“Oh my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you – Oh Absalom, my son, my son!”
- The Book of 2 Samuel 18:33
“Good wombs have borne bad sons.”
- Miranda, in William Shakespeare’s The Tempest, Act I, Scene 2
“On April 20, 1999, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold armed themselves with guns and explosives and walked into Columbine High School. They killed twelve students and a teacher, and wounded twenty-four others, before taking their own lives. It was the worst school shooting in history. Dylan Klebold was my son…”
- Sue Klebold, from the opening lines of A Mother’s Reckoning
This is a tough one. I got it as soon as it came out, and then it languished on my shelf. I needed the right mindset to crack the covers, and that mindset eluded me.
I’ve been interested in Columbine from the moment I heard about the shooting. I was a senior in high school when it happened, just weeks away from graduation. There had been mass shootings before (such as Charles Whitman’s 1966 spree in Austin), and there had been terrible assaults on schools before (such as the 1927 Bath School bombing that killed 38 children), but I had never heard of them, or if I had, I never cared. But then Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold, students like me, walked into Columbine High School, a school like my own, and killed a dozen of their classmates, who could have been my friends. Something about the timing of the shooting imprinted itself on me. I have been reading about it ever since.
Thus, when Sue Klebold, the mother of one of the killers, Dylan, wrote a book about her experience, I ordered it without thinking. As soon as I looked at the cover, though, with a photo of a five year-old Dylan smiling next to his mother, I set it down. I wasn’t sure I needed to know what was inside.
Then came Parkland. The massacre of more innocents at a high school. And the book came off the shelf. Not unexpectedly, it was heavy. Quite unexpectedly, it struck me with its importance. This is a book that parents of school-age kids should read.
A Mother’s Reckoning is one of those titles that works despite the writing. Klebold’s style is not elegant. The best that can be said for her prose is that it is coherent. The structure tends to be a bit rambling, and certain points are made repetitively. You might expect me to say that Klebold’s work is “unflinching,” but it is not. It flinches a lot. She goes out of her way to show deference and respect to the victims, prefacing many of her discussions with pre-apologies. While I understand and respect the intent, the result is a book that can be painfully self-conscious at times. She seems intent on heading off every counterargument before it’s made, leading to a lot of needless verbiage that disrupts the flow of her story. To avoid passing any blame from Dylan, Klebold fails to fully explore certain topics that might have been worth noting. For example, she raises the issue of Columbine’s toxic environment, but does not pursue the discussion. Undoubtedly, she did this to avoid any accusations that she was trying to shift liability. Similarly, of the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department, she has almost only good things to say, which is quite remarkable, since she’s about the only one to praise them.
A Mother’s Reckoning is tough to classify. The shadow of Columbine obviously lingers over every word, comma, semi-colon, and period. Yet, the actual shooting is dealt with only minimally. The book opens with an account of Klebold and her husband learning about the shooting, and the agonizing aftermath of discovering that not only had their son died, but that he had been the cause of so much suffering. There is also, about midway through, a terse yet excruciating passage in which Klebold narrates, victim by victim, her son’s rampage through the school. Otherwise, though, she mostly leaves the events of April 20, 1999, in the background (those wishing to know the full story would be well-served by Dave Cullen’s Columbine).
Instead, Klebold has a lot of other things on her mind. In part, this is a memoir about grief. Klebold’s struggle with her son’s death will be familiar to anyone who has lost a loved one. Of course, her experience was magnified beyond quantification due to the circumstances of Dylan’s death. She had to grieve in private, while fending off reporters, receiving hate mail, having her entire life adjudicated in the press, and dealing with law enforcement. It is a situation almost beyond imagination.
A Mother’s Reckoning is also, in a way, a biography of Dylan Klebold, filtered through a forensic microscope. Klebold narrates Dylan’s life from the moment he was born. What was he like? What where his hobbies? How did he act? Above all: What were the warning signs? Overall, Dylan not only seemed normal, but rather well-adjusted. He didn't torture animals or get in trouble at a very early age. He had friends. He lived in a solid middle-class household. Negative environmental factors were almost non-existent. He wasn’t pampered but he wasn’t poor. He had the ability to hold down a job and get good grades. Despite the normalcy, Klebold uses a fine-tooth comb trying to find the missing link.
The link, Klebold ultimately discovers, was Dylan’s depression. It was a depression that he hid as well as his weapons, explosives, and the troubling videotapes he made with Eric Harris.
Klebold does not come to her conclusions lightly. She has spoken to a wide variety of mental health professionals, physicians, and other related experts. Part of her story is intensely personal. Other parts are admirably objective. She seems to be intellectualizing the tragedy as a way of coping with it.
The most powerful part of A Mother’s Reckoning is how Klebold reframes the Columbine massacre as not only an act of mass murder, but an act of suicide. She has support here from many experts, including Adam Lankford, whose book, The Myth of Martyrdom, argued that suicidal acts of terror can often be linked to depression and suicide.
According to many who have studied the shootings, Eric Harris was a stone psychopath. His journals are filled with a desire to kill the world. Conversely, Dylan Klebold’s journals are filled with love; that is, a feeling that he was not loved, or could not find love. He was, in short, intensely depressed and looking to end his own life. To the detriment of so many, he came into contact with Harris, and their individual mental health crises complemented each other in the worst possible way.
Klebold’s discussion of suicide and depression are the reason I recommend this book. School shootings are terrible, and they are frightening. They are also, like plane crashes, statistically unlikely. Further, the odds of me raising a mass shooter – while greater than zero – are again not high.
Suicide, on the other hand, is one of the leading causes of death among young people. I have never met or known a school shooter or school shooting victim. I have known three people who have killed themselves, and two others who made real attempts. Suicide, as Klebold explains, is not an impulsive act, even though it often seems rash. Someone loses a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, or gets embarrassed in class, or gets called out on social media, and the next minute, they are dead, in an act that seems unplanned. As discussed here, with the input of real experts, that is often not the case. The final act may be precipitous, but there was likely a long series of moments, haunted by “the noonday demon”, that led to that final irreversible act. That depression can be masked, that the symptoms can be so quotidian, is what makes it so terrifying.
A Mother’s Reckoning says a lot of things that are hard to hear but dangerous to ignore.