Rhett Butler's People

Currently, with the help of my trusty eBook that I got for Christmas, I stumbled across a new book that caused to my heart to beat faster than when Myrtle got run over by a car in the fateful chapter 7 of The Great Gatsby, which, if you know anything about me, is saying something.

The book I stumbled across was one called Rhett Butler’s People. Now, if you have never graced the pages of the great American classic, Gone with the Wind, you can never understand why this title captured me like it did. I discovered Gone with the Wind in eighth grade when a friend of mine said she was trying to read the 1024 page-long epic, and I, not to be outdone, decided that I, too, needed to read it. I still remember the first time I tried to read that first very long chapter; I thought I was going to die of boredom, but my competitive nature kept me plodding along, slow and sluggish until Miss Scarlett O’Hara swung her hoop skirts in the towering pillars of Twelve Oaks and met caught Mr. Rhett Butler’s eye and said to herself, “God’s nightgown!...He looks as if –as if he knew what I looked like without my shimmy.”
From then on, I have been a Rhett Butler groupie.

I loved how Rhett was described as a malicious tomcat, a man too muscular to be a gentleman, and a swarthy pirate. I thrilled when Scarlett, having a temper tantrum in the library, threw a figurine across the room after the genteel Ashley Wilkes told her could not marry her, only to be surprised when Mr. Butler, a man rumored to “not be received,” popped his head up from behind the couch. It was just so cool! And then when she says, “Sir, you are no gentleman,” and Rhett replies, “An apt observation…and you, Miss, are no lady,” my heart just about dies with the agony that Scarlett O’Hara is such and idiot that she doesn’t jump him right then and there, forget the wanny-pants Ashley Wilkes.

Needless to say, when I stumbled across a newly written companion book to Gone with the Wind, I was thrilled. Especially in that Rhett Butler's People isn’t really a sequel to Gone with the Wind (the last attempt at a sequel being really, really, really bad—like Rosanne Barr trying to follow up Celine Dione in a concert), but rather, the love affair told from that swarthy pirate’s own point of view. I approached the book knowing that the author, Donald McCaig, had a really huge responsibility ahead of him, and to not expect too much. I was pleasantly surprised by the first few chapters, intrigued by the past that up till now had been very mysterious. Halfway through the eighth chapter, I decided that I needed to read these books side-by-side, in order to get the full affect of the he-said-she-said feeling that I enjoyed.

So I downloaded Gone with the Wind on the eBook, even though I have a (very battered) copy at home. I wanted to be able to switch back and forth with ease—and I began reading. Again, just like every time, I wished I were the cat-eyed belle with a 17 inch waist so I could be looked at like he knew what I looked like without my shimmy. And then I flipped to Rhett Butler’s People and began to read Rhett’s side of the account.

I have always pictured Rhett as laughing at Miss Scarlett because of her petty games and attracted to only her body. I really did think that Rhett Butler, a man of experience, knew what Scarlett looked like “without her shimmy.” So it was only natural that when I read, “Hope welled up in Butler like a healing spring…His heart slowed. He looked away, smiling at himself. It had been a long time since he’d made a fool of himself over a woman,” that I was extremely disappointed. No, no, no! Rhett is supposed to be the one person who doesn’t fall in love with Scarlett at first sight! He is supposed to regard her as a silly child to laugh at, to mock, and to lust after. He’s not supposed to fall in love with her until later when he finds that he can’t forget that silly thing without an ounce of brains.

I would have been much more satisfied if Mr. Butler, being the rascal that he is supposed to be, would have just thought Scarlett was nothing more than a nice piece of ass—that is, until she threw that stupid thing at his head in the library. Then he could have justifiably fallen in love with her, thinking, “Now that’s a woman!” In fact, the original text supports my expectations: later when he proposes to Scarlett, he says, “I always intended having you, Scarlett, since that first day I saw you at Twelve Oaks when you threw that vase and swore and proved that you weren’t a lady. I always intended on having you one way or another.” See? He doesn’t get all sentimental and sappy on the steps at Twelve Oaks. It’s later, in the library! Donald McCaig’s version took all the mystique of Rhett Butler, his charm and his swarthy pirate-ness, away from him. It made him just as bad as stupid old Charles Hamilton and that pansy Ashley Wilkes.
Although, on the other side of things, and to give McCaig a little credit, I was impressed at Mr. McCaig’s attention to detail. He did place every incident where it was supposed to be, and got most of the conversations right. And, he did give Rhett a good reason for laughing at Miss Scarlett under the Oak tree, so I wasn’t totally disappointed. But still!...

I guess the fact that the book sets Rhett’s sentimental nature in the forefront rather than his “to hell with ‘em” attitude I had always loved took the wind out of my groupie sails. It was just like finding out that Clark Gable had really bad breath, or that JFK had an affair with Marilyn Monroe, or that Carey Grant might have been gay, or that Miss Lehi was pregnant (a revelation that thoroughly caused me to lose all faith in humanity when I was in elementary school—if Miss Lehi could fall, anyone could fall). An illusion, a beautiful, wonderful illusion, had been shattered for me, has been shattered for me, and I am quite upset about it. I mean, Rhett Butler was my model in what I wanted in a man.

My first ever attempt at real annotation was in the pages where Rhett proposes after Scarlett has gotten her second husband killed. In that dashing way of his, Rhett kisses her, and after she asks him to stop because he’s "making her faint" with his fantastic moves, he proclaims, "I want to make you faint. I will make you faint. You’ve had this coming to you for years. None of the fools you’ve known have kissed you like this—have they? Your precious Charles or Frank or your stupid Ashley--…I said your stupid Ashley. Gentlemen all—what do they know about women? What did they know about you? I know you.” And then (get this) he proceeds to kiss Miss Scarlett O’Hara Hamilton Kennedy most inappropriately in the parlor of Miss Pitty-Pat’s home in such a way that her knees cease to work, and she agrees to marry him.
I had underlined this scintillating passage with a red sparkly gel pen when I re-red the book my sophomore year and scrawled in the margins, “I want to be kissed like this!” Little did I know that my current crush was more of an Ashley Wilkes than a Rhett Butler. (Joe’s kissing falls in the Rhett Butler department. Hence the wedding).

I cut my literary-analysis teeth on Gone with the Wind, particularly Rhett Butler. And then I find this book, this Rhett Butler's People, and it has upset me so dramatically that I tossed and turned with the indecency of a "soft" Rhett Butler that I was compelled to write this rant at 2:23 in the morning.

But, despite my protests, I will continue reading, because even though some of the image is shattered, there is still plenty Scarlett/Rhett romance moments where Mr. McCaig can try to redeem himself. And the allure of Rhett, no matter how botched in this new version, is still too strong for me. So this is probably not the first "RhettRant" to be gracing my blog in the future. Prepare yourself.