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I watched it today online, having missed it last night. Two observations:

1) My goodness, what a beautiful woman JKR is. Beautiful and unusual, with that strange crooked smile, but beautiful. That's something that's not often spoken about, but I know that if I knew her in person I would have serious trouble not to fall for her, hard.

2) JKR is a pretty ruthless woman. She in effect turned the whole thing into a JKR story - an affair of heroic matriarchs holding families together in reduced circumstances, valiant soldiers standing up against impossible odds, tragedy and triumph. It was a fine story, but like all works of art it was created by exclusion. JKR focused on a single strand of her descent, namely her mother's French grandfather - one-sixteenth of the possible lines of investigation - and managed to find all the things that suited her. I wonder whether she looked in any other direction, but if she did, we aren't told. Typically, she spoke several times of how her mother would have loved some features of the story, but never mentioned her father at all, even when she found evidence that her great-grandfather had been a war hero, gaining a well-deserved Croix de Guerre for a heroic rearguard action in which he took command of a squad covering the retreat of his regiment after severn hours of resistance against overwhelming German forces. Rowling's father was an army officer, but she even associates heroism in war with her mother and the female side of her family. JK Rowling, maker of heroes, has actually built a heroic legend out of her own family background; by which I don't mean that anything she said was false or misrepresented, but that she selected those things that were emotionally significant and valuable to her, so that, even though every detail of the story is true, the story as a whole is a product of JK Rowling's imagination.

(The rumour goes that JKR's father was - not to use stronger language - a very difficult parent indeed, and that if any Rowling character reflects him, it's probably Lucius Malfoy.)
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And it throws an interesting light on JK Rowling's own understanding of Christianity. In this article, she claims that the HP series is basically Christian. But she also claims - read the last three paragraphs - that the current Pope belongs to "the lunatic fringe" of Christianity. I'm afraid that what we have here, however incredible it may seem, is a survival, in the twenty-first century, of that English pathology that led nineteenth-century religious writers to call Catholicism "sectarian"; the ecclesiastical version of the "Fog in the Channel, Continent cut off" mentality.
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I have often found myself in the position of having to say: "You are talking nonsense. I know what Fascists are like. I have met them in considerable number since I was a child. I was born in the same country as Fascism. I have studied Fascism as a historian. [insert personal or group name] may be a detestable person, and his/her/their views may be obnoxious, but they are not Fascist. Do not cheapen real evil."

Now I am worried I may have to start saying: "You are talking nonsense. I know what Communists are like. I have met them in considerable numbers since I was a child. I was born in a country where Communism was a power in the land. I have studied Communism as a historian. President Obama may be a detestable person - or not - and his view may be obnoxious - or not - but he is no Communist. Do not cheapen real evil."

You don't believe me? http://townhall.com/columnists/LauraHollis/2009/10/21/they%E2%80%99re_all_communists
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Why in God's name did I ever place my essay on JKR's religion on FA? Most of the responses I received have been appalling: those who did not insist that Christianity meant anything they wanted it to mean simply imagined that I was criticizing JKR for not holding it, on the supposition - which I explicitly denied dozens of times - that you cannot be a decent person without being Christian. God Almighty, the whole damned essay begins with me denying that Christian is a term of moral approval! Do these idiots even know how to read, or do they just play with letters like babies or monkeys?
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Yesterday’s brief contact with the creatures who populate such places as f_w had one positive effect: it made me think again about the Dumbledore issue. And decide that I was wrong at least on one issue.Read more... )


