I am currently reading The Half-Blood Prince in French. Yes, I've made it that far... I am quite proud of myself and very much enjoying this new way of reading Harry Potter.
And it led to an interesting conversation with a blood technician at our local hospital. I was sent, you see, to have blood drawn for some routine tests and, thinking I would likely have to wait in several lines for an hour or more at the hospital, I brought my HP book with me..
Surprise! Surprise!
With their new scheduling and check-in system, the hospital has actually managed to streamline its process immensely and I spent no longer than 5 minutes in total waiting. Impressive.
It turns out the young technician who took my blood was both a native French speaker and a Harry Potter fan. He spotted my book immediately and complimented my on my taste in literature. This led to a conversation about what it's like to read Harry Potter originally in French.
He laughed at my questions about the challenges posed by reading an English book in its French translation in which, while most characters speak English, several recurring characters speak French or, at times, English with a French accent.
I asked him specifically how a French reader would deal with the situation, as takes place in The Goblet of Fire, where the main characters (who are English but, in the French translation, are speaking French) encounter a group of Beauxbatons students (who are French and are, in the French translation, are still speaking French) and yet cannot understand each other.
He thought it was an interesting question. "I guess," he said, his eyes wide, "that we just naturally read it with the understanding that they are speaking different languages, even though they are both written as if they are speaking French."
Then he realised how bizarre his statement sounded and laughed out loud.
But it made sense to me. In order to cope, French readers of Harry Potter must make some mental note that differentiates between the English speaking characters and the French speaking ones.
It was a fun and interesting conversation, one that made what I had anticipated would be a difficult experience actually rather enjoyable.
Two other thoughts that arose in this context:
1. Despite the fact that I have always been angry that Scholastic Books in the U.S. required that the original books be "Americanized" for publication in the States, I have come to realise that it would be more profitable if I treated the Scholastic Books version as translations of the original: from English to American.
2. On several occasions now, I have noticed that the French translator (Menard) has substituted appropriate French metaphors and sayings for the English ones that Rowling originally included. There is so much more to translating a novel than simply translating the words!!!!
Thursday, August 25, 2016
Monday, August 1, 2016
The Cursed Play and the death of subtlety
That must be some production in London to be getting all those rave reviews.
Because, having now read the "Special Rehearsal Edition Script" of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (Parts 1 and 2), I can tell you: it's a really bad play.
Worse still, it's bad Harry Potter.
I had high hopes for The Cursed Play, looking forward to seeing what J.K. Rowling, who (to my mind) is a brilliant, masterful writer of prose, would do with a Harry Potter script. Could she translate her remarkable gifts into this very different style of writing?
But this play was not written by Rowling: it was written by Jack Thorne, "based on an original new story by J.K. Rowling, John Tiffany & Jack Thorne", according to the new book's cover.
What exactly does that mean? It's clear that J.K. has endorsed The Cursed Play -- she promotes it every chance she gets -- but how much input did she really have in the its writing?
From the quality of the written script, I would say, "Not much".
The plot is as complicated and silly as they come. Albus makes friends with Scorpius, two loners who find each other as they try to survive their first year at Hogwarts, each struggling under the weight of his real or suspected lineage.
Albus hates his father (though we're never sure exactly why) and so, when he overhears Harry Potter refuse old Amos Diggory's request that he use a newly discovered Time Turner to go back to the Tri-Wizard Tournament and save Amos' son Cedric, Albus decides that he and Scorpius must steal the Time Turner, save Cedric and put his father forever in his place.
All kinds of mayhem ensues, including multiple incursions into the past, the creation of several alternate (and successively darker) timelines, extensive dream sequences, murder, deceit, and the inevitable return of Lord Voldemort.
Thorne manages to introduce or mention just about every character of any stature from the original seven Harry Potter novels, to revisit location after location from those books and to raise for discussion most of the major emotional themes Rowling wove so carefully into her original story.
It's like really bad fan fiction. Or like a rabid Potter fan wrote down every character, location and theme they could think of, threw the list at the playwright and said: "Write a play that mentions every one of these, no matter how long and convoluted it becomes." And Thorne seems to have accepted that challenge as ranking in importance above any need to structure the plot, for example.
