Blood Kin grew out of a single image, a man walking home along a dirt road, combined with the stories of the brothers of my maternal grandfather, each of whom seemed to live a life touched deeply by the tragedies of the twentieth century.
At some point, probably further back than I’d care to recall, I became fixated on the suffering of others, and, more than that, how they dealt with suffering and loss. Blood Kin is my attempt to chart the lives of a family sundered by war, addiction, and disillusionment. That, of course, sounds terribly depressing. But I hope there is something redeeming in the human insistence of struggling in the face of what often seems if not cosmic malevolence, then at least cosmic indifference. I’ve known so many families for whom, like the Burdens, family, place, and faith are cornerstones of life. Often elusive, but ever-present. I hope I have done some measure of justice to those on whom this book is (loosely) based. —Mark Powell
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