To say I devoured that book would be an understatement. I remember swinging in the hammock, delighting in the antics of the young Scout, Jem, and Dill, wishing that I had playmates or siblings like that. I remember (vividly) my shock and disgust at Bob Ewel, and seeing a sentence as disturbingly vicious as, "I seen that black nigger yonder ruttin' on my Mayella," in black and white for the first time. I remember my indignation at the injustices of the world mirroring Jem's as he walked home from the courthouse. I remember the respect and admiration swelling up in me for Atticus. To this day, I open up that same copy of the novel, see the finger prints made in Chex Mix seasoning, the wrinkled circles from the droplets of condensation from my glass, and I'm instantly transported back to one of the best summers of my life. To quote the end of the film, "I was to think of these days many times. Of Jem, and Dill, and Boo Radley, and Tom Robinson, and Atticus."
After that first time I read the novel, it became a part of me. I was the geeky kid who went to the library and borrowed the book on tape almost every other week. I was the walking Sparknotes for the novel who every student in freshman year English class loved. I was the nerdy high schooler who carried around the book with her all the time until it started falling apart. I was the strange college kid who went up to the circulation desk and cried hysterically at the librarian when the book on tapes I grew up with were replaced by a special 50th anniversary edition with a new reader. I was the aspiring young actress who was willing to drive three and a half hours away to audition for a production of To Kill a Mockingbird. I was the starstruck young woman who met the actress who played Scout in the film and asked her to sign my novel.
I was the wide eyed fan girl who preordered her copy of Go Set a Watchman in February, and counted down the days until July 14th.
I was wary when I first heard that a sequel to To Kill a Mockingbird was being released. I had been let down by sequels many times before, and the thought of having it happen with my favorite novel of all time was terrifying. But when I learned that it was not really a sequel, but a first draft of a story that eventually became Mockingbird, I was intrigued. I scoffed at critics who said, 'If I want to hear what Harper Lee has to say on x, I'll go to my bookshelf and pick up To Kill a Mockingbird. I don't need another version of it." This was a part of Mockingbird's literary history. How could you not want to read it?
To say that I was disappointed by Go Set a Watchman would be unfair. Being that it was an unedited first draft, I should not have had much in the way of expectations going into it. And while I did keep my expectations to a minimum, I thought that if anything was going to disappoint me, it would have been the writing itself. Maybe it would be poorly written or very slow. But that wasn't it. Harper Lee's style was there, alright. It shone through in the scene with Jem and Dill, and the high school dance. (Bravo to the editor who noticed this and told her to go rewrite the story from the child Scout's point of view). What bothered me so much were the characters. Alright, one character.
Atticus.
Atticus Finch. The character who earned the #1 Hero spot on the American Film Institute's list, "100 Years... 100 Heroes & Villains." To read the things that a pro-segregation Atticus was saying in Go Set a Watchman tore my heart in two. I thought, 'No, there has to be more to it than that,' and my head swirled with wild explanations of covert missions, in which Atticus was undercover, spying on the enemy. When I finished reading the book (which I did in one night), I sobbed. I, like Jean Louise, had witnessed one of my idols, my heroes, turn on everything he had ever taught me. I couldn't come to grips with it. It just wasn't right.
The next day, I saw several other readers' comments about the book. Things like, "I always suspected Atticus had a dark side to him that Scout didn't see because she was a child," and "This book is about fallen idols, and we, like Jean Louise, have to accept Atticus for what he truly is." These only made my mood worse. I felt betrayed by the book. How could they do something like that to Atticus?
Then I remembered that this book is not a sequel, it's a first draft. A first draft that went through major revisions and changes. And I have to believe that one of those changes was Atticus. The Atticus who got an unnamed black man acquitted of the charge of raping a 14 year old white girl and then had to literally wash the case off of himself, and the Atticus who knew he had no chance of getting the innocent Tom Robinson acquitted of the charge of raping Mayella Ewel, but fought to anyway, because he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he hadn't, were not the same man. Go Set a Watchman didn't do anything to Atticus Finch, To Kill a Mockingbird did. The revisions to the character made him a cultural icon for human decency. They made him a man who makes you want to be a better person simply because of how good and pure his motives are. They made him a hero. My hero.
In conclusion, Was this the great literary find of the century? No. Did it live up to all of the hype surrounding it? No. Did the book need to be published? Probably not. Am I glad I read it? I really can't tell yet.
Do I still want to name my first son after Atticus? Yes I do.