Worse still, Thorne's dialogue is remarkably bland and banal. If he isn't copying directly (or at least, semi-directly, with whatever revisions he sees fit to make) from the books themselves, Thorne is typing out long-winded, white-bread dialogue the voice and diction of which changes little from character to character and which often has characters displaying remarkable, unbelievable levels of self-awareness.
Whereas Rowling managed to tailor her dialogue perfectly to her different characters, to create unique voices for each (using everything from word choice to the rhythm of their speech), Thorne uses a one-voice-fits-all kind of approach. I guess he figures he should leave it to the actors to give his dialogue personality. To some extent, that approach makes sense but it doesn't excuse the absolute lack of personality in the dialogue.
I can imagine that the stage production of the play is fantastic. The budget must be enormous to create underwater scenes, dream sequences, wand duels and all kinds of magical effects. Add to that a total of 75 scenes across four acts and a cast of more than 30 actors playing uncountable numbers of roles.
What really worries me, however, is that The Cursed Play does not even seem to me to be good Harry Potter.
For example, isn't it well established that no witch or wizard could even see the Potters' home in Godric's Hollow while James and Lily were still alive unless they had been told where it is by the Secret Keeper, on account of Dumbledore's powerful Fidelius Charm? So how do Scorpius and Albus look in its windows when they arrive to intercept Delphi?
And isn't it also well established that Polyjuice Potion takes months to brew? If so, then how do Scorpius, Albus and Delphi manage to get some for their highly derivative incursion into the Ministry? And why do they ever consider using it in Godric's Hollow?
And, although never clear, isn't it true that Harry's scar hurt because 1) he had a bit of Voldemort's soul inside him and 2) Voldemort was either nearby or really emotional? So how come Harry's scar hurts in this book when the bit of soul is gone and Voldemort is long dead and nowhere near?
And why does the transfiguration of Harry wear off?
Those are small questions. Even more problematic in my mind are the several scenes of dialogue in which characters attempt to address moral, philosophical or emotional questions left hanging in the original novels. Particularly egregious among these is that awful scene in Act Four, Scene Four where Harry and Dumbledore (through the former headmaster's portrait) manage to say all the things that were left unsaid at the end of The Deathly Hallows and to pledge their eternal love for each other.
It's bad enough that anyone attempts to write a scene like this when Rowling went to such great lengths to create a lovely, balanced, strife-ridden, subtle, often unspoken relationship between the two major characters. It's worse when it's someone of the evidently limited talents of the current playwright.
Perhaps the greatest sin of The Cursed Play is that it puts the lovely subtlety of J.K. Rowling's original novels to a slow, agonizing death.
I'm not sure what's going on with Rowling. For a long time, she seemed prepared to leave Harry Potter behind, to view the seven original novels as perfect and complete. She turned her attentions (and prodigious talents) to other projects, including the creditable series of detective novels she penned under the name Richard Galbraith.
Now, she can't seem to leave Potter alone. We've got a new movie, this new play and, from what I saw when I picked up my copy at my local big-box bookstore, a veritable gift shop full of new Harry Potter paraphernalia, cheap plastic tidbits that years ago Rowling delighted in decrying.
Because, having now read the "Special Rehearsal Edition Script" of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (Parts 1 and 2), I can tell you: it's a really bad play.
Worse still, it's bad Harry Potter.
I had high hopes for The Cursed Play, looking forward to seeing what J.K. Rowling, who (to my mind) is a brilliant, masterful writer of prose, would do with a Harry Potter script. Could she translate her remarkable gifts into this very different style of writing?
But this play was not written by Rowling: it was written by Jack Thorne, "based on an original new story by J.K. Rowling, John Tiffany & Jack Thorne", according to the new book's cover.
What exactly does that mean? It's clear that J.K. has endorsed The Cursed Play -- she promotes it every chance she gets -- but how much input did she really have in the its writing?
From the quality of the written script, I would say, "Not much".
The plot is as complicated and silly as they come. Albus makes friends with Scorpius, two loners who find each other as they try to survive their first year at Hogwarts, each struggling under the weight of his real or suspected lineage.
Albus hates his father (though we're never sure exactly why) and so, when he overhears Harry Potter refuse old Amos Diggory's request that he use a newly discovered Time Turner to go back to the Tri-Wizard Tournament and save Amos' son Cedric, Albus decides that he and Scorpius must steal the Time Turner, save Cedric and put his father forever in his place.
