Introducing my whirlwind tour of Gone with the Wind, a novel so bulky it could double as a doorstop - but don’t let that scare you off. Beneath the swirling hoop skirts and endless Southern soirées lies a tale of survival that’s as gritty as it is glamorous. In this post, I’m trading the romance for reality, the corsets for courage, and diving headfirst into what it really takes to survive - not just in the 1860s, but in any world that refuses to go easy on you. Buckle up: it’s going to be fiery, complicated, and entirely unforgettable.
Margaret Mitchell’s Gone with the Wind (1936) holds a defining place in American literature. Set in 1860s Atlanta, Mitchell confronts the turmoil of the Civil War era through its headstrong protagonist, Scarlett O’Hara.
What first seems to be a tale of adolescent dramas and petty romances soon becomes a story of raw survival, with universal values of love, home and family all riding upon the shoulders of the Southern Belle. Along with her coming of age, we also see the rise, and crumble, of Southern society over just twelve turbulent years.
However, portraying history is never without controversy. With its problematic depictions of race, critics rightfully agree that time has enabled the cracks to show (and the 1939 film sure didn’t help). Yet these flaws coexist with a wealth of themes that make the story so compelling. I'd love to explore them all, but let’s face it… my blog would be as dense as the book itself. I'd much rather delve deeper into specifics over exploring multiple topics that are abruptly cut off, doing them no justice. So I’ll investigate survival today - a bulky subject that isn’t often the point of discussion. In other words, I myself have to do the digging. And dig I shall.
Initial thoughts...
Firstly, Mitchell herself stated that “if Gone With The Wind has a theme it is that of survival”. In every upheaval, it’s accordingly “gumption” that distinguishes those that triumph from those that don’t. So of course our Southern Belle had to be a particularly fiery one, and as a result, she’s deemed a social outcast. Yet when it’s a matter of life and death, everyone seems to cling to her skirts. My biggest recollections?
- Too many characters perished
- Mitchell drew upon Darwin's 'Survival of the Fittest'
- Scarlett and Melanie depended upon each other, despite being arch-rivals
These responses will be examined in more depth throughout the blog, assessing their impact on the plot and audiences through time.
A Modern Response
As a young adult with little knowledge of the story, I jumped onto the bandwagon with a completely unbiased lens, avoiding watching the film before and knowing little about its reputation. What’s known as a ‘bulky’ book with over 1,000 pages, I found myself breezing through a hundred a day. And that wasn’t (entirely) due to lockdown.
Still an art student at the time, I incorporated my newly found interest of GWTW into a second passion - that’s how much it stuck with me. Indeed, my acrylic portrait (right) encompasses the soppy romantic elements that the film portrays so heavily, but who can resist with such an iconic still?
Enough beating around the bush. Let’s delve into the nitty-gritty content of the ‘timeless classic’, reversing back to 1860s Atlanta, Georgia.
Survival of the Fittest?
Undeniably, many of us got caught off-guard by the numerous deaths lurking either at the ends of chapters, or jumping out when least expected. Some I initially thought were unnecessary, but brace yourselves, there is a biological explanation over why some of our favourite characters were put under the knife.
Darwin himself taught us that in any social/environmental change, “It is not the strongest or the most intelligent who will survive but those who can best manage change”– something called ‘survival of the fittest’. It’s up to us readers to distinguish such qualities in characters and why Mitchell assigned them specifically.
Take Scarlett, for example: “If I have to steal or kill - as God is my witness, I’m never going to be hungry again” (Mitchell, 341). This epitomises her coming of age from a selfish brat to a (still selfish, but) resilient woman, hence why it’s so iconic. If you want to survive in such a world, Mitchell suggests that morals must be cast aside.
“She’s thought of as a harlot, a villain, a Lady Macbeth. The truth is that Scarlett is something far simpler: she’s a survivor” (Borders).
