confession

Okay, I have a confession. I didn’t read To Kill a Mockingbird in high school. Mrs. Manetta, if you’re reading this, I am desperately sorry. I did skim enough of it to pass the tests, but I didn’t get it because that was my only goal. I think it was the same for a lot of my school reading. I didn’t read for enjoyment, I read because I had to, and consequently I didn’t enjoy what I read most of the time.

So my resolution to read a book a month has found me reading To Kill a Mockingbird, all of my own accord this time. I am only a handful of chapters from the end now. I have to admit I never thought I would find this kind of book funny, but I really do. Aside from the tragic commentary on racism, of course, I have found myself laughing out loud at the author’s descriptions of the world from the point of view of an eight year old tomboy. Here is my favorite so far:

Today was Sunday, and Aunt Alexandra was positively irritable on the Lord’s Day. I guess it was her Sunday corset. She was not fat, but solid, and she chose protective garments that drew up her bosom to giddy heights, pinched in her waist, flared out her rear, and managed to suggest that Aunt Alexandra’s was once an hour-glass figure. From any angle, it was formidable.

I love to read great stories, and this is definitely one of them. It is unfortunate that I’ve missed out on this one for so long, though I doubt that the 15 year old version of myself could have appreciated it.