[*DISCLAIMER: I realize this post is way too formal; and may even seem like I'm trying too hard. This post was actually a "copy/paste" job, and I only made a few minor changes to lighten the stuffiness. It's an excerpt from a college literature paper, so I apologize if it comes off as pretentious, as I am well aware that I'm a total jackass.]
I truly, truly hate
To Kill A Mockingbird. I loathe it with every inch of my body. I cringe every time I hear the title; I vomit every time I hear it praised. The fact that it has become a staple in educational curriculum is a criminal travesty; and another reason why the education system can't be trusted.
In June of this past year the U.K. newspaper The Telegraph reported on a recent poll that had deemed Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird the “Greatest Novel of All Time”
(http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2138827/To-Kill-a-Mockingbird-voted-Greatest-Novel-Of-All-Time.html). The criteria for determining a novel’s capacity for greatness, however, is rather ambiguous; and the results would not be remotely surprising if the poll were done, say, within a population of 7th graders. Yet to even momentarily entertain the idea that Harper Lee’s novel should even be considered as one the “greatest of all time” is not only extraordinarily absurd but strikingly offensive.
To Kill A Mockingbird is often read for some type of moral lesson. It strangles your brain with the notion that Good will always overcome Evil; but the muted, subtler theme of acceptance and understanding of Evil so as to harness the forces of Good, is often overlooked. It would seem that Lee sought to break down the prejudices conditioned by the institutions of justice, education and religion, as the story exposes these institutions through Scout’s continual contact with various cultural injustices. Within her portrayal of the racial tension in the antebellum South, Lee impugns her audience to recognize social evils that are perpetuated by the status quo. In that aspect, the novel is successful. But that theme is just
way too easy, and Lee makes the whole story feel like Catholic school.
The novel seems to fail in almost every other regard. The narrative voice seems to be written more out of convenience than actual significance to either the story itself or the social climate of the historical period in which it was penned. Secondly, Atticus Finch is ultimately a purposeless character. Lee employs Atticus as a vessel to represent her own idealized moral standards. As the novel proves, Lee cannot even recognize that this ideal is, in fact, naturally impossible. Finally, while the Finch children will always have the advantage of Atticus’ guidance, the story says nothing to the massive number of people who never had such an instructive moral compass. In other words, the novel in no way speaks to the notion of discovering these lessons without some external—and altogether inhuman—force that nudges them in the right direction. The underlying message of
To Kill A Mockingbird is never clearly delineated, and it is continually contradicted by numerous discrepancies. By novel’s end the reader is left only to trawl through the muck of ambiguities only to emerge with the nauseatingly mundane intimation that racism is evil.
Unfortunately, the narrative voice of the novel is confounding and ineffective; and worse, it is compromised by the author’s insistence on lyrical flourishes. It is impossible to portray the perspective of a child through the eyes of an educated, morally-sound adult. Furthermore, it is difficult to believe fully in the inherent innocence of Scout’s childhood self because her adult self is influencing and forming the words that transmit the story. From page one, the narrative voice is jeopardized, and in the words we see not a projection of innocence but a translation of it.
The novel, disparagingly, has come to be used as a moral guidebook: a means to aid in the formation of one’s ethical values. For this reason it is often presented to the reader in their formative years, which is perhaps why the story is so often lauded by adults, who revert back to it with fond, nostalgic memories. Resultantly, the book is viewed as a depiction of how the forces of Good always champions over the forces of Evil. However, this idea, though widely accepted, is dangerously misguided. Worse, this notion only exacerbates the misconception that humans are either inherently good or inherently evil. This perspective, much like the separate black and white cultures in Maycomb, Alabama, only causes one to think in terms of opposing division rather than coexistence.
Therefore, when reading the novel, the reader should think of it not as an exaltation of Good over Evil but one that acknowledges their unification. Rather than being either Good or being Evil, humanity is naturally sired from both.
If Atticus Finch is intended to represent a particular moral ideal, then the reader (specifically younger readers) cannot realize that such an ideal is unattainable.
There are profound reasons why
To Kill A Mockingbird should be removed from the classroom altogether. The novel has the power to lead one into exalting a set of moral standards that is entirely false and impossible. If one seeks the same unblemished conscience held by Atticus, they are made more susceptible to despondency and guilt. This, in turn, potentially causes one to condemn their humanity rather than embrace it.
The narrative follows the pattern of a Bildungsroman in that the reader is supposed to be able to follow the emotional, spiritual and ethical development of Scout. Atticus, on the other hand, is as lifeless (and about as interesting) as a popped balloon. He remains unchanged by the events that unfold before him. Through the character of Atticus, Lee attempts to represent a moral and ethical exemplar. Yet, in doing so, she seems to abandon the established standards set forth by the laws of fiction. While it is not fait to say that “flat” characters cannot work as effective literary devices, it is fair to say that Atticus Finch is not one of them.
In the end, Atticus Finch—as a character—only makes those of Jem and Scout less relatable. It is difficult, if not impossible, for the reader to wholly identify with the moral and ethical roboticism of Atticus Finch. Being that it is non-existent, the reader cannot apply that standard to any figure in their own lives. Most (if not all) people have not or will never grow up under such perfectly righteous tutelage. Atticus is not a real father, due in large part to the fact that his untarnished virtue and total lack of complexity do nothing to suggest that he could represent any real person. Every character, save for Atticus, is believable because they are multi-dimensional. Moreover, they are continually changed by the events of their lives. Though well-intentioned, Lee’s exaltation of moral idealism cannot account for the timeless capacities for lust and violence that natural human primality can impose on the individual conscience.