On children's stories and house elves

I know. It's been a long time since I posted a new entry to this blog, hasn't it? Don't worry, though: it's not because I've abandoned Harry Potter. Not in the least. In fact, I'm currently luxuriating in the wonder that is The Goblet of Fire, enjoying every word of it.

But more on that below. The really exciting news is that I am about to release my own book for young people. Yes indeed! No, I'm not going to claim it's on the same level as J.K.'s books, don't worry. But I am very proud of the writing and of the work my sister has done to design and layout the book, as well as provide original illustrations for it.

The book is the first in a series of three planned volumes of short stories entitled Abigail Massey at McAdam Station. They will be self-published through an online printer (Blurb.ca) and available for sale through any outlet we can find, mostly in my home province of New Brunswick in Canada.

The books are a fund raiser to support the restoration and preservation of the beautiful and historic Railway Station and Hotel in McAdam, New Brunswick. This tiny village of 1,300 people is working hard to restore this national architectural treasure, even though the cost of restoration has been pegged as high as $10-million. As the press release I've drafted for the release of the book says, "How does a village of 1,300 raise more than $10-million to preserve a historic building for the benefit of 30-million Canadians? It gets creative."

The stories are set in 1941, when the McAdam Railway Station was the gateway to the East Coast for Canada's war effort. They feature a group of teenage girls, led by Abigail Massey herself, who live and work at the Station, I've tried for a Nancy-Drew-like feel to the writing so they're very innocent but also, I hope, quite exciting. Several of the stories involve events or personalities drawn from the history of the Station, including the Canadian Prime Minister of the time and famed skater Barbara Ann Scott.

If you want more information, please visit the project website at www.abigailmassey.ca.

OK, enough with the advertisement. On with the Potter discussion. Let's talk a minute about Hermione's efforts to emancipate the House Elves: S.P.E.W.

I'm interested in this project for a number of reasons, most importantly because it raises the discussion of slavery and self-determination. Are the House Elves enslaved, as Hermione seems to suggest? Is it appropriate for her to attempt to force them into a more "emancipated" state?

Is the decision to remain enslaved an acceptable decision?

What is J.K. trying to say with this whole subplot?

The way I'm reading it, the House Elves are in fact enslaved (they cannot decide of their own volition to leave their masters) and, as a result, they can be treated quite brutally. But, even when they are given the choice (as Dobby and Winky are), they appear to wish to choose to remain in their enslaved position rather than be free.

Should not that decision be respected? Is Hermione not wrong to try to convince them to be unhappy with their lot?

It's an interesting question.

On one side, we could argue that, even though the House Elves themselves appear to argue in favour of their own continued enslavement, to claim that they like it, they wish it, it's in their natures to be enslaved, their decision is in fact coerced both by their own history (they have never known what it is like to be free and therefore fear it; their parents and grandparents always served a master so it appears to be the natural, appropriate state for them) and their legitimate fear (as proven by Dobby's own experience when he attempted to find paying employment) that they will be rejected by society if they don't continue their enslavement.

On the other side, we could find numerous examples in our own society where individuals (or even groups of individuals) subsume their own personal needs and personal fulfillment (at least as most of society would define those terms) to the needs of another person, group or cause in an almost slave-like manner. Does the fact that one receives wages and some time off really make that much of a difference for a person in a low paying job who absolutely has to keep the job to feed herself and her family? Is that kind of a situation that far from slavery?

Does that person really have a choice? Can she really, honestly choose to quit her job, if the town or city where she lives has high unemployment and no open positions?

I know... deep deep subjects. My problem is, I'm not sure I agree with Hermione in this case. I think she completely misreads the situation and projects her own "stuff" (the social and cultural beliefs that she's learned from her middle class Muggle parents) onto a race of beings she doesn't seem to wish to take the time to understand. Or even listen to.

In attempting to fight for their right to self-determination, Hermione herself makes the massive error of thinking she has the right to speak for the House Elves, to determine what is best for them without taking into consideration their opinions on the issues.

