A Conversation with Author of Drowned Town, Jayne Moore Waldrop

Jayne Moore Waldrop, photo taken at Lake Barkley

DM: How did you research this subject? Do you have any personal history with drowned towns?

JMW: I grew up in Paducah, which is about twenty miles from Kentucky Lake, Lake Barkley, and Land Between the Lakes so I know the area well but didn’t have any personal or familial connections to the drowned towns or the land formerly known as Between the Rivers. I’ve always appreciated having the lakes and the LBL recreation area right in my backyard, so to speak, but it wasn’t until adulthood that I began to consider the enormous environmental changes that happened in western Kentucky with the damming of the Tennessee and Cumberland rivers in the mid-twentieth century. Kentucky Dam was built long before I was born as part of the New Deal projects for rural electrification and flood control. Lake Barkley and LBL were created when I was a very young child. They were just part of the landscape for people like me.

Flooded Eddyville, Corps of Engineers Archive Photo

But my perspective changed in 2003 when my husband and I bought at auction one of the remaining original homes in Old Kuttawa, a beautiful old Victorian where we spent time in the summer and on holidays. We owned the house for twelve years, and that period corresponded with the time I worked on my MFA in Creative Writing at nearby Murray State University as well as when I started these stories. As I researched the history of the house, I dug deeper into the history of the town as it once existed before Lake Barkley. Kuttawa had been a small but bustling river town, and that was hard for me to envision. Fortunately, there are several photographic archives from multiple eras that exist through our library system, as well as the Lyon County Museum at Rose Hill in Eddyville. At the museum, I found a picture of our house in its heyday. It was surrounded by lush gardens. There were young women with Gibson Girl hairstyles in the upstairs windows. I was smitten by the house and the history, but that came with a recognition of what was lost when the lakes were built and Between the Rivers was purchased by the government to create the recreation area. In speaking with individuals displaced by the projects, I heard a familiar and shared yearning for home, all these years later. There’s a melancholy despite the natural beauty of the region.

DM: Some of my favorite writers have written linked narratives (Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri, Elizabeth Strout’s Olive Kitteridge and Olive Again, or Alice Munro’s Runaway). Do you have any advice for writers who are interested in writing linked narrative collections? AND, what made you settle on linked narratives as opposed to a traditional novel?

JMW: As far as advice to other writers, read as many linked story collections or novels-in-stories as possible to see how other authors have used the form. In addition to the ones you mention – Olive Kitteridge is my all-time favorite – I recommend Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried, Jennifer Egan’s A Visit from the Goon Squad, and Munro’s The Beggar Maid. That said, writers should know that publishers generally favor novels over story collections, so I think they’re a little harder to sell. In fact, I’ve noticed that some books that read like linked stories are labeled as novels or perhaps not labeled at all to be more marketable. Maybe the description “novel-in-stories” solves the issue. As a reader, books like Disappearing Earth by Julia Phillips and News of Our Loved Ones by Abigail DeWitt seemed like interconnected stories but are called novels. So, at submission time, maybe an author shouldn’t set a fixed label of where the manuscript fits on the fiction spectrum.

Old Kuttawa, Kentucky–Corp of Engineers Archive Photo

I love a linked narrative because it allows for broad storytelling from multiple points of view, which is why I chose the form to tell these stories. It allowed the narrative to flow back and forth in time and setting, which I thought was important to connect the history to a modern-day story. It also provided space for an ensemble of characters from around the lakes and Between the Rivers. Each told a distinct perspective.

DM: I recently read that current Land Between the Lakes residents are protesting the government’s management of the property, i.e., clearcutting, neglect. What are your thoughts about this?

JMW: LBL should be funded and managed in ways consistent with the promises made to the former residents, that the area will not be commercially developed and that roads be maintained to allow the descendants of the former residents to reach family cemeteries and other significant landmarks. Personally, I wish LBL could be part of the National Park Service to better emphasize the recreational, historical, cultural, and natural elements of the area, instead of part of the U.S. Forest Service.

DM: I identified with Margaret Starks character more, so maybe that’s why I think this is her story. It’s actually both Margaret and Cam’s story as well as the townspeople’s story. What are your readers saying about who the main character is?

Flooded Eddyville before the town was torn down- photo by Gar Pursley

JMW: I hope readers see that Margaret and Cam’s friendship is the thread that runs throughout the story. They’re quite different–different backgrounds with personalities that tend to balance each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Sort of a yin and yang friendship that sustains them through their lives. They become chosen sisters. In many ways I also identify with Margaret because she’s the outsider who comes to know the lakes and LBL without any of the associated personal loss or grief for what existed before. As she learns more about the past, she comes to understand the depth of their loss.

