“One evening she disappeared from her flat, and no one knew where to find her. I found her, sitting on a bench, and she was crying. And she had her jewels in her arm. And she was rocking her jewels like a baby. And she was crying.”
In which I do a not-so-dramatic reading of one of my favorite passages from Margaret Mitchell’s Gone with the Wind in support of Banned Books Week 2012. This novel happens to be my favorite of all time, and it has been frequently challenged by censors for its depictions of slavery, its free use of the word “nigger” and Scarlett O’Hara’s loose morals, among other things.
I’m currently on my 4th read through of Mitchell’s novel - the last one was eight years ago - and I still love it for its brilliant imagery, fleshed-out characters, even pacing and compelling story
I do like you tremendously- for the elasticity of your conscience, for the selfishness which you seldom trouble to hide, and for the shrewd practicality in you which, I fear, you get from some not too remote Irish-peasant ancestor.
I’m currently reading this book for the 4th time in my life and am loving every bit of it