Having read the greatest love story in contemporary English literature (Gone with the Wind), most people would naturally be inclined to get hold of the sequel…especially since GWTW had an open ending.
This ‘open ending’ deserves a little attention. It’s something that caused me untold grief, a few sleepless nights and a lot of anguish. Why? Because Margaret Mitchell’s characters got, over time, firmly lodged into my world, so much so that the old cat Mrs. Merriweather, the imperial Mrs. Elsing and frail Melanie were as real to me as my mum, my imaginary friend Titiwoo and the handsome ‘renegade’ Rhett Butler. SIGH. Rhett Butler. Still in love with him, always will be. I always wondered what would become of Scarlett and the love of my love-Rhett…
Anyway, coming to the point, I finally got hold of Scarlett, the sequel. It’s no secret that most sequels, be it in movies or books, pale in comparison to their prequels. But I wasn’t prepared to the extent that Scarlett would…well…pale.
Although the story takes constant and surprising turns, it is not nearly enough to keep the readers attention. The author, Alexandra Ripley, should have, in my opinion, been true to the writing style of the book that inspired it’s sequel. Her style is much too descriptive and the story, although interesting, is much too Bollywood…or Hollywood…filmy at any rate. So many new characters were introduced that I was, at times, hard pressed to remember that the Scarlett I was reading about is the Scarlett from GWTW.
At the end of it, there is no satisfaction is obtaining the closure I so coveted. If anyone of you guys out there intends to read it, I wouldn’t advice it.
That brings me to the philosophy behind my disappointment. Sometimes the expectation of an event affords greater pleasure than the event itself. In retrospect guys, I did enjoy the uncertainty with which GWTW ended. At any rate, it was better than finishing Scarlett…despite its happy ending…