My mom put this book in my hands on Christmas Day. That night, I found myself snuggled in bed ready to read myself into a deep slumber when all of the sudden I blinked and found myself transformed...Kathryn Stockett grabbed me from my bed and shoved me into the body of a black maid in Mississippi during the 60s in all of it's racist splendor. Anger heated my skin as the high society white women prattled about how they would ban together to protect society by demanding that a seperate maid's quarters be placed in every white home so that the diseased black bottoms would not infect the frail and vulnerable white tushes.
Kathryn did not leave me there long; she played with my emotions like the metal sphere in a pinball machine as I was pulled from one deliciously crafted character to the next. Thrust in and out of maids and their employers (more like masters) as they struggle with their insanely intimate, yet publicly separate, relationships each with her very own overflowing trunk-load of drama. A partial hero emerges as a woman of society begins to consider what is going on...she falls upon an opportunity that could be something big...something that could change things...if she can only make it work...
I consumed this novel (or it consumed me) in two days. Much of this time consisted of me chasing my 20 month old with my book-in-hand. I fear there were times in which I regressed in my motherly duties and I allowed him to be babysat by the television (I am SO SORRY Jace). This, I promise, is a rarity but it speaks volumes about the intensely gripping story of The Help. I remain in awe of this book. Not since reading Richard Wright's Native Son have I felt so delightfully, thoroughly enraged!
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I know what you mean about falling into a great book. Two days?! You are some kind of reading machine. I must have been good. I definitely want to read it. Knucklehead that I am, I took my chapter book to school the other day because I wanted to share some quotes with the children. It was a gift from my MAT in the fall. Very well written. It is called The Shadow of the Wind. But I forgot it on my mess of a table and now I fear that I must start something new with all of this time off. Argh! I hope this finds you, Eric and the little ones in a snowy bliss.
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