I finally got my hands on Harper Lee’s much discussed Go Set a Watchman, the sequel to her iconic To Kill a Mockingbird, and finished reading it last week. I’m still digesting what I think about it, unable to make up my mind about its philosophical intentions and literary worthiness.
Let me begin by saying right up front, this is not a good book as a piece of written text. Its point of view is a mess, its flashbacks don’t serve the greater purpose I believe Lee is hoping for, and its lack of plot comes off as amateurish instead of modern, as nothing of import occurs in the first 100 pages. But all of this does not mean it is an unimportant book. A book can be bad and still accomplish something useful.
GSAW differs from TKAM in that it attempts to tackle adult issues honestly. Too many readers hold TKAM in such high regard that they neglect its many flaws. Flannery O’Connor, perhaps America’s greatest Southern author, once wondered if all those people buying TKAM realized they were actually buying a children’s book. TKAM, though a rather good book, lacks legitimate social critique through its stereotyping of blacks and poor whites alike, and draws the complexities of law, race, and history much too simply. This can all be forgiven, and probably rightly so, since its story is predominantly told from Scout’s point of view. We can forgive Scout for her lack of awareness, but not necessarily Lee.
But in GSAW, Lee does tackle these cultural nuances, albeit way too late in the novel, in a rather interesting and unexpected way. Much has been made of Atticus Finch’s emergence as a different man, and a deeper character in my opinion, than we knew in TKAM, to the dismay of those who have idolized him since childhood. Malcolm Gladwell presciently wrote in The New Yorker back in 2009 that there may be more to Atticus than meets the eye. Other critics suspected this as well. The New York Times, the UK Independent, and others were quick to call Atticus a bigot in their reviews. But bigotry takes on many forms, and as Scout (Jean Louise in GSAW) is told, she might be one as well. Her progressivism, though not wrong, is exposed by her father and uncle as mostly naïve, and she is left wondering if she ever actually knew the real Atticus. Jean Louise is mostly an immature brat in GSAW, a 26 year-old now living in New York with a developed sense of elitism and an inability to make adult decisions. And her anger, though reasonable, lacks a sense of history and recognition of human complexity.
The most important thing we learn in the new book is that Atticus’s legendary defense in the original story is perhaps not the particular brand of courage and nobility we once admired. Atticus defended Tom Robinson, not for the greater symbolism of social justice, an ambition so many have placed upon him since the book’s publication, but simply for his respect for the law. Tom deserved a vigorous defense not because he was black, but because that’s what all citizens deserve. Atticus reveals in GSAW that his belief in the law continued with him throughout his life, even if that belief did not always align with progressive ideologies. He defended states’ rights. He defended the Constitution. Does that automatically condemn someone as a bigot?
In Jean Louise’s refusal to hear other people’s opinions, her uncle calls her a bigot. The tables are turned on her, as she, the enlightened, progressive Northerner, is shown her own close-mindedness, her own refusal to consider the views of others. Reading this passage, I couldn’t help but think of all the college students and professional protesters who shout down speakers with whom they disagree, rather than engage in earnest discussion and thoughtful debate. Part of being a human, and an American in particular, should be our willingness to listen to others and dialogue intelligently, even if we believe them to be fools.
Is Atticus a bigot? Perhaps. He does view blacks as inferior, at least at the particular point in history that the novel depicts. However, so did one of America’s greatest black heroes, Booker T. Washington, a few decades earlier. Washington would have likely agreed with Atticus, as he pushed for social progress by means of individual labor, economic success, and advanced education. Only after those were attained, he believed, could blacks make a strong argument for political equality. Now, many may disagree with Washington, as W.E.B. Dubois did, but it’s hard to say such a position, as originally offered by Washington (himself a brilliant and respected black American), is bigoted.
We have the luxury of examining Atticus from a very different perspective, one in which all Americans are more equal now than ever before, and America itself is the greatest place in the world for people of all cultures to thrive. But the American South looked very different in Atticus’s time, and the people of Maycomb County were doing the best they could to change with the times, while still maintaining (rightly or wrongly) their cultural heritage and political beliefs.
There is a way to improve one's surroundings, and Atticus has chosen the law as his path. He fights for the rights of all, according to the Constitution. The problem with Jean Louise, and so many that claim to believe as she does, is that she does not take any action. Equality is simply expected, and her progressive mind assumes that everyone will agree with her. She lacks wisdom, and she lacks the temerity to truly involve herself, in productive and practical ways, in her own worldview. She does not agree with Atticus’s method, and we may not either, hoping he would do even more, but at least he’s doing something. And he’s doing it in the only way he knows how and in the only way that can actually affect the people in his small town and in their, perhaps, outmoded way of life—through the fundamentals of the law.
The Constitution is our most important document. And it has been shown to be an imperfect document, thus the need for so many amendments. But it is that imperfection for which Atticus stands. He believes in the process, and eliding that process for the sake of someone’s vague notion of “equality” or “social justice” is against the principles of the law to which he has devoted his life. We make not like this version of Atticus, but that is the man we now see.
Atticus Finch has long topped the American Film Institute’s list of the greatest heroes in film. He is probably the most cited inspiration for law students. And he has received a glowing personal endorsement from President Obama himself. However, the line between idolizing and dehumanizing is perilously thin.
I believe the primary message of GSAW is that we must be careful where we put our faith and avoid making gods out of mere men. Atticus is not the icon we once knew, and perhaps we as readers are better for it. He is wise, he is caring, and he respects all. But, alas, he is also flawed, he is stubborn, and he lacks the will to change his nature. He is, in more ways than we would like to admit, just like all of us. Atticus is, after all, human. And that’s the best type of character to read about.