All kinds of mayhem ensues, including multiple incursions into the past, the creation of several alternate (and successively darker) timelines, extensive dream sequences, murder, deceit, and the inevitable return of Lord Voldemort.
Thorne manages to introduce or mention just about every character of any stature from the original seven Harry Potter novels, to revisit location after location from those books and to raise for discussion most of the major emotional themes Rowling wove so carefully into her original story.
It's like really bad fan fiction. Or like a rabid Potter fan wrote down every character, location and theme they could think of, threw the list at the playwright and said: "Write a play that mentions every one of these, no matter how long and convoluted it becomes." And Thorne seems to have accepted that challenge as ranking in importance above any need to structure the plot, for example.
Worse still, Thorne's dialogue is remarkably bland and banal. If he isn't copying directly (or at least, semi-directly, with whatever revisions he sees fit to make) from the books themselves, Thorne is typing out long-winded, white-bread dialogue the voice and diction of which changes little from character to character and which often has characters displaying remarkable, unbelievable levels of self-awareness.
Whereas Rowling managed to tailor her dialogue perfectly to her different characters, to create unique voices for each (using everything from word choice to the rhythm of their speech), Thorne uses a one-voice-fits-all kind of approach. I guess he figures he should leave it to the actors to give his dialogue personality. To some extent, that approach makes sense but it doesn't excuse the absolute lack of personality in the dialogue.
I can imagine that the stage production of the play is fantastic. The budget must be enormous to create underwater scenes, dream sequences, wand duels and all kinds of magical effects. Add to that a total of 75 scenes across four acts and a cast of more than 30 actors playing uncountable numbers of roles.
What really worries me, however, is that The Cursed Play does not even seem to me to be good Harry Potter.
For example, isn't it well established that no witch or wizard could even see the Potters' home in Godric's Hollow while James and Lily were still alive unless they had been told where it is by the Secret Keeper, on account of Dumbledore's powerful Fidelius Charm? So how do Scorpius and Albus look in its windows when they arrive to intercept Delphi?
And isn't it also well established that Polyjuice Potion takes months to brew? If so, then how do Scorpius, Albus and Delphi manage to get some for their highly derivative incursion into the Ministry? And why do they ever consider using it in Godric's Hollow?
And, although never clear, isn't it true that Harry's scar hurt because 1) he had a bit of Voldemort's soul inside him and 2) Voldemort was either nearby or really emotional? So how come Harry's scar hurts in this book when the bit of soul is gone and Voldemort is long dead and nowhere near?
And why does the transfiguration of Harry wear off?
Those are small questions. Even more problematic in my mind are the several scenes of dialogue in which characters attempt to address moral, philosophical or emotional questions left hanging in the original novels. Particularly egregious among these is that awful scene in Act Four, Scene Four where Harry and Dumbledore (through the former headmaster's portrait) manage to say all the things that were left unsaid at the end of The Deathly Hallows and to pledge their eternal love for each other.
It's bad enough that anyone attempts to write a scene like this when Rowling went to such great lengths to create a lovely, balanced, strife-ridden, subtle, often unspoken relationship between the two major characters. It's worse when it's someone of the evidently limited talents of the current playwright.
Perhaps the greatest sin of The Cursed Play is that it puts the lovely subtlety of J.K. Rowling's original novels to a slow, agonizing death.
I'm not sure what's going on with Rowling. For a long time, she seemed prepared to leave Harry Potter behind, to view the seven original novels as perfect and complete. She turned her attentions (and prodigious talents) to other projects, including the creditable series of detective novels she penned under the name Richard Galbraith.
Now, she can't seem to leave Potter alone. We've got a new movie, this new play and, from what I saw when I picked up my copy at my local big-box bookstore, a veritable gift shop full of new Harry Potter paraphernalia, cheap plastic tidbits that years ago Rowling delighted in decrying.
Tuesday, July 19, 2016
The year of behaving badly
I have written over and over again on the subject of how hard I find it to read The Order of the Phoenix. This is a gloomy, claustrophobic novel in which no one... and I mean no one... behaves well.
Of course, the antagonists -- Dolores Umbridge, Draco and Lucius Malfoy, Cornelius Fudge, even Percy Weasley, Voldemort -- are insufferable. That's to be expected.
