south of broad

South of Broad by Pat Conroy

You've got to love Leo King. He's this ugly boy who started life haunted by his older brother's suicide and becomes an unlikely hero in the lives of his high school friends, even as they become adults.

There's Sheba Poe, the celebrated actress, who was told by Leo's mother in high school that she would be the greatest whore who ever lived, and proved it.

There's Ike, black and proud, who became fast friends with Leo at a time when a black man would be lynched by looking the wrong way at a white man.

There's Molly, who could have been happier, but had to marry into Charleston high class because it was the life she had been born to lead.

The novel is set in Charleston, South Carolina. My friend Irene and I have agreed that we would visit South Carolina one day, solely because of our love for Pat Conroy. We've come to know The Citadel because of The Lords of Discipline. You roam the streets of Charleston and Beaufort in Beach Music. When you read one of his novels, the next one becomes a familiar place. You could close your eyes and imagine the moon rising on the river, you could almost feel how it is to ride a boat and go shrimping, and you could grit your teeth and wish you could stab men like Worth Rutledge in South of Broad, who was born with a silver spoon up his ass, same as his son.

My hands-down Pat Conroy favorite is still The Prince of Tides, but South of Broad resonates with strong characters, Charleston aristocracy, religious ardor, murder, and surprisingly, love in all its convolutions. Not bad for a six-hour session with a Kindle. :-)

for cheska

I am amused. I cannot resist sharing an opinion.

I have almost forgotten how it is to be fresh out of high school, and contemplating college. I was one of those students who went to universities on their own and took the entrance exams without truly understanding that it's their adult lives at stake.

I grew up with a Tyrannosaurus rex for a grandmother (read: tyrant), and she decided that I should either be a doctor or a lawyer, because those professions would bring enormous prestige to her family. Partly because she thought it up, and partly because I was a Tyrannosaurus-rex-in-training, I refused to be one.

My mother was a wise woman. She researched data from the Department of Labor and Employment, listened to a few wiser women like Cheska's grandmother, and came up with a list of courses that I have never seen in my girlfriends' slumbook. She included in her list the careers that each course would lead to.

My grandmother and both my parents were teachers. None of them told me to be one. It must be maddening to keep up with all those lesson plans.

Now I grew up in a household full of things to read and no TV. My grandmother banned comics. I had Life Magazines and Readers Digests in grade school. I read Gabriel Garcia Marquez' One Hundred Years of Solitude when I was thirteen, and I became a nerd and decided that my one great ambition in life is to become a Nobel Prize winner in Literature.

I also did art. I used charcoal, oil pastels, and crayons. I loved pointilism. When I was a kid I had a nice, wide, polished custom-made wood case for my art supplies and paper, and it was meant as a lap desk for drawing. It had carvings on the sides, and it was heavy! I once joined a provincial painting contest, and I swear I was the only contestant with a grandmother in tow, for carrying the Godforsaken art case. My grandmother paid for painting lessons, but I was forbidden to draw on my school notebooks. How's that for T-rex mode?

Those were my two passions: the written word and colors. I took entrance exams for AB English and Fine Arts, passed them, and my grandmother threw a tantrum. Writers and artists go hungry, she said. I was persuaded to take Psychology, which could, in my grandmother's mind, later evolve into Law or Medicine.

Now I'm grown up, I'm in Human Resources, I have published a couple of stories, and I sometimes design clothes. I still do pointilism. I'll probably go to law school in a couple of years, so I figure I would end up where my grandmother wanted me to be.

But I ask myself this: had I insisted on becoming a writer, or a painter, where would I be now? Would I have become hungry, or would I have made sure I was successful, since I was good at it, and my heart was in it?

When I was working in the university, we had to figure out the retention data. I had to ask students why they were dropping out or why they wanted to shift courses. Half of the time, it was because their parents decided the courses they had to take, and they discover they hate it. Then you'd have students who work part-time at McDonald's, because their parents are deep in debt and they really wanted to become engineers.

Sometimes you have to grow a little older to understand that you can only give your best to the things you take to heart. You can't be a good cook if you don't love food. You can't claim to be the best mother you could be if you didn't love your kids. When I write, I love the way the letters become words and words become stories, and then I know I'll have a good tale.

It's the same for college courses. When it's time for you to decide, see what's in your heart. What is it that you'd love to do when you finally get out of school? That's what would sustain you through four years of studying. Unless your mother has provided you with a huge trust fund, you can't start a course and change your mind every now and then. I have an uncle who was in college for about 14 years, changing his mind... I guess his parents decimated banana plantations to see him graduate.

One last thing. Children shouldn't live their parents' dreams. It would not be right for me to insist that my daughter should become a doctor just because I had always wanted to be one, but I happened to be scared of syringes.

We, as parents, only want the best for our kids, and of course we will pay the tuition, but sometimes we forget to listen. Sometimes we forget that once upon a time we were fresh high school graduates, unsure of the future, hating it when we couldn't make up our minds, and probably asking the Lord what course He wanted us to take.