As this book was rising to the top of the New York Times bestseller list, and all my friends were reading and recommending it, I held off reading it because I has so many other books going at the time. I did place my name on the reserve list at the library for it, but as of yet, my turn has not come. So when my mom said that she bought it, I asked her to borrow it. I see what the buzz was about.
Kathryn Stockett, originally from Jackson, Mississippi, wote this book about the life of African-American women who worked as maids/nannies for white families during the 1960’s. It is a work of fiction, but I’m sure stories just like it happened everyday in homes around the country in pre-civil rights times. It was enlightening and horrifying. It was funny and depressing. It was hopeful and devastating. I found myself waiting for the happy ending. I’m still waiting.
Not that all the stories contained in the book were bad. Actually, there were some very uplifting stories about love and devotion between the white families and their black “help”. There were many instances of the white families treating their employees like members of the family, caring for their sick loved ones and paying for their childrens’ college education. But the bad stories more than made up for the good ones.
As much as I would like to believe that this book was entirely fictional, I know that some of these stories mimicked real life. And my heart hurts because of it.
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