This novel with the odd title Lazarus Pig began as a collection of stories about my grandparents, John and Mettie Snider, and my mother, Virginia Lee, who died when I was nine years of age. She was an only child. After she passed, my father made sure I spent time with my grandparents, since I, my brother, and my sister were their connection to their beloved daughter.
My grandparents lived in Denton, North Carolina in a house my grandfather had built. He was a house builder, horse doctor, farmer, and deacon at the Baptist church. My grandparents were a major influence in my life. They taught me that love can be quiet and steady, it can be like breathing and just being in the moment.
Love can be simple. It doesn't have to be complicated. My Grandpa was a man of few words, and he was always working. The days passed languidly at their place, but on occasion we'd visit their brothers and sisters, and I'd ride horses with my cousins or we'd chase their hogs.
I used details of real events in this novel, but much of it is invented around the framework of memories. For example, Peacock Shoe Store actually existed, and my grandmother worked there when she was a teenager. I expect I’m the only person on the planet she ever described the store to—in great detail—so that as a child I had a fully formed picture of it. (Isn’t it funny how so many things in our mind are ours alone, and never can be shared; well, I find that odd but I suppose it’s just obvious.)
My grandfather didn't fight in WWII, but my Great Uncle Edwert, Mettie's brother, did serve in WWI as an ambulance driver on an airfield, and he kept photographs in a footlocker that I enjoyed looking at when I visited. For a time, he lived with my grandparents. Edwert was a mechanic at a local filling station, and he had a drinking problem, however, no one in our family ever cooked moonshine (as far as I know).
I changed the name of the town from Denton to Silver Hill, a township near Denton. I thought Silver Hill was fitting because my grandparents lived on the hill above town, yet right on Main Street, and I felt that “silver” conveyed the value of my memories.
Pastor Jim Peters is an invented character, as is the Reverend Azel Peacock, although Jim has habits of speech borrowed from A.L. Parker, our pastor when I was a kid. I wanted to explore matters of faith because it is one of my great interests, particularly how brokenness and faith go hand-in-hand.
Some folks will call this a Christian novel, and I suppose it is, but to me it's a very personal family tapestry through which bold red threads of faith, doubt, and loss are woven.
- John Leslie Butchart