Book #11: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Harry Potter done growed up...
As a Harry Potter fan, the anticipation was high for the seventh and final installment in the JK Rowling series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Like many of the avid HP readers, after six books, I found myself attached to the story arcs of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The sixth book had left off with a massive number of questions to be answered, and so when HP7 came out in 2007, I felt like I was in a race against time to get through the book as quickly as possible, so as to avoid spoiler alerts. In any event, with the release of the highly-anticipated seventh film in the series, I decided to give HP7 another read to re-sharpen the sense of what the heck happened. I felt going in to the re-read that I had flown through it the first time in a matter of a couple of days and that there were things that didn't sink in as they did the second time around. Here's what I thought:

I liked the immediate action in the book. While there were a LOT of questions that needed answering, such a thick-looking book really got going right from the get-go. There was a lot of action early on, which kept setting a strong pace. Rowling does a great job early of setting the table and giving the reader samples of what's being served before the guests arrive for this conclusive dinner. While there are a lot of things going on at once, most readers will no doubt have been invested in her cast of characters for a while, and so it's a little easier to juggle what's going on. Besides, by the time the three main characters- Harry, Ron, and Hermione- head off on their own, things slow up considerably, leaving the reader plenty of time to get their head to stop thinking so fast.

Deathly Hallows: a lot warmer of a read the first time around, in 2007.

Time magazine's Richard Corliss wrote a rather misguided review of the film, saying that the movie lacked gusto. However, as an enthusiast of the books, I'm inclined to really appreciate the fact that the film captures the setting for a sizable middle portion of the book. It's less flashy than its predecessors (in both the book and the movie), it's cerebral, it's two/three people trying to crack a difficult puzzle and find a needle in a haystack, without the luxury of being on a farm. In the book, it's easier to read pages than to sit through a movie that doesn't seem to go anywhere. However- and the movie illustrates this quite effectively- the sense of frustration has gotten to the point of being able to feel it yourself. While Corliss may have only seen the films and forgone the books, what Deathly Hallows pt. 1 brought to the screen should have been abundant in information that would have helped fill in the gaps of the 6th HP movie.

There were times in Deathly Hallows that I felt Rowling had rushed to in order to keep the book at under 1000 pages. While I am not alone in thinking that wouldn't have been such a bad thing, I understand the hurried nature of such scenes as the break-in at Gringotts and the run-in at Malfoy Manor. I will say that these details did an admirable job of preparing the reader for the epic showdown at the Hogwarts Corral, which leads me to my next point...

I could have gone for a little more detail of what the hell was going on during the climactic battle. A life-or-death battle for control of the wizarding (and, it is assumed, the rest of the) world at Hogwarts certainly deserves a lot of attention. At times, it seemed as though the chaos ensuing inside the castle was described in just as chaotic a fashion. This isn't a full knock on Rowling as a writer; in fact, I am impressed that she undertakes the job of jumping to action involving the entire Weasley family as well as Harry and Voldemort, while sprinkling in the fate of Professor Snape. It was, however, difficult at times to adjust to the fact that there was so much going on in a matter of time where the pages yet to be read seemed to be dwindling rapidly. This, perhaps, is the best testament to the Deathly Hallows: it was such a page-turner that nervousness over what was going to happen at Hogwarts led to increased nervousness thanks to the fact that the end of the series was rapidly approaching.

All in all, the book was better the second time around, especially when in combination with the movie. I eagerly anticipate the film conclusion of the Harry Potter saga, particularly now that I've re-read HP7. There's a lot to be said for the series of books, and the best of which may be this: the time and energy invested in these characters has been quite an effort to tally. What it does, though, is endear the characters and story and world of wizarding to us all the more. And so, as the end of the line comes, all of that invested time, energy, and feelings towards this undertaking of a series are well-justified by Rowling's thrilling conclusion.

Book #10: Born Standing Up

Steve Martin: MUCH more than goofy accessories.
I never considered myself a huge fan of Steve Martin. Watching his films gave me the impression that he was a)typecast as a smug, smarmy guy, or b) WAS a smug and smarmy kind of guy. I had known he was a stand-up comedian, which begat a great SNL run, and acted as a springboard into film, in which he seemed to my mind to play the uptight "straight" guy. However, I very much enjoy autobiographies. This is simply because- public persona or not- the story is in the words of the subject itself. There's a lot to be said for a story that comes right from the source. In any event, I decided to pick up Steve Martin's "Born Standing Up", which documents Martin's early efforts in the comic realm to his rise to superstardom.

Martin's beginnings are indicative of what is so commonly heard in show business: lots of repitition, lots of practice and hard work. Anyone who's read Malcolm Gladwell's "Outliers" knows that success is born of a marriage of hard work and opportunity. Martin is no different. What is refreshing is to get an account of this process as it went on, step by step. While there were tremendous amounts of detail (some of which may not have been all that necessary), it's a testament to the kind of guy Steve Martin is: recognizant of his roots and the people who lent a hand along the way, however large a role they may or may not have had. One of the finest examples of this is when Martin waxes nostalgic for the magician who got him his first gig working in the magic shop at Disneyland. Again, refreshing to hear that account at the ground floor.

