1. The people of McIntosh County heard whispers of the Civil Rights movement that rocked the rest of the country during the 1960s, Greene tells us, but the county’s own political awakening was delayed by nearly a decade. What was it about this coastal region in the South that slowed social progress? Was it the geographical isolation? Was it the small size of the county? Did the fact that blacks and whites knew each other personally make the racial caste system less flexible? Or was the social delay due to the strong-arm tactics of local politics instituted by a powerful sheriff and legions of supporters? 2. For thirty-one years, Sheriff Tom Poppell ruled the county, manipulating every aspect of community life from the county jail and sheriff ’s office. With Poppell at the helm, McIntosh County may not have been the most reputable place in the South, but it prospered nonetheless. A strange sort of racial harmony existed there despite the enforced powerlessness of the region’s black citizens. As the author writes, “the Sheriff cared less about the colors black and white than he did about the color green. . . .” How much of racism is hatred and prejudice, and how much of it is simply a means to maintain power and control? 3. As the rumblings of social change became more noticeable in McIntosh County, the Tuesday and Thursday night prayer meetings at Shorters Chapel African Methodist Episcopal Church veered from being exclusively religious to being primarily political. Sharing the pulpit with Reverend Grovner, Brother Thurnell Alston spoke of local issues and reaimed the sacred words of the Bible, not unlike the community’s enslaved forebears, to address the political and social needs of the community. How did the African American church use the faith to strengthen its members to address issues of social justice? At the same time, how did the Southern white church use the same faith to perpetuate the status quo? Are houses of worship, in both white and African American society, still the cradles of social change? 4. Thurnell Alston’s election as county commissioner was a historic victory, one that made Alston appreciate his heralded role in the fight for civil rights. But within moments of winning, seeing the disgust on the faces of his white opposition, Alston knew that the message behind his election was not as absolute as he might have hoped. In what ways was Alston’s win at the polls merely a momentary victory? How much was winning worth, both to Alston the politician and Alston the husband and father? 5. As a county commissioner, Alston was known as a devoted fighter, directly responsible for a new medical facility in a black area and a social program that aided impoverished homeowners with much-needed renovations. At the same time, Alston was considered an annoying needler, always disagreeing with the status quo. Were these two opinions of Alston based solely on racial perspective, with blacks seeing him as an effective power broker and whites as a rabble-rouser? Or was Commissioner Alston really both noble and pesky at once? 6. David Walbert, one of the GLSP (Georgia Legal Services Program) lawyers, said of black leaders like Thurnell Alston: “I now realize that I—that we—idealized the black civil rights people. They represented something we were looking for, but they were regular human beings. They were real people, and real people are imperfect.” Alston, both regular and imperfect, leaves political office not as a hero but as a convicted felon. What are the factors that led to Alston’s disgrace? Was it Alston’s misguided desire to please everyone in sight? Was it yet another example of white authority out to discredit black progress? Or was it simply further proof that power corrupts? 7. In the chapter entitled “Praying for Sheetrock,” the author delineates three levels of history: the first, the accepted public history; the second, the specific local history; the third, the private stories of every individual. Among all the strange and wonderful stories in the book, which level of history is most represented? Which level of history seems the most important to the people of Darien, and to the people of the surrounding country? In the stories you weave of your own lives, describe the interlacing of public history, local history, and secret inner truths. 8. Greene relies heavily on the voices of her subjects to tell the story of the political movement of McIntosh County. The rich language of the black community, called Gullah, is described as “half-wild and lovely,” while Thurnell Alston’s choppy, meandering speech is likened to “parallel parking on a busy street.” Why is voice so important in this book? How do particularities of speech connect a community and, at the same time, create gaps among its citizens? Describe the accents and dialects and lingos common to your community. Are there accents you’ve encountered in life that you’ve particularly loved? Are there dialects that feel alien to you? Have you adopted turns-of-phrase from other cultures into your own vocabulary? 9. The title of Melissa Fay Greene’s book comes from the episode featuring Miss Fanny Palmer, the daughter of slaves, sitting in her ramshackle cabin in the South Georgia woods, freezing for lack of proper insulation. Unable to pay for necessary work on her home and ineligible for support from a local government run by whites, all Miss Fanny can do is pray for Sheetrock. In what ways does the title, Praying for Sheetrock, touch on the many issues—political, social, and religious—in Greene’s work of nonfiction? 10. As a work of nonfiction, Praying for Sheetrock is not inflated by facts and figures, or from layer upon layer of dry historical information. Melissa Fay Greene uses a variety of intriguing literary tools—poetic language, quirky character details, authentic dialogue—to make the book, as the critics say, “read just like a novel.” What are the novelistic techniques Greene employs to make her story come vibrantly alive? What makes Praying for Sheetrock a first-rate piece of storytelling Read Less