I love history. S’true. Maybe some find it
boring or stuffy, but the images are first rate that historical books evoke in my brainpan. The
American Civil War, or the Great Unpleasantness, War for States Rights or,
aptly named, the War Against the States, always has fascinated me. Since I grew
up in a house with a father who’d fought the Japanese in WWII, had a
grandfather in WW1, and ancestors among the Missouri raiders, perhaps the
allure for these times came naturally.
In 1976, I was eight years old and the country went bonkers
for the bicentennial. Patriotism went hand in hand with all things in my house,
but as I grew up I came to understand the grim reality of not just life, but
war in general.
It wasn't glamorous, nor had anyone in my family tried to
polish it up as such. “War isn't Hell,” my dad said, cussing Sherman’s quote on
the matter. “There aren't any innocent bystanders in Hell.”
We are a warlike folk, meaning humanity, not just Americans.
We fight over territory, religion, and if the tales are true, hot gals named
Helen. I think the tales of war enthrall us on a gut level, probably something
in our DNA that is animalistic still or tainted by sin, whatever your belief
system. The 300 movie rocked, even if it was a living cartoon, really.
Sometimes, the entertainment value doesn't have to be particularly smart if
laid out properly.
War brings out the best in people, I hear tell, causing them
to reach to the heights of bravery, courage and endurance. However, it also evokes
the worst in humanity, genocide and cowardice on a scale that storytellers
still try to get a grip on. Men behaving badly? Sometimes really badly. These
tales of flawed folks, men who aren’t Joe Whitebread, but manage to surprise
themselves in the heat of battle are great stories.
That brings me to my novel HELL BILLY from Bad Moon Books.
It takes place in 1868, just three years from the end of hostilities at a time
where the Union army still occupied southern states. In Memphis, family members
of the occupying Commandant are being killed in a rather unusual manner
original to a soldier who rode with General Nathan Bedford Forrest. When
Forrest, a local businessman then, is brought in, he tells the Commandant that
William Hells died in the war…but Billy shows up again, and kills. He’s caught
and hanged. And returns the next day.
I didn't set out to write a historical murder mystery-horror
story, but HELL BILLY turned into just that. It’s as authentic as I could make
it after years of research, reading up on all facets of these times, and
visiting many of the locations. Someone flinched that I used Forrest as a main
character in the book, seeing as he had a notorious history (to say the least).
He’s a mesmerizing study and it’s just a fiction tale folks. I don’t glorify
anyone, nor do I paint the war or the horrors of reconstruction in shiny dress.
However, the culture, times and people of the day, present a great canvas to
paint on, and often the ink is red.
HELL BILLY deals with many such grim issues. I was honored
to have a writer I admire, Ronald Kelly, write the intro for the work. Please
give this novel a peek and let me know what you think. It’s a wild ride, full
of action, dark humor, and more wild folks than a Coen Brothers film. History
is never boring to me. It’s alive, breathing and at times, it bleeds. A lot.
Link to purchase HELL BILLY by Steven L. Shrewsbury:
Link to Steven L. Shrewsbury's blog:
