Jim Probst’s house and adjacent furniture shop are in Hamlin, a town in Lincoln County, West Virginia. Hamlin is populated mostly by trees clustered along soft, low-lying hills. The main road at some point tapers into two narrow strips of gravel, arced by the high boughs of trees. (When giving me directions to his house, Probst cautions, “You will think you have come to the ends of the Earth.”) When I first arrive at his place, Probst is waiting for me outside, wearing bronze-rimmed glasses, jeans, and a loose-shirt with a pen clipped to the pocket—a permanent fixture, along with a notebook to jot down any stray thoughts…
