As Eddy Harris rode his motorbike around the American South, he spotted a sign Davies County Coon Hunters Club. A shiver went up his spine. What may have been a totally innocent club has more disturbing resonances for the author, a descendant of black slaves. He still remembers signs that said We cater to white only and still burns with the same rage. But for men like his father the stories of the Depression years are full of pain and shame - remembering his light-skinned girlfriend and the night four men in white sheets told him to get out of town; and his cousin Jessie who was lynched for trying to buy candy on credit along with some white boys. Stories like these conflict with the kindly old South, the gentility and grace which we also know about. The author travels in search of the new South.