Deleting adjectives to have the facts....*

I first read To Kill a Mockingbird nearly 30 years ago. I came upon it unexpectedly and instantly fell in love with it. Within two years a friend who had also fallen in love with it and was looking for someone with whom to share her joy gifted me a copy. She had not planned to give it specifically to me: I just happened to drop in and it was my lucky day.

When the publication of Go Set a Watchman was announced my Bitter Half pre-ordered it for me, and I opened it fully expecting to be delighted yet again. But a kind of stunned horror awaited me there. I said nothing about the novel to anyone; just quietly picked up both books and put them on a top shelf of my bookcase, out of reach and out of direct sight.

Recently, working on Harper Lee’s biography for another project caused me to stub my toe against Atticus’ pedestal again. I was astounded to read that the Atticus of Watchman was by no means unexpected to those who had read Mockingbird; they had come up against his latent racism in the earlier text and had long been uncomfortable with the idea of Atticus as the poster boy of racial equality. Determined to find out if they were right, I re-read both books, only this time I read Watchman before Mockingbird.

My second reading of Watchman was more attentive, taking care to follow up references to NAACP and Supreme Court rulings to try and understand the race politics involved. I understood this time what I had failed to in my horror during my first perusal of the text: Jean Louise forgives her father his frailty and imperfection.

When I reread Mockingbird to detect any signs of hidden racism in Atticus, let me say upfront that I didn’t find any; at least, nothing that I had not expected. Atticus is very much a man native to the time and place to which he belongs. As such he shares the biases of Maycomb County, which he represents in the State legislature. He believes in carrying ‘the white man’s burden’ unflinchingly, yet he does so with unfailing courtesy to all. The fact that in spite of his defence of Tom Robinson he gets re-elected to the legislature shows that Maycomb accepts, and recognises, him as one of their own.

Judge Taylor assigns Tom Robinson’s case to Atticus instead of to Maxwell Green, a new lawyer who needs the practice (pun intended). Miss Maudie says that Atticus has been chosen to do what others cannot do – this makes Atticus a ‘hero’. His willingness to take the rap for defending a black man in a community so openly divided along race and class lines is no less than heroic. His consistency of courtesy and principles is seen repeatedly. As he tells Sheriff Tate towards the end of the novel, his children are all he has and he does not want to lose them through his unprincipled behaviour. Atticus is not afraid to do what he thinks needs to be done, irrespective of the opposition he may face in so doing.

Contrast this with the behaviour of a man like Mr. Dolphus Raymond who has been, for many years, in a relationship with a coloured woman and has also fathered several children on her. It is a matter of common knowledge that he drinks whisky mixed with coca cola; his drunken weaving about on the streets of the town is something everyone is familiar with, and which is dismissed as one of his eccentricities (among which consorting with the blacks is also included). It is then revealed that his ‘drinking’ habit is merely a front for ensuring he is left to his own devices. One finds that Mr. Raymond wants to have his cake and eat it too: he prefers a life spent in the company of blacks but does not have courage of his convictions. Rather than declare openly that he finds the black people admirable enough to spend his life with he uses the theatrical prop of a bottle – his drunkenness and his eccentricity get blamed rather than his preference. He says he helps people to understand his life choices by making it simpler for them; but to my mind this is just taking the easy way out. Also, it does no service either to black people in general, and his mixed race family in particular: his ‘drinking’ is akin to saying that one needs to anaesthetise oneself with alcohol to be able to spend one’s life in the company of these people. Also, Mr. Raymond shifts the responsibility for his life choices on to his inebriation rather than accept them as something he wants to do. Atticus Finch is certainly head and shoulders above such people.

Much has been written about Atticus’ attitude to race, in support or otherwise, and I do not intend to rehash the arguments. Others with a better grasp of the issues and legislations involved have made a case for or against him, and I do not feel qualified to voice an opinion in that respect. What I do want to say, however, is about Atticus Finch the man: a father, and an upstanding member of his community.

