"Go Set a Watchman" is a Hopeful Example for Aspiring Writers

               I gaped at the quiet man casually bagging my purchase into a To Kill a Mockingbird tote. This was two hours after Barnes & Noble had opened on July 14, the day Go Set a Watchman went on sale. How could I be one of the first twenty people to buy the book—one of the lucky ones to receive a free tote? The flyer I’d been carrying around in my purse rightly described Harper Lee’s new book as “highly anticipated”. Assuming everyone else in the near vicinity to be doing what I would’ve done if not at work that morning, my mind had created a solid, eager line of readers, munching on granola bars, waiting for seven in the morning along the sidewalk in front of the store. Wrenching open a massive door at nine o’clock, surely too late for the totes but still in time for a free small coffee from the café, I braced for a respectable literary flutter inside.

But this was not to be. The place was more deserted than suburban streets at midnight, and almost as sleepy. Even the assistant at the Nook booth had given up and was nowhere in sight. Slightly depressed, but marveling at how quickly the rush had ended, I chose a Watchman from the nearest stack. “30% OFF”, screamed the sign. Another display of the blue and yellow book was hopefully arranged by the checkout. As the man explained, in a bored and rehearsed tone, that I get a free tote and should bring my receipt to the café for a free coffee, I realized that there had been no rush. Or, if there had been, it was a pitiful rush of 19 or fewer people. The English Major in me broke out full force—shock changed to disdain of the low intelligence exhibited by the surrounding populace. It’s not often that a famous, successful author writes only one book. It’s even rarer when a sequel-written-before-the-famous-prequel is discovered in a box and published over half a century afterwards. Even if the book isn’t very good, I thought, it’s still an exciting and momentous occasion.

But confused frustration quickly subsided as the introverted Baggins side of me gained its habitual dominance over my actions, emotions, and thoughts. Maybe people were missing out on a historic literary moment, but that only made the café quieter and cozier for my enjoyment. I kicked off my flip-flops and settled into a corner. The distance bounciness of “Rockin’ Robins” and “The Puppy Song” gave the café a Fox Books aura as I sipped my legal addictive stimulant and savored the moment of opening the cover and flipping to the first page.  

Go Set a Watchman, which was written before To Kill A Mockingbird, begins with Scout Finch—or Jean Louise, as she is now consistently called in adulthood—returning to visit her hometown from New York. The opening chapter of Watchman reminds readers of one aspect we love about To Kill a Mockingbird: it has skillful, humorous descriptions, and a nostalgic sense of place as Jean Louise watches the countryside pass during her return to Maycomb.

But this cheerful familiarity quickly fades. With the passing years, Scout has grown quite cynical, and she swears almost constantly (something she also did as a child, but which was portrayed as a passing childhood phase). Such characteristics makes it hard to identify and sympathize with her. One early example of this cynicism came as Jean Louise considers whether or not to marry her boyfriend, Hank. “After a few years, when the children were waist-high, the man would come along whom she should have married in the first place. There would be searchings of hearts, fevers and frets, long looks at each other on the post office steps, and misery for everybody.” This depressing prediction is a typical example of Jean Louise’s general outlook on life, and such an outlook makes for a gloomy and almost harsh character whom I found increasingly difficult to love.

The novel’s consistent failure is over-writing. Everything seems either over-done or too long. For example, take the coffee-social for Jean Louise’s return to Maycomb. Jean Louise hears the fragmented buzz of the “magpies” like so: “Mr. Talbert looked at me and said…he’d never learn to sit on the pot…of beans every Thursday night. That’s the one Yankee thing he picked up in the … War of the Roses? No, honey, I said Warren proposes … to the garbage collector. That was all I could do after she got through … the rye.” This is humorous and gives readers the sense of disconnect and boredom Jean Louise was feeling, but four chunky paragraphs of it is a little much.

