History is weird. Sometimes, the stuff that sounds like total science fiction turns out to be the most documented part of our past. If you’ve picked up Kim Michele Richardson’s novel, The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek, you probably thought the "blue people" were a creative metaphor or a bit of magical realism. They weren't.
Cussy Mary Carter, the protagonist of the book, is based on a very real, very isolated group of people in the Appalachian Mountains. They actually had blue skin. It wasn't paint, and it wasn't a curse. It was a rare genetic condition called methemoglobinemia.
People often approach this book looking for a simple historical romance or a cozy story about libraries. What they find is a gritty, often heartbreaking look at intersectional prejudice in 1930s Kentucky. It’s a story about the power of literacy, sure, but it’s mostly about how humans treat anyone who looks "other."
The Kentucky Blue People: Science, Not Fiction
The Fugates of Troublesome Creek are the real-world inspiration for Cussy Mary. Back in 1820, a French orphan named Martin Fugate settled in the hills of eastern Kentucky. He married a local woman named Elizabeth Smith. By a massive, statistical fluke, both of them carried a recessive gene for an enzyme deficiency.
Because the area was so isolated—we're talking about places where roads didn't exist and people stayed in the same hollows for generations—the gene stayed in the pool. When a child was born with two copies of that gene, their blood couldn't carry oxygen the way yours does. It stayed deoxygenated, appearing chocolate-brown through the vessel walls. The result? Skin that looked anywhere from a bruised plum color to a bright, Smurf-like sky blue.
Honestly, it's wild to think about. Imagine living in a community where your neighbor might be blue, and because you've never left the county, you think that's just a thing that happens.
But by the 1930s, when the book is set, the outside world was encroaching. The "Blue People" were treated as outcasts, not because they were sick—they were actually quite healthy and lived long lives—but because their skin color was seen as a mark of "blood impurity" or a moral failing. Richardson uses this to highlight the absurdity of Jim Crow-era laws. Cussy Mary is treated as "colored" under the law, forcing her to navigate a world that doesn't have a box for her.
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The Pack Horse Library Project: Roosevelt’s Wildest Idea
If the blue skin is the "hook" of the book, the Pack Horse Library Project is the heart.
During the Great Depression, FDR’s Works Progress Administration (WPA) had a problem. People in the deep Appalachian mountains were starving, not just for food, but for information. Literacy rates were abysmal. Schools were miles away through treacherous terrain.
So, they hired women.
These "Book Women" were paid about $28 a month. That’s it. For that pittance, they saddled up horses and mules to trek through some of the most dangerous, rugged territory in America. They didn't just deliver books. They delivered hope.
They carried everything from Robinson Crusoe to old seed catalogs. If a book was falling apart, they’d use flour-and-water paste to fix the pages. They were the original mobile librarians, and they were tough as nails. We're talking about women riding 20 miles a day in freezing rain, dodging copperheads and, occasionally, suspicious moonshiners who thought they were government spies.
Why the "Book Woman" Matters Today
We take the internet for granted. You can look up the "Blue People of Kentucky" in three seconds. But in 1936, for a family living in a hand-hewn cabin in Troublesome Creek, a scrap of a newspaper brought by a librarian was their only link to the rest of the planet.
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The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek captures the desperation of that thirst for knowledge. Cussy Mary isn't just delivering entertainment; she's delivering dignity. The mountain people she visits are often illiterate, but they recognize the value of the "word."
There's a specific detail in the book—and in the actual history—about "scrapbooks." Since books were scarce, the librarians and the mountain women would cut out recipes, sewing patterns, and news clippings to paste into old ledgers. These became community books, passed from house to house. It was basically a 1930s version of a wiki.
Dealing With the "Other" Novel Controversy
It's impossible to talk about this book without mentioning the elephant in the room: The Giver of Stars by Jojo Moyes.
Both books came out around the same time. Both are about the Pack Horse Library Project. Richardson, who is a native Kentuckian with deep ties to the region, publicly noted the similarities. The controversy sparked a massive debate in the literary world about "own voices" and who has the right to tell a specific regional story.
While Moyes' book is a more traditional, sweeping historical fiction, Richardson's work feels much more grounded in the specific, harsh reality of Kentucky life. She doesn't gloss over the poverty. She doesn't make the mountains look like a postcard. It’s dirty, it’s violent, and it’s deeply rooted in the specific "Blue People" history that Moyes' book doesn't touch.
Accuracy Check: Did People Really Hate the Blue People?
Short answer: Yes.
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In the book, Cussy Mary faces horrific discrimination. People think her blueness is a sign of "disorder" or something contagious. This mirrors the real-life accounts of the Fugate family. They became incredibly reclusive. They married cousins not necessarily because they wanted to, but because no one else would marry into a "blue" family.
It wasn't until the 1960s that a hematologist named Madison Cawein tracked them down. He realized they were just missing an enzyme. He treated them with methylene blue—which is ironic because a blue dye actually turned their blood red and their skin pink.
Imagine living your whole life being persecuted for your color, and it could have been "fixed" with a simple pill. That’s the tragedy Richardson taps into.
Why You Should Care
The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek isn't just a "book club" read. It’s a reminder that geography is often destiny. If you were born in a hollow in Kentucky in 1910, your world was the size of a few miles.
It also reminds us that libraries are radical.
The idea that the government would pay a woman to ride a mule into the wilderness just so a poor kid could read a story is, frankly, one of the coolest things America has ever done. It was a brief window where the value of a citizen wasn't measured by their wealth, but by their access to the human record.
Actionable Ways to Explore the History
If the story of Cussy Mary resonated with you, don't just stop at the last page. There are ways to see this history for yourself.
- Visit the Pack Horse Library Museum: There is a small but dedicated museum in Hindman, Kentucky, that preserves the history of these incredible women.
- Research the WPA Records: The National Archives has digitised thousands of photos from the Pack Horse Library Project. Looking at the actual faces of the women who rode those trails makes the novel feel much more visceral.
- Read the Sequel: If you need to know what happens to the legacy of the Blue People, Richardson wrote a sequel called The Book Woman's Daughter. It follows Cussy's daughter, Honey, as she deals with the same prejudices in a slightly more modern (but still very backwards) era.
- Check Your Local Library: Support the modern-day "Book Women." Public libraries are still underfunded and still provide the same essential services that Cussy Mary did—internet access, job help, and, of course, books.
- Study Methemoglobinemia: If the science fascinates you, look up the work of Dr. Madison Cawein. It’s a masterclass in how "medical mysteries" are often just ignored genetic quirks.
The story of the Fugates and the librarians of Troublesome Creek serves as a bridge. It connects the extreme isolation of the past with our hyper-connected present. It asks us what we're willing to endure to help our neighbors, and more importantly, what we're willing to learn about those who look different from us. Cussy Mary Carter might be a fictional character, but the dirt on her boots and the blue of her skin come from a very real, very American place.