Chapter 5 of Gone With the Wind is divided into 2 basic parts. Part 1 takes place in Scarlett's bedroom as she picks out her outfit for the barbecue, and while many other characters are part of Scarlett's internal dialogue and logical assessment of the day's fashion (she is seeking the approval/admiration of Ashley, Melanie, and her mother and tries to find an outfit that will please all three), Mammy is the only other character with a speaking bit in this part of the book. This is not the first time we've read dialogue between Scarlett and Mammy (they speak during the first few pages of the novel), but this is the first time we get a great sense of Mammy as a character.
And she is a character.
I normally abhor any and all dialects in print, but I must admit that Mitchell did a fairly decent job with Mammy's accent. MM was from the south and she obviously has a good ear for Southern, African-American language, and she uses her own experiences and knowledge here to great effect. Compare Mammy's speech patterns in GWTW to, say, the speech patterns found in Northern novels like Uncle Tom's Cabin, and it's obvious that Mitchell wasn't working purely from stereotypes, but rather was genuinely attempting to transcribe the way African-Americans in her part of the South spoke during the mid-19th century. And, more than that, Mammy's bossy, brash personality comes through vividly thanks, in part, to her speech patterns, particularly when her speech patterns and word choices are compared to those of Pork, Dilcey, Prissy and several other African-Americans in the novel. Mammy is a strong, fearless character and she goes toe-to-toe with Scarlett here--and even bests her--in a manner that no one else in the book (save, of course, Rhett) comes close to matching.
Part 2 of Chapter 5 consists of Scarlett riding to the barbecue while she drifts between daydreams of her not-too-distant marriage to Ashely and listening to her father and Mrs. Tarleton discuss horses and breeding. Interestingly enough, I've read a lot of analysis of GWTW, but I've never once read anything about the symbolism of horses in the novel. Now of course, there might not be anything to analyze given that the presence of horses is an absolute necessity in a novel taking place during the mid-19th century, but at the same time I do believe that MM's use of horses as topics of conversation and as role players at critical times in the plot do make them more than background objects to the main thrust of the narrative.
Gerald and Bonnie are, of course, eventually destroyed by their love of horses and taking risks. Rhett rescues Scarlett from the burning of Atlanta by bringing her a horse. Plus, importantly, he even shows up smelling like horses (and brandy and leather) on that night in 1864. Obviously, horses represent mobility and security and money, but they also just as obviously represent recklessness and uncertainty and death in GWTW. And here, in Chapter 5, Mrs. Tarleton and Mr. O'Hara launch into a long, long, long conversation about horses and breeding and the Wilkes', a conversation Scarlett barely hears, but one which proves very important later on in the novel as we the reader start to confront the notion that Ashley may not be the best possible suitor for Scarlett after all.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Chapter 4: Wishes, Hopes, and Prayers
Chapter 4 of Gone With the Wind brings us back to Scarlett's present day. It takes places after Scarlett has presided over supper in her mother's place, and over the course of these pages Mitchell introduces a number of characters who will become minor (but fairly important) characters later on in the book. The first of these is Prissy, Pork's daughter (or step-daughter) whom Gerald has just purchased from Ashely Wilkes' father. Prissy's parents are Pork and Dilcey, two of the most competent and noble characters in the book (black or white), and Scarlett automatically assumes that Prissy will be of use. I thought Prissy was merely a throw-away character the first time I read GWTW, but of course she becomes integral to the plot during the later Siege of Atlanta. Mitchell is very, very good at providing her characters with memorable introductions, and even Prissy comes onto the scene in a grand fashion here. After all, Gerald didn't have to buy Dilcey or Prissy, but does so as a favor to Pork; consequently, when she later materializes onto center stage during Scarlett's initial Atlanta period, the reader is automatically comfortable with the character and just as gullible as everybody else when Prissy says she knows all there is to know about "birthin' babies."
