Book-It 'o11! Book #33
Sep. 1st, 2011 08:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alivemagdoleneThe Fifty Books Challenge, year three! (Years one and two, just in case you're curious.) This was a lend via a family member.
Title: The Help by Kathryn Stockett
Details: Copyright 2009, Penguin Books
Synopsis (By Way of Front and Back Flaps): "Three ordinary women are about to take one extraordinary step...
Twenty-two-year-old Skeeter has just returned home after graduating from Ole Miss. She may have a degree, but it is 1962, Mississippi, and her mother will not be happy till Skeeter has a ring on her finger. Skeeter would normally find solace with her beloved maid Constantine, the woman who raised her, but Constantine has disappeared and no one will tell Skeeter where she has gone.
Aibileen is a black maid, a wise, regal woman raising her seventeenth white child. Something has shifted inside her after the loss of her own son, who died while his bosses looked the other way. She is devoted to the little girl she looks after, though she knows both their hearts may be broken.
Minny, Aibileen's best friend, is short, fat, and perhaps the sassiest woman in Mississippi. She can cook like nobody's business, but she can't mind her tongue, so she's lost yet another job. Minny finally finds a position working for someone too new to town to know her reputation. But her new boss has secrets of her own.
Seemingly as different from one another as can be, these women will nonetheless come together for a clandestine project that will put them all at risk. And why? Because they are suffocating within the lines that define their town and their times. And sometimes lines are made to be crossed.
In pitch-perfect voices, Kathryn Stockett creates three extraordinary women whose determination to start a movement of their own forever changes a town, and the way women-mothers, daughters, caregivers, friends-view one another. A deeply moving novel filled with poignancy, humor, and hope, The Help is a timeless and universal story about the lines we abide by, and the ones we don't."
Why I Wanted to Read It: This book is a bestseller and is currently the basis for a successful film. It's generated a lot of conversation based on the author's race and right to tell this story.
I was extremely hesitant to read this book when it was recommended to me since I hated what sounded like a stock premise full of stock characters (the mammy/mother-substitute maid and the super sassy maid helping the promising young white character achieve her dreams on the backs of their hard work) and racist conventions and stereotypes, both overt and subtle. However, I was basing this on what I'd seen regarding the film (which I still haven't seen) and I know too painfully well that a book and a film are very frequently very different animals. The book could conceivably be pulled off, albeit with a delicate balance, whereas I just didn't (and don't) see that happening with the film, something that's been strained through various test-audiences and no doubt dumbed down, watered down, and oversimplified.
So I decided I'd give the book a shot.
How I Liked It: I feel like this book should be reviewed for three separate things, as that's what stood out for me and what I was looking for.
The racial politics behind (and the story of) the book was obviously at the forefront of my consciousness. Were the characters going to transcend stereotypes? Were they going to rise above a problematic premise?
Secondly, I was looking at the historical/cultural accuracy. This is a book written by someone who did not actually experience the time-period in which she is writing (the author was born in 1969). Are her references, cultural attitudes, and other minutia going to check out?
Lastly and most importantly, the book itself. Is it a good read? Is it engaging? Do the characters last? This of course ties in with the other two categories on what I was focused on while reading this book.
The book is narrated in three voices, Aibileen, a placid maid in her fifties raising (as the front flap says) her seventeenth white child, who happens to be the child of one of the other protagonists' best friends, while coping with the untimely death of her only child in his early twenties; Minny, a quick-tempered, barb-tonged maid in her thirties with an abusive alcoholic husband, a houseful of kids, and a flair for the culinary that's apparently her saving grace as a domestic worker (after being threatened with blackmail by a potential white employer, she invites the woman to "Eat my shit."); and Skeeter (real name Eugenia), an aspiring writer fresh out of college from a decently-wealthy family of cotton-farmers (she describes her mother's philosophy: "Mrs. Charlotte Phelan's Guide to Husband-Hunting, Rule Number One: a pretty, petite girl should accentuate with makeup and good posture. A tall plain one, with a trust fund. I was five-foot-eleven but I had twenty-five thousand cotton dollars in my name and if the beauty wasn't apparent then, by God, he wasn't smart enough to be in the family anyway." pg 57) who devotes her time between sparring with her mother over her lacking of both a man and an interest in her appearance and dutifully attending various society luncheons and other such frippery put on by her equally well-to-do friends.
