Read "Mockingbird": Unknown Harper Lee stories are released in Russia
One of the main literary events of 2025 is the release of Harper Lee's collection of unknown short stories, The Desired Country. These stories were found after the death of the author of To Kill a Mockingbird, they were never published, but in them you can see not only sketches for the most important American novel of the twentieth century, but even individual storylines and characters. All these short stories were included in the collection "The Desired Country". It was released in English in October and became a sensation. Now AST publishing house is releasing it in Russian. Izvestia publishes an entire collection of short stories.
Harper Lee. "A whole room of dog food"
(from the collection "The Desired country")
My friend Sarah Mitchell is having a hard time coming to terms with herself these days. And no wonder, after what she did. She went through all the excuses in the world, and while she was looking for a new psychiatrist, she drove the old one to exhaustion. I was the one who advised Sarah to see a psychiatrist, hoping that he would have to answer Sarah's calls day and night, not me.
The other day, I chatted with Sarah's doctor—her psychiatrist, by the way, is not a man, but an elderly lady—and she explained the reason for my friend's behavior, but I still didn't believe her. The poor old lady complained that she was damn tired of listening to Sarah's stories at three o'clock in the morning about how someone was banging on her apartment door, a perfectly understandable complaint, especially considering who she was coming from.
Sarah had undoubtedly been with hi before this incident. I had known her for many years, we studied at the university together, and even then she was an outlandish phenomenon — she managed to get drunk with two glasses, collapse into unconsciousness on the floor, and nothing, not even the threat of expulsion, could make her get up. I went to Sarah's bed more than once to cover for her absence, when the head of the women's dormitory came to count on their heads who was in place and who was not, while my friend was lying unconscious in someone's apartment. The next day, she didn't remember anything.
On top of everything else, she was swearing profanely. I have never met a person who speaks a language as well as Sarah Mitchell, and uses it so unceremoniously. Deans, boyfriends, waitresses, postmen—everyone who came across Sarah became the target of a torrent of curses. Because of this habit, she was picked up by the dean of the women's faculty, whose students were waiting for a suitable excuse to expel Sarah. Eventually, that's what happened —she was expelled for a bottle of beer. At first glance, it's not much of a sin, but I'm talking about the University of Alabama. The local young ladies were not supposed to smell anything but Chanel No. 5 and Lavoris for four years.
Anyway, Sarah left the university when storm clouds gathered over her. She was suspected of cheating, stealing, late-night visits to the Calloway Auditorium, promiscuity, and disrespectful treatment of the dean of the women's faculty. However, they only proved the presence of a bottle of beer in their hands. Of course, Sarah didn't have to parade along the university avenue with her, it was a frivolous act, and it was enough to expel Sarah from the university.
American writer Harper Lee
As she furiously packed her things, she was most indignant that the sycophant Georgine Faircloth, after she was caught completely naked in a rowing boat on the Black Warrior River, was given only a ban for a month and a half to leave campus, and she, Sarah Mitchell, was expelled, allegedly only because her father, unlike There was no money from Georgine's daddy. Besides, Georgine was a member of Beta Nude. Any student who even promised to join Beta Nu received huge benefits at the university, because this sorority was founded by the sister of Jefferson Davis's wife **. As soon as Sarah opened her mouth, Beta Nu members swooped in and threw her out like a brick burning her hands, but if she was offended, she didn't show it. Thus, she became the most independent among the independent university students.
In her sophomore year, Sarah secretly got married, which was worse than drinking, then divorced, which was worse than getting married. The husband turned out to be a guy from Birmingham with great oddities, who put himself above everyone else, but most importantly, above Sarah. Sarah's father helped her get rid of the marriage, without admitting how much it cost him. Mr. Mitchell was rich, but he considered even five dollars a lot of money because he had known poverty in the distant past.
Sarah's mom was a nightmare of the highest order. She was one of those people who laughed at the top of her voice, making hiccuping noises at the end, resembling the cry of a donkey, which in some areas of the state passed for good manners. Mrs. Mitchell, without even opening her mouth, managed to make it clear that everything around her, including the time of day, was indecent. She had long ago recognized in her heart that Sarah was her disgrace and payback for certain acts of indecency on the part of her husband, and treated her daughter accordingly.
No wonder Sarah went to New York as soon as she graduated from high school. Her parents wouldn't have had her in their house anyway. They reveled in martyrdom too much to let their daughter destroy that image. People in the Mitchell hometown were incredibly nice to them; when it became known about Sarah's expulsion, her parents received more dinner invitations in the next two weeks than in the entire previous year.
I hadn't heard from anyone else or from Sarah for two years, until I moved to New York and ran into her on Fifth Avenue. You know how it is: sooner or later, you can meet anyone you know on Fifth Avenue. Anyway, we met. Sarah greeted me with the usual questions for such an occasion and invited me to her house to look at her boys.
"The boys?" I asked again. "I didn't know you were married again."
"I didn't go out,— replied the same old Sarah.
