My enjoyment of this book was discolored by the long, long buildup to the real story. The Southern inferiority complex is readily apparent. Sidda, the main character, offers up proof that she has left Southern roots behind to become the very cliché of a sophisticated, "successful" urbanite: she has a good career, is in therapy, has a jaded prior love life, and is in a successful relationship ~ which bothers her enough that she immediately puts said relationship in jeopardy. The mother-daughter conflict is laid out. Sidda has been betrayed by a reporter into airing dirty secrets about her mother, thus alienating her family. Delightful to some, disgusting to others, will be the Jane-Fonda-like depiction of Catholicism, laced with profanity and blasphemies enough. Finally comes the story. The plot device is a trip through the minutia of the Ya-Ya scrapbook. The Ya Ya sisters themselves form a tight-knit, kooky group of long-time friends, but the scraps and letters don't tell all (and can be downright boring). I nearly gave up reading, but decided to skim. Finally, the story does become more absorbing. I found the meat of Vivi's story to be worth reading. That part is spicy, warm, poignant, and insightful, in an Oprah kind of way. The traumas described therein seem very "real," and Vivi is somewhat redeemed; but, lest we come to like her too much, her daughter throws in the obligatory Southern racism. The book has nice moments, though it reads more like a memoir than a novel. Granted, this is not my usual choice of reading material, but the title had given me hope. I was lukewarm about the movie and the book just didn't keep my interest. Still, my opinion shouldn't deter any reader who does love Oprah-like soul searching.
Showing posts with label southern literature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label southern literature. Show all posts
Monday, February 6, 2012
Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood
My enjoyment of this book was discolored by the long, long buildup to the real story. The Southern inferiority complex is readily apparent. Sidda, the main character, offers up proof that she has left Southern roots behind to become the very cliché of a sophisticated, "successful" urbanite: she has a good career, is in therapy, has a jaded prior love life, and is in a successful relationship ~ which bothers her enough that she immediately puts said relationship in jeopardy. The mother-daughter conflict is laid out. Sidda has been betrayed by a reporter into airing dirty secrets about her mother, thus alienating her family. Delightful to some, disgusting to others, will be the Jane-Fonda-like depiction of Catholicism, laced with profanity and blasphemies enough. Finally comes the story. The plot device is a trip through the minutia of the Ya-Ya scrapbook. The Ya Ya sisters themselves form a tight-knit, kooky group of long-time friends, but the scraps and letters don't tell all (and can be downright boring). I nearly gave up reading, but decided to skim. Finally, the story does become more absorbing. I found the meat of Vivi's story to be worth reading. That part is spicy, warm, poignant, and insightful, in an Oprah kind of way. The traumas described therein seem very "real," and Vivi is somewhat redeemed; but, lest we come to like her too much, her daughter throws in the obligatory Southern racism. The book has nice moments, though it reads more like a memoir than a novel. Granted, this is not my usual choice of reading material, but the title had given me hope. I was lukewarm about the movie and the book just didn't keep my interest. Still, my opinion shouldn't deter any reader who does love Oprah-like soul searching.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Southern Literature is Part Myth and Part Reality
Southern literature is part myth and part reality, but sometimes I think that the literature is bigger than the South itself. Or maybe the myth has overcome the reality. It really is like Big Fish, where the people are enchanting, and the tales grow taller ~ yet the truth of it finally proves even stranger than fiction. Southern authors have created some memorable characters ~ but then, so has the South! The thing of it is, the characters who are so universally known through film are the ones who, perhaps, represent the real South least of all. It is the characters like Stella-Rondo, Mrs. May and Scofield who seem to live and breathe ~ and all too often, appear in proxy as spectators on the evening news! There are, too, the strong, self-reliant Appalachian people, and they are represented on film, though few and far between.
Labels:
appalachian,
big fish,
myth,
south,
southern literature
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