Harper Lee’s second novel, “Go Set a Watchman,” hit the shelves last week, bringing with it a storm of controversy.

The book follows a 26-year-old Scout Finch — now going by her proper name, Jean Louise — as she returns home to Maycomb, Ala. It is not a true sequel to the celebrated “To Kill A Mockingbird,” but rather a “companion” story.

“Watchman” was set to be the literary event of 2015. Then it was revealed that the beloved Atticus Finch had been recast has a racist — the antithesis of what he stood for in “Mockingbird.” The thought of having such a revered character turned into a villain threw Harper Lee fans into turmoil.

Many people I’ve talked to about the book are skipping it. They hoped for a “Mockingbird Part Two: All Grown Up.” For them, the ugly, inverted world of “Watchman” holds no appeal. My girlfriend likened the situation to Disney’s betrayal with the straight-to-video “Pocahontas 2:” “In the first movie, John Smith was the dude. He was supposed to be it. That was the deal. Then the second movie ruined everything.”

I had to find out for myself how “Watchman” affected the legacy of “To Kill a Mockingbird.”

The novel opens with Scout aboard a train, eager to return to her family. As readers, we mirror much of what she feels throughout the book. Cracking open the pages and returning to the world of Boo Radley and Dill Harris — even if we know the shocks that are coming — still feels good. But this is no easy homecoming; both our world and the world of Maycomb County have changed considerably since our last visit.

And then it feels just like this:

Scout’s abhorrence at her father’s racial ideology is the central conflict of the story. Atticus is not as flagrantly offensive as some news pieces may have implied, but he is undoubtedly racist. He cares about African-Americans — but he views them as incapable of playing a role in the system of government. There are many tangents of political philosophy, ranging from his stance of Jeffersonian Democracy to the fierce individualism of the South. These may be part of the relevant “depth and context” the book jacket lauds, but to a modern reader, they seem peripheral at best.

He supports eventual integration, saying that he believes that they simply aren’t ready yet. But it is clear that it is Atticus himself who is not ready for an integrated society.

Little transpires throughout the novel — it’s largely Scout becoming reacclimated to Maycomb and dealing with her familial strife. Far and away, the best parts of the book are Scout’s memories of her childhood and adolescence. These all hold up to the vignettes of Mockingbird. Scout recounts staging a Baptist revival with Jem and Henry, as well as going to senior prom and losing her “falsies,” both with hilarious outcomes. In addition to a more pleasing subject matter, these passages carry a certain clarity and sureness that the rest of the narrative lacks.

Without spoiling any particulars, the culmination of the novel will leave even the most-forgiving of readers unsatisfied. For the time it was written, what happens may seem reasonable. To a modern audience it falls flat. The messages of “Watchman” — be they on race, morals or individualism — are obfuscated by a troubled plot. Much of “Watchman” concerns Scout’s trust in Atticus and where her conscience diverges from his; the book falters critically when the reader’s conscience diverges from Scout.

“Watchman” does have value. Though it casts a shadow on the beloved “Mockingbird,” it expands the story. It’s another piece of literature that engages our discussion on morality and race. Like Scout, we may someday have to face the fall of our heroes, our guides. When that day comes, all we have left is our conscience.

The final word: “Watchman” is a flawed story that is not easy to enjoy. Die-hard fans might find it worth the time to skim through for the flashbacks.

And don’t worry: Unlike Disney’s “Pocahontas,” no one can ever ruin the greatness of “To Kill a Mockingbird.”

— Eli Hoelscher is a Readers’ Services Assistant at Lawrence Public Library. Eli likes Raymond Carver, books with immersing landscapes, art films, bildungsromans, anti-heroes, “The Trumpet of the Swan,” harrowing and emotional stories, and a quart of potato salad, please.