Polite make-believe is weary business, and there is no one better at this than
'POLITE MAKE-BELIEVE IS WEARY BUSINESS AND THERE IS NO ONE BETTER AT IT THAN SOUTHERNERS'
Having lived through four years of college life under the blistering sun and continual frizzy-haired humidity of South Carolina, I could definitely identify with the Branchville, SC setting of Deb Spera's inaugural novel. In the first weeks of getting acclimated to a new southern culture, a new grueling schedule and new uncertain attempts at friendship; my most vivid memories are of the loneliness and homesickness I felt. Had I dared mention those feelings to my far away mom on my weekly calls, my guess is that she would have "called her daughter home". But..she never knew. Several decades later when my husband and I were burned out from ministry in another state, my mother did have the chance to "call us home". She lovingly cared for our family as we tried to sort out our lives. Her delight in having us close was evident.
In a variety of ways the three fierce protagonists in this compelling story are on a long arduous journey, coming to grips with their broken relationships with their daughters. Each of these women take turns speaking their thoughts in the unfolding chapters, giving us a clear picture of how the Boll Weevil infestation of 1915 led to this situation of poverty and hopelessness in 1924, just prior to the Great Depression. Business owner Annie is the matriarch of the influential Coles family, and she is clueless as to why her daughters left home and refuse to communicate with her. Retta is a first generation free slave who untiringly manages Annie's large home, while still grieving for her long dead daughter, Esther. Downtrodden Gertrude has lived in unspeakable squalor with her abusive husband and four daughters, who seldom see love and tenderness from this hardened mama. The lives of these resilient women intersect and though their characters and experiences are vastly different, they discover that their commonalities as "sisters" transcend understanding; they positively influence one another.
Retta's humanity and compassion deeply touched my heart as she gathers hurting people under her wing, nurses Gertrude's daughter back from near-death, and unselfishly serves as midwife to all who need her. She refuses to dismiss the people that God brings into her sphere, even though her friends and neighbors are disdainful. In a particularly poignant scene where I finally understood the significance of the book title, Retta is valiantly assisting her young Indian friend Nelly in delivering her first baby. "Mama used to say to all the womenfolk, "Call out to your child, what is his name?" And the women would call his name." With this very difficult breech birth delivery, Retta commands Nelly, " Call out to your daughter. Call her home." The tenderness of this exchange struck me as I realized the depth of the ties between daughters and mothers, from the very first moments that we set eyes on them.
Most moms have experienced that strong tie at various times in their lives. In her third year of college, my daughter struggled with bulimia. It was a horrific year with a controlling boyfriend, an unsuccessful soccer experience, and the unremitting deadlines of coursework. As summer was approaching, she accepted a nanny position; but in lengthy phone conversations, she admitted that it was a less than ideal situation with a rather demanding boss-mother. The mother heart in me knew that this beautiful daughter of mine needed the healing touch of home. So I "called my daughter home" to love her, to affirm her, to laugh with her, to offer rest, to offer acceptance, to banish anxiety. It was a summer of restoration and refreshment for her. It was a summer of relief and hope for me.
As moms, just like Annie, Retta and Gertrude; our greatest desire is to have good relationships with our kids, both daughters and sons. That sometimes means allowing them to figure things out on their own; yet, at other times it means "Calling them Home". A mesmerizing and redemptive read.
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