In fighting for their rights, she seems to me to be trampling them herself.

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.

How Rowling eclipses Meyer

First, an admission, then some thoughts.

The admission: despite the fact that I swore I would stop reading the twilight books after number two, new moon, I found myself in the Owl's Nest in Fredericton last week dropping five bucks on a used copy of eclipse, which of course is book three. I guess I'm a little bit hooked. And, surprisingly, it seems to have been the movies that did it, not the books themselves. I was impressed with the first two film adaptations and then felt I had to read books three and four before watching the films made of them.

Some thoughts: One of the great advantages that I think the J.K. Rowling series has over the Stephenie Meyer series is that Rowling adapts her style of writing to her maturing audience with each new book in the series. Meyers' books are all written for the same, young teen audience.

I can understand why Meyer would choose to do this, to be consistent in her style so that her readers would know what they're getting.

But I have a huge admiration for Rowling's realisation that her readers are themselves maturing in the interim period between the publication of her books. A reader who was thirteen when The Philosopher's Stone first came out would be 14 or so when The Chamber of Secrets was released, 15 to 16 when The Prisoner of Azkaban was published, and so on.

Rowling clearly understood that fact and made sure that the level and sophistication of each new book matched the level and sophistication of her reader. It's quite brilliant in its conception and really impressive in its execution.

Even now, I can enjoy the differing charms and attractions of each novel in the series. With Meyer, I find myself bemoaning the fact that each book offers the same tone, the same level of diction, the same sophistication of characterization and plot.

For example, the Bella Swan who works so well in twilight as a 16-year-old is less convincing in new moon as a 17-year-old and, as I'm finding out now, comes across almost embarrassingly infantile as an 18-year-old in eclipse. And the writing style doesn't mature either.

All of that being said, Meyer must be doing something right because I'm still reading.

new moon takes things too far

I haven't posted in a while, mainly because I've had other reading obligations drawing my attention away from Harry and the gang.

The latest novel on my list, however, is the second entry in the twilight series, new moon. I'm not liking it half so much as I did twilight itself and that got me to thinking about why that might be.

I think I've figured it out. And I think it shines some light on a question faced by all writers of these kinds of books, including J.K. Rowling when she sat down to start writing Harry Potter.

The question is this: how closely do I plan to align the invented, magical parts of my novel's world with the "real" parts of that world? If I don't wish to write novels of pure fantasy but to maintain some level of connection between my stories and the real world of the reader, how do I balance the novel's "real" world with its magical counterpart?

It appears to me that writers have to decide either to create some barrier between to the two worlds, which allows the magical world to grow and develop, or to integrate the two worlds together, which requries that the magical aspects remain limited in depth and scope.

J.K Rowling decided to go the former route: using Diagon Alley as the doorway and the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy as the wall, she has created two seperate worlds that exist in parallel, rarely if ever meeting directly. She asks the readers to accept that Harry and Hermione, for example, can be born and raised in the real world, then invited to join the magical world when they reach age 11. In order to enjoy her novels, we must suspend our disbelief and accept that the magical world could possibly co-exist with our own. The limited interaction between the two and the efforts made by the wizards and witches to erase any trace of such interactions make it easier for us to go along with the fiction.

C.S. Lewis' Narnia series, the Peter Pan stories, the Wizard of Oz and Alice in Wonderland are all examples of authors who took similar approaches. They all involve a magical world that exists in parallel with our own, connected only by a single doorway through which the human characters travel.

Stephenie Meyer's twilight series, on the other hand, takes the other route: instead of creating a completely independent magical world, Meyer asks us to accept that vampies walk among us, that they have their own society, culture and history that exists in our own reality. There is no doorway between the worlds because there is only one world: the world the reader lives in.