But even the so-called "good guys" are not at their best.
Mundungus Fletcher leaves his post and permits Harry to be attacked by Dementors.
Sirius Black is childish and moody throughout most of the book. putting his own unhappiness ahead of the interests of his godson, Harry.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley treat the teenagers like toddlers and refuse to let them in on what's going on with the Order of the Phoenix. Further, they fail entirely to prepare Harry adequately for the trial at the Ministry.
Professor McGonagall seems oblivious to Harry's suffering while at Hogwarts, continually chastising him for letting Umbridge upset him rather than helping him, counseling him on why his suffering is necessary and how he can better endure it.
Professor Dumbledore's behaviour is inexplicably abhorrent. He literally abandons Harry in his hour of need and leaves Harry to suffer the horrors of Umbridge without any support whatsoever. Okay, Dumbledore worries that Voldemort will use the connection between his mind and Harry's to try to spy on Dumbledore so the Headmaster doesn't want to interact with Harry face to face... but why not send him a series of letters, explaining the concerns, outlining what's happening and guiding him as to how to proceed?
You would think that, through all this, Ron and Hermione at least would behave appropriately. But Ron spends the book caught up in his own Quidditch-inspired malaise while Hermione... well, Hermione is awe-inspiring in her insipidness.
Every time the young people get a chance to speak to an Order member and obtain much needed reassurance and guidance, Hermione loses focus completely and goes off on Elf-rights tangents. She knows Harry is desperate for counsel from Sirius and yet, when Harry's godfather appears one evening in the common room fire, Hermione makes the whole, time-limited interaction about how Sirius shouldn't be taking risks and how Sirius should be treating Kreacher better.
It doesn't seem to occur to her that Harry really really really needs to talk to his godfather.
Sirius' own petulant pouting during that conversation is also way over the top.
Hermione is at her worst in Umbridge's Defence Against the Dark Arts classes. While Harry must be faulted for his own inability to control his temper in the face of the obnoxious Ministry hag, Hermione is the one who set matches to gasoline by challenging Umbridge in not one but two consecutive classes.
What is she thinking? What can she possibly be thinking? Hermione is smart enough to understand that the only way she, Harry and the rest of the students can possibly survive Umbridge and the Minister's interference is to keep their heads down and stay quiet. Yet, she goes out of her way to create conflict and confrontation and then has the unmitigated gall to admonish Harry for getting caught up in the fire she herself has created.
There are times I wonder if J.K. Rowling went too far in this book, if she let the narratorial imperative of isolating and abusing Harry in the first half of the novel cause her to undermine the consistency of her carefully established central characters.
The fact of the matter is, Dumbledore is not the insensitive clod that he is portrayed as in The Order of the Phoenix; Hermione is smarter and more sensible than the character who appears in this book.
It is possible that, in her understandable campaign to put Harry into a terrible, lonely, vulnerable and suffering situation in his fifth year at Hogwarts, Rowling lost track of who her characters really are?
Of course, the antagonists -- Dolores Umbridge, Draco and Lucius Malfoy, Cornelius Fudge, even Percy Weasley, Voldemort -- are insufferable. That's to be expected.
But even the so-called "good guys" are not at their best.
Mundungus Fletcher leaves his post and permits Harry to be attacked by Dementors.
Sirius Black is childish and moody throughout most of the book. putting his own unhappiness ahead of the interests of his godson, Harry.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley treat the teenagers like toddlers and refuse to let them in on what's going on with the Order of the Phoenix. Further, they fail entirely to prepare Harry adequately for the trial at the Ministry.
Professor McGonagall seems oblivious to Harry's suffering while at Hogwarts, continually chastising him for letting Umbridge upset him rather than helping him, counseling him on why his suffering is necessary and how he can better endure it.
Professor Dumbledore's behaviour is inexplicably abhorrent. He literally abandons Harry in his hour of need and leaves Harry to suffer the horrors of Umbridge without any support whatsoever. Okay, Dumbledore worries that Voldemort will use the connection between his mind and Harry's to try to spy on Dumbledore so the Headmaster doesn't want to interact with Harry face to face... but why not send him a series of letters, explaining the concerns, outlining what's happening and guiding him as to how to proceed?
