Dovey Coe by Frances O'Roark Dowell

My name is Dovey Coe and I reckon it don't matter if you like me or not. I'm here to lay the record straight, to let you know them folks saying I done a terrible thing are liars. I aim to prove it, too. I hated Parnell Caraway as much as the next person, but I didn't kill him.


When eleven-year-old Dovey Coe is found holding a knife and standing over the body of Parnell Caraway, the very man she has adamantly claimed to hate for years, she is charged with his murder. But Dovey is innocent of those charges. When she was knocked out, Parnell was standing over her, not the other way around. She has hated Parnell for as long as she can remember, but that doesn't mean she killed him.

Now Dovey is being defended by a lawyer who has never worked a case before and having to deal with the distaste of the entire community where she was raised. She knows she didn't do it, but who is going to believe her? And if she didn't kill Parnell, who did?

I read Dovey Coe for the first time in late elementary school and immediately loved it. Going back to it now, I see why it was such a favorite. Dovey is a strong character who is known for not being afraid to speak her mind. She's protective of her brother, who is deaf and therefore treated cautiously by the rest of the community, and she isn't afraid to bloody her knuckles to defend him.

One of the things I really appreciate about this book upon rereading it was the dialect in which the entire narrative is written. Dovey's accent bleeds through the pages as if she were speaking it aloud to reader. This minor touch goes the extra mile in pulling one into the story and immersing them in it.

This was definitely worth it and I would wholeheartedly suggest it to preteens and young teenagers especially--particularly those girls who need a strong role model their age that they can look up to.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

"How'd you get in here?" I asked Huck, who'd gone over and laid next to Tom, little whimpers coming out of his mouth. I looked about the room, wondering how long I'd been knocked out.
That's when I seen Parnell.
He was lying on the floor as stiff as Tom, one of them metal canisters a few feet away from his head. I crawled over to him and passed my hand over his mouth. There weren't a breath left in him.
"Oh, Lord," I said out loud. "Oh, my Lord."