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On
Bear Mountain
A
hillbilly girl from Georgia. A rebellious Brooklyn
boy. Choices that break a heart and the redeeming
powers of art and love.
Look for a new print run for On Bear Mountain
in 2009!
Buy Now
- Reviewer’s Choice Nominee, Best Contemporary
Novel, Romantic Times BookClub 2003
- Nominee, The 2002 Townsend Prize for Fiction
- Reviewer’s Choice Nominee, Best Mainstream
Romance, Romantic Times, 1997
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Dirt-poor, sensitive as poets, and proud as kings, the
Powell family has lived on a Georgia mountaintop for
generations. Then, during the 1960’s, young Ursula Powell’s
father convinces the Tiber family, owners everything in
nearby Tiberville, to commission a huge iron sculpture of a
bear for the town. Decades later the strange sculpture –
rejected by the townspeople and left to rust on the Powell
farm – symbolizes a family’s failure and thwarted dreams.
But, unknown to Ursula, it is now worth such a huge fortune
that the artist’s embittered son, Quentin Ricconni, is
coming to reclaim it . . . and to change everything Ursula
believes about the past, the choices that break a heart, and
the redeeming powers of art and love.
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Exciting news here! On Bear Mountain will be
reissued in 2009 by Bell Bridge Books.
On Bear Mountain is my folk art book. I wrote it
around 2000-2001, when I first became seriously interested
in "primitive" or "outsider" art. This deceptively innocent
and simple art form is remarkably profound in its own way.
As an amateur artist, I’ve learned from hands-on experience
that it’s none to easy to come with a surreal looking or
whimsical image that "speaks" the way the best folk art
does. On a related note, I’ve always been enamored of black
bears. They’re smart, majestic, and dignified. So the
combination of folk art and bear lore was impossible to
resist. But only this year did I finally see a black bear at
my own north Georgia home. I walked into my secluded, woodsy
office one morning and there he was—a half-grown young male,
casually munching birdseed on the back deck. He stayed in
the neighborhood for several weeks, sunning on my deck and
often lounging in an abandoned goldfish pond outside the
office window. He soaked in the weedy water with an
expression of sheer bliss, like a person enjoying a bath.
Factoid: On Bear Mountain has been the subject of
several filmmakers’ inquiries, and was recently pitched to
one of the leading cable channels for a TV movie.
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Hello from Deb Smith! I'm honored you've chosen On
Bear Mountain for your group. Here are some
background details and insight about the novel I hope your
members will find interesting.
As an amateur folk artist, the themes of On Bear
Mountain had a particular appeal to me as I was
writing the book. Here in my part of the United States—the
South—folk art has a rich tradition and is also known as
"Outsider Art." Self-taught, whimsical, profound,
deceptively primitive in look, it speaks to people who
consider themselves outside the mainstream, either due to
poverty, race, religion, or by virtue of having an uncommon
vision of the world.
Thus, the folk art embraced by the Powell family in the
South had a lot in common with the abstract modern art loved
by Quentin's father. Both art forms require the viewer
to look at the world from an unusual perspective, and both
art forms have taken a lot of abuse from critics who don't
"get" the idea.
In some ways, the same can be said of "romance novels."
<smile> Like many women who write that genre of fiction, I'm
often dismayed when people assume my books fit some narrow
definition of romantic fiction. Twenty years ago, after
working as a newspaper reporter and medical writer, I broke
into novels by writing small, Harlequin-romance type
paperbacks. I was labeled a "romance writer," and have been
called that, ever since.
But I'd be willing to bet that if I put one of those old
books into a non-romancy cover and handed it to someone who
swears she doesn't read "those kinds of books," she'd be
shocked and impressed by how even those early books of mine
don't fit her idea of a "trashy" formula read.
Many, many fine writers work in the romance genre. It's a
vast, diverse group of books, ranging from the cute and
simple to the serious and complex. I'm proud to be part of
it.
I continue to call my books "romances," because their
core always revolves around a strong love story. I adore
sentimental and even melodramatic love stories—I admit it!
<smile> As a child I cut my teeth on Gone With The Wind, swooned
at Jane Eyre, and greedily devoured stacks of
bodice-ripping historicals.
As a grown-up (well, I guess I'm grown-up, or at least as
mature as I can ever hope to be,) I recognize the deep and
profound bond between two loving people as one of the most
transcendent and civilizing elements of human life on this
planet.
It's not sappy to celebrate it, whether in books labeled
(often derisively) "romance novels," or in general fiction.
The world of literature would be a cold, dark place
without the glorious heroism chronicled when two people fall
in love and declare their faith in each other.
So . . . I hope y'all enjoy the romance in On Bear
Mountain as well as the story of the families, the
setting, and, most of all, the marvelous Iron Bear.
A little trivia here: I got the idea for the Bear from a
real sculpture on display near the University of Georgia,
where I went to college. Decades ago, an artist donated a
larger-than-life, abstract, "Iron Horse" to the
university. It was put on display on campus. Students at
that time had never seen modern art before, and they
repeatedly vandalized the sculpture.
The situation grew so annoying that the university gave
the massive sculpture to the first person willing to haul it
away. It ended up in a farmer's field, standing proudly and
weirdly among the waving grasses and curious cattle.
It has remained there ever since. Over the years,
students began to make whimsical pilgrimages to the Iron
Horse, often toting beer along for an outdoor party in the
farmer's field.
Now the sculpture has become a beloved and
sentimental part of university lore. In recent years, its
reputation as a work of art has been fully restored, so much
so that the university grumbles mildly about its value and
has even made a few half-hearted attempts to make the owner
return it.
No way. Today the Iron Horse remains right where it
belongs. You can read articles about it on-line.
Here's a good one.
Again, I totally honored to have a book selected by your
group. And do let me know if I can be of more assistance.
Reader's Guide Questions:
1. Ursula and Quentin struggle to come to terms with
their respective fathers' intense devotion to unusual art.
How to you feel about "modern art" and other non-traditional
types of painting and sculpture?
2. Have you ever been disgusted or even just bewildered
by a sculpture displayed in a public place?
3. Quentin's father's obsession with artistic
success leads to tragedy. Do you believe in the image of the
tormented starving artist? Do you think artists have to
suffer for their work to be good?
4. The bears featured in the book are Black Bears, who
are not generally dangerous to people. Have you ever had an
encounter with a bear? Do you see them as noble creatures or
just big, scary moochers?
5. If you could be a successful artist, what would your
favorite subject matter be? Why?
6. A major theme of the book is art versus money. Do you
think the two are mutually exclusive? How do you feel about
art that is deliberately offensive (such as religious themes
some see as sacrilegious?) Who should decide what's
acceptable?
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"Characters as intriguing as the
abstract sculpture." -- Atlanta Journal Constititution
"I highly recommend On Bear Mountain .
. . a deeply touching tale." -- Romance Reviews Today
"A delight." -- Hollywood Behind The
Scenes
"Rich, complex." -- The Romance Reader
"Beautifully written . . . A shimmering
web of sorrows and joys." -- Booklist
"Readers of the novels of Anne Rivers
Siddons will welcome into their hearts Deborah Smith." --
Midwest Book Review
"A fine and gentle tale" --
Publishers Weekly
"Charming and heartwarming" --
Library Journal
"Smith's best novel yet." -- Kristin Hannah
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