Michael Davidow's Blog: The Henry Bell Project - Posts Tagged "to-kill-a-mockingbird"
Past Imperfect
He estimated they had gone half a mile when she stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Here they are,” she told him in a hush. Then they were engaged by more teenaged girls with a campfire of their own sputtering behind them. The sky was darkening now. “What’s the story, morning glory?” “Who’s the old man?”
“Now now,” Mercer said. “No autographs, please.”
“Is he famous?” “Search me. I don’t know him.” “He looks like someone. He looks like Gregory Peck.”
Ah, Gregory Peck. The star of The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit, a 1956 movie about the advertising industry. But perhaps more famous today as the star of To Kill a Mockingbird, which came out a few years later. As a practicing criminal defense attorney, I’ve never much liked that movie. It’s a bit mawkish for me. But I’ve nothing against Harper Lee, who wrote the novel upon which it was based, and who by all accounts was a very pleasant woman.
She’s been in the news lately because they’ve just published another book of hers; a prequel of sorts to Mockingbird, that she wrote in her youth but subsequently put aside. Her editors apparently thought it wasn’t up to snuff. They suggested she re-work some of its material, though, which she did: resulting in Mockingbird itself. And now there’s some concern that maybe this new book of hers isn’t all that great.
There’s also some concern that maybe she’s being taken advantage of by some money-hungry types eager to cash in on her before it’s too late. I have no opinion on that (other than to hope it isn’t so). But this other business is funny to me.
Now the wonderful fact of the matter is that a lot of great books had no editors at all. Or if they did, these guys were ineffectual. James Joyce’s Ulysses, for instance. Edited? Poorly, I guess. Or Moby Dick: a glorious mess. Or, um, Shakespeare. Not so much edited as chopped up by the players themselves. Nor is every editor out there the equivalent of Maxwell Perkins. Though you wouldn’t know it, to hear about poor Nell Harper and how lousy she wrote without first being told what to do by some guy in New York City…
It’s something, in other words, to assume that because a book lacked an editor, it can’t be any good. That theory has more to do with the modern commodification of fiction than with any truth about art. Maybe this new (old) book will be weirder and wilder than Mockingbird. Maybe it will be tamer and duller. Maybe it will be shaggy, maybe it will be strange. I don’t know. I don’t even care. But maybe people will still simply enjoy sitting down with Harper Lee and seeing what was on her mind fifty or seventy-five years ago. Maybe not everybody; maybe just a few people. And maybe that’s enough.
Because let’s remember this, too: it wasn’t Bach that led to Mozart; it was Handel. It wasn’t Mozart that led to Beethoven; it was Haydn. It wasn’t Beethoven that led to Wagner; it was Meyerbeer. It wasn’t Wagner that led to Mahler; it was Bruckner. And so on, and so on, and so on. There is a great role played by art that itself may not be great. It is enough to inspire; it is enough to challenge; it is enough to be loved.
At least I’d like to think so. But what do I know. I don’t have an editor.
“Now now,” Mercer said. “No autographs, please.”
“Is he famous?” “Search me. I don’t know him.” “He looks like someone. He looks like Gregory Peck.”
Ah, Gregory Peck. The star of The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit, a 1956 movie about the advertising industry. But perhaps more famous today as the star of To Kill a Mockingbird, which came out a few years later. As a practicing criminal defense attorney, I’ve never much liked that movie. It’s a bit mawkish for me. But I’ve nothing against Harper Lee, who wrote the novel upon which it was based, and who by all accounts was a very pleasant woman.
She’s been in the news lately because they’ve just published another book of hers; a prequel of sorts to Mockingbird, that she wrote in her youth but subsequently put aside. Her editors apparently thought it wasn’t up to snuff. They suggested she re-work some of its material, though, which she did: resulting in Mockingbird itself. And now there’s some concern that maybe this new book of hers isn’t all that great.
There’s also some concern that maybe she’s being taken advantage of by some money-hungry types eager to cash in on her before it’s too late. I have no opinion on that (other than to hope it isn’t so). But this other business is funny to me.
Now the wonderful fact of the matter is that a lot of great books had no editors at all. Or if they did, these guys were ineffectual. James Joyce’s Ulysses, for instance. Edited? Poorly, I guess. Or Moby Dick: a glorious mess. Or, um, Shakespeare. Not so much edited as chopped up by the players themselves. Nor is every editor out there the equivalent of Maxwell Perkins. Though you wouldn’t know it, to hear about poor Nell Harper and how lousy she wrote without first being told what to do by some guy in New York City…
It’s something, in other words, to assume that because a book lacked an editor, it can’t be any good. That theory has more to do with the modern commodification of fiction than with any truth about art. Maybe this new (old) book will be weirder and wilder than Mockingbird. Maybe it will be tamer and duller. Maybe it will be shaggy, maybe it will be strange. I don’t know. I don’t even care. But maybe people will still simply enjoy sitting down with Harper Lee and seeing what was on her mind fifty or seventy-five years ago. Maybe not everybody; maybe just a few people. And maybe that’s enough.
Because let’s remember this, too: it wasn’t Bach that led to Mozart; it was Handel. It wasn’t Mozart that led to Beethoven; it was Haydn. It wasn’t Beethoven that led to Wagner; it was Meyerbeer. It wasn’t Wagner that led to Mahler; it was Bruckner. And so on, and so on, and so on. There is a great role played by art that itself may not be great. It is enough to inspire; it is enough to challenge; it is enough to be loved.
At least I’d like to think so. But what do I know. I don’t have an editor.