Much has been made of the fact the black narrators (as written by a white author) speak in thick Southern tones. However, it's not so much a matter of minstrel show so much as a sense of accuracy of the social lines the author describes (one young black woman purposely disarms Skeeter by speaking "evenly and with care like a white person" while she barrages her with insults), particularly given the fact that these are black women in the deep South in the early 1960s.
The story itself moves along decently, with the author displaying a particular gift for evocative setting. The majority (but I stress not all) of the characters are more than stereotypes and go on to display unexpected frailties and strengths as the plot unfolds. The author has an at times annoying habit of flipping the narration (to a character with an unrelated storyline) at a crucial, tense plot point which can come off as not so much highlighting a suspenseful moment as planting neon arrows around it.
Some historical snags (which I'll go into) trip up the storytelling, particularly towards the end. The end of the novel is problematic for a number of reasons, as it is here the story starts to feel rushed and the author really starts relying on lazy tactics to carry her through which often lead to an extremely trite result. We don't get what I feel is a proper ending on several of the storylines and characters, but it's perhaps the fact that we feel so invested in the novel that we the readers actually notice and care.
This book has a lot riding against it: a stereotypical narrative (from a number of angles) along with the fact the leading white character sounds at times too much like a Mary-Sue for the author (Stockett's author's bio describes her as being, to no one's surprise, from Jackson, Mississippi, but having moved to New York City to work in publishing, Skeeter's repeated life's dream throughout the book).
However, the overall quality of the book and the story of a past too recent and too ugly to be forgotten, is redeeming. If the popularity of this book urges education about how far we've come and how far we've still got to go, and encourages an ear for stories from those forgotten and wrongfully misplaced by history, then maybe it's worth enduring a potentially mishandled movie that (potentially) gets it wrong.
Notable: Ah, historical errors, the bane of my existence, no matter how minute they might be.
Under the Acknowledgements section, the author offers the following
While the Bob Dylan song is too hard to extricate (although the sequence is rather treacly) as it factors into the plot, the Shake 'n Bake line is random and unnecessary. But greater trip-ups occur that jar the reader out of the time period.
What one has to remember is that while the author did grow up in the South and (as she describes in a short section after the Acknowledgements titled "Too Little, Too Late") shared a strong relationship with her family's black maid, she is not describing a time period she witnessed. Unlike Stuck Rubber Baby, these turbulent times are not from her personal recollection. The author, like I said, was born in 1969. However, it's in some ways only natural that she'd make some historical errors as she no doubt feels herself so connected to the story in other factions such as the time itself (particularly the details) don't seem as important to iron out. They range from almost typographical (the Shake 'n Bake) to cringe-inducingly large. A few:
· The Jackson Junior League, a prestigious club to which Skeeter and her white friends belong, prides itself on raising money for "The Poor Starving Children of Africa" or "PSCA". Africa as a continent did not become a mainstay (let alone in the deep South) for humanitarian aid until the 1980s. A country within Africa such as Ethiopia might be a more likely choice, as would India, particularly given the mindset embraced that "those people can't look out for themselves".
· In late spring of 1963, Skeeter "walk[s] into the house early, humming "Love Me Do", thinking that I ought to go buy a short skirt like Jenny Fousshee wore today." (pg 177)
The problem? "Love Me Do" wasn't released wasn't released in the United States until April 24th, 1964.
· In early summer of 1963, Aibileen observes her two-year-old charge playing with a Barbie Doll. Barbie Dolls were not traditionally given to toddlers until well into the 1970s at the earliest. Barbie Doll was marketed as a fashion doll for older girls (generally seven years of age and up) in the doll's early years on the market.
· Proposing a double-date in April 1963, Skeeter's friend professes a desire to see It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, which wasn't released until November 7th, 1963.
· In summer 1964, Aibileen notices a young woman who "looks like one a them hippies I seen on Miss Lefolt's tee-vee." (pg 393)
According to most cultural critics and many prominent figures of the era (particularly Ed Saunders), the term "hippie" really didn't enter the public terminology (particularly mass-marketed television) until after 1967, specifically the publicity generated by the "Human Be-In" in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park. "Beatnik" would be a more appropriate term, although it would still be fairly hip for the setting and the character.
Title: The Help by Kathryn Stockett
Details: Copyright 2009, Penguin Books
Synopsis (By Way of Front and Back Flaps): "Three ordinary women are about to take one extraordinary step...
