Sundress Reads: Review of Seven Islands of the Ocmulgee: River Stories

Gordon Johnston’ s Seven Islands of the Ocmulgee: River Stories (Mercer University Press, 2023) is as dark and deep as the river for which it is named. Set near middle Georgia’s Ocmulgee River, these seven short stories have differences that intrigue and similarities that connect. Tackling dark subjects such as murder, alcoholism, and molestation, Seven Islands of the Ocmulgee dives headfirst into the Southern Gothic genre. The river takes on a variety of forms, including an obstacle in the quest to retrieve a lost shopping cart, a place of reflection, and of course, a vehicle for baptism. The river simultaneously wields an upfront power and a background impression that never fades.

Johnston opens with “The Only Place to Start From,” the first island. Peavey is a manager at Publix who is tasked to retrieve a shopping cart stolen and seen in the river. He ventures to the river to try to get it, and in the process, meets a mysterious teenage boy, John Mark, who has used the cart to catch fish and used the teeth to “make [his] marks” (Johnston 9). The boy also insists Peavey is not “the helper” he is looking for. Despite himself, Peavey “couldn’t stand it. He wanted to be the helper” (Johnston 12). In a story with as many twists and turns as the river itself, Peavey learns more about the boy and they develop a kinship as a result of their shared loneliness. At the end of the story, Peavey sees a man he does not know with the cart, but he does not let it bother him. In this small way, Peavey becomes new. 

When Rea, protagonist of “Seven Islands,” meets a small, seemingly mute boy alone on a rock in the river while kayaking, it feels as though the river is offering her a gift. The story hints at her wanting to do something positive with her unhappy life, and she takes the opportunity when she meets the boy, whom she dubs “Buddy” when he refuses to tell her his name. When trying to get Buddy to safety, Rea tells him about the wildlife and history of the river the two journey down; Johnston expertly weaves the details of Rea’s past in here. Rea wants something different for this boy, but in the end, he leaves after catching her speaking to a police officer. Before she meets Buddy, Rea reflects on an otter she once saw at the river for a half second, before it disappeared, and concludes: “That was the river: giving with one hand as it took away with the other” (Johnston 64). The river presents an opportunity, but it slips away. In a strange irony, the story is a complex baptism, forcing Rea and the readers to sit with grief instead of triumph. 

In stories like “Skin Trade,” the direct might of the river takes a different shape. Instead of facing any roaring rapids or wild animals, the protagonist holds the river in the recesses of her mind. Merlinda is from Macon, GA, but leaves in the night to escape her stepfather and stepbrother’s sexual assault at seventeen. She then moves to Chicago and becomes an escort. All the while, the Ocmulgee only appears in Merlinda’s childhood memories. Balancing a dark past with a hope for the future, Johnston carefully threads details about Merlinda’s past and present to craft a narrative as multifaceted as the river on which it is set.

“Going to Water on Wise Creek” is a fitting conclusion to the collection. In this story, a nameless protagonist makes a sort of pilgrimage to the Ocmulgee. The river intimidates the man: “The best and worst moment in a wild place is the recognition of what one has to lose” (Johnston 169). His fear is so great that he considers going back; nonetheless, he sees this journey through. Perhaps by leaving the man without a name, Johnston implies our identities become so small next to the might of the river that our names lose meaning. Given the man’s apparent love, respect, and fear of the river, the protagonist could be Johnston himself.

Seven Islands of the Ocmulgee: River Stories is a collection of stories whose connections are as dynamic as their differences. Tobit works at the Publix Peavey manages. Odis is Rea’s father as well as Merlinda’s cousin. Stories of the Hitchiti and the Spanish who colonized them are also woven through the stories, giving them weight as well as realism. In some stories, the river runs overwhelmingly powerfully; in others, the river is little more than a memory. As a Georgian, it is not only pleasurable to see names of places I recognize—Macon, Amicalolah, even Edge of the World—but awe-inspiring to recall the complex spirituality of the Southern experience. The protagonist of “Going to Water on Wise Creek” seems to understand how little there can be to fully understand: “By the time his prow creases the silt at the bottom of the take-out ramp with a gritty kiss, there isn’t much he knows” (Johnston 170). For all its ambivalence, Johnston makes one thing clear: the Ocmulgee River is a force to be reckoned with, but never forgotten about. 

Seven Islands of the Ocmulgee: River Stories is available from Mercer University Press 

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Whitney Cooper holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Eastern Kentucky University, where they served as editor-in-chief of Jelly Bucket, the graduate literary journal run by the university. They also work as a reader for Atlanta Review. A clerical error was made while earning their bachelor’s degree, and they have been passionate about poetry ever since. Their poetry appears in Glassworks Magazine, Stillpoint Literary Magazine, and others. They live in metro Atlanta with their wife, cat, and miniature schnauzer mix.