Go Set A Watchman: A Book Review

Since the dawn of the age of time I have made deals with myself about the books that I read.

(It’s like I am always trying to trick myself into following some convoluted rules.  Be careful.  If you are my friend for long I will try to trick you into playing along.)

After Allume, my stack of want-to-read books is on the verge of toppling across the floor so I decided to refocus my reading intentions.

Generally my go-to reading pattern looks a little like this: fiction. fiction. non-fiction. fiction.  classic.  fiction. non-fiction.  And then repeat.  (This list is, of course, steadily interspersed with young adult fiction with the kids and historical fiction with the kids and an educational resource for, well, educational purposes.)

I’ve been meaning to toss in there (because of my love of rules and more work for myself apparently) a requirement to write a review for each book before I proceed to the next one.

That’s where I am right now.

With glee and anticipation I ordered my copy of Go Set A Watchman by Harper Lee earlier this summer.  I started it back in July.  I finished it last night.  In between I read lots of books with the kids, a couple of other random books and a whole lot of articles and magazines.

This was a difficult book for me.

I felt obligated to read this novel.  Shoot, I felt obligated to like this novel.  I mean, one of my daughters is named after the main character in To Kill A Mockingbird.  It’s a book I am attached to in a sort of unhealthy way I think.

And so – I started the book.  And, well, you can see from the distance between my start date and my finish date that it didn’t end up being one of those I’m-willing-to-put-my-life-on-hold-until-I-finish-this-novel kinds of books.

Even as I force myself to type this review, I still don’t really know what I think.

I’m not going to address the entire scenario of whether this book should have even been published, if it’s the real deal, if Harper Lee is really capable of deciding if she wants this novel in the hands of the public or any of that.

I just want to talk about the words.  The story.  My friends – Jem and Atticus and Scout.

They are still there.  Sort of.  Kind of disfigured and disrobed and aged and out of sorts.  They exist.  But – they don’t read the same.  They read a little too – like platforms or mouth pieces and I can’t say I like what they’re preaching.

It’s hard to share without giving away the story’s thrust and I can’t stand when that happens to me so I’ll do my best to spare it from happening to you.

I would not say this book shouldn’t be read.

There are some thought-provoking ideas in here and there remains a paragraph or six, a chapter here and there, a conversation on a page or two, that is lovely and profound and worth mulling over and pondering.  But between those bits, there is a wealth of this and that unnecessary and somehow lacking, coupled with a forced feeling that just doesn’t sit well with my affections for Scout and Atticus and Maycomb.

At the end of it all, I sort of wish I’d never seen or heard of a grown up Jean Louise or Atticus Finch.  I want to see Atticus through her little girl eyes.  (And so does she.  The novel’s primary story line, really.)

It would be a lie to say I wasn’t a bit disappointed in this late release sequel/prequel sort of book.  (I do like the title, however.  I like the meaning behind the title and the concept of setting a watchman.  An idea I’ll let you unearth for yourself as you read the novel.)

Maybe I’m a little like Scout – the grown up one in this novel.  And I don’t want to be.  Maybe I don’t want my view of Atticus altered because I really liked the way he was because the way he was said something about me too.  About what I want to be true and what I want to be possible about men and mankind.

This new novel breaks that apart.  It doesn’t just let him fall, like Humpty Dumpty from his wall.  It takes a pretty big shove and dashes Atticus to the ground.

Of course, when that happens, something has to break inside Scout as well.  And the thing that breaks inside of her is the same thing that breaks inside of me, as a reader and as a faithful believer in the security of Atticus Finch.  And, frankly, little old Scout doesn’t come out all that clean on the other side either.  That sort of stings too.

You know it’s like any character that’s your favorite.  You can’t wreck what we love about Zeek Braverman.  Come on, you wouldn’t be happy if a new Parenthood episode was aired and Zeek turned out to be a bit of a falsehood in all the ways that really mattered.  If Zeek held secret beliefs that were anti-family and was working to break up the Braverman clan.  What if Coach Taylor on Friday Night Lights was a secret fan of soccer instead and really was only coaching football to get himself ready to coach soccer?

Yeah.  Those are ridiculous scenarios and foolish comparisons.  (And evidence of what I’ve been streaming on Netflix of late.)

But the premise is on track.  If Huckleberry Finn’s life story gets rewritten and re-cast as a kid who is promoting slavery instead of rescuing Jim, your whole view of the raggedy likable fellow shifts and you’re left feeling as if you loved an imposter.  You’re left trying to defend his actions because of what you thought you knew about him before the rewrite.

That’s how Go Set A Watchman leaves me feeling.

Like I have to make excuses for loving To Kill A Mockingbird as much as I do.