Pauline Nevins

A woman wearing a hat with a stuffed rooster atop, pen in hand, working on a memoir, is difficult to take seriously. Beneath the hat was Terry Wicks, perpetual winner of the Gold Country Writer’s “Best Hat Contest” – a fun side event to the annual 100-word story contest where the audience doffs their hats to the winner. I was a runner-up to the rooster despite wearing a fetching fascinator, a hat style typically worn by British Royalty, loaned to me by my friend Helene.

Terry was reminding me I had never attended the yearly writers’ retreat at her seven-acre ranch and described this year’s invited speaker and a subject that intrigued me.

On the appointed day, off I motored down Interstate 80 to the small town of Penryn. I’d passed the sign many times and often wondered if someone named the town after Penrhyn in Wales but dropped the ‘h.’

At Terry’s ranch, a woman who you’d want on your side in a bar fight muscled a large umbrella behind the speaker’s table. The afternoon sun was scorching, and I moved a folding chair from one of the neat rows and positioned it under the moving shade of a crab apple tree.

Monica Gillman Gavia made her way to stand behind the speaker’s table and the small stacks of her historical fiction book titled Strangers and Sojourners in a Town Called Penryn – Adeline. Monica was soft-spoken, and I was so intent on finding shade that I was practically out of earshot, but what I could hear fascinated me. I invited Monica to meet me for coffee the following week at Depoe Bay in Auburn.

As so often happens in writing, one road can lead you onto an entirely different path. Such was the case for Monica. The subject of her first book was to be a history of Griffith Griffith, the Welsh immigrant who founded the town of Penryn. (Aha! Was he the one who dropped the “h” from Penrhyn, his hometown in Wales?).

While deep in her research, Monica recalled a childhood encounter with Lucy, an elderly neighbor. Young Monica listened transfixed while Lucy told the story of an 8-year-old slave girl named Adeline, whose owners sent her across the country in a covered wagon from Mississippi to Stewart’s Flat, later renamed Penryn. The memory reignited Monica’s imagination. Griffith Griffith was abandoned. Her book would now be Adeline.

For five years, Monica dug through the Placer County archives and census records (thankfully, now available online). She dived into the marriage license records and land ownership of the two white families connected to Adeline. She mailed questionnaires to older people in the community requesting an interview. Even those who didn’t want to be interviewed were considerate enough to return the questionnaire.

When it came time to self-publish, Monica chose an unconventional style, leaving her name out of the interior pages and widely spacing the text.

“The first printing,” said Monica, “came out all messed up. I thought double spacing would make it easier to read. I also didn’t include my research references because I purposely changed the names of the main characters. The relatives of the two families featured in the book may still have family in the surrounding areas, although none responded to my inquiries. They may not have known anything about their great grandparents or extended family."

I was also curious about the excerpts from Scripture that preceded each chapter. “Weren’t you concerned,” I asked, “that inserting these passages would distract some readers? They surprised me.”

“That’s part of who I am,” Monica said. “I tried to select Scripture passages that connected with the theme of the chapters.”

Monica also wove slave dialect into her story. I don’t like to decipher when I read. But this time, I didn’t skip the dialogue. I found it enhanced the character of Adeline. I could hear her voice. Sympathize with her.

I wondered whether Monica received any negative feedback. She is a white woman, writing about a black slave’s experience. Some might call it cultural appropriation. In the book’s foreward, Monica explained: “... It is not my intention, by relating Adeline's life story, to disparage any person, place, or institution. My only desire is to share her remarkable life story with others.”

I recalled that at the conclusion of her presentation at the Penryn ranch, Monica handed out three sheets of paper. One featured a black and white grainy photograph of a young girl, and the other two included excerpts from “Lucy,” Monica’s second book. Lucy was that elderly neighbor, now passed away. She was the daughter of the little slave girl.