“Wasn't that the point of the book? For women to realize, We are just two people. Not that much separates us. Not nearly as much as I'd thought.” - Kathryn Stockett, The Help
I did not read The Help when it first appeared on shelves in 2009. I did not read The Help when the movie came out in theaters last year and then swept the Academy Awards (in case you were wondering, that was me, from my living room, screaming for Octavia Spencer when she won). It isn't as though I didn't try to read The Help. The universe kept getting in my way.
Or should I say the "hold list" at my local library. It is a small library (which is a tough pill for me to swallow, since I grew up near one of the most beautiful and largest libraries in the state) and there were only so many copies available to its patrons. After months of waiting on the list, I gave up. And then proceeded to complain to anyone who was listening. My best friend, another avid, obsessive reader, finally grew tired of my constant mumbles and grumbles and handed me her copy when I attended her 4th of July party. "Here," she told me. "I'm putting this by the door. Do NOT leave without it." That night, after a great day of good food, fireworks, and homemade ice cream cake, I went home with The Help.
In about five days I finished the book. I couldn't put it down. I laughed, I cried...I watched the movie a couple more times.