The Potter Post

So.

Harry Potter.

It's been a few years now since the series that rejuvenated the young adult book market came to a close, and a couple of years since the final installment of the film franchise based on it. Say what you will about J.K. Rowling, she certainly made her mark with her series of novels about the boy wizard - Harry Potter was an inescapable cultural phenomenon that can be exclusively credited with getting kids interested in reading again. The films were fine, but it was the BOOKS that had kids and young adults around the world waiting with baited breath to see what would happen next to Harry and his friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. It was the BOOKS that had people queuing up around the block for days in advance of their release.

Harry Potter was the Star Wars of the late nineties and noughties. And it took the form of a series of novels. Harry Potter made books COOL.

So how did Rowling do it? Her prose is pretty mundane, and she ripped off (sorry, incorporated elements of) the works of the far more talented Charles Dickens, JRR Tolkien, CS Lewis and Terry Pratchett, with none of their flair, none of the cohesiveness or depth of their literary creations. But maybe it's unfair to compare her those giants of fantasy literature - or maybe not.

Her wizarding world may not have the depth and scope of Tolkien's Middle-Earth, but her books have a lot more humour and her world has the advantage of intersecting with the real world in ways that are immediate and relatable to its readers. Events in Rowling's wizarding community are depicted as have a bearing on the mundane world of Muggles, rather than taking place in a semi-mythical era a long time ago. Dumbledore is a far more conflicted, mysterious and interesting character than Gandalf, and his grandfatherly relationship to Harry is more intimate and meaningful than Gandalf's is to either Bilbo or Frodo. Lord Voldemort is a much more compelling primary villain than Sauron - while Sauron is just an ancient embodiment of utter evil, Voldemort was an unfortunate child who grew into an adult bent on the destruction of everything he hated about himself.

The Potter books draw on the Dickensian formula of having an impoverished, scruffy orphan boy as the protagonist, a child who has been abused and neglected his whole life. Harry's an under-dog, and so we as readers are instantly on his side. He's also distinctly British, and the world he comes to inhabit is defined by the sort of social institutions, technologies and artefacts of the the Industrial Age that one finds throughout the works of Dickens - boarding schools, banks, quaintly-named hospitals, train stations, horse-drawn carriages, fireplaces, portraits, ink pots, letters... it's a deeply sentimental look back at Britain That Was (Doctor Who would similarly build on this sort of nostalgia when it came back from the grave in 2005). In a fast-paced, sexed-up, confusing modern world where having the latest model cellphone is crucial to one's social standing, there's something safe and comforting about being able to slip back into times that we (perhaps falsely) remember as simpler.

But Rowling's world has an advantage over the grim Industrial world of Dickens, for it is also a world of magic. Rowling manages to put a fun twist on the Industrial era with her inclusion of Hippogriffs, Goblins, Dragons and the like, by having owl-delivered letters, fireplace-travel, and train station platforms that can only be accessed by ridiculous means, and by the right people. Nostaligia for the quaint old-fashioned world of Dickens is cleverly combined with the escapism of CS Lewis' Narnia, with a whole world hidden just out of view that one might accidentally step into at any moment (if one happens to have wizard blood). In fact, of all the various influences on the Harry Potter books, CS Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia is perhaps the most similar, although on the surface they don't look very alike. In Lewis' books, children step OUT of a quaint Dickensian world into a strange world of dwarfs, witches, lions and castles, whereas in Rowling's books a modern child (albeit a deprived and decidedly anachronistic one) steps INTO a quaint Dickensian world that just happens to have some of the same stuff that Lewis' strange world has in it. Rowling's wizarding world quite literally makes the best of both worlds.

Unlike Lewis, however, Rowling keeps her narrative tightly focused on her single protagonist and his experiences, thoughts and feelings. In the Potter books, the reader doesn't see events that don't happen right in front of Harry, except when he's taken into a recreation of past events through Tom Riddle's diary or Dumbledore's memory device - for everything else he has to rely on the often partial, sometimes conflicting and confusing accounts of other characters. This adds a layer of ambiguity that the reader can have fun parsing for truth - it makes detectives of us all. The Harry Potter series, then, for all its Dickensian and fantasy trappings, is more akin to Scooby Doo. We like puzzles, and Harry Potter's life is a great one.

