Rest Area

A failing grade in English and a perceptive teacher's suggestion that he try to redeem himself by writing a play led to his first literary effort—at age 12. Today, the 24-year old Chapman spins tales that piece that heart and unsettle the mind. He speaks in the voice of the New South—haunted by the past, often uncomfortable in the present, and distinctively, even disturbingly all its own.

Still writing plays and also performing his original monologues around the country an abroad, the young Virginian breathes life into a cast of unforgettable eccentrics. Some are endearing, others are unnerving, but all are credible and, despite their foibles, strangely sympathetic. Consider, for example, the clueless father who's apparently "lost" his young daughter at a highway rest stop, the lonely old woman who romances a rabid fox with tales of her past, and the ventriloquist who muses with his dummy about their faltering relationship. Rest Area—a weirdly wonderful place to linger and absorb a slice of southern life that combines pathos, mordant wit, suspense, and a touching regard for humankind at its quirkiest.