In re-reading Harry Potter for the first time in over six years, it's fascinating to come into the world of the books now having watched most of the f...moreIn re-reading Harry Potter for the first time in over six years, it's fascinating to come into the world of the books now having watched most of the films at least twice a year. I was struck throughout my read of this first book with the fact that I knew so much more than Harry did-about everything. It was difficult to imagine what I would have thought of the story if I wasn't already embedded in the mythos of Hogwarts, Diagon Alley and Dumbledore. My impression from this revisit is that I would have found it hard to enjoy any of the characters.
It's initially difficult to understand how Harry is even a functioning human being after the hyperbolic amount of child abuse that is his upbringing. Perhaps we're supposed to treat Harry's childhood like a fairy tale: that because he is our hero, his inner virtue somehow carries him through the terrors of being forced to live in a cupboard, treated like a servant, insulted and hit regularly, and given "gifts" such as old socks and coat-hangers. But Harry didn't just move in with his evil relations after a happy childhood with his caring family. No, these people have raised him from age one. If the Dursley's treated 3-year-old Harry the way the treat 11-year- old Harry, then I don't know how Harry would be able to form attachments of any kind or feel anything but contempt for himself. Perhaps Rowling trusts our suspension of disbelief for the sake of a magical story, but Harry's orphanhood in the books is to such an extent that from the get-go, I'm suspicious of the author.
Another major challenge was the caustic and insulting way everyone speaks to one another. Half way through the book, nearly every main character has been told to "Shut Up" or has lobbed the phrase at someone else. I quickly began noting the places were Hermione is treated as or explicitly called a nag (marked as "Hag" -"Hermione Nagging"). Rowling even has the narrator imply that Hermione is somehow wrong for refusing to let Ron and Harry copy her homework. Apparently a good friend would let you cheat? And while Neville finds ways to stand up for himself and is rewarded by Dumbledore for his bravery, the trio (and the narrator) generally talk about him like a pathetic pain in the ass. Overall, there is little kindness, compassion, or genuine connection between the characters. Even noble-hearts like Hagrid and Dumbledore often read as comically sentimental or stupid. In reading, I felt was being invited to despise people rather than identify with them.
DId I like anything? Yes. Once we finally left the Muggle world, I still found myself relishing every magical and mysterious detail of Hogwarts, as I do with the films. I also appreciated how swiftly the story moved along, compared to the film (and most of the books to come). But I REALLY enjoyed reading the UK version. First of all, it's always bugged the heck out of me that the term "Sorcerer's Stone" was used in the US, seeing as there is no such thing as a sorcerer's stone. The idea of the Philosopher's Stone goes back hundreds of years in the lore of alchemy. How sad that publisher's trusted 10 yr olds in the UK to know what the philosopher's stone was, but feared American kids wouldn't be willing to find out. I felt proud to be carrying a book with the true title.
Also, in choosing the read the UK edition, I immediately found myself noting certain phrases and spellings so I could cross-reference them with the American version. I LOVED this. It was surprising to see what was kept, what was replaced, and what was simply clarified. UK "Hamburger Bars" became "Hamburger Restaurants," "revision timetables" became "study schedules," "football" became "soccer" of course, and "Hallowe'en" became "Halloween." But I still don't know what a "knickerbocker glory" is, and surprisingly the US edition didn't help me.
Ultimately I'll never know if I would have fallen in love with this world if I'd met it first through this book. My gut says no. But then again, I remember relishing the first three books when I read them back in the fall of 2004 before I had the chance to memorize the films. I'm hoping that some character depth and truthful interactions begin to emerge as the books go on. Frankly, I think if these books had been written by a man, the portrayal of Hermione alone would have sparked public book burnings.
Here's hoping the wonder, bravery and tenderness of the films' world begins soon to prove revelatory of its roots in the original texts.(less)
For those expecting "Diaries of a French Burlesque Dancer", prepare to be disappointed. While one may approach Colette's behind-the-scenes o...moreFor those expecting "Diaries of a French Burlesque Dancer", prepare to be disappointed. While one may approach Colette's behind-the-scenes of a traveling pantomime artist in turn-of-the-century France expecting it to be flavored with salacious frivolity to match Colette's reputation, what you'll find is more an existentialist rumination on ambivalence, than story of a passionate life. In fact, if there's one thing that most defines the divorcee-turned-stage-performer Reneé Neré, it's her distrust of passion. Colette's largely-biographical novel tracks the frustrations, distractions and depressions of a woman in her early thirties whom, in the fallout of a disastrous and damaging marriage, chooses a life of solitude on the stage, rather than one of societal rules. But it's not a story of the gay and free life of an artist. Instead, the monotony and doubt expressed by Reneé are all-too-recognizable for any single woman reader today, particularly if that reader is in-between jobs and still trying to figure out what to do with her life, with men, and with herself. (ahem).
Did I enjoy this book? Not particularly. The protagonist's reflections on self-doubt and self-denial are disruptive, and even at times, numbing. Do I respect this book? Absolutely. To read something that speaks so frankly about women's experience, women's fears and women's strength much less about a woman living in her own apartment and making her own living during a time when corsets were still ubiquitous, is both humbling and empowering. But to spend time with Reneé Neré, is to linger in a space of dissociative hesitation and unconscious compulsion. It's uncomfortable, but truthful. Read, respect, but do not expect to revel.
**The Dover Edition is terrible. Stanley Applebaum's introduction is meant to replace what endnotes would be, but this book desperately needs endnotes for the cultural and historical references. Also, Applebaums new "Americanized" translation reads at times like an Archie comic book. The Enid MacLeod translation may be 60 years old and egregiously British, but it's still better.**(less)
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