Book reviews: ‘Georgia Bottoms' and ‘Friday's Daughter'

Melanie Wilkes and Scarlett O’Hara: The original steel Magnolias. Those twin paragons of womanhood have dominated Southern culture since “Gone With the Wind” was published in 1936. We've always known that Melanie’s example of the patient, soft-spoken, saintly woman was the right one to follow. But it was the man-eating Scarlett, with her flashing Irish eyes and black heart, that we all really wanted to be.

Alabama author Mark Childress (“Crazy in Alabama,” “One Mississippi”) and Patricia Sprinkle, who’s written 20 mysteries and three novels and makes her home in Smyrna, are no strangers to the iconography of “Gone With the Wind.” Both have new books out about women coping with financial setbacks in which these familiar Dixie archetypes pop up more than once -- definitely by design.

Sashaying through Childress' newest, the titular "Georgia Bottoms" is a dead ringer for Scarlett, from the way she charms the pants off every man in her small town of Six Points, Ala., to the creative ways she contends with the loss of her family's fortunes.

To all appearances, Georgia wins the Melanie Wilkes award. At 34, she still lives with her elderly mother, Little Mama, attends church every Sunday and keeps her finger in the proverbial social pie with her lavish, annual “September luncheon,” a gala event so eagerly anticipated that “husbands were said to be jealous that only their wives were invited.” In the evenings, she retires to an apartment over the garage to sew her patchwork quilts, much in demand at the local gift shop. “Everyone in town ... knew to leave her alone in the evenings. That was quilt-making time.”

Quilts-shmilts. Georgia’s most lucrative activity is entertaining her six gentleman callers, one for each night of the week except Monday, her day off. After years of practice, she has it down to a science: No one in town suspects a thing -- and each man believes he’s her only beau, the envelope of money he leaves her only gift.

It goes without saying, no one’s guessed that Georgia’s quilts come from “a bend in the Catfish River where a little settlement of old black women” sell them to her in bulk.

But from the moment Georgia’s Saturday client, Preacher Eugene, nearly confesses their affair from the pulpit -- a disaster Georgia averts with a fainting fit worthy of Aunt Pittypat herself -- her public image begins to unravel. It’s only a matter of time before the basis for everything Georgia has kept hidden from view comes back to bite her: the illegitimate and utterly delightful biracial son who shows up on her doorstep.

One of the most irresistible liars to ever whip up a batch of pimento cheese sandwiches, the irreverent Georgia allows Childress to poke delicious fun at a number of sacred cows, from Rosa Parks to Southern Baptists to 9/11. If the plot is slightly creaky -- the revolving-door customers, the town’s ignorance of Georgia’s past and colorful present -- Childress knows exactly how to distract from it, with an incomparable ear for dialogue and heaps of sexy slapstick.

"Friday's Daughter" introduces another single Southern gal who needs to get resourceful about making a living. Forty-year-old Teensie MacAllester has spent the past 15 years caring for old folks: first her aunt, then her sick mother, and finally, her father. After his death, Teensie expected to inherit his palatial house, its contents, and enough money to fulfill her dream of turning the place into a nursing home.

Instead, the will divides everything up equally between Teensie and her two domineering older sisters, who sweep in to grab everything they can get their hands on -- including the house, which they plan to sell out from under her.

Even Miz Wilkes might be tempted to slap some sense into this mealy-mouthed doormat, whose response to her change in fortunes is to cry herself to sleep, then get up at the crack of dawn to clean the house so it'll be spotless when the appraisers and her thieving sisters arrive.

Instead of calculating a way out, she wastes time painting birdhouses to donate to charity and draws moody pictures of princesses drowning in their own tears. Luckily, she's got a few loyal friends who refuse to let her hand over the whole enchilada. A cagey old judge and his whip-smart lawyer grandson come to her rescue, and a Cherokee patient of Teensie's offers her a place to stay. They help her to realize, finally, that her sacrifices aren’t worth much when wasted on people who don’t need her.

“Friday’s Daughter” spins a few plates of its own, keeping Teensie busy uncovering family secrets, dealing with her scheming "Cinderella"-style sisters, and handling the budding romance with her curmudgeonly but handsome patient. A few too-convenient plot twists toward the end feel as forced as the readings from Cherokee history books Teensie borrows from her boyfriend.

When Teensie despairs over her predicament, she echoes the classic lines from “Gone With the Wind”: “Where would I go?” she pleads. “What would I do?” Her wry humor and steady-as-she-goes determination eventually pull her through, but if Scarlett and Georgia Bottoms could answer, they'd probably suggest putting a hefty price tag on those birdhouses, for starters.

FICTION

"Georgia Bottoms"

Mark Childress