To Kill a Mockingbird

I've never been able to tell exactly how much I'm lying when I say that I've read To Kill a Mockingbird before. In one sense, I absolutely did. My whole class read it back in eighth grade and I honest and truly looked at every page with my own eyes. I read every word. I turned every page. I knew the names of characters and the order of events. But I didn't really read it.

You could tell because I hated the book. I thought it was dull, slow paced, and had little to no redeeming qualities whatsoever. Maybe I wasn't ready for it at that young age, I don't really know. All I know is that I managed to miss everything that makes this novel good.

This novel is good.

I didn't know this until I read it this past week. Influenced by my middle school predjudices, I allowed myself to put off what I figured would be a frustratingly long and boring read until Friday night. When I finally opened the cover, I was prepared with earbuds and exciting music. I figured I'd need something to help escape the duldrums Harper Lee had in store for me. Honestly, that's all that kept me going through Part 1. I wasn't altogether interested in the childlike fascination with Boo Radley nor did I give a hoot about Jem reading to an old lady.

It was in Part 2 that the novel took off. All of a sudden I was entraced by the trial of a black man in the deep south where the hatred for his race was wild and uncontained. I knew Tom would be found guilty. I knew it. Harper Lee didn't write a fantasy novel. Tom would be found guilty. But knowing doesn't stop it from stinging.

Even as it stung, though, I was proud of how the trio - Jem, Scout, and Dill - reacted. Too young to know that this was the expected outcome, they were shocked. There were tears. It was a beautiful moment and powerfully written.

I couldn't wait to see where the story would go next and read hurriedly. I can't explain exactly what I thought would happen, but it didn't. Jem was struggling with the outcome and fighting an internal battle but then he just gave up. He didn't want to talk about it because he couldn't come to terms with it. And overnight he became totally disenchanted with the world.

Had the trial happened again with the same outcome, I don't know that Jem's face would have been "streaked with angry tears" like the first time. He would have taken it in stride, bitterly proclaimed that it was simply the way the world was, and gone on his way. And that makes me sad.

After the trial, Jem asked, "How could they do it, how could they?" to which Atticus replied, "I don't know, but they did it. They've done it before and they did it tonight and they'll do it again and when they do it-seems only that the children weep."

I never want to grow up to the point that I'm not among the weeping, but I fear Jem did.