Jones grew up in a place famous for wide sandy beaches and an aggressive, fun-in-the-sun tourism industry.

Starting with the narrator’s account of seeing the ghost of a woman she once knew, we are pulled into the depths of a landscape made vivid through its densely layered stories. Jones takes this responsibility seriously, as she carefully uncovers detail after detail of her experience of South Carolina, providing a more dynamic sense of setting. In addition to gaining leeway by including the supernatural, Jones also takes liberties with embellishing the story.

There is sharp prose.

Jones has succeeded in the role of family archivist, imploring us to see that the story of the Jones family is the story of South Carolina, and the story of J. Nicole Jones is the story of the women who preceded her. Low Country teaches the ways family is born out of place, and the ways we are born out of each other.

Reading Low Country...is like listening to a country music song written by Dostoyevsky (lots of crime, but the wrong folks getting punished), with Tom Robbins as his side man. And a little Tennessee Williams thrown in. There’s no doubt this talented young woman can write, often brilliantly. Many a passage of this familial strife and personal coming-of-age chronicle fairly hums on the page, amplified by sharp observation, razor-edge emotion and a delicious turn of phrase.

... a haunting, lyrical narrative.

Jones debuts with an intoxicating if puzzling story of her dysfunctional South Carolina family.

Ghosts and legends swirl in an affecting family memoir.