The next characters to enter the scene are the Slattery's, the working class (Mitchell uses another term, but I'm sticking with 'working class') family that lives on swampy land situated directly between the Wilkes' plantation and Tara. Scarlett barely knows the Slattery's, and most of her knowledge of the family comes from gossip. Ellen has been out helping a younger Slattery daughter (probably about Scarlett's age) give birth to a still-born child. At this point, Scarlett is too young and too naive to relate to Poor Miss Slattery and her out-of-wedlock child, but I think it's interesting to consider at this point how various pregnancies eventually affect every aspect of Scarlett's ultimate destiny.
1.) Melanie: 1864. If Melanie hadn't been pregnant with Ashley's baby during the fall of 1864, both women probably would have high-tailed it to somewhere less dangerous. But Melanie is pregnant, and having a hard time, and is too fragile to travel, so Scarlett is stuck there in Atlanta. Helping.
2.) Scarlett: 187? Scarlett's miscarriage is the true turning point in a novel full of turning points and red herrings and stutter-stop climaxes.
3.) Melanie: 1873. The final, sad act of the story takes place strictly because of Melanie's risky 2nd pregnancy.
Anyway, Scarlett barely even notices the Slattery pregnancy except as an occasion to smirk and feel superior to those on the opposite end of the socio-economic spectrum. She's so selfish!
The remainder of this novel is all about Scarlett plotting about how to capture Ashley. Interestingly enough, all of her scheming occurs during prayer time, which is genius because it demonstrates both Scarlett's willful spirit and love of Ashley and tells the reader that Scarlett is a young woman with absolutely no interest in religion. She's very good a lip service and saying the right prayers at the right moments, but she doesn't believe in what she's doing. Scarlett herself compares life to a mathematical formula (if she does thus-and-so, then other people will do thus-and-so), and while she isn't a traditional academic, Scarlett is the neighborhood genius when it comes to the equations that produce interest and dedication from prospective male suitors.
The next characters to enter the scene are the Slattery's, the working class (Mitchell uses another term, but I'm sticking with 'working class') family that lives on swampy land situated directly between the Wilkes' plantation and Tara. Scarlett barely knows the Slattery's, and most of her knowledge of the family comes from gossip. Ellen has been out helping a younger Slattery daughter (probably about Scarlett's age) give birth to a still-born child. At this point, Scarlett is too young and too naive to relate to Poor Miss Slattery and her out-of-wedlock child, but I think it's interesting to consider at this point how various pregnancies eventually affect every aspect of Scarlett's ultimate destiny.
1.) Melanie: 1864. If Melanie hadn't been pregnant with Ashley's baby during the fall of 1864, both women probably would have high-tailed it to somewhere less dangerous. But Melanie is pregnant, and having a hard time, and is too fragile to travel, so Scarlett is stuck there in Atlanta. Helping.
2.) Scarlett: 187? Scarlett's miscarriage is the true turning point in a novel full of turning points and red herrings and stutter-stop climaxes.
3.) Melanie: 1873. The final, sad act of the story takes place strictly because of Melanie's risky 2nd pregnancy.
Anyway, Scarlett barely even notices the Slattery pregnancy except as an occasion to smirk and feel superior to those on the opposite end of the socio-economic spectrum. She's so selfish!
The remainder of this novel is all about Scarlett plotting about how to capture Ashley. Interestingly enough, all of her scheming occurs during prayer time, which is genius because it demonstrates both Scarlett's willful spirit and love of Ashley and tells the reader that Scarlett is a young woman with absolutely no interest in religion. She's very good a lip service and saying the right prayers at the right moments, but she doesn't believe in what she's doing. Scarlett herself compares life to a mathematical formula (if she does thus-and-so, then other people will do thus-and-so), and while she isn't a traditional academic, Scarlett is the neighborhood genius when it comes to the equations that produce interest and dedication from prospective male suitors.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Chapter 3: Introducing Ellen and Gerald
Chapter 3 of GWTW begins with a description of Ellen O'Hara, a thirty-two year old woman who "had borne six children and buried three." Scarlett adores and admires her mother, but in my opinion the narrator/Mitchell actually seems ambivalent about the Mistress of Tara. Most literary analysis very quickly makes a connection between Ellen and Melanie Wilkes and the two women are alike on the surface. But while both are strong, quiet, and capable, Ellen lacks Melanie's heart and her pragmatism. Ellen taught her three daughters how to thrive on the distaff side of the planter class, but while her lessons in manners, deportment, and charm are no doubt good training for Scarlett, Suellen, and Careen, none of the girls seems to have actually learned the reasons behind the rules of etiquette and interpersonal relationships (and fashion) that have been drilled into them since birth.
