I'm terrible at choosing favorite characters, especially when there are so many I absolutely love, but for quite a while I've set my top 3 in Rowling's world as Hagrid, Dumbledore and Fred and George. I say Fred and George are tied for third place, but really, the two of them together are like one entity. We almost never see them apart from one another. They occupy the same position on the Quidditch team, they go into business with each other, they finish each other's thoughts... everything they do seems to be together. Are there any distinguishing characteristics between them? I've never noticed any; it seems it could always just as easily one talking as the other. I'd say these are brothers who certainly revel in their twin-ness. We've seen them with dates (I think?) but it's kind of hard to imagine them ever getting married because they're so attached at the hip to each other...
They're such scallawags, always into some sort of mischief, but as troublesome as they are, they're never malicious. There's always a twinkle in their eyes and a grin on their faces. No matter how grim the situation, things seem a lot less dismal when they're around; without their presence, Order of the Phoenix would have been very dreary indeed most of the time. Along with their pranks, they're marvelously quick-witted, always with a smart remark at the ready. Their banter reminds me a lot of Hawkeye and Trapper on M*A*S*H. It's just so much fun to read. If only I could tell them apart...
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Previously On LOST...
The LOST folks are way more recap-happy than Rowling, and it makes pretty good sense for the show since it allows people who may not have seen all of the especialy relevant previous episodes to be somewhat up to speed. The highly recommended thing is to watch all the episodes, in order, but that can be really hard to manage (says the girl who just got caught up in January). Of course, it's also nice to have a little reminder, since some of the relevant stuff happened weeks ago.
But with Harry Potter, the previous books are readily available, and there have only been six, so I really wouldn't think that very many people would start on a later volume in the series. If you want to read Harry Potter, you start from the beginning. I'm thinking she doesn't do this much in the fifth and sixth books, but there's quite a bit of recapping in the first four, and most of it is basic stuff that seems to be there just for the purpose of readers starting with a later installment. We certainly aren't going to forget that Harry's an orphan, that he's been forced to live with his dreadful aunt, uncle and cousin, that he survived a direct attack by the evil Voldemort... and on and on. I can understand reading out of order with a lot series, especially that encompass many books or are mostly episodic and stand-alone, but practically from the beginning we have known that this was a seven-part series, that it was one massive saga broken down into seven years. So are there really that many people who pick up the series halfway through, or is all the recapping a little superfluous? I don't really mind, because it's still very well written, and it's not like it's written the exact same way time after time. I just wonder if it's really necessary...
But with Harry Potter, the previous books are readily available, and there have only been six, so I really wouldn't think that very many people would start on a later volume in the series. If you want to read Harry Potter, you start from the beginning. I'm thinking she doesn't do this much in the fifth and sixth books, but there's quite a bit of recapping in the first four, and most of it is basic stuff that seems to be there just for the purpose of readers starting with a later installment. We certainly aren't going to forget that Harry's an orphan, that he's been forced to live with his dreadful aunt, uncle and cousin, that he survived a direct attack by the evil Voldemort... and on and on. I can understand reading out of order with a lot series, especially that encompass many books or are mostly episodic and stand-alone, but practically from the beginning we have known that this was a seven-part series, that it was one massive saga broken down into seven years. So are there really that many people who pick up the series halfway through, or is all the recapping a little superfluous? I don't really mind, because it's still very well written, and it's not like it's written the exact same way time after time. I just wonder if it's really necessary...
"Your Hair's Getting Silly, Dear..."
When I first read this (62), in the car on vacation in Ocean City, I cracked up helplessly. When I tried reading it aloud to Nathan, I could barely spit it out; Re-reading Goblet of Fire this time around, I started hopping up and down in my seat when I realized that it was coming up. As totally inconsequential as it is, I think it's my favorite single line in the book. Why, oh why?
