Look out! Duck! It's another one o' them dastardly Christian novels! Because of certain themes well covered by The Secret Life of Bees, I'm going to split this review into two posts, the second being about social politics. Here's the first, which is about real things.
It's the year 1964. Our white-skinned heroine, Lily Owens, has turned fourteen. It was the best of times, because the Civil Rights Act has just been signed (That's the federal mandate doing away with Jim Crow Laws and enforcing the right to vote regardless of race or ethnicity. There was probably more to the story, but it's not covered in this book, and my memory for history is notoriously bad.) It was also the worst of times, because a culture of racism is still alive and kicking (among other things... sorry). Lily's caretaker and role model, a black woman named Rosaleen, goes to town to exercise her new rights, and finds herself beaten and in jail. Lily takes action into her own hands by fleeing from her abusive father, freeing Rosaleen, and running off in search of the origins of her long-dead mother, whom Lily accidentally killed as a toddler. The fugitive pair are taken in by a trio of wild and crazy bee-keeping black women, who teach Lily a new perspective on spirituality while gradually helping her to discover a painful past.
Here's one of my first reactions to this book: it should be taught in middle school or high school. I'm not trying to devalue it, even though those kinds of booklists are frequently catered toward kids who don't want to be in class as well as the ones interested in reading. But there are many things that make The Secret Life of Bees right for the role. First: the writing style is not obscure or overly subtle. One of the most impressive aspects of Kidd's writing is that she is able to create intricate, flowing description without losing the fourteen year-old girl's narrative voice. Second: the main character is the right age. She's a strong, realistic girl, instead of an unrelatable narrator. Third: it's historical. The Civil Rights Act, the space race, Johnson vs. Goldwater, and some more are good lesson spearheads that enter the plot. Fourth: it's damn good.
If there's one aspect of a book I enjoy more than complex characters, it's complex symbolism. The Secret Life of Bees' symbolism revolves around (you guessed it) bees, which are connected both with the nuclear feminine society and with feminine spirituality. I have mixed feelings about the structure of these relationships, but my overall opinion is positive.
For those not in the know, Christianity carries with it a Marian tradition based around the adoration of Mary, the Mother of Jesus. As far as I know, this is true even of denominations that don't emphasize sainthood in the same way as Roman Catholicism. Like Jesus, Mary was born free of original sin and was assumed body and soul into Heaven. We don't worship her or any of the saints, but we look to her and study her life as the best example of how to live. The Daughters of Mary in The Secret Life of Bees portray her as a black woman because, as one of the characters says, "Everybody needs a god who looks like them." Although I take personal issue with the phrasing, I love the sentiment. I've heard of people who, even recently and in such tolerant lands as New York, have been offended by pictures of a black Jesus or who say Jesus is American, and they're not setting themselves up for much sympathy.
This brings me back to the symbolic structure. The Daughters of Mary are a spiritual and social society created by the bee-keeping women who shelter and mentor our heroines. They create their own hybrid religion which, in the words of our charming narrator, "would make the Pope keel over right there," but which has quite a bundle of good ideas. August Boatwright, the closest mentor to Lily, is a genius for all the answers she has for every question. She's the only unrealistic character by being too perfect, but I enjoyed reading her anyway. All of her bee facts are relevant both to Lily's predicament and to her perception of the Blessed Mother. If the queen dies, the hive becomes despondent and unproductive; the women of the world depend on the guidance of Mary; Lily's emotional turmoil is all based on the death of her mother. I also thought that Lily's familial world was a bit too mired in absolutes; she and her father are both unnecessarily fixated on her dead mother, and her father is crazier than most supervillains. But again, these exaggerations do not detract from the book's high enjoyability.
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