The Secret Life of Bees

The Secret Life of Bees


Sorry, Ladies, I’m still not happy!

I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy The Secret Life of Bees. I went into a time warp with it, and enjoyed it the same way that I enjoyed books when I was a girl. It was lovely to relive that uncritical relaxing into a tale. I missed my hammock. But at the end, my adult self re-emerged and asked, “What exactly did this book have to say that was new?”

Yes, the plot was well-woven. Yes, the characters were adequately drawn so that I could believe that the actions they did were reasonable, and in keeping with their prior actions. And certainly, yes, the setting was authentic. The author returned to her roots and wrote about what she knows. There was a lot that was technically good about the book.

It reminded me of To Kill a Mockingbird. And it was in comparing it to that classic that I realized why this book did not satisfy me. Both are coming-of-age books set in the civil rights movement in the deep South. But what a difference! The civil rights movement was just window-dressing for this new novel. In To Kill a Mockingbird, it was integral to the story.

Ultimately, this book seems superficial to me. It’s a nice book for feminists because the female characters are strong, and the only fleshed-out male character is T-Ray, that unsympathetic T-Rex of a father. Even Zach, the boyfriend, is just brought in to accomplish certain plot twists, and then he pales out. Mostly the men in the book are used to drive the wagons.

It’s a good book for women who are interested in feminine mysticism. But the Pieta says more to me about the female side of God than the piece of driftwood which is called, “Mary” in this novel. I don’t think that we have a very deep examination of the nature of God here.

So how did this book move me, inform me, challenge me? Not at all, really. It would seem to be set in momentous times, dealing with important issues: coming-of-age, female strength, mental illness, child abuse. All the politically correct issues are there. But nothing new or profound was added to the discussion. It reminds me of the saccharine Christianity which I suspect inspires its author. Ultimately, this book fails to contribute anything new to literature or to the issues which it raises.
E*