Growing up in Buncombe County, I was introduced to Thomas Wolfe at an early age. I remember no fewer than three field trips to the “Old Kentucky Home” throughout my school years, and it was instilled in me and my classmates that the Look Homeward, Angel author was our claim to literary fame. No one else was ever mentioned, so it seemed to me that Wolfe was the only local author who “mattered.” After all, Western North Carolina isn’t a place where many influential folks are raised (or so I once thought).
Like many Appalachians, I grew up with the understanding that folks around here are often viewed as poor, uneducated, and “behind the times” compared to the rest of the country. Hillbillies. Rednecks. And whether it was intentional or not, I was encouraged to dodge those stereotypes with all my might. For a time, I worked diligently to “correct” my accent—I strived to eliminate words like “ain’t” and “cain’t” from my vocabulary as a means of trying to prove the stereotypes wrong—to “sound educated.”
At a certain point, I thought I had successfully altered my speech enough to disguise my upbringing but was quickly proven wrong while on a trip to New York City with the Erwin High School chorus when I went back and forth with a Starbucks barista over the word “lid.”
“Can I have a lee-uhd please?”
“A what?”
“A lee-uhd?” I gestured at the stack of lids behind the counter.
“Oh. I didn’t know that word had so many syllables,” he grumbled, rolled his eyes, and handed me a lid.
I was so embarrassed. I thought for sure I had managed to conform to some standard American accent, but I was obviously wrong. That experience underscored the shame I felt around my accent (whether I realized it or not) and reinvigorated my drive to eliminate it.
It wasn’t until I started college that I would learn that those stereotypes are exactly that— stereotypes— developed over more than 100 years of misrepresentations of mountain people in popular media. I fell in love with Appalachian Studies and local history, and was finally introduced to another influential local author, Jim Wayne Miller. I was astonished to learn about Miller for the first time, especially considering I was raised in the very same community he called home. I’m not sure I can explain the sudden and unexpected sense of pride I felt in realizing that a celebrated poet was from my very own neck of the woods. Then I felt annoyed that a college literature class was the first I ever heard of him.
Jim Wayne Miller (1936–1996), raised in the Leicester community in northwestern Buncombe County, would go on to become one of Appalachia’s most influential literary voices. His writing, in particular his poem “The Brier Sermon,” captures both the beauty and tension of mountain life, articulating truths that remain deeply relevant to the people of Western North Carolina today.
Although known widely for his translations of German literature, Miller’s greatest impact may lie in his poetry about the Appalachian region. As Wilma Dykeman once wrote, his translations were “praiseworthy, revealing a truly sensitive and perceptive knowledge of the German language,” yet it was his mountain-rooted poetry that earned him lasting acclaim.[1] His poems introduce readers to farmers, fishermen, hunters, preachers, and homemakers—people Miller knew well from his childhood in Leicester. For many long-time residents, these characters feel immediately familiar.
Miller’s “The Brier Sermon” stands apart from much of his work for its scale and its clarity of message. The poem unfolds through two narrators: an unnamed voice who sets the scene, and the Brier himself, who creates an impromptu pulpit in front of a hardware store one Saturday morning.
Miller opens with the preacher’s challenge to his listeners:
You may say, Preacher, where is your Black Bible?
Why ain’t you preaching down sin?
You may say preacher, why ain’t you talking about hell?
What about lipstick and short dresses?
What about cigarettes and whiskey?
What about dope and long hair?
These lines intentionally echo the cadence of twentieth century evangelists, signaling that while the Brier may be preaching, his message is not strictly biblical. Instead, he speaks to the spiritual and cultural condition of Appalachian people.
The term Brier itself—meaning poor Appalachian migrants who moved to Midwestern industrial cities—signals Miller’s theme: a people struggling between shame and pride, between tradition and change.
Throughout the sermon, Miller critiques the choices of his generation of Appalachians. The Brier argues that mountain people have abandoned the land and the traditions passed down to them:
In my father’s house, Jesus said.
Our foreparents left us a home here in the mountains.
But we try to live in somebody else’s house.
The preacher warns against distancing oneself from heritage simply because it appears “not factorymade.” While he acknowledges that “You don’t have to live in the past. You can’t even if you try,” he insists that “the past is living in you.” This tension— between past and present, between belonging and alienation—defines the sermon and the Appalachian experience it reflects.
Later in the poem, Miller gives voice to the external judgments placed upon mountain communities:
They said we were trash, said we were Briers.
They said, You’re proud and independent.
They said, You’re narrowminded.
They said, You’re right from the heart of America.
They said, You’re the worst part of America.
They said, We ought to be more like you.
They said, You ought to be more like us.
These lines show the contradictions Appalachians have faced (and arguably still do): reviled and romanticized, admired and dismissed. The Brier ultimately urges listeners to “see themselves.” When they do, he says, they can be “born again,” becoming “the best of both…like being old wine in a new bottle.”
