Today I read about a new terror that makes the three-strike law look like an hour of community service on the beach. A judge in Pennsylvania condemned a career criminal to read Harper Lee’s classic book, “To Kill a Mockingbird” and write an essay about it. This is just the sort of heavy-handed sentencing that is ruining our judicial system.
Sure, it may seem like an enlightened ruling. Judge Juan Sanchez obviously believed that exposure to great literature about noble men overcoming adversity in the defense of others would inspire the defendant, William Fowlkes, and help him see the error of his criminal ways. One might even admire the judge for taking that extra step to make a difference in someone’s life. But I’d like you to think back to your school days when you were presented with an impenetrable classic and a blank sheet of paper, and see if you’d really prefer hard labor.
I’m saying this as an obsessive reader, mind you. I don’t believe a day has gone by since I was 4 that I haven’t had a book on or near my person, and that includes my wedding day and the birth of my children (although their conception was, if I recall correctly, mostly book-free). And I enjoy writing. But writing assignments, even on books I had read already, left me temporarily illiterate. Ripping out every other page isn’t nearly as deadening to literature as being asked to name the primary and secondary goals of the protagonist, with examples. I would have gone to any length to avoid setting pencil to paper, dreading the moment when I had to take a moving and enjoyable story and dissect it into its component atoms, in much the same way and for the same reasons that frog-lovers despised the anatomy portion of biology class.
Who could deny that court-mandated compositions such as these would be a powerful deterrent? What criminal wouldn’t rethink his life if he knew that by breaking into a car window he might be sentenced to an analysis of “The Crucible”? Might we not see a reduction in drug trafficking if endless stacks of “Heart of Darkness,” with study guides and college-ruled notebooks, were looming in the cellblocks?
For petty offenses and civic violations, I’d recommend a composition on “Great Expectations” by Charles Dickens. Not too harsh, the literary equivalent of traffic court, but I know I’d certainly drive a little more slowly.
For a misdemeanor, I’d have to go with Kafka. A 3,000 word essay on “The Trial” for first-degree, 5,000 words on “The Metamorphosis” (citing at least three sources) for second-degree. It might seem strict, but I think that catching wrongdoers early will pay off later.
Felons would and should receive harsher treatment for their terrible acts. First-degree would call forth the full penalty of William Golding’s “Lord of the Flies,” annotated, with references. I’m afraid the Bronte sisters would come down hard on second-degree felons. Mandatory sentencing would bring forth “Wuthering Heights,” although the defendant could get his sentence reduced to “Jane Eyre” if he was willing to turn state’s evidence. Miscreants convicted of third degree felony would be forever saddled with the stigma of “Tess of the D’Urbervilles,” which would also be placed on his permanent record. For the rest of his life he would be required to affix a copy to the front of his residence as a warning to others.
Upon release, convicted felons would still be required to report to their parole officer once a month to answer questions about “Animal Farm” and its parallels to the Russian Revolution.
For capital crimes, I fear I have no gentler recourse — and believe me when I say how much I regret the necessity — than Russian novelists. The accused may choose to write a dissertation on the supporting characters in either “Crime and Punishment” or “War and Peace,” or he may attempt to appeal the ruling and apply for simple execution.
Analyzing the religious themes in Melville’s “Billy Budd” would be reserved for war criminals and terrorists.
I think this new “Scared Literate” program could work wonders in reducing crime rates. There’s always the chance that it would simply result in smarter, more well-read crooks, but it would be nice to see dog-eared copies of “Cliff Notes” replacing cigarettes as the most desired prison contraband. Call me an elitist, but if I’m going to be mugged I’d rather it be by someone that can discuss Voltaire while I empty my pockets.
Studies would have to be made to decide whether “A Separate Peace” or “The Bell Jar” would be more effective against recividism. What happens if future DNA testing shows that the wrong man was forced to comment on “The Fountainhead”? White-collar criminals such as embezzlers and corporate pirates would probably try to get their sentences commuted to hefty math problems, with their lawyers present (but they’d still have to show their work). Complaints would arise that a disproportionate amount of minority inmates were getting “Johnny Tremain” while white offenders walked free. The ACLU might protest such inhumane treatment and demand “Fahrenheit 451” or “Catch-22” for inmates with good behavior.
Well, forget it. “If you can’t read the book, don’t be a crook.”