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Sleeping At The Starlite Motel: And Other Adventures On The Way Back Home
Offers a collection of humorous stories about Southern characters, places, and goings-on, from leaky mansions to fishing camps to one-room schoolhouses
238 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1995
19 people are currently reading
1017 people want to read
About the author
Bailey White
36 books225 followersBailey White was born in 1950 in Thomasville, Ga. She still lives in the same house in which she grew up, on one of the large tracts of virgin longleaf pine woods. Her father, Robb White, was a fiction writer and later a television and movie script writer. Her mother, Rosalie White, was a farmer, and worked for many years as the executive director of the local Red Cross Chapter. She has one brother, who is a carpenter and boat builder, and one sister, who is a bureaucrat. White graduated from Florida State University in 1973, and has taken a break from teaching first grade to pursue writing full-time. She is the author of Sleeping at the Starlite Motel, Mama Makes Up Her Mind, and Quite a Year for Plums.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 141 reviews
May 22, 2009
It’s alright. This won’t hurt much. Take an insulin shot and prepare for a massive dose of sweetness.
Bailey White is a precise articulate writer. Without any discernable agenda, she observes the tenderness, often quirkiness around her. Her imagery is straightforward—all unnecessary alliterations gone. It’s like Sun Tzu for the soft and fluffy set, what isn’t needed, isn’t needed. What is left is writing at its most elemental. Add the strange peculiar oddities of characters living in the linear world of the deep south, stir with sly wit and you have a wonderful series of road trips.
“My Aunt Bella loves rocks. Her whole house used to be filled with rocks. Every flat surface was covered with slabs of amethyst crystal, piles of rainbow colored labradorite, bowls full of fossilized shark’s teeth big as a child’s hand, and agate geodes lined with quartz crystals. Outside, bigger rougher rocks were piled up to the eaves, with scant little chinks left for doorways and windows. Every afternoon, my Aunt Bella takes a bagful of rocks down to Shoney’s restaurant where she spreads them out on the Formica tabletop and says incantations over them while she drinks iced tea.”
In one episode Bailey takes Bella on a day trip to visit Mary Lawrence Shepard of Thomas Country, Georgia, a locally famous folk artist who began sculpting over-sizes cement statues of famous people in 1917. The author describes Miss Shepards now forgotten, overgrown yard littered with white crumbling monuments in loving detail. The artist offers tea and a guided tour. In her 90’s Ms. Shepard pulls mounds of honeysuckle off a buried chunk of concrete, fiddling with a hose, insisting she make the fountain of a young girl sitting on the edge of a pool flow for a few minutes. Now after dark and lit by the moon, Bailey describes the statue of the girl at the edge of the pond. “Her head was lowered and her eyes were looking down. There was no twinkle in her eyes and no coy smile on her lips. Her shoulders drooped, and her hands lay limp in her lap. Her feet in their cement shoes were the saddest feet I have ever seen. A jet of water rose into the sky, arched smoothly, then sobbed magnificently into the pool. We stood and watched it for a long time. The moonlight and the mist from the slashing water gave everything a strange luminescence.”
I realize the quotes don’t necessarily smack of great literature. Perhaps it is not. It is, however a brief gentle foray into rural Georgia seen through a chronicler with a deep sense of delicacy and charm. It is writing with such simple succinct straightforwardness, it will catch you off guard in strange unpredictable ways. Her observations are a delight.
Bailey White is a precise articulate writer. Without any discernable agenda, she observes the tenderness, often quirkiness around her. Her imagery is straightforward—all unnecessary alliterations gone. It’s like Sun Tzu for the soft and fluffy set, what isn’t needed, isn’t needed. What is left is writing at its most elemental. Add the strange peculiar oddities of characters living in the linear world of the deep south, stir with sly wit and you have a wonderful series of road trips.
“My Aunt Bella loves rocks. Her whole house used to be filled with rocks. Every flat surface was covered with slabs of amethyst crystal, piles of rainbow colored labradorite, bowls full of fossilized shark’s teeth big as a child’s hand, and agate geodes lined with quartz crystals. Outside, bigger rougher rocks were piled up to the eaves, with scant little chinks left for doorways and windows. Every afternoon, my Aunt Bella takes a bagful of rocks down to Shoney’s restaurant where she spreads them out on the Formica tabletop and says incantations over them while she drinks iced tea.”
