Fathers and daughters. Racism and reality. Family and phantoms. Accusations and disingenuousness. Lust and lies. Rape and righteousness. And rites of passage.

Simplicity is the only way I can describe To Kill a Mockingbird. It’s so fervently ingrained in me that Scout is the simplest of characters who teaches us complex lessons about life in her innocence, that I can only think of one other character in literature that comes close, but even he has a wordliness to him that I can’t put him in her class.

Nope. Don’t bother asking me in the comments who he is. I’ll tell you later.

The only novel ever written by Harper Lee and published in 1960 just prior to the apex of the Civil Rights movement, it’s a book that has had its fair share of criticism. Not for nothing, either. Lee accurately portrays events that happened all over the United States at the time when race issues were spurious at best in the media. Her reasons for not publishing another novel are, according to her, quite simple. In a rare interview she basically said that she said what she had to say. I adore the decisiveness of that statement.

The narrative style appeals to me and has since I first read it. It is the only book in my collection that I re-read every year. Every. Single. Year. I can pick it up just about anywhere and start to read and I’m instantly involved in the story. Having seen the movie version too many times to count, I also happen to read it in my head with a southern accent and Atticus Finch is, without a doubt, Gregory Peck. I can’t even think “Atticus” without thinking of Peck’s portrayal of him.

I think it’s also the history of the southern towns that Lee depicts that appeals to me. It can be just about anywhere and you would find similar characters and situations, though I caution many of my students who decide to read it that they must stick with the beginning chapters of the book where she describes life in those towns to appreciate what will happen later on in the story. They have all returned to me and said, “Hey. You were right about that beginning part.”

Even though there is simplicity in making a 9-year old girl named Scout the narrator of an important novel, there is genius in it as well. We hope for her, root for her, and ultimately, look up to her for making things simple. For taking Boo by the hand. For being a sassy tomboy who doesn’t understand why she must wear dresses. For teaching us that standing up for people is SO RIGHT that nothing else need be considered.

There is no doubt that Tom Robinson, the black man falsely accused of rape, should be found innocent*. And in a moment of shock and disgust at the jury’s finding of him, I plainly weep at the minister who turns to Scout as her father sadly leaves the courtroom and calls her by her Christian name to show honor to her father and quietly utters, “Stand up, Jean Louise. Your father’s passing.”

My favorite chapter, by far, is chapter 11. I don’t want to like the racist Mrs. Dubose. I want to hate her. She embodies such ugliness that by the time I get to the end of the chapter I am in tears for bothering to have compassion for this woman, but Jem, Scout’s brother, shows us how if, for nothing else, than pity.

For no other reason than I can, I’m simply adding two of my favorite quotes from the book. Take away from them what you want:

Mockingbirds don’t do one thing but make music for us to enjoy . . . but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.

He turned out the light and went into Jem’s room. He would be there all night, and he would be there when Jem waked up in the morning.

To Kill a Mockingbird is anything but simple. And it should be anything but banned.

*edited when I realized my faux pas.

You don’t have to burn books books to destroy a culture. Just get people to stop reading them. -Ray Bradbury

It’s that time of year again. The time when I feel the need to behave like an insurgent, a mutineer, an insurrectionist. Even more so than every other day. Need I explain once again that I’m a middle child? Good. Let’s just get past that. It’s what you love about me anyway. It’s the thing that makes you come back again and again to witness my mischief making.

Book challenging (and banning and burning) has gone on for a long time. Some of the titles of books that have been challenged in the past surprise me while some of them just beg for banning because they are so controversial in nature. Whatever the case, I just can’t stand for it. I’ve not always been like this, either. There were times when I didn’t really care what was being challenged, but then something happened…oh, about the time this little-known author wrote a series of books that maybe, just maybe, you’ve heard of and it probably wouldn’t have brought about any red flags for me, except I take issue with one thing.

The basic premise of challenging a book presupposes that one has actually READ THE BOOK. I dunno. Maybe it’s just me.

When it comes to opinions of books and such, my own philosophy tends toward the fact that I happen to want to think for myself on these issues. I have a brain and I take it everywhere I go. May as well use it.

Arguing about whether a book is “good” or not isn’t often the question. Any critic worth her salt knows that when panning a work of literature, you simply don’t just say, “It was a good read.” People expect more than that, which is fine. If you like to read critiques before delving into a book. Those who challenge books seem to be of the mind that others shouldn’t be reading them. Be it young children, teens, or even other adults. And that is where I draw the line.