Let me begin by saying right up front, this is not a good book as a piece of written text. Its point of view is a mess, its flashbacks don’t serve the greater purpose I believe Lee is hoping for, and its lack of plot comes off as amateurish instead of modern, as nothing of import occurs in the first 100 pages. But all of this does not mean it is an unimportant book. A book can be bad and still accomplish something useful.
GSAW differs from TKAM in that it attempts to tackle adult issues honestly. Too many readers hold TKAM in such high regard that they neglect its many flaws. Flannery O’Connor, perhaps America’s greatest Southern author, once wondered if all those people buying TKAM realized they were actually buying a children’s book. TKAM, though a rather good book, lacks legitimate social critique through its stereotyping of blacks and poor whites alike, and draws the complexities of law, race, and history much too simply. This can all be forgiven, and probably rightly so, since its story is predominantly told from Scout’s point of view. We can forgive Scout for her lack of awareness, but not necessarily Lee.
But in GSAW, Lee does tackle these cultural nuances, albeit way too late in the novel, in a rather interesting and unexpected way. Much has been made of Atticus Finch’s emergence as a different man, and a deeper character in my opinion, than we knew in TKAM, to the dismay of those who have idolized him since childhood. Malcolm Gladwell presciently wrote in The New Yorker back in 2009 that there may be more to Atticus than meets the eye. Other critics suspected this as well. The New York Times, the UK Independent, and others were quick to call Atticus a bigot in their reviews. But bigotry takes on many forms, and as Scout (Jean Louise in GSAW) is told, she might be one as well. Her progressivism, though not wrong, is exposed by her father and uncle as mostly naïve, and she is left wondering if she ever actually knew the real Atticus. Jean Louise is mostly an immature brat in GSAW, a 26 year-old now living in New York with a developed sense of elitism and an inability to make adult decisions. And her anger, though reasonable, lacks a sense of history and recognition of human complexity.
The most important thing we learn in the new book is that Atticus’s legendary defense in the original story is perhaps not the particular brand of courage and nobility we once admired. Atticus defended Tom Robinson, not for the greater symbolism of social justice, an ambition so many have placed upon him since the book’s publication, but simply for his respect for the law. Tom deserved a vigorous defense not because he was black, but because that’s what all citizens deserve. Atticus reveals in GSAW that his belief in the law continued with him throughout his life, even if that belief did not always align with progressive ideologies. He defended states’ rights. He defended the Constitution. Does that automatically condemn someone as a bigot?
In Jean Louise’s refusal to hear other people’s opinions, her uncle calls her a bigot. The tables are turned on her, as she, the enlightened, progressive Northerner, is shown her own close-mindedness, her own refusal to consider the views of others. Reading this passage, I couldn’t help but think of all the college students and professional protesters who shout down speakers with whom they disagree, rather than engage in earnest discussion and thoughtful debate. Part of being a human, and an American in particular, should be our willingness to listen to others and dialogue intelligently, even if we believe them to be fools.
Is Atticus a bigot? Perhaps. He does view blacks as inferior, at least at the particular point in history that the novel depicts. However, so did one of America’s greatest black heroes, Booker T. Washington, a few decades earlier. Washington would have likely agreed with Atticus, as he pushed for social progress by means of individual labor, economic success, and advanced education. Only after those were attained, he believed, could blacks make a strong argument for political equality. Now, many may disagree with Washington, as W.E.B. Dubois did, but it’s hard to say such a position, as originally offered by Washington (himself a brilliant and respected black American), is bigoted.
We have the luxury of examining Atticus from a very different perspective, one in which all Americans are more equal now than ever before, and America itself is the greatest place in the world for people of all cultures to thrive. But the American South looked very different in Atticus’s time, and the people of Maycomb County were doing the best they could to change with the times, while still maintaining (rightly or wrongly) their cultural heritage and political beliefs.
There is a way to improve one's surroundings, and Atticus has chosen the law as his path. He fights for the rights of all, according to the Constitution. The problem with Jean Louise, and so many that claim to believe as she does, is that she does not take any action. Equality is simply expected, and her progressive mind assumes that everyone will agree with her. She lacks wisdom, and she lacks the temerity to truly involve herself, in productive and practical ways, in her own worldview. She does not agree with Atticus’s method, and we may not either, hoping he would do even more, but at least he’s doing something. And he’s doing it in the only way he knows how and in the only way that can actually affect the people in his small town and in their, perhaps, outmoded way of life—through the fundamentals of the law.
The Constitution is our most important document. And it has been shown to be an imperfect document, thus the need for so many amendments. But it is that imperfection for which Atticus stands. He believes in the process, and eliding that process for the sake of someone’s vague notion of “equality” or “social justice” is against the principles of the law to which he has devoted his life. We make not like this version of Atticus, but that is the man we now see.
Atticus Finch has long topped the American Film Institute’s list of the greatest heroes in film. He is probably the most cited inspiration for law students. And he has received a glowing personal endorsement from President Obama himself. However, the line between idolizing and dehumanizing is perilously thin.
I believe the primary message of GSAW is that we must be careful where we put our faith and avoid making gods out of mere men. Atticus is not the icon we once knew, and perhaps we as readers are better for it. He is wise, he is caring, and he respects all. But, alas, he is also flawed, he is stubborn, and he lacks the will to change his nature. He is, in more ways than we would like to admit, just like all of us. Atticus is, after all, human. And that’s the best type of character to read about.