In Which I Offer Explanation, and Then Try to Make the Best of It.

So.

Some of you may know that I have been making a concerted effort to write regularly in this blog. You might also know that of late, my efforts have been focused on re-reading the Harry Potter series and then talking nonsensically about it.

Now, in case you don't know (and since only about four of you read this, and you ALL already know), I have been very ill of late. Like, almost three weeks out-of-work, unable to stand up for more than two minutes at a time ill. Blood work suggests some hell mixture of Mono, Lyme Disease and Fifth's Disease, which was then closely followed by a run-in with Thrush.

Have you ever watched Meet Me in St. Louis? It's among my fave movies. And in it, the little girl Tootie talks about how her doll has "four fatal diseases." My diseases are nowhere near fatal, but rather are somewhere in the "moderately debilitating" arena. However, I have been known to announce to Boy Scout over the past few weeks that I have four fatal diseases, and he has to be nice to me. Not that he was being mean. He was very, very nice to me during my run-in with the Plague.

THE GOOD THING ABOUT HAVING FOUR FATAL DISEASES: Well, when one can physically do nothing more than lie in bed, one tends to get things done that need to get done. Within 48 hours I had finished the Harry Potter series, and then went on to watch True Blood (season two), Parenthood (season one), Flight of the Concords (season one), Supernatural (season one and half of season two), and other various assorted episodes of Shows That I Needed to Catch Up On.

THE BAD THING ABOUT HAVING FOUR FATAL DISEASES: Concentration levels become nonexistent. On no less than three separate occasions I tried to write about finishing Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (I even went back and re-re-read the last 250 pages, hoping it would re-energize me) and came up with a rather incoherent set of paragraphs about the ecstatic climax to one of the great all-time fantasy series. Yeah, I went there. And if you have a problem, you can go read elsewhere.

As much as it pains me to finish reading without reaching any grand and far-reaching analysis, at this point (three weeks later), it seems a little... done. I simply finished it so long ago that I can't muster more than passing enthusiasm to delve back into the last dark and twisty caper of one Harry Potter.

And so, painfully, I offer a couple of bullet points on the issue:
* The return to Godric's Hollow is simply haunting to me. It's odd that it never occurs to Harry to return until the end of book six/beginning of book seven. Again, he probably isn't mature enough before that to realize that it's the missing piece of the puzzle, but seeing the graves of Lily and James (and noting that the Harry Potter books were actually published *after* the end of the series on the real-life timeline... curious) kills me. Every damn time.
* Severus Snape is the hero of the Harry Potter novels. I mean, Harry is the hero of the Harry Potter novels, but I think an argument could be made that Snape is even more crucial and courageous than even Albus Dumbledore. And Harry's final recognition of that also kills me. Every damn time.
* Once again, Rowling astounds with the revelation and expansion of a few well-placed details (Dumbledore v. Grindelwald as noted in the first book, the identity of the Hog's Head barman, the location of the Black locket, the mysterious female Hogwarts ghost, etc.) proves her genius and superiority to... others.

* The death of Dobby the House Elf makes me cry more than the death of Albus Dumbledore. Fact. I might even start crying about it right now.

* The Epilogue (which my brother insists on disparaging at every possible opportunity) to me is perfect, though I would have liked to know what happened to every single surviving person in the series. Fingers crossed for the sort-of promised encyclopedia containing the names of every child born to the Weasley family after the Battle of Hogwarts.

OK. Again, apologies for... being ill. I also managed to read the new(est) Tessa Dare, and to re-read Honor's Splendour, one of my Julie Garwood forever-keepers. Maybe I'll write about those tomorrow. If you're nice.

In Which Harry Faces the Beginning of the End

It's funny to read the beginning of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, which opens with a chapter entitled "The Other Minister." The "other" minister, depending on your point of view, is either the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, or the Minister of Magic. What's funniest to me is the reflections of the Muggle Prime Minster, who seems to know more than anyone how much of a screw-up Cornelius Fudge is.

