Big Lies in a Small Town: A Novel

“From somewhere in the heavens, her mother was applauding.”

When Anna decides to accept the Edenton mural commission, she does so on blind faith. She has never been south of the Mason-Dixon Line before, she is still grieving the death of her mother, and she knows no one in Edenton. But her mother always advised her to take risks, and so, heeding that advice feels like a tribute to her. Despite her mother’s mental illness, the connection between them was strong up until her death, and the best way for her to honor her mother’s memory is to take that leap into the unknown.

“This is the new Morgan, I thought sadly to myself. The Morgan afraid of the outside world.”

After a year of incarceration, a traumatizing year during which Morgan feared for her life every day, she is thrust back into the outside world with no preparation. The acclimation process is rough at first, and she finds herself anxious about riding in a car, an understandable fear given her traumatic car accident. For Morgan, prison is a sobering wake-up call, and she fears that the experience has transformed her into someone afraid of and crippled by the daily routines that most people take for granted.

“Things were different back then. Maybe she'd just been depressed and was never able to get treatment for it.”

So much of Anna Dale’s life story is cloaked in mystery. The rumor is that she succumbed to mental illness, and as Morgan and Lisa discuss the history of the mural, Morgan speculates that to be “crazy” in 1940 was simply to have a mental illness that was not yet understood or diagnosed. For women in particular, the history of mental health treatment has not been kind, and Morgan wonders if Anna was the victim of a male-dominated psychiatric field that simply didn’t understand her personal trauma.

“‘Even so,’ she continued, ‘they had to buy this place for cash. No one would have given a black man a loan for a house in this neighborhood back then. It’s hard enough now.’”

Jesse’s house is a grand, regal structure, but Lisa notes that he had to pay cash for it because no bank would lend him the money. It is significant that such racist attitudes manifest even in the more contemporary timeline of the novel, for with this detail, Chamberlain emphasizes that The Legacy of Racism continues on into the present day. With so much controversy over censoring difficult or uncomfortable history, it is noteworthy that these real estate practices that excluded so many Black families from traditionally white neighborhoods were not a product of some distant past but were still common practice even in the 1980s.

“Which was the real Edenton? she wondered. The gritty-looking harbor or the elegant houses? How could she capture the true feeling of a place so unfamiliar to her?”

As Anna explores Edenton, she observes the paradox of a town undergoing renewal and change, caught between its industrial history and the gentrification of new money. She is torn, and wonders how can she do justice to a town that exhibits so many conflicting characteristics. She unwittingly concedes Martin’s argument that only a local artist can capture the unique flavor of a town’s true essence. Conversely, however, as an outsider, Anna is not burdened by local ties or biases. She can view Edenton as an objective observer and therefore create a more objective tribute.

“Their presence, their earthy scent, their very existence—especially the green-eyed blonde guy who, except for his man bun, looked a lot like Trey—felt intoxicating.”

After a year in prison—and the heartbreak of Trey’s betrayal—Morgan is suddenly working alongside men of her own age, and she is unprepared for the hormonal rush of attraction. Ironically, what eventually captures her heart is not the rugged masculinity of Adam and Wyatt but the stability and kindness of Oliver.

“‘Why isn't a pretty girl like you married?’ he asked, knocking her off balance with the question, although she'd certainly been asked it more than once. ‘You're not one of them divorcées, are you?’”

One of the many aspects of culture shock that Anna experiences in Edenton is the sexist assumption that if she is not married, something must be wrong. Anna is in her early twenties, but the strict gender norms of the South in 1940 dictate that marriage is the only valid option for a young woman. Even marriage ending in divorce comes with its own set of judgments. Anna gamely evades the question, trying to placate the men while remaining truthful to herself.

“‘Oh, honey,’ she said, ‘They know proper English. They just don’t want to sound like they’re above their raisin.’”

After meeting with the mayor and several of Edenton’s business leaders, Anna expresses confusion at their particular brand of jargon. Myrtle tells her that the men’s use of “poor grammar” is a rhetorical choice meant to convey a sense of camaraderie with the “average Joe” (so as not to be perceived as above their “raising”). It’s a strategy used effectively by modern politicians as well, under the assumption that projecting the image of being “of the people” will help one to gain the favor of the majority.

