"To Kill a Mockingbird" Reflection

It has been about seven years since the first time I picked up To Kill a Mockingbird; I was only twelve years old when I first read the novel about a young girl and boy, their mysterious guardian angel, and the trials, tribulations, and social injustices faced within a Southern community in the 1930s. Even though much time has passed since my first reading of this novel, I must admit that my heart for it has not changed; the novel remains as one of my favorites. Although I cannot accurately recall how many times I have read this novel in the past seven years, I must say that each new reading encounter for me has always been like the first time—new, exciting, intriguing, moving. Perhaps that is the magic of the novel; it manages to capture my attention and pull at my heartstrings, each and every time.

However, now at the age of nineteen, the novel has a deeper meaning for me. When I was twelve, and even throughout my middle and high school career, I never fully grasped the impact of Boo’s character, until now. After some introspection, I think that my new understanding stems from my own experiences in college— being placed in a completely new environment, feeling isolated at times, being discriminated against for characteristics that I could not change. Because of these factors, I could recognize the multitude and impact of Boo’s character and his thoughts and feelings throughout the novel. As a young teenager, – who lived on a rock for her entire life - discrimination and isolation were understood, but not internalized. However, after experiencing those things first-hand, the depth of Boo’s character and the reasons for why he behaved the way he did no longer seems foreign to me, but rather; it is so understandable, it hurts. I think Harper Lee wished for readers to see the human in Boo; the compassion, the heart in the infamous character no one truly knew. I realized I no longer had my view of Boo that I did when I was twelve; now, I saw a part of myself in him.

Hence, I must admit that it was an interesting experience for me to relook at one of my favorite novels with new lenses of age and maturity. I realized that my rose-tinted glasses were broken long ago, leaving me to now recognize the gravity of the issues presented in the novel, and the progressive development of characters so much like myself; when I was twelve, perhaps I was too ignorant to see the similarities, to see that I was no different from them.

Yet, even though time has passed, – I have aged almost a decade since my first approach to this novel – my favorite quotes and chapters are unchanging. The final chapter, Chapter 31, was my favorite chapter before, now, and for always. I find this chapter to reflect upon the entirety of the novel; it still sends a chill through my soul, especially when I read the following:     

 “It was still summertime, and the children came closer. A boy...fishing-pole behind him. A man stood waiting with his hands on his hips. Summertime, and his children played in the front yard…enacting a strange little drama….

…Fall, and his children trotted to and fro around the corner, the day’s woes and triumphs on their faces. They stopped at an oak tree, delighted, puzzled, apprehensive.

Winter, and his children shivered at the front gate…

Summer, and he watched his children’s heart break. Autumn again, and Boo’s children needed him.

Atticus was right. One time he said you never really know a man until you stand in his shoes and walk around in them. Just standing on the Radley porch was enough.”

After 300-some pages, the reader finally captures a glimpse of Boo’s perspective—we can recognize that he viewed Scout and Jem as his children, children to love, children to protect. The simple enlightenment, the whirlwind recollection of three years that Scout has on that porch still makes me smile, still grips my heart, unmercifully.

Lastly, I cannot help but end my reflection of To Kill a Mockingbird with a quote that has mesmerized me throughout the years—a quote that has been with me from my first reading, and will be with me to my last:

“’An’ they chased him ‘n’ never could catch him ‘cause they didn’t know what he looked like, an’ Atticus, when they finally saw him, why he hadn’t done any of those things…Atticus, he was real nice….’

‘…Most people are, Scout, when you finally see them.’”