Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil – Old Paper & Cats, Reviews by S. Hargrave

Rusalka’s Vet Appointment

We took Rusalka to the vet today for her yearly shots and check-up. Unlike with the senior ladies (Bubastis and Wesker), I can expect our younger furry children to have appointments that are blessedly uncomplicated. I know that Rusalka had a weight problem, but I did not know that she had crossed the line into obese. I also did not know what a weight-loss plan work-up now looks like. Gone are the days where you were simply handed the metabolic food and wished luck. Now there’s paperwork and a full nutrition regime and weigh-ins and, wow, I was not expecting all of that.

An electric green book has a black-and-white photo on the front: a status of a young woman holding up a plate in each hand. A calico tabby sits behind the book.

I am grateful that our vet and their staff are so committed to keeping our cats healthy and happy because feline obesity is a serious issue. However, I am still wrapping my head around just how much our feeding routines are going to have to change. Poor Rusalka.

A calico tabby sits beside an open book. The book shows a black and white photo of an stone angel beneath a spreading tree.

An Old Favourite

I saved one of my old favourites for last, John Berendt’s Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. I read it for the first time when I was far too young for it, all of the way back in 1994. I loved it then, but I didn’t appreciate the nuances of what Berendt was trying to say both about the Jim Williams case and about the climate of Savannah, Georgia as it existed on the precipice of old southern habits and 21st century modernity. It’s a complex book that examines what happens when traditions of prejudice and antiquated ideas of ‘sensibility’ butt up against time’s forward march and the inevitable changing of the tide. Though it takes its focus from the murder case in which Williams was tried an obscene amount of times for the murder of his lover, Danny Hansford, the real star of the piece is the city itself, including its people, landmarks, structure, and history.

A tortoiseshell cat looks into an open book. The book has a black and white photo of a cemetery on one page.

I will warn that, though this was a book that was ahead of its time by 1994 standards, it is woefully behind the times when it comes to discussions of LGBTQIA+ issues. Also, while it is purported to be a non-fiction narrative, it decidedly takes more than a fair share of licenses with real events and people. This book is definitely closer to Gonzo journalism than the absolutely factual.

A tortie in a spooky bat-wing bowtie licks her nose. A calico tabby hunches behind an open book.

Midnight in the Garden

One of the things Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil does very well is capture a specific moment in time in a specific location. I have read a lot of books that claim to be love letters to a city (most recently Nicola Lagioia’s ode to Rome in The City of the Living), but I have yet to see a writer accomplish anything near what Berendt does with Savannah. He gives the landscape life. He invites the reader into the lives of the individuals that make the city what it is. He also does all this without bogging down the reader with too many street names, and locations. Instead, he focuses on making them real and giving them character. He ties everything back to the murder case but does so in a way that feels organic. You are invited to attend the parties and be a part of the social life of Savannah but also bear the burden of its systemic racism, its lack of resources for the poor, and its storied history of oppression based on race, gender, and sexuality.

It’s a beautiful portrait even in its ugliness and it is that ugliness that makes it real and gives it definition.

Of Good and Evil

I hear you asking just why this book is spooky and the answer is that this is an irresistible trip into the world of southern gothic. A murder in the midst of opulence. The secrets. The antiques. The Spanish moss and the old cemeteries. Even the introduction of magic elements, voodoo rituals, and restless spirits. What makes these spooky elements even more compelling is that Berendt places them inside a narrative that on the onset appears to be mostly a true crime story and a piece about an old city becoming modern (or refusing to become modern). The stark contrast is compelling and disturbing and grating in that perfect way that keeps you reading.

The End of Spooky Season

So, this is it: the end of another spooky season. Gone are the haunted narratives and arriving are the things more festive in nature. There will probably be a holiday theme of some sort for December, but I’m keeping an open mind and letting November be a transitional month both for me and for the blog (since I have a sizeable pile of books to review and I am worried about my shelves).

Happy Halloween in advance!