It takes quite some courage to write a book (and a 1000-pager on top of it) with a selfish, shallow, profit-driven main character. But Margaret Mitchell does it. Even the best thing is: she does it só well that Scarlett isn’t even detestable. Somehow, you can understand her motives, you know what’s driving her to act like she acts, and that makes her likable in spite of all her flaws.
When I started the book, I expected it to be a slushy romance, a bit kitsch. To blame for this expectation was especially the blurb stating the work to be “The greatest romance of all time”. Well, that’s debatable, to my humble opinion. If you consider Wuthering Heights a romance, then this is certainly is!
Rather it is a fantastic historical novel combined with a coming-of-age story. I’ve got a weakness for American history, and after having read books like The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Uncle Tom's Cabin or Twelve Years a Slave, I found it exceedingly interesting to learn about the opposite perspective for once. It taught me – once again – that history is never black or white.
Margaret Mitchell knew her stuff, undoubtedly, and she knew people, too. Her main characters never get predictable: think of Rhett’s sudden decision to enlist, to Melanie’s courage in precarious situations, Ashley’s lust, and even Scarlett’s got her weak moments. The dialogues are genius (oh how I enjoy Rhett’s sarcasm), the historical backgrounds dosed in perfectly.
The ending, too, encompasses everything one did not expect (nor hoped for) and it kept me sobbing during the last ~40 pages. And I love books that make me sob. Consequently, this book got a prominent place on my jewels-pearls-treasures shelf.