MONROEVILLE,
Ala. — Amy Burchfield, an English teacher, drove about nine hours from
Arkansas to stand in line late on Monday night here in the town that Harper Lee made famous in “To Kill a Mockingbird.”
Ms.
Burchfield and her teenage daughter, whom she named Scout, bought two
copies of Ms. Lee’s new novel, “Go Set a Watchman,” which was being
released at midnight on Monday.
Al
Jazeera came, too. And CNN and The Daily Telegraph. So did an Atticus
Finch impersonator from Baltimore who also does a Dean Martin
impression.
At the Ol’ Curiosities and Book Shoppe,
the only bookstore in town, about 200 people showed up. That’s a lot
for a sleepy Southern town like this, but the store had expected twice
as many. They had even hired a food truck to feed the crowd. The cooks
stood idle most of the night.
By
Tuesday morning, the town seemed to hold more journalists, volunteers
and tourism officials than Harper Lee pilgrims. “It’s a historical
event,” said Carrie Johnson, an art teacher at a community college
nearby. “I thought there’d be more people, though.”
Many
residents of Monroeville, not to mention its Chamber of Commerce, had
hoped, and planned, for a grand Harper Lee moment, ever since
HarperCollins announced plans for the book’s publication in February.
Maybe
the lower turnout was because you have to drive 25 minutes off the
interstate to get here, some speculated. Or because it’s a workday. Or
maybe it’s all the controversy.
While
the civic- and literary-minded in town prepared for the rollout of “Go
Set a Watchman,” early reviews shocked fans of Ms. Lee’s first book, “To
Kill a Mockingbird.” First came word that Ms. Lee might not have wanted
to publish the novel she wrote and set aside more than a half-century
ago, an assertion that still has the town divided, and that those close
to her say is not true. Then there was the drastic recasting of Atticus
Finch, who went from the hero in “To Kill a Mockingbird” to an aging and
arthritic bigot in “Go Set a Watchman.”
So
for the hundreds of visitors who showed up to take walking tours,
wander through the library and enjoy free popcorn from the teenager
running the Chamber of Commerce booth, the day was focused as much on
analyzing the new book’s implications as on enjoying being at the
epicenter of one of the biggest literary events in decades.
“People
are already shocked that there was another book to begin with, and now
that they are starting to see what’s in it, it’s just going to get
worse,” said Marie Klepec, a medical assistant and Monroeville County
Museum volunteer who goes to the Methodist church that Ms. Lee attended.
Some
stores in other parts of the country saw an uptick in foot traffic on
Tuesday. “It’s controversial, and I think that’s bringing a lot of
people in,” said Mary Ferris, the assistant manager of the Penguin
Bookshop in Sewickley, Pa., which had a midnight party with a champagne
toast, and has sold nearly 100 books and ordered about 50 more.
But
Monroeville, like a Southern matron with a family crisis but a party to
host, put on its best face on Tuesday. A spokesman for Gov. Robert
Bentley declared Tuesday “Go Set a Watchman” Day, and the museum sold
commemorative silver cups for $55 each that would be filled with
cocktails at 4 p.m.
Spencer
Madrie, who owns the town’s sole bookstore with his mother, said it had
been struggling financially. Then, like a gift from heaven, a new work
was discovered by the most famous author in Alabama. He put 27,000
copies on order, and said on Tuesday afternoon that they had sold at
least 8,500, most of which were preorders.
All
morning, a small handful of volunteers took turns reading from the book
in the courtroom where Ms. Lee grew up watching her father, the lawyer
A. C. Lee, work his craft.
Monroeville
remains divided about whether Ms. Lee, who had a stroke in 2007 and has
been in a 15-bed assisted-living center since then, wanted the new book
published.
The
Alabama historian Wayne Flynt, who visited Ms. Lee on Monday and
delivered a stack of press coverage, is adamant that she welcomed it.
The
new book, he predicted, will ultimately transcend its racial
implications and be seen as a study in how young children view their
parents as perfect and then, between the ages of 13 and 30, see them as
deeply flawed.
Baron
Windham, 24, a Navy pilot living in Florida who grew up in South
Carolina, had only recently read “To Kill a Mockingbird” and was
instantly fascinated, so on Monday he drove to Monroeville. He took a
walking tour and dressed in a seersucker suit for the midnight release
party. On Tuesday, he began reading the new novel.
The
controversy stems partly, he said, from the inability of many readers
to accept what was a common perspective among 1950s Southern
conservatives. “The new Atticus is more like the classic Southerner who
believed integration was the right thing to happen but worried that to
do it quickly would cause damage,” said Mr. Windham, who is white.
“Anytime
Monroeville can get publicity, and it’s good publicity, we welcome it,”
said Annie Hill, 50, who works for the museum and doesn’t think Ms. Lee
approved of the book’s publication.
In
a town where almost half the residents are black, she was one of only a
handful of African-Americans celebrating the book’s release — on a day
meant to honor a novel that took on with full force the racism Ms. Lee
saw in her hometown during the 1950s.
“This
Atticus lived in a different world, but there is a lot under the
surface here still,” she said. Even though, she added, “we can hang out
together and pray together and we seem equal, in some old Southern eyes,
we will never be equal.”
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