Open Hatch

This seems to be that writer’s core criticism, the center of her argument:
“As envisioned by Rowling, [Harry] walks the path of good so unwaveringly that his final victory over Voldemort feels, not just inevitable, but hollow.”

Essentially, she is unsatisfied because Harry didn’t brood, mope, and sin enough before he had his victory. Well, gee, maybe Rowling should be sorry. Maybe Rowling should have written a novel which she knew millions of children would read which contained references to adolescent sexual skirmishes, or perhaps Harry should have used sectumsempra! on Snape to leave him limbless. I’m exaggerating quite a bit for effect, though I think the writer of that article also exaggerated quite a bit.

I do not take to her argument kindly. I find it frankly demoralizing, quite ironically contrary to it’s claim to stand for higher moral absolutes. The charge of relativism regarding Harry Potter I simply don’t comprehend or see where that comes through in her argument. I don’t think support for it is there unless her arguments hold up, which they don’t.

The entire following paragraph sets aside that she places Harry in an idealized, misrepresented holy sphere, supposedly devoid of hesitation, which the books never place him in. She apparently misses Harry’s very real dark side and hesitation. If Harry is as idealized as she falsely puts forward, he’d be easy to rhetorically knock down. But Harry has detestable weaknesses, and multiple times the books make it clear that he dearly wishes to abandon course, jump ship, give up, give in, it expresses his raging resentments, he is often very rotten to enemies and friends, it expresses his desire to succumb to darkness: but also, and this is important, it expresses his clear decision to carry on despite it all. Harry certainly has his own great temptations to darkness, and his moral setbacks, and is not (of himself) invincible or ideal.

Now having noted that distortion, to engage her argument I’d say that I am for literature which depicts evil and allows characters to make awful choices.

Snape has a wonderful place in the books for that reason, by making us hate his bad behavior, by making us feel disgust. But her argument would have all literary characters at some point make not just bad, but really bad choices. She suggests Snape should have been the main character; Snape, who betrayed former schoolmates to a Dark Lord who murdered them, Snape, who is at times so inexpressibly cruel and hypocritical to turn your face as pale as his own. Snape creates a useful disgust in the reader, but should shock and indignation be the only and sum point of literature? In arguing that Snape should have been front and center she gives away her game: she would have literature only present characters who choose great darkness before choosing light: the format of this dogma is that all things must be x before y. This hint at an overly rigid literary rule alarms me. In the end it lacks principle. How? What she misses is that there are people who choose a right path without ever wavering into a terribly wrong path. Her implication is that all people inevitably will or must do great wrong at some point. It’s surely possible for anyone to do great wrong, but that sidesteps possibility and puts forward the idea of inevitable great wrong. That’s demoralizing and disrespectful of the nobility which humanity is capable of. The theory doesn’t apply to human nature (unless you believe Calvinism. I don’t) Suppose she were criticizing the Bible (be it regarded truth by many, and fiction by many). Then let’s take her argument against her (falsely idealized) Harry and frame it on a truer ultimate ideal:

“As envisioned by Rowling, [Jesus] walks the path of good so unwaveringly that his final victory over [Satan] feels, not just inevitable, but hollow.”

How does that sound?

I didn’t think so.

Speaking now from my own religious frame. Supposing we are to be the manner of men, or man, to use Jesus’ own admonition, that He is. Is it conceivable any of us might follow him and never fall into sins so great as, say, betraying a friend to a murderer? Maybe I’m very imaginative, but I imagine that is possible. And while I am cloistered in my library reading so many books on literary theory that I may not be aware whether such a person exists in the outside world, I have had occasion to think, by mere turns through the Bible, that it might be so. So maybe I could only choose for my sins, or my literary departures into darkness, as it were, such vices as Harry’s – a bit of unintended dabbling in dark magic, a fair amount of raging resentment, a fair amount of cruelty to friends, betimes wishing to give up the quest, but opting for the noble choice, forgiving, and carrying on.