By contrast, while Melanie is just as well-schooled in southern belle behavior as Ellen and her girls, Melanie's character spends most of the book grounded in reality. Melanie sees through all the social constructions of their class and instinctively understands the motives and desires of all those around her. Melanie is the first person to recognize the good in Rhett (or his alleged good, anyway), she's the only person to rationally assess Belle Watling, and she's the one who works hardest to keep the Old Guard together during the post-war years. And so, by chapter 3 of this re-read I've already begun to compare and contrast Ellen and Melanie. Although Scarlett spends most of the book remembering her mother through rose-colored glasses (and understandably so), I'm convinced that there's a coldness to Ellen. A certain blase selfishness and distance from the world that doesn't truly allow her to relax. She never seems to be in the moment, and while the paragraphs of backstory we get in this chapter go a long way toward explaining her behavior, the information doesn't make her any easier to understand. Or to like. As a wise man once said:
"I understand, but I'll be damned if I sympathize."
Anyway, after the narrator gives us eleven paragraphs of exposition about Ellen's background, she then gives us Gerald's backstory. And where Ellen's story is shrouded in mystery and long lost love, Gerald's life is an open book. IAnd what a book it is.
Gerald's life has included: war, murder, older brothers, Catholic prayers, poker games, copious amounts of very strong liquor, swear words, fence jumping, and "his father's parting admonition, 'remember who you are and don't be taking nothing off no man.'" Gerald's past is as colorful and exciting as the man himself, and I bet Mitchell had a field day diagramming how, when and why he came to America. Gerald is a fun character, and a funny one, far and away the most interesting and likeable person in Scarlett's immediate family--not that he has any competition given that everybody else is kind of boring.
Obviously, Gerald's background is very, very similar to Rhett's. He's a good card player and he lives on the edge despite his upper-class surroundings, and I appreciate his humor. He seems comfortable in his own skin at this point in the novel, which makes it all the more tragic when (SPOILER!) he loses his mind after the Yankees ransack the county. I read a review of the movie recently that said that Gerald's death foreshadows Bonnie's death, and while this is true I would also argue that Gerald's 'bout of insanity after his world falls apart directly foreshadows Rhett's unraveling during the final section of the book.
More about that later.
Mitchell ends chapter 3 with a lengthy description of Scarlett herself, and while I was reading it last week one sentence stood out and made me laugh:
"At sixteen....she looked sweet, charming, and giddy, but she was, in reality, self-willed, vain and obstinate."
Now that is one hell of a way to describe the protagonist of a book.
A lot of people dismiss GWTW as nothing more than a dated romance novel, a boddice ripper that just sort of lucked into being one of the most popular pieces of art of all time. But I disagree, because as a devoted writer and reader of romance novels, I know that even the most daring authors wouldn't dream of giving us a lead character with so few redeeming traits. Scarlett is smart and funny, but most of her funny thoughts are internal dialogue and I don't think anybody (except maybe Rhett) would call her a wit. She's a popular girl and she becomes a very popular woman, but she's a bitch. Nothing more, nothing less.
She's a boyfriend stealer. She's a slave driver, she's a manipulative woman who married once for spite, once out of desperation, and once for money. She's a bitch, and even on my first read I realized that she wasn't going to be able to easily transition from self-centered bitchiness to butter-won't-melt-in-my-mouth polite behavior.
