Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I’ve read Gone with the Wind before. I first read it in middle school, I think; I reread it a few times in high school but I would stop after “as God is my witness I’ll never be hungry again” because I got too upset at the second half. In college I went through a phase of watching the ending to the movie over and over to make myself cry, in a sort of weird cathartic urge.
I had a sudden impulse to reread it the other day and I’m not sure exactly what was going on in my subconscious but man it feels really relevant.
Some thoughts:
I. Maybe I should read more novels. There’s something so spiritually rewarding about seeing someone’s private thoughts laid completely bare–it makes one feel less alone, like the world is filled not with p-zombies but with other entire people.
Scarlett isn’t introspective. She’s like the least emotionally intelligent person on the planet. She avoids thinking about unpleasant things and doesn’t tell hardly anyone what she’s actually thinking, except sometimes Rhett. It feels incredibly lonely to be in her head, walling off huge parts of herself from the world and even from herself. Maybe she should have read more novels.
II. It’s interesting how the novel can treat the flaws of the main characters with such compassionate understanding and then the characters who are black or white trash or Yankees just … nope.
It’s interesting how strong the instinct is to sympathize with the downtrodden people under an occupying military government. I mean, it’s basically the Hunger Games, if you ignore slavery. (Scarlett is Katniss, Gale is Ashley? Think about it.)
III. Scarlett isn’t admirable; she’s shallow, self-absorbed, petty, and cruel. She likes ballgowns and barbecues and beaux. And then shit goes down and she realizes she has something to protect and she does whatever it takes to do that and ugh that is awesome and I have so many feelings about this.
The passage that struck me most on this reread was:
Oh some day! When there was security in her world again, then she would sit back and fold her hands and be a great lady as Ellen had been. She would be helpless and sheltered, as a lady should be, and then everyone would approve of her. Oh, how grand she would be when she had money again! Then she could permit herself to be kind and gentle, as Ellen had been, and thoughtful of other people and of the proprieties, to. She would not be driven by fears, day and night, and life would be a placid, unhurried affair. She would have time to play with her children and listen to their lessons. There would be long warm afternoons when ladies would call and, amid the rustlings of taffeta petticoats and the rhythmic harsh cracklings of palmetto fans, she would serve tea and delicious sandwiches and cakes and leisurely gossip the hours away. And she would be so kind to those who were suffering misfortune, take baskets to the poor and soup and jelly to the sick and “air” those less fortunate in her fine carriage. She would be a lady in the true Southern manner, as her mother had been. And then, everyone would love her as they had loved Ellen and they would say how unselfish she was and call her “Lady Bountiful.”
Her pleasure in these thoughts of the future was undimmed by any realization that she had no real desire to be unselfish or charitable or kind. All she wanted was the reputation for possessing these qualities. But the meshes of her brain were too wide, too coarse, to filter such small differences. It was enough that some day, when she had money, everyone would approve of her.
Some day! But not now. Not now, in spite of what anyone might say of her. Now, there was no time to be a great lady.
IV. When I was younger, I remember feeling much more frustrated at Scarlett. I was mad that she was a neglectful mother and now I’m like “well, she has lots of responsibilities, kids are a lot of work, idk.” I was upset at her for using convict labor; now I’m like “sure, tradeoffs, running a business is hard, it’s not any worse than slavery.” I couldn’t wait for her to get over Ashley already and now I’m like “sure why not have a ten-year-long emotional affair with Ashley Wilkes, seems fun.” I’m not sure if this says good or bad things about me.
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