To Sequel or Not To Sequel? … or, Adventures in Time and Space with Harper Lee

What can be said about To Kill a Mockingbird, really, that hasn’t already been said? (Apparently, about three and half pages worth … ) It is an incredible and powerful story and should be read by every single person in the history of ever. Period. This is only my opinion, of course, but I don’t think I’m alone in feeling this way. Themes of equality, race and social class, and even some Southern Gothic elements abound in a story that on its surface seems like a simple coming-of-age tale. For decades Mockingbird has been widely taught in classes, both at the high school and college levels. Very few graduates of the American school system escape without reading Harper Lee’s classic.

Thus, there’s a big nostalgia factor with this book for many people. I read it for the first time with my mom when I was about 12 or 13. I’d read a chapter aloud to her, then the next day she’d read a chapter aloud to me, then I’d read another chapter, and so on. So re-reading this book last month really brought back some memories for me, not just about the book itself but also about my own life. Good literature is powerful in that way. It encourages us to remember not only its story but our own stories as well.

I love the protagonist in Mockingbird. It’s been determined at this point that Scout has quite a few elements borrowed from Harper Lee’s own life, and the intimately personal narration of this first book shows that. But it was Scout’s attitude (tomboyish, too smart for her own good sometimes) that really won me over. There are moments of innocent genius from Scout that remain in the mind (i.e., singlehandedly halting a lynch mob in their tracks by talking to one of the men about his son, who is a classmate of Scout’s). I’m sure many readers found themselves wondering, as I did, what this fascinating girl would be like when she grew up.

The other characters in the story truly stand out, too. Jem and Dill, Scout’s older brother and her best friend, are both wonderfully written. Calpurnia and Aunt Alexandra are two very different but vividly created women, each quite strong in their own unique ways. Even the town of Maycomb, with all its stubborn ways and cemented social structure, seems like a character in and of itself. And, of course, there’s Atticus. But no, Atticus will get his own paragraph later.

Of course, we can’t forget Boo Radley. I wish I could just give this guy a hug. With only one actual appearance in the book he maintains his presence in the story by reputation alone. But his first “onscreen” moments in the book brought tears to my eyes. “Hey, Boo.” Simple yet powerful words.

As a twelve-year-old Star Wars and Nintendo nerd, the American judicial system wasn’t exactly high on my list of interests. Yet the unfolding courtroom drama of the Tom Robinson trial had me paying close attention. The lawyers and witnesses involved, the questioning on the witness stand or the presenting of evidence, all this was fascinating to me. But it was really the other layers that finally seemed clear and amazing to my pre-teenage brain. Race, class, gender, family history, all these different factors were coming together to judge whether this man committed a crime. And then, when the verdict arrives and it becomes apparent that sometimes and in some places justice is more of a privilege than a right …? Mind = blown.

This is such a thought-provoking story. I believe its place in American literary history is immortalized not just because of its characters, not just because of its themes, not just because it won a Pulitzer Prize, but because it brought all of those characters and themes together in a time and setting that has ultimately become timeless. In the early 1960s it made people reflect on the racial tension all around them at the time. Last month it made me reflect on the racial tension I still see everywhere and every time I look at the news. To Kill a Mockingbird is one of those stories that can crawl under your skin and make you ask questions. A powerful book by a powerful but historically silent author …

But then, finally, there was a sequel —

“The contents of the novel, which was written in the 1950s and then laid aside …” — theguardian.com 7/10/15

Oh, wait. Soooooo, it’s a prequel, then. OK.

*Ahem* Then there was a prequel …

“Having read the novel, Murphy said, ‘It’s amazing to be able to see Scout at 26, and Atticus at 72 …'”

Now I’m confused. It’s a sequel to a prequel? To a sequel? What kind of crazy space-time continuum nonsense is Harper Lee up to here? O__o

Seriously, though. It’s an odd feeling, as a lifelong lover of the written word, to hold a new book by an author you didn’t think would ever write another thing. To be fair, the publication of Go Set a Watchman has been much in the public eye lately. (I’ll talk about some of that publicity in a moment.) Headline-watchers have had months to prepare for the arrival of this book. Yet to actually hold it in your hand, to see it and smell it and crack open the spine for the first time? Moments to be treasured, certainly.

