On not giving a damn

Yes, I know that it’s racist and retrograde, but GoneWith the Wind will always remain one of my favorite books (and movies). Margaret Mitchell was a superb storyteller (not a storyshower), and anyone who cracks her book open will soon forget that it’s over a thousand pages long.

Even if you have not experienced GWTW in any form, you certainly know this line:

!!!SPOILER ALERT!!!

This is Rhett Butler’s final line to Scarlett O’Hara as he walks away from her – for good (unless you read the sequel). Rhett has finally gotten tired of Scarlett’s pining for another man – just as Scarlett realizes that she never really loved that man at all, and is ready to be a true wife and partner to Rhett.

Whether or not Scarlett deserved that line is a question for another day. But you know some people in your life who do deserve it.

So do I.

I would rather not give a damn about my enemies than hate them. Or trying to get them back into my life. Or forgiving them.

When you don’t give a damn about your enemies, it’s a sign that you are in control over your head.

It means you care more about you, and those you love, than the people who are not on your side.

It means freedom.

What’s not to like about that?

 

Read, reread, and think

Photo credit: Microsoft Clip Art

(I was glad to find this old essay, just because it reminded me of books that deserve my rereading.)

Wherever I go to work, do errands, or travel, I always bring a book along. When I am reading, I am never lonely, for throughout my life books have been my truest friends. No matter what time of day it is, no matter where my mind is at, books are at my side, never judging, always helpful - even if to take me away from my problems for a little while.

The words that came from people’s mouths were not always good to me. From them, I learned fallacy: I was ugly. I was stupid. I danced like a rhinoceros. I would never have the joys of marriage. I didn’t deserve the good things in life.

The words of people were untrustworthy. They lied to me. But the words of books speak the truth, even when the label on the outside is “fiction.” It is true that lessons taught from experience remain with you in a way that lectures never can. It is also true that a book can be an experience. It will be impossible for me to list all the lessons I have learned from books in this tiny patch of time. But these four are standouts:

From Margaret Mitchell’s Gone with the Wind, I learned that a compatibility of souls, not a temporary physical attraction, is the basis of love that lasts, and that you may not get a second chance no matter how sorry you are – so take care in what you say and do to others.

From Elithe Hamilton Kirkland’s Love is a Wild Assault, I learned that a woman’s choice of husband is perhaps the most important choice she will make in her life - and that making a good choice is far, far more difficult than any advice can convey.

From Oriana Fallaci’s The Rage and the Pride, I learned that all cultures are not created equal – that it is perfectly okay, in fact vital, for free societies to denounce and fight back against fundamentalism of any stripe.

From Don Miguel Ruiz’s The Four Agreements, I learned that “whatever you think, whatever you feel, I know is your problem and not my problem. It is the way you see the world. It is nothing personal, because you are dealing with yourself, and not with me.” I only wish I could have read these words when I was thirteen.

Now it is time for me to write a story which will be water to a parched soul.

One More Book Recommendation -- Gone with the Wind

This is my final book recommendation before this year's NABAACD on May 31. I would be most remiss if I did not mention this book. It's a big book, a big good book. It won the Pulitzer Prize. It was the basis of a movie that won ten Oscars. It has been a reliable best-seller for over seven decades -- it's now #5,653 in Amazon's bestseller list (and for Amazon, that number is up there).

It's Margaret Mitchell's Gone with the Wind, and if you choose this book for sharing a coffee with on Sunday, you've done well indeed. But watch out. If you finish Chapter I, you will have to read Chapter II. And so on, and so on, until a barista taps you on the shoulder and tells you that the coffee shop is closing. (If you finish GWTW by the time you finish your coffee, you're a naughty reader because you just skimmed the book. Some books take skimming as a high insult.) GWTW is like the movie Titanic -- it's long, but it's so compelling that you don't care that it's over 1000 pages.

What makes GWTW a great book is not only the sheer storytelling, it's the highly dramatic historical setting -- a time when this nation was, if not literally torn in half, at least psychically and spiritually so -- and it's the characters. Margaret Mitchell knew that if a reader can't care about the characters, nothing else in the story matters. A rip-roaring plot with characters as flat as tortillas is as fulfilling and memorable as a roller-coaster ride at Six Flags.

Scarlett O'Hara is more than a spoiled Southern belle. Rhett Butler is more than a charming rogue. Ashley Wilkes is more than a golden-haired hero on horseback. And Melanie Hamilton Wilkes is more than a sweet timid mousewife. Each of them is as layered as a Russian nesting doll.

Scarlett is not a role model. She is often shortsighted and thoughtless, she is neither a loyal friend nor a sensitive mother, and she is tone-deaf when it comes to her dealings with men. But she is also capable of kindness and loyalty, of guilt that she is not living up to her mother's loftly ideal, and of heartbreaking unrequited love for Ashley. It is the last most of all which keeps her from being a total B-I-T-C-H. Who among us hasn't pined for the unattainable person? Who hasn't agonized that the one you love loves someone else more?

I do have to write about GWTW's greatest flaw, though, so it doesn't shock you. While Mitchell was psychologically astute when it came to the major white characters, her depiction of black characters is not just politically incorrect -- it's just plain incorrect, period.

The black characters are compared to children and apes and bloodhounds with "unerring African instinct." The "good" ones live for serving their white masters, and the "bad" ones are ungrateful for the care their masters have given them. Both Scarlett and Rhett utter the word "nigger,"* and Melanie would rather abandon her beloved South than have her son go to school with "pickaninnies." (Of the four major characters, only Ashley says nothing that is racist.) Did I mention that the Ku Klux Klan are the heroes in this book?

But still...but still...I forgive GWTW this flaw, a flaw which would have made me stand up and scream if this had been a lesser book. That's how great it is. Even black female readers forgive the book. We all live in the twenty-first century; we know that racism is sheer foolishness. Don't feel guilty for reading and enjoying GWTW.

I am not sure where I'll be going or what I will be reading for NABAACD. I am sure that I will let you know what happened. Have a happy NABAACD, everyone!

* I debated with myself today whether to spell out this word or use the euphemism "N-word." I chose to spell it out because I am a writer and words are my tools -- all words, the grand and the base and the lovely and the ugly. Euphemisms for vulgarity fool no one and treat the readers like infants.