You would think that, through all this, Ron and Hermione at least would behave appropriately. But Ron spends the book caught up in his own Quidditch-inspired malaise while Hermione... well, Hermione is awe-inspiring in her insipidness.
Every time the young people get a chance to speak to an Order member and obtain much needed reassurance and guidance, Hermione loses focus completely and goes off on Elf-rights tangents. She knows Harry is desperate for counsel from Sirius and yet, when Harry's godfather appears one evening in the common room fire, Hermione makes the whole, time-limited interaction about how Sirius shouldn't be taking risks and how Sirius should be treating Kreacher better.
It doesn't seem to occur to her that Harry really really really needs to talk to his godfather.
Sirius' own petulant pouting during that conversation is also way over the top.
Hermione is at her worst in Umbridge's Defence Against the Dark Arts classes. While Harry must be faulted for his own inability to control his temper in the face of the obnoxious Ministry hag, Hermione is the one who set matches to gasoline by challenging Umbridge in not one but two consecutive classes.
What is she thinking? What can she possibly be thinking? Hermione is smart enough to understand that the only way she, Harry and the rest of the students can possibly survive Umbridge and the Minister's interference is to keep their heads down and stay quiet. Yet, she goes out of her way to create conflict and confrontation and then has the unmitigated gall to admonish Harry for getting caught up in the fire she herself has created.
There are times I wonder if J.K. Rowling went too far in this book, if she let the narratorial imperative of isolating and abusing Harry in the first half of the novel cause her to undermine the consistency of her carefully established central characters.
The fact of the matter is, Dumbledore is not the insensitive clod that he is portrayed as in The Order of the Phoenix; Hermione is smarter and more sensible than the character who appears in this book.
It is possible that, in her understandable campaign to put Harry into a terrible, lonely, vulnerable and suffering situation in his fifth year at Hogwarts, Rowling lost track of who her characters really are?
Thursday, July 7, 2016
Why does no one blame Harry for Cedric's death?
I hereby apologise to J.K. Rowling for all of the nitpicking in which I indulge in this blog. She has created a remarkably complex, fascinating and consistent world in the seven Harry Potter novels and, considering the intricacy of the many plots and subplots, she leaves surprisingly few holes for detail-oriented people with all the time in the world (like me) to exploit.
That being said, let me ask this:
1) if the official stand of the Ministry of Magic is that Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory were not transported to the graveyard, that Cedric Diggory was not murdered by Peter Pettigrew in that graveyard and that Voldemort did not return to full power at the end of The Goblet of Fire; and
2) if the Ministry wishes to discredit Harry Potter for claiming that Voldemort has, in fact, returned; and
3) if Cedric Diggory died at the end of Tri-Wizard Tournament when the only person, according to the Ministry's version of events, who was near or with him was Harry Potter;
WHY HASN'T THE MINISTRY BLAMED HARRY POTTER FOR CEDRIC DIGGORY'S DEATH?
Fleur Delacour had already been removed from the maze. Victor Krum had been stunned and was out of action. It would seem an easy thing for the Ministry to lay the blame for Cedric's death at the feet of Harry, the only other person then inside the maze.
Even if they didn't want to charge him with murder (and face the possibility of being forced to admit they could not prove the charge), at least they could use the power of the press and the power of public opinion to suggest that he was in some way to blame. And to suggest that Harry's insistence that Voldemort has returned is simply an attempt to throw the blame for Cedric's death elsewhere.
I don't recall a single moment in the fifth, sixth or seventh books when anyone (friend, foe or Death Eater) even implies that Harry might be responsible for the death of Cedric Diggory. I wonder why.
That being said, let me ask this:
1) if the official stand of the Ministry of Magic is that Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory were not transported to the graveyard, that Cedric Diggory was not murdered by Peter Pettigrew in that graveyard and that Voldemort did not return to full power at the end of The Goblet of Fire; and
2) if the Ministry wishes to discredit Harry Potter for claiming that Voldemort has, in fact, returned; and
3) if Cedric Diggory died at the end of Tri-Wizard Tournament when the only person, according to the Ministry's version of events, who was near or with him was Harry Potter;
WHY HASN'T THE MINISTRY BLAMED HARRY POTTER FOR CEDRIC DIGGORY'S DEATH?
Fleur Delacour had already been removed from the maze. Victor Krum had been stunned and was out of action. It would seem an easy thing for the Ministry to lay the blame for Cedric's death at the feet of Harry, the only other person then inside the maze.
