Sort of Glad to be “Gone With The Wind”

More than just 979 pages, this 75th Anniversary issue is nearly two inches thick and weighs a few pounds!

By Edward M. Bury, APR, MA (aka The PRDude)

Let’s face it: A serious commitment is required to read a sizeable work of fact or fiction from cover to cover.  One could make the excuse that by page 173, you no longer have interest in the plot; or perhaps the author’s grasp of grammar and syntax fails to compel you to finish another chapter, or even turn the page.

A few days back, I — finally, finally! — finished reading Gone with the Wind, the 1936 novel by Margret Mitchell set in and around Atlanta, Georgia during this nation’s most challenging days in the mid-19th century and over the equally tumultuous the years that followed. 

The 75th Anniversary version I read, shown in the image above, is 979 pages long.  The book, which earned the Pulitzer Prize for fiction in in 1937 and a few years later was made into an Academy Award winning film, is shaped by history, driven by the exploits of its lead characters, often romantic despite the tragedies that took place, and unwavering in depiction of a grandiose way of living for a selected breed of American who technically owned other human beings. 

The author, born in 1900 and a native of Atlanta, tapped into family history in part to craft life and times of plantation heiress Scarlett O’Hara, her immediate family and friends, rogue Rhett Butler, and other Southerners who lived through the horrors of war and its aftermath.  As a first novel, Gone with the Wind, can be ranked among the greatest debut works of modern fiction and certainly one of the greatest American novels. 

And, did I mention, it’s really, really long. 

As a reader, I was captivated by the emerging story line of war, peace, and its aftermath, and the ever-evolving character development, especially the manner in which the clearly highly conceited Scarlett attempts to justify her often disgusting actions as being substantiated due to her pedigree and the plantation way of life.  From an historical perspective, I grew to comprehend that anyone who dwelled in parts of the nation outside the South were Yankees, and I gained a great deal of insight into the many misgivings of the post-war Reconstruction.

From a personal perspective, let me share two recollections that somewhat tie into the novel. Several years ago, I worked for a real estate association which had a broad national membership, including many members who hailed from Southern states.  Here’s what I recall:

1. In a conversation with a gentleman from Alabama, he noted that he was pleased to work with “a Yankee” on a committee. I pointed out that I am a lifelong Chicago Cubs fan; plus, my ancestors hailed from Poland and arrived here in the early 20th century.
2. While in Atlanta for a business trip, a lady who hailed from South Carolina and her husband gave me a short tour while driving to their home for dinner.  “And, there’s Stone Mountain, a monument to those who served in the War of Northern Aggression,” she said.  I just nodded.

From one perspective, based on the two examples above, some members of the Baby Boomer generation still held onto some of the way things were in the South before shots were fired at Fort Sumter. From another perspective, perhaps I interpreted too much by the recollections above. 

Back in 2018, in this space I shared thoughts on the impact of reading Moby Dick, certainly the longest novel (in terms of pages) I had ever read. Gone with the Wind well exceeded Herman Melville’s masterpiece in terms of length, and I found the prose and imagery to be spellbinding at times.

Starting and finishing a long work is an accomplishment, and I’m glad I read Mitchell’s novel.  And, I’m glad I can move onto another work.  Now, I guess I should view the movie. 

Travelogue from 1960 Offers Commentary on The State of the Union Today

By Edward M. Bury, APR, MA (aka The PRDude)

This paperback version of Steinbeck’s non-fiction work features a subdued but inspirational cover.

Now, one month and a few days into the administration of the 47th president of the United States, I felt compelled to offer thoughts on the direction our nation is headed. My initial plan was to pose a range of light-hearted — but poignant and relevant — questions for the president.

An example: If the proposed tariffs on imported goods from Mexico are enacted, and the price of avocados soar, what replacement toppings would you recommend the hipster/foodie crowd put onto toast?

I drafted a few other potentially humorous questions, but came to the realization that it’s quite challenging to craft this kind of prose, especially when I believe the blitzkrieg rate of executive orders and appointments/firings now taking place across a broad scope of government will have potential cataclysmic outcomes for the democracy we now know. A post with a serious tone was needed; the crux of the message came unexpectedly.

A few days ago, a neighbor who I exchange books with dropped off a copy of John Steinbeck’s “Travels with Charley in Search of America,” a best-selling work published in 1962. I certainly knew about the story behind the author’s 1960 cross-country trek in a modified pick up truck accompanied by a French poodle. So, I began reading the work. I found Steinbeck’s writing — more introspective commentary on the state of the nation and the places and the people he encountered than purely travelogue — an engaging read.

Then, around halfway through the book, as the author was at the Continental Divide, he reflected on the purpose of his inland voyage and how he was “briefed, instructed, directed, and brain-washed by many of my friends.”

The paragraph continued: “One among them is a well-known and highly respected political reporter. He had been grassrooting with the presidential candidates, and when I saw him he was not happy, because he loves his country, and he felt a sickness in it. I might say further that he is a completely honest man.

“He said bitterly, ‘If anywhere in your travels you come on a man with guts, mark the place. I want to go to see him. I haven’t seen anything but cowardice and expediency. This used to be a nation of giants. Where have they gone? You can’t defend a nation with a board of directors. That takes men. Where are they?'”

From an historical perspective, Steinbeck took his trip in fall of 1960; that year pitted John F. Kennedy against Richard M. Nixon in the presidential election. I trust you know who won; and perhaps the outcome that November may have factored into the book.

Back to the excerpt above, I have no idea on the identity of the reporter referenced by Steinbeck. And, while “Travels with Charley” sold millions of copies, critics have cited that many of the episodes and conversations detailed during journey were fictional. Yes, he piloted and sometimes slept in a vehicle he named Rocinante, but he also spent many nights in lavish hotels with his wife, and Charley, of course.

Regardless of how one interprets the book, the short passage just presented resonated with me.

With seemingly daily headlines of mass layoffs of federal workers, projections of seizing foreign lands for monetary and political gains, assaults and threats against allies, leadership appointments of individuals with questionable experience and character to major federal departments, and other developments since January 20, I, too feel a “sickness.” I, too have witnessed “cowardice and expediency.” I, too look for the return of “a of nation of giants.”

And, I, too love my country.