Summary
This is a story about my family and “the farm.” Drawing on experimental ethnography and Southern gothic literature, it is also an allegory about a heated eroding present. It slowly builds, like a fire, layering scenes of ordinary life with hallucinatory stories that flare up on the landscape. Historical hauntings and multiple ominous horizons. How things were and are. How things coulda been different. This both taps into and troubles the life and verve of real and imagined rural Kentucky, and more broadly, the gyrating heats, horrors, and hypocrisies of contemporary America during the late capitalist Anthropocene. An experiment in “swidden anthropology,” this essay also fans the flames, fuels disorientation and despair, and foments crisis in American anthropology, perhaps kindling new methods and forging new genres suited to these “dark” and haunted end times.