When the Muggle Minister first comes to office, Fudge introduces himself with the promise that this should be the only time they meet, ever. Then he has to come and announce the escape of Sirius Black from Azkaban. Then he has to come explain the Death Eater incident at the Quidditch World Cup (and to clear the dragon import for the TriWizard Tournament). Then he has to come back and admit that Voldemort has returned. Then he has to come and announce that he has been forced to resign his post. Obviously.

The Half Blood Prince is one of the shorter of the "later" books, though it is certainly the heaviest, steeped as it is in teenage pheromones. This is the book in which the kids truly cross over from being children to young adults, with Ron and Hermione fighting their mutual attraction tooth and nail (unsuccessfully), and the "beast" in Harry's chest awakening to recognize his love for Ginny.

Because of a nasty virus, I was able to read The Half Blood Prince and The Deathly Hallows quickly and back-to-back, literally picking up one and then the other. This made a big difference in my perception of the sixth book, because clarity on the actions of so many of the characters came (relatively) quickly as well. Snape's screaming at Harry that he (Snape) is not a coward, for example, is far more laden with meaning when you know the truth of Snape's motives, and also when you can follow up so quickly with just how much of a coward he is not.

The most important part of The Half Blood Prince, especially looking forward to The Deathly Hallows, is Harry's evolving relationship with Albus Dumbledore. At the end of book five, following the disastrous events at the Ministry and the failed Occlumency lessons with Snape, Dumbledore apologizes to Harry and confesses two things, one of which Harry had suspected, and one of which Harry had not: yes, Dumbledore had been avoiding him out of fear that The Dark Lord would use his psychic connection to Harry against him. But more importantly, Dumbledore was afraid that the psychic connection would give Voldemort insight into exactly how much Dumbledore cares for Harry.

And so The Half Blood Prince features a much more intensive set of interactions between Harry and Dumbledore, beginning with Albus' appearance on Privet Drive to deliver Harry to the Burrow and continuing down into the Pensieve to discover the origins and secrets of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Of course, the end of the story is the most important, and the most resonant. We learn the secret of the Horcruxes, as well as the existence of the locket, a locket not the Horcrux, with a note inside signed "R.A.B." And, most importantly, Severus Snape kills Albus Dumbledore.

I remember the first time I read this, I felt betrayed, bewildered, and not a little confused. Snape, after all, was someone Dumbledore trusted implicitly, and who Dumbledore defended, literally to the death. His final words, begging for mercy, were some of the hardest I have ever read. That is, until my mother pointed out that to her, it didn't sound like Dumbledore was pleading for his life. She thought it sounded like he was asking for Severus to complete a mission.

The Phoenix laments, the tomb is sealed, and the final journey begins. Harry breaks from Ginny, which is hard but ultimately right, and Ron and Hermione state unequivocally that they are "in." On to The Deathly Hallows.

In Which I Finally Finish Harry Potter #5

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is not one of my favorites. It’s certainly not my least favorite, but there is a certain whiny-ness to Harry that is simply not attractive.

In fact, a lot of people spend a lot of time whining in the fifth edition. Sirius is trapped inside his ancestral home with no one but an insane house elf to keep him company. And he whines about it. Ron is recruited as Keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team despite the fact that he’s not the best player anyone has ever seen. And he whines about it. Harry is being treated by the rest of the world like a delusional psychopath for announcing that Voldemort has risen again. And you better believe he whines about it.

It has taken me two weeks to finish The Order of the Phoenix for various reasons, but mostly because this volume is incredibly frustrating when it comes to making actual plotline progress in the saga.

Dolores Umbridge is the sort of person who you wish fervent death upon from the moment she appears at Harry’s Misuse of Magic trial in the beginning of the book. The fact that she is soon designated as Hogwarts High Inquisitor and later Headmaster is ludicrous-- and frighteningly close to what would happen in a similar real-life political situation.

The sheer idiocy of those running the Ministry of Magic is confounding-- not unlike the idiocy of those running general government organizations. They believe what is convenient (Voldemort is not back and everything is fine... including leaving the Dementors in charge of Azkaban), they spread lies that best suit their political motives (Albus Dumbledore is trying to discredit Cornelius Fudge in order to place himself in line to be Minister of Magic), and they blame the wrong people for the wrong things (Harry Potter is an attention starved douchecanoe who is so used to being the center of attention that he cannot stand having the spotlight turned elsewhere).

Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes is a highpoint in the book, with Fred and George themselves presiding over one of the finest moments in Hogwarts’ history. Their triumphant exit from the main hall in the wake of their great portable swamp charade, when they promptly announce that they’ve had enough of higher education, summon their brooms from lockup, and ask Peeves to be sure and give Umbridge hell on their behalf is the stuff of legend. In what is certainly the only time he has taken orders from anyone, Peeves complies wholeheartedly.

But of course, we must come to the darker things afoot and the progress that is made in the saga of Harry and those fighting the Dark Lord.

We begin with Severus Snape, who we see for the first time as a sympathetic young man who, while being admittedly douche-y to people in general, is no more asking for the trouble given him by James and Sirius than Harry asks Malfoy for his constant and unending antagonism. We also have our first glimpse at his relationship with Lily, as Snape’s worst memory reveals her attempts to defend him against the bullies. This is not the last time we will see this scene, but it is the defining moment in the James-Lily-Severus triangle: Snape calls Lily a Mudblood, and loses her forever.

As I’ve said before, the Harry books grow with their audience, and Harry for the first time has the painful realization that his idolized parents, while wonderful people, were not perfect and did not always do wonderful things. The scene where James Potter bullies Snape is indeed disturbing, and Harry’s reaction of questioning whether he even wants to be compared to his father anymore is wise and filled with mature perspective. However, the guidance and opinion he gets when he is finally able to talk to Sirius and Lupin is also filled with wisdom: Yes, we were idiots, and who isn’t? But no. Your dad was not a hideous human being. At least, not any more than any other fifteen year old.

(I think it’s important too, to say that Harry does not have the luxury of becoming a bully- he’s got far more important things to worry about than what his school rivals are thinking or saying or doing at any given time... he might not ever be able to relate to this aspect of his father, or indeed anyone)

And we finally have acknowledgement by Rowling, through the voice of Albus Dumbledore, that the reading audience is ready to hear what has been kept from them for five books (five Harry Potter years), and close to seven real-life years (by way of book release dates). Voldemort came to Godric’s Hollow on that fateful night fifteen years ago to dispose of a baby who had been prophesied as a threat to his power.

Beyond the fact that he did not know the entire prophecy (and what kind of idiot acts without hearing the whole thing firsthand? I ask you), clearly Voldemort has never read Oedipus Rex. There were two babies born at the end of the seventh month that year to parents who had thrice defied him- one was Harry Potter, the other was Neville Longbottom.

The very act of choosing Harry as the baby to destroy is the one that sealed their fates forever. As Dumbledore confirmed, Harry was probably selected because his most closely resembled Voldemort’s own origins, as they were both half-bloods. Had Voldemort not acted, nothing would have occurred, and the prophecy would not have come true. But that’s not how these things work, is it? Of course Voldemort was going to act. And of course the story was never going to end up anywhere other than where it is now.

So now the second war is upon us. Voldemort revealed himself within the Ministry, Fudge was forced to admit that he had returned, and we’re ready for the warnings to The Other Minister that open Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

Final notes: the locket in Grimauld Place that wouldn’t open (ahhhhh!), and the barman at the Hog’s Head who looks vaguely familiar (HOLY CRAP MARIE). Dear Stephenie Meyer: This is how you build a series.

In Which Harry Potter Wins the Tri-Wizard Tournament

Cedric Diggory is dead.

As far as momentous deaths go, this one is stunning in its lack of ceremony or preamble. A simply hissed "Kill the spare" and a muttered death curse, and the handsome, intelligent, nice, bland Hufflepuff hero drops to the ground like a stone. Within the hour Voldemort rises and the second war begins.

The death of Diggory, I think, was meant to shock on a number of levels. As previously rambled in this blog, his death is the opening salvo of the "yes, this is a real and dangerous war, and people you know and love will die." Granted, we hadn't known Cedric that long, but we knew enough about him to know he was a genuinely good person, even if he was a touch boring and his dad was really, really obnoxious.