However, something subtly changed in her appearance. In physical form. Sarah, of course, had gained weight, which happens to all college graduates in two years, and looked more well-groomed than in the old days, but it was difficult to judge what was hidden under the coat. Finally, I realized what was going on—in her hands. She had large square hands—like a cotton picker's, according to Sarah herself—with long fingers that widened rather than narrowed at the ends. For the first time since we first met, I noticed how clumsily she uses her hands. Sarah seemed to be having trouble with the most mundane things, like taking her wallet out of her pocket to pay for a bus ticket. When it was more natural to bend her fingers, she curled them. Although it was cold outside, she occasionally ran the base of her palm over her coat, as if wiping away sweat. In all other respects, Sarah has not changed at all.
A shot from the movie "To Kill a Mockingbird"
I was introduced to the boys at her house. They turned out to be two huge dogs, which I took for mastiffs. Sarah corrected me, saying that they were boxers. She rented a two—room apartment, she lived in one room, the dogs in the other. Along the walls of the dog room, boxes of food were piled up to the ceiling. Sarah complained that the dogs were eating food like crazy and that almost her entire salary was spent on their maintenance.
Over drinks, Sarah filled in the blanks. When she arrived in New York, she first got a job as a clerk recording the answers of applicants for "soap" quiz shows - the ones where the answer should consist of no more than twenty five words.
She rented an apartment with a colleague from Albania and his friends, mostly from Central Europe. Sarah believed that this was the way most New Yorkers lived their lives. At least that's what she told me. She had to move when the Albanian and his friends staged a three-day showdown, which eventually had to be broken up by the police. Sarah was arrested for disorderly conduct and given a suspended sentence. She was kicked out of work, of course, because she didn't show up and didn't even call.
While searching for a new apartment, Sarah was sheltered by the Young Women's Christian Association, but she ran away from there and spent two nights at Penn Station because the association reminded her too much of Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell. In the end, she found a job as a secretary, receptionist, cashier and librarian in a certain "organization of freethinkers", where she could conduct business at her discretion, which she was very pleased with.
A shot from the movie "To Kill a Mockingbird"
Sarah was still working there at the time of our first meeting in New York. I soon resumed contacts with university graduates who had graduated and moved to New York before me, and was accepted into the Alabama crowd. I tried to take Sarah with me to their parties and gatherings, but she turned up her nose. Sarah declared that she was out of her way with aging snobs who adored university rules. In the end, I convinced Sarah to come with me to one of the evenings, and she had a great time, but that's just bad luck.: I fell in love again with a guy who was the male equivalent of a typical beta nude contestant. He told Sarah a lot, even though he wasn't going to get married at all. As a result, she almost committed suicide.
Perhaps the brief affair did some good, as it took Sarah's attention away from the dogs for a while. I'm actually not against dogs, but I don't like it when boxers sit on my lap, hug their paws around my neck and completely fill the space of a tiny apartment.
Very soon I realized that one unkind word spoken to this animal infuriates Sarah, and even what! I expected that time had softened the sharpness of her tongue, but I was completely mistaken — she only expanded her vocabulary to include selected expressions from the northern regions of America. You know, when a New Yorker starts swearing, his ears wither. According to Sarah, the neighbor couldn't stand her dogs and once threatened to call the police because the dogs were making terrible bedlam.
"You can imagine what I said to her,— Sarah said with feeling.
A shot from the movie "To Kill a Mockingbird"
It soon became clear that Sarah had very few or no friends at all. She, like any girl, was able to shine if she wanted to, but as soon as she went on a date, she ruined all the raspberries herself — after getting drunk, she first told her life story, then turned off, which caused her to lose all the points she earned. As far as I could tell, she didn't have any girlfriends at all, and she didn't seem to want to have any. But for some reason, Sarah tolerated me by her side, and I, feeling sorry for her, played along.
Nevertheless, friendship with Sarah was not easy. Being friends with her meant listening to endless retellings of complaints about old grievances. All her misadventures were neatly packed in boxes with reproach labels and laid out on shelves, and Sarah kept opening these boxes and gnawing on their contents, like dogs gnawing on food.
She got into the habit of calling me in the middle of the night, with the main reasons being Georgine Faircloth, the night she spent in a prison cell in Montgomery when Sarah's boyfriend crashed into another car, or the harsh treatment from her father after he bought her from her husband. The problem was that Sarah's incessant monologues kept me awake until dawn. When I couldn't stand it anymore and hung up a couple of times without waiting for the conversation to end, Sarah would get offended and say that I didn't care a damn how much she'd been through. I've never encountered someone so self-conscious before.
A shot from the movie "To Kill a Mockingbird"
Oh my God! I've been talking about Sarah for so long that I completely forgot to tell her about her prank. It happened one morning a few weeks ago. Sarah caught a cold and didn't go to work, or so she claims. I think one of her dogs got sick, and she stayed at home to take care of him. At about ten thirty in the morning, someone started banging furiously on her apartment door. Sarah opened it.
Standing on the doorstep was her neighbor, Mrs. Folmer, with whom Sarah had once had a fight over dogs. Mrs. Folmer somehow managed to set fire to her dress—perhaps it got splashed with burning fat—and was engulfed in flames. In the end, Sarah slammed the door in her neighbor's face, and Mrs. Folmer was reduced to embers in the hallway.
Now Sarah is calling me about this too. No, honestly, she got to me.
*Brand of dental mouthwash elixir
Jefferson Davis (1808-1889) was an American soldier, statesman and politician, the first and only president of the Confederate States of America during the Civil War.
Переведено сервисом «Яндекс Переводчик»