Low lake levels reveal stairs–photo by Jayne Moore Waldrop

DM: At any point did you think you were finished with Drowned Town and then decide to add a story? Or, the opposite, did you remove a story from the collection?

JMW: “Signs” was one of the last stories I wrote. The manuscript needed more of Rose’s story, which culminates with “Mint Springs,” one of the first ones I wrote. There were a couple of stories that were cut from the final version that still lurk somewhere on my computer.

DM: If you could decide on the essential takeaway from Drowned Town for your readers, what would that be?

Bricks from Old Kuttawa–photo by Jayne Moore Waldrop

JMW: I think readers will have a better understanding of Western Kentucky and its history, but I hope the essential takeaway from the book is a recognition of the profound grief that comes from loss of home and place, whether it’s of our own making or outside our control. The yearning for a home is a shared universal experience.

DM: Writing about real towns can be risky because they’re full of opinions. Has the feedback been positive? What’s the funniest remark someone has made about Drowned Town that you would like to share?

JMW: Yes, writing about real places can be risky. To give myself a little more freedom from the actual history, I created the fictional town of Sycamore. The drowned towns of Eddyville and Kuttawa are real, as are the “new” relocated towns that used the same names. I wanted to signal early on that, while based on historic events, this book is fiction. Eddyville and Kuttawa have an old rivalry, one that’s in some ways bitter. I decided to avoid that issue completely by creating a fictional new town.

The funniest remark about the book I’ve heard was from a woman who said she didn’t like some of the words in it. She didn’t elaborate.

DM: Are there plans to redevelop the Land between the Lakes?

JMW: Not to my knowledge at this time, but there’s always that fear. There was a movement with support from elected officials to commercially develop the area in the 1990s but due to public outcry, organized by the former residents and their descendants, the plans went nowhere. There has since been federal law put in place known as the Land Between the Lakes Protection Act, which transferred management of the area from TVA to the U.S. Forest Service. The unfortunate part is that there has been reduced funding for educational and cultural programming, which is important in keeping the history alive.

DM: What’s next? Are you working on another collection or novel?

JMW: I am working on a continuation of the story with these characters as they hit deep middle age. My next three books, though, are children’s picture books to be published by Shadelandhouse Modern Press. The first one will be released later this year. It’s a biography of the artist Ellis Wilson, who was born in western Kentucky and became one of the first African American students accepted at the Art Institute of Chicago. He was an acclaimed artist of the Harlem Renaissance and a two-time recipient of the Guggenheim Award. Nashville artist Michael McBride is currently working on the illustrations, and I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to see the story come to life in Michael’s watercolors. The second book in the series is about Kentucky outsider artist Helen LaFrance, and the third is about a child noticing the similar life patterns of humans and birds on a lake.

DM: Thanks for the opportunity to learn more about Drowned Town. I wish you all the best with your new novel!

Jacket Design-Hayward Wilkirson


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Jayne Moore Waldrop is a Kentucky writer and attorney. She is the author of Retracing My Steps, a finalist in the New Women’s Voices Chapbook Series, and Pandemic Lent: A Season in Poems, both published by Finishing Line Press. Her linked story collection, Drowned Town, was published in 2021 by University Press of Kentucky through its Fireside Industries imprint, a partnership with Hindman Settlement School. Waldrop earned undergraduate and law degrees from the University of Kentucky, and her MFA in Creative Writing (fiction) in 2014 from Murray State University’s low residency program. She is a former book columnist for the Louisville Courier-Journal and literary arts liaison at the Carnegie Center for Literacy and Learning. She was a writer-in-residence at Rivendell Writers Colony and has attended the Appalachian Writer’s Workshop at Hindman Settlement School, Bread Loaf Environmental Writers Workshop, and the Kentucky Women Writers Conference. Waldrop was appointed by the governor to serve two terms on the Kentucky Arts Council and she’s an Art Meets Activism grant recipient from the Kentucky Foundation for Women.

Photo by Tim Webb

To learn more about Jayne Moore Waldrop and for author events, visit her author website: JAYNE MOORE WALDROP | AUTHOR

Interested in discovering the history of the drowned towns of Western Kentucky, read Jayne Moore Waldrop’s article in Kentucky Monthly: “Lost Places of the Western Waterland.”