Twenty-two-year-old Skeeter has just returned home after graduating from Ole Miss. She may have a degree, but it is 1962, Mississippi, and her mother will not be happy till Skeeter has a ring on her finger. Skeeter would normally find solace with her beloved maid Constantine, the woman who raised her, but Constantine has disappeared and no one will tell Skeeter where she has gone.
Aibileen is a black maid, a wise, regal woman raising her seventeenth white child. Something has shifted inside her after the loss of her own son, who died while his bosses looked the other way. She is devoted to the little girl she looks after, though she knows both their hearts may be broken.
Minny, Aibileen's best friend, is short, fat, and perhaps the sassiest woman in Mississippi. She can cook like nobody's business, but she can't mind her tongue, so she's lost yet another job. Minny finally finds a position working for someone too new to town to know her reputation. But her new boss has secrets of her own.
Seemingly as different from one another as can be, these women will nonetheless come together for a clandestine project that will put them all at risk. And why? Because they are suffocating within the lines that define their town and their times. And sometimes lines are made to be crossed.
In pitch-perfect voices, Kathryn Stockett creates three extraordinary women whose determination to start a movement of their own forever changes a town, and the way women-mothers, daughters, caregivers, friends-view one another. A deeply moving novel filled with poignancy, humor, and hope, The Help is a timeless and universal story about the lines we abide by, and the ones we don't."
Why I Wanted to Read It: This book is a bestseller and is currently the basis for a successful film. It's generated a lot of conversation based on the author's race and right to tell this story.
I was extremely hesitant to read this book when it was recommended to me since I hated what sounded like a stock premise full of stock characters (the mammy/mother-substitute maid and the super sassy maid helping the promising young white character achieve her dreams on the backs of their hard work) and racist conventions and stereotypes, both overt and subtle. However, I was basing this on what I'd seen regarding the film (which I still haven't seen) and I know too painfully well that a book and a film are very frequently very different animals. The book could conceivably be pulled off, albeit with a delicate balance, whereas I just didn't (and don't) see that happening with the film, something that's been strained through various test-audiences and no doubt dumbed down, watered down, and oversimplified.
So I decided I'd give the book a shot.
How I Liked It: I feel like this book should be reviewed for three separate things, as that's what stood out for me and what I was looking for.
The racial politics behind (and the story of) the book was obviously at the forefront of my consciousness. Were the characters going to transcend stereotypes? Were they going to rise above a problematic premise?
Secondly, I was looking at the historical/cultural accuracy. This is a book written by someone who did not actually experience the time-period in which she is writing (the author was born in 1969). Are her references, cultural attitudes, and other minutia going to check out?
Lastly and most importantly, the book itself. Is it a good read? Is it engaging? Do the characters last? This of course ties in with the other two categories on what I was focused on while reading this book.
The book is narrated in three voices, Aibileen, a placid maid in her fifties raising (as the front flap says) her seventeenth white child, who happens to be the child of one of the other protagonists' best friends, while coping with the untimely death of her only child in his early twenties; Minny, a quick-tempered, barb-tonged maid in her thirties with an abusive alcoholic husband, a houseful of kids, and a flair for the culinary that's apparently her saving grace as a domestic worker (after being threatened with blackmail by a potential white employer, she invites the woman to "Eat my shit."); and Skeeter (real name Eugenia), an aspiring writer fresh out of college from a decently-wealthy family of cotton-farmers (she describes her mother's philosophy: "Mrs. Charlotte Phelan's Guide to Husband-Hunting, Rule Number One: a pretty, petite girl should accentuate with makeup and good posture. A tall plain one, with a trust fund. I was five-foot-eleven but I had twenty-five thousand cotton dollars in my name and if the beauty wasn't apparent then, by God, he wasn't smart enough to be in the family anyway." pg 57) who devotes her time between sparring with her mother over her lacking of both a man and an interest in her appearance and dutifully attending various society luncheons and other such frippery put on by her equally well-to-do friends.
Much has been made of the fact the black narrators (as written by a white author) speak in thick Southern tones. However, it's not so much a matter of minstrel show so much as a sense of accuracy of the social lines the author describes (one young black woman purposely disarms Skeeter by speaking "evenly and with care like a white person" while she barrages her with insults), particularly given the fact that these are black women in the deep South in the early 1960s.
