Every week, more than 200 letters arrive at the Appalachian Prison Book Project (APBP). The envelopes, colorfully decorated with drawings of hummingbirds, outer space, and even SpongeBob SquarePants, never fail to surprise and delight the volunteers whose job is to open them and respond. Inside, inmates request reading materials on everything from astronomy to the latest vampire romance. In return, every package of prison-bound books includes a note — “This book is free and yours to keep” — also the title of this meaningful collection detailing the reading practices and daily life in contemporary American prisons, as described by the inmates themselves.
Since its founding in 2004, the APBP has accumulated a remarkable archive of thousands of letters and artworks while distributing more than 70,000 books to incarcerated readers across Central Appalachia. In the six states served by the APBP (West Virginia, Virginia, Tennessee, Kentucky, Ohio, and Maryland), more than 250,000 people are incarcerated — rates that far exceed the national average.
The rise of the rural “prison economy,” marketed as salvation for the economically struggling region, is, in reality, another example in a pattern of systemic regional exploitation. The APBP editors note in Chapter 3: “The prison industry’s exploitation of Appalachia continues a long-standing pattern of fractured families and social networks… today’s prisons built on mountaintop removal sites; the profit-making industries surrounding the carceral state; and lobbying for penal policies that truck bodies into prisons.”
Through this collection’s deeply personal letters and artwork, the APBP provides a platform for rarely heard voices while advocating for the end of mass incarceration in Appalachia. Editor Katy Ryan asserts, “Our dream is not more books in confinement but an end to torture, not more programs in prisons and jails but an end to mass incarceration and perpetual punishment.”
The book is a curated selection of letters, book requests, artwork, and poetry from the larger archive. The chapters are organized along key themes, like the literary interests of incarcerated readers, Kafkaesque restrictions to reading materials, and the devastating impacts of isolation. The result is a convincing argument of how the innate human desire to read, learn, and grow not only exists within those in confinement but, in fact, intensifies.
In prison, where information access is tightly controlled, almanacs become “prison internet,” nutrition guides supplement poor access to health care, science fiction sparks book clubs, and legal texts become tools for self-advocacy. One incarcerated reader shared, “Because of your book program sending me Michie’s West Virginia Code Annotated, I was able to litigate an amended sentence order from life without parole to eligibility for parole after serving 15 years. In other words, you helped save my life.”
To the individuals who are incarcerated, the book packages they receive are invaluable. But equally significant are the letters they send. Written in earnest pursuit of connection and knowledge, each letter mailed to the APBP offers insight into the prison system and those caught in its process, challenging views of both those incarcerated and the institution itself. Each letter also represents an individual, whether the book requester is interested in learning Italian, dog training, or West Virginia history, or in the case of David, who had this request:
“My interests are more on the academic side with preference to history, biography, Jewish Studies, 19th–20th century comparative literature, quality current fiction, the sciences (readable by the layman) including cosmology/astronomy, and birds and animals (e.g. Wesley the Owl was a delight). Particulars on my wish list, Dickens’ Martin Chuzzlewit, Thomas Mann’s two volume Joseph… Balzac is always good.”
This collection is a powerful reminder of the humanity of a population locked inside an inhumane system. “These materials are a testament to the ways people held captive in our region continue to learn, to grow, and to support one another and their loved ones,” notes Katy Ryan.
One incarcerated reader, James Arthur, captures the importance of creative expression in this excerpt from a poem, “Untitled,” shared with the APBP:
Can you imagine a weapon made of ink and tears,
Where your pen produces sentences in an attempt to neutralize your fears?
Try to imagine that pen as an instrument of peace,
Immersed within the pressure, searching for any release.
This Book is Free and Yours to Keep serves as both a love letter to reading and a reminder of the lifesaving impact that literature can have on individuals physically confined by their governments and socio-economic circumstances. The editors emphasize, “A book is such a simple offering, but after it has navigated the labyrinth of rules and regulations to end up inside a prison, it can mean everything.”
NONFICTION
This Book Is Free and Yours to Keep: Notes from the Appalachian Prison Book Project
Edited by Connie Banta, Kristin DeVault-Juelfs, Destinee Harper, Katy Ryan, & Ellen Skirvin
West Virginia University Press
Published December 1, 2024
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