Such over-writing becomes even stronger in relation to the central tension of the story. Instead of discussing Atticus defending a black man, the plot revolves around Jean Louise discovering that Atticus and Hank are strong supporters of segregation. Jean Louise may have come across as harsh and callous before, but at this realization, her already strong cynicism becomes raging bitterness. Understandably, she feels betrayed, confused, and angry. Lee inserts a 15-page long flashback to the time in sixth grade when Scout learned the facts of life after believing she was pregnant for nine months. The comparison of the “why didn’t I know this sooner” feeling is extremely obvious, and seems slightly over the top. For the rest of the book, events are overlaid with a constant stream of Jean Louise’s bitterly sarcastic thoughts, spiraling down into mental rants, disillusionment, and three long and frankly rather boring discussions and arguments. A sampling of Jean Louise’s mental overlay reads:

When she turned around Alexandra said, “You look right puny. What’s the matter?”

Madam, my father has left me flopping like a flounder at low tide and you say what’s the matter. “Stomach,” she said.

“There’s a lot of the going around now. Does it hurt?”

Yes it hurts. Like h***. It hurts so much I can’t stand it. “No ma’am, just upset.” 

Very quickly, such bitter commentary becomes repetitive and painful to read. Also, it doesn’t serve to show readers the character’s feelings, but merely tells.

In the end, it turns out the book is only partly concerned with racial tensions—the conclusion involves Jean Louise’s acceptance of her conscious breaking loose from Atticus’. Jean Louise’s Uncle Jack explains in a lengthy discussion that she had “confused your father with God” as a child and has been “an emotional cripple, leaning on [Atticus], getting the answers from him, assuming that your answers would always be his answers.” By the end of the conversation, Jean Louise’s emotional upheaval is fixed, and in the next chapter she makes up with Atticus and “welcome[s] him into the human race.” Such an ending gives the novel a slightly unrealistic about-face for Jean Louise—the resolution appears too quick and easy.

However, I am glad I read Watchman, and would recommend the book to other aspiring writers. Basically, Go Set A Watchman is a first draft of To Kill A Mockingbird. It is fascinating to compare this first, comparatively amateurish novel to the classic, powerful, and incredible successor of one of America’s greatest authors. It’s almost like a class in novel development to compare the ways Lee’s story evolved, and to watch how the bitterness and rants of Watchman became more powerful when they were muted in Mockingbird by having issues seen and discussed by a child, instead of monotonously ranted about by an adult. Comparing the two books also proves that questionable content such as swearing is not needed to add a sense of reality or worldliness to a book. Despite the fact that Mockingbird deals with a rape trial, astonishingly few sentences would needed to be changed before it was read to children. It is a mark of a true master when touchy subjects, such as race and coming of age, can be powerfully explored without merely throwing around curse words and graphic details.

The other reason I’m glad I read Watchman is the hopeful message it gives writers. I’ve gained a deep respect for Lee’s ability to just ditch a neatly packaged, completed novel and start over. I only recognized a few word-for-word sentences or phrases in the book, and they mostly were used for describing Aunt Alexandra or Maycomb County’s history. Speaking from personal experience, it can be hard to kill even one word of your writing. Killing a paragraph can require lengthy contemplation of the greater good before hitting the backspace key. Completely restarting an entire book shows not only admirable toughness, resolve, and determination, but also a large amount of humility. Personally if I had a finished novel, I would tote it around to publisher after publisher, citing to myself numerous instances where incredible classics garnered multiple rejections until the now-famous author finally found a receptive publisher. Harper Lee, showing remarkable grit, humbly listened to the advice of a rejecting publisher and began again. A popular writing quote is: “That second draft will not kill you. It may kill some of your characters, but it will absolutely, positively, pinky swear, NOT kill you.” Lee’s books are solid proof that ruthless editing yields immense results. Clearly, one failed novel does not always mean the author is a terrible writer, but simply that she needs more practice or more editing. Go Set a Watchman is a hopeful story of how one author moved from failure to fame. Surely, that deserves a sizable rush on the first sale day.