Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Spoilers, obviously)
I've just finished my second readthrough of this book. I went and sat out in the garden at around 11am, sat under a parasol to keep the sun off me. I've been reading it for several weeks now, after my Mum told me she had never read the seventh book and I offered to read it to her on Sunday afternoons. We've been doing this for five weeks now, and yesterday we reached chapter thirty-one, The Battle of Hogwarts. My mum doesn't know Fred's dead yet, we're a couple of pages away. Still, I got home last night and I think I knew I wouldn't be able to wait another week before continuing to go through it with her. I wanted to relive it for myself (I know how foolish this is, with exams all this month, but that should give you some idea of how much this series means to me).
My mum was never too bothered about Harry Potter. I daresay she read the first six books in order to understand what the hell me and Dad were always on about. I think some of the antagonism between my mother and I stems from my frustration with the fact that she has never understood quite what reading (in general, not just Harry Potter), and indeed writing, means to me. She maintains that reading is a pointless activity, it isolates rather than allows you to engage with others. For me, reading IS engaging - all the words on the page have come, ultimately, from someone else's mind, from their imagination, and this to me is both a more intimate and more universal exchange of knowledge and emotion than through conversation. When talking face to face with someone, we may alter what we say according to how we think the other person will react, how proud we are (or, to put it another way, how scared we are of showing our true emotion) and what our general aims are. In writing, this is different. It is an expression of one's thoughts not just to one person, but to many (and in JK Rowling's case, literally millions). It is not entirely untempered, I admit, editorial processes may remove certain aspects, but essentially the same words are delivered around the world. We then take that and our own imaginations, our own experiences shape our reactions to it, in the same way we would during a conversation. So why, then, if you have something to say, not just do a radio broadcast or a recording and broadcast the information globally that way? In the spoken word, the intonation, the emphasis someone places on certain words or phrases will vary according to their interpretation. So reading is a method more personal (in that it has been untainted, largely, by another person's view of it) and more open to interpretation than any other. For me, anyway. I admit that I have never tried to explain this to my mum, fearful as I am of her disagreement - as I am sure many of you may have doubts. Which is fine, I just...sometimes when something is so close to your heart you can't bear to have it questioned.
This is how I felt about the slow disintegration of Dumbledore's reputation throughout this book, both in the first and second read-through. It made me desperately sad to find that the twinkly-eyed, eccentric, wise old Headmaster that I had so looked up to was actually a selfish and - to put it bluntly - manipulative bastard. The Trio's meeting with Aberforth Dumbledore in the Hog's Head (chapter twenty-eight, The Missing Mirror) was a real eye-opener for me, not just because it was humbling to finally hear the truth about Ariana, but because for seven years I'd entirely missed one huge thing about Dumbledore: he was human. Both Harry and I - and I suspect most people who read the series - had put Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore up on a pedestal so high that to watch the fall - years after that fateful night on the top of The Lightning-Struck Tower - is heartbreaking. And, let's face it, a bloody marvellous piece of writing.
Another thing I'd entirely missed on my first read-through back in 2007 was the paths through history of the Hallows - in particularly the Elder Wand. Harry's last revelation before his defeat of Voldemort - that first Draco Malfoy, then he, Harry, was the master of the Elder Wand, not Voldemort, had completely been forgotten about by me and was just as much of a shock the second time around. I had not understood it all. Now I think I get it a little better, but whether I will be able to explain it sufficiently next Sunday remains to be seen.
I couldn't help but be stunned also by how much Harry has changed over the course of these books. With all the reminders to past books layered throughout this one, I can certainly see why JKR says number seven is her favourite. The Chamber of Secrets, Priori Incantatem, the boat trip across the water towards Hogwarts, even Hagrid's little pet dragon Norbert - all the best bits that so captured your imagination when you were a kid fondly remembered in the last few chapters.
Back in 2007, I hated exactly what I'm doing now. Personalizing everything, making it mine, when for all intents and purposes I have no right to. Back in 2007, even before I read the book, I had already begun to drift away from Harry Potter fandom, because quite naturally I had moved on, to shows such as Doctor Who, Torchwood and Life on Mars. But then when I read the book I went running back, desperate to talk about the series with others and never stop talking. When I got there though, there was uproar. Seemingly everywhere I looked, there was disappointment and anger about the ending to the series, in particular the 'Nineteen Years Later' epilogue. Everywhere people were writing "fix-it fic" in order to say how they thought things should have ended, and slagging off the original. I was staggered. After years of excitement and speculation, suddenly all I could see was betrayal. The fans were turning their back on the series right when I had expected they would celebrate. To finally have the answers, resolution, closure for Harry and his friends. Alright, fine, there were deaths that I wished hadn't happened - Lupin, my favourite character* - but I certainly wasn't about to start saying that I hated the book or JKR. Sometimes I think we forget, particularly when our hearts are so invested in something as this, that it was never really our world to begin with, it's hers, and we have to thank her for sharing it with us. And it's a credit to her writing just how many people have identified with that world so strongly that we feel it belongs to us.
And for those of you who are still wondering just why the hell any of this even matters, it's just fiction after all, I leave you with a quote from the great man Dumbledore himself:
'Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?'
