A magical muggle moment

Another Harry Potter moment.

I'm sitting in the car with our golden doodle, waiting for my partner to emerge from the grocery store.

A young woman, perhaps 14 or 15 years old, tall and thin with that angularity of body that speaks of a recent growth spurt, walks past, supporting an elderly woman, apparently her grandmother.

She's wearing jeans and a mauve t-shirt that appears at first to be unremarkable.

Then, after helping her grandmother into the front seat, she turns and looks past me and my car toward the door to the store. For the first time, I catch a glimpse of the front of the shirt.

It says "Muggle" in a flowing script.

That's it. Just "Muggle".

Brilliant. I'm so used to seeing people (like me) wearing items that suggest they are members of the magical world of Harry Potter -- like my own Gryffindor scarf, for example -- and here is this young woman making no such claim.

She's one of the world's non-magical folk. And she's proud of the fact.

I wonder where she got the shirt.

Rowling's missed opportunity in The Half-Blood Prince

I have spent a lot of time trying to figure out why I think that The Half-Blood Prince is the weakest of the seven Harry Potter novels. What is it about this book that simply does not work?

Sure, I've read the critics who disregard THBP as merely a set-up for the grand finale. And I think there's some merit to that argument.

But I think there's something more.

And I also think that, despite its limitations, THBP also has a lot to offer, a lot of really interesting scenes and great writing.

My analysis is by no means complete at this point but, if I had to say today what most concerns me about this novels, I'd have to say that it's the fact that, for the first and only time in the Harry Potter series, the main line of action in the book does not involve Harry, Hermione and Ron directly. In fact, the novel's central plot -- Draco Malfoy's desperate attempt to kill Dumbledore and redeem his family in the eyes of the Dark Lord -- happens almost entirely "off stage", so to speak.

It's an odd choice for Rowling and, in my opinion, a missed opportunity.

J.K. shows, in the first two chapters, that she is willing to permit her narrative voice to venture far away from our hero, Harry. In fact, Harry does not even appear in "The Other Minister" and "Spinner's End" -- in these opening chapters, Rowling presents the story from the perspective of the Muggle Prime Minister and of Narcissa Malfoy and Severus Snape.

What I don't understand is why she then commits herself so firmly and irrevocably to Harry's point of view from the third chapter onward. Especially when the central tale is with Draco, an interesting and enigmatic character who finds himself facing an extremely difficult challenge.

Wouldn't you have loved to have experienced the entire main plot of the sixth book through the eyes of Draco Malfoy, to understand the pressures he is under, the mixture of fear, anger, and desperation he must feel as he tries to figure out a way to accomplish the task set before him?

Wouldn't that have been a fascinating way to see the magical world in the Harry Potter series?

And wouldn't you have been much more caught up in the building suspense of the main plot of the book?

My point is that Rowling set herself a very difficult task in THBP: to try to keep her reader enthralled in the story without actually permitting us to experience in any real, ongoing way the development of that story.

And I think she, for the most part, failed.

I don't think the brief glimpses we see of Draco, the tiny hints to which we become privy throughout the novel, the suspicions of Harry that are brought to our attention but dismissed by everyone else are sufficient to keep us riveted by that story line.

And I don't think that other things Rowling offers in THBP -- the quidditch subplot, the romantic story lines, even the investigation of Voldemort's childhood -- are sufficient to make up for the lack of a gripping main plot.

Rowling is still Rowling in The Casual Vacancy

I have finally gotten around to reading J.K. Rowling's first adult novel, The Casual Vacancy. I am only about 100 pages in so far so I'm in no position to make any sweeping conclusions about it but I will say this: Rowling is still a wonderful writer.

Alright, maybe that's a sweeping conclusion.

But, whatever one might think about this down-and-dirty adult novel, you have to admit that J.K. Rowling writes beautiful sentences, crafts memorable descriptions and creates effective and affecting characters.

With that being said, I have two very early comments to make about this book and, sorry Joanne, but both involve me comparing The Casual Vacancy to your Harry Potter books. I can't help it. I'm a HP fan and can't help but to hear the echoes of your earlier works in this latest one.

First, at the beginning of Chapter Monday X of TCV, Rowling writes the following in the wake of Barry Fairbrother's death and its announcement on the Parish Council's website: "little knots of pedestrians kept congregating on the narrow pavements to check, in shocked tones, the exactness of their information."

Doesn't that remind you, just a little, of Rowling's descriptions of the way the wizarding world reacted to Voldemort's disappearance at the start of the Harry Potter series?

Early in The Philosopher's Stone, she wrote: "there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks...They were whispering excitedly together." And later, Professor McGonagall complains that, in the aftermath of Voldemort's historic first encounter with Harry Potter, "People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumours."

Not the same words, sure, but the exact same effect, don't you think? For me, it's kind of neat to see this kind of pattern in Rowling's thinking and writing.

