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The Bean Trees
by Barbara Kingsolver, 1988
After
spending the past semester buried under the works of Chaucer, I began to
think I’d have to
write my first column of the summer in Middle English. Fortunately for
you, I chose instead to unwind my tired brain with an old beach
favorite. Kingsolver is the author of the bestselling Poisonwood Bible,
and, most recently, Prodigal Summer. Her first novel, The Bean Trees, is
an absorbing story about the kind of families many of us have grown to
cherish, our chosen families.
Main
character Taylor Greer reminds me of another tough, rule-breaking (and
role-breaking) literary hero. Fans of Rita Mae Brown’s Rubyfruit
Jungle will find many similarities between the two young women. Like
Brown, Kingsolver begins her story in the South, when Taylor was just a
young girl. Kingsolver, however, moves quickly through the events that
shape Taylor’s life. Her experiences in her small town childhood left
her with two primary goals; the first of which is to make it through
adolescence without getting pregnant. Understandable, when I think back
to my own small-town high school with its swelling population of swollen
bellies.
Her
second goal is a bit more unusual, but, as readers soon find, no less
ironic than the first. Taylor Greer is afraid of tires. Gutsy, bold,
independent, free-spirited, but afraid of tires. This fear (what would
this be called? Radialophobia? Firestoneophobia?) stems from a most
unfortunate accident in her rural Kentucky town; an incident that would
have no doubt caused her the same, if not more, trauma if she hadn’t
been right there to witness it herself.
Newt
Hardbine’s father, was flung over the top of the Standard Oil sign
from the force of an exploding tractor tire and left to hang there,
flailing, while the town gathered beneath. When I read this, I was
immediately reminded of our little town of Rehoboth, with its rapidly
spreading
(and exaggerated) news. Only a few weeks before, a local restaurant
experienced a small mechanical fire that was quickly extinguished by a
hose-wielding employee. Within hours, I was informed by several
different people of the raging blaze, bar brawl, robbery, looting, and
utter devastation of the entire block. Yes, Taylor, I can sympathize
with your tire phobia.
So
Taylor heads West, armed with a push-start, windowless 1955 VW bug, a
couple hundred dollars, a new name (she ditches the old one, Missy, at
the Pittman county line) and a vague Cherokee heritage. With no real
plan, only a direction, Taylor begins to seek her future. Sometimes what
we need in life has a funny way of being exactly what we don’t want.
In
the middle of the vast, flat landscape of Oklahoma, the VW gives a sad
cough, leaving Taylor grappling in a place that, in her words, “made
me feel like there was nothing left to hope for” (Has she ever driven
across Ohio? I get the same feeling). It is here, after wolfing down a
ninety-five cent burger and staring at an infomercial for 1-800-THE
LORD, that Taylor’s journey begins to take shape.
Specifically,
it takes the shape of a small pink bundle left on her front seat at a
truck stop. Wide, dark, silent eyes now follow Taylor’s every move.
Together, the unlikely pair drive through the Oklahoma night. Taylor has
little experience with children, and it would be a stretch to say that
the little Native American child triggers some hidden maternal instinct.
Instead,
Kingsolver creates a relationship for them based on a mutual will to
survive. The child is small, but probably three years old, and she
doesn’t speak. Taylor dubs her Turtle, after the girl’s vice-like
grip on her new mom.
The
new, two-person family crosses the Arizona line, and a flat tire leads
them to Jesus Is Lord Used Tires. Wary, but desperate, Taylor enters a
maze of used tires to find a new friend. Mattie, an unassuming saint for
Mexican refugees, takes to Taylor and Turtle the minute she sees them.
Since Taylor is flat broke (and her tires are just flat), she agrees
reluctantly to work for Mattie. Surrounded by towering tires, Taylor
begins to find her niche-or maybe her tread? Anyway, the family
continues to grow. Along the way, she encounters Lou Ann, and an
unlikely friendship forms. Lou Ann is everything Taylor wanted to avoid.
She is young, and recently
abandoned by her husband. She’s raising their child on her own now,
and is at a loss until she meets Taylor. Lou Ann, Taylor, Turtle, and
little Dwayne Ray share a small apartment near Jesus Is Lord Used Tires,
and create an unusual little family.
The
interesting thing about this book, and others by Kingsolver, is how the
characters and their relationships resemble gay and lesbian families.
Kingsolver, who is straight, captures the concerns and personalities of
the people I see around me everyday so well. The idea of the chosen
family, the struggle with the undefined roles in a household of women,
are all so familiar to me. I recently re-read Lillian Faderman’s For
the Love of Women, and I remember being impressed by her definition of
“lesbian.” Faderman, an historian, does not place an emphasis on a
sexual relationship between two women; instead, she examines the
connections they have in their home and political lives. She looks at
how they created their own families, and the importance they placed on
their relationships with women. She acknowledges that many of these
women would not identify with the modern definition of lesbian, but
still finds them important contributors to lesbian history. Taylor Greer
is this type of character. Through her, Kingsolver creates an image many
readers, gay and straight, will find very comfortable.
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