Have You Ever Heard of These "Potter" Books?

Obviously I read this the week it came out, but I haven’t had time to actually write it up. In fact, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to write it up. Why not? Because it’s been the most hyped tome since Jesus’ boys penned a little tract called “The New Testament.”

Maybe you’ve heard of it?

Is Potter Jesus? No. Anyone who blows a character out of proportion like the throngs of pre-teens at Barnes and Noble in Union Square needs to know this: fiction = lies. That said, there is some truth to the connection that these people (and lets’ be honest folks: there were some slightly “elder” folk in the midst) have with the characters. And that’s a testament to the genius that is J.K. Rowling.

I’ve had this argument with my more literary-minded friends before, thinking that they’re just kid-books. Or, worse yet, “sci-fi/fantasy” books. Hell, when I talked to my geek/nerd friends when the first books became popular in the U.S., they thought it was the gayest thing in the world to read Harry Potter (because it was “wack; not like The Lord of the Rings – there’s a great episode of “South Park” that echoes this sentiment).

Here’s the problem with both arguments. To begin: What’s wrong with science fiction or fantasy? How much of great literature actually falls under this category? Oh, that’s right, a whole bunch. Shall we do a little list of authors?

Orwell
Bradbury
Asimov
Tolkien
Verne
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

How about perhaps more of a stretch:

William Golding
Toni Morrison
James Joyce
Cormac McCarthy (who just won the Pulitzer)
Philip Roth

Fantastical elements are part and parcel of much of these latter authors' writing, and yet they aren’t classified in a specific “genre” so as not to denigrate their attempts. But it’s there nonetheless.

Magic is magic, boys and girls.

And there’s nothing wrong with that! In the September 2007 issue of Harper’s, an essay from Ursula Le Guin (a canonical sci-fi author – and I love the idea of canonical sci-fi) makes this point abundantly clear when she writes:

“Could he [Michael Chabon] not see that Cormac McCarthy – although everything in his book (except the wonderfully blatant use of an egregiously obscure vocabulary) was remarkably similar to a great many earlier works of science fiction about men crossing the country after a holocaust [speaking of his prize-winning novel, The Road] – could never under any circumstances be said to be a sci-fi writer, because Cormac McCarthy was a serious writer and so by definition incapable of lowering himself to commit genre?”

I’m not saying she thinks that McCarthy holds that opinion, but it’s pretty clear she thinks that the people who read him believe he isn’t “science fiction.” Le Guin’s highly sarcastic essay points out quite clearly the nature of the literary community, in it’s pedestal-placement of “high literature,” as totally ignoring the fact that if you’re going to sneer at “genre,” make sure your Ivory Tower isn’t built on it in the first place!

Moreover, by immediately placing something in a category, you are immediately shutting down any sort of constructive and objective facilities you might have. Considering that the first Potter book, The Sorcerer's Stone, is essentially a mystery novel that incorporates magic shows that it doesn’t easily fit into any genre, per se. It also helps that Rowling is an incredible writer.

Is “incredible” or “genius” too grand of terms? Maybe. But consider these two things: She’s a billionaire and you can read one of her 750 page novels in a day.

I don’t think I’m stretching those words too much.

What makes her so successful? Obviously, I wish I knew the formula, because then I’d be living in a castle in Scotland, too (although, I don’t actually have a desire to live in a castle in Scotland, but if that’s where all the billionaire authors hang out, that’s where my U-Haul will be pulling up to). Instead, though, you can point to a number of things. First, ease of reading. This is fiction at its best, because it is eminently readable. The sentences are not overly complex, the dialogue is natural and flows well, the explanations are short and yet provide information to complex ideas, and the story moves quickly.

Second (and obviously tied to the first) is that it works as YA literature – which I’ve discussed a few times. By being readable and appealing to a wide age-group, she created an audience virtually unparalleled in literature. Think of it this way: Ulysses, often considered the greatest novel ever written, is read by very few people, and understood by even less. You virtually can’t read it for deep understanding without guidance. On the flip-side, an 11-year-old girl can read Harry Potter, and not only get through it without difficulty, but probably give an adult insights they hadn’t even thought of. I’m sorry, but that’s genius.

