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Jul. 14th, 2010 10:54 pmWhy is it so goddamn hard to get my butt out the door and do something that I know I need to do for my sanity?? Given free time this evening, despite my virtuous intentions, have I gone to the studio? Why, no, I've re-read Harry Potter books and surfed the internets.
I did order a new book of Ursula Le Guin essays, though - Cheek by Jowl: Talks & Essays on How & Why Fantasy Matters - which apparently includes some discussion of children's books, and which I am totally looking forward to reading. Her perspective on fantasy makes for an interesting companion to HP, actually. She's said about HP that "it seemed a lively kid's fantasy crossed with a 'school novel', good fare for its age group, but stylistically ordinary, imaginatively derivative, and ethically rather mean-spirited."
Now, I love Harry Potter. This is the third time, I think, that I'm re-reading the whole series, not counting all the times I re-read the early books before the release of each of the later installments. The last complaint I think is valid; the other two, though, I would argue with, because I don't know that I agree with her ideas of what kids' books should be.
I don't think there is any great sin in being derivative or formulaic as long as you do it well; what's wrong with a cracking good school novel? Yes, the HP plots have a certain dependable shape to them, with the school-year timeline, the maddening mystery, and the eventual reveal where all the pieces snap neatly into place before everyone goes home. This means you can predict that the good guys will win, that there will eventually be a big reveal, etc. I'm reminded of a point I ran across during my edjimication - sometimes it's not so important that you know what will happen; the suspense is in how it happens. It's the twists and turns and complications that make HP plots so much fun. That and the stew of random clever goofiness and classical references tossed in between the lines.
As far as style goes, I find I disagree with her rarefied standards for this, particularly when it comes to kids' books. I will grant that Elfland is not Poughkeepsie. But I think there's something to be said for books that kids will actually read. You have to draw the line somewhere, of course - Goosebumps books were very popular, but they weren't even composed in coherent sentences - but I know that when I was a kid, A Wizard of Earthsea, for instance, was one of those books the teacher was always bugging you to read because it was Good Literature and A Classic. As it turns out, the teachers were right, but at the time that book was deadly boring precisely because of its style; it wasn't until my 20s that I could appreciate it. The people I know who loved those books as kids were reading adult novels anyway. I don't know that Good Literature and a good book are necessarily one and the same, particularly for kids, and particularly in genre fiction (where by genre I mean a formula construct like "school novel"). Even where I actually liked Classics of Good Literature as a kid, these were books that surprised me with their depth when I returned to them as an adult. Maybe I was just a literal-minded kid, but high style and thematic awesomeness simply went over my head, and in this I think I was not alone. Immediacy is really key to engaging most kids' attention, I think, and a literary affectation that's used to create distance isn't, for the most part, going to fly very well with them.
What does bother me about HP is the tendency of its characters to blithely manipulate their friends, e.g. Hagrid, or for the narrator to make these friends objects of ridicule. Yes, I see a certain mean-spiritedness in it. And on a more philosophical level, I don't like HP's approach to evil. Le Guin has this brilliant essay about Tolkien, pointing out the doubling of characters - that everyone has a shadow: elves/orcs; Gandalf/Saruman; Aragorn/Boromir; Theoden/Wormtongue; Frodo/Gollum. And that we are not asked to hate Gollum, but rather to pity him, and that while pity may not redeem Gollum, he is still the one who accomplishes the quest in the end. The first earthsea book similarly presents the shadow as the "enemy within" (as I've mentioned before I find the earthsea treatment of the shadow brilliant, and often spooky, but kind of academic; intellectually but not emotionally engaging).
HP likewise sets up Voldemort as Harry's shadow, noting their similar backgrounds, their similar powers, the magical bond between them, what sets them apart, and their prophesied fate. And in the end, Harry is moved with pity for what remains of Tom Riddle - the suffering baby he encounters in the afterlife "way station". But Dumbledore says there's nothing he can do...and as he and Dumbledore talk, Harry finds it easier and easier to ignore the whimpers of the "flayed thing". I found that really disturbing even on first reading (and kudos for making it creepy, but it was also creepy in a way that I doubt was intended). It seems that the implication, in the end, is that your shadow is something to hate and destroy; pity is admirable but ineffectual.
