Killing Miss Scarlett

My parents always allowed me full access to their bookshelf. I don’t remember when I started selecting from their collection. Maybe around seventh or eighth grade I came across a well-worn early edition of Gone With the Wind. For a girl of the late 70’s coming of age in a log cabin nestled midst Appalachian foothills, Scarlett O’Hara, “who was not beautiful” (if you recall that memorable first line) but wore exquisite clothing, lived in a mansion, and was surrounded by handsome suitors at every barbecue, was the height of my romantic aspirations.

When school got out each May, I grabbed that tattered tome and began my annual escape into Margaret Mitchel’s fictional antebellum world, pausing only when my stomach demanded, staying up late into the wee hours, always hoping for a happy ending. But alas, on page 1035, after Scarlett finally came to her senses and tried desperately to make amends with her husband, he walked out! I couldn’t bear it. The heartbreak was so real; I internalized each of her pleadings. I started the novel over, trying to make it end right on the next round, but when Scarlett’s world unraveled the second time, I slammed the book shut. I could not finish. I skipped the end and started from the beginning all over.

Who knows how many cycles this went through?  I read the entire novel so many times—except for the last few pages—I became something of a GWTW scholar. And being so, I assumed everyone revered the fabled tale as much as I.

Until, my husband and I are newlyweds, and the movie comes on television.  I pop the popcorn and wait for Dan to join me on the couch to watch, “with limited interruptions.”

“I can’t stand that show,” he tells me. How did I marry a man who could have such an uncouth opinion of this excellent story?

“What? Why would you hate Gone With the Wind? It’s a classic!”

“That Scarlett. She’s awful. So self-centered. What a witch.” I am shocked by his comments, and sulk my way through the entire show. Doesn’t he recognize her strength, her will to survive, her cunning in turning curtains into clothes, her smarts to succeed in the business world? Why, I can’t eat a radish without tasting her words, “As God is my witness, I’ll never go hungry again!”

Then as the credits roll, I realize maybe he does have a point.

Five years later my parents come to visit and bring me a little gift. It’s a new copy of the Pulitzer Prize Winner. My very own GWTW to read and keep on a beautiful bookshelf my husband made for me. This time when I read it . . . about ten years after the last attempt . . . this time I make it to the end without quitting. All those years I thought the story unfinished, and unsatisfactory (and apparently so did many others who demanded a sequel)—I was wrong. Margaret Mitchell gave Scarlett the exact ending she wanted her to have. At least she didn’t completely kill her off, as I am now ready to do.

One more fast forward takes us to my kitchen table, where my 14-year-old daughter and her church-youth-group-bestie are enjoying a Sunday afternoon, between services. These two always have their noses in books; I try to keep up with what’s current on their YA shelves.

“What are you reading these days, Raina?”

“Gone With the Wind,” she answers, to my horror. This beautiful, brilliant, brown-skinned girl shouldn’t be exposed to that tale!

I want to tell her, stop reading! Put it away. I should pause to phrase my reply better, but these darling girls get my gut level response. “I can’t believe you’re reading that book. I admit, I used to read it over and over at your age, but now as an adult I see the portrayal of the enslaved as so demeaning. It turns my stomach. And then there’s Scarlett. I used to want to be her, but now. . . yuck.” The girls look at me with amusement during my little tirade, then suppress their giggles while I wait for agreement.

“Yeah, but it’s a really good story.”

She has me there. I guess I can let Scarlett live to see another day for the sake of a good story.

Your Turn: Did you ever reread a beloved book and change your opinion?