By contrast, while Melanie is just as well-schooled in southern belle behavior as Ellen and her girls, Melanie's character spends most of the book grounded in reality. Melanie sees through all the social constructions of their class and instinctively understands the motives and desires of all those around her. Melanie is the first person to recognize the good in Rhett (or his alleged good, anyway), she's the only person to rationally assess Belle Watling, and she's the one who works hardest to keep the Old Guard together during the post-war years. And so, by chapter 3 of this re-read I've already begun to compare and contrast Ellen and Melanie. Although Scarlett spends most of the book remembering her mother through rose-colored glasses (and understandably so), I'm convinced that there's a coldness to Ellen. A certain blase selfishness and distance from the world that doesn't truly allow her to relax. She never seems to be in the moment, and while the paragraphs of backstory we get in this chapter go a long way toward explaining her behavior, the information doesn't make her any easier to understand. Or to like. As a wise man once said:
"I understand, but I'll be damned if I sympathize."
Anyway, after the narrator gives us eleven paragraphs of exposition about Ellen's background, she then gives us Gerald's backstory. And where Ellen's story is shrouded in mystery and long lost love, Gerald's life is an open book. IAnd what a book it is.
Gerald's life has included: war, murder, older brothers, Catholic prayers, poker games, copious amounts of very strong liquor, swear words, fence jumping, and "his father's parting admonition, 'remember who you are and don't be taking nothing off no man.'" Gerald's past is as colorful and exciting as the man himself, and I bet Mitchell had a field day diagramming how, when and why he came to America. Gerald is a fun character, and a funny one, far and away the most interesting and likeable person in Scarlett's immediate family--not that he has any competition given that everybody else is kind of boring.
Obviously, Gerald's background is very, very similar to Rhett's. He's a good card player and he lives on the edge despite his upper-class surroundings, and I appreciate his humor. He seems comfortable in his own skin at this point in the novel, which makes it all the more tragic when (SPOILER!) he loses his mind after the Yankees ransack the county. I read a review of the movie recently that said that Gerald's death foreshadows Bonnie's death, and while this is true I would also argue that Gerald's 'bout of insanity after his world falls apart directly foreshadows Rhett's unraveling during the final section of the book.
More about that later.
Mitchell ends chapter 3 with a lengthy description of Scarlett herself, and while I was reading it last week one sentence stood out and made me laugh:
"At sixteen....she looked sweet, charming, and giddy, but she was, in reality, self-willed, vain and obstinate."
Now that is one hell of a way to describe the protagonist of a book.
A lot of people dismiss GWTW as nothing more than a dated romance novel, a boddice ripper that just sort of lucked into being one of the most popular pieces of art of all time. But I disagree, because as a devoted writer and reader of romance novels, I know that even the most daring authors wouldn't dream of giving us a lead character with so few redeeming traits. Scarlett is smart and funny, but most of her funny thoughts are internal dialogue and I don't think anybody (except maybe Rhett) would call her a wit. She's a popular girl and she becomes a very popular woman, but she's a bitch. Nothing more, nothing less.
She's a boyfriend stealer. She's a slave driver, she's a manipulative woman who married once for spite, once out of desperation, and once for money. She's a bitch, and even on my first read I realized that she wasn't going to be able to easily transition from self-centered bitchiness to butter-won't-melt-in-my-mouth polite behavior.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Chapter 2: "Ashley to marry Melanie!"
The first time I read GWTW, I had absolutely not idea how it ended. I mean, I knew Clark Gable walked out on Scarlett after telling her he didn't give a damn (SPOILER!), but I certainly didn't know the details of the novel's romantic entanglements. I honestly didn't know my Geralds from Rhetts from Ashleys, and I didn't know my Melanies from my Suellens. And after reading chapter 1 for the first time, I sincerely expected that Scarlett would come to her senses and fall in love with one of those dreamy, loud, brash Tarleton Twins.
