At the end of the year, I sent Juliet off to a new reader, and I thank her very much for slogging her way through my words. And also for writing back, sending me encouragements not to stop there. I won’t embaress this person by naming her here, but knowing her as a person—however distantly—and as a professional in the publishing industry, means that I attach importance to her words. While she may qualifiy, or rather disqualify, her judgement, it was precisely the kick that I needed to stir me to action.
So yesterday I swatted up my list of agents, and sent out tentative enquiries as to submitting the ms. It is too early to know if any of this will come to anything, but even as I type, Juliet is on her way to other hands, eyes, and opinions.
Now that Juliet is out of my hands, and launched upon the world, for better or worse—she may find her way, but she may just as likely return home, exhausted to sleep for a while within the covers of the folders on my desk—I have been thinking about what is the subject and the matter of the book as I attempt to advance on the others.
It is clear to me that—anthropomorphic rabbits aside—this is a coming of age tale: how Juliet comes to terms with herself, with her new life, with herself, and her abilities, and qualities. This is the novel that I wanted to write. Yet, alongside those events, and the other characters’ actions, there is another presence in the novel.
I never name the place where she lives, but for me it is the Sussex countryside where I played and roamed and explored when I was young. At that time, stumbling onto a sort of bucolic Narnia just through the next thicket, would not have surprised me. This was the possibility that was always there, waiting, suspended, just around the corner. I am not certain in this fenced and frightened time that children still have the liberty to wander as we did, but I am pretty sure that the desire to do so, to go out and invent the land, that that need is still there.
This possibility offered by the land—or the sense of ‘place’, for want of a better term—drawn from my own experience, is also present in one of my other working manuscripts. The opening scene of Tooth—for the moment, at any rate—takes place with the protangonists routing for flints in a freshly ploughed field. Exactly the sort of joyful and pointless thing that we got up to.
As I now have four books on the boiler (well, three, if I consider that Juliet is off the boil, and may be revised, but is, to all intents and purposes, finished as is) it is also interesting to look at the themes. While they are all in the magical fantasy canon, there are nonetheless two different undercurrents running in there.
Juliet and Died both have elements of terror in them. Terror, not horror. Horror for me is somewhat explicit. Terror is the feeling of unease lying behind the events and the characters. It is not explicite descriptions, but an atmosphere of disturbance and ill ease.
Pirates, and the latest sketches currently living under the name of Tooth, are on the other hand, adventures. It is perhaps caricatural—and revealing—that it never occurred to me that the principal character of Pirates was anything but male, even if his principal opponent is a very strong-willed girl (the good baddie). In fact, she is a much stronger character than Colin, and he does spend much of the plot being a wimp.
Tooth, came naturally with a female protagonist (probably as, like Juliet and Died it is being written with Kim in mind), but the plot is much more complicated, and I am currently battling on paper with lists of characters, groups, collections of people, waiting for the more forceful ones to push their way to the surface and impose their points of view. Lots of them will inevitably be male. I can’t help that. It’s the world that they live in. Although the absence of women, and the fact that my protagonist—not to say hero/heroine—is female, is part of the story/plot.
Why is it important to bring in strong female characters?
For a start, I’m pretty sure that children identify with strong characters. I don’t think it matters that much to them whether they are male or female. Just that if they are strong, they can feel for them in their struggle. Secondly, if girls can get a strong role—and not just as good baddies—it does provide a form of role model saying, Yes, you can do this. Girls can give as good as they get, and better even. As a father of three quite strong (and complex, and differing) girls, I am definately aware of this.
And finally, so many adventure stories are male-orientated. It is important that female characters impose themselves in the genre. I personally don’t have any qualms about my being an old white male trying to write this material: after all, Lyra—one of the most remarquable ‘heros’ of recent times—was also written by an old white male—makes us sound like gorillas, doesn’t it?—and she is absolutely marvellous. Would that I can become half as good a writer as Pullman is.
Curiously this was the book that I read the most in 2005, and I can’t really understand why…
I started reading the Harry Potter books when The Goblet of Fire was released in French, and I decided that I should perhaps read that one before Kim. I quickly read through the first ones, and then GOF, which, I’ll admit, shook me more than a little at the time, what with the sudden death of Cedric Diggory at the end. Even the intrusion of the Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup was rather scary, containing elements of the rise of fascism in Europe. In fact, the whole “pure blood”, “Death Eaters” and Voldemort business does seem to have very clear fascist overtones, and can be considered heavy matter for children’s reading. Not that I think children’s reading should be sanitised, just that it is a good idea, as a parent, to know what one’s children are reading, and to be ready to accompany them, and to answer questions.