To kill someone so suddenly, with no compunction and no remorse, is standard Lord Voldemort. We have been told throughout the first four books that at the height of his power, He Who Must Not Be Named committed atrocities against innocents, and genuinely reigned terror on the wizarding populace. The death of Cedric Diggory is the first time this has directly affected one of our heroes, and is the first death in the "next generation" of those fighting the Dark Lord. In the words of Albus Dumbledore, "remember Cedric Diggory."

The Goblet of Fire is a book I often discount, but for reasons I can never remember when I'm actually reading it. As stated ad nauseum, this is the first "grown up" book, filled with Dark Marks and Death Eaters, government conspiracies and cover-ups, and an emotional family reunion that makes me cry every damn time. No matter how much it is mocked by Boy Scout.

While the Tri-Wizard Tournament was diverting and exciting (as is the Quidditch World Cup) none of that could match building tension, layer upon layer, beginning with the disappearance of Bertha Jorkins (who I think I referred to as Jenkins previously... I apologize) and the death of Frank the gardener (another wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time incident) and ending when Wormtail carries the world's most disturbing "baby" to the foot of Tom Riddle's grave. Nasty, creepy, and oh so wonderful.

I also have to mention again (again) the brilliance of J.K. Rowling and her writing. And her planning. And everything about her. Albus Dumbledore is speaking to someone in Goblet of Fire, and he tells them about a room that he stumbled on when he took a wrong turn to the restroom, a room in the castle he had never seen before, a room full of chamber pots. At the time, Dumbledore muses about whether he will find the room again, whether it only appears on the quarter moon, on Wednesdays, to people who really have to go, etc. Diehards, however, will note that Dumbledore is making the first mention of the Room of Requirement in the series. More of this ohholycrap awesomeness to come in The Order of the Phoenix.

On a scale of one to extremely excited, I am extremely excited to have reached the fever pitch of this series. No more messing around with spirits and apparitions, and people who-may-or-may-not be trying to kill Harry after they've escaped from Azkaban. From now on, we're all in.

A Statement About the Third Book in My Marathon

I don't know about you, but I forgot how fast the Harry Potter books are to read. Of course, the first three are the shortest, but that is neither here nor there.

Ah, The Prisoner of Azkaban. Let's all agree right now that this book is where the saga begins. The Sorcerer's Stone is the beginning; The Chamber of Secrets is a time-burner and back-story filler; The Prisoner of Azkaban begins the rise of Voldemort.

A lot of retrospective pieces of interest, not the least of which is Professor Trelawney's second real prediction. In an under-mentioned creepy, creepy moment in the series, the fortune-telling ding-bat has a genuine moment of sight in the middle of Harry's Divination final exam. She predicts the rise of the Dark Lord following the return of his most loyal that very night. When Harry relates this incident to Dumbledore at the end of the story, Dumbledore lets drop that this is the second time Professor Trelawney made a legitimate prediction.

It's not until later that we learn her other prediction was the reason Voldemort came to Godric's Hollow to murder Harry Potter in the first place.

Meeting key players in the coming events is at once exhilarating and sad, knowing what is to come for them. When Remus Lupin stood up to ward off the Dementor on the Hogwart's Express, all I could do was hear small voices saying "Teddy Lupin is kissing our cousin!!" When Cedric Diggory comes over to admire Harry's Firebolt, all I could think of was "the wrong place at the wrong time". And when Cornelius Fudge met Harry outside of the Leaky Cauldron, all I could think was "you raging Douchecanoe."

We also see the beginning of Harry In Isolation, as he starts to get cut-off from people based purely on his own experiences. No one can know what he experiences when he's near the Dementors. No one knows the relief he feels to learn that there is a whole network of people out there, friends of his parents, who care deeply about his well-being. While occasionally whiney, Harry is also a very singular boy to whom not a lot of living people can relate. The Prisoner of Azkaban is the first time we start to see this build thematically.

So what happens in the end? Of course the servant escapes to rejoin his master, though the servant turns out not to be the man we suspected all along. And where does The Goblet of Fire begin? With the servant and his master in the Riddle mansion in central England, talking about the murder of poor Bertha Jenkins.