Post-scriptum: to the lurkers and the wunkers

I do not expect honesty from your likes, especially honesty to yourselves. But if you had any real sense of humour, let alone any honesty, you would realize just how ridiculous your repeated references to stalking really are. Who, exactly, is stalking who? It has been over a year since I had some fun at the expense of PirateJenny and her beliefs; and for over a year this person must have regularly spent some of her time lurking on my blog, carefully blinding herself to anything she might find sympathetic or unobjectionable, until she could finally lay her hands on something she could somehow distort and denounce. Does she imagine that I have ever given her and her follies a second thought? If she has been wasting her time here for so long, she should know that I have never once mentioned her since. It has been nearly as long since I drove DreamerMarie to inarticulate rage by pointing out that parricide is not nice; and still she waits for some opportunity to do me some harm. It has been nearly two years since I bounced the vain Queen Pretty Arse from my blog, and more than two years since I gave Waltraute a lesson in invective – in an exchange of pleasantries started by her; and still those words evidently smart. Do you know, ladies, that until yesterday, I had forgotten that any of you was alive? You have, obviously, no honesty, no honour, and no common sense; the way you elaborately and deliberately distort what you read – which makes it perfectly useless to answer any of your lies – proves it beyond debate. But if you had, then the question – Who is stalking who? – would have to reach you where you live. And now some advice: get yourselves a life, the lot of you. One life between so many stalkers does not seem too much to ask. Start doing something interesting, like, I don’t know, watching raisins dry. Anything would be more profitable, more useful, less time-wasting, than to keep stalking someone who hardly notices you exist, and who would be, if anything, rather tempted to arrogance by knowing that you hate him so obsessively. For the hatred of your likes is easily taken as a compliment.
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In her private life, JK Rowling is a fairly typical, though not slavish, member of the moderately educated left. Her honesty to her own imagination, though, has been leading her in all sorts of directions which seem increasingly incompatible with the ordinary sort of left-wing attitudes prevalent in Britain. In her private life, after a few traumatic years as a single mother, she lends her face to the group that represents single-parent families; in the novels, there are no single-parent families at all, and the most attractive family by far is the largest. In her private life, she is a feminist; in the novels, she delivers a strikingly attractive picture of not merely male, but patriarchal authority and wisdom. In her private life, she talks nonsense about Susan Pevensie “discovering sex” and C.S.Lewis “punishing her” for it; in Goblet of Fire, she delivers a delightful and truthful account of Harry and co. fumbling towards the other sex – and if she gets the details of male love totally wrong in Half-Blood Prince, she at least continues with a picture of teen-agers growing towards heterosexual love and marriage. One in which, by the way, and contrary to contemporary clichés, sex as such is of very minor importance indeed – so much for teen-agers’ supposedly rioting hormones. In her private life, she has clearly stated that she does not approve of boarding schools (in their peculiar British form, with its class and political overtones, as “public schools”); but the novels are based on a brilliant and magnetic vision of all the peculiar glamour and romance of this very peculiar British institution, to the point that they have actually contributed both to an increase in the number of boarding school students, and to a tendency in the British state school system towards a closer imitation of “public schools”. And then there are the Umbridge chapters of Order of the Phoenix, with Umbridge teaching “non-violent conflict resolution and negotiation”, and Harry leading an underground class in the use of weapons; one might practically be reading a tract by an American right-to-bear-arms supporter.

Now, I think there is evidence elsewhere that JKR does tend to react to her readers’ concerns and interests. The whole Tonks and Remus affair seems to me to have been put in to address fannish shipping concerns – or because, as I would argue, it was a most attractive and charming pairing. JKR found it, found it attractive, and used it – but less felicitously than [livejournal.com profile] kikei or [livejournal.com profile] pandoraculpa, possibly exactly because it was imitative. The revelation of Blaise Zabini’s identity and background is in my view less successful (here I tread on poisoned ground: some scumbag deliberately lied about my views in f_w, to make me sound like a racist, leading to the most unnecessary flamewar I ever fought) but reflects just as much a reaction to fannish concerns. The mere throwaway name of the Slytherin had roused more fan interest than any other minor character, not exluding Grindelwald; owing, as I argued long ago, to the fact that it suggests two of the “coolest” nationalities possible, French and/or Italian. (There was also a pathetically ignorant attempt to prove that someone called Blaise could possibly be female; of which, the least said, the better.) I think that the sudden revelation of a wholly different descent represents JKR’s irritation at all the froth generated by a mere name. So JKR does, in my view, react to reader concerns.

