Finding Place: A Review of Tore All to Pieces by Willie Edward Taylor Carver Jr.
Willie Edward Taylor Carver Jr.’s Tore All to Pieces, published by the University Press of Kentucky in 2026, is a vivid portrait of what it means to create a life in Appalachia. In a time so mired with misunderstanding, division, and prejudice, Tore All to Pieces reminds us of the power of knowing where you come from and where you can find home —even though those people and places may not be the same.
Carver’s novel combines character-focused, interrelated, short stories showcasing the writer’s expert knowledge of family ties, trials, and tribulations with poetry that celebrates the POV characters in each chapter. In the often misunderstood and misrepresented setting of the Appalachian hills, Carver creates characters across time. The result is a book that explores generational kindness and judgement with a nuance that is often sorely missing from depictions of this place.
Carver is also the author of the poetry collection, Gay Poems for Red States, also published by the University Press of Kentucky. In addition to those larger works, Carver appears in Miracle Monocle’s A Little Sugar in the Tank with “Caught on Film” and many other publications, such as the Good Review Review and Lavender South.
Carver’s passion for Appalachia and ensuring every voice is heard comes through full-force in this novel, which operates at a beautiful high-point intersection between art and accuracy. Though told from multiple points of view and spanning from 1956 to 2023, at no point does Tore All to Pieces feel incomplete. We are given snapshots of each character, and each snapshot feels like a full rendering of who that character is in that moment. In this way, the environment comes to life and feels so real—a breath of fresh air and a jolt of nostalgia for those (like me) who grew up with the hills just a stone’s throw away.
As the novel progresses, we are treated to a slowly-developing tapestry, each poem and chapter becoming another piece to consider and examine, each piece becoming a place and person we can travel to and with. The poems are unique—not used to emphasize environment, but rather, to give us a view of the internal world of characters that would otherwise be shrouded by circumstance and dialect. Speaking of dialect, Carver never once sacrifices authenticity or clarity. He maintains a careful balance between a consideration for readers outside of the region while still honoring the real communication that is part of what makes Appalachia such a special place to be.
The novel opens with a gossipy caricature of our POV characters and cast, heard-it-through-the-grapevine style. It immediately places us in the setting, its own environmental story of stylized description. Possessives, professions, and idle commentary on the politics that have settled over this town, “People” is an introductory glossary that only becomes more relevant as the novel goes on.
We are then treated to a hand-drawn map of our town, Mosely, and are thrown into the narrative from there. What follows is a mundane scene—as are all the moments that fill all of our lives—but each story gives a history and a perspective that fills out our ideas of what this town is. From shifts at gas stations, to proms and floods, to domestic disputes and the care of elders, each chapter is accompanied by a poem to great effect.
Each section has its high points for me, but part of the joy of reading this novel is discovering what those high points are personally. Do you also have a sister that would drive you to pick up your car at the risk of being shot? Is there an uncle who would care for you and be your best friend when no one else would? Are you proud of years’ worth of work and tradition in canned food, food that may outlast you as your back and your strength fail you? These are moments that stood out to me as a reader, and there are many more to discover.
Significant, I think, to the book’s impetus is the last compilation of moments from the end of the novel. Consider this a spoiler warning. As the church burns down, and various other characters watch the flames spreading over the hills, they each remain entrenched in the narratives that they have crafted for themselves. There is support, yes, there is family, but there is also the isolation of tradition and expectation.
That isolation, which Carver has intentionally placed at the forefront of the novel, observes the preventable destruction of the church impassively. We know there will be rebuilding, though whether that should take place is a dubious question, but it will be changed, and it will come at a cost as most things do. The characters in the novel, as do we, must make that choice every day. Whether we build something better, and connect, or give way to our separations is up to us—regardless of what our own personal burning church might be.
If you’re interested in getting your hands on Carver’s other publications, you’ll find a complete listing on his website: https://williecarver.com.