In one episode Bailey takes Bella on a day trip to visit Mary Lawrence Shepard of Thomas Country, Georgia, a locally famous folk artist who began sculpting over-sizes cement statues of famous people in 1917. The author describes Miss Shepards now forgotten, overgrown yard littered with white crumbling monuments in loving detail. The artist offers tea and a guided tour. In her 90’s Ms. Shepard pulls mounds of honeysuckle off a buried chunk of concrete, fiddling with a hose, insisting she make the fountain of a young girl sitting on the edge of a pool flow for a few minutes. Now after dark and lit by the moon, Bailey describes the statue of the girl at the edge of the pond. “Her head was lowered and her eyes were looking down. There was no twinkle in her eyes and no coy smile on her lips. Her shoulders drooped, and her hands lay limp in her lap. Her feet in their cement shoes were the saddest feet I have ever seen. A jet of water rose into the sky, arched smoothly, then sobbed magnificently into the pool. We stood and watched it for a long time. The moonlight and the mist from the slashing water gave everything a strange luminescence.”
I realize the quotes don’t necessarily smack of great literature. Perhaps it is not. It is, however a brief gentle foray into rural Georgia seen through a chronicler with a deep sense of delicacy and charm. It is writing with such simple succinct straightforwardness, it will catch you off guard in strange unpredictable ways. Her observations are a delight.
July 7, 2008
I don't usually give books two stars because if I don't at least like it, I never finish it. But this book had enough interesting stories and was short enough that I read it to the end. I'm glad I found a used copy, though, because it wasn't worth full price.
August 17, 2019
This book captures perfectly the odd happenings in the little town in Georgia that Bailey knows so well and makes me laugh every time I read it--which is about twice a year.
October 30, 2014
This was a family read when I was eleven or twelve and recently decided to reread.
Sleeping at the Starlite Motel is a collection of short stories about life in the South. White's witty style easily captures her quirky characters and beautiful settings. Some of the stories are humorous and others are more melancholy, but they all record colloquial life as White experiences it. I also give White props for her excellent vocabulary!
The second time around, I perceived that many of these stories have to do with decline and loss whether that be a once sharp mind going senile, a grand house becoming dilapidated, or a tradition becoming obsolete. While not as funny as some of her other works, I still enjoyed it thoroughly. I definitely appreciated the life lessons more now that I have experienced some of them first hand.
Sleeping at the Starlite Motel is a collection of short stories about life in the South. White's witty style easily captures her quirky characters and beautiful settings. Some of the stories are humorous and others are more melancholy, but they all record colloquial life as White experiences it. I also give White props for her excellent vocabulary!
The second time around, I perceived that many of these stories have to do with decline and loss whether that be a once sharp mind going senile, a grand house becoming dilapidated, or a tradition becoming obsolete. While not as funny as some of her other works, I still enjoyed it thoroughly. I definitely appreciated the life lessons more now that I have experienced some of them first hand.
July 19, 2018
I’ve had this book for more than a decade. Somehow it always ended up on the bottom of my pile(s). But I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately and found that these short “adventures” helped me to relax and smile, and then sleep soundly. I am not saying that they are soporific. They are engaging and quiet, like comfort food for the mind. I loved the black and white barely legible maps on many pages. I know those places in Georgia! My favorite piece was An Old Lepidopterist, bittersweet, but mostly sweet.
June 2, 2008
ok book, but the stories weren't that entertaining to me. I felt like the third section of the book had her best stories. I felt like there was no real thread tying the stories together, and some of the stories were just getting good when they ended. The last chapter was probably her worst--and it was where she got the title for her book. I just felt like she stuck that one in there so she could have her title.
October 26, 2010
Essays, short pieces on family members, places, adventures. This author is known for her humor, but I can't seem to appreciate it, or even find it at times. I know when I should think something this supposed to be humorous but it doesn't work for me. This is probably my problem and not the authors. She seems rather successful with her 'Mama' series. But in this and the other book I read years ago she comes across as a sad person, a lonely person.
