Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Defense of the Dark Arts: or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Imagination

As the dog-days of summer arrive we are assured of several things, mosquitoes, heat-index warnings, summer blockbuster movies and the arrival of the seventh and alleged last installment of the famed Harry Potter series by author J. K Rowling. What would summers be without good movies to envelope us in the dark and cool auditoriums, our shoes squishing and squeaking over the remnants of popcorn and soda; or our local bookstores hosting midnight release parties and events surrounding the wizarding world of Rowling’s imagination? It’s a rhetorical question I’m asking because we all know what it would be like—unimaginative, with our brains languishing in the summer heat falling into a stupor with only the humming of the crickets or cicada (for those in the south) to lull our flagging humors.

This is an extraordinary aligning of events—the aforementioned movie and book releases. And as my inner-child began to fidget with excitement, I went back and reread the last five chapters or so of the Order of the Phoenix and pulled another waiting book off my shelf at home—Breaking the Magic Spell-Radical Theories of Folk and Fairy Tales by Jack Zipes, noted scholar on folk and fairy tales and someone whose opinions I quite admire. But after reading his essay from his new revised edition from 2002 entitled, “The Radical Morality of Rats, Fairies, Wizards & Ogres: Taking Children’s Literature Seriously,” I felt that I had something to say since part of this essay related to the Harry Potter franchise.

In his essay exploring in more detail the modern fantasy writer, Zipes cites examples from writers that he feels exemplifies the best in fantasy writing for young audiences. He summarizes for his readers the points that he make from another book of his Sticks and Stones identifying attributes of children’s literature all of which are valid, but for this essay, I will touch on just a few. He points out that , “Children’s literature is often class, gender and race specific even when it is not intended to be that way,”. . . That most readers of this genre would fall into, “. . . middle-class white America,” and that, “. . . books are expensive commodities.”

I think I would agree with him up to a point, but since his lens seems to be targeted at U.S. audiences only, it would be important to note that the Harry Potter books alone have been translated into close to 10 languages globally reaching untold numbers of ethnic groups.

He notes that, “To read critically and imaginatively is a long and arduous process, and though a child can be turned on to reading through one book or a series of books, the child will not automatically become and remain a good reader. What is a good reader anyway? Isn’t a good reader someone who learns to question what she/he reads instead of buying into it without reflecting on what she/he is buying and reading?”

Within the context of his essay, it sounds like he might mean to lay waste to the credibility of the Harry Potter franchise and even at the end of the essay, it is clear that he is dubious to the merits of the series or their place in the canon of great works for young audiences. I take issue with this for several reasons but primarily because it is clear that children do reflect on the nature of the story of the young boy that doesn’t fit in and is forced into a world or a situation that is foreign to him and not of his choosing—or the young bookish girl that is vilified by her peers for being too smart—or the son of a family that is considered “less-than” by others even though their familial unit is the epitome of wholesome, nurturing and loving life that many children yearn for. Their reflection and understanding that the world of Harry Potter is imagination and not real is clear, however appealing and exciting it may seem. We need only examine the efforts by the Christian Conservative organizations and other orthodox religious groups that gleefully mount their soap boxes to lecture the public as to the satanic messages found in the wizarding world and how the books will indoctrinate our children into a life of moral decline and devil-worship while off to the side can be found a group of young children who will merely roll their eyes and giggle to themselves at the silly adults who don’t ever seem to ‘get it’. They know. As do all the other sensible adults, parents and educators that these books, as do all of the great and wonderful works of folk tale, fairy tale and fantasy literature, give us metaphoric lessons about life, the human condition and ourselves. It’s really that simple.

Books are expensive, and the Harry Potter books with the exception of the first two, have been veritable tomes. If children wish their parents to buy them in hardback, the cost could range anywhere from $15.00 to the list price at some of the smaller independent bookstores, but even these businesses will often take a hit financially to get their customers in. Sure, they know that by doing this perhaps the parent or guardian will walk out with something for themselves, but they also know that they are building a base of repeat customers.

It was so exciting to see children buying the fourth book Goblet of Fire. I remember vividly their saucer shaped eyes as they would lift the largest book to date in the series. But these children would begin reading before they were even out of the stores. Some were just sitting and reading on the floor of the bookstores. It’s not every book that can garner this kind of excitement.

Zipes also gives his opinion regarding the evaluation of children’s literature as “Indicat[ing] no more and no less that certain markets and elite groups in America have determined that particular books are worth reading, and they have successfully marketed their products.” One of Zipes’ ongoing gripes with children’s literature is its commodification. This is certainly true and the Harry Potter books are a good example of this, but the end result, justifies the means, meaning that if you can get children to read and get them excited about reading, then it becomes increasingly easier to engage them in further reading. Maybe I’m wrong in this assumption and perhaps Zipes is correct, but that becomes a larger discussion to be had at another time.