I think, however, that with the growth of her success and influence, a much more basic anxiety must have touched her mind. However little she may read of criticism, review and debate – and she could never keep up with the cataracts of argument that take place daily across six continents – she must have started to notice that most of those who dislike her world, treat her as ideologically unsound, or attack her writing, tend to come from the media and literary left; while many of her keenest and most outspoken defenders not only come from the right but have a decidedly conservative axe to grind. Most of all, she must be clear in her mind – for she is not stupid – that her own work does provide them with plenty of ammunition.

So, I think, she decided to do something to balance matters.

In one feature, she has done it with such artistic integrity and insight that it has gone unnoticed. The Dumbledore family, broken by tragedy that turns brother against brother and hag-ridden by secrets, makes a striking counterpart to the Weasleys, and heavily qualifies what had been so far an almost one-sided view of the family as a fortress. And at the same time, she manages to slip in, credibly and imaginatively, a classic left-wing topic – unhappiness and oppression come from outside, from “society”. The Dumbledores are ruined by the brutal and stupid assault on their daughter, and by the oppressive Ministry laws that force the father into Azkaban and the mother into taking the family into virtual concealment. As a result, circumstances deprive brilliant young Albus of the intellectual companionship that is his natural environment, forcing him back into the restricted world of his brother; and his brother, in turn, develops the surly and very negative attitude that will haunt them both. This leads in turn to Albus being seduced – whether sexually or not it does not matter – by Grindelwald, a breath of fresh air to the virtually exiled teen-ager. It is not, as in the most shallow and doctrinaire left attitudes, exclusively the fault of society; the arrogance of Mrs.Dumbledore, the resentment of Aberforth, make their own contribution to the picture of unhappiness and constriction; but the primary impulse is from an oppressive state of society. And as it is done with such a light touch, with such keen observation and truth to life, that we never even stop to think about the socio-political message it conveys. Also, to that extent, it shows that a left-wing viewpoint has something to say about society that is not merely escapist or doctrinaire, that it is grounded in real experience. Oppression does exist. People may be ruined and twisted from outside as well as from inside. Lives may be ruined by burdens they are not responsible for. All this is very true and very good.

However, the supposed revelation of Dumbledore’s homosexuality, though much more resonant, is far less felicitous. Of course, it has drawn a shower of praise from the usual suspects, from the detestable Peter Tatchell to, alas, my friend [livejournal.com profile] avus; and that is, in my view, just what JKR intended. She was not happy with the party tinge her work was acquiring – very much against her conscious will – and decided to reposition it in the most visible and blatant way. Whether she had always intended Dumbledore as an aged homosexual, or whether this is something she retconned into the previous six novels, is not relevant here; the point is that it is done so badly that it works against her conscious purpose. I have nothing against Potterverse characters being gay (though I do object to the perversity of [livejournal.com profile] switchknife and the like, who seem incapable of touching any male character without making him, not so much a homosexual, as an arse-bandit). My favourite candidates for the role, as I repeatedly said, are Harry himself, Dudley, and Moody, but I have no great objection to Dumbledore being one if you insist, ma’am. The point is however that there is nothing in Dumbledore that tends to suggest it.

As a homosexual correspondent pointed out on [livejournal.com profile] superversive’s LJ a while back, being homosexual does not just mean occasionally falling for pretty boys (or girls) or even having the occasional mad passion or great lifelong love. It means that your whole way of looking at the sexes, that is at the whole of society, is different. For ninety-seven per cent or so of mankind, the possibility of desire between (unrelated) man and woman is so natural that it is taken for granted, being factored in into professional, commercial, working, social relationships of every kind and quite across the board. Notice, for instance, how often married couples will consort with other married couples. It is at the heart of everything that is peculiar in the interplay of the sexes, from the conventions of chivalry to the cultural fear of rape.

