'Gone with the Wind' by Margaret Mitchell (Chapters 31 - 47)

Note: I'm well into the story now so beware of spoilers. This will be the third of four parts. 

This section deals with the mop-up these Southerners face after losing the war, and different people's adaptability. It begins with the threat of Tara being sold off beneath the O'Hara family's noses because they can't afford the sky high taxes; and the drastic action Scarlett is determined to take to secure her plantation home, whatever the cost to herself may be. Meanwhile, the Confederates' whipped dog status is taking its toll on everyone. 

We get more of the pitiful inner workings of Ashley Wilkes than ever before. He professes how cowardly he feels, and ill-equipped to adapt to the harsh new reality. His personality was a perfect fit for the old world, when he would float around his father's plantation, looking handsome and thinking bookish, philosophical, cultural thoughts. But now that Twelve Oaks is burned and folk everywhere must turn their hands to new, formerly demeaning occupations, his whole life appears redundant. Ashley fails to fit the new brief, whether it's working the ground at Tara or managing a mill in Atlanta. Rhett rubs it in by calling Ashley the sort of guy who was only ever fit to be an ornament at the best of times. 

But who does Ashley really love; Scarlett or Melanie? I picture him as a 'devil on one shoulder and angel on the other' sort of guy. He seems to ruminate on depressing, non-productive thoughts, and could maybe benefit from some of Scarlett's, 'I won't think about that now,' approach. Margaret Mitchell has presented Ashley as a dreamer in the most negative sense of the word. Yet it's still easy to feel sorry for this fish out of water. He needs a stable, 21st century academic job, that's what Ashley needs.  

Meanwhile, Scarlett adopts a polar opposite approach to the man she professes to love so devotedly. After her resolution to never go hungry again, she will do whatever it takes to be a money magnet, whether it's offering herself to be Rhett's mistress for a loan, stealing Frank Kennedy from her sister Suellen, or becoming a cheating, unscrupulous business woman once she gets her sawmills operating. She taps into entrepreneurial brilliance she'd never have needed if not for the War and its aftermath. 'I've found out that money is the most important thing in the world and I'll never be without it again.' 

Scarlett still carries devotion to her mother's gracious memory, but decides to defer being kind and gentle until she's rolling in greenbacks. Woven through the text is a thorny question. Is being successful in the business world incompatible with being a decent, principled person in the traditional sense? Because as Rhett points out, the 'nice' people are currently living in dire poverty. And Scarlett carries proof that her store and sawmills would never thrive without some ruthless or dodgy moves on her part to maintain momentum. The narrator comments that she was 'undimmed by any realisation that she has no desire to be sweet or kind now.' And as Rhett points out, her kindness muscles have probably jumped overboard and suffered a sea change. Dollar signs and sweetness are so often mutually exclusive.

 Scarlett is a female Ebenezer Scrooge, relegating her nearest relatives to second place. A new baby, Ella Lorena Kennedy, is the price she pays for marrying Frank, but Scarlett is clear that the mills are far more important to her than her children could ever hope to be. The ultimate losers are Wade and Ella, born out of Scarlett's spite and necessity respectively. But even though they're shoved to her periphery, at least now they'll never go hungry. 

We're invited to ponder whether or not choosing the guiding star of money means maternal love must inevitably suffer. I remember a meme that popped up on my news feed once. 'Women are expected to work as if we have no children, and raise children as if we had no work.' Perhaps Scarlett, the only business woman in town, is discovering this impossible conundrum for herself. And she makes her choice clear.

Scarlett is never handicapped by Ashley's style of grief for the loss of art, literature or music, for she doesn't care for any of that sappy stuff. The guys in her life know it. Rhett sometimes shakes his head over her ignorance, Ashley admires her practical 'lack of imagination', and her brother-in-law Will knows she was 'never interested in what was in folks' heads.' It's just part and parcel of who Scarlett is.  

Most of the action of this section takes place in Atlanta rather than Tara, but the bits we do get are intriguing, including the Will and Suellen thread. Without giving too much away, Suellen makes an audacious move to try and attain $150 000 from the Yankees, which backfires and sets the neighbours against her. Will tactfully defuses the murderous tension at Gerald's funeral and proposes to Suellen in the bargain. It's a match with clear benefits for both, but I wonder if they'll grow to love each other. 

This section delivers some disgusting and scary Ku Klux Klan incidents indulged in by 'good' guys. Tony Fontaine kills two men on the basis of frenzied, racist hatred, yet Scarlett questions, 'What can we do with devils who'd hang a nice boy like Tony just for killing a drunken buck and scoundrel scallawag to protect his womenfolk?' The evil KKK is presented as a necessity dreamed up by chivalrous chaps whose sole aim is to be knights in shining armour. The mindsets behind history are nowhere as strong as in novels, so I appreciate Gone with the Wind for attempting to help us grasp the unthinkable. (It's quite hilarious when the men are delivered from arrest by Rhett's quick thinking, but must pretend they were customers at Belle Watling's brothel. That bit does make me laugh.)   

Finally, a couple of ladies make amusing analogies. Grandma Fontaine likens Ashley to a turtle lying on his back. Later, Mammy tells Scarlett that she and Rhett are just like mules dressed up as thoroughbred horses. And Scarlett herself shows a flash of insight when she compares Frank to a timid old brown field rabbit. Perhaps these cool metaphors add to the compelling nature of a book which I still have no idea why I'm enjoying so much. Scarlett and Rhett both make me groan, but I must plow on to find out what will happen now that she's all set to become Mrs Butler. It should be smooth sailing for both reckless opportunists, but we all know his infamous closing line. Stay tuned for my last installment, which will take us to the end of the behemoth er, novel, when I will discuss Chapters 48 - 63.