The Novel | To Kill A Mockingbird

Author: Harper Lee

Theme: Understanding the whys and wherefores of human motivation

Do: Try and honestly place yourself on the spectrum of tolerance

Don't: Make the mistake of confining this story to race relations in the American South

Spoilers: Delicately avoiding them


"Are you reading To Kill A Mockingbird again?"

"Ahaha, yes... again, right you are. Read it countless times, American classic, know it off by heart..."

The lovely problem of being a long-term incurable addict to books is that most of the people you meet assume that you have read a significant proportion of the great classics. And the modern classics. And the niche bits and pieces like The Lost World or The Midwich Cuckoos. It is an unutterably flattering and pleasing state of affairs when those around you presume the bookshelves of your mind are chockablock with Austen and Hollinghurst and Sartre and Dickens and Kureishi and Beckett and Wodehouse and Wharton.

It is, unfortunately, pure shite. You're about half as likely to find something with a heaving bosom or geometric spaceship on its cover in my extensive library of books well read and loved. I'll read the back of cereal packets and old receipts and occasionally what someone is tapping out on Twitter beside me on the train (don't tell me you haven't done it too...) Indiscriminate constant reader, that's me.

So when I picked up "To Kill a Mockingbird" for the first time I had that dreadful feeling of standing in front of an elderly relative you promised to call every Sunday but what with one thing and another, you've somehow ended up completely forgetting to speak to them for four years.

"Apologies," I whisper and pat the cover affectionately.

My first thought in these reviews, is what inspires these books that became so culturally important to us as a people. In the case of Mockingbird, it is the truth. To whit, the book is semi-autobiographical and inspired by happenings and circumstances in Lee's own life. Her father practiced law in Munroe County, Alabama and once defended two black men accused of murdering a white shopkeeper. Both clients were hanged.

Your image of Mockingbird may well be of Gregory Peck standing manfully before a courthouse and proclaiming a young black man's innocence of the crime of raping a white woman. In the novel itself, the trial makes up only the smallest percentage of the prose.

Our narrator is Jean Louise Scout Finch, daughter of Atticus Finch, public defender of Tom Robinson. Everything that happens in Maycomb County, Alabama is relayed to us through the filter of Scout.

Using a child as a narrator is a wonderful device. Children have boundless curiosity and no inbuilt bias. Children are constantly learning and growing. We learn with Scout, we understand with Scout, we grow up with Scout.

So why should you read Mockingbird?

I remember a concept from one of the late great Terry Pratchett's books at this moment. The further down the social ladder you climb the more and more rungs there are - and the spaces between them become very small indeed.

Mockingbird surprised me by not being a book about race relations in the America South, but a book about human relations and the arbitrary dividing lines we draw between ourselves and others. When taken to extremes, this alienation results in crosses burning in front yards and crazed mobs taking 'justice' into their own bloody hands. In seemingly ordinary citizens dragging young black men and women from Woolworth's lunch counters and spitting on freshly enrolled students students walking up to the entryway of the University of Mississippi.

The most unsettling thing to realize is that the same sentiment is ever-present in everyday life and everyday interactions. It is an immense underlying facet of the human condition. And I think you should read Mockingbird to become aware of that tendency to divide up the human race and hold up a mirror to where you draw your lines.

The obvious starting point in any discussion on Mockingbird is the shocking treatment of Tom Robinson during trial - from the mutterings of the womenfolk of Maycomb to the lynch mob that arrives one night outside his jail cell. Far more erudite pens (well, keyboards) than mine have made discourse on the impact of this novel on the collective understanding of racism and the experience of black people in 1930's Deep South. All I will say is that I would much rather read something written by the child of a Tom Robinson than of an Atticus Finch if my main goal was to explore that particular issue. Mockingbird is a good read - but if you want to truly understand prejudice and persecution I would very much recommend The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin, Negroland A Memoir by Margo Jefferson or Welcome to Braggsville by T Geronimo Johnson.

Mockingbird is a brilliant book - but when you've finished with the daughter of the warden, read something by the prisoner's children if you want a rounded worldview.

But on to humanity as a whole and how we divide each other. The book is not just about the division between black and white. Every single chapter highlights difference and what it means to be on the wrong side of a perceived 'normal.' I'd like to take a look at that, because few other reviews have.

Jem and Scout Finch are fascinated by their shut-in neighbor, Boo Radley, about whom they make up games, call names and generally do their best to draw out of his mysterious house. It is accepted that Boo Radley is an oddity and weirdo.

Miss Maudie is the Finch's neighbor and cultivates beautiful azaleas in her well-tended garden. But when the Baptists roll past her house in their horse-drawn buggies they glare and pronounce her garden to be a sin. Miss Maudie is destined for hellfire and brimstone.

The Ewells are central to Mockingbird. Robert E Lee Ewell, or Bob Ewell to his questionable friends, is the father of Mayella Ewell, the defendant. The Ewells live beside a garbage dump, the children run about unsupervised and undernourished, unloved and un-looked for - the Ewells are looked down upon by every member of the Maycomb society. One of the most striking lines of the book is Tom Robinson's confession. Not an admissions of guilt. No no no - he "felt sorry" for Mayella Ewell.

Jem and Scout Finch themselves are subject to the ire of their classmates, children of a man who defends those the rest of the county views as less than human. Different, different, different.

It is worth reading this book to think about how many distinctions you draw in your life - without realizing it. I would hope we all keep a careful eye on ourselves for instances of bigotry, rascism or sexism. But day to day, do you treat the waiter as politely and respectfully as you treat your manager as you treat you friends as your bus driver as your dentist as your binman as your fleeting flashes with people on your commute? I think we should. Unless we're Elon Musk, in which case, you just sit in a quiet room until we find you the professional help you need.

George Orwell said it best in Animal Farm, through the medium of Snowball the Pig - "four legs good, two legs bad." We humans take prejudicial basis a lot further than approved number of appendages...

Lastly, you should read this book to introduce yourself to Atticus Finch. As well as being almost blind in one eye (#myhero #wedontneeddepthperception #Atticusgetsme and I suppose obviously #metoo) he is a quiet, measured presence who dedicates himself to doing what is right above all. He is compassionate and level-headed, a trier who stands by his principles. We could all stand to be a little more like Atticus.


A Young Author's Inspiration

"I wanted you to see what real courage is...courage is when you know you're licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what."

This, I hope obviously is an Atticus quote. It resonated a heck of a lot. Because we talk a lot about hope and trial and error and always believing in the best possible outcome. But what is so particularly important is to keep going when you know there is no chance of success. To keep doing what is right, what you believe in, and what you love, even if you will fail. Conviction is key.

And, somewhat selfishly, I adhere to Atticus' creed in the writing business. And I jot down the three rejections that popped up in my inbox this week - and keep seeing it through, no matter what.

A Very Devlin View