The story itself moves along decently, with the author displaying a particular gift for evocative setting. The majority (but I stress not all) of the characters are more than stereotypes and go on to display unexpected frailties and strengths as the plot unfolds. The author has an at times annoying habit of flipping the narration (to a character with an unrelated storyline) at a crucial, tense plot point which can come off as not so much highlighting a suspenseful moment as planting neon arrows around it.
Some historical snags (which I'll go into) trip up the storytelling, particularly towards the end. The end of the novel is problematic for a number of reasons, as it is here the story starts to feel rushed and the author really starts relying on lazy tactics to carry her through which often lead to an extremely trite result. We don't get what I feel is a proper ending on several of the storylines and characters, but it's perhaps the fact that we feel so invested in the novel that we the readers actually notice and care.
This book has a lot riding against it: a stereotypical narrative (from a number of angles) along with the fact the leading white character sounds at times too much like a Mary-Sue for the author (Stockett's author's bio describes her as being, to no one's surprise, from Jackson, Mississippi, but having moved to New York City to work in publishing, Skeeter's repeated life's dream throughout the book).
However, the overall quality of the book and the story of a past too recent and too ugly to be forgotten, is redeeming. If the popularity of this book urges education about how far we've come and how far we've still got to go, and encourages an ear for stories from those forgotten and wrongfully misplaced by history, then maybe it's worth enduring a potentially mishandled movie that (potentially) gets it wrong.
Notable: Ah, historical errors, the bane of my existence, no matter how minute they might be.
Under the Acknowledgements section, the author offers the following
“Thank you to everyone at Putnam for their enthusiasm and hard work. I took liberties with time, using the song "The Times They Are A-Changin'," even though it was not released until 1964, and Shake 'n Bake, which did not hit the shelves until 1965. The Jim Crow laws that appear in the book were abbreviated and taken from actual legislation that existed, at various times, across the South. Many thanks to Dorian Hastings and Elizabeth Wagner, the incredibly detailed copy editors, for pointing out these, my stubborn discrepancies, and helping me repair many others.”(pg 445)
While the Bob Dylan song is too hard to extricate (although the sequence is rather treacly) as it factors into the plot, the Shake 'n Bake line is random and unnecessary. But greater trip-ups occur that jar the reader out of the time period.
What one has to remember is that while the author did grow up in the South and (as she describes in a short section after the Acknowledgements titled "Too Little, Too Late") shared a strong relationship with her family's black maid, she is not describing a time period she witnessed. Unlike Stuck Rubber Baby, these turbulent times are not from her personal recollection. The author, like I said, was born in 1969. However, it's in some ways only natural that she'd make some historical errors as she no doubt feels herself so connected to the story in other factions such as the time itself (particularly the details) don't seem as important to iron out. They range from almost typographical (the Shake 'n Bake) to cringe-inducingly large. A few:
· The Jackson Junior League, a prestigious club to which Skeeter and her white friends belong, prides itself on raising money for "The Poor Starving Children of Africa" or "PSCA". Africa as a continent did not become a mainstay (let alone in the deep South) for humanitarian aid until the 1980s. A country within Africa such as Ethiopia might be a more likely choice, as would India, particularly given the mindset embraced that "those people can't look out for themselves".
· In late spring of 1963, Skeeter "walk[s] into the house early, humming "Love Me Do", thinking that I ought to go buy a short skirt like Jenny Fousshee wore today." (pg 177)
The problem? "Love Me Do" wasn't released wasn't released in the United States until April 24th, 1964.
· In early summer of 1963, Aibileen observes her two-year-old charge playing with a Barbie Doll. Barbie Dolls were not traditionally given to toddlers until well into the 1970s at the earliest. Barbie Doll was marketed as a fashion doll for older girls (generally seven years of age and up) in the doll's early years on the market.
· Proposing a double-date in April 1963, Skeeter's friend professes a desire to see It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, which wasn't released until November 7th, 1963.
· In summer 1964, Aibileen notices a young woman who "looks like one a them hippies I seen on Miss Lefolt's tee-vee." (pg 393)
According to most cultural critics and many prominent figures of the era (particularly Ed Saunders), the term "hippie" really didn't enter the public terminology (particularly mass-marketed television) until after 1967, specifically the publicity generated by the "Human Be-In" in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park. "Beatnik" would be a more appropriate term, although it would still be fairly hip for the setting and the character.
