The Mystery of the Mockingbird

Last week, I wrote about my recent experience of reading Go Set a Watchman a full two years after its publication. I didn't re-read any of the reviews that accompanied its debut before writing my own because I didn't want to be influenced by what anyone else had said about it. The fact that this book even came out was controversial in some quarters; I, personally, have no objection to the publication of variations of an author's work, but in this case I was reluctant to read Watchman because of my affection for To Kill a Mockingbird, which dates back to the sixth grade. In a world in which hardly anything (OK, let's just be honest and say nothing) seems sacred any more, I was reluctant to have my Harper Lee bubble burst. Let some things remain as they are.

I realize that some critics don't even think Mockingbird is all that great a book--despite the Pulitzer Prize--but when I first read it I was positively floored by Ms. Lee's ability to capture the essence of small-town life and render it on the page. I felt that surely I knew all of those people, had walked down those streets, and had maybe even dressed up as a ham, as Scout did, for the Maycomb pageant--the story was that vivid and realistic. From that hour to this, I am still in awe of the verisimilitude Ms. Lee achieved in those pages.

I'm also aware that some commentators have been dismissive of Ms. Lee's treatment of race relations and her portrayal of Atticus as a champion of blacks in Mockingbird. While the trial of Tom Robinson is obviously at the center of the novel, for me, as for many others, it's the characters, the setting, and the details of everyday life that make this novel such a triumph, above and beyond its message about tolerance. While Maycomb, Alabama, is very distinctly a specific place at a specific time, it also has a universality that raises it to an almost mythic status: it's an Everytown--and we have all been there.

Besides reacting to Watchman as a reader, I also have a reaction as a writer--which I was not when I first read Mockingbird all those years ago (well, I guess I was a baby writer then but not a professional one). While the reader was not at all anxious to be let down, the writer was curious to see what an alternative vision of Maycomb's characters might look like, and the writer won out. Having read the book, and read or re-read some of the reviews of Watchman from two years ago, I've come to realize that my original objections--based on a personal reaction to its premise as well as reports that Ms. Lee may not have fully participated in the decision to publish--don't even go as far as those of some other people. Some reviewers (notably Adam Gopnik of The New Yorker and Maureen Corrigan of National Public Radio) have questioned the official publisher's version of events, wondering if in fact the book as published could even be simply an early draft of To Kill a Mockingbird.

That there have reportedly been inconsistencies in the stories of those who are said to have found the Watchman manuscript certainly adds fuel to the fire of any supposition that there is some mystery behind the novel. However, Mr. Gopnik, in particular, has gone further, saying that Watchman seems to require of the reader a prior familiarity with the people and events of Mockingbird even to succeed as a novel. He points out that the revelation that Atticus is a white supremacist seems to depend for its shock value on a prior acquaintance with him as something very different and that the book's nostalgic flashbacks into Scout's childhood don't make sense unless you already know Scout, Jem, and Dill. Mr. Gopnik and Ms. Corrigan have speculated that Watchman, as written, must have come after Mockingbird, making it a sequel rather than an earlier version.

I don't know the true story behind this manuscript. My experience of reading the novel was that it does seem to assume knowledge of some pre-existing version of Maycomb and its characters, but not having seen the unpublished manuscript or being privy to what was in Ms. Lee's mind when she first began writing, I can't say that Watchman would have to have been written later. It's possible that at some point Ms. Lee (or someone else) went back and reworked parts of the original Watchman manuscript that was rejected in favor of the Mockingbird version.

However, I'm also aware of what I might call the "inevitability syndrome," in which the finished version of a beloved work is so familiar to everyone that it's hard to imagine it could ever have turned out any other way. I'm thinking of the many Hollywood films in which actors who have come to be identified with signature roles weren't originally scheduled to do them . . . and yet after the fact, their participation seems almost to have been preordained. So Atticus could never have been racist--"he just couldn't, that's all"--even if perhaps that's the way Ms. Lee first envisioned him.

Could something similar be affecting the way we read Go Set a Watchman, or did some reworking of the material take place after To Kill a Mockingbird had already been published? Letters between Ms. Lee and her agents reportedly documented much of the revision process that occurred while the author was turning Watchman into To Kill a Mockingbird, so presumably these questions could be answered by comparing an early draft with the manuscript that came to light in 2014, assuming they are different. If this has been done, I'm not aware of it. So the mystery of Go Set a Watchman continues, at least for now.