So far, my favourite character in TCV is Krystal Weedon, the misery-hardened teen who feels her chance of escape has disappeared with Mr. Fairbrother's death. As I said, I'm only about 100 pages into this book and already I've developed a deep-seated empathy for this character.

Rowling is at her evocative best in chapter Wednesday I, the first that really takes up Krystal's point of view. And what a heart-rending chapter it is, as Rowling subtly, carefully allows us to see how devastating her coach and teacher's death is to this seemingly callous, hardened young woman.

As I read it, I can't help but thinking of Snape when he was young, a lost, lonely boy living a loveless life, with no real hope of something better.

It is a credit to Rowling that she is able to create such empathy for these apparently distasteful characters, that she can capture so effectively the devastating impact of poverty and abandonment on a young life. If Weedon (and what a great name that is for this character) is brutal and nasty and offensive, it is life that has made her that way. But that doesn't mean that she's not human, that she doesn't at some level of her soul recognise what she is and what she has become and hope for something better.

I'm quite enjoying The Casual Vacancy. I'll probably write more on it as I work my way through it.

The mysterious disappearance of the wizarding robes

Where are their robes?

It's just occurred to me. The filmmakers have virtually done away with the wearing of robes, so prevalent in the novels, in Part 2 of The Deathly Hallows.

Why?

We see the Hogwarts students in their school robes first as they march into the castle under Headmaster Snape's watchful eye early in the film and then again in the school assembly scene where Harry finally confronts Snape. But, other than those two scenes, the wearing of robes seems to have disappeared completely.

Harry, Hermione and Ron remain in Muggle clothes throughout the entire film, except for Harry's decision to don (someone's) robes to slip into the school assembly scene. The members of the Order, the Death Eaters, everyone else seems content to wear anything other than the traditional garb of witches and wizards as so clearly established in the books.

Now, let's think about this for a moment. J.K. presents to us a wizarding world where the wearing of robes is as natural to the magical people as wearing jeans and tops is to many of us Muggles. Wizards and witches would feel comfortable, normal in robes and would find wearing anything else strange.

Yet, by the eighth film, suddenly they're all taking the first opportunity to dump their robes and put on slacks and sweaters. It doesn't make sense.

Rowling describes very carefully how Harry makes sure to tuck his Invisibility Cloak and his wand away in his robes when he goes into the Forbidden Forest to die at Voldemort's hand in the seventh book. In the movie version of this scene, Harry's in Muggle clothing.

Why? Well, I know why. It's cheaper, it's easier and it helps viewers identify with the good guys in the final battle. They're just like us. The Death Eaters, while not in robes per se, wear strange dark outfits that set them apart. The good guys dress like we, the audience members do.

I get that. But I don't like it. It's a cop out. And it's not right.

One last question: where do all the robes go between the school assembly scene (where all the Hogwarts students are in their robes) and the battle scenes that follow? There's no temporal break between McGonagall's duel with Snape and the Death Eaters' attack on Hogwarts and yet somehow all of the robes disappear.

That must be some closet they've got there in the Great Hall to hold all those robes.

Early perceptions of Arthur Weasley and the family's poverty

I like Arthur Weasley, Ron's father. I really do. I think he is an admirable character with mostly the right motives. It turns out that he's fun and he's kind and, despite his mild manner, extremely brave.

And I think it's interesting the way J.K. uses the relative poverty of his family to create tension, especially when it comes to Ron's misbehaviours in school. Just about every time Ron gets into trouble, the issue of his father losing his job comes up with the ruin of the family looming behind it.

But there's a scene involving Arthur Weasley early in The Chamber of Secrets that makes me uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Every time I read it, I cringe.

Rowling includes a number of scenarios in the first fifty pages of the book to show just how poor the Weasleys are, from Fred and George worrying about how their parents will be able to afford all the expensive books on their school reading lists to descriptions of the Burrow that focus on its shabbiness to the fact that they will have to buy most of Ginny's school things second-hand for her first year at Hogwarts.

Things come to a head (for the reader and for Harry) when they all arrive at Gringotts. Rowling reports that Harry "felt dreadful, far worse than he had in Knockturn Alley, when [the Weasleys' vault] was opened. There was a very small pile of silver Sickles inside and just one gold Galleon. Mrs Weasley felt right into the corners before sweeping the whole lot into her bag."

It is very clear that the Weasleys are poor and that every Knut they have will be spent buying school supplies for their five children who are still at Hogwarts. It's even clearer that, despite committing every Knut, they will still be forced to buy most things second hand, resulting, for example, in Ginny heading off for her first year at school with "a very old, very battered copy of A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration."

And there's nothing wrong with that. Most families have to economise in some ways and we can all respect that the Weasleys, including their children, are content to spend what money they have on important things (like helping Harry, supporting each other, etc.) even at the sacrifice of their own interests.

