OMNIVOROUS READER

Anybody who delights in being an attic archaeologist and parting the curtains of cobwebs in dim, dank corners to excavate layers of dust and forgotten family history will find much to like in Cipher: Decoding My Ancestor’s Scandalous Secret Diaries.

Jeremy B. Jones, an associate English professor at Western Carolina University, was digging around in boxes at his grandmother’s house one day when he came across a newspaper clipping that proved to be a golden ticket taking him back in time to the 19th century and the fascinating life of an ordinary man.

That man was William Thomas Prestwood, Jones’ great-great-great-great-grandfather, who had traveled many of the same lands and roads Jones has. Learning the details of his kinsman six generations removed was anything but typical family lore handed down from one generation to the next. Prestwood, as the newspaper clipping from 1979 revealed, had been a prolific diarist, but not the kind of journal keeper who seemed intent on preserving his life story beyond his death 166 years ago.

The details of the daily life of this militia man, Appalachian farmer, teacher, philosopher and prolific philanderer might have been lost to the annals of time had a man not salvaged a stash of Prestwood’s hand-sewn journals from a Wadesboro house scheduled for demolition in 1975. Those notebooks weren’t filled with the elegant and elaborate penmanship of the 19th century. They were written in code, a series of shapes, numbers and symbols that added an element of intrigue that eventually landed them on the desk of a state archivist.

Unable to solve the mystery of what the journals’ author had written, the archivist copied a few pages and sent them off to a National Security Agency cryptanalyst who had retired in the Appalachian Mountains. The expert in encryption and decryption quickly cracked the code, eventually transcribing the journals’ pages, revealing the many brief but telling details of an Everyman’s life in the Carolinas.

Prestwood wrote about collecting turkey eggs, hunting for a horse on the loose, farming, visiting neighbors, drinking rum, eating watermelon, playing music, strife with his father, the births of his children, deaths in the family, dreams, and his many sexual conquests and unrequited longings worthy of Tom Jones. He gives a glimpse of a public hanging and even the eclipse of 1821 — not with the flourish of a wordsmith but in the short sentences or fragments of an ordinary person.

“In 1859, a forgettable man died,” Jones writes in the opening sentence of Cipher’s first chapter. “He left behind bedclothes, a spyglass, cooking pots and an umbrella. He left history books and algebra books and mineralogy books and Greek grammar books and astrology books.” He lists the daughters and sons who preceded Prestwood in death and the debt he left behind, a sum that his “landholdings and scattershot of personal property — sold for a total of $11.94” didn’t cover. Prestwood, Jones writes, “entered the ground penniless.”

The journals he left behind, the treasure trove that Jones learned about from the yellowed 1979 newspaper article in The Asheville Citizen-Times — have proven to be priceless, though. They give a glimpse, as the codebreaker wrote, “of the very essence of Everyman’s life from the cradle to the grave.”

Jones toggles between Prestwood’s life and his own, turning to archives, property records and other historical accounts to help flesh out his ancestor’s story. Occasionally, he fills in gaps with his own imagination and hypotheticals to further a narrative that includes slave ownership and womanizing.

Jones struggled with whether he should lay bare the details of a long-dead man’s thoughts and his comings and goings. After all, those specifics were cloaked in a code cracked more than a century after the last journal entry.

“He’d blanketed his shin-skinning and corn-planting and woman-laying in code for a reason, and what right did I have to come along two hundred years later and run my fingers along the edges of his life in a library in the middle of the state?” Jones asked himself while viewing the diaries in a special library collection in Raleigh. “Was I shrinking his life by bringing it out into the open, making him smaller than he ever was, less of a man?”

In Cipher, Jones not only has brought Prestwood to life again — scandalous warts and all — he has created a memoir of sorts, a depiction of his own everyday life exploring today’s connection to this country’s complicated past. Jones has given us yet another chapter in Everyman history, an interesting read for anyone who likes to look at what America once was and has become.