The Atticus of Mockingbird manifests both archetypes – ‘wise old man’ and ‘hero’. For Scout he is the final word on almost everything, and seeing him through her eyes we may follow her in her hero worship of him. But even taking a step back from the aura she constructs around him, to my mind Atticus does not appear as a two-faced problematic character. Rather, he is very much a product of his environment, much in the way we all are. How may of us can honestly disclaim the prevailing prejudices that we internalise without even consciously making a decision to do so? It is to Atticus’ credit then that even though a descendant of a slave-owning family he rises above the racial prejudices that are accepted as matter of course and chooses to do the right thing. Not only is he a decent man, he tries to make his children decent, too. Reading Watchman as a sequel to Mockingbird shows how well Atticus succeeds with Jean Louise – it is the ideals he has instilled in her that cause her to challenge what she feels is his disgusting kowtowing to the white supremacists.

So, the Atticus of Mockingbird, thankfully, did not cause me the kind of disappointment I was afraid I would encounter. However, there are other disturbing things in this text. For instance, the normally sensitive Atticus says nothing about the abuse Mayella Ewell faces at the hands of her father. I felt there was also a hint at sexual abuse when Tom recounts how Mayella told him she had never kissed a grown man before, and “what her papa do to her don’t count”. This may or may not be construed innocently. But Atticus only focuses on the obvious physical abuse in the form of beatings as much as it suits his purpose. Sure, he feels sorry for Mayella, but it seems to be more of an objective kind of contemptuous pity rather than his usual involved reaction. Somehow he seems not to care enough. Of course, this could also be seen as a continuation of his usual policy of ‘live and let live’; but it seems to be an irresponsible approach in this case.

Readers have also objected to the way the black community have been relegated to silence; for instance, Tom says nothing in the face of his conviction. Objections have also been made to casting them in the role of mockingbirds. Going by their description in the novel, mockingbirds imitate the songs of other birds and live only to add beauty to human lives. By analogy, the blacks seem important only as far as they are useful to the whites and seem to lack any individuality of their own.

Yet, the novel also ends by casting Arthur Radley in the role of a mockingbird. Until his dramatic rescue of Jem and Scout, Arthur has been 'Boo', a shadowy figure who serves to frighten the kids and to provide the town with the occasional titbit of gossip. Oddly enough, no voices seem raised in protest against casting an autistic man in this role (Arthur Radley has been diagnosed as being autistic by modern-day psychologists). The prejudice Tom Robinson encounters because of his race has raised multiple hackles, but not much is said about the fact that he is also physically challenged because of his damaged left arm and hand. While I do not wish to take away from the seriousness of racial discrimination, I do wish to point out that disabilities (either mental or physical) still draw insufficient attention and concern. This is another reminder (if we need it) of our myopia about our own prejudices.

And finally, what disturbed me quite a bit was a textual issue. Watchman was initially publicised as a sequel to Mockingbird; only later did the publishers accept that it was a first draft of Mockingbird. When Lee sent in her manuscript to J. B. Lippincott and Co. the editor there, Tay Hohoff, worked extensively with Lee and got her to rework the novel to make it socially acceptable in the contemporary ethos. So, the Atticus who became such a popular father, the novel that got such rave reviews and a Pulitzer, were actually envisaged by Hohoff, not Lee. Lee’s Atticus was the one seen in Watchman; Mockingbird’s Atticus was Lee’s creation under Hohoff’s coaching. Lee got all the credit; Hohoff, probably, just her salary. The editor in me is rather pained at that.

So, to conclude, Mockingbird did not disappoint me as I had feared. I did not find anything I had not seen in my first reading, and this even as I was looking for such signs. Such concern for a literary character may surprise non-readers, yet I was relieved that the Atticus of Mockingbird did not come across as a hypocrite. He is genuine in his beliefs and tries to do the best he can. And that is more that what many of us can honestly say.

* "Atticus told me to delete the adjectives and I'd have the facts." - Scout Finch, To Kill a Mockingbird