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“Drowned Town” by Jayne Moore Waldrop

Jacket Design by Hayward Wilkirson

Through the government’s power of eminent domain, entire towns were taken. People lost homes and farms that had been in their families for generations. Old-growth forests were leveled. The sight of a mountain-sized stack of downed trees had caused Elmer to grieve for days, but that was the way of progress, even if it hurt to look. When the dam was finished, Lake Barkley would fill and flood the land, forever altering the place. There would be no going back.

Jayne Waldrop Moore

As a teenager I moved near Allatoona Lake in Georgia, a lake that was one of many lakes that destroyed towns in North Georgia, a town perhaps like the one Jayne Moore Waldrop wrote about in Drowned Town. It wasn’t until much later in life I understood the costs living near a beautiful lake had on those who came before me. Back then, my knowledge of underwater towns was largely based on James Dickey’s Deliverance—the movie—not the novel.

If you’re unfamiliar with the New Deal programs that swept the country during the Depression and the impact those programs had on Americans, Drowned Town is an excellent foray into a lost history. Comprised of interlinked short stories from varying perspectives— characters who lost family farms, homes, businesses, as well as characters who gained employment and grew up enjoying the beauty of Land Between the Lakes—Drowned Town simultaneously celebrates the natural beauty of lower Western Kentucky while honoring and grieving all drowned towns.

In the opening story, “Dry Ground.” Waldrop reimagines the now submerged town of Eddyville, Kentucky from Camilla Wetherford’s point-of-view. Cam, who was a child when her town was flooded, returns home to get fitted for her mother’s wedding dress. Her return stirs up memories of her family’s relocation to the new town of Sycamore when a young Cam discovers the plans for her family’s new home: “She analyzed the cover photo, which showed a family of four, dressed up like they had been to church or a funeral, except they looked too happy to have come from the graveyard…The full-color family walked toward a fine example of a ranch-style home…Cam knew her own family didn’t look like those people or dress like them, even on Easter Sunday. Their clothes weren’t as fancy and their car was old, but they were getting a new house.” Even a young child like Cam can see through American commercialism. The image of this picture-perfect family trading in generations of memories to be on higher ground, struck me as rather Warholian–a celebration of 1960’s consumerism culture. The trade-off for construction jobs and rural hydroelectric power was loss of land and tradition. Southerners, even today, are portrayed as backwards, and so it’s easy to imagine Washington selling what was considered to be a better way of life and believing Eddyville should be grateful.

Later, Cam and her friend, Neville Burgess, explore the evacuated old town though ironically, they could get in trouble for trespassing on land that was once theirs. At the vacated home of Miss LaClede’s, Cam’s now deceased piano teacher, Cam discovers a photograph of Miss LaClede’s brother in his casket. Miss LaClede was the last of her family; she didn’t want to leave her home and died before anyone had the chance to remove her. Cam keeps the photo, a macabre souvenir: “The dead boy was Cam’s only connection to her [Miss LaClede], the surviving proof that Miss LaClede and her people ever existed.” The contrast between these two images, the perfect American family and last link to the LaClede family, sets the tone for themes Waldrop later delves into in Drowned Town: loss, death, grief, new beginnings, family, memories, and preservation.

Drowned Town is about what the title suggests, but it’s also about people and their lives in this complicated setting. Subplots and character development occur within the body of the composite novel, sometimes called a short story cycle, but the overall feeling is that the subplots and character growth is integral to the central themes and ideas Waldrop explores here as a whole. Waldrop should be commended on her craft. Her stories are straightforward and accessible as standalone stories, but together create a portrait of a lost community.

And though these stories may be read on their own, if read chronologically there are two main characters, Margaret Starks and the aforementioned Camilla Wetherford, with Margaret standing out as the primary protagonist. The structure is cleverly constructed, and I cannot imagine that a traditional novel format would have worked as well as the one Waldrop chose. In addition, Waldrop needed to address two sides of the coin–those in favor of the dam and lake projects, and those opposed to the projects. This format allows Waldrop to move back and forth between the characters childhood memories to the present time as adults while being able to make larger narrative leaps through time. The structure allows the author to explore other characters perhaps not as central to the main plot but who affect the tone, subplots, and provide another look into setting and theme. An example of this is Waldrop’s story “Drift” where secondary characters are the main characters. Or, in “Thanksgiving,” the reader can dip into Neville’s headspace. It’s very enjoyable to get the male perspective here as Neville is dating Margaret at this point in the narrative. Neville is also a hometown boy, a history professor, and lectures about the impact the projects had on the town. Some readers may find this jarring or want to cling onto one character and then find themselves reading about a secondary character, but for the story to be told properly, this structure feels right. The remaining ambiguity of whether the projects were warranted or if people were robbed is always going to exist, and so being able to look inward from all sides is as good as it gets.