Even if they didn't want to charge him with murder (and face the possibility of being forced to admit they could not prove the charge), at least they could use the power of the press and the power of public opinion to suggest that he was in some way to blame. And to suggest that Harry's insistence that Voldemort has returned is simply an attempt to throw the blame for Cedric's death elsewhere.
I don't recall a single moment in the fifth, sixth or seventh books when anyone (friend, foe or Death Eater) even implies that Harry might be responsible for the death of Cedric Diggory. I wonder why.
Saturday, July 2, 2016
The imperfect choice for Prefect
Help me figure something out. I'm re-reading The Order of the Phoenix and I've just come to the part where Ron and Hermione receive their Prefect badges from Hogwarts.
A big deal is made about the fact that Harry was not chosen instead of Ron -- everyone thought he would be -- and, if I recall correctly, Dumbledore will eventually explain to Harry, at the end of the book, that he didn't want to put any more pressure on our hero than he was already facing.
Good enough.
But tell me why Dumbledore would name Draco Malfoy a prefect for Slytherin. The headmaster is well aware that Draco's dad is a confirmed Death Eater. He knows that Draco is Harry's nemesis and that, with the powers of a Prefect, Draco would have a great deal more power to bother, upset and harass Harry throughout the year.
So why, if Dumbledore is worried about putting too much additional pressure on Harry, does he name Draco a Prefect? Why not someone else? Even Crabbe or Goyle would be a better choice, since they are too stupid to be really harmful to Harry. Even if Draco is telling them what to do, their thickness would provide something of a buffer and the fact that Dumbledore refused to recognize Draco as a Prefect should make Harry feel a little bit better about being passed over.
The only think I can think of is that the Ministry intervened in these choices as well. Maybe Lucius paid Fudge to force Dumbledore to name Draco as Prefect. We see Draco's dad and the Minister of Magic together at the start of the book -- perhaps that's when the demand was made and granted.
I simply cannot believe Dumbledore would make this choice on his own.
A big deal is made about the fact that Harry was not chosen instead of Ron -- everyone thought he would be -- and, if I recall correctly, Dumbledore will eventually explain to Harry, at the end of the book, that he didn't want to put any more pressure on our hero than he was already facing.
Good enough.
But tell me why Dumbledore would name Draco Malfoy a prefect for Slytherin. The headmaster is well aware that Draco's dad is a confirmed Death Eater. He knows that Draco is Harry's nemesis and that, with the powers of a Prefect, Draco would have a great deal more power to bother, upset and harass Harry throughout the year.
So why, if Dumbledore is worried about putting too much additional pressure on Harry, does he name Draco a Prefect? Why not someone else? Even Crabbe or Goyle would be a better choice, since they are too stupid to be really harmful to Harry. Even if Draco is telling them what to do, their thickness would provide something of a buffer and the fact that Dumbledore refused to recognize Draco as a Prefect should make Harry feel a little bit better about being passed over.
The only think I can think of is that the Ministry intervened in these choices as well. Maybe Lucius paid Fudge to force Dumbledore to name Draco as Prefect. We see Draco's dad and the Minister of Magic together at the start of the book -- perhaps that's when the demand was made and granted.
I simply cannot believe Dumbledore would make this choice on his own.
Friday, June 10, 2016
Umbridge a Death Eater?
This will show you how really attentive a reader I am -- I just realized, as I re-read the first chapter of The Order of the Phoenix for the 20-somethingth time, that Dolores Umbridge sent the Dementors to Little Whinging to kill Harry Potter on that hot summer night.
She wasn't playing around. She took it upon herself, without any consultation with Cornelius Fudge or anyone else, to send the most heinous of magical creatures into Surrey to kill an innocent 15-year-old boy who had committed no crime but witness the rebirth of the Dark Lord and return to tell about it.
Woweee.
I mean, these Dementors meant business. They arrived, attacked and were ready to perform the Kiss on Dudley, an even more innocent bystander in all this, without wasting any time at all.
We only learn at the end of the novel that it was Umbridge who, on her own initiative, sent them to attack Harry but, in retrospect, this action says a great deal about this delightful lady.
She could not have known that Harry was so capable with the old Patronus Charm. We can't give her the benefit of the doubt by arguing that she sent the Dementors to force Harry to perform magic so that the Ministry would then have some grounds to snap his wand and expel him from Hogwarts.
She was trying to kill him.
Why? For upsetting Fudge? For making him look bad?
Is it possible that Umbridge is actually a Death Eater who is simply never identified as such? That she is acting on the Dark Lord's orders, trying to kill the Boy Who Lived after Voldemort failed to do so in the graveyard?
If she isn't a Death Eater, Doesn't her decision to try to have the Dementors kill Harry seem like a bit of an over-reaction under the circumstances? To kill Harry just because he represents the only real evidence available that Voldemort has returned?
She wasn't playing around. She took it upon herself, without any consultation with Cornelius Fudge or anyone else, to send the most heinous of magical creatures into Surrey to kill an innocent 15-year-old boy who had committed no crime but witness the rebirth of the Dark Lord and return to tell about it.
Woweee.
I mean, these Dementors meant business. They arrived, attacked and were ready to perform the Kiss on Dudley, an even more innocent bystander in all this, without wasting any time at all.
We only learn at the end of the novel that it was Umbridge who, on her own initiative, sent them to attack Harry but, in retrospect, this action says a great deal about this delightful lady.
She could not have known that Harry was so capable with the old Patronus Charm. We can't give her the benefit of the doubt by arguing that she sent the Dementors to force Harry to perform magic so that the Ministry would then have some grounds to snap his wand and expel him from Hogwarts.
She was trying to kill him.
Why? For upsetting Fudge? For making him look bad?
Is it possible that Umbridge is actually a Death Eater who is simply never identified as such? That she is acting on the Dark Lord's orders, trying to kill the Boy Who Lived after Voldemort failed to do so in the graveyard?
If she isn't a Death Eater, Doesn't her decision to try to have the Dementors kill Harry seem like a bit of an over-reaction under the circumstances? To kill Harry just because he represents the only real evidence available that Voldemort has returned?
Tuesday, June 7, 2016
Casting aspersions -- Race and the Cursed Child
Some people on social media don't seem to like the idea of a black Hermione.
As you are no doubt aware, when J.K. Rowling's new post-Voldemort play, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, debuts in London's west end this summer, it will feature respected actress Noma Dumezweni in the role of the adult Hermione Granger.
The uproar is because of the colour of Ms. Dumezweni's skin. They have taken to social media to express their outrage that a black actress has been cast in the role. Hermione, the complainers state, is white -- she is described as white in the books, she's portrayed as white in the films, that means she's white.
As "proof", they point out that, in one scene in the books at least, Hermione's face is described as having "turned white" in response to a shock, which they feel is definitive proof that the character is written as being white.
Rowling rebuts the assertion that the Hermione of her canonical novels is described as white by pointing out that physical descriptions of the character in the books lend themselves to any number of racial makeups, not just white. Further, she points out that she never once states categorically that Hermione, or any other character for that matter, is Caucasian.
If I recall correctly, some segments of social media were also outraged when actress Willow Smith, an African-American, was cast as the character Rue, an angelic and highly sympathetic young girl, in the first Hunger Games movie.
The whole argument makes me very sad, both that people out there have to get up in arms about these casting decisions and that Rowling herself feels the need to wade in to take them on.
I wish I could believe that the people who protest having Noma Dumezweni in the role of the adult Hermione or Willow Smith in the role of Rue were expressing their outrage because they are genuinely concerned with the sanctity of canon, genuinely interested in ensuring that the new versions stayed true to the original books.
After all, I myself get hung up sometimes in how the stories I love are changed, and not often for the better, when they are adapted to the movie media. It's never on the issue of the race of the actors cast, mind you, but still, I do resent when film adaptations make changes to the original simply for the sake of change.
But it's not loyalty that I see here. After all, I didn't see the same uproar when the filmmakers made hundreds, nay thousands of changes to the original Harry Potter books in making their eight movies. We didn't see protests about how Neville was changed, or what happened with Luna, or Snape or Dumbledore or... Well, you get the picture.
What seems to me to be going on here is, as Rowling recently said, racism pure and simple.
The issue does not seem to be that a character who was, whether legitimately or not, thought to be white in the original book is portrayed by a black actor/actress. The issue seems to me to be that a beloved, noble, admirable, sympathetic, leading character who was, whether legitimately or not, thought to be white in the original book is portrayed by a black actor/actress.
Further, I wonder if the mere fact that the character in question was a beloved, noble, admirable, sympathetic, leading character didn't actually influence these readers into believing, despite significant evidence to the contrary (in the case of Rue) or no real evidence either way (in the case of Hermione), that the character was written originally as white.
In other words, if we love the character, she must be white. If we find her noble, admirable or sympathetic, she can't be black.
Others have presented this question even more starkly, suggesting that the people complaining about the casting of Rue as an African-American were thinking: "I cried when this character died -- I would never cry at the death of a black character, therefore she cannot be black."
It gets scary, doesn't it?
The racism seems to be so deeply ingrained that at least some of the people complaining about the black Hermione might not even recognize the racist roots of their feelings.
I don't really have any hope of seeing Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, with Noma Dumezweni in the role of the adult Hermione, but I really wish I could. I expect the play to have a fantastic run in London's west end and I hope to see it mounted, with diverse actors, in Canada soon.
As you are no doubt aware, when J.K. Rowling's new post-Voldemort play, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, debuts in London's west end this summer, it will feature respected actress Noma Dumezweni in the role of the adult Hermione Granger.
The uproar is because of the colour of Ms. Dumezweni's skin. They have taken to social media to express their outrage that a black actress has been cast in the role. Hermione, the complainers state, is white -- she is described as white in the books, she's portrayed as white in the films, that means she's white.
As "proof", they point out that, in one scene in the books at least, Hermione's face is described as having "turned white" in response to a shock, which they feel is definitive proof that the character is written as being white.
Rowling rebuts the assertion that the Hermione of her canonical novels is described as white by pointing out that physical descriptions of the character in the books lend themselves to any number of racial makeups, not just white. Further, she points out that she never once states categorically that Hermione, or any other character for that matter, is Caucasian.
If I recall correctly, some segments of social media were also outraged when actress Willow Smith, an African-American, was cast as the character Rue, an angelic and highly sympathetic young girl, in the first Hunger Games movie.
The whole argument makes me very sad, both that people out there have to get up in arms about these casting decisions and that Rowling herself feels the need to wade in to take them on.
I wish I could believe that the people who protest having Noma Dumezweni in the role of the adult Hermione or Willow Smith in the role of Rue were expressing their outrage because they are genuinely concerned with the sanctity of canon, genuinely interested in ensuring that the new versions stayed true to the original books.
After all, I myself get hung up sometimes in how the stories I love are changed, and not often for the better, when they are adapted to the movie media. It's never on the issue of the race of the actors cast, mind you, but still, I do resent when film adaptations make changes to the original simply for the sake of change.
But it's not loyalty that I see here. After all, I didn't see the same uproar when the filmmakers made hundreds, nay thousands of changes to the original Harry Potter books in making their eight movies. We didn't see protests about how Neville was changed, or what happened with Luna, or Snape or Dumbledore or... Well, you get the picture.
What seems to me to be going on here is, as Rowling recently said, racism pure and simple.
The issue does not seem to be that a character who was, whether legitimately or not, thought to be white in the original book is portrayed by a black actor/actress. The issue seems to me to be that a beloved, noble, admirable, sympathetic, leading character who was, whether legitimately or not, thought to be white in the original book is portrayed by a black actor/actress.
Further, I wonder if the mere fact that the character in question was a beloved, noble, admirable, sympathetic, leading character didn't actually influence these readers into believing, despite significant evidence to the contrary (in the case of Rue) or no real evidence either way (in the case of Hermione), that the character was written originally as white.
In other words, if we love the character, she must be white. If we find her noble, admirable or sympathetic, she can't be black.
Others have presented this question even more starkly, suggesting that the people complaining about the casting of Rue as an African-American were thinking: "I cried when this character died -- I would never cry at the death of a black character, therefore she cannot be black."
It gets scary, doesn't it?
The racism seems to be so deeply ingrained that at least some of the people complaining about the black Hermione might not even recognize the racist roots of their feelings.
I don't really have any hope of seeing Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, with Noma Dumezweni in the role of the adult Hermione, but I really wish I could. I expect the play to have a fantastic run in London's west end and I hope to see it mounted, with diverse actors, in Canada soon.
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