I did order a new book of Ursula Le Guin essays, though - Cheek by Jowl: Talks & Essays on How & Why Fantasy Matters - which apparently includes some discussion of children's books, and which I am totally looking forward to reading. Her perspective on fantasy makes for an interesting companion to HP, actually. She's said about HP that "it seemed a lively kid's fantasy crossed with a 'school novel', good fare for its age group, but stylistically ordinary, imaginatively derivative, and ethically rather mean-spirited."
Now, I love Harry Potter. This is the third time, I think, that I'm re-reading the whole series, not counting all the times I re-read the early books before the release of each of the later installments. The last complaint I think is valid; the other two, though, I would argue with, because I don't know that I agree with her ideas of what kids' books should be.
I don't think there is any great sin in being derivative or formulaic as long as you do it well; what's wrong with a cracking good school novel? Yes, the HP plots have a certain dependable shape to them, with the school-year timeline, the maddening mystery, and the eventual reveal where all the pieces snap neatly into place before everyone goes home. This means you can predict that the good guys will win, that there will eventually be a big reveal, etc. I'm reminded of a point I ran across during my edjimication - sometimes it's not so important that you know what will happen; the suspense is in how it happens. It's the twists and turns and complications that make HP plots so much fun. That and the stew of random clever goofiness and classical references tossed in between the lines.
As far as style goes, I find I disagree with her rarefied standards for this, particularly when it comes to kids' books. I will grant that Elfland is not Poughkeepsie. But I think there's something to be said for books that kids will actually read. You have to draw the line somewhere, of course - Goosebumps books were very popular, but they weren't even composed in coherent sentences - but I know that when I was a kid, A Wizard of Earthsea, for instance, was one of those books the teacher was always bugging you to read because it was Good Literature and A Classic. As it turns out, the teachers were right, but at the time that book was deadly boring precisely because of its style; it wasn't until my 20s that I could appreciate it. The people I know who loved those books as kids were reading adult novels anyway. I don't know that Good Literature and a good book are necessarily one and the same, particularly for kids, and particularly in genre fiction (where by genre I mean a formula construct like "school novel"). Even where I actually liked Classics of Good Literature as a kid, these were books that surprised me with their depth when I returned to them as an adult. Maybe I was just a literal-minded kid, but high style and thematic awesomeness simply went over my head, and in this I think I was not alone. Immediacy is really key to engaging most kids' attention, I think, and a literary affectation that's used to create distance isn't, for the most part, going to fly very well with them.
What does bother me about HP is the tendency of its characters to blithely manipulate their friends, e.g. Hagrid, or for the narrator to make these friends objects of ridicule. Yes, I see a certain mean-spiritedness in it. And on a more philosophical level, I don't like HP's approach to evil. Le Guin has this brilliant essay about Tolkien, pointing out the doubling of characters - that everyone has a shadow: elves/orcs; Gandalf/Saruman; Aragorn/Boromir; Theoden/Wormtongue; Frodo/Gollum. And that we are not asked to hate Gollum, but rather to pity him, and that while pity may not redeem Gollum, he is still the one who accomplishes the quest in the end. The first earthsea book similarly presents the shadow as the "enemy within" (as I've mentioned before I find the earthsea treatment of the shadow brilliant, and often spooky, but kind of academic; intellectually but not emotionally engaging).
HP likewise sets up Voldemort as Harry's shadow, noting their similar backgrounds, their similar powers, the magical bond between them, what sets them apart, and their prophesied fate. And in the end, Harry is moved with pity for what remains of Tom Riddle - the suffering baby he encounters in the afterlife "way station". But Dumbledore says there's nothing he can do...and as he and Dumbledore talk, Harry finds it easier and easier to ignore the whimpers of the "flayed thing". I found that really disturbing even on first reading (and kudos for making it creepy, but it was also creepy in a way that I doubt was intended). It seems that the implication, in the end, is that your shadow is something to hate and destroy; pity is admirable but ineffectual.