Indeed, our heroine becomes an accomplished businesswoman after setting back to Atlanta in hope of restoring her beloved Tara. Knowing that farming will get her nowhere financially, she hastily marries Frank Kennedy (her sister’s beau!) to buy a lumber mill. Now that takes balls… great balls of fire, one might say.
According to Kristin Devine, “portraying female antiheroes with legitimate character flaws is totally feminist”. Especially one that subverts the gender expectations – picking up the slack when the men go off to war. Does stealing and manipulation make her a strong role model for female readers? No… but what’s inspiring is her drive, marching blindly through life in the face of adversity. Equally, Rhett makes money from blockading and speculating, so both protagonists are deliciously villainous. Why? Because the writer needed them to survive.
Ashley and Melanie, however, are the complete opposite. Prioritising love and family puts them at the heart of social events where they are adored by everyone, including readers through time. This, however, comes at the price of adapting to new lifestyle demands. Ashley is rendered hopeless after the war, dwelling too much on a past that he’ll never get back. Melanie is more adaptable but lacks the fortitude Scarlett possesses, mentally and physically.
Perhaps Mitchell suggests that in desperate times, it’s not the “good” characters who thrive. Instead, it’s those who beg, steal and manipulate who are renewed from the corruption of a civilisation. She, playing God, doesn’t care if your favourite character deserves to live. Although the numerous deaths seem to be a drawback of the book, I’ve come to the realisation that it heightens the realism by validating the Darwinian theory: survival of the fittest.
Don't call me sugar
I’ve mentioned some feminism… not often associated with the book, but equally important to consider in terms of survival. What better way to explore it than the convoluted relationship between Scarlett and Melanie? It’s an epic conflict, it’s the equivalent of today’s “Team Edward VS Team Jacob”, it’s… completely unknown by one of the leading parties. And guess which one.
So what’s the significance of such contrasting heroines? Firstly, they share almost every experience, from escaping the Fall of Atlanta, to killing a guy, heck, even practically sharing a man. Enjoy the family photo (right). Indeed, Rhett helps them on the first occasion, but with Scarlett’s fierce drive and Melanie serving as her conscience (if you like), they are pretty much unstoppable. So their differences make them stronger, and admit it, we’ve all considered who we relate to more. Any friendship most likely consists of a Scarlett and a Melanie, so relatability is another example of the novel’s timelessness.
Behold, Ye Olde Love Triangle.
As much as he appears to be, Ashley isn’t actually the one third wheeling here.
*SPOILER ALERT*
Unfortunately, one heroine thrives, whereas the other does not. I thought Mitchell took it a step too far on this one as the story came to a close. Only upon deep consideration can we recognise the writer’s purpose for breaking our hearts, and not just due to survival of the fittest. It takes Melanie to *sobs* die for Scarlett to realise not only how much she relied on Melanie, but also how her love for Ashley was all an illusion. “I made a pretty suit of clothes and fell in love with it” (Mitchell, 809). There had to be some form of punishment for marrying multiple times, pursuing a married man, and of course murder. So whilst Scarlett survived, she was condemned to guilt for the rest of her life. It raises the question of whether she was actually living, or just merely surviving. Aware I may be walking on thin ice here, I did sympathise when Scarlett accepts her punishment and chooses not to lay the burden on Melanie’s “innocent heart” (Mitchell, 754). In ways it provides hope of her character progression by putting Melanie’s influence into practice at the end. Perhaps morals are key, after all. So they were interdependent; Scarlett’s “gumption” got Melanie through the fall of civilisation, and “Melly’s love buoyed her” (Borders).
Therefore, the writer uses her heroines to highlight how equally courageous women had to be during wartime. Using a female voice wasn’t typical of historical fiction, let alone depicting a woman’s experience of war. Kudos to the men for fighting, but what about women when it literally came knocking at their doorstep? Despite being written about 70 years later, Mitchell’s novel resonated with female readers just before WWII (when it was released), who shared similar anxieties of maintaining the home and taking on more “masculine” roles. Equally, male readers were provided insight into perspectives that weren’t often considered, so themes of survival were extremely relevant.
