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Books by
Celia Rivenbark

YOU CAN’T DRINK ALL DAY IF YOU DON’T START IN THE MORNING

BELLE WEATHER:
Mostly Sunny with a Chance of Scattered Hissy Fits

WE'RE JUST LIKE YOU, ONLY PRETTIER:
Confessions of a Tarnished Southern Belle

WE'RE JUST LIKE YOU, ONLY PRETTIER: Confessions of a Tarnished Southern Belle
Celia Rivenbark
St. Martin's Griffin
Humor/Essays
ISBN: 031231244X

I live in St. Louis, a city that I always say should call itself the Gateway to the South rather than the Gateway to the West. Missouri was a border state during the Civil War, the locals all say "soda" rather than "pop," and we even have our own brand of rednecks, except we call them "hoosiers." No offense intended to all those of the Indiana persuasion. After living here for ten years, I feel that I finally have a handle on our Southerness.

Well, bless your heart, I have a feeling author Celia Rivenbark would say, "You just don't know nothin'."

Rivenbark, a newspaper columnist from Wilmington, North Carolina, has penned a volume of essays explaining all things Southern to Yankees like me. Topics include the importance of saving your bacon grease and drinking your Cheerwine --- or is it, drinking your bacon grease and saving your Cheerwine?

She explains such Southernisms as "mama and them's" --- and before the punctuation police set out, she says that is the correct plural possessive. " 'Them' is Daddy, usually, but it can also encompass every bony-ribbed yard cat that might be hanging around at the time or whatever siblings and assorted Aunt Ola Mays or Pee Paws or Mee Maws might be found rocking on the porch now and again."

It seems that family is an especially important theme to Rivenbark as many of her essays revolve around her extended family --- including her husband's elderly auntie who lives at the Shady Haven Garden of Despair, and one of her cousins who needs to "get hitched sometime before we see the head."

The essays are certainly funny but many have a bit of a bite to them. You get the feeling that Rivenbark doesn't suffer fools gladly and you might want to get out of her way once she fires up her behemoth of an SUV, which she kindly refers to as "Bubette." She launches a tirade at her daughter Sophie's preschool teacher for daring to ask the little darlin' what she eats for breakfast. It's a Nutri-Grain bar, by the way, unwrapped and eaten on the way to school. But afraid of the "granola moms" at school, she instructs the child to "tell the teacher that you had two scrambled eggs, a bowl of real oatmeal --- the kind you have to cook on top of the uh, you know, stove…" Sophie laughs so hard that a SweeTart (a nutritious fruit-juice flavored SweeTart) flies right out of her nose.

While I'm not sure that every essay is "laugh out loud funny," like the blurb on the back cover promises, I do think that Rivenbark has a wicked sense of humor and a sharp observational eye. At times, the essays read a bit too much like a stand-up comedy routine and are too meandering to serve any purpose other than a quick giggle. A story about installing an oversized television ends up describing the absurdity of modern-day soap opera plots, which I guess is different from the absurdity of "old school" soap opera plots.

The best essays are those describing Southern life. I feel that I finally have some insight into the personality of my mother-in-law, born and raised in the heart of North Carolina. I'll have to try out my newfound knowledge the next time we go to visit her "and them's."

--- Reviewed by Shannon Bloomstran

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