“Well, you might have to worry about that in New Jersey, but it won't be a problem down here.”

Part of the tension between Anna and the citizens of Edenton comes not only from the North/South culture clash but from the urban/rural divide. Small-town assumptions about urban centers—impersonal, rife with crime—come to the fore as Anna suggests locking the warehouse at night to safeguard her art supplies. The mayor responds with a condescending dig at big cities. In the end, Anna’s fears are justified, but not in the way she imagines.

“Anna couldn't help but wonder why, if Miss Myrtle felt that way about Edenton's colored citizens, she made Freda go outside to use her own separate bathroom, rain or shine.”

By most measures, Myrtle seems to be among Edenton’s more progressively minded citizens. She urges Anna to include the Tea Party in her mural and argues that the town’s Black residents deserve just as much representation in the mural as its white residents. Yet despite these assertions, she maintains separate bathroom facilities for her Black housekeeper. In this way, Chamberlain uses the character of Myrtle to make a wry comment about those who advocate for social justice as long as it doesn’t touch them personally. Myrtle is fine with racial equity as long as it remains an ethical concept rather than a systemic practice.

“People didn't appreciate their freedom, that was all there was to it.”

As Morgan enjoys music for the first time in a year, she realizes how most people take for granted the basic amenities of life—music, food, and free time. Only when those simple pleasures are taken away do people develop more appreciation for them. If nothing else, her time in prison has made her value those simple things, and she vows to “never [go] back in that hellhole” (109).

“She was nothing more than a wealthy woman so desperate to keep her family home that she'd ruin a piece of valuable art to hold on to it.”

When Lisa pressures Morgan to rush the restoration job, Morgan responds with a guarded anger. She realizes in this moment that she cares deeply about this art piece and wants to honor both it and the artist by doing a proper, professional job. With this exchange, Morgan transitions from a hired gun only concerned about staying out of prison to a dedicated artist.

“Church was important here, and she wanted to stay on people’s good side.”

One example of the cultural difference between Edenton and Plainfield is the Bible verse printed on the front page of the local paper. It seems to Anna like a blatant violation of the separation of church and state, but she also recognizes it as matter of civic importance to the community. As an outsider, she would only make enemies if she were to lecture the citizens about how things are done up north.

“Our history goes back a long way. There were white big shots who had black women on the side, or forbidden love that couldn't be out in the open, or rape, maybe. Who knows? A lot of powerful men and powerless women over the generations.”

When Morgan visits the Williams family farm and sees white kids and Black kids playing together, she is stunned when Lisa tells her that they are all related. Recounting a history of slavery, of the rape of Black women, and of white enslavers with Black mistresses, Lisa gives Morgan a condensed history lesson in the Black experience: one that rarely makes it into the history books.

“When Theresa and Peter arrived, Jesse changed into a different boy. His bravado and self-confidence seemed to disappear, and it took Anna a while to realize that he felt the need to defer to them. That deference was expected of him.”

Edenton’s lingering racism shows itself in many subtle ways, not the least of which is Jesse’s change of attitude around white kids. In an era of separate-but-equal legal codes and random lynchings, anything less can spell big trouble, as Jesse knows all too well. Jesse’s family lives relatively prosperously as long as they cause no controversy, but the moment their world overlaps with the white world, a certain shift in behavior is tacitly demanded of them. This behavioral code-switching is practically hard-wired into the Black residents of Edenton in 1940.

“I guess you have to ask yourself if having this Jesse helping you is going to create more trouble than it’s worth.”

As Anna spends more time with Pauline—her only real friend in town—she begins to see Pauline’s true loyalties. Pauline is only a friend as long as their activities are restricted to shopping and lunch, but when Anna defends Jesse’s presence at the warehouse, Pauline becomes just another town gossip, fretting over Anna’s reputation and making false assumptions about a young Black man whose only desire is to become a better artist. This shift in dynamic is a wake-up call for Anna, a signal that Pauline’s friendship does not extend across race lines.

