Every time the name of this book came up, I would wrinkle my nose and shake my head “no” in response to the question “Have you read it?”. It’s amazing how false perceptions about things can keep something that really is good out of your life.

A few months ago I decided to finally start opening up and reading some of the books that have always been touted as “required reading” for schools. Being homeschooled, I was never required to read any particular books – and as I read quite voraciously, it was never really an issue. A few months ago I read The Catcher in the Rye and did not see what the big issue was. It was okay, but not the best thing I’d ever read and I was far from astounded by it.

With that further prejudice in mind I approached To Kill a Mockingbird with not a little bit of hesitation. I was sucked in almost immediately though. I could picture the town, the setting. I could see Scout clearly and found myself catching my breath and blinking back tears more than a few times. I fell in love with Atticus – what an incredible man he was in this story. I loved the quirks and the twists, the “spooky” nature of Boo, I cried at the story of Tom Robinson and I cheered at the dismal ending to Bob Ewell.

But most of all, I felt ashamed of myself. Shame that I had let something silly like enjoying the shock people had when I told them I hadn’t read this book – keep me from reading this book. Truth be told, I denied myself something pretty special and I plan to make up for it by reading this one again and again.