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I just finished this book. While I enjoyed it and read it quickly because it was so entertaining, I wasn't blown away by it. (Sometimes that happens when a book is over-hyped) I thought it was a little "black and white" (no pun intended). Most if not all of the African American characters were good at heart, well-intentioned and of sound character. Even Leroy, the wife-beater, was protrayed sympathetically at points. Most of the white people with the exception of the protagonist, Skeeter, were shallow, self-centered and narrow minded if not down-right cruel.
While I understand that the contrast was inherent in the story, I think some of the characters - black and white - would have benefited from having more depth and not being so one-dimensional.
I just finished this book. While I enjoyed it and read it quickly because it was so entertaining, I wasn't blown away by it. (Sometimes that happens when a book is over-hyped) I thought it was a little "black and white" (no pun intended). Most if not all of the African American characters were good at heart, well-intentioned and of sound character. Even Leroy, the wife-beater, was protrayed sympathetically at points. Most of the white people with the exception of the protagonist, Skeeter, were shallow, self-centered and narrow minded if not down-right cruel.
While I understand that the contrast was inherent in the story, I think some of the characters - black and white - would have benefited from having more depth and not being so one-dimensional.
I am about 60% through it and I am enjoying it immensely. The pacing is good and the intrigue and the insights into "the line" which I think is quite legitimate are fascinating. I moved south in the 70s and though things were changed, remmnants of "the line" were still apparent.
Having said that, I agree with you pinetreelover--characters are a bit of a caricature. Maybe that is not a problem as they represent "types" and define the situation. I do believe that the basic theme was inherent in the culture at that time.
But not all black maids were clean, hard-working, kindly, good mothers, and honest as the day is long while all white women were coy, lazy, sloppy, and devoid of love for their children or lacking in concern for the people they employed with the exception of one woman who was therefore ostracized. At least I don't think that could be the case because human nature just isn't that compartmentalized.
I just received this in the mail... our new (very small) local bookgroup will read this and discuss in July - it seems most people either loved or hated it... I'll come back to this thread after I have read the book.
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It's always fun, for me, to re-visit a thread as others make comments, and especially in the Book Forum, when others follow recommendations (or for whatever reasons) and pick up a suggested title.
As much as I read, I am surprised I did not consider Stockett's characters 'stereotypes,' but I can see how they are in many ways, stereotypes. Sometimes, like the English teacher back in the HS classroom, I have to consider which of the elements of a work is the dominant one, and for Stockett's The Help, I really think the novel is less a study in character(s) and more plot-driven.
As for a sequel, that might be a lot of fun, but I'm not sure where she could go with the character(s) or the storyline. The budding journalist, writing at the time she is, might propel a story but it would certainly be driven by a different line altogether, unless Stockett moved her back to Jackson at the end of a career elsewhere. It might make for an interesting reflection of sorts. I also think it might be neat to see the views of perhaps the children 'raised' by these Black women. I always loved how the help referred to the children as 'hers' in a sense, and the pride these Black women took in the children of the white families for whom they worked. It's a given that many children grew up having better values modeled for them by their Black help than from some of their own mothers and family.
Mississippi has changed so much. I came her in the early seventies and desegregation was in its infancy. There was still "an attitude" that could be perceived by someone like myself coming from the North. To see it now is unbelieveable. Here in my town there is no separateness except for self-segregation which seems to occur naturally. Neighborhoods are diverse, blacks are in power positions, social integration is evident at golf clubs, restaurants, theaters, and other public venues. The universities are available to all and sports is a common denominator. I would appreciate a sequel that divulged that reality to the "outside" world.
My point is, I would just ask readers to be conscious that what you see of some of these Country Club, JR League-r women, is not indicative of all of the Deep South and its attitude towards Black help. When my own neighborhood Book Club read this as one of our monthly selections, it was most interesting to see how others from different areas from across the US interpreted race relations at the time in the South. Kathryn Stockett's book, I had to remind them, is just one snapshot, albeit an ugly one.
