|
Volume 97, Number 6 (1999) reprinted by permission of the Law Review COMMENT ON STEVEN LUBET, RECONSTRUCTING ATTICUS FINCH Rob Atkinson* Early on, he asks, "What if Mayella Ewell [the accusing witness] was telling the truth? What if she really was raped (or nearly raped) by Tom Robinson? What do we think then of Atticus Finch?"2 Professor Lubet suggests we may - indeed, should - interpret the story so that Mayella and her father are not so evil, nor Tom so pure, nor Atticus so wise as they appear to be - as, indeed, both Scout, the narrator, and Lee, the author, would have us believe they are. He cites textual evidence in support of this admittedly novel reading,3 but I can return no better than a Scots' verdict: not proved. Unreliable narrators and inconsistent perspectives are, of course, standard features of sophisticated fiction and film. But Lee gives us no hint of Scout's being anything other than right about Tom Robinson's innocence and Atticus's wisdom. To Kill a Mockingbird, Pulitzer Prize and Academy Awards notwith standing, is no Rashomon.4 Contrary to Lubet's suggestion, there are not three accounts (Scout's, Tom's, and Mayella's), each plausi- bly vying for the reader's credence.5 There are only two, Tom's truth and Mayella's lie, each revealed to us for precisely what it is by a virtually omniscient, firm but fair father through the eyes of an innocent child, all in open court. Professor Lubet's answer to such text-based skepticism about Mayella's testimony is an invitation to rewrite the book in the name of "responsible reading," unbound by, if not indifferent to, the author's obvious intent.6 If we cannot believe the characters as they appear in the story, if they strike us as stock figures or stereotypes,7 then we should revise the story to suit ourselves, to better fit our take on normative and descriptive reality external to the story. That approach may have many modern - more properly speaking, post-modern - defenders; I am emphatically not among them. My preference8 is a very different approach. Let's take the story on its own terms and wonder why we, as a culture, particularly a legal culture, have been so willing, for so long, to believe in some thing so childishly simplistic: a satisfied, subservient Black - literally and figuratively a "Tom" - is abused by congenitally and incorrigibly evil white trash, only to be rescued by a rusticating, classics-reading, glasses-wearing but (literally!) straight-shooting father-who-knows-best. If Lubet were right - if Tom were guilty or Atticus mistaken, if there were even any question on either point - Harper Lee's open love letter to her father would be a much more complex and morally challenging book. But it isn't.9 And that isn't as much a criticism of its characters, or even their creator, as it is of us. Harper Lee has given us the Gospel According to Atticus in the words of his chief disciple. Scout, as Professor Lubet implies, seems a thinly veiled stand-in for Lee herself.10 But we are the ones who have included her story in our canon and who continue to work and worship Atticus's golden image. I suspect - indeed, I have argued at length11 - that we polish that image so earnestly because we see ourselves reflected in it so exactly. Lubet says that readers overlook the flaws in Lee's narrative because they "are anxious for Tom's vindication."12 True enough - but we are the readers, and we are also anxious that our role model do the vindicating, and thus vindicate us, too.13 As Professor Lubet points out, Harper Lee knew her audience well;14 the makers and marketers of icons invariably do. True prophets seldom present as lovely an image of their compatriots, and they are seldom as loved in their own countries.15 |