Her theory – widespread among literature or media professionals – destroyed parts of THE LORD OF THE RINGS films. In the books, Faramir, Lord of Gondor, upon encountering the Hobbits and the Ring of Power, does not for a moment give in to any temptation to wield the Ring against the Dark Lord Sauron and his dark forces, but straightway sends the Hobbits on their way further into Mordor and Mount Doom; to get the temptation of the Ring away from himself, and in hopes they will succeed in their quest. But for the film, the screenwriters decided that isn’t dramatic enough. No, somewhere back in their story theory classes they either overtly or subversively assimilated a doctrine that all literary characters must first make really bad choices before making good ones. So they thought they’d take Faramir and have him trap the Hobbits, and his men-minions beat them up a bit, and when he learns of the Ring, lust for its power and attempt to seize it by force. This took a character who always chose the noble path and perverted him; took an unflagging standard of hope for the race of men and defiled it. So goes the fruit of overly rigid literary theory. Same thing with the first film of THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA. They took all of the aspects of the story that didn’t hesitate to do right and corroded and dehumanized them a bit for dramatic effect. It turned the thing into an entirely different creation; base, presenting the diabolical as an absolute necessity in advancing toward the divine. To youth, something as wonderful as the Narnia stories may as well be scripture. Look what we’re doing to wonderful creations by way of our thoughtless philosophies.

No, the diabolical must be allowed for us to advance on the divine, but it doesn’t mean that everyone will tread far into the diabolical before (or if) they turn to the divine.

Now as for this charge:

“Numerous characters get a pass for the bad things they’ve done, not because of any remorse they evidence, but apparently just because they happen to love Harry.”

Firstly, saying that the characters we are supposed to regard as turning from wrong to right did not evidence any remorse I disagree with. What about Snape’s presented memory where he was beside himself and bawling with remorse in front of Dumbledore? What about Ron coming back to Harry and saving his life? Should we hope Harry would turn on Ron and chew him out for cowardice and abandonment after that? Hermoine tried it, and I thought she was rotten for doing so. Oh well, I’ll forgive her and she couldn’t keep up her contempt for long in the face of Ron’s heroics. And of course Snape was still often a very rotten person even after his remorse (for reasons of his twisted psychology which Dumbledore briefly and amusedly illuminates at the end of book one, his remorse may have made him much less kind to Harry, if he still did everything in his power to preserve Harry from the many dangers threatening him). But Snape turned into something far better than what he had been. I don’t understand this charge. What is the expectation? That nobody should ever do bad things at all if they are to be regarded with human respect and forgiveness? To suppose that all characters must tread through terribly dark paths to ring with any authenticity, that begets a hopeless view of mankind; supposes there is naught but very dread despair before anyone can be alloted (if ever) happiness and grace; that humanity is doomed to terrible punishment and failure before it can have any hope. That view would be unnecessary and unforgiving. Of course the characters in the book had their unkindnesses and wrong choices, sometimes greatly so. All of us do bad things despite our best intentions because we are human. Speaking again from my religious vantage, which is the only place I can speak on what I think to be the topic here – grace and forgiveness – I can’t personally see any realistic conception of grace other than one that gives a free pass on bad behaviors so long as we are doing our best and continuously improving. Our best is unacceptable to God. What’s He going to do? Scowl at us? Be stingy and mete out forgiveness in the tiniest possible morsels with the greatest possible (or on the other side of that unrealistic coin – no possible) requirements? I don’t think so. His graces are far weightier than our measly penance. Intent and sincere effort are His only concerns; sincere and continued efforts at good cause Him to “pass” on the bad.

But I’ve realized what I’m arguing with: modern Christianity. If I understand correctly, Mormonism is the only faith which believes that Christ offers us grace in answer to our earnest labor (not all of His grace – a great deal of his grace is given freely no matter what we do; Resurrection, for example). I thought I’d read – and I may display ignorance – that most of Christianity believes there is nothing you can do to earn grace; that it is a gift given (or arbitrarily not given) regardless of what you do. That would lead to a plethora of confused views: 1. we’re completely hopeless and incapable 2. We’re supposed to be that way; that’s how we’re designed 3. the natural order of things is that we fall into terrible, unavoidable sin an misery; we can’t help ourselves; and since this is the right order of things, the degraded state should be focused on: our necessary evil, but 4. God will save us anyway, and depending on the doctrine, if we do this or that (which, baffling to me, I’d think would be seen as work with faith), or whether or not we do this or that.

Beh! Bad doctrine screws up interpretations of literature and life.

What is great about Harry Potter is his lack of hesitation to do right, despite his great desire to the contrary. That is nobility, that’s why we love Harry, and if that critic doesn’t see that light, she can just go on in her “noble” contempt for something truly noble – which sold more copies on its first run than any book in history

Please do me a favor. If you agree with my disagreement of that article, go to that syndication of it at Yahoo and rate it ONE STAR. Of course I wouldn’t mind my own article here being rated highly, but that depends on what you think.