My uncle, one of the smartest and well-read people on the planet, probably got influenced me more than he knows when it comes to this. When I was in high school Salman Rushdie published a book that was the hot topic of the day. My uncle, tired and disgusted with people talking about a book that THEY HADN’T EVEN READ, decided to read it on his own. This affected me greatly. I was shocked, first of all, that an entire country banned the book and also that this was even possible. When he was forced to go into hiding I wondered, “Gee. What is this book about anyway?” In any case, I was awed that my uncle wasn’t going to take anyone’s word for it. He was going to educate himself in the most obvious way possible: he was going to read the book.
Later in life when I became a teacher and was teaching at a private school, I was dismayed that they banned Harry Potter. Dismayed, not shocked. Most of the people who talked about it hadn’t read it. Interestingly enough, it was one of the parents who had originally given it to me as a gift because she thought I’d like it. I did. Thorougly. In fact, every time I read it and was forced to set it down to start dinner or do other things, Mallory would come along and pick it up and refuse to give it back to me because she loved it so much, too. I listened intently to their reasons for not liking it and waited for the inevitable question. You know the one. The one you ask English teachers who should know better than anyone else what a book is like. (Sorry, Libby. But we do get asked an awful lot. I’ll bet you do, too, though.) My response to them was always the same:

“You seem to feel very strongly about this book. Tell me, when did you read it?”

Let’s just go ahead and get all Paul Harvey right here and now. You know the rest of the story.

They hadn’t read it.

“I’m sorry. I can’t possibly discuss a book with you when you haven’t read it. Maybe you should read it prior to discusssing it as if you know everything about it. You would never presume to go to a Book Club on the night they were discussing a book when you, yourself, hadn’t read it, right?”

Right.

For this entire week, I’m going to write about some of my favorite banned books that can be found on this site and why I love them so much. I long to hear what Banned Books you enjoy and would recommend to others.

What have you read that is banned or challenged?

*In case you’re not familiar, the post title is from a Ray Bradbury book that is also one of my favorites, but I won’t be writing about it.

Before my Friday meeting I stepped out for a skinny venti MOCHA knowing full well that I’m having a drink after work today. How well does the fine-quality of chocolate and coffee mix with tequila? You’ll know soon enough.

When the math department is in my office doing their team planning, I sit at my desk getting ready for the three team plannings I have to do after they are gone. They are a fun bunch with a nice variety of personalities who joke around quite a bit. For example, one of the guys gave another teacher a hard time for wearing white after Labor Day. So today, we all decided to wear white.

We are fashion rebels.

When they are looking at math stuff I completely tune out because I AM AN ENGLISH TEACHER SNOB. We fire barbs back and forth about which is more important to learn: math or reading. In my mind, I win all the time.

Today they were having a department breakfast where they all brought in food to share. As they did that, the conversation turned quite lively. Sometimes, discussions turn to the cerebral. Like today. Here are some snippets of that conversation:

• “So. Who watched Grey’s Anatomy last night?”
• “And why do people CALL ME DURING GREY’S ANATOMY?“
• “I know. That is so rude.“
• “I want Meredith to end up with McDreamy.”
• “WHAT? But he. is. married!”
• “SO? THEY’RE IN LOVE!”
• “Well, I’d like to see her with the other guy. What’s his name?”
• “The vet? Eeewwwww. Oh, no. He’s not nearly as sexy as McDreamy.”
• “Ok. But who is the guy who McDreamy’s wife cheated on him with?”
• “Mmmmmmmmm. That’s McSteamy.”

It is as this point where I felt the need to jump in the conversation as these young female teachers are discussing young, hot actors.

“I watched it last night since my class was cancelled. And let me just say: I want McSteamy. He is beautiful. This quiche right here I’m eating? I could eat this off his bare stomach.”

It’s just occurred to me that I’m spending a lot of money on coffee and I need to slow it down. Actually, it’s a passive-aggressive stance my husband is taking: he’s waking up and making coffee EVERY SINGLE DAY. Perhaps he thinks his is better. Maybe he just wants to keep me caffeinated. In any case, I had Sumatra coffee today. It was hot. It was good. It worked it’s mojo magic. I’m just not saying if it was homemade or not.