Gone With the Wind

When I started this project, I think the book people were most surprised that I hadn't read was Gone With the Wind. I'd always meant to . . . but it is 1,000 pages after all. But what a great 1,000 pages! I've seen the movie a few times, although not recently, and the book was just as sweeping and epic as I'd expected. But it also had a feminist bent I didn't really anticipate. Scarlet, who starts out as a flighty southern belle concerned with nothing more than snagging her beloved Ashley turns into a rather capable businesswoman when faced with the harsh realities of post-war Georgia. She runs her husband's store, and when she is tipped off on how profitable sawmills are, acquires two of them and runs them to the shock of gentile Southern society.

The book starts off as an American version of Emma, with Scarlet concerned only with eligible bachelors and opportune matches, has this interesting feminist pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps middle, then ends as an American Wuthering Heights with Rhett and Scarlet as two stormy and somewhat despicable lovers. Of course, what those British classics don't have is the race issue. A recent Time Magazine article celebrating its 75th anniversary calls it "unforgivably racist." As I was reading the book, I wasn't convinced Margaret Mitchell shared the racist views of her characters, but rather was portraying a time and a place from history. But who knows . . . 1934 Atlanta wasn't exactly the capital of civil rights.

I was actually surprised at how many issues from the war and Reconstruction the book included--the poor conditions of the Confederate soldiers, the unabashed extortion of the Carpetbaggers, the not-much-better-than-slavery conditions for the newly freed blacks, and the disenfranchisement of Southern citizens. It was a meatier picture of the period than I expected. But the romance of the book is probably the most captivating aspect. Even though I knew the outcome and was shocked by the foibles of both Rhett and Scarlet, I couldn't help but hope they pulled it together in the end. But frankly, he still didn't give a damn.

Our Lady of the Forest

Our Lady of the Forest by David Guterson was quite a pleasant surprise! I loved Snow Falling on Cedars, but was hugely disappointed with his second novel, East of the Mountains. So much so I'm surprised I even picked up this book, but it was being sold at a bargain price at the Strand in NY, so I must have thought it worth the chance.

A teenage runaway who makes her living collecting mushrooms in the Pacific Northwest has a vision of the Virgin Mary in the woods. She tells a few people about it--an opportunistic fellow mushroom picker and the young priest of a struggling parish--and soon she has attracted hundreds if not thousands of followers. They descend on this small Washington town, setting up souvenir stands and selling snacks at outrageous prices. Some believe it is truly a miracle, while others are skeptical and think the girl's past drug use has something to do with her visions. The lives of the townspeople are woven into the story--the priest who wants to build a new church, the mother of a missing child, and a father who feels responsible for his son's debilitating accident. They all find hope in the Virgin's appearance, whether they truly believe in it or not.

This isn't the kind of subject matter I'm usually drawn to, but Guterson handles it well. We're never told definitively if the visions are real or false--it's left to the reader to decide. The mix of sincere belief and opportunistic swindling is an apt commentary on modern-day religion in America. It is often commercial and after the money of its followers, but occasionally people are sincere. Although not as sweeping as Snow Falling on Cedars, this was an engaging novel, and in the future I would happily pick up another of his books from a bookstore sale table.