*As a side note, this is what happened when I told Mum who my favourite character was:
Me: Since Lupin's my favourite character -
Mum: *visibly shudders* Urgh.
Me: What?
Mum: He's a bit of a strange choice.
Me: Why?
Mum: Well, he's a werewolf, isn't he? *shudders again*
I love you, Mum. *headdesk*
(15:48)
My mum was never too bothered about Harry Potter. I daresay she read the first six books in order to understand what the hell me and Dad were always on about. I think some of the antagonism between my mother and I stems from my frustration with the fact that she has never understood quite what reading (in general, not just Harry Potter), and indeed writing, means to me. She maintains that reading is a pointless activity, it isolates rather than allows you to engage with others. For me, reading IS engaging - all the words on the page have come, ultimately, from someone else's mind, from their imagination, and this to me is both a more intimate and more universal exchange of knowledge and emotion than through conversation. When talking face to face with someone, we may alter what we say according to how we think the other person will react, how proud we are (or, to put it another way, how scared we are of showing our true emotion) and what our general aims are. In writing, this is different. It is an expression of one's thoughts not just to one person, but to many (and in JK Rowling's case, literally millions). It is not entirely untempered, I admit, editorial processes may remove certain aspects, but essentially the same words are delivered around the world. We then take that and our own imaginations, our own experiences shape our reactions to it, in the same way we would during a conversation. So why, then, if you have something to say, not just do a radio broadcast or a recording and broadcast the information globally that way? In the spoken word, the intonation, the emphasis someone places on certain words or phrases will vary according to their interpretation. So reading is a method more personal (in that it has been untainted, largely, by another person's view of it) and more open to interpretation than any other. For me, anyway. I admit that I have never tried to explain this to my mum, fearful as I am of her disagreement - as I am sure many of you may have doubts. Which is fine, I just...sometimes when something is so close to your heart you can't bear to have it questioned.
This is how I felt about the slow disintegration of Dumbledore's reputation throughout this book, both in the first and second read-through. It made me desperately sad to find that the twinkly-eyed, eccentric, wise old Headmaster that I had so looked up to was actually a selfish and - to put it bluntly - manipulative bastard. The Trio's meeting with Aberforth Dumbledore in the Hog's Head (chapter twenty-eight, The Missing Mirror) was a real eye-opener for me, not just because it was humbling to finally hear the truth about Ariana, but because for seven years I'd entirely missed one huge thing about Dumbledore: he was human. Both Harry and I - and I suspect most people who read the series - had put Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore up on a pedestal so high that to watch the fall - years after that fateful night on the top of The Lightning-Struck Tower - is heartbreaking. And, let's face it, a bloody marvellous piece of writing.
Another thing I'd entirely missed on my first read-through back in 2007 was the paths through history of the Hallows - in particularly the Elder Wand. Harry's last revelation before his defeat of Voldemort - that first Draco Malfoy, then he, Harry, was the master of the Elder Wand, not Voldemort, had completely been forgotten about by me and was just as much of a shock the second time around. I had not understood it all. Now I think I get it a little better, but whether I will be able to explain it sufficiently next Sunday remains to be seen.
I couldn't help but be stunned also by how much Harry has changed over the course of these books. With all the reminders to past books layered throughout this one, I can certainly see why JKR says number seven is her favourite. The Chamber of Secrets, Priori Incantatem, the boat trip across the water towards Hogwarts, even Hagrid's little pet dragon Norbert - all the best bits that so captured your imagination when you were a kid fondly remembered in the last few chapters.
Back in 2007, I hated exactly what I'm doing now. Personalizing everything, making it mine, when for all intents and purposes I have no right to. Back in 2007, even before I read the book, I had already begun to drift away from Harry Potter fandom, because quite naturally I had moved on, to shows such as Doctor Who, Torchwood and Life on Mars. But then when I read the book I went running back, desperate to talk about the series with others and never stop talking. When I got there though, there was uproar. Seemingly everywhere I looked, there was disappointment and anger about the ending to the series, in particular the 'Nineteen Years Later' epilogue. Everywhere people were writing "fix-it fic" in order to say how they thought things should have ended, and slagging off the original. I was staggered. After years of excitement and speculation, suddenly all I could see was betrayal. The fans were turning their back on the series right when I had expected they would celebrate. To finally have the answers, resolution, closure for Harry and his friends. Alright, fine, there were deaths that I wished hadn't happened - Lupin, my favourite character* - but I certainly wasn't about to start saying that I hated the book or JKR. Sometimes I think we forget, particularly when our hearts are so invested in something as this, that it was never really our world to begin with, it's hers, and we have to thank her for sharing it with us. And it's a credit to her writing just how many people have identified with that world so strongly that we feel it belongs to us.
And for those of you who are still wondering just why the hell any of this even matters, it's just fiction after all, I leave you with a quote from the great man Dumbledore himself:
'Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?'
*As a side note, this is what happened when I told Mum who my favourite character was:
Me: Since Lupin's my favourite character -
Mum: *visibly shudders* Urgh.
Me: What?
Mum: He's a bit of a strange choice.
Me: Why?
Mum: Well, he's a werewolf, isn't he? *shudders again*
I love you, Mum. *headdesk*
(15:48)