But then I turned the page and started to read about Ashley.
And instantly fell in love with him.
Just as Scarlett did.
"She had been on the front porch," Mitchell describes, "and he had ridden up the long avenue, dressed in gray broadcloth with a wide black cravat setting off his frilled shirt to perfection. Even no, she could recall each detail of his dress, how brightly his boots shone....the wide Panama hat that was instantly in his hand when he saw her......"
Wow!
Now, anybody who's known me for longer than thirty seconds knows I'm a Rhett girl. But....my goodness gracious! Folks like to pretend Scarlett O'Hara is crazy for loving Ashley as she does. And maybe it is crazy in the context of the movie, given that Rhett/Gable is the manliest manly that ever manned while Leslie Howard is.....a little less. But in the book Ashley is the true hottie, a 21-year-old Prince William (google that shit) with a Panama hat and a southern accent.
"He had alighted and tossed his bridle reins to a pickaninny," Mitchell continues," and stood looking up at her, his drowsy gray eyes wide with a smile and the sun so bright on his blonde hair that it seemed like a cap of shining silver."
Double wow!
And so, while my early-30's self can giggle at Scarlett for chasing Ashley around the south for a dozen years, my 16-year-old self immediately understood how and why Scarlett slipped into her Ashley addiction. The boy is whip smart, gorgeous, charming, tall, and ridiculously good at riding, gambling, drinking, and all the other country pursuits. But he's also drowsy-eyed and unattainable, the personification of the whole Robert E. Lee/Thomas Jefferson, Virginia Piedmont lifestyle that is traditionally held so dear by upper-class citizens of the solid south.
But....hang on.....
Because.....
It turns out....
That....
Ashley Wilkes is the biggest fool and coward in the entire book. It's not evident in chapter 2, obviously, but by the end of the story it's difficult not to hate him more than a little bit. There are no saints in GWTW--and no pure sinners either, come to think of it--but Ashley Wilkes winds up being the catalyst for almost everything that goes wrong in the story. He refuses to play the dominant role in any situation, letting Melanie, Scarlett, and (eventually) Rhett take the upper hand in all their interactions. It's sad.
So, what does that say about Mitchell's true feelings on the Lee/Jefferson school of southern masculinity?
Action: After Scarlett remembers how she fell in love with Ashley, Mitchell then swings the action away from the porch and toward the other end of the plantation. Scarlett is hustling to meet her father on his way home from the Wilkes' mansion, hoping against hope that he'll be able to give her some good news. Namely, she's hoping the Tarleton Twins were lying and that Ashley and Melanie won't be getting married at all. That doesn't happen, obviously, and Scarlett spends most of the chapter vacillating between shock and anger. Which would be hilarious if it wasn't so utterly heartbreaking and familiar for anyone who's ever been torn apart by love.
Gerald O'Hara is a character, and chapter 2 and chapter 3 almost act as prequels as Mitchell succinctly introduces Scarlett's father and his background. Interestingly, anyone who takes offense at Mitchell's many, many racist words and ideas should re-read this part of the book. Because African-Americans get off relatively easy compared to the Irish Americans, given that Mitchell apparently believes life on the Emerald Isle consists of nothing more than whiskey, prayer, whiskey, fighting, whiskey, horses, whiskey, and whiskey. And after reading this part for the first time, I began to wonder: if Scarlett's father is a wild drunk then what in the world is her mother like?
But then I turned the page and started to read about Ashley.
And instantly fell in love with him.
Just as Scarlett did.
"She had been on the front porch," Mitchell describes, "and he had ridden up the long avenue, dressed in gray broadcloth with a wide black cravat setting off his frilled shirt to perfection. Even no, she could recall each detail of his dress, how brightly his boots shone....the wide Panama hat that was instantly in his hand when he saw her......"
Wow!