For the remaining three per cent, however, this permanent potential for sexual desire is vested in their own sex. A homosexual man invests his own sex, especially the younger and more handsome of them, with what medieval English called daungier – the power and danger of possible attraction. Does anything that Dumbledore does tend to suggest it? It is possible, of course, to answer in the positive. He can be said to be virtually idolatrous towards handsome, green-eyed Harry Potter, and at the same to hide away from him – especially in Order of the Phoenix - with exaggerated caution, as a man would from a possible object of attraction. The problem is however that none of these things is ever presented as in any way strange or excessive or out of the norm. If Dumbledore admires Harry, then so do the rest of us. If Dumbledore keeps away from Harry, we know he has the best possible reason – with Voldemort in Harry’s mind, Harry is a possible spy at court. What is more, Dumbledore takes immediate measures to remove the problem, ordering Harry to study Occlumency.

But whether or not JKR actually meant it from the beginning, the fact is that the supposed revelation of Dumbledore’s sexual tendencies could not have been worse managed. First, as I pointed out last time, it rests on an odious fallacy, rooted mostly in female suspicion and jealousy – that passionate male friendships must have something sexual at the bottom of them. Second, its impact on Dumbledore is wholly negative. There is none even of the reparative function that, in my view, homosexual passion does afford to damaged spirits. It is quite literally a seduction into evil. It allows Grindelwald to suspend Dumbledore’ sense of morality and critical intellect, drives him to a fraudulent world of sick fantasy and the most debased kind of wish-fulfilment and ego tripping, connects him, in short, with everything that is vicious and depraved. And it leaves Dumbledore with a permanent suspicion of himself – worse, with a sick disgust of himself and his motives – that makes him permanently less effective as an opponent of evil. If an anti-gay campaigner had wanted to present a profoundly negative view of homosexual passion, he or she could not possibly have done a better job of it.

As I said, Peter Tatchell and the usual suspects are cock-a-hoop. What is it about a certain kind of fanatic, that always leads him to applaud everything that is most contrary both to his interests and to his beliefs?
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Almost as soon as I started this LJ a few years ago, I fought my first flamewar – the first of many. The issue was my frank statement that I detested one particular fanfic genre, namely Marauder slash. Among my stronget reasons to object to it was what I described as an ignorant and jealous female reaction to male friendship: hello, here are a bunch of guys doing everything together – they must be having it off in secret, since of course guys only ever think of one thing, and it is inconceivable that they should have any interest in anything except the one thing.

I detested and still detest that attitude. You may therefore imagine my pleasure when I found that JKR had, not just declared that Dumbledore was homosexual, but that he was homosexual IN THAT, as a teen-ager – as a teen-ager, mind you – he had been infatuated with the handsome and brilliant Grindelwald. Because, you know, infatuation – especially in the case of a brilliant intellect starved of intellectual companionship – has no proper home except the crotch!