July 30, 2014
I think that to enjoy Bailey White's books, you have to have lived in the Deep South. I read this on a trip to Tallahassee (less than an hour from
White's home in Georgia). It got me through 10 days of taking care of my elderly mother. Many of White's stories are inhabited by old folks a lot like my mom. When I felt like crying, she makes me laugh
White's home in Georgia). It got me through 10 days of taking care of my elderly mother. Many of White's stories are inhabited by old folks a lot like my mom. When I felt like crying, she makes me laugh
July 7, 2024
If the South had a voice, it might be Bailey White's.
White's essays in this book are more about traveling than they are about home, but the Georgia native brings her naturally calming tone to the stories as usual. Her observations remain sharp, even when she finds the foibles of humans worth writing about.
White's essays in this book are more about traveling than they are about home, but the Georgia native brings her naturally calming tone to the stories as usual. Her observations remain sharp, even when she finds the foibles of humans worth writing about.
July 18, 2015
I just loved this. It's not often I can say this, but this book actually made me laugh out loud. It was the story about Bailey White and the other primary school teacher, Mrs Boatwright. They were sent to computer evening classes to learn how to use a computer so that they could then teach the other teachers at the school how to use the computer. But the course tutor completely missed the point and decided to run a course on the history of the computer. So the two ladies decide to bunk off, teach themselves. And for the remaining evenings they find something else to do. Mrs Boatwright!
These are more short articles about Bailey White's family, friends and life experiences. She's a primary school teacher living in Georgia in the USA. Although considering this book was published in 1995 - 20 years ago!! - she might be retired now. Who knows. I just love her writing. It's like chatting with an old and slightly eccentric family. And appreciating the little, simple things in life, whilst realising that just because they're simple, doesn't mean that they are insignificant. There are just so many wonderful snippets in here. Her chapter on the "do not..." signs (made me think of the park keeper in the Moomin books); her batty elderly female relatives, the old guy running his little fruit and veg stall, Red the Rat Man, and her cousin who was so desperate to see the family chairs reunited.
These are more short articles about Bailey White's family, friends and life experiences. She's a primary school teacher living in Georgia in the USA. Although considering this book was published in 1995 - 20 years ago!! - she might be retired now. Who knows. I just love her writing. It's like chatting with an old and slightly eccentric family. And appreciating the little, simple things in life, whilst realising that just because they're simple, doesn't mean that they are insignificant. There are just so many wonderful snippets in here. Her chapter on the "do not..." signs (made me think of the park keeper in the Moomin books); her batty elderly female relatives, the old guy running his little fruit and veg stall, Red the Rat Man, and her cousin who was so desperate to see the family chairs reunited.
June 28, 2011
It doesn't get much better for southern writing, than Bailey White. I loved Mama Makes up her Mind, even bought a copy for my mother, and this one is just as good.
Both collections are just small sketches, tiny recollections, memoirs, of what it was like growing up in the shadows of the old south: losing the family home, the dying genteelism that the South has lost, disappearing into mainstream American culture.
It's sort of sad, really. With franchises and franchise-thinking mentality, everything having to follow S.O.P (standard operating proceedures), one town looking exactly like another, there's not as many socially diverse hamlets across American anymore, at least not like it was in the 1960's and 70's.
But some of it is uproarishly funny. "Family Values" and the fine art of having your ancient bear-claw tub, crash through the bathroom floor and end up in the dining room, is one example. Aunt Eleanor laments that new architecture has no mettle. Indeed.
Yet other chapters, like "Ashes" get us all to thinking of whom has passed in our own families, the great aunts and uncles, grandparents, and it's touching and poignant.
A wonderful summer read.
Both collections are just small sketches, tiny recollections, memoirs, of what it was like growing up in the shadows of the old south: losing the family home, the dying genteelism that the South has lost, disappearing into mainstream American culture.
It's sort of sad, really. With franchises and franchise-thinking mentality, everything having to follow S.O.P (standard operating proceedures), one town looking exactly like another, there's not as many socially diverse hamlets across American anymore, at least not like it was in the 1960's and 70's.
But some of it is uproarishly funny. "Family Values" and the fine art of having your ancient bear-claw tub, crash through the bathroom floor and end up in the dining room, is one example. Aunt Eleanor laments that new architecture has no mettle. Indeed.
Yet other chapters, like "Ashes" get us all to thinking of whom has passed in our own families, the great aunts and uncles, grandparents, and it's touching and poignant.
