Revisiting a Mockingbird

It's odd to think about how something can mean so much to you at one point in your life but later on mean something completely different. My first car was a roaring speedster when I bought it, and thinking back now I wonder how I managed to play it so cool in that piece of crap. In college I was glued to my newest pink Motorola Razr flip phone, making me cringe as I now blog, Instagram, Tweet and run temples on my iPhone 4s.

After hitting a reading dry spell upon completion of the Hunger Games trilogy, I decided I wanted to brush up on my writing skills. As someone who finds their best mode of communication via the written word, I thought the best way to continue my rogue education was to explore what most consider classic literature. I can remember myself as an awkward 8th grader, sketching out what I imagined the infamous Boo Radley to look like as depicted in Harper Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird. I vaguely recall creating a gentle, monsteresque figure not unlike Edward Scissorhands, holding a pair of bloody sheers for a reason at the time of reminiscence I did not recall. Most of the story escaped me but I was sure that it was a book I would enjoy. That's all I needed to know. I traded in Mockingjays for Mockingbirds. I picked it up and felt instantly at home, transported to an unfamiliar time in Montgomery, Alabama.

For those of you who slept through 8th grade (because we didn't have Spark Notes back then), To Kill A Mockingbird is a story about "growing up and the human dignity that unites us all." It's a tale of attorney Atticus Finch in the court trial of his life trying to raise two children in the south, pre-pubescent Jem Finch and the narrator, Jean Louise "Scout" Finch.

Not having been able to recall the story line, one thing stood out to me above all else: I loved Scout Finch. I didn't remember why but I kept this in mind when I started reading round two. I now realize that I liked Scout at the time because I could relate to her. The narrative she displays expresses to the audience her innocent adolescence dealing with adult situations and not completely understanding them. I think I related a lot to Scout because the first time around, I was somewhat oblivious to the adult nature of the book's subject matter (Atticus is representing Tom Robinson, a black man accused of rape).

Now having read more than half of the book (no, I'm not done yet), I find myself painstakingly drawn to Atticus Finch. I also find relate-ability to be the cause of this. Besides the obvious facts of being exposed to and enjoy learning the subject of law, I relate to Atticus in a way that I can understand. As mentioned, I haven't finished the book. I don't remember if Tom is convicted or Atticus sets him free. But my lesson from the book has already been learned: no matter how many people speak out against you, or who don't agree with your actions, standing up for what you believe in and what you believe is right is the most important lesson of all. And if Tom is killed at the end of the book, at least Atticus can know he did what he could to try and save him without regret.

What the hell is the point of this post? I'm glad you asked. Books that evoke thought are good, but stories that everyone can relate to in different ways are genius. And I think that's what makes To Kill A Mockingbird so brilliant (besides Lee's beautiful writing style of course). You can chalk this blog post up to change. I changed what I took away from the story, having related more closely to Atticus than Scout. Maybe next time around something in my life will challenge me to look closer at Jem's character. I'm sure in 15 years I'll wonder how I ever drove around my Honda Civic for so long, or mock the "newest technology" of my iPhone 4s. But all I know is that change is good. Change means growing, learning, moving forward. And isn't that what life is all about?