Product Description
by Lillah Lawson (Author)
Lillah Lawson has written a stunning elegy to America's past, its sins, and our constant drive to do better. SO LONG, BOBBY is a love letter not just to finding your home, but what it means to earn love, respect, and community. The secrets of the generational narrative unfold like a flower, pulling the reader in and making them a part of the family. A beautiful novel that never flinches from reality.-Emily J. Edwards, author of the Girl Friday Mystery series
"Aren't you tired of being told to smile, Bobbi?"
n 2018, a young woman - recovering from a horrific car accident and coming to terms with what it means to be disabled - is failing at managing a growing pain-pill addiction and holding down a job. When she stumbles upon an old box in the attic (REMOVE COMMA) full of 1960s memorabilia, She begins a frantic search to uncover the secrets of the box and find out where she came from, in the hopes that it will help her save her from herself.
Her search uncovers the story of Bobbi, a 1960s teen girl from Athens, Georgia, who dreams of meeting her hero, Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy. Disillusioned by the Vietnam war, Bobbi joins up with a group of young activists who are headed to Washington, D.C. to participate in the Poor People's Campaign and Bobby Kennedy's bid for President. Years later, in the 1990s, Bobbi's daughter makes a rash decision to hop on a bus and head to Seattle to start a new life. Once there, she meets a cast of creative but disillusioned young people who become her chosen family. Set against the backdrop of the grunge music scene, she grapples with a newfound addiction and a secret shame.
Three generations of women face hardship and upheaval in the decades we wistfully remember - times of political upheaval, heartfelt music, and steadfast dreams. It is a story about how inherited trauma can break down whole families, how addiction can destroy, how not living your truth can sink you in despair...but how hope can always carry you back into the light.