A wonderful summer read.
May 11, 2020
Sleeping at the Starlite Motel and Other Adventures on the Way Back Home by Bailey White (Vintage Books 1995) (818) is a new book by the pride of Thomasville, Georgia. I was introduced to Bailey White when I heard her read some of her work on the NPR station in Georgia where I lived at the time. Ms. White has a gravelly and strained voice that frankly led me to assume that she must be an old old Southern lady. Imagine my astonishment when I learned that she was a thirty-something schoolteacher in the public schools in the next county over! She writes with great affection and humor about sharing a house with her aging mother who has a wonderful perspective on life and living. This volume contains one of the laugh-out-loud funniest short stories I have ever read in my life; it's entitled "Computer School," but it's about a pink greyhound at the local dog track. Try it; I suspect you'll become a fan as well. My rating: 8/10, finished 1995.
March 2, 2016
My Original Notes: (1996)
Terrible! Not at all like Mama Makes Up Her Mind, with regard to humor or subject matter. Very dull and senseless. I read the entire book and didn't enjoy a single essay.
My Current Thoughts: (2016)
Why in the world did I bother reading the entire book, if I was so dissatisfied? As I recall, I really enjoyed Mama Makes Up Her Mind, so maybe I was trying to remain optimistic. This was probably back before I gave myself permission to quit a book I wasn't enjoying. Live and learn.
Terrible! Not at all like Mama Makes Up Her Mind, with regard to humor or subject matter. Very dull and senseless. I read the entire book and didn't enjoy a single essay.
My Current Thoughts: (2016)
Why in the world did I bother reading the entire book, if I was so dissatisfied? As I recall, I really enjoyed Mama Makes Up Her Mind, so maybe I was trying to remain optimistic. This was probably back before I gave myself permission to quit a book I wasn't enjoying. Live and learn.
December 18, 2017
These few dozen short stories showcase the author’s expertise at deftly, sveltely, briefly, sweetly capturing and encapsulating some delightful (and/or poignantly) eccentric Southern characters. With gentle humor she tells of people (Red the Rat Man, The Retired Russian Colonel, An Old Lepidopterist), places (Hot Springs, One Room Schoolhouse, The Starlight Motel), and other interesting tidbits of regional lore. A lovely, very sweet and certainly entertaining book.
June 10, 2022
I'll admit that this was a re-read, one of those pleasant palate-cleansing books I choose between heavier fare. Bailey White is a marvelous essayist. She uses her quirky surroundings and life to great advantage. The essay on computer school is one of the funniest I've ever read. I can almost picture Bailey and her co-teacher sneaking into their school at night to teach themselves to use technology and later winning a bet at the dog races. What a treat!
February 16, 2009
This collection of short stories about family and Southern characters. I enjoyed most of the stories especially Garden of Eden which brings us the theory that the Garden of Eden of the Bible is actually on the Florida panhandle. I also really enjoyed The Retired Russian Colonel. An easy, entertaining collection.
May 11, 2016
Visualize many unrelated stories that portray eccentric individuals. The location of these anecdotes take place largely all over the south (one in Vermont). Frankly, this was an almost book. Almost but not quite: funny, engaging, realistic, entertaining-you get my drift. I almost want to read another book by the same author.
December 29, 2009
Amusing stories of life in Georgia and some travel to other states. I enjoyed her first "Mama makes up her mind" more than this one, which wandered a biot from place to place and was a little more to do with imagination and less with rural Georgian life. Still a good read.
February 14, 2017
Bailey White is a painter with words. Her descriptions of people and places make them leap off the page. Her writings make you want to snuggle under a blanket on the couch and just keep reading--they make you feel warm and fuzzy.
January 8, 2009
No matter how unlikey the situation, Bailey White can make you laugh. And laugh out loud in public.
June 9, 2009
Some of these short stories were wonderful while others rather mediocre. White uses a folksy, Southern style that is sometimes charming and at other times overly parochial.
December 6, 2009
Some funny parts, but not nearly as hysterical as the first book (Mama makes up her mind)
August 29, 2017
For me, this was just one of those books that's enjoyable from beginning to end. Each of the stories left me either pensive or happy, often laughing out loud.
