To kill a mockingbird

After reading The Help, I thought if this work. I did not recall reading it, and, if I had, did not remember it. I decided to read the book, and finish it, before watching the film (which I did recall, dimly).

The book is considered a modern American classic. It is taught in high school. It is the story of the Finch family, Atticus and his son Jem and daughter Scout. Atticus is a lawyer in a small Alabam town, and is appointed by the local judge to defend a black man who stands accussed of raping a local white woman. Jem and Scout are inquisitive children who are treated kindly and somehwat indulgently by their father, whom they call Atticus. Their maid, or housekeeper, Calpurnia, is also involved in their upbringing: she is not afraid or reluctant to discipline them, including administering a swat in the leg when she feels it is appropriate.

Atticus is well respected in town. He is tolerant, sociable, and widowed. In the book his sister considers him too indulgent of his children, and pushes herself into their lives to improve what she considers some shortcomings. Primary among these are Scout's behavior; Jean Louise is a tomboy who never wears dresses, always wears overalls, fights, and otherwise does not behave as a proper girl should.

Aunt Alexandra does not appear in the film. In fact, the film dispenses with much detail, as films have to, in the interest of brevity. Her absence changes the story, yet the film is a wonderful representzation of the film. The relationships between Atticus and his kids, the trial, and relationships between Atticus and some townspeople come through. Of course, in the film there are many more relationships, and much richer detail. But a 2-hour film can only include so much detail.

Gregory Peck does a beautiful job of acting. Deservedly, he won an Oscar for his portrayal of Atticus Finch. He happens to be one of my favorite actors of all time, so I can not quibble much with his role. One weakness is that he has no Southern accent, made all the more glaring bu the rather thick accents of the kids (Jem, Scout and their friend Dill). But the basic character of Atticus Finch comes through Peck's acting: tolerant, reflective, decent.

A key scene, in which Atticus is seated in front of the jailhouse where Tom Robinson is awaiting trail, is depicted quite nicely in the film. Heck Tate, the local sheriff, warns Atticus that a group of local men is headed for the jail, looking to take Tom out and lynch him. Atticus prevents them from taking Tom, but the situation is diffused when Scout talks to Mister Cunningham about his son, her schoolmate.

The word nigger is used in the book, as it was, surely, in 1935 Alabama. At one juncture Scout tells Atticus that she has fought in school, something he has forbidden her to do, because a classmate call her father a nigger lover. She tells Atticus so, and he tells Scout to not use the word, then explains to her why he is defending a Negro.

I found the lack of use of the word nigger to be a detriment in The Help. Surely the word was used in 1962 Mississppi, even by genteel white folks. Its absence, it seemed to me, spoke more to the political correctness of our current day, than to the character of 1962 Jackson. Nonetheless, both books address a similar social milieu: the role of black servants in white families. Of course, Mockingbird delves into a deeper topic, racism, and Help does not go quite as deep. It, too, considers racism, of course.

Mockingbird is not an easy read. At first, I found it difficult to approach. Yet I did get into it, and now, having ended it, and having seen the film, I am astounded by its radicalism. It was published in 1960.

The state of Jones

The State of Jones
By Sally Jenkins and John Stauffer
Doubleday, 402 pages, $27.50






The idea is beguiling: a ­region in the South during the Civil War where the inhabitants, disgusted by slavery and unwilling to support the Confederate cause, take up arms as Union loyalists. Better still, for storytelling purposes, would be a charismatic leader who organizes the resistance.

Such is the legend of what became known as the “Free State of Jones,” a county deep in Mississippi’s piney woods. The area was one of many pockets in the state where dissatisfaction with the Confederacy boiled for much of the war, but only Jones County was elevated by folklore, ­especially in the decades after the war, into a scene of noble rebellion. It helped that the anti-Confederate ­faction there was led by a tall, stern backwoodsman named Newton Knight.

The operative words here are ­“legend” and “folklore.” Although Sally Jenkins and John Stauffer labor mightily in “The State of Jones” to make the case for Newt Knight and Jones County as emblems of ­enlightened “insurrection” within the Confederacy, the truth, alas, is hardly as inspiring as the authors suppose. Far from being a haven for the ­high-minded, Jones County was a magnet for Confederate deserters. Their hostility to being executed, ­imprisoned or pressed back into the service of a lost cause was the men’s animating principle.




“As far as the foot soldiers were concerned, the other side could have the damned town. The generals might have gladly given it up too, if not for the railroad junction. ” Read an excerpt from ‘The State of Jones’



It would have helped the authors’ argument if the book were simply better organized—the narrative is often difficult to follow—and if they had been more comfortable with Civil War history. They don’t place the ­battle of Corinth, or other Mississippi clashes described in the book, within the larger context of the war. Why did these fights happen and why were they important to the wartime fortunes of ­Mississippi? We’re also left to wonder about Knight’s ­experience in battle. The authors focus mostly on the “insufferable” day-to-day life of Confederate soldiers.

It wasn’t long, of course, before the bothersome deserters in Jones County became irrelevant to a Rebel army in retreat. Here the book’s ­interest shifts fully to the life of Newt Knight, during Reconstruction and beyond. As it happened, Knight was married to a white woman but also had a long-running affair with a black woman, even maintaining two ­separate households. Ms. Jenkins and Mr. Stauffer take this as evidence of Knight’s anti-racist, anti-slavery bona fides, but miscegenation had long been commonplace in the South, even—or especially—among slave owners, who took care of their ­mixed-blood offspring.

To be sure, Knight went beyond most in his studious maintenance of two households, one white and one black. And the arrangement resulted in many trials for him and his ­family—his white wife left him, ­jealousy raged between his two sets of children, and later generations ­intermarried without regard for their blood links. This is a complicated story, and the authors handle it well; it is easily the most interesting part of the book.





— Michael Ballard, the author of “Vicksburg: The Campaign That Opened the ­Mississippi,” is the coordinator of the Congressional and Political Research Center at the Mississippi State ­University Library.








The New York Public Library/Art Resource NY - The Tishomingo Hotel in Corinth, Miss., was used at different times as a hospital by both Union and Rebel troops.















Collection of Herman Welborn - Newton Knight, a Confederate medic and deserter