Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt, A Book Review by Rebecca Moll

Writing fiction has inherent freedom in that, as long as, it is plausible, it does not have to be necessarily possible. Non-fiction, however, requires the fine line of truth, a treacherous high-wire kind of line. One misstep and the fall is deadly, a whole crowd of gawkers who will call out the obvious, your faux-paus and grand transgressions that apparently were not so obvious at the time of writing.

I’ll stick with fiction, thank you.

John Berendt not only walks the fine line, but in doing so, lays open the vast landscape below, a wide-window into Savannah, one of America’s oldest cities. Slightly antiquated, this both charming and conflicting city defines itself by its own rules. Press upon the sill, lean farther for a better look, for it is the characters, the very real, living, breathing people of Savannah that push and pull at reality.

Serena Dawe s, the Faulkner-like Antebellum aging princess. Joe Odom, the con-artist/thief you must mistrust but can’t help love, beg for just one more trip up and down those ebony and ivories. Jim Williams, antique dealer, the good guy or is it bad guy? Minerva, the living ghost of unsettled departed souls, root digger you do not want to cross. The Lady Chablis, exotic, glamorous, outrageous, two halves that don’t necessarily make a whole. Out of control, beautiful Billy Hansen. The frightening Luther Driggers that needles your hairline each time you turn on the tap. And of course, Mercer House, just as much a character as the rest, the walls do talk, or better yet, sing, Baby It’s Cold Outside, Ac-cent-tchu-ate the Positive, and of course, Personality. Who doesn’t love Johnny Mercer?

Having recently visited Savannah for the first time, I decided to read Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil for the second time. I can see a third reading somewhere in my future.

Black, white, rich, poor, sane, kind of sane, far from sane, plotters and plodders, this swirling, whirling mix known as Savannah holds a high court. Proud, but not so loud, she turns a cold shoulder on the outside world, happy to be as it was and ever will be, whatever she decides it will be, thank you very much.

What better setting for a murder?

But, before you delight in solving this crime, remember that high-wire line, that Daniel Lewis Hansford was a real person, one who is forever mourned by loved ones, so much more than just a victim, a character in one story’s telling. That Lady Chablis deserves understanding, Jim Williams forgiveness, Joe Odom just one more song, Serena Dawes a few old rules of civility, Luther Driggers, an empty plate at breakfast, and Minerva, many more midnights in the garden of good and evil.

Turn to page one and step back in time and place, Mercer House, 429 Bull Street, Monterey Square, Savannah. Get your tickets early, the tour fills up fast for this opulent Italianate Villa Style mansion. Look but don’t touch and remember your manners. Her highness Savannah is a most gracious host for those who walk the fine line.

And for those who misstep, take pleasure in her faults, laugh at her fragility? There’s always a boat waiting patiently in the middle of the river to cross to the other side, a few handfuls of dirt, and one or two remaining items of the late Dr. Buzzard.

Take heart should all this talk of death get you down. Get out your old vinyls and spin a few oldies but goodies. Johnny Mercer or maybe Duke Ellington, the very two who indirectly launched a little unknown lady with a big, big voice, the one and only Aretha Franklin. Who else could cover the greats while Laughing on the Outside?

R-E-S-P-E-C-T…find out what it means…R-E-S-P-E-C-T…just a little bit…just a little bit…just a little bit…re- re- re- , read on!