June 30, 2019
Though this collection of vignettes was published in 1995, it could have been written any time since 1950. Bailey White, humorist and Southerner, writes about the old-fashioned South, where ancient aunts live in crumbling houses, treasuring letters from Robert E. Lee’s wife. Her outlook is kind-hearted and tolerant of foibles, qualities one acquires when dealing with eccentrics.
Few of the pieces run more than 5 pages, and though her writing is primarily about the South, she also visits a one-room schoolhouse in Vermont. Mostly she’s writing not with nostalgia, but with open-eyed admiration, for how things used to be. She has an eye for absurdity, and it must be fun to live in her skin, with her opportunities to participate in it. For example:
“We were here in Virginia, Lilly and me and our old aunt Eleanor… because of eight Chippendale chairs. There had been twelve originally, made in 1750 for an ancestor of ours in Jamestown. Over the years four had been lost, and the rest had drifted around in the family and ended up in the possession of various scattered cousins. Mandon, our richest cousin, had made millions in the cable TV business and… had tracked us all down and organized this gathering of the chairs and their owners…. Mandon was a perfect host [but] his guests, in spite of the blood tie, were not congenial, and once begun, the conversation skewed off in odd directions.”
White’s all about skewing off in odd directions. Consider the subjects of her pieces: an old hippie who runs a fruit tree nursery in coastal Alabama; a retired Russian colonel who visits White’s first graders in Georgia; Mr. Grange, who operates a roadside produce stand and dreams of having visitors from Idaho; the woman who runs a fish camp in rural Florida; Nockerd Sockett, a restaurant co-worker who seems destined for greatness; an ancient folk artist whose works are being overtaken by decay and vines.
This anthology is a slice of life – a life we miss when we encounter the familiar parts. The stories are short and funny, and White’s light touch is droll and factual. Go spend some summer afternoons with her wandering her South.
Few of the pieces run more than 5 pages, and though her writing is primarily about the South, she also visits a one-room schoolhouse in Vermont. Mostly she’s writing not with nostalgia, but with open-eyed admiration, for how things used to be. She has an eye for absurdity, and it must be fun to live in her skin, with her opportunities to participate in it. For example:
“We were here in Virginia, Lilly and me and our old aunt Eleanor… because of eight Chippendale chairs. There had been twelve originally, made in 1750 for an ancestor of ours in Jamestown. Over the years four had been lost, and the rest had drifted around in the family and ended up in the possession of various scattered cousins. Mandon, our richest cousin, had made millions in the cable TV business and… had tracked us all down and organized this gathering of the chairs and their owners…. Mandon was a perfect host [but] his guests, in spite of the blood tie, were not congenial, and once begun, the conversation skewed off in odd directions.”
White’s all about skewing off in odd directions. Consider the subjects of her pieces: an old hippie who runs a fruit tree nursery in coastal Alabama; a retired Russian colonel who visits White’s first graders in Georgia; Mr. Grange, who operates a roadside produce stand and dreams of having visitors from Idaho; the woman who runs a fish camp in rural Florida; Nockerd Sockett, a restaurant co-worker who seems destined for greatness; an ancient folk artist whose works are being overtaken by decay and vines.
This anthology is a slice of life – a life we miss when we encounter the familiar parts. The stories are short and funny, and White’s light touch is droll and factual. Go spend some summer afternoons with her wandering her South.
June 9, 2020
This book had its charms, but wasn't really my style of reading. A collection of short stories, it told life through the eccentricities of people. White's actual style of writing is engaging and characterization is definitely a strong point of that writing.
As said before, this is a collection of short stories. They aren't really related to each other, but could almost be framed as all people the author knew or had encountered or heard stories about. Some of them could have true aspects, others seemed kind of fantastical, but all were relatively interesting.
The characters were the strong point just because they were so quirky. Sometimes they bordered on bizarre. While I enjoyed reading about them, I was upset at the abruptness of some of the stories and would have liked them to be a bit longer to really delve into the people instead of just snapshots. But again, this is not my preferred genre of story, so someone who likes those snippet of life type stories may have more appreciation for it.
Interesting, short read, and great characters, this is a comforting if odd type of read.
Review by M. Reynard 2020
As said before, this is a collection of short stories. They aren't really related to each other, but could almost be framed as all people the author knew or had encountered or heard stories about. Some of them could have true aspects, others seemed kind of fantastical, but all were relatively interesting.
