Yeah, okay..... I'll write it....
Here's the important thing, first; empathy is a feeling, not an action. The impact of choices is where the heart of it lies, but you do not need to be empathetic to be kind.
The Mysterious Benedict Society is about being brave. It is about being good, mostly, and all the ways such a simple thing can fall apart in your hands. It is about love, mostly, and the way that it is can be a mercy. The way it is a gift.
Reynie Muldoon in this world is not empathetic. He does not pity the other orphan boys and he does not frown over Milligan's sad, empty face. One by one, Kate and Sticky tell their stories, and Reynie has no tears in his eyes or pain in his heart. He simply listens, and tries to understand.
This is not wishing Reynie an easy path, but in any world there is no easy path to take. It is just a different flavour of hardship, a similar trail three steps to the left. It is Reynie sitting through enforced movie nights at the orphanage dry-eyed as Mufasa falls to his doom, and multiple minders over the years sighing, "Well, think about how he feels, Reynard. "
At nine, Reynie works his way through an ever growing list of psychological books and social cue self-help stories with a growing desperation, because each and everyone of them says the same thing; there is something wrong.
There is something wrong with you.
(He tells Miss Perumal, at some point, after a careful measure of calculation. Everything in the world is painting this as a flaw, and teachers are the ones who are supposed to fix things. It is only logical. It is only right. But Miss Perumal only looks at him over the rim of curved ceramics, considering. She says, slowly, "We can practice, if you like, but I'm not sure this is something that needs to be fixed." A pause. "I'll look into it.")
(In any universe, Miss Perumal just wants Reynie Muldoon to be happy.)
This Reynie has to work harder to comfort Sticky and starts with less patience for Constance. Kate takes longer to warm to him, keeping a spy glass with its hidden lens on. This Reynie does not hold as many things safe behind his teeth, forgetting to be afraid of bringing down the mood. He asks questions more easily, even when some might prefer them unvoiced, because Reynie Muldoon in any universe is clever, and he is always putting together puzzle pieces based on facts, and logic, and the way the world works. It's just in this one he asks as the thoughts come to him, probing. So much of this world is built on constructs of politeness, on little white lies and planned empty spaces where words could hurt, or embarrass, or shame in tiny inconsequential ways. What's the point of all that? Reynie Muldoon is trying to understand. He is trying, period.
(It is an uncomfortable thing, to be the odd one out in a room full of people meant to be outsiders. It is not an easy thing to be working on different frameworks. It is not an easy thing, to be.)
This is not wishing Reynie an easy path. This is Reynie,who finds the answer to Mr. Benedict's riddle far quicker in this universe, and tells the others it's cheating with little fanfare. (He doesn't all the way understand the others' shocked reactions.) This is Reynie, who listens to Mr. Curtain proclaim them as one and the same and feels his stomach twist and twist and twist.
(There is something wrong with you, says a voice in his brain, growing loud and louder still.)
This is Reynie, two days without sleep in the bunk bed of the dormitory. There is doubt in his inside of his ribcage, weighing him down, not because he is afraid he is not brave enough to carry the weight but because he is afraid he is not good.
(In any world, Reynie gets the answer to the chess question right. In any world, Benedict reminds Reynie that the white knight retreated because of doubt inside its stone chest, and Reynie goes back to bed to write another mental letter.)
No. No. This is not wishing Reynie an easy path. But you do not need to be empathetic to be kind. It is not a prerequisite. Actions, not emotions. This is the heart of it.
This is a Reynie who still snaps his pencil in half for Rhonda, because you do not need empathy to believe that things should be fair. This is a Reynie who encourages Sticky, even if Sticky must first figure out how to ask for it. This is a Reynie who never begrudges Constance's bouts of intentional rudeness, because she never begrudges his own unintentional discourtesy. Kate calls him "comfortingly blunt," and Nicholas Benedict just smiles, eyes twinkling
I am thinking of the end of Book 3, where Constance nudges Mr. Benedict's head into order and the narcolepsy leaves him. I am thinking about how this is a series about choices, and what you make of them.
Do you think she offers? Do you think she says, "I can fix it. I can do it, if you want."
Do you think Reynie, who is older and wiser and quietly coming into his own, says, "I'm not sure it's something that needs to be fixed."
Empathy is an emotion. It is not action. It is not kindness, or fairness, or a sense of wrong and right. It is not leadership, or cleverness, or friendship. It is not love.
Reynie is made of so many things beyond his empathy, or his lack of it.
This is a Reynie who saves the world, still, still, still. Because he can do it. Because it is right. This is a Reynie who makes his first friends, and puts together puzzle pieces, and steps up to the role of leader, shoulders curved under the weight. A Reynie Muldoon who curls up in Miss Perumal's arms when it's all over. A Reynie Muldoon who is a little different, but much the same; kind, determined, and good.
A Reynie Muldoon who is loved all the way through, who loves all the way back, and feels so, so lucky.
Because in any universe, love can be a mercy.