Tag: true story

Review: Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

Making an effort to post a review every Friday!

Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt

I remember seeing the film in 1997 and it stuck with me, it was a book I always intended to go back and read at some point but kept falling through the cracks. It seems to me now that the film is a faithful adaptation of the novel, though it is limited in what could be presented in a visual medium. There are details of the book that I think might even have eluded Berendt himself—reported comments made by individuals about queer characters which seemed inoffensive to the author but which a different eye might know were barbs. I had some flinching moments, reading this book 28 years on, discussing a crime that occurred in the 1980s, particularly with how queer and POC characters were addressed. However, in equal measure, I learned a few things about representation of queer and POC characters that would never have been discussed in my scope of knowledge. There was a specific point at which the narrator is researching and unable to find an account of someone, and is caught up on segregation practices in newspapers—a detail which has stuck with me as one of many, many factoids which people nowadays deny or have never heard of. And I think that was the purpose of including. The whole book is about perspective and hypocrisy.

The book is classified as non-fiction, but not. It is a narrative of real events which the narrator/author was investigating, the actual slaying of Danny Hansford and the individuals involved in the case. Berendt provides a skewed first hand account of events as he ingratiated himself as an outsider into the culture and personalities of Savannah, Georgia.

While the book is classified as non fiction, there are elements altered from the true story for the purpose of storytelling, causing the book to be referred to as a non-fiction novel. Berendt included stories and characters that were interesting or which did take place, regardless of if they impacted the central focus of the murder trial, for the sake of story telling. Added elements didn’t impact the outcome or course of the trial and so are considered just an illustration of the culture contributing to the crime. Ultimately it’s a series of true-ish events told out of sync with reality. And it’s entertaining. It’s an interesting snapshot that centers Savannah itself as a character by way of showing off it’s varied personalities. Calling the characters quirky or eccentric feels overdone; this isn’t quirky, it’s nearer to an alien observing earthlings.

There is a reason that this story and the way it was told stuck with people.

He came to the door and knocked against the screen. 

“That you, Chief?”

“Well I’ll be goddamned, Spinner?”

“How are you doing, old man?”

“Oh, Christ. Don’t ask me that,” He laughed. “Lee Spinner, my god. How have you been, boy?”

“Good, sir, good. I heard you were out here on Tamp and I said, by god, he finally sold the place on Wincrest.”

“I did, I did. Almost ten years now.”

“Well shit.”

“Where you been, Spinner?”

“Did thirty, sir, you may recall.”

“Is that so?”

“You may recall.”

“I was sure you would have gotten out sooner.”

“Well I did, sir, but then when I got out I just went an’ did it again three more times.”

“You did, Lee?”

“Oh yes, sir. You wasn’t fire chief anymore then.”

“No, I suppose I wasn’t.”

“What happened, sir?”

“Oh, I had to get out, Lee. Terrible business with a family of six. The whole house gone up.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir.”

“That’s all right, Lee. Shit, nothing to do with you.”

“I appreciate that, Chief, I appreciate that. I have to say, I’m sure glad to see you.”

“Well thank you, Lee. It’s nice seeing you.”

“You sure about that, Chief?”

“Of course!”

“Well gee, Chief, that’s awful nice of you.”

“Anytime, anytime. You get to be my age, all your friends dying off, I’ll tell you, I appreciate a familiar face.”

“Gosh, sir.”

“You want to stay for dinner? My oldest comes around in about an hour and brings me supper. Sundays is chicken.”

“No, sir, I really oughta get going, I just thought I’d stop in and say hello when I heard you was out here.”

“Well I’m glad you did, Lee. You don’t burn any more barns on your way out.”

“I’ll do my best, Chief. You know me.”

Review: Wave

Making an effort to post a review every Friday!

Wave

Wave is a memoir by Sonali Deraniyagala about the loss of her sons, husband, best friend, and parents in the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami.

I was compelled to read this almost by strange stroke of fate. I had gone down a rabbit hole looking things up online doing grief research and someone mentioned it off hand in a comments section, and about five hour later I had bought and read the whole thing. I am putting this under the book review area, but really it could just as easily belong under psychology if I wanted to really delve into this work as a piece about grief. But I think I’d rather do Sonali Deraniyagala the service of making this about her. There’s this terrible urge to be magnanimous when we talk about grief and not focus on the individual shapes that grief takes. There was a review I came across while hyperfixating on this story that called Wave an unsentimental account of…I’ll stop there. What the fuck does that mean? This book is dripping with sentiment, just not in the preconceived Victorian tinted melodrama of loud wailing for prescribed lengths of time, as though your loved ones will stop being dead in six months. This book is an absolutely beautifully written account about an unimaginable amount of suffering and this woman somehow is still alive. Surviving a cataclysmic event does not end with the event, and Wave illustrates that very honestly. 

One of the things Deraniyagala discusses that most stuck with me is this notion of….when do you tell someone? How do you explain to someone new, someone you haven’t seen in a long time who asks how you’ve been, ‘oh, uh, well actually’. Wave talks a lot to the isolation that comes with trauma and the uniqueness of individual experience, because it’s individuals that are being lost.