Several years ago, I experienced Savannah, Georgia for the first time—and I was smitten. Like a schoolgirl in the throes of a first love, I saw it through the rose-colored glasses my mom once accused me of wearing. And she was right. There have been decisions made in much of my adulthood that were based off what I wanted to see rather than what was true. I tend to romanticize a place or time in history, happy to turn a blind eye to the underbelly which is always there if we’re willing to look. There is no paradise on earth but that which we create in our minds.
Go to any tourist destination and veer away from the areas designed to thrill and amaze, and you’ll discover I’m correct. The first time I realized the extent of this was when Chris and I journeyed to Spain and Portugal on our own. Cais Cais, Portugal is a port town unlike any other. The sailors step off their boats to a wharf area tiled—yes, tiled!—in waves of color to help them acclimate to life off the rolling sea.
This is a town of unparalleled beauty—as long as you’re wise enough to stick to the tourist areas. Being
Fountain in Forsyth Park, Savannah
married to an adventurer, Chris insisted we walk around town at night without benefit of a map. Maps are for the mundane. And though my husband generally has a keen sense of direction, a town surrounded by water on three sides was more of a challenge than he’d anticipated. Needless to say, the hour got later and the scenery less pleasant. I feared our murders would make international news. It didn’t help that neither of us spoke Portuguese. Clearly, we survived. But I learned then that it’s best to not wander into uncharted territory.
So, back to Savannah. Another beautiful town of unparalleled beauty—and they sort of speak English. Since we moved to Tennessee three years ago, I’ve wanted to go back and revisit it. We planned it twice and cancelled twice due to family emergencies. We planned it a third time, and Covid hit. Finally, this past July, Chris made reservations to celebrate our anniversary there, and I was excited to take in all the historic sights I’d seen the last time around.
Me hanging out with songwriter Johnny Mercer
As an author and former English teacher, I’m embarrassed to say I had no inkling about the infamous Jim Williams’ murder trials that took place there from 1981 on—three times convicted of murdering his young male lover, and three appeals until it was finally changed to self-defense. It ends with quite a little twist that proves Mark Twain’s quote “Truth is stranger than fiction.” I’d never even heard of the book Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, but once my eyes were opened, I could no longer see Savannah in the same way. John Berendt’s book reveals the seedy underbelly of a place and culture steeped in twisted morals and its own self-importance. That is part of its charm, I’m sure. But I have come to a point in my life that I no longer want to wander through this world with my eyes closed to the truth. To be deceived by pretty pictures and rose-colored glasses just doesn’t appeal.
Historic Home, Savannah
Let me caution you if you’ve not read Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil and desire to do so. This is not a “clean” work of fiction. It is a non-fiction author’s years-long exposé into the life of Savannahian residents and the eccentricities of those who put a high value on things other than spiritual—unless you count the ramblings of a voodoo priestess spiritual. This is not a G-rated book. Still, it is well-done and compelling, if not dark and disconcerting.
The Back Cover Copy states it like this:
Four years on the New York Times Bestseller List.
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt
Genteel society ladies who compare notes on their husbands’ suicides. A hilariously foul-mouthed black drag queen. A voodoo priestess who works her roots in the graveyard at midnight. A morose inventor who owns a bottle of poison powerful enough to kill everyone in town. A prominent antiques dealer who hangs a Nazi flag from his window to disrupt the shooting of a movie. And a redneck gigolo whose conquests describe him as a “walking streak of sex.”
These are some of the real residents of Savannah, Georgia, a city whose eccentric mores are unerringly observed—and whose dirty linen is gleefully aired—in this utterly irresistible book. At once a true-crime murder story and a hugely entertaining and deliciously perverse travelogue. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil is as bracing and intoxicating as half-a-dozen mint juleps.
While engrossed in this non-fiction work, I had to keep reminding myself the story is true—the characters were not created by a fiction author as an angle to titillate and amaze. He merely had to do a more than commendable job at exposing them. And he did. There was also a movie based on the book directed by Clint Eastwood and partially filmed in the Mercer-Williams’ house on Bull Street where much of the actual events took place. As is almost always the case, Hollywood took some creative license in adapting the screenplay. And although I enjoy John Cusack’s talent as an actor, I have an aversion to Kevin Spacey (for reasons of my own) who played Jim Williams. Let’s just say, given recent charges against him, he was aptly cast.
Comments 2
I’m an experienced international traveler and I appreciate the solid travel tips you give here along with great visuals.
Thank you so much for your continued encouragement and support, Delores!