And with that... on to the Quidditch World Cup! (Appropriate, no? From one Cup to the other...)

In Which Harry Stabs a Big-Ass Basilisk with an Awesome Sword

What did I tell you?

If I'm being honest, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets is the weakest link in the series for me (This is not to say in any way that it is bad. It is just not the best book. By far). We're over the introductions, but the sinister-ness hasn't started to build yet (see: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban), and we're still trying to establish a solid villain. Literally.

However, in retrospect, there are a number of things that make Chamber of Secrets an essential volume. While Prisoner of Azkaban brings things away from the new rise of Voldemort and focuses on the events leading to the night of his demise, Chamber of Secrets goes back to the beginning, and shows the origins of the boy who became unnameable.

Tom Riddle, inhabitant of the diary that possesses Ginny Weasley, is of course the teenage incarnation of the Dark Lord. In his interaction with Harry in the Chamber, Tom reveals his roots: he was born of the last descendant of Salazar Slytherin and a Muggle who didn't know what he was getting into until after he had married and impregnated the witch living on his estate (full disclosure: we don't know the nature of their relationship until later books.)

Once again we see the pieces of detail being planted for later, and we see the extent to which certain people have been involved in past events: Dumbledore's role at Hogwarts before becoming Headmaster, confirmation of the Malfoys' full allegiance to Voldemort, etc.

We also get to know Fawkes and the hidden power of the Sorting Hat, as well as becoming familiar with the Basilisk and all of its terrible powers.

I just started reading Prisoner of Azkaban and it is twelve kinds of awesome. While being an excellent book to begin with (so much mis-direction! so many layers!) it is also as though you can feel the momentum gathering for the coming storm. And what a storm it is.

In Which We Talk About Harry Potter

Let me start by saying that if you've been living under a rock and are wary of Harry Potter spoilers, you might want to read on with caution. Let me also say that this is going to be an ongoing discussion due to my current "Harry Potter Marathon."

Disclosure disclosed? Awesome.

While I am sure that there are better fantasy series than Harry Potter (I'm not well read enough in that arena to have a properly formed opinion), I have a hard time believing that Harry doesn't at least rank in the top 10. Also, though I read Twilight and was enamored of it for a bit (before I really, really thought about what I had read), and I cannot argue its place in pop culture, I want to be very clear that there is no competition between Harry and Twilight. None. Not in quality of writing, not in quality of ideas, not in staying power over time. Saying that Twilight is in the same league as Harry Potter is like saying the Backstreet Boys belong in a conversation about the Beatles. It's just not going to happen.

Now that that's out of the way (you really don't want to get me started on a Twilight rant), I can say that over the weekend and to the consternation of Boy Scout, I finished Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.

Firstly, I was struck by the fact that, at the time I first read it (I was... 15? Maybe?), I thought Sorcerer's Stone was AMAZING. And it is. But it's almost laughable to read it now, knowing all of the amazingness that is to come. It's a light, almost breezy read filled with clues (Sirius Black leant Hagrid his motorcycle! Harry doesn't like hanging out with his scary cat lady neighbor! AHHHHHH), and it is most definitely "the introductory book." (Note to Stephenie Meyer: the books are supposed to get better as you go along. Not worse. See?)

It also struck me while reading The Sorcerer's Stone, and not for the first time, that the books mature with Harry. Now I'm not saying that J.K Rowling in any way dumbs down her language or her imagery or her writing for younger readers. What I'm saying is that the things that happen to 12-year-old Harry are scary and dangerous, but not too scary and dangerous for a 12-year-old. Rowling did an excellent job of growing the conflicts along with Harry. There are some emotional and traumatic events that occur in the first three books, but it's not until (SPOILER ALERT?) the death of Cedric Diggory that Rowling makes it known that all bets are off. Yes, these are ostensibly children's books. And no, thank you. There will be no punches pulled.

Part of the beautiful world that J.K. Rowling created in Potterverse is the fact there are consequences (I'm looking at you again, Ms. Meyer!). However, Rowling is kind enough not to force adult situations on a child who is just learning about who he is. Literally.

