One of my favorite books; I first read it when I was 10, and while I didn’t understand it all, I loved it enough to read one copy to pieces, and I had to replace it.
I enjoy the Missionary Society gathering, part of Aunt Alexandria’s campaign to turn Scout into a lady. After Atticus brings them the news about Tom Robinson’s death, Scout watches while Miss Maudie and Aunt Alexandria pull themselves together in the kitchen, and she realizes there’s more to being a lady than wearing dresses and baking cakes. “After all, if Auntie could be a lady at a time like this, so could I.” Love that line.
Not being much of a lady myself, though, there’s one part of that scene that always puzzles me. A couple of ladies are griping about something or other, and Miss Maudie says, “His food doesn’t stick going down, does it?” whereupon the gripey ladies colour and change the subject. I could never figure out what that was all about.
They were insulting Atticus without naming him, while sitting in his house, eating his food. That’s Miss Maudie’s way of letting everyone know just what she thinks about the sentiment. She’s defending Atticus.
Thanks for the explanation! I’ve never understood that line.
One thing that bugged me about the movie was Scout’s ham costume. It should have been made out of chicken wire, not papier mache or whatever it was. The crushing of the ham was vital in the final fight scene, and the way the movie handled it was…not canon. Going along with what Sampiro said about a miniseries, I’d love to see the whole school carnival rather than just a little.
This is just a general fawning post about how good TKAM was/is.
The sheer inversion of Scout speaking with Mr. Cunningham outside the jail was one of many scenes that blew me away. Unintentionally, Scout is saying, “Behave yourself, or I’ll tell your kids.”
I have the book, hardcover (not first edition) AND the movie on VHS.
When I was in seventh grade (circa 1965) Sister Mary Theresa read this to us a chapter at a time in the period right after lunch. I bought my own copy shortly thereafter.
Man, I haven’t read that book since the 8th grade, but I remember liking it then (it’s been 10 years now). This thread makes me want to go back and read it again to see what I can pick up on a 2nd time. Though, I’m really surprised at how many scenes from it i DO remember (such as the Ham thing), it WAS a really good Book.
*Random dorky Trivia: This book is listed as also being Clark Kent (Superman)'s favorite bookl. As mentioned in “The Return of Superman” Series of Comics- he mentions the title to Lois Lane, who then realize that he truly is the real Clark Kent). I was just rereading the comic today, and I saw the Mockbird reference.
I was always intrigued by the description of the house at Finch’s Landing:
Was this a common design in antebellum southern houses? Is this description modelled on any existing southern house? Or did Harper Lee just conjure it up herself?
Slightly off topic, but I crave your indulgance…
Some time after my daughter had been abused my son broke his arm. I had spent many hundreds of hours questioning my ability as a parent.
When Tom broke his arm and had to have pins inserted, requiring a stay in hospital, I told him that I would be there when he ‘waked’ up in the morning.
I was; and never felt more Atticus-ish.
On the subject of what’s not in the movie; the word ‘Morphidite’ and the venerable Mrs Henry LaFayette DuBois are not included. While I love them in the book; the film stands.
It’s not common, but it sounds like she’s describing a place she’s seen. Most antebellum southern mansions were almost rigidly symmetrical- 2 over 2/4 over 4/ or, if there was a double parlor downstairs, 4 over 3.
OTOH, placing the daughters’ bedrooms intentionally inconveniently was fairly common. My great-grandparents had 5 daughters and a rambling 1 floor farmhouse and the daughters bedrooms were accessed through their mother’s bedroom and had no outside access save for windows over a steep drop-off. The sons originally slept in the loft until there were too many of them (there were ultimately 10 boys), whereupon their father built them a bunkhouse called “The Dormitory”, while the father slept in a “shed room” (fairly common feature of southern vernacular architecture made by closing in an end of a porch just big enough for a bed and maybe a washstand that connected to the mother’s bedroom on the side opposite the daughters.
My sister owns two houses in south Alabama built in the late 19th century that have “stair closets”, which is pretty much what it sounds like: the stairwell is essentially a closet closed off by a door from the living area. These could be locked with a skeleton key which essentially locked in anybody upstairs and were often used to punish or “protect the virtue of” children, though there was an inherent risk of fire, so sometimes a skeleton key would be kept by the door inside of a wax sealed bottled that could be broken in the event of emergency but “damned well better not be” otherwise.