I recently was speaking with my friend, and she asked me where I thought Potter would rank alongside The Chronicles of Narnia and The Lord of the Rings. I honestly think they will surpass them in terms of literary stature. They have characters that are more readily identifiable. The stories don’t carry any blatant religious overtones or subtexts. And, in an age of instant access, children are growing up with these books. People about to have children are reading these books. And millions and millions of copies are circulating, as well as concurrent movies (something Lewis and Tolkien did not have the luxury of). They have the immediacy of being in the minds of a huge audience, and they have a universality that shouldn’t have any trouble enduring. I love Lewis, and I appreciate Tolkien (I like the story, but I’m not thrilled with the execution), but I think Rowling has taken their tradition and brought it to a whole new place. Because unlike Lewis, her seven books tell one story, and unlike Tolkien, she wrote a populist text.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is an excellent finale to an excellent series. I think it satisfies everything that a fan could want, despite some protestations I’ve heard to the contrary. Rowling was unafraid to make strong decisions regarding characters (some die). Better yet, she answers the questions raised by the series (especially books 5 and 6), and she ends it in a way that leaves very little possibility for there to be more in the Potterverse.

And that’s a good thing.

Imagine you have the ability to write a winning lottery ticket whenever you want. But imagine doing so would destroy something beautiful each time. That’s what Rowling has the ability to do. By ending the last book the way she does, though, she pretty much closes down any future Harry Potter novels. What this means is that there won’t be any Superman IIIs or Batman and Robins or Rocky Vs. In other words, beloved franchises were ruined because of the desire to make more money. It may be over, and that may be sad, but it means the story is complete, and in time I think that’s for the best. I’d rather read all seven and be upset that there’s no more than read an eighth book and hate it.

Like I said, she’s a genius. And I’m willing to go toe-to-toe with anyone who disagrees.

I’m sure I can find a couple of people who might back me up.

Holla Back, Young 'Un!

(I've updated this with a bunch of links about YA Literature below)

I apologize. I might, at some point, go back and add more hyper-links, but I figured I’d left my readers waiting so long . . .

Leave me with my illusions!

Young Adult literature is often seen as being exactly that: books for
teenagers -- and that's it.

However, a lot of great books get unread by people who would probably
enjoy and appreciate the writing, if they either A) knew about the
books, and/or B) weren't embarrassed to be reading "kiddie" books.

Think about Harry Potter for example. Here were books (I find it hard to think that anyone considers them strictly YA anymore) that a lot of adults dismissed as being childish. But as they grew in popularity (and, for some reason, infamy), parents started reading the books to see “what all the fuss was about.” Well, it turns out the fuss was about awesome books that were just as much mystery/thrillers as they were children’s fantasy. And as Harry grew, so did the books, so that they got to be as mature (and annoying) as a teenager can be. It’s one of the many reasons J.K. Rowling is a genius.

There are billions of reasons, though . . .

Luckily for you all, I have no compunctions going into the kids
sections of book stores (looking like the bearded pedophile I am) and
buying these books to bring you good tidings.

The book is Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson, and it's a pretty
accurate look at the social hierarchy of high school from the
viewpoint of a freshman girl (I'm assuming, although I’m pretty sure more than one of you out there can relate). What's so great about the story is that there is clearly something that the narrator isn't telling us about what happened the
summer before she enters high school, and her quirks (such as rarely,
if ever speaking – like the title, Dave!), are somehow a result of this event. The mystery isn't really too hard to solve (one of the slight draw backs of the YA
genre), but it still is a good story.

