Hush, little baby, don't say a word

A review of To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee (Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co., 1960). Ebook.

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Jean Louise "Scout" Finch is a six-year-old girl living in Maycomb, Alabama during the Great Depression. She lives with her older brother, Jem; her father Atticus, the local lawyer and a widower; and their black cook Calpurnia, who helps raise Jem and Scout. They befriend another child named Dill who visits his aunt in the summer. Together, they develop a fascination with their reclusive neighbour, Arthur "Boo" Radley, whom they have never seen and whom the locals don't talk about. But someone is leaving them little gifts in a tree by his house, so it seems that Boo Radley is aware of them.

The town judge appoints Atticus to defend Tom Robinson, a black man accused of raping a young white woman, knowing Atticus is a man of integrity and will do his best for Tom. Atticus agrees, even though the white townsfolk disapprove. Scout stands up for her father and gets into fights at school, but Atticus tells her not to. Later, when he faces down a mob intending to lynch Tom, Scout (who is there without permission) recognizes the father of one of her schoolmates—whom Atticus has been helping, though he can't afford to pay for his services—and she manages to dissuade the mob.

When Tom Robinson's trial begins, Atticus wants Scout and Jem to stay away, but they sneak in, and they are invited to sit with Calpurnia's pastor in the segregated balcony to watch the courtroom drama unfold.

It feels odd writing a book review of a book that, probably, nearly all of my Faithful Readers have already read. Even in Canada, To Kill a Mockingbird is assigned in schools. I was recently talking to a friend about the books I'd been reading, and she was surprised I'd never read it before. (When I was in high school, we did Huckleberry Finn in grade 10, but TKAM wasn't on the curriculum in any English class that I was aware of.) So here are my first impressions, more than a proper review or analysis. My thoughts are probably neither especially deep nor especially good.

Science Fiction-Free September 2023 wrap-up

This past September was my 20th Science Fiction-Free September, in which I declare a month-long moratorium on reading science-fiction books (whether I need to or not).

Before the month began, I decided on six novels that I wanted to read. Three of them had been on my to-read list for a very long time, and it was high time I actually read them. Two were consistent with my current reading projects. And one was a book that I had on reserve at the library, which I expected to become available early in the month.

I planned for six novels, and I completed all six. This was a first. Apparently the winning strategy is to choose shorter novels than I'm accustomed to. (But not too short.)

About two-thirds of the way through September, and near the start of the fifth (and longest) book, I caught a cold. Thanks to the COVID pandemic, it's been at least two years since I've been sick at all. Not only had I practically forgotten what it felt like, but it also completely drained my energy for three days—to the point that I didn't feel even like reading. I got my mojo back, though, and got the last book in just under the wire on Saturday afternoon.

My favourite novel of the six was the first: To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee. I'd never read it before (nor had I read any of them), and I'm glad I did. I can see why it frequently tops lists of the greatest novels of all time. Runner-up: Joyland, by Stephen King. I've already reviewed it, but to sum up, it's an enjoyable and light piece of crime fiction.

My least favourite was Revolutionary Road, by Richard Yates. It might be the most pessimistic novel I've ever read (though it may have some competition in John O'Hara's Appointment in Samarra). Runner-up: The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton. Neither is a bad novel by any stretch, and I might have thought more highly of each of them individually. I guess I'm not cut out for two highly tragic novels practically back to back.

Coming in in the middle were An Artist of the Floating World, by Kazuo Ishiguro, and Riders of the Purple Sage, by Zane Grey. Both of them are good novels, and An Artist of the Floating World in particular is beautifully written.

I said at the beginning of September that I would write at least 250 words on each of these books. So yes, I still owe a post on each of TKAM, The House of Mirth, and An Artist of the Floating World.

My annual goal is to read 50 books of any genre. An Artist of the Floating World was number 47. Between the end of September and writing this, I've also completed one more novel (Emily of New Moon, by L. M. Montgomery) and I'm halfway through number 49: Nemesis Games, the fifth book in the Expanse series by James S. A. Corey.

In the not-entirely-unlikely event that I ran out of books before running out of September, I had three additonal books lined up:

• The Cellist of Sarajevo, Steven Galloway
• A Confederacy of Dunces, John Kennedy Toole
• Rabbit, Run, John Updike

They also all have a long history on The List, so I'm eager to clear them off. Not too soon, though; I'm going to spend a little while reading some more blatantly commercial stuff.

And now ... this - Oct. 4/23

I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too

The "innovative" MA in Magic and Occult Science has been created following a "recent surge in interest in magic", the course leader said.

It would offering an opportunity to study the history and impact of witchcraft and magic around the world on society and science, bosses said.

[Full Story]

So it's a social-science degree, not actually a degree in magic.

Pity. I know some Muggles for whom a brief froggy existence might teach a few valuable life lessons.