I adore Mrs. Weasley. She's probably my favorite female character in the books, though Professor McGonagall gives her a major run for her money. Anyway, this is just such a motherly moment. Here's Bill, who she's barely seen since he graduated from Hogwarts, and she has to comment on his personal grooming. Her reaction to the earring is great too, and oh so reminiscent of how my mom reacted when my brother came home one day in high school wearing a magnetic earring to freak her out. He did eventually get a real one but by then I guess she'd gotten rather used to the idea, and he was old enough that she didn't feel she had much say. Bill may be in his mid-20s, but once he's under his old roof again, he's also under his mother's scrutiny. Riled up as she is over Fred and George's antics, I imagine she's kind of on the warpath anyway when they sit down to dinner, so Bill's earring becomes the target. But I just love the hair. What is it about mothers and long hair?
My mom actually doesn't have an objection, but both of my grandmas hate long hair on men. Actually, they're not too crazy about long hair on women either. It's partly a generational thing, I suppose. But it's just like a mom to welcome her son home with, "You need a haircut!" What I really love about this line is the way she says it. She could have used any number of words in that sentence: long, ratty, unkempt, ridiculous... All sorts of adjectives to indicate her disapproval. But the word "silly" is so incredibly gentle, especially when coupled with the "dear" and her "fingering her wand lovingly"; it's more of a perfunctory protest than any kind of real objection. She knows Bill isn't going to let her cut his hair; she just wants to do her motherly duty by mildly expressing her own notion of what constitutes an appropriate hairstyle. Good ol' Molly...
I adore Mrs. Weasley. She's probably my favorite female character in the books, though Professor McGonagall gives her a major run for her money. Anyway, this is just such a motherly moment. Here's Bill, who she's barely seen since he graduated from Hogwarts, and she has to comment on his personal grooming. Her reaction to the earring is great too, and oh so reminiscent of how my mom reacted when my brother came home one day in high school wearing a magnetic earring to freak her out. He did eventually get a real one but by then I guess she'd gotten rather used to the idea, and he was old enough that she didn't feel she had much say. Bill may be in his mid-20s, but once he's under his old roof again, he's also under his mother's scrutiny. Riled up as she is over Fred and George's antics, I imagine she's kind of on the warpath anyway when they sit down to dinner, so Bill's earring becomes the target. But I just love the hair. What is it about mothers and long hair?
My mom actually doesn't have an objection, but both of my grandmas hate long hair on men. Actually, they're not too crazy about long hair on women either. It's partly a generational thing, I suppose. But it's just like a mom to welcome her son home with, "You need a haircut!" What I really love about this line is the way she says it. She could have used any number of words in that sentence: long, ratty, unkempt, ridiculous... All sorts of adjectives to indicate her disapproval. But the word "silly" is so incredibly gentle, especially when coupled with the "dear" and her "fingering her wand lovingly"; it's more of a perfunctory protest than any kind of real objection. She knows Bill isn't going to let her cut his hair; she just wants to do her motherly duty by mildly expressing her own notion of what constitutes an appropriate hairstyle. Good ol' Molly...
Friday, April 27, 2007
Does Snape Suspect That Harry Is a Parselmouth?
Reading The Great Snape Debate, the mention of Harry's fateful duel with Malfoy in CoS (193-195) got me wondering... Did Snape have suspicions about Harry's abilities? Of all the spells he could have whispered into Malfoy's ear, it's just interesting that he chose the one that led to Harry being ostracized by most of the student body for a good portion of the year, getting a taste of how Snape felt throughout his whole time at Hogwarts. It's not as though Harry has an especially strong revulsion to snakes, a la Ron's fear of spiders; I don't think Snape was really expecting Harry to jump out of his skin in fright at the sight of the creature. And once it shows up, he "lazily" offers to take care of it, acting slowly enough that Gilderoy has ample opportunity to blunder his way in and attempt some flashy, inevitably inept heroics, leading Harry to take matters into his own hands, or rather, tongue, after which Snape graces him with a "shrewd and calculating look".
Dumbledore tells Harry that he suspects some of Voldemort's powers rubbed off on him when he gave him his lightning-bolt scar (333); mightn't someone of Snape's intimate familiarity with the Dark Arts suspect such a thing could happen? Interestingly, if he did have an inkling beforehand, then exposing Harry could be both be evidence of "bad Snape" and "good Snape"; for the former, he's being vindictive, turning students against Harry and making him miserable, but for the latter, he's arming him with knowledge of which he was previously unaware, and which turns out to be a very important tool as the book progresses.