As for the main character, Margaret Starks, the only child of Harvard-trained physicians, she grew up amongst the bluebloods of moneyed Louisville with a family mantra of “nothing but the best.” Although she comes from a privileged background, in college she becomes best friends with Cam. Cam is down-to-earth and every bit a lake person in faded jeans and Western Kentucky accent. Margaret discovers sister in Cam and a genuine family in Rose and Lowell Wetherford, who treat her like a daughter. Of course, the Starks don’t approve of Cam. They also don’t approve of Margaret’s future husband, Robert McKinley, who grew up poor in Appalachia. After tragedy hits and Margaret loses Robert, the one person other than the Wetherfords who kept her grounded, she slips into grief and loneliness. She also falls back into her snobbish ways. Margaret buries her authentic self in a successful law practice she’s liking less and less and in a false idea of fulfillment—designer labels, personal trainers, and spa days; all are hollow substitutes for companionship and family. Initially, Margaret comes across as uptight and pretentious, but she’s a very relatable female character who feels she must maintain a level of perfection that’s exhausting.

Land Between the Lakes, photo by Jayne Moore Waldrop

Margaret’s character is ideal for addressing the division. As an attorney Margaret should be able to objectively view different opinions. It’s not always so easy. In “Weekend Visitor,” Margaret is torn between her loyalty to the Wetherfords and her own fond memories of Land Between the Lakes: “For years Margaret would listen to their stories, but she never understood the depth of their bitterness. She viewed the area with the eyes of a weekend visitor who arrived long after the dams were built, the towns were flooded, and the last resident moved out to make way for LBL…as a tourist she didn’t see beyond the scenery.” Also, Margaret wasn’t around for the initial demolition and enjoyed LBL as a young woman where she created her own positive memories. She’s caught in the middle, but as her character grows, she doesn’t stay there long.

Waldrop constantly flips the coin so that around the time the reader fully sides with the disgruntled landowners, another story offers an opposing idea. “For What it’s Worth” is written from the perspective of a land appraiser, Elmer Newby, who stays gainfully employed facilitating property transfers during this time. He’s the go-between between the townspeople and TVA. At first, he views the projects as progress; the projects brought jobs and electricity as well as a recreational area that would stimulate the economy. Later, Elmer admits he didn’t understand the scope of the projects and how destructive they ended up being: “Elmer’s view of the property shifted, and he began to see the land through its owner’s eyes, not as a collection of objective facts and figures…The generational labor that had built the place made his numbers feel thin, his own new house cheap by comparison.” The physical and environmental destruction these projects had on the land as well as emotional impact the demolition and relocation had on the people is unfathomable.

Protestors of Tennessee Valley Authority, Corp of Engineers Archive

Another compelling perspective can be found in the story “View from Within.” Lester Elliot is serving life in the Kentucky State Penitentiary and from his cell he observes the Wetherford’s farm: “This was the time of day that he loved, and his favorite view in a foreign place that had become his world. For twenty years Lester had watched the house as the setting sun cast its warm light over the landscape. It was a fine old home, surrounded by pastures, fields of crops, and acres of forest beyond.” Later, Lester has a front seat ticket to the demolition of the farm, a place that offered him a beacon of hope; it was close as he’d ever get to a real home: “The water inched closer to the house. Its back wing and its double porches were gone, and he spotted a pile of rubble dumped on what had been its gravel drive. Giant trees were uprooted and on the ground. The barns were down, too. The house, his oasis, was surrounded by bulldozers and tractors.” Today, the news blasts images of towns destroyed by war or by natural disasters caused by climate change and viewers watch from a distance, much like Lester. The farm became a constant for Lester, the one good thing in his daily life. Waldrop subtly crafts symbols into her narrative, like the limestone prison standing above the town. The prison represents the government or the powers that stand safe from a distance and make decisions with far reaching consequences, regardless of the harm those decisions have. Lester, who was convicted of a crime he didn’t commit, is stuck in a system, a literal fortress, without a voice. He is similar to those early protesters of the dam and lake projects, whose voices were ignored as well.

