SPOILERS ahead.
Sequels are usually not good. Sometimes it’s because it’s
merely a lazy rehashing of the original. At other times, it tries to do
something new and creative that fails to meld perfectly with the original plot.
Most often than not, though, sequels are doomed from the very start because the
audience expects – even demands – for the movie to possess all the elements of
the first story, and wants these elements to surprise and astonish them anew.
When it was announced that Go Set a Watchman would be
published as the sequel to Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird, I was wary more
than I was excited. It had been decades since Lee published her writing and she
had said before that she would not be releasing any more novels after
Mockingbird
There had been huge controversy over the novel. Prior to
this, Lee had not made known any plans to publish he novels. Many critics had
noted that the announcement came a mere two months after the death of Lee
sister and caretaker, Alice. The
circumstances seem to point to Lee having been taken advantage of by lawyers,
literary agents, and publishers.
Yet, putting aside the questionable publication of the
novel, the novel sold like hotcakes. People were excited by the prospect of
reading the sequel to a beloved classic.
Some, if not most, came out feeling disappointed.
I’ve read some of the reviews and opinions of the book, and
having read the summary, I knew to expect the revelation of “another side” of
Atticus Finch. A Wide Sargasso Sea-esque twist that tramples upon the reader’s
original opinion of his character.
I was dreading it. I was dreading it not so much at having
to witness dirt being thrown at a much adored character, but more so because I
was worried that it would not be handled delicately. That it would be exaggerated.
Sensationalised. And quite frankly, lame. I’ve not been impressed with
Dumbledore’s “dark past”, just because the way he talked, the way he acted –
his motives, his actions, really jar with what we know of him throughout the
books. And I think it was even worse when he was explaining his backstory. It’s
fine if he’s done a complete U-turn in his life, but Dumbledore just acted so
strangely after the big reveal.
So I was readying myself for a “transformation” or a
“retelling” of Atticus a la Dumbledore.
But as I read the novel, (admittedly I bought the book
despite the controversy), I was pleasantly surprised. Maybe I had low
expectations of the book in the first place, but I’m glad to say that the book
was gripping and had me devouring its narrative quickly.
There are flaws in the novel, however. No doubt about that.
For one, the cast of sparkling, diverse characters in the original is not
there. We have a few interesting
characters by way of Uncle Jack and Henry Clinton, but even they were not
explored in-depth for us to have insight into their inner lives. Jem, my
favourite character from the original, is announced to have been dead on page
13. It was hard for me to accept.
The writing, crisp and smooth in the original, is uneven
here. There are passages that are downright clever. But there was a lack of
clear structuring, a lack of pruning. There were times when Lee used more
Modernist techniques like stream-of-consciousness, or even pastiche by weaving
in little ditties or hymns. But these seem really out of place with the rest of
the novel.
There can be a lack of subtlety in the language as well.
Everything seems to be right on the surface. While in the original – poignancy
was overlaid with a host of other emotions, this novel can at certain points
seem like a hysterical rant.
Yet despite its technical failings, the novel could have
potentially been a great artistic masterpiece simply because the ideas and
complicated tensions it raises are in truth much richer than that of the
original. Writer Ursula Le Guin notes that Lee explores a lot of questions the original evades. In TKAM, right was right and wrong was wrong. Atticus was the
hero that every reader was rooting for, and it was easy for us to pledge our
allegiance to him.
But what I love about this novel is not that we are given
new “horrifying insight” into Atticus. Jean Louis had her perception of Atticus
crumble, as do ours. But I thought Lee handled this shift brilliantly. Atticus
did not pull a 180-degree turn, he didn’t have a dark history that we stumble
upon, he wasn’t secretly racist all this while.
Atticus wasn’t a Dumbledore. He didn’t suddenly act strangely after the big reveal. He was still him, everything he says or does is in
keeping with the character we know.
In the novel, Jean Louise becomes disillusioned when she
discovers her father, who had defended a black man who was falsely accused of
rape, is fighting against a Supreme Court’s decision to declare state laws
establishing segregation as unconstitutional.
Yet the “moral case” here is less straightforward. I don’t
personally agree with Uncle Jack’s assertion that “every man’s watchman” is his
own conscience or that there is no such thing as a “collective conscious”. In
short, I don’t think that ethics and values are relative or subjective. But I
think that Lee was fleshing out the implications of imposing moral values upon
people who live by a different ethical coda.
There are those who are utterly sickened by the thought that
Atticus would oppose the Supreme Court’s decision, or the efforts of the NAACP,
the organisation that serves to advance the education and rights of
African-Americans. Yet Atticus challenges the normative views by raising
interesting questions. Can what the Supreme Court decrees be imposed upon
counties in the South – whose sociological fabric is much different from that
of its northern neighbours? Does the NAACP care about how to systematically
bring about education and welfare of the blacks in the South, or are they
merely concerned with giving unlimited democratic power to a group who may or
may not be ready to govern themselves?
I think what was interesting too is how Jean Louise goes from
railing against the racism of her family, to realising her own bigotry. As much
as Jean Louise is disillusioned about her father’s moral judgment, it was a
great moment when she had realised her quickness in shunning the opinions of
others. Her inability to give elbow room for the opinions of others ironically
exposed her fragile faith in her own convictions. If one were to truly hold
strong to one’s belief, accepting and understanding (though not necessarily
conforming to) other views becomes okay.
I think I was especially enraptured by the novel, given the current
political climate in the US. I see some parallels in the way members from both
parties dismiss the views of the other. And the way some label those from the
South as uneducated and ignorant; and how those from the North are labelled as
being uppity and “elitist” to an extent. Instead of coming into a dialogue with
them, they have shut them off.
These were interesting issues that have huge relevance in
our time as much as in Lee’s. Had it been crafted more lovingly, it would have
been a perfect standalone book.
The thing is, however, this “sequel” was actually the first
draft for To Kill a Mockingbird, lending greater credence to the assertion that
Lee had been coerced into publishing it. I detest sensationalism, and how
sequels have typically been marketed to offer a “retelling” that most often
than not should have remained untold.
But I think keeping in mind how Lee used this draft as a
means to shape her ideas for TKAM, the novel doesn’t disappoint. In fact, some
of the complex questions it raises adds to the novel rather than detracts from it.
It is a message of seeing things through the eyes of another, which is drawn
out in the original, but explored in a more layered, nuanced way in this draft-sequel.