Dumbledore tells Harry that he suspects some of Voldemort's powers rubbed off on him when he gave him his lightning-bolt scar (333); mightn't someone of Snape's intimate familiarity with the Dark Arts suspect such a thing could happen? Interestingly, if he did have an inkling beforehand, then exposing Harry could be both be evidence of "bad Snape" and "good Snape"; for the former, he's being vindictive, turning students against Harry and making him miserable, but for the latter, he's arming him with knowledge of which he was previously unaware, and which turns out to be a very important tool as the book progresses.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Snape's Got to Stop Lurking at Half-Open Doors
Since I've been reading "The Great Snape Debate," I've got Snape on the brain. So much of the argument for Snape being ultimately on the side of right can hinge on one's interpretation of his character at various points in the series. Although he appears stern, unfair and unlikeable almost all the time (though remember we almost always see him through Harry's eyes, except for the "Spinner's End" chapter in HBP) most of his actions can be viewed in such a way that you can make a fairly simple case for the goodness of his ultimate loyalties, even if you have to look hard underneath the surface.
The one scene where I sometimes feel like this is a stretch is in the shrieking shack at the end of PoA. He's so awful to both Lupin and Black in this scene that it's hard to feel sympathy for Snape, even when you're in possession of the knowledge (not gained until OotP) that Lupin, Black and James Potter treated him terribly when they were all at school together.
What does Snape know? How much does he know, and when does he know it? He CANNOT know, simply cannot know, that Pettigrew is still alive, or the whole argument on Snape's behalf falls apart. We know he goes to Lupin's office with the wolfsbane potion, finds Lupin missing, and sees the Marauder's Map. Apparently he can see Lupin on the map, heading for the shrieking shack: "I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight..."
That "out of sight" comment is important. The Marauder's Map shows the Hogwarts grounds, and apparently the underground tunnels, but once you come out of those hidden passageways and into Hogsmeade, I don't think you can be visible on the map anymore. If you were, then Snape would have seen who was in the shack as well as Lupin running along toward it. I don't think he was able to see who was in the shack, or he might have given credence to the possibility of Pettigrew still being alive. As it is, I don't think Snape even hears about that possibility. He's enraged when he finds them all, and has his mindset on turning in Lupin and Black. Sirius' hoarse plea for him to look at the rat falls on deaf ears -- I don't even think Snape notices it. And if you note where Snape seems to begin eavesdropping (he's wearing the invisibility cloak, and there's a moment when everyone in the room hears the door creak and looks toward it) then it appears he misses the first part of the conversation when Sirius and Lupin are telling the trio that Pettigrew is Scabbers, and only hears the part of the story where Lupin is explaining how they were all illegal animagi.
I think this is really important -- what Snape hears, and what he doesn't. Because if he has a clue, an inkling, that Pettigrew is still alive and masquerading as Ron's rat, then his behavior to Sirius in particular is shocking. You'd have to believe for the sake of a grudge, for wanting vengenance on an old enemy (and one who has already suffered terribly for a crime he didn't commit) he'd be willing to let the real criminal go free. That's almost impossible to believe, unless he really is Voldermort's guy, and I'm just not ready to believe that.
What's painful about this chapter, however, is just how buried in hatred and hurt Snape is. I don't want my hopes about his ultimate loyalties and redemption to blind me to that fact. This is a wounded man, any way you look at him (even if it's just through Harry's eyes). There is such a terrible glee in Snape's demeanor when he talks about giving Sirius over to the dementors; such a roughness and coldness when he refers to Lupin as "the werewolf." This is a man who has not learned to forgive as he's been forgiven.
