A MAGNUM OPUS. Review on To Kill A Mockingbird - Harper Lee

These days, kids read a lot- drama, tragedy, romance, thriller, horror, classics and what not. As for me, I missed many literary gems when in school and have been going back to see what I overlooked. I’ve been guilty of indolence and am catching up ever since, by reading a lot- sense and nonsense. My next stop? “To Kill A Mocking Bird”- Harper Lee’s debut novel, a two-fifty page long, 1960s classic.

My anticipation going in was that this would be a “coming of age” chronicle of sorts about the culture of the Southern US. It is that to a certain degree. The first section of the book settles into that pattern, telling of childish exploits, summers of freedom, town legends, loved and hated relatives, and confrontations with the class structure prevalent. But, Lee has both a fine eye for characterization and pacing and a deft touch with dialect. Childish pranks and dares, usually leave me cold, but the characters are so vivid and deep and the relationship between Scout and her father- so touching- that I didn't mind the plot. The story is written somewhat in the dialect of the region, but Lee uses this just enough to give the account flavor and not so much that I had difficulty following it. I blatantly guessed at terms in a few places, but by and large the reading experience was smooth: -

Scout and her elder brother are children growing up in the backyards and fields of small-town Alabama in the 1930s. When the book opens, Scout is set to begin her schooling. Their father, Atticus Finch, is a venerated lawyer and a legislative for the region. Their mother died when Scout was two, and Atticus has raised them with the help of a Negro nurse. Atticus is about to take on, at the request of the court, a case of a black man accused of raping a white woman, a case that will stress the town and the Finch family and uncover both the prejudice and the dignity of the people of the town, Maycomb(and the society in  general).

This first section is not the heart of the book; it's only the background and cultural introduction. Soon, Atticus is drawn into the trial, the children start taking insults because their father is defending a black man, and the tension rises markedly. The lines of class and race that have been in the story from the beginning become more pronounced, and Atticus's quiet insistence on the basic worth of human beings becomes more relevant and poignant. The climax, about two-thirds through the book, of the trial is one of the most engrossing and emotionally affecting pieces of literature I've ever read.

This is not a triumphant book, nor is it an angry one. It's a story about ‘seeing people as people’ about ‘taking small changes where feasible’, about ‘being decent and suave’. It deals with difficult attitudes that don't change easily, overnight. Lee presents a prodigious picture of a father trying both to raise idealistic children and yearning to do the right thing even when the right outcome isn't possible. Despite all the reason for pessimism, it's a book that helps one appreciate their fellows and provides reason for hope.

The end of the book ties back to one of the sub-plots of the beginning and follows the return of the town to something approaching normalcy. There is continuing dramatic tension, but it's more personal, closer to home, and doesn't feel as significant. The reader’s got to stay with it, though, as Lee is going to a whole new level with the conclusion. In the last few pages, she ties together the desire for action, the humane perspective, the flaws and fallout of any mortal action. The inherent dignity of mankind is vivid in scenes that, though quieter and less grand than the courtroom, have nearly as much depth.

“To Kill a Mockingbird” dares the reader to react, both to Scout and with her, to the politics of the town that are slowly revealed. If anything, I think the book is more effective fifty years later when no one speaks of blacks even the way that Atticus does(but with racism still present, just unspoken). The modern reader has an ingrained and immediate dislike towards the racists that Lee plays off, both using it to increase our sympathy for Atticus and to make the reader go back and reconsider impressions of people who seemed vile on first glance. This book left me with a strong sense of the slow moral arc of the universe— an appreciation for small gains, the slow pace at which people are able to change, and the dignity of attempting despite pitfalls.

Lastly, if you've been avoiding this book out of fear that it is literary without being entertaining, don't. The plot may not sound that appealing, but the characterisation is exceptional and the dramatic payoff is top notch. Regardless of any deeper moral point, this is simply good storytelling and deserves to be as celebrated as it is.