Blowing up the Canon...
However, my fellow bookworms, are such themes relevant today? Well, stereotypes still exist, and humans remain as imperfect as ever. So Mitchell’s characterisation continues to be relatable, even if society has (somewhat) developed. After all, timelessness is a huge aspect of the literary canon. But that’s not to say some aspects aren’t outdated, particularly in terms of culture. I’ve mentioned before that this would take a whole other blog to explore in depth, but it’s still crucial, nonetheless.
An overjoyed (?) Margaret Mitchell, flaunting her masterpiece (1936).
With such a bulky novel comes many themes, some presented more successfully than others. So the book itself shouldn’t be classified as being either ‘good’ or ‘bad’, given that literature is subjective. That’s why I believe it’s better to pick an aspect and consider all the approaches and explanations. It’s understandable that Mitchell was criticised for portraying a time she didn’t experience. But being from Atlanta herself, she wove many of her own life events into the story, including when she tended to fire victims in 1917, just as her heroines do. Such autobiographical elements help increase the realism. It was due to exploration of survival that I also encountered many examples of femininity, upon which Mitchell revolutionised the literary canon. Firstly as a woman (raised by a suffragist), secondly by addressing controversial themes, and thirdly with a defiant female protagonist.
Another way of shaking up the canon is the novel’s subversion from your typical narrative structure. As much as we hate it, no one truly gets their ‘happy ending’, and Scarlett’s return to Tara at the end doesn’t count. There’s hope, however, that having learnt her lesson, she can move on from the vicious Ashley cycle and do what she does best… survive. The absence of a true resolution reminds us that a corrupt civilisation can’t just be magically restored. It’s historical fiction, so despite some of Mitchell’s accuracy being questionable elsewhere, she didn’t go off the rails when it came to the storyline.
Conclusion
Anyone with delicate sensibilities, don’t read this book. But if you’re interested in the human condition and the lengths taken to ensure survival, read it. Yes, some aspects are ‘of their time’… but doesn’t that apply to everything written before today? Society is forever evolving, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t acknowledge history, or bury this book along with the parts we’re ashamed of. In the words of James Loewen, “Should we teach it? Of course. Should we teach against it? Of course”.
Through her protagonist, Mitchell reminds us that humans are sinful, selfish and disloyal, rather than portraying a perfectly behaved Southern Belle. Firstly, it would be totally boring, secondly, she wouldn’t survive and thirdly (most crucially), it would glorify humanity – which would be rather hypocritical, given how war certainly didn’t end there. Ultimately, considering themes of survival enable us to appreciate the realism. After all, Scarlett could not single-handedly end the war, and no, she didn’t end up with her handsome prince. Why? Because this is survival, folks; Mitchell’s characters are just as ordinary as you and I. Despite its quirks, GWTW is sure to thrive… after all, tomorrow is another day.
Works Cited
Borders, Meredith. ‘The Strength Of Two Women In Gone With The Wind’ Birth. Movies.
Death, 2013. https://birthmoviesdeath.com/2013/11/15/the-strength-of-two-women-in
gone-with-the-wind. Accessed 23 Dec. 2020.
Devine, Kristin. ‘Gone With the Wind: The Great American Feminist Novel.’ Ordinary
Times, 2020. https://ordinary-times.com/2020/02/16/gone-with-the-wind-feminist-
novel-american. Accessed 22 Dec. 2020.
Loewen, James. ‘Debunking History’ U.S. History, 2000.
https://www.ushistory.org/us/historians/loewen.asp. Accessed 29 Dec. 2020.
Lombardi, Esther. ‘Plot and Main Characters of Margaret Mitchell's "Gone With the Wind".’
ThoughtCo, 2020. thoughtco.com/gone-with-the-wind-book-summary-739924.
Accessed 28 Dec. 2020.
Mitchell, Margaret. Gone With The Wind. 1936. Ed Macmillan London Limited. Macmillan
edition,1992.
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