Scout (now in her 20s and known by most as Jean-Louise) still feels like a real person and not just a written character, a reflection of how autobiographical the character supposedly is for Harper Lee. Jean-Louise still defies the expectations around her, golfing with the men on a Saturday morning instead of having coffee with the ladies of the neighborhood, or “skinny-dipping” while fully clothed in the nearby river. The fascinating little girl grew up to be an equally fascinating young woman.

I have to admit that I initially disliked the change of narrative style in the second book. While Mockingbird is told in first-person perspective by Scout herself, Watchman is told in third-person, with a more omnipresent narrator. I felt this removed me, as a reader, from the intimacy of the first book. It did not ultimately damage the story at all, but it took a moment to re-orient myself after such a recent re-read of the first book.

The “revival” scene. Oh, man. It’s a flashback chapter in the book, and not terribly long, but had me laughing out loud as I read it. Especially the “punchline” of the scene. I won’t reveal any more details, but suffice it to say it is a rare and wonderfully funny moment in an otherwise quite serious story.

The town of Maycomb doesn’t seem to have changed much. People are still obstinately stuck in their expected social roles. Breaking out of that norm seems almost like a taboo for most people. As a reader not raised in such a mapped-out world, this is frustrating to see. This frustration is felt by Jean-Louise, though, and helped to place me more firmly and empathetically in her shoes.

There was a major point of contention for me with this book: Why are some of the major facts of the Tom Robinson case changed? In the first book his left arm was crippled in a cotton gin accident and his left hand is described as “useless”. In the second book it’s mentioned that Tom didn’t even have a left hand because it had been chopped off in a sawmill accident. More importantly, though, the verdict in the case is different between the books. In Watchman, this is used as a catalyst for Jean-Louise’s belief that justice is possible for everyone, no matter their background. A formative belief, certainly, and an important one, but it seems like poor editing to make it so blatantly different from the first book.

Finally, we come to Atticus. The publicity I talked about earlier mostly centered around people’s outrage that a character so morally upstanding in Mockingbird could now be attending KKK meetings and listening without complaint to hate speech about black people. Having read the book, I can say it’s important that the reader not jump to conclusions. The reasons why people do things are often not what we expect. Jean-Louise, in Watchman, reflects the reader’s own outrage and feelings of betrayal when certain unforeseen events take place. Continue the story to its conclusion, though, and we all may find our assumptions did not match with reality. Atticus remains an intriguing and exquisitely crafted character. Ultimately flawed, and human, just like the rest of us. But still a man his daughter could be proud of.

The “hero’s fall from grace” is such a powerful part of this story. While the first book wove into its narration themes of justice and equality, the themes here seem to be about breaking out of expectations (both those imposed by others and those imposed by oneself), and how important it is for us to realize that our heroes are not perfect. Jean-Louise’s epiphany about Atticus toward the end of the novel is one many of us have experienced, and it is a transformative one. We can never attain the heights reached by gods, but we can always strive to be truly human heroes.

We, the reading public, may never know if Go Set a Watchman is the authentically re-worked “first draft” that went on to change and become what we now know as To Kill a Mockingbird. Rumors and speculation abound about whether it was merely a “cash-grab” from the publishing house and Lee’s “protector”, Tonja Carter. Harper Lee is now an old and frail nursing home resident who, despite having survived a stroke, is most likely reaching the end of her time here on Earth. She’ll leave behind a legacy of one Pulitzer Prize-winning novel — which no one can deny deserves its place in American history — and one sequel/prequel/sequel of questionable origin. Go Set a Watchman may not be as powerful or as poignant or as memorable as its predecessor, but it’s still a story which deserves to be told. Don’t they all? Even the worst-laid stories should get their chance to be told. It’s impossible to tell which life they might impact.