When I first opened this book, I thought I would read a serious literary work. What about the result? I was sitting in a warm southern kitchen, surrounded by red and white plaid tablecloths, gnawing on freshly cooked fried chicken while listening to an interesting old lady talking about stories all night.
It has an irresistible beginning: Evelyn Couch, a housewife who is in a middle-aged crisis and relieves anxiety by overeating, meets 86-year-old Ninny Threadgoode in the nursing home. The two of them were not polite and directly became “partner in crime” – the kind of “accomplice” that I knew as soon as you winked, chatting while stealing snacks. Ninny talked about a place called Whistle Stop, Alabama more than 50 years ago. There was a small cafe called The Whistle Stop Cafe, and the signature dish was the title of the book – Fried Green Tomatoes.
The process of reading this book is wonderful. It twists the two eras together like braiding: one line is the present, the dull nursing home, and Evelyn is slowly lit up while listening to the story; the other line is the southern town during the Great Depression, the sunshine is hot and the people are hot. One second you were in a modern air-conditioned room, and the next second you were dragged into a world without air conditioning, but everyone lived a hot life.
Listen with Evelyn. Listen, listen, you will find a “fake boy” named Idgie Threadgoode – she is ridiculously wild, dares to climb trees, dare to fight, and dare to fight against the whole town. Then she met Lady Ruth Jamison, and the whole world lit up. It’s not love at first sight in a romantic novel, but the kind of certainty that “I finally found someone to protect”.
Later, Ruth married her husband of domestic violence and was trapped in a dark marriage. How did Idgie do it? Without saying a word, she joined a group of friends – including black people, white people, old people and children – to stage a rescue. The righteousness of “my people, no one wants to move” makes people’s blood rush to the top of their heads.
This is the friendship that every girl dreams of: a person who is willing to break into the fire for you without even frowning.
There is a scene in the book, and I still pause when I think about it. Idgie knew that Ruth liked bees – not afraid, but the kind of gentle love. So she ran to the wild alone and got back a whole jar of wild honey at the risk of being stung into a pig’s head. She put the jar in front of Ruth, her face was bitten several times, and she smiled like a fool. It’s a jar of honey. But you know, that’s all she can give. This kind of love is hidden in the details, which is more beautiful than any love word and heavier than any oath.
Of course, if this book only talks about warmth, it is at most a bowl of high-end chicken soup. The reason why it is charming is that under the gentle background, there is an amazing rebellion.
There is a heroine who is wilder than a man – she doesn’t wait for salvation, she is the salvation itself. There is a black humor about murder and disappearance. When you read it later, you can’t help but go back to confirm, “Wait, did they really… that person?” There are black and white friendships who still support each other in the era of apartheid. And the housewife named Evelyn, who borrowed strength from the story, from a woman who could only relieve anxiety by eating snacks, to a person who dared to step on the accelerator and shout “Towanda!” at someone who stole her parking spot in the supermarket parking lot.
When you read it, you will probably applaud wildly in your heart.
This is a fiercer kind of female awakening: regaining the initiative of life, even if it only starts from a parking space.
When I closed the book, I felt like drinking a bowl of hot soup in winter, warming from the mouth to the stomach, and then the warmth slowly dissipated, to the fingertips and into the eyes.
Idgie and Ruth have been gone for a long time. The Whistle Stop Cafe may have closed long ago, and the menu on the wall may have faded. But that friendship has crossed decades, and it is still hot across the pages.
After I put down the book, I did two things.
The first thing is to send a message to a friend I haven’t contacted for a long time, saying, “Hey, I suddenly think of you.” The second thing is to take out a box of chicken nuggets from the refrigerator and put it into the air fryer. In the ten minutes of waiting for it, I have been wondering what Fried Green Tomatoes tastes like.
I think it’s probably a kind of taste with fireworks, crispy, hot and unreserved. When you were depressed, someone brought a plate of hot food and stuffed it into your hand, saying, “Eat it, the sky can’t collapse”. It’s the smell when you think the whole world is not on your side, and suddenly find that at least one person will fight against the whole world for you.
That’s the unique smell of love between women, which does not need to be explained.
Bring a piece of fried chicken or a cup of sweet tea to read Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe!