What bothers me is this: moments after Molly sweeps every last Knut they can lay claim to into her bag to buy second-hand supplies for her kids, Arthur Weasley feels no compunction about "taking the Grangers [Hermione's parents] off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink" so that he can satisfy his curiosity about Muggles. He's ready to spend some of that desperately needed money at the pub even as his wife works very hard to see to the needs of their children with what's left.

Maybe it's because of my own background but I find this decision by Arthur very distasteful. He's basically putting his own personal interests ahead of those of the rest of his family. I know, most readers probably read through that section without any concerns but it just hit me as a problem the first time I read it and has stood out for me ever since.

Of course, it probably had a greater impact on me the first time I read The Chamber of Secrets because, at that point, I was just meeting Arthur for the first time. If you take this incident and add it to the other early hints that Arthur is not necessarily as supportive of his wife and family as he could be (hiding Muggle relics in the shed, putting spells on them at the risk of his own job, failing to recognise that the boys' decision to take the car and rescue Harry could have a serious impact on the entire family so that their behaviour should be the subject of discipline rather than interest and delight), you start with a decidedly negative view of this man and his commitment to his family.

Thankfully, of course, we learn as we finish reading the second book and continue into the later novels that Arthur Weasley is a thoroughly likable, honourable and committed character. But, for me at least, these first glimpses are not particularly positive.

A couple of other thought pop into mind as we read these early descriptions of the Weasley family's financial challenges:
1. Why would they buy Ginny a used copy of a textbook that Ron, Fred, George, Percy and likely the two older brothers have all had to buy as well? Why not just pass their copies down to her?
2. Where did they get the money for Ginny's wand? We know that Ron's is a hand-me-down but we get no explanation as to where Ginny's wand comes from. We learned from Harry's trip to Ollivanders in Book One that a new wand can cost seven gold Galleons so how could the Weasleys afford a new one for Ginny?
3. I find it very believable, but also very tragic, that Harry at twelve is incapable of doing anything but feel shame when he compares his own loaded bank vault with the empty one of the Weasleys. If he were older and more mature, he probably could have found ways to deal with his shame by contributing to their family economy, perhaps by paying board for the times he stayed with them or purchasing a load of groceries or something. It becomes less of an issue as the novels progress, of course. I would guess that, as Charlie and Bill develop their careers, they begin to send money back to their parents to alleviate their financial stresses.

That silly dancing scene

I know that it is a real challenge for filmmakers to capture the emotional depths of a novel on screen. But I still don't get the silly dancing scene in the first part of the film version of The Deathly Hallows.

I don't think it conveys what Harry and Hermione are feeling at that moment (just after Ron has abandoned them) and I think it adds an unnecessary subtext: is there sexual attraction between the Chosen One and the muggle-born wonder?

And it bothers me even more when I think about all the great stuff they cut out of the book to keep the movie a reasonable length, yet they choose to waste a good three minutes on this blather.

How do you say "Hogwarts" in French?

I'm well into the french translation of The Philosopher's Stone, though in French it's called Harry Potter a L'ecole des Sorciers which translates into "Harry Potter at the School for Sorcerors".

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the novel is just as fun and exciting in French as it is in English.

I feel entitled to feel surprised, though, that the translator, Jean-Francois Menard, has chosen to "translate" some of J.K.'s made up words as well. For example, "Hogwarts" has been changed to "Poudlard" and "Muggles" is "Moldus" in French.

Menard could have simply left them as is: not changed them at all. After all, "Harry" is still "Harry". And I'm told by French-speaking friends that neither "Poudlard" nor "Moldus" has any real meaning in French, at least no meanings that are related to the novels.

Interesting.

The Art of The Half-Blood Prince

I've finally completed my reading of The Order of the Phoenix, having thoroughly enjoyed the final interaction between Harry and Dumbledore at the end. Now I'm onto The Half-Blood Prince, the book that has been broadly panned for being merely a set up for the final novel.

Problem is, I have grown to enjoy the sixth novel very much. I think it is the best written of the seven. Rowling makes it interesting without imbuing the story with the heart-stopping action of the other books.

The first two chapters of the novel send a clear message that something new is afoot. Harry Potter appears in neither of them. The first is a vivid scene told from the point of view of the Muggle Prime Minister, who is dealing with a string of disasters and a visit from the new Minister For Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour.

The second chapter involves Narcissa Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange and Severus Snape. Both are very well written but very different from each other. In the first, Rowling speaks from a particular point of view, that of the Muggle, while in the second, her narrator is much less subjectively placed, following the interactions between the three characters in an almost objective fashion.

It's writing at an exceptionally high, surprisingly adult level. It sends a message that the Harry Potter series has come of age.

Who Died to Create the Diary Horcrux?

Voldemort created his first Horcrux, the Diary, while he was still Tom Riddle and attending Hogwarts. Who did he kill to create it?

Anybody know? Is it anywhere in the books? I can't find it. The best I can guess is that Tom Riddle murdered the young muggle-born girl when the Chamber of Secrets was first opened up and the Basilisk took the blame for her death.