Books and Cooks: The Secret Life of Bees

Swinging back to the South again for this month's selection.

WE'RE READING:

I'M SERVING: MACARONI AND CHEESE

Reading this book is like peeking into my past: South Carolina setting, family issues, search for self, African-American women. Sue Monk Kidd does a great job on place, for a Georgian. She's definitely driven down I-85 past Greer, SC, the home of the giant "butt on a stick" peach (that peach orchard bit, unfortunately, wasn't completely original), and she understands the heat and humidity like a native. We loved the characterization of Lily and her relationship with Rosaleen, primarily, but also with the "calendar girls" (August, June, and May Boatwright). The relationship she develops with Zach was handled beautifully and realistically for the time and place and curiosity of the two characters. The Church of Mary women had an engrossing way of viewing the world and its passages. And who wouldn't appreciate a wailing wall in their own backyard?

One issue I have with the book is the issue I'm having with lots of literary fiction--especially the "coming of age" type--set in the South. Does no young woman grow up with normal people around? Do they all have abusive fathers? Are they all poor and misunderstood, clinging to life in a sea of alcoholism? I mean, what happened to fathers like Atticus Finch? I didn't have an Atticus at home exactly, but Daddy was firmly in the Atticus camp and had nothing but disgust for men like T. Ray Owens.

I'm beginning to develop--not disgust, actually, more like disdain--for either writers or publishers who perpetuate the lie that Southern people are backward racist idiots. I know some backward folks, I know some racists, and Lord knows I've run across plenty of idiots (many of them transplants), but they are hugely outnumbered by decent, intelligent people. Sure, we Southerners have our issues, but let's face it: we have bragging rights. The South produced Faulkner, Williams, Welty, Twain, Conroy, O'Connor, Walker, Wolfe, and To Kill a Mockingbird. There's not a literary tradition anywhere in the US that can touch it.