And it's possible, if we're guessing right about his loyalties, then he may have even more to forgive here than we think:
-- He's angry at Sirius and Lupin for their treatment of him at school, and for their "practical joke" that almost got him killed when he was sixteen
-- He's livid that Lupin, outcast and scum of wizarding society, still got ahead of him for DADA job he's yearned for (and perhaps is feeling frustrated that Dumbledore trusts Lupin when he doesn't think Lupin is trustworthy...isn't THAT fascinating, considering Dumbledore's trust in him when he's been far worse? Lupin didn't choose to be a werewolf, but presumably Severus chose to be a Death Eater at some point)
--If he really believes in Sirius' guilt, believes that Sirius betrayed the Potters -- then his own guilt is bound up tightly in Sirius'. He must be feeling at some deep level that he and Sirius delivered the one-two punch that got James and Lily killed. Severus heard half the prophecy and told Voldemort; Voldemort made the choice to go after the Potters; and someone (Pettigrew really, but Snape believes it's Sirius) betrayed the Potters' whereabouts to Voldemort. If Snape's remorse for the Potters' death is real...and Dumbledore thinks it is, and most of HP fandom believes on some level that Snape liked/loved/admired Lily Potter, which certainly seems plausible...then Snape must loathe Sirius because he thinks Sirius' duplicity capitalized on his own terrible mistake and made it an irrevocable one.
Makes you wonder if Snape's loathing of Sirius isn't, at some level, a reflection of his own self-loathing.
So I'm back to sympathizing with the git. I just can't seem to help it.
But one thing I'm sure of is that he's got to stop listening at half-open doors. This is twice now he has acted on "half" information, on knowing only part of the story. Snape needs to learn to listen to the whole story and not just jump to conclusions and act rashly based on what he thinks he knows.
Hmm...sound familiar? Are you listening, Harry?
The one scene where I sometimes feel like this is a stretch is in the shrieking shack at the end of PoA. He's so awful to both Lupin and Black in this scene that it's hard to feel sympathy for Snape, even when you're in possession of the knowledge (not gained until OotP) that Lupin, Black and James Potter treated him terribly when they were all at school together.
What does Snape know? How much does he know, and when does he know it? He CANNOT know, simply cannot know, that Pettigrew is still alive, or the whole argument on Snape's behalf falls apart. We know he goes to Lupin's office with the wolfsbane potion, finds Lupin missing, and sees the Marauder's Map. Apparently he can see Lupin on the map, heading for the shrieking shack: "I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight..."
That "out of sight" comment is important. The Marauder's Map shows the Hogwarts grounds, and apparently the underground tunnels, but once you come out of those hidden passageways and into Hogsmeade, I don't think you can be visible on the map anymore. If you were, then Snape would have seen who was in the shack as well as Lupin running along toward it. I don't think he was able to see who was in the shack, or he might have given credence to the possibility of Pettigrew still being alive. As it is, I don't think Snape even hears about that possibility. He's enraged when he finds them all, and has his mindset on turning in Lupin and Black. Sirius' hoarse plea for him to look at the rat falls on deaf ears -- I don't even think Snape notices it. And if you note where Snape seems to begin eavesdropping (he's wearing the invisibility cloak, and there's a moment when everyone in the room hears the door creak and looks toward it) then it appears he misses the first part of the conversation when Sirius and Lupin are telling the trio that Pettigrew is Scabbers, and only hears the part of the story where Lupin is explaining how they were all illegal animagi.
I think this is really important -- what Snape hears, and what he doesn't. Because if he has a clue, an inkling, that Pettigrew is still alive and masquerading as Ron's rat, then his behavior to Sirius in particular is shocking. You'd have to believe for the sake of a grudge, for wanting vengenance on an old enemy (and one who has already suffered terribly for a crime he didn't commit) he'd be willing to let the real criminal go free. That's almost impossible to believe, unless he really is Voldermort's guy, and I'm just not ready to believe that.
What's painful about this chapter, however, is just how buried in hatred and hurt Snape is. I don't want my hopes about his ultimate loyalties and redemption to blind me to that fact. This is a wounded man, any way you look at him (even if it's just through Harry's eyes). There is such a terrible glee in Snape's demeanor when he talks about giving Sirius over to the dementors; such a roughness and coldness when he refers to Lupin as "the werewolf." This is a man who has not learned to forgive as he's been forgiven.
