it's always about power, really
This Week In Reading
The entire Harry Potter series by JK Rowling
In many ways, I feel like Harry Potter is the most defining aspect of my generation. I genuinely believe that JK Rowling is the only reason anyone my age reads at all. I grew up on the cusp of the tech revolution. The internet existed, but it wasn’t yet a dominant cultural force. But between gameboys and television, there was a very good chance that my generation would have given up on the old fashioned pleasures of a paper book. Harry Potter derailed that threat. For many of us, Harry Potter was the first series we truly loved, and I would hazard to bet that for many of us, we will never find a series that is all consuming or influential as Harry Potter was. Millions of kids around the world would count down the days until a new book was released each July, and the next 48 hours would be practically silent as people tore through the hundreds and hundreds of pages of the latest installment. And then from mid July until the next book, we would obsessively discuss what had happened so far, spitball theories for how the books would end, debate which characters we wanted to pair off. Now, ten and a half years after the final book was published, the four Hogwarts houses are still used as shorthand for personality types (I am a Ravenclaw, with a Slytherin moon, obviously) and “Voldemort”, “Hermione Granger”, and “Muggle” are all accepted parts of the English vernacular.
The books absolutely hold up, in case you were wondering. I do a full series reread every few years and am always so impressed by how well written they are. JK Rowling is a master at setting a scene; slowly building a world that gets richer and more nuanced book by book. Upon rereading, I am most struck by how skillfully she structures her plot. So much happens in these books-- but she introduces each piece of the puzzle gradually, lays out the foundation for her plot books ahead of time. In the second book, Harry and Ron crash a flying car into the Whomping Willow. It’s a fun, memorable chapter that doesn’t really factor into the main plotline. In the climax of Prisoner of Azkaban, they discover that the Whomping Willow stands over the secret entrance to the Shrieking Shack. The surprise and drama of this scene hinges on the fact that the reader is already familiar with the Whomping Willow, that our understanding of this part of the wizarding world is subverted. So many children’s stories introduce the set up to close to the pay off, but JK Rowling sets a very deliberate path of crumbs for her readers that allows the story to reach it’s full potential.
On this reread, I was really struck by the way power structures are explored throughout the book. The main villain of the series is obvious. Voldemort, a figure so evil he doesn’t even have a nose, is the embodiment of wickedness. But there are other villains as well. The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, is not wicked, but his desire to protect the status quo and project an air of authority ultimately leads him to suppress truth and hamper people fighting for good. With Dolores Umbridge, the books explore the way evil can exist within institutions, the way that rules and laws can be used to harm and oppress instead of aid and protect. When Cornelius Fudge is toppled from his post of Minister of Magic in the 6th book, he is replaced by Rufus Scrimgeour, a grizzled, tough-on-crime style politician. But while he is unwilling to turn a blind eye to Voldemort’s rise, Scrimgeour is quick to make false arrests and implores Harry to publically endorse the Ministry, all in the name of improving public morale. The Ministry of Magic is not as purely evil as Voldemort and his followers, who use dark magic solely to create pain and havoc, but the government’s inclination to protect and promote their own reputation, at the expense of taking direct action, allows the suffering created by the more obvious villains to continue.
I do not have to explain to you the parallels between this fictional world of Death Eaters and Unforgivable Curses, and the dark political climate we currently live in. Again and again I was struck by how topical these books feel, despite the fact that they were published more than a decade ago, and were supposedly written for children. The pureblood/mudblood conflict was always a clear allegory for racial tension, but during this reading I was also struck by Hermione, the OG SJW with her civil rights campaign for house elves, and was really fascinated by the character of Slughorn, who is motivated more by prestige than by principles.
Throughout the series, Dumbledore stands in contrast to both the pure wickedness of Voldemort, and the complicit bumbling of the wizarding government. Dumbledore is a free agent who has repeatedly turned down the position of Minister of Magic, seemingly motivated by his own principles and sense of justice. Under his wing, Harry grows into an independent actor, guided by courage and morality. But even this perspective proves flawed. In Goblet of Fire, Hermione points out that Harry has a savior complex, a tendency that not only endangers himself, but also ends up killing people close to him. Harry repeatedly tries to go it alone, attempts to shoulder the entire burden of saving the wizarding world in hopes of protecting those around him, but again and again these impulses prove incorrect. Over and over he learns that he is strongest as a part of a group-- that it is friendship and teamwork that actually lead to success.
And Dumbledore, an icon of individual power, proves to be deeply flawed as well. Albus Dumbledore is the ultimate problematic fave. After being deified for six books, a scathing expose published by an unethical journalist reveals a checkered past. I remember reading Deathly Hallows for this first time as a 14 year old and having a hard time getting through the Dumbledore chapters. It hurt to have my perception of a (fictional!) person that I had been taught to respect and admire, shattered. This is an experience that has become more and more familiar in recent years. Harry struggles not only with the realization that Dumbledore had thought and done terrible things, but also with the fact that there was simply so much more to this person that he had considered himself close to. This is not dissimilar to the way contemporary journalism challenges us to re-examine our relationship with public figures on a weekly basis, challenges the loyalty that we feel to relationships that are at their core, one sided.
The dethroning of Dumbledore raises a question that is being hotly debated today: do problematic statements or an unethical past invalidate any good that a public figure has achieved? Dumbledore once preached the suppression of all Muggles in order to promote the wizarding race, and then spent the next century of his life atoning for this youthful ignorance. Is it possible to atone completely for our past sins? How do we reframe our past relationships when presented with new information? Revisionist history is much easier when we don’t hold emotional stakes in the story. In the end, Harry chooses to accept Dumbledore, despite the lies, despite the manipulation. Right now, as a society, we are killing all of our heroes. Let them burn. Kill the old gods, and the new. But when we have turned the gods mortal again, perhaps we can show them mercy. Perhaps we can allow them to limp forward, human and flawed, and become better.
Anyways, you should absolutely reread Harry Potter. I always forget how genuinely funny these books are. And if you haven’t already read them, it is not too late. I know several people that read them for the first time as adults and loved them just as fiercely as people that grew up on them.
Further Reading
I am slowly revisiting my favorite childhood books every time I go home for Christmas. Many of them (Artemis Fowl, The Golden Compass) did not hold up at all. A few that I still really adore as an adult: Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfeild, Chasing Vermeer by Blue Balliett, Saffy’s Angel by Hilary McKay.