“…a semblance of truth sufficient to procure for these shadows of imagination that willing suspension of disbelief for the moment, which constitutes poetic faith.” –Samuel Coleridge
Reading Go Set A Watchman brought me back to my childhood, when friends from the neighborhood moved away: when I would see them again, a year or two later, I was always surprised to see they had changed, and it took some time to adjust to these relatively new people. They were, at one time, both friends and strangers.
Much has been made of the characters’ changes in the novel, Atticus in particular. Along with the novel overall, these changes felt underdeveloped and rushed. I believe I would feel the same without comparison to To Kill A Mockingbird, but that is the most interesting part of the book: Watchman owes its existence to Mockingbird, yet the existence of the two books and the resulting inevitable comparisons will be troublesome, requiring at the very least, I believe, a certain suspension of disbelief.
Much of the dialogue was flat, but the most difficult parts to read were the parts from Atticus. As I read, I waited for him to redeem himself: I expected some simple, folksy wisdom regarding states’ rights, maybe some empathy for people who are slow to accept change, something that would complicate his character and help me understand him and accept the difference. Nothing came.
In the end, the book focuses on Jean Louise’s willingness to accept this new Atticus. She had, like many of us, a view of this man that was entirely contrary to this new version. Along with her, readers cringe and are left to come to their own place of acceptance. What else are we to do? This is a fictional character, a “shadow of imagination.”
In this way, Watchman turns Mockingbird on its head, or maybe it would be more accurate to say that Watchman carries the emotional appeal of Mockingbird to its logical end: are we willing to see things from Atticus’s new point of view?
And this then is how the book may be an important one for this time, because of issues like same-sex marriage and the Confederate flag. The question the novel raises is interestingly paradoxical: can people be tolerant of those seen as intolerant? It might be a question we need to answer as a society if we are to continue to thrive.
“As sure as time, history is repeating itself, and as sure as man is man, history is the last place he’ll look for his lessons.” –Uncle Jack
Change is inevitable. People change. Values change. Technologies change. However, change’s inevitability should not be used as a logical argument.
The novel argues neither for nor against change. It does instead argue for tolerance, but not the nice-sounding tolerance espoused by Mockingbird, but what might be called “reverse tolerance”: a tolerance of those who are viewed as intolerant.
Had Atticus focused more on states’ rights to explain his role in the citizen’s council, he would be a more interesting character; instead he just sounds simple and scared of change. Although this is a work of fiction and Atticus is fake, a “shadow of imagination,” the issues of the novel and of contemporary society are real, as is the fear, particularly when dealing with issues of culture, religion, and sexuality.