And it's possible, if we're guessing right about his loyalties, then he may have even more to forgive here than we think:
-- He's angry at Sirius and Lupin for their treatment of him at school, and for their "practical joke" that almost got him killed when he was sixteen
-- He's livid that Lupin, outcast and scum of wizarding society, still got ahead of him for DADA job he's yearned for (and perhaps is feeling frustrated that Dumbledore trusts Lupin when he doesn't think Lupin is trustworthy...isn't THAT fascinating, considering Dumbledore's trust in him when he's been far worse? Lupin didn't choose to be a werewolf, but presumably Severus chose to be a Death Eater at some point)
--If he really believes in Sirius' guilt, believes that Sirius betrayed the Potters -- then his own guilt is bound up tightly in Sirius'. He must be feeling at some deep level that he and Sirius delivered the one-two punch that got James and Lily killed. Severus heard half the prophecy and told Voldemort; Voldemort made the choice to go after the Potters; and someone (Pettigrew really, but Snape believes it's Sirius) betrayed the Potters' whereabouts to Voldemort. If Snape's remorse for the Potters' death is real...and Dumbledore thinks it is, and most of HP fandom believes on some level that Snape liked/loved/admired Lily Potter, which certainly seems plausible...then Snape must loathe Sirius because he thinks Sirius' duplicity capitalized on his own terrible mistake and made it an irrevocable one.
Makes you wonder if Snape's loathing of Sirius isn't, at some level, a reflection of his own self-loathing.
So I'm back to sympathizing with the git. I just can't seem to help it.
But one thing I'm sure of is that he's got to stop listening at half-open doors. This is twice now he has acted on "half" information, on knowing only part of the story. Snape needs to learn to listen to the whole story and not just jump to conclusions and act rashly based on what he thinks he knows.
Hmm...sound familiar? Are you listening, Harry?
Minerva McGonagall, Quidditch Enthusiast
I really do love Professor McGonagall. She's such a fantastic teacher: no-nonsense, strict, but compassionate and sometimes even a little mischievous despite the hard line she usually takes with students. I especially enjoy her enthusiasm for Quidditch. Part of it, I'm sure, stems from her deep pride in Gryffindor as the head of the house, but her fondness for the game goes beyond just wanting to see her students succeed, I think. She has a keen understanding of the rules; it seems she's always the one overseeing the commetation. It would be interesting to hear her commentate a match herself. I wonder if she could show the restraint she tries to coax out of Lee Jordan?
The moment when she plucks Harry out of flying class and whisks him down the hall with her is so marvelous. It certainly seems at that point that she is going to severely reprimand him for unauthorized flying. She does nothing to demonstrate to Harry that she has other intentions until after she finds Wood; I imagine she wanted to make him sweat a bit, as much to ease her own conscience for bending the rules as to punish him. She's usually so composed, but her dander's up when she recalls their defeat the year before. "Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks..." (152) She's obviously been preoccupied by the thought of finding a Seeker, and when she glimpses Harry's stunt that's where her mind immediately goes.
McGonagall continually chides Lee for making favoritist remarks during his commentaries, but she doesn't deny him the job. As heartily as she protests, I think she agrees with him much of the time, particularly when Gryffindor is playing Slytherin and the latter is using particularly unfair tactics. She's especially furious at Malfoy's tactics in the final Quidditch match in Prisoner of Azkaban, (311) losing all her cool to shout ferociously at him. This, of course, is due as much to the threat to Harry's safety as to the potential loss for Gryffindor. She is similarly livid when Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle attempt to cause Harry to have another fainting spell when they dress up as dementors (263). As much as she wants Gryffindor to win, she is much more concerned about her students' well-being, grimly announcing the cancellation the final Quidditch match in Chamber of Secrets after Hermione and Penelope are attacked (257), gently but firmly refusing to give Harry his Firebolt until it has been searched exhaustively for curses in Prisoner of Azkaban.
