Tuesday, July 24, 2007

The value of Harry Potter

Whenever I ask one of my peers if they have read the Harry Potter books, I often hear derision in their response. "That's not my kind of book," they say, or else: "I think all the attention is silly;" "It's stupid that people are so obsessed about it;" and "I'm not really into fantasy or children's books." To distort things further, many apologists of the series have defended it by proclaiming how "dark" the later books became, as if an element of darkness in the story suddenly makes it better or more worthwhile. Overall, Harry Potter's story has been publicly resolved into trends--and the trend one happens to follow (the fantasy component, the incredible popularity, disapproval of popular things, "darkness," etc.) determines one's response to the stories. All of this obscures the actual point of J.K. Rowling's books.

(The following discussion contains "spoilers".)

The story of Harry Potter, told in seven separate books, is essentially a fairy tale. Like most fairy tales, there is a wondrous or magical element to the setting, though (also like most fairy tales) the setting is familiar to us readers. As a fairy tale, the story isn't particularly dark: it can be scary and sad, but the goodness of the main characters glows throughout as they struggle to do the right thing in each book and mostly succeed. There is no question that their situation becomes more dire from book to book, as the evil they're fighting gets stronger in proportion to their increasing maturity. In fact, rather than "dark" the books simply get more adult in theme and content--though never "adult" in the negative, pornographic sense. The much-talked about deaths of several "main characters" along the way simply add a dimension of tragedy, a reminder that Harry and his friends are struggling against forces that are in fact very dangerous and cruel.

In a literal sense, the series is a tour de force. J.K. Rowling did a great job of tying up loose ends from the main plot and all the sub-plots. Her theme of Love comes to full fruition in the final book with Harry's willingness to die for his loved ones (much like his mother's similar willingness seventeen years before--which, incidentally, started the storyline). Though it was terribly sad that Tonks and Lupin and Dobby and Fred died--I was especially stricken when Colin Creevey, the youngster who irritatingly worshipped Harry in The Goblet of Fire, died after staying to fight, even though he was underage--the tragedy was more than balanced by the redemption of certain characters. Finally, the series ended as all fairy tales do, with a "happily ever after." To be sure, I wanted more detail about Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione, and their children...but really, just knowing that they were still friends, still happy together, and moving on in their lives was enough to satisfy me that the hurts of Voldemort had been healed. And that was the point, wasn't it? Harry was always just looking to be normal and happy.

Morally, the stories are very clear. The children--especially the three main characters--constantly attempt to be good in the face of obstacles, which take the form of temptations to selfishness, direct threats on their life, and cruelly adolescent students. Though their efforts seem at times pointless or futile, in each book they (in some measure) succeed. More importantly, Rowling avoids the literary cliche of a "chosen one" by explaining very carefully at the end of the sixth book that it is Harry's choice to face up to Voldemort. That choice is not thrust upon Harry as the result of inscrutable fate or an exalted destiny, but (rather unfortunately) by Voldemort's own obsession and misunderstanding. And for his part Harry consistently chooses--at least once each book--to face up to Voldemort, instead of trying to avoid it all or giving up. In fact, it is partly Harry's determination to confront Voldemort throughout the first books that fuels Voldemort's frightening focus on Harry in the final books. Underneath all these larger plot points, however, is the constant Love that unites Harry and his friends. Their continual success against Voldemort is directly attributable to their combined efforts, which doesn't spring so much from a shared purpose as their constant, unselfish friendship. In the end, it is only Harry's decision to give his life for his friends that makes it possible for him to finally defeat Voldemort. Literally and figuratively, it is Love that conquers the death, fear, and despair that threaten Harry and his friends throughout the series.

Rowling also deals heavily in the theme of redemption, which surfaces quietly in the early books--think how Sirius redeems his aggressively dark family through his friendship both with Harry's father and Harry himself--and becomes inescapable in the last. With the exception of Voldemort himself (and his particularly evil henchmen), every "bad" character to some measure redeems himself--Malfoy, a bully with a particular hatred of Harry, has the grace in the end to turn his back (however halfheartedly) on Voldemort, and to quietly allow Harry to save his life. Percy Weasley, who disowned his family to serve his own ambition, apologizes and returns to their side in the final battle. We learn that Dumbledore, perhaps the most staunchly good character of the entire book, was in fact tempted by Dark Magic early in his life, though he obviously repented early enough to discover Voldemort and set up his demise. But it is in Professor Snape's story that we see the most redemption: the tale of a man who loved Lily so much that he could protect and aid her son even though he looked like James, the man Snape (perhaps) hated most in the world, is touching and powerful. Furthermore, it is clear from Snape's interactions with Dumbledore (seen in the memories he gave Harry immediately prior to his death) that much of his cruelty at Hogwarts was an act to lend verisimilitude to his continued status as a Death Eater--he shows his real colors when he corrects one of his portrait-henchmen at Hogwarts from using the equivalent of a racist epithet: "don't use that word ["mudblood"]!" He aids Harry throughout the series: early on by attempting to foil the curse of an unseen enemy during a quidditch game; then by trying to teach Harry the difficult art of Occlumency; and especially in the last book by sending his patronus to the wood to lead Harry to Gryffindor's sword. Snape was ever a bitter, lonely young man, desperate to fit in and be liked, a tremendously competent wizard, and sorely tempted by Dark Magic--a near perfect prospect for the Death Eaters. Yet he was redeemed by his love of Harry's mother to the point of fighting thanklessly throughout the entire series to protect her son and defeat Voldemort.

The Harry Potter books are ultimately ennobling: by doing the right thing, sticking together, and confronting evil, the three main characters achieve their "happily ever after." But the stories are much richer than a tale of good triumphing over evil. Each one is a cleverly constructed mystery novel, wherein the mundane details of the plot conceal clues to the overarching problem of the novel, and many characters are not what they seem--an example of this is the case of Sirius Black in The Prisoner of Azkaban. Each book (and the series together) is also a bildungsroman, or coming-of-age novel. Harry, Ron, and Hermione (and to a lesser extent Neville, Ginny, and Luna) grow up and become more complete persons as a result of their individual and collaborative response to troubles and threats. Indeed, part of their attraction to us as characters is their endearing and familiar adolescent struggle to like themselves, to gain friends, to fit in, to succeed. Finally, by embedding the magical world in our own, Rowling has underlaid her writing with witty, often amusing, and sometimes devastating satire.

The great questions of humanity include why we exist, what we should do, how we can be happy. In her own way, Rowling has offered an answer to these questions through the Harry Potter books. Along the way, she has crafted seven exciting stories that are introspective, funny, tragic, affirming, and ennobling. Her books, though not as profound, yet stand comparison in some degree to The Chronicles of Narnia, and The Lord of the Rings. Though they may not be to everyone's taste, they certainly don't deserve to be sneered at or pigeonholed. They are a valuable addition to the canon of English literature.