Some critics have dismissed Miller’s work as folk art. Acclaimed author Fred Chappell, another Western North Carolina native, retorted that while the term folk art can be used mockingly, true folk artists pursue “home truths,” creating work meant for readers to “look through, not at.”[2]
In my opinion, this idea aligns Miller’s poetry with other mountain folk artists, such as the Martin family of Swannanoa, known for their wood carvings depicting everyday mountain life—women feeding chickens, bricklayers at work, men singing around a pulpit. Their carvings, like Miller’s preacher, speak quietly yet profoundly about the experiences and memories that shape Appalachian identity. Their power lies not in grandeur, but in the viewer’s ability to see their personal experiences reflected back at them.
Ramsey Library Special Collections, UNC Asheville, Wade and Wayne Martin Master Woodcarver Collection, RA2006.04.
The Leicester History Project seeks to preserve exactly the kinds of stories Miller wrote about. Deeply personal stories rooted in land, family, daily work, and community belonging. Miller’s work provides a pathway for community members to understand how memory shapes modern life, and how pride in place can strengthen cultural continuity.
The aim of the Leicester History Project is not only to collect stories, images, and documents, but to cultivate community memory, deepen our understanding of our shared past and present, and support a sense of community and belonging.
Miller’s assertion that “the past is living in you” can be read as an invitation for Leicester residents (and beyond!) to recognize the value of their own experiences, traditions, and family stories.
“The Brier Sermon” is both a mirror and a guide: a reminder that the stories of families, neighborhoods, and community landmarks are worthy of celebration, preservation, and pride.
To honor Miller’s legacy and explore the themes of his work, I hope you’ll join us for an upcoming program at the Leicester Branch Library on August 13, 2026 at 5:30 pm featuring UNC Asheville English professor and Thomas Howerton Distinguished Professor of Humanities Dr. Erica Abrams Locklear. We will learn about several of his published works, focusing primarily on The Brier Poems. “Dr. Erica” first introduced me to Miller and is a Leicester gal herself!
This program will invite community members to reflect on Miller’s work, share personal memories of Leicester, and consider how poetry can strengthen local identity. It is an opportunity to see how history, art, and storytelling come together to create a sense of belonging—a chance to “change and stay the same,” as the Brier encourages.
A limited number of copies of The Brier Poems are available for FREE at the Leicester Branch Library. Please drop by and grab a copy if you’d like to read Miller’s work before the program!
The Brier’s message is ultimately hopeful. Although Appalachians have often been misunderstood, stereotyped, or told conflicting stories about themselves, the Brier urges them to rediscover pride in who they are. His call for renewal, to be “born again,” is not about erasing the past but embracing it.
For Leicester, his poetry reminds us that community history is not just something we preserve; it is something we live. Through the Leicester History Project and gatherings like the upcoming poetry program, Miller’s home truths continue to guide, inspire, and strengthen the community he loved.
To learn more about the Leicester History Project, view the growing collection, and get involved visit leicesternc.omeka.net, drop by the Leicester Branch Library, or visit us in Buncombe County Special Collections.
Post by Katherine Cutshall, Buncombe County Special Collections Manager.
Further Reading and Research Resources
The Brier Poems (Frankfort, KY: Gnomon Press, 1997) – Visit the Leicester Library for a free copy!
Every Leaf a Mirror: A Jim Wayne Miller Reader (Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 2014)
Appalachia Inside Out (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1995)
Six Poets from the Mountain South (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2010).
“Jim Wayne Miller,” (1936-1996)” in Chapter 16 (Humanities Tennessee, 2011).
Author website, jimwaynemiller.net.
Documentary, “I Have a Place: The Poetry of Jim Wayne Miller” (Western Kentucky University, 1985)
In Appalachian Journal:
- “An Interview with Jim Wayne Miller, ” Appalachian Journal 6, no. 1 (Spring 1979): 207-223.
- Dyer, Joyce, “Dialogue with a Dead Man.” Appalachian Journal 26, no. 1 (Fall 1998): 32–43.
In Appalachian Heritage:
- George Brosi, “Jim Wayne Miller,”Appalachian Heritage 37, no. 3 (2009): 11-15. https://dx.doi.org/10.1353/aph.0.0151.
- Wilma Dykeman, review of Newfound by Jim Wayne Miller, Appalachian Heritage 25, no. 4 (1997): 65-66. https://dx.doi.org/10.1353/aph.1997.0098.
- Rita S. Quillen, “Looking For Native Ground: The Appalachian Poetry of Jim Wayne Miller and Fred Chappell,” Appalachian Heritage 11, no. 2 (1983): 42-55. https://dx.doi.org/10.1353/aph.1983.0031.
Archives:
- Jim Wayne Miller papers, Berea College Special Collections & Archives, BCA 0325.
- Jim Wayne Miller media reference collection, Berea College Special Collections & Archives.
- Interview with Jim Wayne Miller, June 18, 1992. Kentucky Writers Oral History Project, Louie B. Nunn Center for Oral History, University of Kentucky Libraries.
Endnotes
[1] Heather Dent for Berea College, “Jim Wayne Miller,” Berea College, https://libraryguides.berea.edu/jimwaynemiller. (Accessed 4/24/2018).
[2] Fred Chappell, “Two Modes: A Plea for Tolerance,” The Appalachian Journal, Vol. 5, 3, (Spring 1978), 338.
