Dimestore by Lee Smith

Dimestore is a collection of essays wherein Lee Smith describes everything from her childhood to the archetype of a fussy southern woman, which Ms. Smith herself certainly is not.

One of the parts I will probably remember longest is her decision to visit the new, gargantuan Walmart which has been invited (yes, invited) into the heart of her Virginia hometown in search of wine to help her cope with all the change she sees around her during her visit. She explains that this will be her only chance to buy alcohol in Grundy because the town fathers drove away a potential Applebee's due to the fact that they serve mixed drinks. There is something shocking and charming about seeing such evil in mediocre, overpriced margaritas.

Smith's nonfiction is incredibly easy to read. It's not simple or unintelligent, but it gives to the reader rather than making demands. The author herself calls the short works which make up the book essays, but the word seems too formal. The essays of such a well-respected author should be weighty things which require highlighting and rereading for one to truly understand them. Right? But each of the stories here is a little flower, already in bloom and self contained, which Smith places in our hand.

Chimes from a Cracked Southern Belle

So, this is a book I was not particularly looking forward to reading. The title and the cover just scream whacky Southern female humor. You know, the kind of book where people are shocked by 87 year-old Grammy who drinks white wine (I feel a stage whisper coming on) before noon. Or where all the girls have a three letter middle name that must be included every time their first name is said.

All this is to say that I was expecting Jenny Sue, Betty Lou, Bixie Lee, and Grammy Joe to go on a road trip and end up sitting on their front porch after learning valuable life lessons and watch the sun come up while sipping white wine and painting magnolia leaves on each others' toenails. The forlorn menfolk look on and shake their heads saying, "Gee golly, now who's gonna fix us our biscuits?" Or something.

Chimes turned out to be a really good book. And as someone who routinely judges a book by its cover, I can say I was very wrong about this one. It is funny and well written. The characters are indeed whacky and Southern, but they are three-dimensional. I didn't cringe once. Because Susan Reinhardt knows how to let her characters get crazy and over the top without for one second making them unbelievable.

It's good enough that my favorite character was named Aunt Weepie. Is that not the most ridiculous name ever? And I still liked her!

The main character is named Prudy and she is far from being the empty soap bubble of a Southern female character I dreaded so much. She is a victim of domestic violence who realizes that many people blame her for her husband's actions, or at least for being stupid enough to marry him in the first place. Prudy, or Dee, as she wants to be called after her "near-murder" is determined to find a job and some independence. She knows her two young children need her to drag herself out of bed everyday and make things normal for them. Prudy/Dee is left scarred and depressed after her husband hits her with his church van and stabs her with a screwdriver. Her story is horrific and unbelievable, but she is based on a woman Reinhardt once met.

The Author's Note says, "The premise of the novel arose from an incident in which a woman was mowed down by a church van driven by her crazed preacher husband...near my hometown of Asheville, North Carolina." Reinhardt doesn't remember the woman's name. Is it odd that she didn't track her down or at least research her story for the novel? Or did she avoid learning any more about the real story behind her character's life so that she could focus on fashioning her own fiction? If I knew where I wanted my story to go and thought the real life events would take me off my chosen path, I'd probably avoid them too.

A couple more fun facts about this book: Reinhardt admits that the photo on the front cover may, in fact, be of her; and the novel opens with a quote from Julia Sugarbaker from Designing Women. What more can you ask for?

The Secret Lives of Dresses

The Secret Lives of Dresses by Erin McKean is not a bad book. It is also not a great book.  It's a lot better than many things that have been published and I thoroughly enjoyed reading it, but if you are looking for something that will challenge you or even make you think just a little, look elsewhere.

Secret Lives is charming and comforting and the twists and turns of the plot should take absolutely no one by surprise. Dora returns home from college when her grandmother, Mimi, suffers a stroke.  She begins running Mimi's vintage clothing shop and reliving memories of growing up amid Mimi's classic dresses and hands-off parenting. The big revelations that come in the last few pages of the book are as easy to spot as a pair of Mary Janes in a sea of Ugg boots.

Gee, I wonder what Dora's father (who was killed with Dora's mother in a car accident years ago) wanted to do instead of run the family department store? Whatever could it have been? And could it possibly have anything to do with Mimi trying her hand at writing fiction??? And why is family friend, Gabby, so giggly and scatterbrained lately?  Oh well, I guess it's just a huge mystery that has nothing to do with her first husband moving back to town.

But these are minor annoyances. They are the kind of things we treasure in books designed to be light and fluffy. The only real bone I have to pick with McKean is her characterization of Camille and Tyffanee, two of Dora's relatives. The author doesn't miss a single opportunity to bash us over the head with how obnoxious and shallow these two are. I mean, they wear rhinestones, for goodness' sake. Obviously, this means they are mean and small-minded and possibly the Anti-Christ. We get it after about the second page, but McKean's hateful descriptions of people who would rather wear layered pink tank tops and miniskirts ends up making you want to defend these women even though Camille is a horror and her daughter is a Grade A certified sorority b****.

The only character McKean paints as even remotely complex enough for us to have trouble figuring out is Gary, Dora's flirty boss at the college coffee shop. Is he as into her as he appears at times or is Dora naively reading too much into a man who seems content to date a different girl every week and foist management of the coffee shop onto Dora? You'll have to wade through a sea of crinoline, tulle, and gingham to find out.  I'm pretty sure you'll enjoy the swim.

I have complained about this book a lot, but it has some very good points. My favorite character is Maux, the Rockabilly salesgirl at Mimi's shop who deserves a book of her own. I want to read more about her Lucille Ball hair and future in air conditioner repair.

PS: If you are craving some truly excellent "secret lives", check out The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd.