There is something that has always bothered my about one of the key scenes in The Half-Blood Prince.
As you will no doubt recall, in the later stages of the novel, Harry sees on the Marauders Map that Malfoy is in a boys bathroom with Moaning Myrtle. Harry enters the bathroom and finds Malfoy leaning over a sink, crying, while Myrtle attempts to soothe him.
Harry takes no action, other than to stand looking at Malfoy. Malfoy pulls himself together and looks up into the mirror. He sees Harry standing behind him, draws his wand and casts a spell at Harry. That spell misses and a duel ensues.
The two are well-matched (surprisingly so, considering Harry's experience and training, but I wrote about that in an earlier post). After several shots back and forth, Malfoy attempts to cast the Cruciatus curse on Harry but Harry is a shade quicker, hitting Malfoy with the mysterious Sectum Sempra spell that he found in his potions text.
Malfoy collapses to the floor, bleeding profusely and dropping his wand. The duel is over. Harry takes no further offensive action but merely stands by as Myrtle screams and Snape thunders into the room to render aid to the bleeding Malfoy.
From what I can tell, Harry did nothing wrong. He walked into a public bathroom. He watched a schoolmate cry. He responded to an attack by that schoolmate. He avoided being tortured by that schoolmate (who was attempting to use an Unforgiveable Curse on him). He took effective action to render his attacker incapable of continuing the attack, without actually killing his attacker. He took no further aggressive steps once his attacker was incapacitated.
Where is the crime? Why is he punished? Why is he subjected to such significant vilification from Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall and even Hermione?
Malfoy cast the first spell and started the duel with no more provocation than that Harry happened to be standing there watching him cry. Malfoy escalated the duel by attempting to cast an Unforgiveable Curse. Harry defended himself once attacked and stopped once he had rendered his attacker incapable of continuing to attack.
Malfoy was forgiven for attacking Harry and forgiven for casting an Unforgiveable Curse.
Harry was found guilty of defending himself effectively from an unprovoked, serious, perhaps deadly attack.
Okay, I can understand that Snape, who hates Harry immensely for a variety of perhaps understandable reasons, might see this an opportunity to get at Harry. Fine.
But McGonagall? Once she heard Harry's story and interviewed Myrtle, wouldn't she intervene in support of Harry? Wouldn't she demand that Malfoy, once recovered, be punished (and likely expelled) for launching an unprovoked attack on a schoolmate and for attempting to hit that schoolmate with an Unforgiveable Curse?
And Hermione? Sure, she doesn't like the Half-Blood Prince's book. And sure, she quite properly chastises Harry for using an untried curse on someone like this. But why does she so thoroughly condemn Harry for his actions?
From a narrative perspective, on the other hand, I can understand this scene and its outcome. It provides action in the middle of a fairly static plot. It permits the duel between Malfoy and Potter that we have been hoping for since book one. It creates a reason for Harry to be forced to miss the final Quidditch match and sets up the climax of the Harry-Ginny romantic build up.
And, of course, if Malfoy were punished or expelled at this point, the climax of the entire novel would be impossible -- with Malfoy kicked out of school, there would be no way for Dumbledore to be trapped by Death Eaters on the top of the tower that fateful night.
So I see the value in the duel and Harry's punishment to Rowling as a writer but... the outcome of the duel still does not make any sense in the world of the novels.
Rowling would likely have been better to have the duel start less decisively -- Malfoy and Harry square off, trade words, then begin to duel together. And she should never have had Malfoy attempt an Unforgiveable Curse. It doesn't have much impact in the course of the action scene, it is unsuccessful and it creates the problem of Malfoy getting away with attempting to cast it.
Then, Harry could legitimately face punishment for using a curse without knowing what it did and, perhaps, for responding to Malfoy's less nasty attack with a ferocious spell that endangered the life of a schoolmate.
These are not major changes I am suggesting but I think they would make the outcome make much more sense and not seem so contrived.
Showing posts with label Quidditch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Quidditch. Show all posts
Thursday, May 31, 2018
Monday, February 29, 2016
If it's French in the original English, how does it translate?
I am reading and enjoying the French translations of the Harry Potter novels, published by Folio Junior. Through this experience, I am seeing the Potter stories in a new light, improving on my French comprehension and learning a thing or two about the practice of translating literature from one language into another.
Translator Jean-Francois Ménard seems, to my untrained eye, to have done a wonderful job translating Rowling's prose, remaining true to her intent but exercising enough creative/translator's license to ensure that the writing is as lively, accurate and interesting in French as it is in the original English.
After all, sometimes a literal translation just doesn't work. Especially with language as idiomatic as that used by J.K. in these books.
As I started the fourth novel, Harry Potter et la Coupe de Feu, I was quite interested to see how Ménard would deal in his translation with the fact that the English-speaking main characters encounter and interact with French-speaking people from Beauxbatons.
The first encounter between English and French speakers in Rowling's fourth book takes place in the wooded area that offers refuge for Quidditch World Cup fans who want to get away from the frightening march of the masked Death Eaters through the camp ground.
Harry, Hermione and Ron have encountered Draco Malfoy and are just starting to search for the rest of the Weasley kids when they hear a group of young people speaking loudly to each other.
This group is, of course, made up of Beauxbatons students, who are frightened and looking for Madame Maxime,their head master.
In the original English novel, Harry and his pals speak English, the Beauxbatons students speak French, and no one understands each other so they just move on.
But in the French translation, everybody speaks French. Yet, the two groups still don't seem to understand each other and so they just move on. When a French reader reads an English book in translation that involves French characters, does she keep in mind the fact that two different languages are at play, even though everyone is speaking French?
I have to admit, this has gotten me all turned around inside my head.
When I read a French novel in translation (into English), what language do English speaking characters speak in the English translation?
It's a strange moment. One of the French students says something to Ron, he says "Pardon" and the French student says, "Il ne comprend rien, celui la." ("He doesn't understand anything, that one there") As the French students move off, the English students hear clearly a mention of "Potdelard", which of course is a mispronunciation of the French version of the name of the English school of witchcraft and wizardry -- Poudlard.
In some ways, the translation is wonderfully written with fun plays on the language. For example, Ron says "Pardon", which means the same thing in French and in English, only the pronunciation is different.
As a native English speaker, I heard in my head Ron say "Pardon" in English, to remind me that there is a language barrier here. But would a native French speaker read this, hear Ron pronounce "Pardon" in the French manner, and get confused as to why Ron and the Beauxbaton student cannot communicate?
Would a native French speaker think that the Beauxbaton student is implying that Ron is not smart enough to understand her, or has a development disability of some kind, since both characters were speaking the same language prior to this exchange?
And I wonder if I read "Potdelard" differently than would a native French speaker. I read it immediately as pot (rhyming with "hot") -de-lard. Would a French speaker read it is Poh (rhyming with the French word "mot") -de-lard?
I am very interested to read how Ménard approaches these questions as the story goes along. How will he deal with the heavily accented English that characters like Madame Maxime and Fleur Delacour employ in J.K.'s prose? Will they speak an accented version of French?
Another interesting note on the translation of this scene: in the original English, Rowling merely mentions that Harry and the gang notice a group of young people talking in loud voices nearby.
Ménard, the translator, actually inserts some extra dialogue to capture what the Beauxbatons students were saying. "Enfin, c'est incroyable!" the one French student says. "Qu'est-ce que c'est que cette organization?" (I'm no translators but I read that as, "Finally, it is incredible. What is this organization?")
These quoted lines, in which the Beauxbaton student appears to be critical of the security at the World Cup, do not appear in the original Rowling novel. Ménard has invented them for the purposes of his translation.
I will have to watch for more such creative indulgences in this book!
Translator Jean-Francois Ménard seems, to my untrained eye, to have done a wonderful job translating Rowling's prose, remaining true to her intent but exercising enough creative/translator's license to ensure that the writing is as lively, accurate and interesting in French as it is in the original English.
After all, sometimes a literal translation just doesn't work. Especially with language as idiomatic as that used by J.K. in these books.
As I started the fourth novel, Harry Potter et la Coupe de Feu, I was quite interested to see how Ménard would deal in his translation with the fact that the English-speaking main characters encounter and interact with French-speaking people from Beauxbatons.
The first encounter between English and French speakers in Rowling's fourth book takes place in the wooded area that offers refuge for Quidditch World Cup fans who want to get away from the frightening march of the masked Death Eaters through the camp ground.
Harry, Hermione and Ron have encountered Draco Malfoy and are just starting to search for the rest of the Weasley kids when they hear a group of young people speaking loudly to each other.
This group is, of course, made up of Beauxbatons students, who are frightened and looking for Madame Maxime,their head master.
In the original English novel, Harry and his pals speak English, the Beauxbatons students speak French, and no one understands each other so they just move on.
But in the French translation, everybody speaks French. Yet, the two groups still don't seem to understand each other and so they just move on. When a French reader reads an English book in translation that involves French characters, does she keep in mind the fact that two different languages are at play, even though everyone is speaking French?
I have to admit, this has gotten me all turned around inside my head.
When I read a French novel in translation (into English), what language do English speaking characters speak in the English translation?
It's a strange moment. One of the French students says something to Ron, he says "Pardon" and the French student says, "Il ne comprend rien, celui la." ("He doesn't understand anything, that one there") As the French students move off, the English students hear clearly a mention of "Potdelard", which of course is a mispronunciation of the French version of the name of the English school of witchcraft and wizardry -- Poudlard.
In some ways, the translation is wonderfully written with fun plays on the language. For example, Ron says "Pardon", which means the same thing in French and in English, only the pronunciation is different.
As a native English speaker, I heard in my head Ron say "Pardon" in English, to remind me that there is a language barrier here. But would a native French speaker read this, hear Ron pronounce "Pardon" in the French manner, and get confused as to why Ron and the Beauxbaton student cannot communicate?
Would a native French speaker think that the Beauxbaton student is implying that Ron is not smart enough to understand her, or has a development disability of some kind, since both characters were speaking the same language prior to this exchange?
And I wonder if I read "Potdelard" differently than would a native French speaker. I read it immediately as pot (rhyming with "hot") -de-lard. Would a French speaker read it is Poh (rhyming with the French word "mot") -de-lard?
I am very interested to read how Ménard approaches these questions as the story goes along. How will he deal with the heavily accented English that characters like Madame Maxime and Fleur Delacour employ in J.K.'s prose? Will they speak an accented version of French?
Another interesting note on the translation of this scene: in the original English, Rowling merely mentions that Harry and the gang notice a group of young people talking in loud voices nearby.
Ménard, the translator, actually inserts some extra dialogue to capture what the Beauxbatons students were saying. "Enfin, c'est incroyable!" the one French student says. "Qu'est-ce que c'est que cette organization?" (I'm no translators but I read that as, "Finally, it is incredible. What is this organization?")
These quoted lines, in which the Beauxbaton student appears to be critical of the security at the World Cup, do not appear in the original Rowling novel. Ménard has invented them for the purposes of his translation.
I will have to watch for more such creative indulgences in this book!
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
Explanations and Rowling's writing prowess
I have been re-reading the first Harry Potter novel in French. As I think I've mentioned on several occasions in the past, I have found that reading the books in French or listening to them in their audiobook format really helps me notice things that I miss when I read them in English.
Well, it's happened again.
As I read the confrontation between Harry and Quirrell/Voldemort at the climax of Harry Potter a l'ecole des sorciers, I was struck by how expertly J.K. Rowling handles a common problem faced by writers of mysteries and thrillers: how do you provide the reader with greatly needed background information and explanations as to certain plot points while keeping the action moving and suspense building?
The challenge is all too common. As an author, you lead your reader through a complex, fast-paced plot, filled with twists and turns, and then you arrive at the moment of discovery, the instant where all things hidden come to light. How do you explain to your reader how the resolution fits in with all of the various twists and turns from earlier in the novel without losing the sense of urgency required to carry the novel to its completion?
And, in some cases, how do you make it realistic that the villain, now discovered, will be willing to divulge all this information to the protagonist?
Anyone who has read mysteries and thrillers, or who has even watched these genres on television, has probably experienced dozens of examples where this explanation challenge defeats the writer. How many times have you encountered a climactic scene where the hero says something like, "But, how did you...?" and the villain says, "Well, since you are about to die, I'll tell you..." or "Since I am now caught and have nothing to lose, I'll explain everything to you."
If you watch "Foyle's War" at all, you've seen numerous episodes that end with the bad guy willingly explaining to our favourite Deputy Chief Superintendent what he did and how he did it, once it's clear that he has been caught. It's one of the few true flaws in what is otherwise an excellent and entertaining show. The writers got lazy.
In other cases, the writer simply has the hero explain everything to a minor character in the denouement:
Watson: "But Holmes, I don't understand how Moriarity managed to accomplish this!"
Holmes: "Elementary, my dear Watson. He bought a ticket on the 8 o'clock train but stowed away on the 7 o'clock train so that he could arrive an hour earlier and commit the crime at 7:30, with his alibi tucked safely in his pocket."
Watson: "But that doesn't explain how he got his hands on the poor victim's letter opener!"
Holmes: "I think you'll find that there were two identical letter openers at play here..."
Etc. etc.
In simple terms, it is a key component of mysteries and thrillers that things happen throughout the plot that go unexplained but either provide clues to the identity of the villain or serve to obscure his identity. In order for the story to be satisfying to the reader/viewer, these unexplained things must finally be explained in a manner that supports the resolution of the mystery.
Yes, that's a very long lead up to what I want to say about Jo and her first novel. Sorry. But I did enjoy writing it, to be honest.
What I find so impressive about Rowling is the fact that, in her very first novel, she found an interesting and exciting way to explain the unexplained that actually serves to heighten rather than undermine the tension of the climactic scene.
How does she do it?
By making the explanations a part of the suspense. Harry is trapped in the room with Quirrell/Voldemort and the Mirror of Erised, desperate to keep Q/V distracted so that they cannot find the Philosopher's Stone before help arrives to save the day. So Harry asks for explanations. He asks point for point about every key event in the story about which he (and the reader) needs more information.
Isn't it Snape who is trying to get the Stone? Why did Snape try to kill me in the Quidditch match? Why did Snape want to referee the second match? Who let in the troll at Hallowe'en? Why was Snape on the third floor rather than helping to deal with the troll? Why was Snape threatening you in the forest? Weren't you talking to Snape in the classroom when you finally gave in?
And he got his answers. Delivered by a Q/V in an offhand way as he tried to figure out how to get the Stone out of the Mirror.
We, the reader, were caught up in the suspense and fully engaged with Harry in his attempt to keep Q/V from working out how to get the Stone. The questions and answers not only did not undermine the tension of the scene: they were actually part of the build up of suspense.
Brilliant.
I have often said that book seven is my favourite of the Harry Potter novels, with book three close behind.
But, when I think about which book is the greatest accomplishment for Rowling as a writer, I have to say it must be Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Despite the fact that it represents the first novel she ever wrote, it is a virtual masterpiece of writing. In it, she handles with seeming ease challenges that have defeated much more experienced writers.
Including the problem of providing explanations without undermining suspense.
Well, it's happened again.
As I read the confrontation between Harry and Quirrell/Voldemort at the climax of Harry Potter a l'ecole des sorciers, I was struck by how expertly J.K. Rowling handles a common problem faced by writers of mysteries and thrillers: how do you provide the reader with greatly needed background information and explanations as to certain plot points while keeping the action moving and suspense building?
The challenge is all too common. As an author, you lead your reader through a complex, fast-paced plot, filled with twists and turns, and then you arrive at the moment of discovery, the instant where all things hidden come to light. How do you explain to your reader how the resolution fits in with all of the various twists and turns from earlier in the novel without losing the sense of urgency required to carry the novel to its completion?
And, in some cases, how do you make it realistic that the villain, now discovered, will be willing to divulge all this information to the protagonist?
Anyone who has read mysteries and thrillers, or who has even watched these genres on television, has probably experienced dozens of examples where this explanation challenge defeats the writer. How many times have you encountered a climactic scene where the hero says something like, "But, how did you...?" and the villain says, "Well, since you are about to die, I'll tell you..." or "Since I am now caught and have nothing to lose, I'll explain everything to you."
If you watch "Foyle's War" at all, you've seen numerous episodes that end with the bad guy willingly explaining to our favourite Deputy Chief Superintendent what he did and how he did it, once it's clear that he has been caught. It's one of the few true flaws in what is otherwise an excellent and entertaining show. The writers got lazy.
In other cases, the writer simply has the hero explain everything to a minor character in the denouement:
Watson: "But Holmes, I don't understand how Moriarity managed to accomplish this!"
Holmes: "Elementary, my dear Watson. He bought a ticket on the 8 o'clock train but stowed away on the 7 o'clock train so that he could arrive an hour earlier and commit the crime at 7:30, with his alibi tucked safely in his pocket."
Watson: "But that doesn't explain how he got his hands on the poor victim's letter opener!"
Holmes: "I think you'll find that there were two identical letter openers at play here..."
Etc. etc.
In simple terms, it is a key component of mysteries and thrillers that things happen throughout the plot that go unexplained but either provide clues to the identity of the villain or serve to obscure his identity. In order for the story to be satisfying to the reader/viewer, these unexplained things must finally be explained in a manner that supports the resolution of the mystery.
Yes, that's a very long lead up to what I want to say about Jo and her first novel. Sorry. But I did enjoy writing it, to be honest.
What I find so impressive about Rowling is the fact that, in her very first novel, she found an interesting and exciting way to explain the unexplained that actually serves to heighten rather than undermine the tension of the climactic scene.
How does she do it?
By making the explanations a part of the suspense. Harry is trapped in the room with Quirrell/Voldemort and the Mirror of Erised, desperate to keep Q/V distracted so that they cannot find the Philosopher's Stone before help arrives to save the day. So Harry asks for explanations. He asks point for point about every key event in the story about which he (and the reader) needs more information.
Isn't it Snape who is trying to get the Stone? Why did Snape try to kill me in the Quidditch match? Why did Snape want to referee the second match? Who let in the troll at Hallowe'en? Why was Snape on the third floor rather than helping to deal with the troll? Why was Snape threatening you in the forest? Weren't you talking to Snape in the classroom when you finally gave in?
And he got his answers. Delivered by a Q/V in an offhand way as he tried to figure out how to get the Stone out of the Mirror.
We, the reader, were caught up in the suspense and fully engaged with Harry in his attempt to keep Q/V from working out how to get the Stone. The questions and answers not only did not undermine the tension of the scene: they were actually part of the build up of suspense.
Brilliant.
I have often said that book seven is my favourite of the Harry Potter novels, with book three close behind.
But, when I think about which book is the greatest accomplishment for Rowling as a writer, I have to say it must be Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Despite the fact that it represents the first novel she ever wrote, it is a virtual masterpiece of writing. In it, she handles with seeming ease challenges that have defeated much more experienced writers.
Including the problem of providing explanations without undermining suspense.
Monday, July 14, 2014
Something Wiki this way comes...
Wow, the people who update the Harry Potter Wiki site are fast, aren't they? No sooner does J.K. publish the Rita Skeeter article about the Quidditch World Cup and someone has already updated the Wiki entry for Hannah Abbott to include the details related to "Hannah" included in the Skeeter piece.
But are they right to do so? The citation for the information added to the Hannah Abbott Wiki entry is the Skeeter piece, according to the site, but I have to figure there is more than one Hannah in the magical community. And Skeeter omits any reference to the birth name of "Hannah" in her article.
So how can they be so sure that Neville Longbottom, in fact, married Hannah Abbott, rather than some other Hannah (Smith, Jones, Leduc, Jeudesor)?
And why do the entry editors assume that whatever Hannah Neville married would take his last name in place of her own? They refer to her as "Hannah Longbottom (nee Abbott)" in the entry. Why make that assumption?
And why do they describe her as the "landlady of the Leaky Cauldron" in the Wiki entry? The Skeeter article merely says that Neville and Hannah "lived above the Leaky Cauldron"; it makes no mention of her having been the landlady (and, therefore, owner) of the pub.
Don't get me wrong. I think the Harry Potter Wiki is an amazing resource and I respect the work that went into creating (and still goes into maintaining and updating) it.
But this update of Hannah Abbott's entry causes me some concern about the accuracy of all of the other entries as well.
I shall have to take the information included on the Wiki with a grain of salt from now on, won't I?
On the other hand, when I read in the Skeeter article that Neville had married a woman named Hannah, I too immediately thought of Ms. Abbott. But the Skeeter article certainly falls far short of confirming that the Neville's partner is indeed Hannah Abbott.
But are they right to do so? The citation for the information added to the Hannah Abbott Wiki entry is the Skeeter piece, according to the site, but I have to figure there is more than one Hannah in the magical community. And Skeeter omits any reference to the birth name of "Hannah" in her article.
So how can they be so sure that Neville Longbottom, in fact, married Hannah Abbott, rather than some other Hannah (Smith, Jones, Leduc, Jeudesor)?
And why do the entry editors assume that whatever Hannah Neville married would take his last name in place of her own? They refer to her as "Hannah Longbottom (nee Abbott)" in the entry. Why make that assumption?
And why do they describe her as the "landlady of the Leaky Cauldron" in the Wiki entry? The Skeeter article merely says that Neville and Hannah "lived above the Leaky Cauldron"; it makes no mention of her having been the landlady (and, therefore, owner) of the pub.
Don't get me wrong. I think the Harry Potter Wiki is an amazing resource and I respect the work that went into creating (and still goes into maintaining and updating) it.
But this update of Hannah Abbott's entry causes me some concern about the accuracy of all of the other entries as well.
I shall have to take the information included on the Wiki with a grain of salt from now on, won't I?
On the other hand, when I read in the Skeeter article that Neville had married a woman named Hannah, I too immediately thought of Ms. Abbott. But the Skeeter article certainly falls far short of confirming that the Neville's partner is indeed Hannah Abbott.
Monday, May 19, 2014
A brutal, brutal experience
I'm in the middle of reading The Order of the Phoenix. I find this one of the most difficult books to read that I have ever encountered.
J.K. had gotten us well-hooked by the time she wrote this, the fifth book in the series, and we have learned to care very deeply for her characters, especially Harry, Hermione and Ron.
So it's really tough to read a book where Harry in particular is so battered and abused, so isolated and alone, as this one. And J.K. pulls no punches. Not only does Harry suffer so badly in The Order of the Phoenix, she also makes sure he is very well aware of the unfairness of it all.
In North American football, we'd call it "piling on".
First, there are the Dursleys. Not only is Harry stuck in Little Whinging, alone with the a family of the worst kind of Muggles, he is also completely isolated from a wizarding world that he knows must be changing as a result of the return of Lord Voldemort.
And yet, for some reason, no one from that wizarding world is bothering to contact Harry or keep him informed.
Then come the Dementors, the revelation that Dumbledore has arranged to have Harry watched (without telling Harry about it), Harry's expulsion from and later re-instatement to Hogwarts and finally his rescue from Privet Drive. But he's not taken to his beloved second home, The Burrow; he's taken instead to a dingy row house in London that is completely foreign and unwelcoming.
Things don't get any easier. Harry finds out he has been undermined and attacked by the Ministry and the Daily Prophet, that he has been deliberately kept in the dark on what's going on with Voldemort, that his god-father is desperate and lonely and potentially no longer trustworthy to have Harry's best interests in mind, and that his mentor is completely avoiding him.
Things will be better when I get to Hogwarts, Harry tells himself.
Not so fast, young man. At Hogwarts, he comes face to face with the fact that known Death Eaters who are actively supporting Voldemort are still at large, their kids have been put into positions of authority over him at school, and the Ministry itself has installed its own operative into the school, seemingly for the sole purpose of torturing him both physically and psychologically.
Plus school work piles up, Hagrid is nowhere to be found and Snape is even more vile toward him than usual.
Yikes and yikes.
I'm nearly three-hundred pages in and I don't think Harry has gotten a single break yet. Even his Quidditch captain is furious with him for receiving unjust detentions and missing practices and now he has to worry about his friend Ron falling to pieces as Gryffindor's new keeper.
It's like Rowling sat down to write this book and thought: My characters, and my readers, are now old enough to deal with reality. In fact, they're old enough to deal with a world that is much more rotten than some people's reality.
And she doles misery out in massive proportions, especially to Harry.
It makes for a very, very difficult read. We suffer through every page with Harry and his friends. We experience the injuries and the injustices right along with him and we suffer with and for him.
It's an interesting choice by J.K., to be sure, to make us and her character suffer so. But, once the choice had been made, she certainly committed herself completely to it and wrote this book with an intensity that one rarely experiences in literature.
I find that I read The Order of the Phoenix very quickly, whenever I return to it, simply because I want to help Harry find a way out of all of this suffering as soon as possible.
It's a testament to Rowling's effectiveness as a writer, I think, and to her uncompromising dedication to making these books memorable.
J.K. had gotten us well-hooked by the time she wrote this, the fifth book in the series, and we have learned to care very deeply for her characters, especially Harry, Hermione and Ron.
So it's really tough to read a book where Harry in particular is so battered and abused, so isolated and alone, as this one. And J.K. pulls no punches. Not only does Harry suffer so badly in The Order of the Phoenix, she also makes sure he is very well aware of the unfairness of it all.
In North American football, we'd call it "piling on".
First, there are the Dursleys. Not only is Harry stuck in Little Whinging, alone with the a family of the worst kind of Muggles, he is also completely isolated from a wizarding world that he knows must be changing as a result of the return of Lord Voldemort.
And yet, for some reason, no one from that wizarding world is bothering to contact Harry or keep him informed.
Then come the Dementors, the revelation that Dumbledore has arranged to have Harry watched (without telling Harry about it), Harry's expulsion from and later re-instatement to Hogwarts and finally his rescue from Privet Drive. But he's not taken to his beloved second home, The Burrow; he's taken instead to a dingy row house in London that is completely foreign and unwelcoming.
Things don't get any easier. Harry finds out he has been undermined and attacked by the Ministry and the Daily Prophet, that he has been deliberately kept in the dark on what's going on with Voldemort, that his god-father is desperate and lonely and potentially no longer trustworthy to have Harry's best interests in mind, and that his mentor is completely avoiding him.
Things will be better when I get to Hogwarts, Harry tells himself.
Not so fast, young man. At Hogwarts, he comes face to face with the fact that known Death Eaters who are actively supporting Voldemort are still at large, their kids have been put into positions of authority over him at school, and the Ministry itself has installed its own operative into the school, seemingly for the sole purpose of torturing him both physically and psychologically.
Plus school work piles up, Hagrid is nowhere to be found and Snape is even more vile toward him than usual.
Yikes and yikes.
I'm nearly three-hundred pages in and I don't think Harry has gotten a single break yet. Even his Quidditch captain is furious with him for receiving unjust detentions and missing practices and now he has to worry about his friend Ron falling to pieces as Gryffindor's new keeper.
It's like Rowling sat down to write this book and thought: My characters, and my readers, are now old enough to deal with reality. In fact, they're old enough to deal with a world that is much more rotten than some people's reality.
And she doles misery out in massive proportions, especially to Harry.
It makes for a very, very difficult read. We suffer through every page with Harry and his friends. We experience the injuries and the injustices right along with him and we suffer with and for him.
It's an interesting choice by J.K., to be sure, to make us and her character suffer so. But, once the choice had been made, she certainly committed herself completely to it and wrote this book with an intensity that one rarely experiences in literature.
I find that I read The Order of the Phoenix very quickly, whenever I return to it, simply because I want to help Harry find a way out of all of this suffering as soon as possible.
It's a testament to Rowling's effectiveness as a writer, I think, and to her uncompromising dedication to making these books memorable.
Friday, March 7, 2014
I can learn from Rowling's subtlety and careful planning
One of the reasons I like to read and re-read the Harry Potter novels is because they are so well written. As an aspiring writer myself, I feel I can learn a great deal from how J.K. Rowling both in terms of plotting and in terms of the actual writing.
It has struck me, as I dive into The Goblet of Fire again, how well constructed this story is. We are all very familiar with incredibly dramatic ending of this book, with Harry and Cedric agreeing to share the Triwizard victory, then being instantly transported to the graveyard in Little Hangleton where they encounter, with world-shaking, deadly consequences, Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
What impresses me is how carefully Rowling sets the stage for the dramatic conclusion in the earliest parts of the book, how meticulously she prepares her readers for the fast-paced action that brings the novel to a close.
Take the concept of the "Portkey", for example. We have never seen one before this book. It's new and, as we find out, it is a key aspect of Voldemort's plan to bring Harry to the graveyard. Rowling needs to ensure two things as her readers head into the climax of the book: 1) that we understand and are comfortable with what a Portkey is and how it works; and 2) that she doesn't have to slow down the action and the build-up of suspense late in the novel to explain all that to us.
So J.K. introduces the Portkey to us early in the book, when she can do it slowly, carefully and with a full explanation of what it is and how it works. Its introduction at the top of Stoatshead Hill becomes, in fact, another part of our fascinating and ongoing introduction to the world of witches and wizards.
And, since Harry is as new to that world as we are, Rowling can plausibly have Mr. Weasley explain Portkeys to us (and to Harry) when they are first introduced.
Even more clever is the fact that Rowling chooses a very memorable metaphor to describe how it feels to be transported by a Portkey. It feels like "a hook just behind [your] navel has been suddenly jerked irresistibly forwards." That metaphor is not only incredible effective at conveying a feeling (I can just feel that hook yanking me from the centre of my body) but it is also very memorable in its description.
So memorable, in fact, that when, 500 pages later, Harry and Cedric grasp the Triwizard Cup together, all J.K. has to do is tell us that "Harry felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel" for us to know that the Cup is a Portkey and that Harry and Cedric are on their way somewhere they don't want to go.
Rowling also takes great care to introduce (or re-introduce) us to Cedric Diggory in a much more sympathetic way in this book. Since it is a key to the success of this book that we like Cedric by the end, in order to make his death more dramatic and affecting, it is important that we see him as more than the ridiculously handsome boy who actually beat Harry in Quidditch.
How does J.K. accomplish it? With her usual subtlety and style. Instead of giving us some extended scene where he comes across as weak or even maudlin, Rowling shows Cedric being embarrassed by his father's boasting and attempting to clarify that he at least understood why the Quidditch match had turned out as it had.
Thanks to this very brief moment in the early part of the book, we are much more willing to give Cedric the benefit of the doubt when he gets thrust into the unenviable position of being painted as Hogwart's wronged champion later in the novel.
I learn something from Rowling every time I read one of her books. And The Goblet of Fire contains as many lessons for an aspiring writer as any of them.
It has struck me, as I dive into The Goblet of Fire again, how well constructed this story is. We are all very familiar with incredibly dramatic ending of this book, with Harry and Cedric agreeing to share the Triwizard victory, then being instantly transported to the graveyard in Little Hangleton where they encounter, with world-shaking, deadly consequences, Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
What impresses me is how carefully Rowling sets the stage for the dramatic conclusion in the earliest parts of the book, how meticulously she prepares her readers for the fast-paced action that brings the novel to a close.
Take the concept of the "Portkey", for example. We have never seen one before this book. It's new and, as we find out, it is a key aspect of Voldemort's plan to bring Harry to the graveyard. Rowling needs to ensure two things as her readers head into the climax of the book: 1) that we understand and are comfortable with what a Portkey is and how it works; and 2) that she doesn't have to slow down the action and the build-up of suspense late in the novel to explain all that to us.
So J.K. introduces the Portkey to us early in the book, when she can do it slowly, carefully and with a full explanation of what it is and how it works. Its introduction at the top of Stoatshead Hill becomes, in fact, another part of our fascinating and ongoing introduction to the world of witches and wizards.
And, since Harry is as new to that world as we are, Rowling can plausibly have Mr. Weasley explain Portkeys to us (and to Harry) when they are first introduced.
Even more clever is the fact that Rowling chooses a very memorable metaphor to describe how it feels to be transported by a Portkey. It feels like "a hook just behind [your] navel has been suddenly jerked irresistibly forwards." That metaphor is not only incredible effective at conveying a feeling (I can just feel that hook yanking me from the centre of my body) but it is also very memorable in its description.
So memorable, in fact, that when, 500 pages later, Harry and Cedric grasp the Triwizard Cup together, all J.K. has to do is tell us that "Harry felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel" for us to know that the Cup is a Portkey and that Harry and Cedric are on their way somewhere they don't want to go.
Rowling also takes great care to introduce (or re-introduce) us to Cedric Diggory in a much more sympathetic way in this book. Since it is a key to the success of this book that we like Cedric by the end, in order to make his death more dramatic and affecting, it is important that we see him as more than the ridiculously handsome boy who actually beat Harry in Quidditch.
How does J.K. accomplish it? With her usual subtlety and style. Instead of giving us some extended scene where he comes across as weak or even maudlin, Rowling shows Cedric being embarrassed by his father's boasting and attempting to clarify that he at least understood why the Quidditch match had turned out as it had.
Thanks to this very brief moment in the early part of the book, we are much more willing to give Cedric the benefit of the doubt when he gets thrust into the unenviable position of being painted as Hogwart's wronged champion later in the novel.
I learn something from Rowling every time I read one of her books. And The Goblet of Fire contains as many lessons for an aspiring writer as any of them.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
On Dudley and choice seats for Quidditch
A couple of thoughts from the first couple of chapters of The Goblet of Fire.
After Fred and George managed to tempt Dudley with a Ton-Tongue Toffee and blow his tongue up like a balloon, do you think Harry told them about what Hagrid did to the kid? It would be a natural conversation, wouldn't it? "That was funny what you did to Dudley, but it's got nothing on the pig tail Hagrid gave him four years ago!"
And what do you make of the differences between how the book deals with the seating arrangements at the Quidditch World Cup and how the film version addresses the same issue? In the book, both the Weasley party and the Malfoy family are seated in the top box, leading to that nasty confrontation. In the movie, however, the point is made clearly that, while the Malfoys are guests of the Minister for Magic himself in the top box, Mr. Weasley could only afford the cheapest seats for his family.
That's not the only difference. In the book, Rowling makes it clear that the seats at the top of the stadium are the best and most costly; in the movie, Lucius Malfoy mocks Mr. Weasley's seats which are so high up in the stadium that, if it rains, the Weasley's will be the first to know.
First of all, why change it at all? Second of all, when the sport is Quidditch, the best seats must be at the top the stadium, where all the action is. So why does the movie version make it sound like it's better to be lower in the Stadium? Is that just because most Muggle movie-goers would automatically think lower is better because that's how it works at all of our sports venues?
I don't know. I don't get it. I can't figure out why the movie makers kept changing little things like that when the original book is clearly right.
After Fred and George managed to tempt Dudley with a Ton-Tongue Toffee and blow his tongue up like a balloon, do you think Harry told them about what Hagrid did to the kid? It would be a natural conversation, wouldn't it? "That was funny what you did to Dudley, but it's got nothing on the pig tail Hagrid gave him four years ago!"
And what do you make of the differences between how the book deals with the seating arrangements at the Quidditch World Cup and how the film version addresses the same issue? In the book, both the Weasley party and the Malfoy family are seated in the top box, leading to that nasty confrontation. In the movie, however, the point is made clearly that, while the Malfoys are guests of the Minister for Magic himself in the top box, Mr. Weasley could only afford the cheapest seats for his family.
That's not the only difference. In the book, Rowling makes it clear that the seats at the top of the stadium are the best and most costly; in the movie, Lucius Malfoy mocks Mr. Weasley's seats which are so high up in the stadium that, if it rains, the Weasley's will be the first to know.
First of all, why change it at all? Second of all, when the sport is Quidditch, the best seats must be at the top the stadium, where all the action is. So why does the movie version make it sound like it's better to be lower in the Stadium? Is that just because most Muggle movie-goers would automatically think lower is better because that's how it works at all of our sports venues?
I don't know. I don't get it. I can't figure out why the movie makers kept changing little things like that when the original book is clearly right.
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Enemies of Quidditch Beware...
Does it make you laugh too that, even as a crowd of Hogwarts teachers is gathered around a Petrified Mrs. Norris trying to figure out what happened to her in The Chamber of Secrets, Snape's first thought is how to use the situation to help Slytherin win at Quidditch?
I laugh out loud every time I read the scene.
Here they are, facing what is to that point one of the most significant, scariest threats ever to face Hogwarts and Professor Snape's only worry is how to gain an advantage for his Q-team. He suggests to Dumbledore, in his silkiest of voices, that Harry should be suspended from playing Quidditch until the mystery is resolved.
Love it.
Even better is the fact that Professor McGonagall, Deputy Head Mistress, immediately jumps to her team's defence.
Love it love it love it.
Further to the question, does it seem fair to you that 1) McGonagall was allowed to purchase the latest racing broom for her team's new Seeker in Book One, making it all but assured that Gryffindor's quidditch fortunes would improve significantly by giving its team a HUGE advantage over everyone else and 2) that Mr. Malfoy would be allowed to buy the entire Slytherin team even better brooms the following year?
I have to admit, I think it's kind of poetic justice that McGonagall's cheating is so effectively and overwhelming countered by the Malfoys in book two. If glorious, honourable Gryffindor can cheat, then certainly Slytherin can cheat too and do an even better job of it.
I laugh out loud every time I read the scene.
Here they are, facing what is to that point one of the most significant, scariest threats ever to face Hogwarts and Professor Snape's only worry is how to gain an advantage for his Q-team. He suggests to Dumbledore, in his silkiest of voices, that Harry should be suspended from playing Quidditch until the mystery is resolved.
Love it.
Even better is the fact that Professor McGonagall, Deputy Head Mistress, immediately jumps to her team's defence.
Love it love it love it.
Further to the question, does it seem fair to you that 1) McGonagall was allowed to purchase the latest racing broom for her team's new Seeker in Book One, making it all but assured that Gryffindor's quidditch fortunes would improve significantly by giving its team a HUGE advantage over everyone else and 2) that Mr. Malfoy would be allowed to buy the entire Slytherin team even better brooms the following year?
I have to admit, I think it's kind of poetic justice that McGonagall's cheating is so effectively and overwhelming countered by the Malfoys in book two. If glorious, honourable Gryffindor can cheat, then certainly Slytherin can cheat too and do an even better job of it.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Relishing a return to Rowling's humour
I've spent the past three weeks or so working my way through Stephenie Meyer's final three books in the twilight series: new moon, eclipse and breaking dawn. And, through a book sale at work, I managed to pick up all four of Meyer's novels in their French translations, which should help with my continuing effort to learn to read and speak that language.
Hooray for me.
This morning, however, I finally got the chance to get back to Harry Potter. More specifically, I picked up on The Goblet of Fire where I had left it off to start up with Bella, Edward and the twilight gang. I was delighted to find myself laughing out loud almost as soon as I began to read J.K.'s prose: the first scene I read was the one at the camp-site before the Quidditch World Cup, when Hermione, Ron and Harry return to their tent to find Mr. Weasley struggling to light a fire the Muggle way: with matches.
I just loved this line: "'Oops!' he said, as he managed to light a match, and promptly dropped it in surprise." I can just picture it happening: the scratch of the match, the flare of the flame, the surprise on Mr. Weasley's face and then his wrist flicking the burning match away from himself.
And that's yet another aspect of the Harry Potter novels that I think sets them apart from so much of the other Young Adult fiction out there: Rowling's sense of humour.
I found the twilight novels to be almost completely without humour, rolling along in a single consistently somber mood. I'm not sure The Hunger Games trilogy was any better.
But Rowling manages to find ways to brighten the tone of even her most challenging, frightening or intense scenes, often with a single turn of phrase or surprising observation. Her writing is quite Shakespearean in that way.
I shall keep an eye out for more examples that just this one as I continue to read and try to point out my favourites in future blogs.
Meanwhile, my friend Miranda chose to go out for Hallowe'en this year as Bellatrix Lestrange, putting together a convincingly evil costume and just the right sneer on her face. I'm told she encountered only on "Harry Potter" on her walk through the neighbourhood; fortunately, no duel ensued and both parties walked away unscathed.
Hooray for me.
This morning, however, I finally got the chance to get back to Harry Potter. More specifically, I picked up on The Goblet of Fire where I had left it off to start up with Bella, Edward and the twilight gang. I was delighted to find myself laughing out loud almost as soon as I began to read J.K.'s prose: the first scene I read was the one at the camp-site before the Quidditch World Cup, when Hermione, Ron and Harry return to their tent to find Mr. Weasley struggling to light a fire the Muggle way: with matches.
I just loved this line: "'Oops!' he said, as he managed to light a match, and promptly dropped it in surprise." I can just picture it happening: the scratch of the match, the flare of the flame, the surprise on Mr. Weasley's face and then his wrist flicking the burning match away from himself.
And that's yet another aspect of the Harry Potter novels that I think sets them apart from so much of the other Young Adult fiction out there: Rowling's sense of humour.
I found the twilight novels to be almost completely without humour, rolling along in a single consistently somber mood. I'm not sure The Hunger Games trilogy was any better.
But Rowling manages to find ways to brighten the tone of even her most challenging, frightening or intense scenes, often with a single turn of phrase or surprising observation. Her writing is quite Shakespearean in that way.
I shall keep an eye out for more examples that just this one as I continue to read and try to point out my favourites in future blogs.
Meanwhile, my friend Miranda chose to go out for Hallowe'en this year as Bellatrix Lestrange, putting together a convincingly evil costume and just the right sneer on her face. I'm told she encountered only on "Harry Potter" on her walk through the neighbourhood; fortunately, no duel ensued and both parties walked away unscathed.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Quibbling about Quaffles
I think we're missing some important information about Quidditch.Particularly about the scoring ball, the Quaffle.
I've been thinking about this for some time. I've tried to pay special attention whenever I read a passage in one of the novels where J.K. explains the game or describes people playing it. There's something that I don't get.
We know that the Chasers carry the Quaffle, pass it back and forth between them, and attempt to score goals (worth 10 points each) with it when they get down to the other team's end, right? We also read descriptions of the action in the various matches and find that the Chasers quite often lose control of the Quaffle when they are harassed, hit or otherwise hindered by either players from the opposite team or one of the Bludgers. Still with me?
My question is this: why do they lose control of the Quaffle so often?
The descriptions of this particular ball do not suggest that it is very large, nor very heavy, nor that it vibrates or jerks around on its own or attempts to escape anyone who holds it. And, when it is presented in the films, the Quaffle appears to me to be no larger and no more active than your average softball.
So why do the Chasers drop it so often?
Think about North-American-style football. In that game, the players carry a decent-sized ball and get hit, hard, often by several powerful players, on each play. And quite often the players from the other team actively try to pry the football from the ballcarrier's control. And yet fumbles are quite rare.
In Rowling's descriptions of Quidditch matches, whether played by the Hogwarts students or world-class pros, the Chasers are constantly dropping the Quaffle, sometimes even when a player from the other team does nothing more than nudge them.
Why?
I personally think the Quaffle must have some kind of energy of its own. It reacts when the player carrying it comes into contact with a player from the other team or a Bludger, making itself very hard to hold. That would explain all the fumbles, I think.
Maybe J.K. simply forgot to tell us about this special feature of the scoring ball in the sport of Quidditch.
I've been thinking about this for some time. I've tried to pay special attention whenever I read a passage in one of the novels where J.K. explains the game or describes people playing it. There's something that I don't get.
We know that the Chasers carry the Quaffle, pass it back and forth between them, and attempt to score goals (worth 10 points each) with it when they get down to the other team's end, right? We also read descriptions of the action in the various matches and find that the Chasers quite often lose control of the Quaffle when they are harassed, hit or otherwise hindered by either players from the opposite team or one of the Bludgers. Still with me?
My question is this: why do they lose control of the Quaffle so often?
The descriptions of this particular ball do not suggest that it is very large, nor very heavy, nor that it vibrates or jerks around on its own or attempts to escape anyone who holds it. And, when it is presented in the films, the Quaffle appears to me to be no larger and no more active than your average softball.
So why do the Chasers drop it so often?
Think about North-American-style football. In that game, the players carry a decent-sized ball and get hit, hard, often by several powerful players, on each play. And quite often the players from the other team actively try to pry the football from the ballcarrier's control. And yet fumbles are quite rare.
In Rowling's descriptions of Quidditch matches, whether played by the Hogwarts students or world-class pros, the Chasers are constantly dropping the Quaffle, sometimes even when a player from the other team does nothing more than nudge them.
Why?
I personally think the Quaffle must have some kind of energy of its own. It reacts when the player carrying it comes into contact with a player from the other team or a Bludger, making itself very hard to hold. That would explain all the fumbles, I think.
Maybe J.K. simply forgot to tell us about this special feature of the scoring ball in the sport of Quidditch.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Hermione and the Library that is Google
I saw an article recently that asked why, especially in the later books, Harry, Hermione and Ron didn't just "google" stuff to find out what was going on. For example, when they needed to know about the Deathly Hallows, why not just search "Deathly Hallows" on the internet.
The article pointed out that the later novels were written well after the internet matured into the world-dominating form it now takes so it would make sense that Harry would use it. Even more importantly, it would make sense that Hermione would use it as a back up to the Library.
It's a funny question and one that is, at first at least, interesting. But the simple answer to it is provided in the books themselves: the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy.
There is no way the Ministry of Magic would allow information about the magical world to end up on the web. There are probably Ministry staff members who are paid to search the internet and remove any such information or, better still, someone who won a magical award for services to the community for coming up with a web-scouring spell that monitors the web and instantly removes any web entries that breach the Statute.
I know, a bit of a "straw man" when the question can be answered so easily but interesting none-the-less.
In related news, a colleague at work recently visited the Wiarding World of Harry Potter in Orlando. He reports that the Butter Beer is delicious and the memorabilia available in the shops is not as outrageously priced as I feared. A wand, complete with case like the boxes in Olivander's, was just thirty bucks. A quidditch jersey like Harry wore in the films was just twenty five. And a Gyffindor scarf, machine made but similar to the one my sister handmade for me, was forty five. Probably nowhere near as nice and warm but still...
The article pointed out that the later novels were written well after the internet matured into the world-dominating form it now takes so it would make sense that Harry would use it. Even more importantly, it would make sense that Hermione would use it as a back up to the Library.
It's a funny question and one that is, at first at least, interesting. But the simple answer to it is provided in the books themselves: the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy.
There is no way the Ministry of Magic would allow information about the magical world to end up on the web. There are probably Ministry staff members who are paid to search the internet and remove any such information or, better still, someone who won a magical award for services to the community for coming up with a web-scouring spell that monitors the web and instantly removes any web entries that breach the Statute.
I know, a bit of a "straw man" when the question can be answered so easily but interesting none-the-less.
In related news, a colleague at work recently visited the Wiarding World of Harry Potter in Orlando. He reports that the Butter Beer is delicious and the memorabilia available in the shops is not as outrageously priced as I feared. A wand, complete with case like the boxes in Olivander's, was just thirty bucks. A quidditch jersey like Harry wore in the films was just twenty five. And a Gyffindor scarf, machine made but similar to the one my sister handmade for me, was forty five. Probably nowhere near as nice and warm but still...
Friday, November 18, 2011
Rushing past the hints Rowling gives us
It's funny to be re-reading the opening chapters of The Prisoner of Azkaban, knowing so well how the plot develops.
Everywhere you turn in the opening chapters of this book is Ron's rat, Scabbers, who ends up playing such a large part in the plot in the latter stages of the novel. He's in the Daily Prophet's photo of the Weasley family in Egypt, he's front and centre in the scene where Harry first encounters Hermione and Ron in Diagon Alley, Crookshanks attacks him in the pet store and, just to make sure we're aware of him, the pet shop owner actually tells us that it is highly unusual for a rat to have lived as long as he has.
So why is that, when I first read this novel, I didn't pick up on this sudden focus on Scabbers and recognise that he would play such a big role in the novel?
It's amazing, I think, how our mind works when we read. A skilled writer can give us all sorts of hints and clues about what's to come and yet, unless we're extremely observant, we just flow right past them.
Remember, in The Philosopher's Stone, how Rowling is very careful to tell us that Hermione bowls Professor Quirrell over as she rushes to distract Snape during the Quidditch match? Same thing happened to us there: we're so caught up in the action, so quick to accept the conclusions that the characters draw from the evidence before them, that we miss the hints J.K. gives us about what is really true.
It's good writing. And it makes re-reading the novels even more interesting.
Everywhere you turn in the opening chapters of this book is Ron's rat, Scabbers, who ends up playing such a large part in the plot in the latter stages of the novel. He's in the Daily Prophet's photo of the Weasley family in Egypt, he's front and centre in the scene where Harry first encounters Hermione and Ron in Diagon Alley, Crookshanks attacks him in the pet store and, just to make sure we're aware of him, the pet shop owner actually tells us that it is highly unusual for a rat to have lived as long as he has.
So why is that, when I first read this novel, I didn't pick up on this sudden focus on Scabbers and recognise that he would play such a big role in the novel?
It's amazing, I think, how our mind works when we read. A skilled writer can give us all sorts of hints and clues about what's to come and yet, unless we're extremely observant, we just flow right past them.
Remember, in The Philosopher's Stone, how Rowling is very careful to tell us that Hermione bowls Professor Quirrell over as she rushes to distract Snape during the Quidditch match? Same thing happened to us there: we're so caught up in the action, so quick to accept the conclusions that the characters draw from the evidence before them, that we miss the hints J.K. gives us about what is really true.
It's good writing. And it makes re-reading the novels even more interesting.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Colin Creevey and Rowling's cleverness
J.K.'s cleverness and creativity as a writer never cease to amaze me. As you know, I'm currently reading The Chamber of Secrets in French, which is giving me a chance to re-read that second novel with the intense concentration required when reading in a second language.
This time through, I noticed the really neat way Rowling came up with to explain the rules of Quidditch again without making it seem repetitive and boring for people who had read her first novel over and over again. She introduces Harry's biggest fan, Colin Creevey, and has him grill Harry with questions about Quidditch as Harry heads out for his first team practice of second year.
This approach allows Rowling to develop both of their characters, move their relationship forward and re-explain the rules of Quidditch all at once. It's pretty clever and also helpful for those readers who haven't read the books over and over again.
This time through, I noticed the really neat way Rowling came up with to explain the rules of Quidditch again without making it seem repetitive and boring for people who had read her first novel over and over again. She introduces Harry's biggest fan, Colin Creevey, and has him grill Harry with questions about Quidditch as Harry heads out for his first team practice of second year.
This approach allows Rowling to develop both of their characters, move their relationship forward and re-explain the rules of Quidditch all at once. It's pretty clever and also helpful for those readers who haven't read the books over and over again.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
The first book is an action-packed ride
As I read The Philosopher's Stone through in French, I find myself amazed at how much actually happens in this book. There's action on almost every page.
First, the zoo and the Dursleys. Then the letter and the flight to the rock in the sea. Then Hagrid, Diagon Alley and the Hogwarts Express.
Harry arrives at school and is sorted. Neville and the Rememberall. Quidditch. Nicholas Flamel and the Stone. Late night duels. Fluffy. It just goes on and on.
I've just gotten to the scene where Norbert hatches from his egg. There are only 50 pages left in the book and it's amazing how much has happened, yet also how much still has to happen before the book draws to a close.
An amazingly busy novel!
First, the zoo and the Dursleys. Then the letter and the flight to the rock in the sea. Then Hagrid, Diagon Alley and the Hogwarts Express.
Harry arrives at school and is sorted. Neville and the Rememberall. Quidditch. Nicholas Flamel and the Stone. Late night duels. Fluffy. It just goes on and on.
I've just gotten to the scene where Norbert hatches from his egg. There are only 50 pages left in the book and it's amazing how much has happened, yet also how much still has to happen before the book draws to a close.
An amazingly busy novel!
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