“The Help” by Kathryn Stockett

Last August I perched myself in a beach chair, Kindle in hand, and started to look for my next good novel.  I scanned the New York Times best seller list for some inspiration and found a title that drew me in:  “The Help” by Kathryn Stockett.  At that moment it began to rain.  I grabbed my beach bag, threw my Kindle in, and ran for shelter.

When I got settled inside I realized in my exit I had purchased “The Help” instead of getting the sample–in hindsight, a great decision.  I have to admit, it took me a while to get through “The Help,” about five weeks, because I read it slowly, in the bathtub mostly. 

“The Help” is set in Jackson, Mississippi.  A place I know well–only an afternoon drive from the rural piece of Arkansas that I call home.  My father is a native of Mississippi, and I visit often to see my grandparents.  I love a setting close to home.  Stockett’s characters live in the early sixties–which again enthralls me because I’m obsessed with Mad Men.  The imagery is easy.  Gorgeous Cadillacs, pious, proud white women, and beautiful cotton fields on the outskirts of Jackson.

The main characters are Skeeter Phelan, an Ole Miss grad, hopeful writer; Minnie, a back-talking, firy maid for a Marilyn Monroe wannabe; and Aibelene a matronly caregiver and maid to Skeeter’s best friend Elizabeth.  The narrative switches back and forth between these three characters while continuing on a constant timeline.  Skeeter applies for a job at Harper Rowe in New York, without any real experience in writing she conceives an idea that will surely begin her writing career–a nonfiction narrative detailing stories from black maids in Jackson.  Skeeter wants to discuss their life’s work as a caregiver to white children and families, exploring the dissonance the maids experience as they are treated as inferiors, yet have an integral role in the white family.

Personally, I related so much to Skeeter who invests her life in a dream that is unlikely, and risks everything including her family’s reputation to see it become a reality.  She works on this secret book that she knows will either be a lot of nothing or a huge something in the end.  Skeeter also feels type casted as the white girl, but she has all of these progressive ideas about racism and feminism.  She’s a square peg in a round hole.

Stockett carries the story well, there are no lags, and every piece of Southern history and tradition is true to the core. Honestly, Stockett’s diction is nothing extraordinary, but she does have these moments where you read a sentence and think: “That is so true; I’ve never thought of it like that before.”  Insight is the true talent of an author.

My advice to you–buy this book on purpose and enjoy it’s rich content and hearty characters.  Read it slowly and learn something about the race riots in the South and how relationships between whites and blacks, particularly in the South, have evolved and still evolve today.  It’s hopeful, honest, and insightful.