I’ve read accounts in scholarly histories that in a study of thousands of marriages in the 19th century south historians/sociologists figured that about 1/4 of brides gave birth within the first 8 months of marriage. This was often explained by “can you believe Adelicia eloped three months ago and didn’t tell us?” or by “premature births”. My own great grandmother (the one with 15 kids whose daughters bedrooms were accessed through hers) gave birth about 6 months after her marriage, though she never pretended it was anything miraculous; another great-grandmother gave birth to my Uncle John about 7 months after she married in 1881 and 99 years later when I knew him he spoke of having been so premature he didn’t have fingertips and had to be “kept warm in a roastin’ pan”, an account just a tad too over-the-top (especially considering that fingertips form a lot earlier than in the 7th month and don’t generally grow in after birth).
In case the above wasn’t clear, it means that 2 (or 4) rooms upstairs would be located directly over 2 (or 4) identically sized rooms downstairs, usually with a long wide hallway down the middle. The most common style plantation house in Alabama (where TKAM is set) was the Federal I house, but Greek Revivals and even Gothic Revivals were usually symmetrical as well.
The most uncommon thing in the house that Harper Lee describes is the 6 bedrooms, incidentally; this was extremely rare. The antebellum classes didn’t have our concept of space and privacy and 4 to a BR wasn’t at all uncommon even in rich families, nor was having a bed in a public room; Huckleberry Finn was impressed that the Grangerfords were so rich they didn’t have a bed in their parlor.
That said, an odd thing about southern houses of that era (and possibly northern houses as well, but I haven’t studied them as much) was that even if the family had ten kids crammed into 2 bedrooms they often had a guest room that was only used by company. In the houses in my family it was almost always a front room, though I’m not sure if that’s traditional or if so why.
Late to the party, I know. Some random observations in no particular order.
As a lifelong Southerner, I’m well aware that the eccentric relative is a common literary device, but please: not every southern story needs or has one.
My take on Boo: he was initially shut away by his family for a period of pennance, (sort of like a homespun rehab) but developed agoraphobia before his eventual reintroduction to society. I doubt he stabbed anyone in his family - - that was just idle talk. If he had, I doubt he would have looked as kindly on Scout’s, Jem’s, and Dell’s various plays in which the stabbing was the climax of the action. I also doubt he would have liked to have been portrayed as the butt of the joke. He lived and loved vicariously through Scout and Jem.
The food sticking is not only a defense of Atticus, but aslo a barb pointing out the hypocrisy of the various ladies present who knew that Tom was innocent but pretended not to understand the impact the verdict had on their household help, and, by extension, on the black community. It’s a phrase not unlike “he could look himself in the mirror every morning” - - Atticus could live without shame, whereas others present had to pretend not to be ashamed.
I attended a small college in Tennessee. It recently awarded an honorary doctorate to Ms. Lee. During lunch one of the undergraduates developed the courage to bring a copy of her book up to Ms. Lee’s table for signing. While she’s famous for not granting interviews, she’s less famous for being absolutely gracious to the general public. She kindly signed the book, then patiently signed things for anyone else who wanted a signature - - even paper napkins from the lunch counter.
One of my favorite moments in the book that hasn’t been mentioned is the people giving Atticus food after the trial. These are “poor coloreds,” most of whom don’t have anything to spare, let alone to give, but they were willing to make the sacrifice to Atticus depsite the guilty verdict. They recognized and appreciated what he had done for Tom Robinson and, by extension, them.
She did a similar thing at the U. of Alabama when I was there. She likes her privacy but at the same time she’s approachable.
Plus, she seems to be coming out of her shell a bit of late: the letter to Oprah magazine a couple of years ago, more public appearances (still not exactly a gadabout), and a lot more “public sitings” outside of Monroeville than usual. For example, she has a drawer full of honorary degrees and doctorates, but she’s accepted at least two of them in person in recent years (the one from Tennessee and another from a college in one of the Carolinas).
I’ve seen her house in Monroeville from the outside, incidentally, and it’s disappointing to most people. It’s in a neighborhood where lawyers and teachers live- comfortable but neither mansion nor architecturally distinctive, just a brick house surrounded by a chain link fence. She’s pretty much the same in person.
