I Love Skeeter

 I have had many chances to read The Help over the long weekend and the past week. I estimate that I have read a little over two hundred pages in the past six days. The Help is the kind of book I can pick up and read for endless amounts of time. The only other books that I have been able to read for hours without boredom are (no judgement here, please) the Twilight series by Stephanie Meyer and The Last Song  by Nicolas Sparks. My reading history is a bit embarrassing. With all of my school work and activities, I love mindless entertainment. Read: lovebird vampires and rebel summer romances.

Speaking of romance, The Help has a small romantic subplot involving Skeeter and Stuart Whitworth. Stuart is Hilly's husband's relative and the son of a state senator. Hilly sets Skeeter and Stuart up on a blind date. Skeeter almost refuses to go because she believes she will not be the "type" of girl Stuart is looking for. Stuart postpones the date for a few months, but Hilly finally organizes the ordeal. After a hilarious sequence in which Skeeter arrives at Hilly's house as a sweaty, frizzy mess from her ride over in a pick-up truck, the party leaves for the restaurant. Stuart ends up being a jerk: he drinks too much, criticizes Skeeter's job, and tells Skeeter she smells like fertilizer. Stuart appears at Skeeter's house a few months later to ask for forgiveness. Skeeter, because she is a strong and independent woman, rejects him at first. However, she eventually agrees to see him and they begin to fall in love. This part of The Help is so lovely that I wish I could dive head first into the story.

The rest of the plot is one million times more important but one million times less pleasant. The racist terror inflicted on the black community of Jackson, Mississippi is sickening. Hilly's condescending remarks to Aibileen about her separate bathroom outside give me a lump in my stomach and Medgar Evers' assassination forced me to close the book to reflect. I've learned about the civil rights movement in history class, but Kathryn Stockett's depiction of life for blacks in the south in the 1960's still shocks and terrifies me. The ignorance of most of the white community is confusing. It is hard for me to understand how people can treat other people with such hate and disgust. I know that history is full of this kind of ignorance and hatred, but I try to believe in the common good of all people. I have a lot of learning ahead of me.