An interesting thing about the YA genre is that just because a book is about children, it is not necessarily for children. For example, Curtis Sittenfeld’s Prep is about a young girl from “the wrong side of the tracks” who ends up at a prestigious (read: rich) prep school and has to deal with not only being poor, but also simply being in high school. The subject matter is similar to Speak but the style, the content, is most certainly more “adult” than “young.” This is not to say that YA necessarily means “childish” (or that, conversely, “adult” literature is necessarily mature) it’s just that Prep feels like you need to have had adult experiences to connect with, whereas Speak makes sense as long as you’ve had high school experience.

Of course, a lot of high school kids probably have more “experience” than a lot of adults, but that’s another topic.

But it is the readers’ experience that is what makes YA able to straddle age-groups. Because, whereas teenagers may not connect with all the aspects of Prep (although, to be fair, Sittenfeld does a good job of painting high school relationships), adults have been to high school – for many, it was the greatest time of their lives – so reading YA actually makes sense. Considering many adults have teenagers of their own (you wacky Baby Boomers!), connections might be made that are even deeper than for those of us without.

What’s different about YA as a genre – as opposed to, say, science fiction or romance – is that it is more about audience than about content. So, while Prep probably falls under “literary fiction,” a book like Holes, by Louis Sachar (Wayside School, motherfu*@&$s!) is considered in the same genre as Speak. And it should, if that genre was labeled “awesome” (and, really, shouldn’t there be an “awesome” genre. I wonder where Dewey would put those decimals?). Holes – which was made into an excellent movie with Shia LeBouf (of “Even, Stevens” fame – well, I watched it) and the Fonz – is the story of a boy who is falsely convicted of theft and sent to a juvenile camp in the desert, where all day, every day, the boys are made to dig holes (once again, ingenious title). Sachar does a great job weaving the various characters and plot-lines (including moving back-and-forth in time), and keeps it whimsical enough for kids to enjoy, while clever enough for adults to not feel ridiculous.

Because that’s the other great feature of good YA: it makes sure that both kids and adults feel comfortable encountering it (think of teens, and how they balance those two age groups. Then think how touchy they can be. The last thing you want to do with that audience is talk-down-to or baby-up the writing. Try to be honest about yourself as a teen when you do this exercise). For example, although Eragon is wildly popular as a book (I think I heard somewhere the movie was not very good – someone needs to tell Jeremy Irons to stay out of fantasy movies), realistically, they do a poor job addressing adults. At least, they do a poor job of adults who have grown up reading science fiction/fantasy. Maybe this is jealousy (okay, this is blatantly jealously – I want to be published, too! (Probably should start writing. . .)), but if Christopher Paolini had been thirty when he wrote the first book, instead of nineteen or so, I doubt these books would have been as much of a success. It’s so obvious that Paolini has read all the books I did while growing up (Dragonlance, David Eddings, Terry Brooks, Robert Jordan, Terry Goodkind, Anne McCaffery – you know, beat-the-nerd fodder), and his books seems to do a fair job “borrowing” from them.

Of course, as Jonathan Lethem (of Fortress of Solitude and Motherless Brooklyn fame) wrote in his article “The Ecstasy of Influence” (February 2007 issue of Harper’s), writers have been biting off each other since the beginning of time.

(NOTE: The brilliance of Lethem’s essay is that he goes through example of example of borrowing, only to show in the end that his entire essay was in fact constructed entirely of “plagiarism.” It’s very cool, and I highly recommend it. On the flip-side, as a big fan of web-comics, you can check out this douche-berry (it could be a word) to see the “dark side” of plagarism. I'm changing an earlier position, to an extent).

That little tangent aside, read YA literature – because it truly is literature. If you don’t believe me, think about these titles: Lord of the Flies, Huckleberry Finn, Ender’s Game (okay, the last one might be a stretch), and tell me they aren’t literature. Go ahead. I dare you.

I double dare you.

Physical challenge!

Suffolk County, NY -- Library

theliterarylink.com

Alan-YA

Wikipedia--YA Literature

If you haven't read the comments, I suggest you do so -- they're pretty interesting.