Another element that contributes to the addictiveness of the series is Rowling's canny inclusion of the 'team' element. Readers are presented (initially) with four 'teams' - the Houses at Hogwarts: Gryffendor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin (to these are later added the visiting European school 'teams' - Beauxbatons and Durmstrang). Each 'team' is depicted as representing particular character traits which readers can see in themselves, and so it is easy to imagine oneself a member of a particular house based on our own strengths, interests and talents (I like to thing I'm a Ravenclaw). While we are clearly meant to root first and foremost for brave Gryffendor and despise power-hungry Slytherin, we're also given the option of aligning ourselves to intellectual Ravenclaw or inclusive Hufflepuff. As the series progresses, we get heroes from all four teams - importantly, even Slytherin. This is the real genius of the Harry Potter books, they allow the reader to imagine themselves as part of the story in a way that almost nothing else has.

I really do think this is an immensely important point - it's something I've been noticing in other top-popularity series lately, from 'Twilight' to 'The Hunger Games' to George RR Martin's brilliant 'A Song of Ice and Fire' series. In ASOIAF, we're presented with a similar central 'Team A' vs 'Team B' dichotomy - we're meant to admire and relate to the dour, honourable Starks and despise the proud, wealthy Lannisters, while also being presented with other 'teams' we can identify with - the Tullys, the Baratheons, the Targaryens, the Arryns, the Martells and so on. Each family is associated with a particular geographic area of Martin's fictional world, has its own sigil and motto, and collection of physical traits (it's worth noting that while the essential formula is the same as that of the Potter books, with their descriptions of various 'teams' and their associated heraldry, the scope of Martin's series is far greater - there are hundreds of Houses, many of which have detailed histories of conflict and romance). I don't think it's a coincidence that both series are absurdly popular - in fact, I rather think that the Potter-Generation kids have 'graduated' to reading Ice and Fire now they're older.

And of course, at the heart of both series is a love triangle. With the Song of Ice and Fire, it's Robert Baratheon and Rhaegar Targaryen's fight over Lyanna Stark, with everything that follows being a consequence of two men tearing the world apart for the sake of a woman (more on that later). In the Potter-verse, much of the drama comes down to the fact that social misfit Severus Snape loved brilliant Lily Evans, who chose popular James Potter. While this choice doesn't have the world-shattering consequences of the Ice and Fire love triangle (there being no kings involved, and of course, Tom Riddle having already set off down the dark path to becoming Lord Voldemort quite independently from this little spat between Potter and Snape), it is far more personal, having a direct bearing on the life of the books' protagonist. The adult Snape goes out of his way to torment Harry because Harry is a constant reminder of Lily's choosing James. And Snape's eventual redemption is an integral part of the downfall of the series' main villain. The Potter series is profoundly romantic at heart.

Which brings us, finally, to the advent of 'shipping', an inseparable part of the popularity of the Potter franchise. Now, 'shipping' has always existed, of course, but it found its clearest expression in Harry Potter, most likely because the Potter Generation is the first to have been born into a world where computers and the Internet were a part of everyday life. Potter-Generation youth flocked to the online forums to discuss each and every plot development, theory and prediction, and of course romantic relationships between the characters quickly rose to prominence as the issue of paramount importance. Who would Harry's first kiss be with? Who would become his girlfriend? Brilliant but frumpy Hermione Granger, who had been with him every step of the way? Insanely talented Ginny Weasley, with her fiery hair and temper? Uncanny Luna Lovegood, with her otherworldly spirituality? Or Cho Chang, the pretty, popular girl? There were plenty of options, and the reader aligned themselves with one choice - one 'ship' - or another depending on their personal preferences. It was another kind of 'team' allegiance. And of course, when Harry eventually made his choice (which I would argue was heralded from the very beginning - more on that later) half the fandom broke down in tears. It wasn't just Harry, either - would Ron and Hermione get together? What about Neville?

And of course, I can't finish off a post about Harry Potter without briefly discussing the fact that Rowling very publicly declared that one of her primary and most important characters - Dumbledore himself, no less - is gay. The impact of this statement on a generation of youth cannot be overstated. Millions of kids around the world grew up knowing that their hero's mentor, the strongest of the good wizards, the man who enabled Harry to defeat the most evil dark wizard alive, was a gay man. There is ample evidence in the text to support the notion, too, from his sometime-estrangement from his family, his flamboyant style of dress and penchant for knitting patterns, and importantly, some pretty strong evidence that he once loved a man, Gellert Grindelwald. The romanticism that permeates the series is extended to a gay man - that's hugely significant in a series of children's books. Rowling's books essentially humanized gay people for vast swathes of young readers who only heard negative, false stereotypes about us elsewhere. And now, finally, around the world, policies of exclusion toward LGBT people are being challenged by the youth who grew up reading Ms Rowling's books. That's a legacy to be proud of.

So thank you, J.K. Rowling, thank you for giving us an optimistic, inclusive, wonder-filled world to inspire us toward our better human qualities in our own lives. Thank you for Harry Potter.