The American South: The Fiction

Looking over the books I have read this year, a few trends pop out at me: I have read a tremendous amount of non-fiction, especially biographies, this year. I have read a half-dozen books set in Europe between the 1920s and the 1940s. And I have read quite a few books focused on the life and times of the American South. As a region, it captures the imagination perhaps better than any other, no doubt thanks in large part to one of my all-time favorite books, Gone with the Wind. Yes, I’m blaming Scarlett. Before I get to the real South, though, the one covered in non-fiction books, I’m going to indulge in Southern-set fiction, starting with the biggest bit of mind candy I enjoyed all year: Rhett Butler’s People.

I was unfamiliar with Rhett Butler’s People until my mother presented me a copy for my reading enjoyment. Enjoy it, I did. Donald McCaig beautifully depicts Civil War-era Charleston; having been there twice recently, part of the fun for me was imagining these places, many of which still exist, in the setting he creates. He also deftly incorporates most of the iconic scenes from Gone with the Wind, while building a backstory for Rhett and presenting a future beyond, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” All of the familiar characters make appearances and, except Scarlett, become more sympathetic, while a host of new faces also appear. In addition to lively sketches of ante-bellum and Civil War Charleston, McCaig sets an important handful of scenes in New Orleans, the bustle of a still-half-French city springing forth from the pages. This is mind candy; the writing is clean and fine, but the most redeeming feature of this book is that it allows those of us who loved Scarlett the first time to indulge in her antics anew, without rereading the same dog-eared pages we’ve already learned by heart.

Before I fast forward 100 years from Scarlett and Company and travel west to Jackson, Mississippi, to arrive at the The Help, I should mention briefly my third foray into the world of Scarlett O’Hara. Against the advice of Elizabeth, to whom I owe this whole project, I read The Wind Done Gone. I will say nothing more of it here, other than to reiterate that it was against her advice, and to note that had it been any longer, it undoubtedly would have made the ignoble Did Not Finish list.

And now, The Help. I loved virtually everything about this book, but it is the characters that truly made it for me. The Help is peopled with examples of the worst of us bipeds: aloof socialites, poor parents, cruel dates, and manipulative friends and family. Regularly I thought, “oh, but I know that person…” Cheering as each received their comeuppance may be in poor taste (no, of course not), but who couldn’t smile at the thought of Hilly returning home to find her lawn sprouting toilets of every hue? Or abed as the deed of “the terrible awful” is immortalized in black and white? Yes, there were (and are) people like Hilly, and they have created more than their share of trouble in this country, but there are also plenty of Skeeters and Aibileens, so it is only just that when one turns the last page of the book, each of these ladies has found a way forward while Hilly is stuck in neutral.