Wednesday, October 05, 2011

The Help by Kathryn Stockett

I had to take a book with me on Route 66 and I chose to bring along Kathryn Stockett's The Help.  Did I read it at all while on the Mother Road?  Hellz no.  What with the average 5 hours of sleep per night and the thousand kilometres of driving a day, let's just say that sleep trumped all other basic needs.

So I read this in the comfort of my bed at home over the entire month of September, with some guilt.  See, September's Book Club was a non-fiction selection of our choosing, as long as it answered the question of "why is the world the way it is" in some fashion.  I totally cheated and read the Philosophy chapters in An Incomplete Education instead.  (it is how I got by at Queen's and it's still how I maintain a my thin veneer of sophistication).

The other major impetus for reading the books was the fact that I wanted to see the movie and I hate reading books after I see the flick.

Anyway!  The Help.  Spoilers abound below, so take heed.
Even though the cover boldly claims that The Help could be as important as To Kill a Mockingbird, I simply cannot agree.  Don't get me wrong - it's a wonderfully written piece of fiction that weaves some really scary history into the narrative and has some really memorable characters.  It is a very good read and I can absolutely see the appeal for making the movie.  Honestly though, I think it stops too short of the mark.  Hilly is a very dangerous character and I expected her to live up to that.  But by cutting her off at the knees, it almost makes the powerful southern white racists into comic relief.  Stockett does mention the Klan at least a few times and certainly imbues them with terror; however, much like the bogeymen in children's stories, they seem to lack teeth because they never show up in the actual story.

Would any of these maids been allowed to continue as they did were this tale true?  Would it have only been prison for stealing silver or spreading all that dirty laundry?  I doubt it very much.  And while we do have run-ins (a blinded boy, a murdered man) they seem to skirt the edges of the pages, keeping the central characters - and by extension us readers - safe from the bloodiest parts.

So, back to the Mockingbird claim: in my humble opinion, I think not.  Lawrence Hill's Book of Negroes deserves this accolade far more.  Stockett's novel is much more of a chick flick than class literature.  A great bedtime read if you're prone to nightmares.

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