In order for this approach to be effective, the writer must be very careful not to ask us to accept too much and I think that's where Meyer goes off the rails in new moon. I was able to accept that vampires exist and that a star-struck romance like that between Edward, the vampire, and Bella, the human, was possible. So I enjoyed twilight. But I'm having a lot more trouble now accepting the expansion of that magical world to include werewolves in new moon, and further that our unfortunate Bella could possibly end up with two perfect, wonderful star struck lovers, one a vampire, the other a werewolf and each the mortal enemy of the other.

Meyer appears to wish to "have her cake and eat it too" in that she wants her readers to accept that her books take place entirely in the real world and yet she wants to be allowed to add layer upon layer to the magical world she develops.

At some point, she has stretched reality so far that it actually breaks. And I think that happens in new moon.

Because she wants to set her stories in the real world, she can only add so many magical elements and expect her reader to accept them.

And,a t this point, I can't.

I would compare the effect to the horror genre. In order to be truly scary, a horror novel or movie must be based in the real world. We are not going to be afraid unless we identify the the character who is in danger or we fear that the scary stuff could happen to us. Either way, the characters and their world must be close enough to us and our world to make the story effective.

When the horror story strays too far from reality, it loses its effect. Sure, there's an entire branch of horror (the British call it "Hammer horror") that prides itself on being so ridiculous as to be funny but the really good horror movies and books are scary because they don't stray too far from reality.

In new moon, Meyer is starting to stray a little too far. And she doesn't have the protection of the seperate-world trope that makes Rowling's books so good.

In praise of The Prisoner but with questions

I love The Prisoner of Azkaban. The more often I read the Harry Potter novels, the more I come to recognise how clearly this novel rises above the others in my estimation.

I think J.K. has been quoted as saying that it was the easiest of the books for her to write and I think that shows too, in the quality of the narrative, in the smooth flow of the writing, in the intensity of the experience for the reader. It reads like a spectacular roller coaster ride, a smooth but terrifying journey.

I'm about a fifth of the way through Azkaban again and, as usual, enjoying it very much. I enjoy our first meeting with Stan Shunpike as much on this, my 20th or so reading, as I did on my first reading. I am impressed with the way Rowling, truly one of the most clever writers I've ever read, is able to focus the attention of the story on Ron's rat, Scabbers, in the early part of the book without giving the reader the slightest inkling that the rat is, truly, the central character in the novel.

Rowling simply inserts Scabbers (and his conflict with Hermione's new cat, Crookshanks) as a constantly arising point of conflict between Ron and Hermione and allows her reader to focus on the conflict without recognising that she is putting Scabbers squarely into our field of vision on a regular basis.

I have a couple of questions, though, on issues which I think might be engendered by the speed with which Rowling wrote this book:

1. Why does no one mention, either to Harry or otherwise, that Sirius Black was a member of the Order of the Phoenix in this novel? Shunpike, for example, states in a matter-of-fact way that Black was one of Voldemort's key supporters. Was he? We learn later that he was a member of the Order, the group actually fighting Voldemort. Could his apparent betrayal of James and Lily and his purported murder of 13 people be sufficient to make everyone forget his role with the Order? I would think they would be talking more about his betrayal, in the end, rather than his place with Voldemort.

2. Why does Lupin have "Professor R. J. Lupin"  stamped "in peeling letters" on his case at the start of the book? He wasn't a professor before this year and he doesn't continue to teach afterwards. We get no indication throughout the rest of the novels that he is a trained educator: his position teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts in Harry's third year appears to be a "one of" for him, welcomed employment thanks to Dumbledore. So why would he own a battered old case with "Professor R. J. Lupin" stamped on it in peeling letters?

3. Why do the Weasley's choose to take a holiday in Egypt as their "special treat" with the winnings from the Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw? Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had gone to Egypt just the previous Christmas, a trip that their children were apparently welcome to enjoy with them but had chosen not to do so (see The Chamber of Secrets). Wouldn't they have chosen some other place for their celebratory holiday, a place they hadn't just visited?

4. What happens to Crookshanks in the rest of the books? He plays such a big role here and certainly Sirius says later in the book that Crookshanks is "the most intelligent of his kind I've ever met". Yet he doesn't really do much for the rest of the series of novels. Why not?

