A collective shout of happy outburst went through my twitter time line when the news about Harper Lee’s ‘new’ book reached the media. It seems as if most of the people I follow are overjoyed with excitement over this. Everybody seemed to LOVE To kill a mocking bird.
I am on the other side.
I do have a very good excuse though to not be jumping around squealing. To Kill a Mocking bird was set to me as a class assignment. There are few things that can kill a great book as much as a class assignment. The promise by a well-meaning teacher that at the end of a delightful read, there are ten questions to answer, and a 3 page book review to be written, which of course will be graded. And by the way the dead line is in two weeks.
I think there are several great books that I would have enjoyed more if only I was not forced to read it in school and write an essay about it. I have long been of the opinion that I like a book, because I like it. That’s it. Sometimes it is the plot, sometimes the prose, but sometimes though it is simply the mood I am in when I read it.
One day I might be brave enough to re-read To Kill a Mocking Bird again, until then I will not join in with the squeals.