The caveat to this argument though is that even books that have been awarded The Newberry which is this countries most prestigious award for children’s literature; these books are often denigrated by the Conservatives and even banned from some libraries. The most recent case being the uproar over the use of the anatomically correct term “scrotum” on the first page of The Higher Power of Lucky by Susan Patron this year’s Newberry Winner. Not only were parents outraged, but sadly, even some librarians felt the need to censor the book either of their own volition or from threats from their administrations or PTAs. This is a sad tragic state of affairs and one that needs to be addressed. Censorship and our children is a prickly issue that will no doubt continue but a cautionary tale that bares further examination. Perhaps we should throw Ms. Patron’s book onto the fire with all the Potter books? Or perhaps those of us, who really care, should buy extra copies and donate to libraries and schools that can’t justify to buy them for reasons mentioned above.

Zipes wrote his essay in 2002. At the time of the printing of the book, only four of the Harry Potter series had been published. The essay examines the Potter franchise but also compares it to writers and works that he feels are far superior—Phillip Pullman’s His Dark Materials, William Steig author of the Shrek books; Donna Jo Napoli that writes modern interpretations of classic folk and fairy tales and Francesca Lia Block writing contemporary fairy tales for teenagers. Of these, I am only familiar with a few, Pullman chief among them. And even though I agree that Pullman’s books are far more complex theoretically and thematically, I also feel that Rowling’s series will ultimately achieve a far greater place in the overall pantheon of children’s literature. As did the Tolkien books that were initially perceived as somewhat less than adequate when first published; they have since achieved a mythic status.

Zipes criticizes Rowling’s books (1-4) because the characters and events, “remain basically the same and repeat the actions and gestures in novel after novel.” He criticizes her treatment of evil as simplistic in this day and age. But knowing that only the first four books had been written, I wonder how Zipes will examine the overall journey of the young boy marked by fate to destroy the evil Voldemort or be destroyed himself. It is ultimately a hero’s journey in the style of Joseph Campbell. Not only does Harry grapple with the idea of vengeance, but what he must ultimately face within himself—the potential for evil. What will be revealed in the final book will undoubtedly show not only the young readers, but Rowling’s critics like Zipes that Harry’s journey may lead to the ultimate sacrifice of either himself or someone he loves. There were critics of Disney’s The Lion King when Simba’s Father was killed. Some parents felt that the images and manner of his death were too scary and too shocking for young children. The real truth is that we lived in a completely benign society. Until the Oklahoma City bombing and then the attacks on the World Trace Center in 2001 we spent the majority of our time looking through life through rose colored glasses. We sheltered ourselves and our children (and I will boldly state here that I am referring to white middle-class America) from grief, poverty, death and disease. The fact that Disney showed the death of Simba’s Father was an event that would shape the young cub to become a responsible brave adult. We can only hope that the outcome of the seventh and final Potter book will do the same without a hint of rose-colored glasses. Without anthropomorphized animal characters, the record of Harry’s epic discovery of self-identity becomes even more tangible to young readers. Visually, the film treatments have showed this as they become darker not only in their storylines, but also in the visual world of the art direction.

The books have become increasingly dark, with the stakes rising ever faster. The loss of major characters such as Harry’s Godfather Sirius Black; the death of Albus Dumbledore at the hands of Severus Snape have all lead the audience on an ever-increasing tension filled, emotional rollercoaster. I envy the young reader experiencing these books for the first time. As an adult, the effects and emotional responses resonate on a very different frequency.

I am eager to see the film, and will eagerly await the arrival of my copy of the last book. I will, like so many others, open the front cover with a bit of trepidation. After the emotional blow of the death of Dumbledore, and the rampant rumors of at least two characters dying in the last book, I enter the wizarding world with a sense of dread . . . and a sense of hope. It is this hope that drives the characters. A “fool’s hope” as Dumbledore might call it. But J. K. Rowling has given our contemporary children an iconic symbol of three young people who must grow, struggle and ultimately make decisions that will change their world forever. But they do this in their struggle for good.

Therein lies the hope and the lesson to be had—the ability for an individual, and in this case a young boy as protagonist, to lead by example facing his fears and playing a part in restoring balance in the world. The great mythic characters from literature and film of the past century have done no less—Frodo, The Pevensie children, et.al., Luke Skywalker, Lyra, Harry Potter among others. Let’s hope that authors keep writing these stories. The journey is part of the growing.