The characters were the strong point just because they were so quirky. Sometimes they bordered on bizarre. While I enjoyed reading about them, I was upset at the abruptness of some of the stories and would have liked them to be a bit longer to really delve into the people instead of just snapshots. But again, this is not my preferred genre of story, so someone who likes those snippet of life type stories may have more appreciation for it.
Interesting, short read, and great characters, this is a comforting if odd type of read.
Review by M. Reynard 2020
September 30, 2017
The pieces in "Sleeping at the Starlite Motel: and Other Adventures on the Way Back Home" by Bailey White were easy enough to read, but I just couldn't get into them. She tells about things and characters in the South, and I don't mean "characters" in the sense of being fictional but of being unique, actually eccentric. Turns out these tales that read easily like fiction are essays of real places, people, and things. There was one essay story titled "Computer School" I really did enjoy. When two women teachers are selected by their principal to attend a class on computers, they go. The class is boring. So they come up with a plan that includes going to the track and watching dogs race during the rest of the scheduled classes. Eventually the teacher who is a pious Baptist decides to place a bet and the result is surprising and hilarious. I highly recommend this essay, but the book as a whole I can't.
August 16, 2022
Bailey White is a wonderful find. I carried this book throughout the last few months of this year and last year in my backpack so that I could pull it out whenever I found myself waiting in doctors' offices or sitting in our car while my beloved shopped. It was perfect for this kind of reading since I could get through one or two entries for each reading moment. She specializes in vignettes, short moments in time with very little emphasis on plot. Dickens' "Sketches by Boz" is similar. White seems to look for common moments that in themselves carry some powerful and often humorous emotional element. The Starlite Motel which is featured in the last reading stands more as a metaphor for nostalgic comfort and values. I now need to go back and get our copy of "Momma Makes up Her Mind." Not much on plot but a lot of textual environment.
July 17, 2025
My mom was getting rid of this, saying "it was good, but I won't read it again," and I found the back cover interesting, so I took it. Labeling this "short stories" is generous; White's writing comes in vignettes, often just four pages long. She writes with a clarity and precision that makes her news experience obvious. These moments are presented as thought-provoking or not, slices of everyday life or one-of-a-kind experiences, the mundane and the highly unusual so intermixed that they can't be separated. On the one hand, it feels like all the random blogs that turned into books in the aughts. On the other hand, this was published in the nineties, and White's writing is of a higher caliber.
I kept it at work and read one four-page vignette at a time when I needed a break. It was perfect. I didn't think any big thoughts, but I enjoyed myself.
I kept it at work and read one four-page vignette at a time when I needed a break. It was perfect. I didn't think any big thoughts, but I enjoyed myself.
January 19, 2026
Bailey White is a NPR commentator and has written several books. Sleeping at the Starlite Motel was written in 1995, 31 years ago! and is made up of 37 short stories she's chosen of living in the south, mainly her hometown in Thomasville, Georgia.
At each chapter, it was fun seeing the map of the area that story was based in. I thought there were a couple of places I've been to too, but I didn't mark both. One place I did go to is Cumberland Island in Georgia, seeing the wild ponies and the ruins of the Dungeness Mansion was very cool.
I found myself laughing out loud at times and I enjoyed basically all the stories. Surprisingly, the least liked story was the very last one and the name of the book, Sleeping at the Starlite Motel.
It was a very nice and pleasant book to read.
At each chapter, it was fun seeing the map of the area that story was based in. I thought there were a couple of places I've been to too, but I didn't mark both. One place I did go to is Cumberland Island in Georgia, seeing the wild ponies and the ruins of the Dungeness Mansion was very cool.
I found myself laughing out loud at times and I enjoyed basically all the stories. Surprisingly, the least liked story was the very last one and the name of the book, Sleeping at the Starlite Motel.
It was a very nice and pleasant book to read.
October 8, 2018
Author Bailey White is a participant on National Public Radio, which enables me to better understand this book. She captures the charming South manners and traditions in her stories of life and relatives in Georgia, but I found the tales flat. No knowing she performs on the radio, I believe they are more suited to an oral presentation, and would probably be more engaging if read aloud, with the inflections, pauses, and accent bringing them to life. I did not finish the book; it did not hold my interest.
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