“I think it’s safe to say that, for whatever reason, she had her own share of nightmares. I know you already care about her, don’t you?”

As Morgan discusses her past with Oliver, he points out a connection between her and Anna—Morgan is plagued by nightmares of the accident, and the bizarre images in the mural suggest that Anna had similar nightmares. These shared traumatic events draw them closer, and the more Morgan works on the mural, the more she catches glimpses of Anna’s tormented soul and the more she sees the restoration project as more than just a job; it becomes, for Morgan, a chance at redemption.

“‘Don’t matter what your intent or his intent be,’ his mother said. ‘People see things where there ain't nothing to see.’”

As Anna tries to persuade Jesse’s parents of their son’s talent, they can’t help but focus on the dangerous optics of Jesse working too closely with a young, white woman. Anna insists that her intentions are pure, but she still refuses to acknowledge what everyone else in town knows, including the Williamses: that appearances are everything, and as long as there is the appearance of impropriety, the gossip will continue unabated, thereby potentially putting Jesse’s life in danger. This truth supersedes any amount of artistic talent.

“Why she said them to Jesse but not Miss Myrtle, not Pauline, she had no idea. But there they were, a burden of syllables dumped on the shoulders of a seventeen-year-old boy.”

Thus far, Anna hasn’t told a soul about her mother’s suicide, but when Jesse paints a portrait of his mother for her birthday, it triggers a memory of her own mother’s birthday. Anna’s confession is both an emotional release—she’s been holding on to her grief for so long, unable to unburden herself until now—but also a sign of how much she has come to trust Jesse, not just as a protégé but also as a friend. The foundation of friendship they build in these few months in Edenton sustains their relationship for decades.

“Anna didn't look at the paint when she walked from her car to the door. That was the way she dealt with it.”

Although a month has passed since a racist slur was painted on the side of the warehouse, the racist attitudes of the hatred that lurks behind the vandalism has not disappeared. Postmaster Arndt and Peter have painted over the racist tirade, but Anna cannot forget the words that lie beneath. As time passes, however, she buries her head in the sand and ignores the incident, hoping that it is just an aberration, a harmless prank, despite Jesse’s warning that the warehouse isn’t safe at night. Anna insists on seeing the world the way she wants it to be rather than how it is, and this proves to be a willful blindness that prevents her from taking sensible precautions.

“She was so sore between her legs. Torn up. She knew her body would heal. Her mind, her heart, her soul, though—she wasn't so sure.”

In the aftermath of Martin’s assault, Anna is initially aware of the physical damage to her body, but she knows that the damage to her spirit is far worse. Bodies heal in time, but the overwhelming sense of violation, the feeling of being “ruined” will stay with her for far longer. Anna’s emotional state is a terrible reminder that sexual assault takes a profound spiritual toll as well as a physical one.

“‘Martin’s a local artist who knows this town like the back of his hand, dear,’ the woman said in that kindly Southern voice that could mask dangers.”

Much is said about Southern hospitality and civility, but Chamberlain, a resident of North Carolina, implies that this façade of politeness can also hide a viper’s venom. Sometimes—as in the case of Martin’s wife—the venom is openly displayed, but for others, like the anonymous woman who confronts Anna in the warehouse, their true intentions are hidden—not so subtly—behind a wall of Southern charm. The gossip about Anna and Jesse is whispered behind closed doors, but once that gossip reaches a fever pitch, it can easily and quickly turn into violence.

“This poor child would always remind me of Martin. Of that night. Of what he did.”

Presented in the book in italics, Anna’s journal is how she confesses everything—the rape, the murder, Jesse’s involvement—to Aunt Jewel. Part of the lingering trauma of Martin’s assault is to rob Anna of any joy she might have had with her pregnancy. When she feels the baby stir in her, she feels only revulsion, a weight she is eager to shed. Yet even Jewel, who could terminate the pregnancy, insists Anna carry it to term, hoping that she will grow to love the child. That insistence forces a terrible burden on Anna, who must live with this unwanted presence for nine months on top of the trauma of the assault itself.