"Now think about this. What would happen if all the Negroes in the South were suddenly given full civil rights? I'll tell you. There'd be another Reconstruction. Would you want your state governments run by people who don't know how to run 'em? Do you want this town run by--now wait a minute--Willoughby's a crook, we know that, but do you know of any Negro who knows as much as Willoughby? Zeebo'd probably be Mayor of Maycomb. Would you want someone of Zeebo's capability to handle the town's money? We're outnumbered, you know. 
 "Honey, you do not seem to understand that the Negroes down here are still in their childhood as a people. You should know it, you've seen it all your life. They've made terrific progress in adapting themselves to white ways, but they're far from it yet. They were coming along fine, traveling at a rate they could absorb, more of 'em voting than ever before. Then the NAACP stepped in with its fantastic demands and shoddy ideas of government--can you blame the South for resenting being told what to do about its own people by people who have no idea of its daily problems? 
 I understand that there are a lot of controversy and conspiracy theories regarding the publication of this book, and for good reason. 
 I read To Kill a Mockingbird in 8th grade. It was class reading. I watched the movie starring Gregory Peck, he of the patrician demeanor, he who, indubitably, best portrayed the noble American icon that is Atticus Finch. 
 To tell you the truth, I didn't really understand the book and what it symbolized then. I was in 8th grade. I had arrived in the US just a few years before. My command of the English was good, but as with all younger teens, the symbolism of the book and its significance largely escaped me. I lacked the analytical skills to truly understand what it meant, what a landmark it was in terms of American history. 
 In 8th grade, before reading this book, our class studied American history. We studied slavery, the Civil War. We studied the ugly past of racism and segregation. We studied Martin Luther King. As a newly arrived immigrant, this should have made an impact on me, but again, I was so young that I didn't truly understand the significance. 
 It was only later on, when I was older, that I understood how important this book was, and how remarkable the character of Atticus Finch was. He, and this book is an American institution. A symbol of righteousness in a past filled with racial injustice. A defender of the underdog. 
 Which is why this book, this sequel to the iconic To Kill a Mockingbird is such a disappointment. If I must be honest, it should never have been written, for in this book, the shining beacon that is Atticus Finch has been grossly tarnished. He has now grown old, bitter, and racist. 
 Yes, I understand that people change. We all do. I understand that a good lawyer can present his case regardless of his beliefs, but that's not the point. The point is that Atticus Finch is such an outstanding figure that it feels wrong somehow to blacken his image. No pun intended. 
 I've seen comparisons to how this book is the most anticipated book since the release of Harry Potter. Well, what if J.K. Rowlings had released a sequel to Harry Potter, in which Harry is an old, grumpy man, going through a mid-life crisis, leering at young girls at the gym, cheating on his wife, ignoring his children? 
 Nobody would like that. Some symbols are here to stay. Some things are meant to remain the way they are. Some things should remain pure. The memory of To Kill a Mockingbird and that of Atticus Finch should be one of them. 
 I wish this book had been left to rot as an old, forgotten manuscript in some long-forgotten warehouse. I want to remember Atticus Finch as a paragon. Sometimes, I want simplicity, and I want bliss in ignorance. 
 She heard her father's voice, a tiny voice talking in the warm comfortable past. Gentlemen, if there's one slogan in this world I believe, it is this: equal rights for all, special privileges for none. 
 The one human being she had ever fully and wholeheartedly trusted had failed her; the only man she had ever known to whom she could point and say with expert knowledge, "He is a gentleman, in his heart he is a gentleman," had betrayed her, publicly, grossly, and shamelessly.