Now, anybody who's known me for longer than thirty seconds knows I'm a Rhett girl. But....my goodness gracious! Folks like to pretend Scarlett O'Hara is crazy for loving Ashley as she does. And maybe it is crazy in the context of the movie, given that Rhett/Gable is the manliest manly that ever manned while Leslie Howard is.....a little less. But in the book Ashley is the true hottie, a 21-year-old Prince William (google that shit) with a Panama hat and a southern accent.
"He had alighted and tossed his bridle reins to a pickaninny," Mitchell continues," and stood looking up at her, his drowsy gray eyes wide with a smile and the sun so bright on his blonde hair that it seemed like a cap of shining silver."
Double wow!
And so, while my early-30's self can giggle at Scarlett for chasing Ashley around the south for a dozen years, my 16-year-old self immediately understood how and why Scarlett slipped into her Ashley addiction. The boy is whip smart, gorgeous, charming, tall, and ridiculously good at riding, gambling, drinking, and all the other country pursuits. But he's also drowsy-eyed and unattainable, the personification of the whole Robert E. Lee/Thomas Jefferson, Virginia Piedmont lifestyle that is traditionally held so dear by upper-class citizens of the solid south.
But....hang on.....
Because.....
It turns out....
That....
Ashley Wilkes is the biggest fool and coward in the entire book. It's not evident in chapter 2, obviously, but by the end of the story it's difficult not to hate him more than a little bit. There are no saints in GWTW--and no pure sinners either, come to think of it--but Ashley Wilkes winds up being the catalyst for almost everything that goes wrong in the story. He refuses to play the dominant role in any situation, letting Melanie, Scarlett, and (eventually) Rhett take the upper hand in all their interactions. It's sad.
So, what does that say about Mitchell's true feelings on the Lee/Jefferson school of southern masculinity?
Action: After Scarlett remembers how she fell in love with Ashley, Mitchell then swings the action away from the porch and toward the other end of the plantation. Scarlett is hustling to meet her father on his way home from the Wilkes' mansion, hoping against hope that he'll be able to give her some good news. Namely, she's hoping the Tarleton Twins were lying and that Ashley and Melanie won't be getting married at all. That doesn't happen, obviously, and Scarlett spends most of the chapter vacillating between shock and anger. Which would be hilarious if it wasn't so utterly heartbreaking and familiar for anyone who's ever been torn apart by love.
Gerald O'Hara is a character, and chapter 2 and chapter 3 almost act as prequels as Mitchell succinctly introduces Scarlett's father and his background. Interestingly, anyone who takes offense at Mitchell's many, many racist words and ideas should re-read this part of the book. Because African-Americans get off relatively easy compared to the Irish Americans, given that Mitchell apparently believes life on the Emerald Isle consists of nothing more than whiskey, prayer, whiskey, fighting, whiskey, horses, whiskey, and whiskey. And after reading this part for the first time, I began to wonder: if Scarlett's father is a wild drunk then what in the world is her mother like?
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Chapter 1: To Scarlett on our 16th Birthday
I read Gone With the Wind for the first time during the summer of 1995. I was sixteen that July and bored out of my mind, too young to drive, too lazy to work, and too broke to do anything much besides obsessively watch Cary Grant films on AMC and wear out my library card. I've always been a bit of a history nerd, so I spent that June reading random American history books. And romance novels. Lots and lots of romance novels.
By the time Independence Day rolled around, I'd exhausted our local supply of bodice rippers and was looking for something new. Something different. Something classic, but sexy. I considered Pride and Prejudice and a few other similar books crowding the assignment shelf, but then I found Gone With the Wind. GWTW is the most famous movie of all time, but I'd never sat through it. Consequently, I knew very little about Scarlett beyond a few "Fiddle-Dee-Dees" and I knew nothing about Rhett besides his mustache and the fact that he "didn't give a damn." I went into the book with an open mind, but it was long and I was sure it was antiquated. And I was sure I wouldn't enjoy it. In fact, as I glanced at the 1048 pages in my borrowed copy, I doubted that I would get much further than 200 or so pages.
