Walking in His Shoes Gurney Norman Jim Wayne Daughter Ruth Wife Mary Ellen Granddaughter Marietta When I first heard the news in August, 1996, that Jim Wayne had died, I was so stunned, saddened, and immobilized for days I couldn't think ofa thing to say about it to anybody. How was it possible to express the feelings aroused by the passing ofthis wonderful friend and writer? Gradually over the past year, many individuals who knew Jim Wayne and his work have managed to share their thoughts and feelings in print. There have been many public eulogies, some large and formal, others quite small and spontaneous. Throughout this whole past year, all over the Southern mountain region where Jim's work was best known, the literary community , which he did so much to nourish over the years, has been finding the voice to express its sense ofloss, its sense ofpride in his achievement, and its gratitude that he was with us for as long as he was. In the week following Jim's funeral several people I spoke with used the same image to suggest the impact ofhis death, that ofa giant tree that has fallen in the forest, leaving the huge space ofitselfin the woods around. It had always been known that it was a large tree, but it was only after it had fallen that its full dimension could be realized by the space it left. It's the kind ofimage Jim Wayne himselfwould make a poem of. In the year before he died I only saw Jim Wayne one time, at the Kentucky Book Fair in Frankfort. It was a busy, crowded day and I didn't get to visit with him much, but it didn't matter. No matter how much time passed between visits or telephone conversations, Jim and his friends easily picked up where they left offthe last time they had communicated. His Gurney Norman lives in Lexington, Kentucky, teachesat the university, and writesfiction. 47 friends and many of his readers always knew that sooner or later they'd catch up with him at one ofthe many periodic gatherings ofliterary folks all across the mountains. For a day, evening, or even for a few minutes, there he would be, present with you, interested in you, that sweet engaging light shining from him that we all needed to bask in from time to time. Jim Wayne left his communitywith many priceless gifts. In addition to the personal memories so many are blessed to own, the community is left with the writing itself. Undoubtedly, Jim Wayne Miller was a great writer. He was so prolific, so eloquent, his written words poured forth like a Blue Ridge mountain stream in springtime, a surging force filled with music, stories, and voices. As time goes by, scholars will give us their written appreciation of Jim and assessments of his work. There will certainly be books about him, his work, and his influence. One particular way that I personally want to appreciate Jim Wayne is to encourage a fresh round of scholarly attention to the complex phenomenon ofthe Appalachian literary movement in the late twentieth century that Jim did so much to create. In the last third ofthe twentieth century, in the Southern Appalachian mountains ofNorthAmerica, a generation of writers and other kinds ofartists, most ofthem born and raised and educated in the mountain region, has created poems, stories, novels, plays, and scholarly essays. They have also produced photographs, films, and television shows, along with paintings and sculpture-not to mention experimental work in unique forms, in astounding quantity and quality. Counting the several magazines and journals in which much ofthis work has appeared,we are talking aboutupwards ofa thousandvolumes ofprinted materials and cultural productions in a variety offorms. Yet, to this day, this American expression has never been described and assessed in any comprehensive way. To the scholars, youngscholars especially, perhaps still in graduate school, who might be interested in taking up this subject, I offer the thought that the whole rise and spread of contemporary Appalachian literature is embodied in Jim Wayne's life and career. The primary years of Jim Wayne Miller's writing career are the...