When she finally does give the Firebolt back, though, she's obviously very pleased about it. As much as she respects her fellow teachers (with the exception of the egotistical Lockhart, the vindictive Umbridge and to some extent the eccentic Trelawney, all of whom are pretty useless as instructors), she and Snape obviously have a bit of a feud going as Heads of House, and she'd like to put his gloating to rest. "Do try and win, won't you? Or we'll be out of the running for the eighth year in a row, as Professor Snape was kind enough to remind me only last night..." (248)
And when Gryffindor finally manages the long-awaited victory, nobody is more ecstatic than her. "Professor McGonagall was sobbing harder even than Wood, wiping her eyes with an enormous Gryffindor flag." (313) That's just in the first three books, but this is probably the most shining Quidditch moment, and it's really nice to see this prim and proper teacher completely lose her composure for a moment of unguarded euphoria.
The moment when she plucks Harry out of flying class and whisks him down the hall with her is so marvelous. It certainly seems at that point that she is going to severely reprimand him for unauthorized flying. She does nothing to demonstrate to Harry that she has other intentions until after she finds Wood; I imagine she wanted to make him sweat a bit, as much to ease her own conscience for bending the rules as to punish him. She's usually so composed, but her dander's up when she recalls their defeat the year before. "Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks..." (152) She's obviously been preoccupied by the thought of finding a Seeker, and when she glimpses Harry's stunt that's where her mind immediately goes.
McGonagall continually chides Lee for making favoritist remarks during his commentaries, but she doesn't deny him the job. As heartily as she protests, I think she agrees with him much of the time, particularly when Gryffindor is playing Slytherin and the latter is using particularly unfair tactics. She's especially furious at Malfoy's tactics in the final Quidditch match in Prisoner of Azkaban, (311) losing all her cool to shout ferociously at him. This, of course, is due as much to the threat to Harry's safety as to the potential loss for Gryffindor. She is similarly livid when Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle attempt to cause Harry to have another fainting spell when they dress up as dementors (263). As much as she wants Gryffindor to win, she is much more concerned about her students' well-being, grimly announcing the cancellation the final Quidditch match in Chamber of Secrets after Hermione and Penelope are attacked (257), gently but firmly refusing to give Harry his Firebolt until it has been searched exhaustively for curses in Prisoner of Azkaban.
When she finally does give the Firebolt back, though, she's obviously very pleased about it. As much as she respects her fellow teachers (with the exception of the egotistical Lockhart, the vindictive Umbridge and to some extent the eccentic Trelawney, all of whom are pretty useless as instructors), she and Snape obviously have a bit of a feud going as Heads of House, and she'd like to put his gloating to rest. "Do try and win, won't you? Or we'll be out of the running for the eighth year in a row, as Professor Snape was kind enough to remind me only last night..." (248)
And when Gryffindor finally manages the long-awaited victory, nobody is more ecstatic than her. "Professor McGonagall was sobbing harder even than Wood, wiping her eyes with an enormous Gryffindor flag." (313) That's just in the first three books, but this is probably the most shining Quidditch moment, and it's really nice to see this prim and proper teacher completely lose her composure for a moment of unguarded euphoria.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Hermione: Defender of the Downtrodden
Having just finished Prisoner of Azkaban, I'm struck once more by the way Hermione leaps to the defense of those in trouble. She is the one who really works tirelessly to put together a defense for Buckbeak; Ron and Harry pitch in, but she definitely takes the lion's share of the work. All three are horrified at the thought of him being executed, but she seems to be the most intensely invested in Hagrid's plight, to the point of smacking Malfoy heartily when she hears him gloating yet again over Hagrid's misfortune. In Goblet of Fire, she's the one advocating on behalf of the house elves, trying to give them fairer working conditions. And of course, her skills as a researcher have helped her solve many of the mysteries floating around Hogwarts over the years. I can't recall now if she's said what she wants to do after Hogwarts, but it seems like she would do very well as a defense attorney or something along those lines, allowing her to use her intellect to help those who aren't really in a position to speak for themselves...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)