As a reader, I still have problems with J.K.Rowling’s books. It is clear that she has built a solid and convincing world, a sort of mirror image of a certain type of children’s fiction—I’m sure that C.S.Lewis, for example, would feel perfectly at home in the Houses, and boarding school environment, that is Hogwarts. However her writing is leaden most of the time, her pacing is generally pretty off: both in Order of the Phoenix, and HBP, one has the feeling that she has to get some much of the backstory out of the way first that the climax is suddenly rushed. And the whole hunting-the-Horcrux-in-the-green-cave episode in HBP is a complete non-sequitur that reminds me of John le Carré’s The Honourable Schoolboy, when Jerry Westerby disappears off on a wild goose chase into the wilds of Indochina in a fascinating diversion that brings nothing positive to the story except echoes of Joseph Conrad, even if it is beautifully done.
Probably the thing that I retain most from JKR’s writing is that a strong plot, a coherent world, and credible (and complex) characters are more important than a developed or elegant style. Sure, that would be a bonus, but it is surely better to get the books out and read, than to get them perfect. I also get a very strong Dickensien feel from the books, particularly the descriptions of food, of gatherings, and the naming of characters.
I approached HBP with trepidation. I had heard, as a lot of others had, that an ‘important’ character would die. I did not believe that this would be Dumbledore, and, each time I have read the book, invariably, I found myself crying at his burial scene.
I have no qualms about revealing now that Dumbledore dies for two reasons: one, most of those who intend to read the book, have already done so, and secondly, to say that revealing he dies will ruin the book is, frankly, rubbish. This is not a whodunit. A book is not the ‘answer’ at the end. A book is the shared journey through the pages. In fact, were I working on the screen adaptation of the novel, I’d start with the funeral, and us the ceremony to recap the contents of the book, just to get the false suspense out of the way. Why he does [if he does..] is more interesting that the blunt statement: Dumbledore dies.
However, I am assuming that if you are reading me, you have either read the book, or you have no intention of doing so, so consider this a spoiler warning.
I read HBP a fourth time because JKR stated in an interview that Books 6 and 7 could be taken as two halves of the same book, and that there were a lot of clues as to the last tome inside this one. So I went hunting. This is what I find…
Harry and Ron are probably the most developed characters. This is normal. Harry is the hero, and Ron and the rest of the Weasley’s are his substitute family. But we have quite a bit of backstory on a few other characters, and that is interesting.
We know a lot about Snape, surprisingly enough. While it is logical that Book 6 provided Voldemort’s backstory, Book 5 provided Snape’s, with HBP filling in a few blanks. I will be quite clear: Snape is my most favourite character in the films, and I believe that Alan Rickman’s interpretation is masterful. Where the Snape in the books is sallow, dirty, and ambiguous, Rickman’s performance has majesty, menace personified (it is lucky he can fit so much into so little as his lines seem to get shorter and shorter in each film), and a voice that would make a statue tremble as he calls out its name. But, the major question is, Is Snape guilty?
My answer is no.
I base this on an overheard conversation that Hagrid reports to Harry.
From the Bloomsbury UK children’s edition, page 380:
“I dunno, harry, I shouldn’ta heard it all! I—well, I was comin’ outta the Forest the other evenin’ an’ I overheard ‘em talkin’—well, arguin’. Didn’t like te draw attention to meself, so I sorta sulked an’ tried not ter listen, but it was a – well, a heated discussion, an’ it wasn’ easy ter block it out.”
“Well?” Harry urged him, as Hagrid shuffled his enormous feet uneasily.
“Well—I jus’ heard Snape sayin’ Dumbledore took too much fer granted an’ maybe he—Snape—didn’ wan’ ter do it anymore—”
The conversation peters out with Harry and Hagrid trying to determine what ‘it’ was. So why put this in? It is obvious that JKR wants us to understand something. At the time we are lead to believe that this is probably searching Slytherin for evidence of Malfoy’s misdeeds, but why? To set us on a false trail.