But, of course, I was wrong.
I was hooked by the end of the first paragraph. Scarlett O'Hara and I have nothing in common on the surface, but we were both 16, both sassy and both smart, and out of all the books I'd read and the movies I'd seen she was the character who reminded me most of myself. Over the course of 1048 pages and 12 years of Civil War drama I gained a friend. A homegirl. An ally who I instantly knew would be my bfff(best female fictional friend) for life. I cheered with her, cried with her, celebrated her triumphs, and had my little teenaged heart broken into a million little pieces by the wild finish and great tragedy of her marriage to Rhett. I've read GWTW cover-to-cover at least 10 times over the past 16 years, but it never gets old for me. And since this is the 16th anniversary of a meeting that happened when I was 16, I've decided this is as good a time as ever to blog the book chapter by chapter. To do an in-depth analysis of Mitchell's style, to evaluate the characters, to figure out precisely how a book that shouldn't be any good at all wound up being the Great American Novel (yeah, I said it). So, without further ado, let's begin at the beginning and take a look at Chapter 1.
Action: Chapter 1 of GWTW begins with Scarlett O'Hara having a conversation. Now, if this had been a lesser book and a lesser author and a lesser character, Scarlett would have probably been talking to just one person. But she's not.
Instead, she's talking to the Tarleton Twins, two super hot idiots who've just been expelled from school (again), and are hiding from their angry mother at Tara. Brent and Stewart are the 19th century versions of Prince Harry: silly and stupid and brash and tall, quick to anger, charming and ginger. What girl wouldn't love them?
Oh yeah. Scarlett. Because she's in love with Ashley. But we don't even find out much about Scarlett and Ashely until Chapter 2, because Mitchell is too busy using the Tarleton Twins to tell us about the County. It's a splendid little device because the Twins are hilarious and crazy but solid and safe, and as such they're the perfect representations of Mitchell's Antebellum south. Even more than Ashley (who is not in this chapter), more than Ellen, and more than Scarlett herself. They're honest and hardy, wild and free, rich and totally, totally, totally fucking insane. They're so close they're both trying to date Scarlett at the same time. And so crazy they've been expelled from every southern university this side of Tuskegee (yeah, I said it). But that's okay, because book learnin' isn't really important for men in that part of the world. The only things southern gentlemen need to know are how to drink whiskey, how to shoot straight, how to play cards, and how to properly curse, and the Twins have those things all figured out, thank you very much.
So Brent and Stuart and Scarlett sit on the porch and gossip. And it's awesome because, despite the fact that it's a 1930's author essentially transcribing a conversation between young adults in 1861, it's vibrant. The characters bounce along, wonderfully ignorant of life beyond their own simple, beautiful world, convinced that Yankees are cowards, utterly sure that their lives will continue on just as it is, certain that nothing will ever change their world (jai guru deva om, etc). Interestingly enough, Mitchell doesn't use any foreshadowing in this chapter.
She doesn't have to. The reader knows the War is coming, and the reader knows it's going to destroy everything the three of them can see. We don't know precisely how Scarlett, Brent, and Stewart will experience the War of Northern Aggression (mmmm hmmmm), but we do know it will change them. Thusly, this entire first chapter challenges the reader emotionally because the characters are blissfully unaware of the freight train racing down the tracks, but the reader can already here the whistle and see the smoke and is just waiting patiently for the coming destruction. It's like that part in an 80's horror movie when the super cool, super rich, super beautiful high school seniors get in their car and head up to summer camp. You watch and shake your head, and wait on tenterhooks for the fallout you know is coming.