This has confirmed something I was already sure of in my own mind: that male love, of whatever kind, is a closed book to JKR. She knows that it exists, but has no more access to its grammar and syntax, its content and meaning and forms of manifestation, than I to Chinese. I became certain of this when, in Half-Blood Prince, JKR tried to chronicle the journey of Harry’s mind towards the realization of his love for Ginny. The climax of this sequence is the famous (for all the wrong reason) image of the “beast” within Harry “roaring in triumph” – which is, I believe, the most widely mocked passage in JKR’s whole work, and not for no reason either. But the whole sequence, from beginning to end, rings as false as brass for gold. There are perhaps some aspects of daily life in which I am less qualified than others: but the way and the stages by which men fall in love are not among them. I have been deeply, intensely, painfully in love four times in my life, and I remember them all with a blinding clarity. And JKR simply got everything wrong. To begin with, Harry’s melodramatic fears about the reaction of Ginny’s brothers to his loving her (which assumes that all males, even decent Weasleys, suddenly turn into gibbering monsters where anyone shows interest in their sisters) are nonsense. A man experiencing love, and, what is more, experiencing it for the first time, does not envisage obstacles. If any happen, he assumes that they will go down, like the walls of Jericho, at the sound of the trumpets of his love. The only thing he fears is the girl herself; he will turn up at her door twenty times before he finds the courage to ring the bell once, he will send her unsigned Valentines written with his left hand from improbable places, and if he ever gets up the nerve to tell her what he means (and she will, by then, have got the point long since – unless she is preternaturally stupid), he will be in an agony of terror till she has finished going through the usual platitudes about being just friends. Roaring beasts? Love is more likely to make Bayard or Achilles into a terrified sheep; or, as I put it rather more poetically in some lines to Debbie,

O Love, the mountains bend their proud heads down,
And lions hide in your lap their royal frown.

JKR’s language suggests someone who regards male love as something wholly aggressive, brutal in nature, and vaguely threatening: the opposite of the effect of actual love on an actual male human being.

What I find strange, passing strange, is that this beautiful and attractive young woman, twice married, a writer of great talent and keen observation, should be so unfamiliar, not only with the inwardness of male love, but even with the visible externals – the convulsions of terror, the profusions of poetry, the lover turning up at her address forty times only not to ring the bell once. In her three decades of life, and in spite of her beauty and charm, has no man ever courted her in the normal way? Or is it that she is, somehow, simply incapable of perceiving these things? In the following essay, I point out how a masterpiece of the movie art was almost, but thankfully not quite, ruined by the incapacity of its all-male creative crew to even perceive how women acted and moved; and I do wonder whether we are getting to the point where women suffer from a similar disconnect to men. It would not be a good thing, if so.
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I think the people who disapprove of JKR's style simply have no notion of what good writing is about. JKR - I will defend this statement in an essay if I have to - has a gift for putting in just as much detail as is strictly necessary to create a setting and move the story along, and her narrative rhythm is unimproveable.

However, there is one serious problem with her writing: her grammar is only moderate. I was re-reading Philosopher's stone when the following sentence leapt at me and tried to bite a chunk out of my nose: Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before he met Draco Malfoy. Can't see it? How about: Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he would hate more than Dudley, but that was before he met Draco Malfoy? Or, better still, Harry had never believed he would meet a boy more hateful than Dudley, but that was before he met Draco Malfoy?

You see then, that the sequence of tenses in the sentence is wrong. A definite tense, such as that past tense, cannot follow a subjunctive. It's obvious: you cannot state as fact ("hated", in the past) something that depends on a hypothesis ("believed he would meet"). Like most good grammar, this depends on logic. What is more, it is bad style; too many past tenses dangling from successive clauses - had, hated, met. The sentence is effective as a stage-setting, looking both back to the horrors of the first chapter and to the unpleasant meetings already described with Draco, and carries its own nice mini-climax in the closing clause, but that was before..., with delicate but audible irony. It shows the quality of JKR as a writer, but is hurt by a silly and unnecessary mistake.

I am also certain that I read, in Order of the Phoenix, a sentence which used the dialectal English form he was sat instead of the correct he was sitting, but I am not sure where it is.

So I would like to have an open invitation - a competition, if you will, though there are no prizes. Can someone else find me genuine grammatical errors of this kind in JKR's prose? Bear in mind that grammar is not usage; a sentence may be strange in terms of normal usage, but grammatically correct. Grammar is the strong underpinning of rules in the language. And, incidentally, contrary to common superstition, the split infinitive is not ungrammatical in English, and any post pointing one out will be deleted.

Otherwise, I welcome anyone who has anything to point out; and that includes lurkers and people who are otherwise banned from commenting here. Happy hunting, everyone!

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