Book Review: "The Help"

My book club's selection this month was "The Help" by Kathryn Stockett. It's a story about the lives of white women in 1960's Jackson, Mississippi and the black women who work for them. It's a story about racism, sexism, social heirarchy and violence. But mostly, it's a story about telling a story.

(Before I get any further -- special shout out to our hostess with the mostess for her delicious vegetarian Dilly Chili and caramel cake.)

I won't throw around our English class observations of symbolism, or our discussion of the relationships between female friends and mothers and their daughters. I also won't talk about individualism versus conformity, risk versus reward or the terms of the Southern class system. If you read the book, you'll get into all that yourself.

I will call out a friend of mine, who requested I write fewer book reviews and stick with the funny stuff. To that I offer a compromise (just this one time, though, because I can make it work. After this, buddy, you're S.O.L.)

If you want funny, here are the reasons you should read this book (no set up; no context):

1. He jiggles his hand between his legs, hitching up his knees. "Come on, get you some pecker pie!"

2. I saw that dress four days ago and I knew it looked hussified -- of course she had to pick the one with the low neckline -- but I had no idea what would happen when she stuffed herself inside it. She's popping out like a corn cob in Crisco.

3. "What? He's not supposed to know that I know that he knows about you."

4. Along the bottom of the check, in the little space for the notes, Miss Celia's written the words in pretty cursive handwriting: For Two-Slice Hilly.

5. "I'm sorry, but were you dropped on your head as an infant?"

6. "Mama, God doesn't care what day of the week it is," I say and make for the car before she can ask any more questions.

7. I have never in my life seen a thing like this. Three dozen of em. Pots. Right smack on Miss Hilly's lawn. Almost look like a crowd a people the way some got they lids open talking, some with they lids closed listening.

8. Either you quit beating on me, or I'm gone. And I'm not taking the kids either. Which ain't true, about the kids, but that ought to scare him more than anything.

9. Mother is shaking her head. "Hilly, darling. No young husband wants to come home and see this. Look at your hair. And that..." Mother frowns, peering closer at the cold sore. "That is not attractive, dear."

10. "I tell her to eat my shit."

Whether for the subject matter at the top or the list of funny parts, this is a book worth reading... and best enjoyed with a slice of caramel cake.