By the time Independence Day rolled around, I'd exhausted our local supply of bodice rippers and was looking for something new. Something different. Something classic, but sexy. I considered Pride and Prejudice and a few other similar books crowding the assignment shelf, but then I found Gone With the Wind. GWTW is the most famous movie of all time, but I'd never sat through it. Consequently, I knew very little about Scarlett beyond a few "Fiddle-Dee-Dees" and I knew nothing about Rhett besides his mustache and the fact that he "didn't give a damn." I went into the book with an open mind, but it was long and I was sure it was antiquated. And I was sure I wouldn't enjoy it. In fact, as I glanced at the 1048 pages in my borrowed copy, I doubted that I would get much further than 200 or so pages.
But, of course, I was wrong.
I was hooked by the end of the first paragraph. Scarlett O'Hara and I have nothing in common on the surface, but we were both 16, both sassy and both smart, and out of all the books I'd read and the movies I'd seen she was the character who reminded me most of myself. Over the course of 1048 pages and 12 years of Civil War drama I gained a friend. A homegirl. An ally who I instantly knew would be my bfff(best female fictional friend) for life. I cheered with her, cried with her, celebrated her triumphs, and had my little teenaged heart broken into a million little pieces by the wild finish and great tragedy of her marriage to Rhett. I've read GWTW cover-to-cover at least 10 times over the past 16 years, but it never gets old for me. And since this is the 16th anniversary of a meeting that happened when I was 16, I've decided this is as good a time as ever to blog the book chapter by chapter. To do an in-depth analysis of Mitchell's style, to evaluate the characters, to figure out precisely how a book that shouldn't be any good at all wound up being the Great American Novel (yeah, I said it). So, without further ado, let's begin at the beginning and take a look at Chapter 1.
Action: Chapter 1 of GWTW begins with Scarlett O'Hara having a conversation. Now, if this had been a lesser book and a lesser author and a lesser character, Scarlett would have probably been talking to just one person. But she's not.
Instead, she's talking to the Tarleton Twins, two super hot idiots who've just been expelled from school (again), and are hiding from their angry mother at Tara. Brent and Stewart are the 19th century versions of Prince Harry: silly and stupid and brash and tall, quick to anger, charming and ginger. What girl wouldn't love them?
Oh yeah. Scarlett. Because she's in love with Ashley. But we don't even find out much about Scarlett and Ashely until Chapter 2, because Mitchell is too busy using the Tarleton Twins to tell us about the County. It's a splendid little device because the Twins are hilarious and crazy but solid and safe, and as such they're the perfect representations of Mitchell's Antebellum south. Even more than Ashley (who is not in this chapter), more than Ellen, and more than Scarlett herself. They're honest and hardy, wild and free, rich and totally, totally, totally fucking insane. They're so close they're both trying to date Scarlett at the same time. And so crazy they've been expelled from every southern university this side of Tuskegee (yeah, I said it). But that's okay, because book learnin' isn't really important for men in that part of the world. The only things southern gentlemen need to know are how to drink whiskey, how to shoot straight, how to play cards, and how to properly curse, and the Twins have those things all figured out, thank you very much.
So Brent and Stuart and Scarlett sit on the porch and gossip. And it's awesome because, despite the fact that it's a 1930's author essentially transcribing a conversation between young adults in 1861, it's vibrant. The characters bounce along, wonderfully ignorant of life beyond their own simple, beautiful world, convinced that Yankees are cowards, utterly sure that their lives will continue on just as it is, certain that nothing will ever change their world (jai guru deva om, etc). Interestingly enough, Mitchell doesn't use any foreshadowing in this chapter.
She doesn't have to. The reader knows the War is coming, and the reader knows it's going to destroy everything the three of them can see. We don't know precisely how Scarlett, Brent, and Stewart will experience the War of Northern Aggression (mmmm hmmmm), but we do know it will change them. Thusly, this entire first chapter challenges the reader emotionally because the characters are blissfully unaware of the freight train racing down the tracks, but the reader can already here the whistle and see the smoke and is just waiting patiently for the coming destruction. It's like that part in an 80's horror movie when the super cool, super rich, super beautiful high school seniors get in their car and head up to summer camp. You watch and shake your head, and wait on tenterhooks for the fallout you know is coming.
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