Dumbledore knows he is being overheard. He is, after all, a most powerful wizard and he could easily (and silently) cloak the conversation. He knows Hagrid is there, in the same way that he knew Harry was under the Invisibility cloak in The Prisoner of Azkaban, and he knows that the conversation will be reported to Harry. He also knows that, when the time comes, it is necessary for Harry to know this. For if Snape ‘kills’ Dumbledore, it is on Dumbledore’s specific orders.
Go reread the chapter of the killing and you will see, quite clearly, that Dumbledore is reminding Snape of his duty and his engagement, not pleading for his life. But why?
[note I have just found a site that supports my theories, go see dumbledoreisnotdead.com ]
Dumbledore knows that only this ultimate sacrifice can allow a number of things to come to pass… What are these things?
One, and probably the most important, is to protect Malfoy. Dumbledore is, before being one of the most powerful wizards of his time, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and as such, he has a duty to protect his charges. At this point Malfoy has not committed the irreparable; in fact, he has serious doubts, and Dumbledore uses his last breath to encourage the boy, and show him that there is hope, that all is not inevitable, he can resist, and the Order will assist him. We saw from what Moaning Myrtle told us, that behind the façade, Malfoy is not at all at ease with what he has got himself into. Dumbledore offers him hope and forgiveness. In my opinion, Malfoy’s dilemma should be central to Book 7, as Harry will need allies in Voldemort’s camp.
The second point is precisely that: Who, after he has ‘killed’ Dumbledore, can ever doubt that Snape is the most faithful of Voldemort’s followers. Snape will be confirmed as the closest helper of the Dark Lord. Ready to help Harry, although Harry will probably not realise this until it is too late, blinded as he is by his hate for Snape. I expect Dumbledore’s portrait—sleeping peacefully at the end of HBP—to provide some explanations here, even if Harry doesn’t want to believe it.
Finally, Dumbledore, through his love for the school and for Harry, had to protect Harry. Why did he freeze Harry? Snape noticed that there were two broomsticks on the tower. He knew, or guessed that Harry was there under the Invisibility cape, but did nothing. He didn’t kill him either as Harry chased him through the school grounds. Dumbledore, making the sacrifice, like Harry’s mother before him, shows that Good Magic will always be more powerful that the Dark Arts.
And we should remember that Dumbledore’s familiar is, after all, a Phoenix. Expect surprises here… No, he won’t rise from the dead, but he will be back in Book 7.
But can Harry really beat Voldemort?
Voldemort is supposed to be the most powerful practitioner of the Dark Arts. He has mastered spells that Harry can’t even imagine. He has returned from the dead, and is quite prepared to do that again, and again… yet Harry was unable to attack Snape, or even perform a summoning spell, while frozen under the cape. And this boy thinks he can defeat the Dark Lord?
He will need help from Ron and Hermione, probably from Ginny as well as we know she has a strong character and a good way with hexes, and I doubt that she’ll let Harry let her go. And her parents will be horrified. Even more so as most of the Weasley children will probably come down on Harry’s side: don’t forget that while Fred and George love their work and a good jape as much as the next person, more than just monetarily, they feel they have a debt to Harry. After all, it was he they chose to give the Marauder’s Map to, not to Ron… (I fear Luna and Neville will also help, as they’re like that… Good loyal friends. I also fear for them, as it is likely that they could be the first victims.) Snape and Malfoy will have their parts to play, and without this combined assistance Harry will not be able to vanquish Voldemort.
But will Harry die?
JKR has stated quite clearly that there would be seven books and that’s all. The easiest way to make sure of this is to do a Conan-Doyle and to kill off your hero. (Well, at least he tried.)
I don’t think Harry will die. He will lose his scar, I’m pretty sure of that. But he won’t die, and neither will Voldemort necessarily. I see Voldemort as being banished into a non-life, trapped forever inside one of his part lives, one of his Horcruxes. This would be a far greater ‘punishment’ for his actions than just dying. Perhaps Sirius Black and the curtain in the department of mysteries plays a part in this banishment…
If Harry does live, I’d rather like to see one more book. A sort of “Twenty Years After”. When, rather than danger, Harry, Ron, Hermione and the others have to face the fact that they’ve grown up, that they have children of their own and jobs and responsibilities to the wizarding community, and all that that brings with it. It would be a fitting ending for this saga that having year by year watched the heroes and villains grow from children to adults, it also accompanies them onto to the next generation.
Well, I can wish.