I would also like to say a word about Snape in this book (SPOILER ALERT for Boy Scout, apparently. However, I shall try to speak obliquely). His role is actually very minimal in this book, when you look at it. From the beginning he is trying to save Harry's life (remember Quirrel and the Quidditch match?) and from the very beginning, there is not a single person who thinks Snape is a danger to Harry. Of course it can't be said that he doesn't hold malice toward the boy, but it's sort of heart-breaking to know how the Snape felt about Lily Potter, and to see him do everything in his power to keep her son safe... whether he wants to or not. And it's Dumbledore himself who confirms for the first time that Snape was in school with James Potter (he makes no mention of Lily) and that "they hated each other." To me this deepens Snape's heroism-- nothing he did was for James or for Harry themselves. It was all for Lily.

So maybe that wasn't so oblique after all. Sorry, Scout.

Going back to a previous point, this speaks further to Rowling's abilities as a writer. She knew, even in the first book, that there was more to the greasey potions master than met the eye. But she knew that neither Harry nor his contemporary readers wanted or needed to see the man behind the curtain. That was for later, when everyone was ready.

(This is where I could talk about how knowing the end of your story at the beginning and planting seeds of growth along the way is a sign of a superior story-teller, but I won't go there. No. I won't. I won't say that adding details in the last 50 pages to lend relevence to your ending is lame. Nope. Won't do it... Shit.)

I guess I'm done for now. Be sure and come back next time for "In Which Harry Stabs a Big-Ass Basilisk with an Awesome Sword." No innuendo intended.

In Which I Take a Little Break From the Romance

Hello, friends.

So things don't seem to be getting any quieter or easier or simpler. Which is all fine (no complaints!), however it is not conducive to an environment in which I read a lot of books and then write about them. But whatever, I'm trying.

And with that I have a somewhat startling announcement to make: I'm skipping the romance novels for the moment. I started the much-awaited Tessa Dare sequel, and it's good. Really good so far, even. But then I made the mistake of watching the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows trailer. Not really a mistake, because the movie looks shockingly good (I have not been entirely impressed by them so far), and inspired me to do something I like to do every-so-often, and that is to sit down and read Harry from the beginning. I recommend it, it's pretty awesome.

Perhaps part of the reason I need a bit of a detox is because I indulged in some of my romance crack, and now I need some time alone to think about what a mistake it was, and what I should be doing with my life.

It started at Smart Bitches (doesn't it always?) and it started with this article about book crack. Come on, you know you have it. The stuff that's so bad you just have to read it. It provides a kind of morbid comfort in the fact it always remains the same: bad.

I have a couple of book cracks. At this point anything by J.R. Ward largely qualifies, and as we know, I have a shameful yen for Sandra Brown's back catalog of genre-romances. My my real, true downfall is Diana Palmer.

I've talked before about how formuliac her books are. But now I'd like to put more emphasis on how ridiculous her characters are. Ready? OK: The heroine (I completely forget her name) is a widow, convinced she contributed to her alcoholic asshole husband's death because she didn't like having sex with him. No, I'm not joking.

Then there's the whole "I've been in love with my best friend's older brother since I was 14, but he just thinks we're friends" thing. See, normally you would prescribe a glass of wine and an honest conversation for such problems, but the heroine doesn't drink. And while acknowledging that the first drink for anyone is affecting, I don't think a comforting half a glass of Scotch leads to seriously impaired judgement and a world-class hangover.

This is all to say nothing of the sexorrating which involves (wait for it...) a half-virgin widow. This, my friends, is much better than a virgin widow. A virgin widow at least never had sex with her husband (for whatever reason that she's too traumatized to tell even the omniscient narrator). A half-virgin widow, on the other hand, seems to exist for the sole purpose of giving the misogynist hero something to gloat over quite aside from giving the poor thing her first orgasm.

What is a half-virgin widow, you ask? I have no frakking idea. All I know is that the poor bastard husband must have been hung like a Ken doll. Literally.

Now, is it any wonder I need to take a break and read some quality writing? No. I didn't think so.