When I clicked on this thread, I expected to find a post like yours. And you live in North Carolina too! We moved to North Carolina in the 60s when my father was transferred. People glared at my mother because she would have conversations with black people. I have a black friend who happened to be in North Carolina for Christmas in the 60s. Her family wasn't permitted in the Catholic Church to attend Midnight Mass. Sad memories come back to her every time she hears "Oh Holly Night" because that's the song she heard inside the church on the night when they were turned away. IMO your family was a rare exception for North Carolina in the 60s.
IMO your family was a rare exception for North Carolina in the 60s.
Thank your for the nice compliment, Hopes, but my family is hardly comprised of saints.
We were actually living in Baton Rouge, LA, when I had my first experience with Black help. My Mother suffered from polio as a child, and had unfortunately, at this point in her adult life, fallen, and broken her good leg. Dad had gotten out of the Marine Corps to attend LSU. His parents were upper crust New Orleans's society.
Lily was, for us, a Godsend. She was actually in the apartment with us, more to help Mama, and less to cook or clean, but she did it all. She was a large enough, strong enough, person until she could cradle my mother as one might a child, and carry her from the bedroom to the living room, lift her into a tub to bathe her, help Dad get her to the car for a doctor's appointment, and the like. We, girls, were fond of Lily, and while my two younger sisters could not have picked up on subtle prejudices, I knew things were largely different for Blacks. I could easily discern that living conditions for Lily, and her family, and her grandbaby she enjoyed telling us about, were far below even ours, with my father back in college, supporting a wife and three children.
Still, Dad's parents lived in the Garden District of New Orleans, and they had help. My grandfather had a man who helped him in the two gardens on either side of the house, and who did handyman jobs, and Grandmother employed a Black woman, Bertha Brown, who worked in the kitchen. I never saw my grandparents treat them as any less than anyone else they hired to work at the house, nor do I recall any negative talk about Blacks.
Again, we girls, were most grateful for the help because they genuinely had a better understanding of children -- in a household where children were meant to be seen and not heard. When we were expected to dress and sit like ladies in the dining room, staring at plates of heaven-knew-what, there were also peanut butter and jelly sandwiches waiting on us on the kitchen counter, just out of the adults' eyesight. I recall the trips through the French quarter with Bertha, with her holding my hand and instructing me to look at no one, talk to no one. . .did a kid need any more excuse to crane a neck and gawk?
I guess I just don't want everyone to assume all of us, with Black help, at the time, treated them as portrayed by most in Stockett's work. I enjoyed your sharing your family's own experiences. I SO hope much of that attitude is behind us, but realistically, realize it's not necessarily so.
I was late getting to this book but, thank goodness I DID get to it. This is a must read. It's well written and very involving with defined characters that you will either love or not love. The story sheds light on a shameful era in America..it is told in a way that makes the reader laugh, cry, and hope. I'm looking forward to more from this writer..
I just finished it. Very good book and I am glad I read it. There was a huge waiting list for it at the Library, so I did something I rarely do..I bought it. I don't regret it and it is now being passed around a group of friends. I will likely not see it again for months!
As one who grew up visiting relatives in the South during the 60's, I can certainly attest to this. I saw it all the time. While my own grandparents certainly did not have help ( my own white grandmother worked as a maid herself) I did see the discrimination everywhere we went. I remember clearly the seperate drinking fountains and signs on restaurants reminding the "Coloreds" that they were to eat in the back and use the back door only. I remember going to the local pool on sweltering hot days and seeing young black children asking to be let in and refused. I remember the 4th of July Picnic for the entire town. Blacks were not allowed in. There were deputies on guard at the gate to make certain of that. I remember questioning these things as a child and while I did not understand, in my heart I knew it was wrong.
However, I do wish the book had also mentioned the good employers who treated their help as family members. There were many maids who stayed with the same family for decades becasue they were happy there.
As mentioned by someone else, the book was a bit too black and white. It needed some color that would have come through in telling the whole story.
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