Amy Hill Hearth

A store in Kona, Hawaii. A bookshop at the Dallas-Ft. Worth Airport. A Sam's Club in Missouri. These are some of the places that friends and family have reported seeing copies of my novel, MISS DREAMSVILLE. These reports always make my day. It reminds me that - wow! - my little book is out in the world, making its way into people's hearts. Thanks to the magic of smart-phones, there's often a photograph, too. My husband is probably the most dedicated chronicler of "sightings," as he calls them, as if they are UFOs. He not only takes photos, he makes a point of noting how many copies a particular store has in stock, how the books are displayed (spine or face out, low shelf or eye level) and if anyone buys one while he's hovering nearby. I find it embarrassing and will not be seen with him when he embarks on this behavior. I have been known to leave a bookstore and go hide in the car until he returns. Still, he's not as bad as my parents. My mom, who is 87 years old, admits that she has moved copies of my books so that they are displayed in a more favorable way. And my dad, now 88, once stood in front of a Manhattan bookstore and pointed out one of my books in the window, saying to passersby, "My daughter wrote that." And, believe it or not, some people actually stopped, talked to him, and went in the store and bought the book.  Read More 

My generation was slammed hard by AIDS. I was in college when people started getting sick with a mysterious disease that had no name. We had no idea what was happening, or why, and it was terrifying. Like a lot of young women, among my best and dearest friends were a couple of gay men. They were part of my social circle. We'd often go to a concert or just hang out and listen to records. They were great companions, loyal friends, and fun to be with. If I had a late class and was scared to walk back to my dorm, I could count on one of the gay guys to escort me home. If I had a cold, they never failed to bring soup or fuss over me in some other way. Rejected by their families, they made their own. After I moved away, I stopped hearing from them, and that is how I found out that each one of them, over the course of about two years, had died of AIDS. They'd been infected before anyone knew there was such a thing as AIDS. They never had a chance. I remember them all on this day - World AIDS Day - and every day.  Read More 

You know that American television is far-reaching when you turn on the TV in the King David Hotel in Jerusalem, as I did a few years ago, and to your amazement, the first show you come across is "I Dream of Jeannie" broadcast from a Jordanian television station. Talk about disorienting! My husband and I were unpacking our suitcases and admiring the view of the Dome of the Rock from our room when I decided to check the news. I was looking for CNN or the BBC but of all things, there was "Jeannie" in her circa-1960s Americanized belly-dancer outfit being chased around a room by Larry Hagman playing a frantic astronaut. Don't get me wrong - I loved the show when I was a kid, and I was sorry to hear the news that Larry Hagman has passed away. While everyone else seems to remember him as J.R. on "Dallas," I prefer his role on "I Dream of Jeannie," although I have to wonder what people around the world must think about Americans as depicted in either show. Read More 

My friend Alison has known me since we were both six years old. She now lives in Cary, North Carolina, but in the 1960s, when we were in grammar school, we lived near each other in a section of Columbia, South Carolina known as Forrest Lake. Alison and I spent much of our time on or around the water - in a rowboat (with my dog, Grinch, as our companion) or knee-deep on the shoreline catching minnows. And, just like the narrator of my novel, MISS DREAMSVILLE, we rescued turtles that crossed the road over a causeway adjacent to my house. Some of them were snapping turtles and if we'd had a lick of sense we would have realized they were dangerous - as were the cars that whizzed right past us. No wonder we kept this little hobby a secret from our mothers. Then, after a teacher read aloud from THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN, I was obsessed with the idea of building a raft. (It sank.) Our lake was really just a large pond, but in our eyes it could have been the Mississippi River in all its glory.  Read More 

Is there an indy bookstore in your area that you love? If so, send me an e on my website, www.amyhillhearth.com, and I will mention it in a future post - or feel free to comment below!

Here are a few I love -

Beauty  Read More