Picky points, I know. As readers of this blog know, I just love to find these little questions, to point out these minor issues in Rowling's incredible books. I hope I'm not offending any one; I just find it fun to do.

Similarities tie Fifty Shades to twilight

Not really a Harry Potter post, to be honest.

In fact, not even really related to Harry Potter but perhaps still of interest to those readers who enjoy YA fiction and keep track, as I do, of the recent cycles of massively popular books that appear to build upon each other.

I know that this is a bit simplistic but I can't help but think of the Harry Potter series as having inspired twilight and twilight as having inspired The Hunger Games. Perhaps not directly in terms of the writing but certainly indirectly in terms of the promotion and popularity of each series.

Each is a series of YA novels involving a likeable, lonely young protagonist finding her/himself lifted out of her/his difficult life to face significantly greater excitement and challenges in a strange, often supernatural, world.

So imagine my surprise when, last night as my partner was describing to me her experience of reading the first 100 pages or so of the new adult megahit Fifty Shades of Grey, I couldn't stop thinking about and comparing that story to twilight, the first novel in that series.

The parallels between the two stories are remarkable. So much so that I can't help but thinking the author of Fifty Shades owes Stephenie Meyer a real debt of gratitude.

Now remember, I have not read Fifty Shades and am basing my impression on my partner's description of the start of that novel, but consider these similarities:

1. Both are told in the first person, through a sweet, innocent, self-doubting young woman thrust into a new and unknown social situation;
2. Both involve that protagonist meeting an intoxicating, irresistable man and both include long descriptions of his incredible beauty, with a focus (believe it or not) on his scent;
3. Both males are masterful, powerful and worldly; both are older and more experienced than the female protagonist and enjoy a great deal more social and physical power;
4. Both stories are told as romances with a background of fear and terror;
5. In both stories, the sexual relationship between the two main characters involves significant danger of physical harm to the woman.

According to my partner, Fifty Shades is terribly written with no literary merit whatsoever. I'm glad to say that twilight is at least well-written and interesting.

After thinking this all through, I did a quick search of the relationship between the two novels on the internet. My reading suggests that Fifty Shades might actually have begun its life as fan fiction related to twilight. Wow. I thought there was a relationship there.

Too bad it didn't begin AND END its life as fan fiction. From what my partner told me, Fifty Shades does not deserve to see the light.

Hermione would never tear a page from a book!

Sometimes I worry I'm too picky when I'm spotting problems in the Harry Potter novels, especially the early ones. I mean, no writer is perfect and, especially in novels aimed at children, we shouldn't expect the story to make perfect sense to an adult every step of they way.

So I try to tell myself to back off, give J.K. a break, the benefit of the doubt.

But I still can't get past the fact that, in The Chamber of Secrets, Rowling has Hermione tear part of a page out of an old library book and carry the scrap around with her. It bothered me the first time I read the book - I remember saying to myself, "Wait a minute, the Hermione I know would never damage a valuable old book like that!" - and it still bothers me now.

The Hermione I know loves books so much that she would never purposely damage one, not to mention an old and valuable one owned by her school. Remember how scandalised Hermione was in The Half-Blood Prince when she saw Harry tearing apart his new potions text? She was outraged.

And yet we're supposed to believe that, just over three years earlier, that same young woman would have gone into the Library, taken an ancient reference book down from the shelf and ripped a part of a page out of it? No way. Our Hermione would have copied the short section she wanted onto her own piece of parchment, noted the title, author and publication date of the book from which the information came, and returned the book carefully to its place on the shelf.

I think, to be honest, that this little issue is an example of how, in the early novels, Rowling didn't quite have as clear and settled an understanding of her characters as she would have when she wrote the later novels.

And it's also an interesting demonstration of how sometimes the readers of a series of novels feel they've gotten to know the characters very well very quickly, so much so that they are willing to challenge the actions of those characters in the novels when such actions don't match their understanding of the character.