i expected better of you, rowling.

"just because you can doesn't mean you should."
or so the saying goes.

yes, i do realize that i'm 22 and still i enjoy harry potter, though little do i care. to those of you who think less of me, in my defense, i am currently reading one hundred years of solitude. this is mostly because i love marquez, but perhaps stems a little from my need to pacify the little voice in my head that's demanding tolstoy, claiming that i've been feeding the pop culture part of my brain too much lately. to be fair, i don't go anywhere near the general fiction section. that should count for something.

also, on a semi-related topic, life of pi was exceedingly disappointing. it's only good because the story is extraordinary. the mystery of how pi ever survived his adventure carries the whole thing, not the writing, which is trite at best. i thought martel began well when i was reading his prologue. trying to impress upon his audience the shock of his story, he writes that the frail old man who told him about pi described it as, "a story that will make you believe in God." this intrigued me. what a profoundly unusual way to put something. yet, i'm afraid that the writing really doesn't do it justice.

other than life of pi, my meanderings through marquez, and finally finishing in cold blood and the weight of glory, many of you know that i completed the entire harry potter series here in taiwan. i was deeply impressed with all the books, writing about why i think christians are foolish and superficial to dismiss her writing as they do - why it shows a stunted, undeveloped understanding of literature to be hindered at the surface rather than actually absorbing the underlying themes. it's this, along with so many things, that annoys me about christian sub-culture. that we watch inferior films rather than deeply, movingly beautiful ones because of a sex scene or some swearing. that we accept mediocre music and nothing more. that we hearken only to the past glories of western art, but sometimes fail to recognize the technically simplistic, but philosophically complex art of our own generation.

i could go on and on, because there's so much i can say to reprove the christian perception of harry potter that it would probably take another few posts or 10 or a thesis to do so. as i desire not to write that much, i'm going to skip down to why, despite my vehement defense of harry, i am exceedingly disappointed with j.k. rowling right now.

to those who haven't, i suggest you read this article. it came as both a shock and as a fulfillment of something i half-expected to happen: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071020/ap_on_en_ot/books_harry_potter

i know you're all expecting me to withdraw my approval. that is, after all, the christian standard. but my disapproval has nothing to do with dumbledore's supposed homosexuality. i am frustrated... nay, confounded... nay, hopelessly let down by rowling's choice to reveal this. if i've learned anything from my b.a. in literature, it's that the best writing is often the most ambiguous, the type that keeps you (the reader) coming back and asking over and over what it is they really meant. this is not because the writing is incomplete or vague. a person with any significant experience in literary interpretation would deign to give it a second thought if it were. no, i am talking about the writing that is woven so compellingly, that is often so complex, that we care enough to ask these questions.
was hamlet really as mad as he seemed?
is milton's greatest work obviously and debilitatingly anti-feminist, or is it profoundly complimentary to women?
virginia, is it simply your madness that led to this?
hedda, why are you so tragically intriguing?
for the love of God, john fowles, do allison and nick ever get back together?
they're silly questions because every story is, in its own way, complete. but great literature, worthwhile literature, raises questions which, even though we know how the story ended, we want to answer because their writing entranced us into caring. though answering them never ultimately changes the story, we still feel that some seemingly innocuous questions matter. we have to understand.

and of all the great questions that might have been raised about harry potter in the future, i am saddened to know that rowling killed them all with her little comment. with her need to make a point, whether it was a stance for tolerance or simply a glorified middle finger to the christian community, she has destroyed a great many debates and questions that might have been asked about her writing. questions that future students would have thought mattered, because it's never exactly clear.

and i find it to be an even further devastating blow in that it truly matters little to the story. though he believed whole-heartedly in love, that it had to become a particular kind bothers me. dumbledore, the asexual dumbledore that i've been reading about in the stories, is great simply because his sexuality is so ambiguous. we start to ask ourselves the usual questions. is he a metaphor for God? what about his love for grindewald? is it a homosexual love, or is it tragic because it was a david-jonathan love? a friendship beyond others, that was destroyed because of power? if he was straight, is there evidence to support it? or was it his troubled past that simply polluted his intimacy with others? but she's answered all these questions for us, leaving us little to ponder and not actually changing the story at all.

since i read this article, my mind has wandered through the many ways rowling could have made a statement with her characters without choosing dumbledore. despite voldemort's inability to feel for anyone besides himself, was bellatrix in love with him, in a twisted, emotionally perverted sort of way? as far as homosexuality goes, i think there's far more evidence to support that sirius black harbored an attraction to james. why dumbledore, rowling? you had so much more ammunition. one of the most interesting, compelling characters in your story, one worthy of thought and debate, and you had to simplify him so.




john fowles once commented on the fan mail he received upon publishing "the magus." one woman vented her frustration, and demanded that he "just say what [he] means!" long did he ponder her opinion, but ultimately decided that the beauty was that he didn't answer all the questions for his readers. these things were left for them to argue about, to decide for themselves. he was partially making a point, in that nothing is ever completely "happily ever after" the way it is in most stories. there are seasons of happiness and seasons of despair, a mixture of good an evil, of love and hate, of clarity and ambiguity. and to simply lay it out for us one way or the other cheapens the human experience.

as many times as i've wished i had the answers, i am certain that worthwhile writing begs to be examined and re-examined. there oughtn't be a quick-and-easy answer, because if it were that simple, we'd fall to madness. a single human being is never simple to identify or label. all the world isn't separated into neat categories for us, in order for us to see plainly why people behave as they do. and the way i see it, the more literature reflects this reality and can still keep me caring, the better.