St. Stephens Chapel, photo by Jayne Moore Waldrop

It’s interesting what survives the flooding. In addition to the castle-like penitentiary, the small chapel of St. Stephen’s survives, but barely. It’s up to the former residents to restore the chapel and the town comes out in droves to preserve their past. The chapel acts as another wonderful working symbol for Waldrop. Cam and Owen get married in this chapel and the circle of life turns again. The chapel is a holdout from the past, something former LBL residents work hard to preserve; it represents the merging of the past with the present and heals old wounds. It’s the perfect place to gather to fight the latest project—the redevelopment of land into condominiums and resorts. At this point, Margaret is fully connected to LBL, not just because she’s now a resident and has remodeled one of the surviving Victorians, but because she has found a true home, what she’s been seeking all along. The town is her family; she won’t go down without a fight.

It’s not so easy to erase a town and even today when the water level is low, the foundations emerge in old Eddyville. Some memories can be erased, though. Waldrop’s story, “Signs,” is a brave, heart wrenching piece about Rose Wetherford who is starting to feel the effects of Alzheimer’s. This story is the perfect vehicle to express the fear one must experience when he/she comes to realize something isn’t right and Waldrop uses Alzheimer’s as metaphor for the town of Eddyville. In “Mint Springs,” Cam drives her mother out to where her mother’s farm would have been had it not been destroyed. Rose is in a constant state of confusion and this setting brings her peace. There’s a final message of hope in the hymn Rose sings of her lost town: “O they tell me of a home where my friends have gone, they tell me of that land far away.”  Rose’s memories are blurred, out of order, misrepresented, misunderstood, and are becoming harder and harder to hold onto; she’s much like the lost town of Eddyville. It’s melancholy, yet Alzheimer’s proves a fitting analogy for what happened to Eddyville.

Drowned Town was long overdue, and hopefully the people from these lost towns and lakeside communities, whether in Kentucky or somewhere else, are proud of Waldrop’s fictional depiction of their landscape. Waldrop wrote about a very specific topic with a very specific setting which can be risky. One can imagine the people who lived in this area during the time of these projects, now reading Waldrop’s stories, have something else to add. That’s part of the point of this collection, however, to bring those voices to the forefront and stimulate new conversations around preservation and history. Drowned Town is written with activism in mind, and Waldrop has provided an immeasurable amount of dialogue for future conversations about submerged towns and this area of Kentucky. And though Waldrop’s book is a wonderful tribute to underwater towns, this book pays homage to anyone who has lost their sense of home and it looking to recover it.


Photo by Tim Webb

MORE ABOUT AUTHOR: Jayne Moore Waldrop is a Kentucky writer and attorney. She is the author of Retracing My Steps, a finalist in the New Women’s Voices Chapbook Series, and Pandemic Lent: A Season in Poems, both published by Finishing Line Press. Her linked story collection, Drowned Town, was published in 2021 by University Press of Kentucky through its Fireside Industries imprint, a partnership with Hindman Settlement School. Waldrop earned undergraduate and law degrees from the University of Kentucky, and her MFA in Creative Writing (fiction) in 2014 from Murray State University’s low residency program. She is a former book columnist for the Louisville Courier-Journal and literary arts liaison at the Carnegie Center for Literacy and Learning. She was a writer-in-residence at Rivendell Writers Colony and has attended the Appalachian Writer’s Workshop at Hindman Settlement School, Bread Loaf Environmental Writers Workshop, and the Kentucky Women Writers Conference. Waldrop was appointed by the governor to serve two terms on the Kentucky Arts Council and she’s an Art Meets Activism grant recipient from the Kentucky Foundation for Women.

To learn more about the author, Jayne Moore Waldrop, and for author events, visit her author website: JAYNE MOORE WALDROP | AUTHOR


Revival, Lost Southern Voices Presents: William Gay, Southern Author, Southern Painter by Dawn Major on You Tube

William Gay at his cabin in Hohenwald, TN with painting that became the Wittgenstein’s Lolita and The Iceman Cover

Revival: Lost Southern Voices, is a festival for readers that celebrates historically excluded, erased, or marginalized Southern voices. During this annual conference, invited presenters discuss Southern authors or artists whose works are out-of-print or otherwise do not receive the attention they deserve. The festival invites the public, scholars, students, writers, and inquisitive readers to join the conversation as we continue to discover and revive these Lost Southern Voices.


Jim Clark: Don West, poet and social activist
Caroline Herring: Hedy West, musician
Dawn Major: William Gay, author and painter

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