"Ellie And Her Elephant"

Wayne Edmiston, now living on the Central Coast, has deep Chico roots. He graduated from Chico State College in 1971. An endowment fund to support developing the Meriam Library Special Collections and University Archives was created in the 70s by his great-aunt Ellen Deering. Ellsworth Deering, his great-uncle, was inducted into Chico State's Sports Hall of Fame in the 80s.

An ordained New Thought minister with Centers for Spiritual Living, the long-time teacher has published a whimsical short story for children about the creation of music, the meaning of love, and the world's curious interconnections.

"Ellie And Her Elephant" ($7.99 in paperback from Wedmiston Publishing; also for Amazon Kindle) emphasizes interactivity, pausing frequently to ask readers a question.

The story begins with the Easley family in small-town Halcyon, California, as news comes that the small zoo's elephant is about to give birth. Nine-year-old Ellie Easley's submitted name is drawn in the subsequent name-the-baby contest. The name had to begin with "El," and wouldn't you know it—Ellie won for "Ellie."

Ellie's father wows local children with piano playing, telling them a tale of music's origin. Uncounted years ago, the animals in the African forest started making noises. That woke a big lion. 

"'I was purring and happy, now you've made me so angry I could cuss you out. I'd rather be purring than cussing because of the noise you're making!' This roaring became known throughout the jungle as a 're-purr-cussion' (repercussion)." 

An elephant named Ellie learns to trumpet. When Ellie dies, she becomes "part of the symphony of life in another time and place." Is her earthly music gone? No; the ivory humans find much later comes to reside in the very piano Ellie's father is playing. Ellie moves her wheelchair to the keyboard and it is "like an electric current—warm and comforting to the touch."

As the years pass, Ellie becomes a skilled musician and, with help from her physical therapist, prepares an extraordinary surprise for her father when she plays at the big concert. And Ellie the elephant becomes a mother.

"What did Ellie the elephant give to the world?" Edmiston asks; "what do we have that we can give?"

"Westbound"

Chico State grad K. Patrick Conner was a journalistic voice in Chico before joining the San Francisco Chronicle in 1987 where he worked for more than two decades. He is also a novelist; his latest is a stunning evocation of the pioneering spirit that drew many to California, which can even transform a dull old man living in the twenty-first century.

It's 2005, and Elliott Madison, 78, long retired as a newspaper editor, is completing a historical account of how his great-grandparents met and married in the California goldfields in the 1850s. 

William Madison's journal begins with his horrendous voyage from South Carolina around Cape Horn; he settles in the Anderson Valley near Boonville.

Amelia Snyder, 18, his great-grandmother, journeys overland from Iowa with her brother and father (her mother died of cholera in 1849). Her letters to cousin Emily are heartbreaking as they recount the tragic trek (including the loss of her father) and its aftermath.

Elliott himself is a quotidian contrast. Long since divorced, his granddaughter Alissa, 23, lives with him in the Bay Area and practices drums for "a heavy metal power trio" named The Sores. She's estranged from her mother, Elliott's daughter, and Elliott spends much of his time researching in the library. Until one day a letter he receives will change his life forever.

"Westbound" ($39.95 in hardcover from NaCl Press; also for Amazon Kindle) seamlessly mingles Elliott's present life with the dramatic accounts of his great-grandparents in a way that makes them present as well. 

Amelia writes her cousin: "Father told us we would reach the Platte River today, but we were not prepared for what we saw. It is a river of shallow channels and sandbars, the color of gold as it spreads across the vast plain…. For the first time, I began to understand that even with Father's description of the trail that lies ahead, it is a land that cannot be imagined before it is seen."

Neither can Elliott's own future. That mysterious letter brings a woman named Phoebe into his life, and the house William built for Amelia, and the telling is so poignant I neglected to take notes on the book and just read, entranced.

"The Trial Of Juan De La Cruz"

Back when the Beatles made their first cultural splash on the international stage, a linguistic anthropologist named John Stirling journeys to "the wild mountains of southern Oaxaca" (WAH HA kah) in Mexico. In the tiny village of Santa Carmen, where perhaps eighty people live, he is to meet nonagenarian Juan de la Cruz, the last person on earth who can speak Xocatec.

Stirling wants to know how Xocatec is structured, but it's soon clear more is required for someone to "get" a language. And when Juan is accused of murder by a mentally ill woman in the village, and Mexican authorities step in, John and his friends learn firsthand the sometimes deadly effects of a dominant culture.

"The Trial Of Juan De La Cruz" ($2.99 in Amazon Kindle edition, self-published) by Chicoan Mike Findlay, retired Butte College and Chico State anthropology instructor, is one of three novels "Through An Anthropologist's Looking Glass," including "The Tribe In The Red Brick House" and "The Trail To Tlaxiaco" (Tlah HEE ah Ko).

Most of the first half of "Trial" delves deeply into the Stirling's work as a linguistic anthropologist (there's a helpful glossary), but it threatens to overwhelm him as he spends more and more time with his tape recorder. "John often talked well into the night—endless streams of discourse with a mechanical device. He began to shut the world around him out, keeping his thoughts to himself in his little cottage up in" Santa Carmen.

John is shaken out of the "cult of grammar" as Juan tells the story of hunting with his brother many years before, coming to a place "empty and dead and brown like coffee. We knew we had entered the area of the ancient battles—the wars." In frustration, Juan kills a great horned owl, a sacred animal, and the fruits of his desecration are with him still. 

Juan's trial shows the stark contrast between justice in Santa Carmen and the Oaxacan "guilty if we say you're guilty" system. 

This somber tale of how cultures mix (or don't) raises a question: Which way will the owl turn in our own day--toward healthy community, or widening chaos?

"Alvin Coffey: The True Story Of An African American Forty-Niner"

Retired librarian Nancy Leek of Chico has long been drawn to pioneer history. Her new book, illustrated by Steve Ferchaud, is about a man who "did not come to California of his own free will. That decision was made for him by the man who claimed to own him. But he came with hope. Hope for freedom. Hope for a better life for himself and his family."

"Alvin Coffey: The True Story Of An African American Forty-Niner" ($16.95 in paperback from Goldfields Books, goldfieldsbooks.com) is available locally at Made in Chico, ABC Books, Bidwell Supply Company, the Chico History Museum, and the Bidwell Mansion gift shop. 

Coffey was born into slavery in Kentucky 200 years ago. "In 1846, when he was 24 years old, Alvin was sold to Dr. William Bassett for $600." Married to Mahala, with a growing family, Alvin's life was not his own. "At that time," Leek writes, "the law said he did not even own himself."

With help from "Alvin and Mahala Coffey's great-great-granddaughter, Jeannette Molson," Leek sets out the story of an enslaved man who finds not riches but something far more precious.

"When Dr. Bassett heard about gold in California, he was eager to go. He took Alvin along to do the hard work for him." The wagon train arrived in California in October, 1849. "I worked the claims," Alvin said in interviews years later. "After dark and on Sunday I used to do odd jobs for other people and work at my shoemaker's trade."

That side money was enough to buy his freedom, but instead Bassett took it all. Back in Missouri, Bassett sold Alvin for $1000 "to Mary Tindall, the owner of Mahala." Alvin got permission to return to Shasta County and, as he said later, "toiled away for years" and succeeded in buying their freedom.

Returning to Missouri, he took his family to California. "We stood at last under God's clear sky," he said, "free at last, thank Him."

The story, Leek writes on her website, "needs to be better known." She is keeping alive the memory of slavery's terrible legacy--and the life of a courageous man.