Mae Mobley was born on a early Sunday morning in August, 1960.
There was a book before the film. And yes, this is another one for college. Also another one I prefer over The Catcher in the Rye.
It’s the segregation years of the sixties in the USA. White women are housewives, black women are housemaids. They are expected to do everything, but are rewarded by little to no appreciation and always have being fired hanging over them. The majority of them are little more than paid slaves, which is something that Skeeter also discovers when she comes up with the idea to write the stories of housemaids. It doesn’t land well with a lot of people.
In the book there’s not just Aibileen’s point of view, but also Minny’s, and Skeeter’s. With the first two the reader gets two different minds and views on the same subjects, while Skeeter is the alien out.
The Help is such an easy read that when the uglier subjects pop up and disasters happen, it almost shocks you out of the pale pastels and superficial happiness everyone seems to abide by.
I expect I have to read it for the vocabulary used, I read it to discover if it was less coddling than the film. It was.
The Help, Kathryn Stockett, Penguin Group 2009
Aren’t there documentaries with happy/happier subjects? Of course there are, but isn’t a documentary supposed to educate? About things that may not be a day-to-day subject for a lot of people? I think 13th is smack right on that with it being about the USA prison system and how black people suffer from it.
This isn’t an emotional appeal, this is layers and layers of facts and numbers and statistics showing how authorities use everything in their power to control the minority population. How there’s no equality in punishment for the same crime, how there’s no fairness and that believing in the system is more than naive, it might be lethal.
It’s the strength of the people featured that prevent you from completely circling down the drain of ‘Is this really society’. People that keep speaking up, that keep fighting, the Davids to the many-headed Goliath.
Ignorance is not an argument. Know what’s wrong.
13th, Netflix 2016
Son, last Sunday the host of a popular news show asked me what it meant to lose my body.
Required reading, indeed.
Coates gives the reader a view of his world, one he shares with a lot of black Americans. It’s a letter to his son, it’s a reality check for everyone outside this world.
A world in which your body isn’t your own. In which there is no safety from society, authority, their own surroundings. In which police violence isn’t just two years old and a news item, but a reality you grow up in.
It’s plenty of ugly truths, but Coates’ love for his son, his family and his people (the people the rest of society only wants to use, not accept) prevents this letter turning into a wall of tears.
We have to know this angle, because ignorance supports a status quo that doesn’t include every human being.
Between The World And Me, Ta-Nehisi Coates, Spiegel & Grau 2015
Lydia is dead.
This is one of those books that you just stare into the distance for a while after finishing it.
Still, that doesn’t necessarily make it easy to review. Because, the bare bones of it, it’s a very simple story. A daughter dies, a family completely unravels. It’s the time (seventies/eighties), the people (a mixed Asian-American family) and the family members (hurt, unwanted, invisible) that make the story.
Ng makes you want to reach out through the pages all the time, simultaneously hugging the family members and giving them a kick in the behind because seriously, how can one human being be so selfish, insecure, loving and hating? And honestly, can small town America stop making a freaking fuss about people that don’t have blond hair and blue eyes?
It’s her so very human touch to these characters that leave you uncomfortable yet appeased.
Everything I Never Told You, Celeste Ng, Blackfriars 2014
Two days after I turned fourteen the son of our neighbor set his stepmother alight.
A love story between black and white against the back drop of the rise and fall of Zimbabwe. Four hundred pages and a few decades to show that wishes and dreams aren’t enough to uphold reality.
Zimbabwe was the African country that was going to be a great success. They had the resources, they had a sane government, and in comparison to neighbor South Africa, changes went pretty swimmingly. Until they didn’t.
That Zimbabwe went from great to a corrupted, dangerous mess isn’t news (or so I hope). In how many ways it went wrong might be. The Boy Next Door shows the very human story of being judged by your history, your skin color and your gender. And even when you do share those treats with your family, loved ones or neighbors, it doesn’t mean that your life will be easier for it. That – even when outsiders (in this case a lot of French people) – try to help, it doesn’t necessarily has to give good, or even any, results.
It’s easy to forget that the majority of people in such countries are the ordinary ones that just want to live their lives with an education, a job, a family of their own. This book shows it without shoving it into your face.
The Boy Next Door, Irene Sabatini, Sceptre 2010