The fondness for which Martin seems to regard his beginnings are really sewn up with his acknowledgment that making it big was not necessarily the best thing to happen to him. As he describes, "I realize that I misunderstood what my last year of stand-up was about. I had become a party host, presiding not over timing and ideas but over a celebratory bash of my own making." This admission brings a sense of realness to what Martin must have gone through, while at the same time making a subtle suggestion to the reader, whether they are an aspiring comic or not: savor it. Savor all of it. The top isn't all gravy, and when and if you reach the top, you may be surprised by how little you can recall of the joys of being in pursuit of the elusive brass ring.

The man's a genius simply for transitioning between the banjo and the top of the heap

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this narrative of an awkward guy whose dedication to the absurd and- perhaps more importantly- the precision needed to nail the absurd in its most pure and sphincter-tightening awkwardness paid off. At the same time, Martin addresses the reader in a tone that is part-troubador, part-poet, part-romantic, part-cynic; all of these hats fit and come together to paint a picture which many can relate to, and these hats don't needed the added distinction of an arrow going through them.

Book #9: 1984

Orwell's "MCMLXXXIV"

During my term teaching abroad, I took advantage of the AIS library and read a number of classics. The most interesting from the perspective of a history nerd was inarguably George Orwell's "Animal Farm". The parallels between the book and the Russian Revolution in particular were pretty well laid-out in a narrative sense by Orwell. I'd imagine the story had an even more profound impact as it was initially released. In any event, it quickly becamse a favorite of mine. Something about the conclusion of the story struck me as an unfamiliar mix of dread, fear, and legitimate revulsion which literature so rarely genuinely affects me beyond general interest and question-raising/asking. As a result, I thought "1984" would be an appropriate follow-up.

As a disclaimer, Orwell didn't write bright and shiny books. In these cases, the book is far from it. The story is about Winston Smith, who works in London, which has changed drastically in the days since WWII. Smith's inner conflict stems from the fact that he struggles with the fact that he still has memories of pre-Ministry London and life. This is a problem because the Party (THE party, the unquestioned authority of every facet of life), would not have any of their members having any sort of recollection; such a preposterous idea would leave the thinker subject to death, which would be fairly easy to cover up, as history is constantly being re-written to the specifications of Big Brother, the mysterious leader of the Party.

As Smith fights to feel something, anything, he is indirectly seduced by a mysterious female member of the Anti-Sex League (libido is also controlled by Big Brother). It's generally a world where every aspect of life is closely monitored, rigidly censured, and- by sheer design- impossible to buck; the thought of "other" is heresy in the highest form (sound familiar?). The three-act epic has an inescapable arc which summarizes Winston's predicament in this world which he did not ask for, and which we are led to believe did not announce itself but rather crept up on the people. Act one shows that Smith is forced to live in fear based on his every movement and thought. Act two starts with a radical idea so unthinkable, Winston's initial reaction to it (spoiler alert: love) is internally panic-filled. This love affair doesn't seem normal. It's bizzarre reading this book and feeling like love itself is a taboo subject to the extent that much of the affair between Winston and Julia is spent in such an enrapturingly awkward veil of secrecy. That unfamiliar sentiment is what makes the story all the more alluring. I found myself so badly wanting to understand HOW such a thing is possible, even in a work of fiction.

Van Halen's "1984"...significantly more of a feel-good effort.
Act three, Orwell's genius as a writer fluorishes, as he does what I consider to be a masterful job of getting inside this concept of a most disturbing world, complete with the utter and total breakdown of both Winston and Julia. Not only does he document the breakdown, but he also documents the PAINSTAKING process by which they are dismantled emotionally. It culminates with such a thorough scene of emotional, mental, and spiritual dismemberment that words hardly do it justice. It was, in short, a complete mastery of what is at the core of heartlessness and evil. It gave me chills, reading this new idea of punishment. In the end, Winston is a hollow shell of a man who comes to find that this world created and run has decimated his core of being to the point of defeat.

As dysfunctional as Oceania is made to be in this work, I found myself mesmerized by it. It's such a thought-provoking book, while at the same time, a head-scratcher and a story that forces the reader to say "what the hell was that?" It's immediately shot up to the upper echelon of books I've read. Heavy stuff, but well worth the effort for a piece of work that legitimately moves you.

Book #8: Tuck Everlasting

Tuck Everlasting: slightly less-than-inspiring cover

For my eighth book in the 100-book quest, I went back and re-read Natalie Babbitt's "Tuck Everlasting". For those unfamiliar with the story, Winne Foster is a girl in the 19th century who runs away and stumbles upon the Tuck family, who are blessed/cursed with eternal life after drinking from a spring of immortality. As a result of this, they live inconspicuously as recluses in the wood of a small town, popping up every generation or so to essentially gauge the change in social climate.

Winnie learns that the idea of living forever isn't all that it's cracked up to be. In addition, a mysterious man has been following her in order to find the source of this elixir of eternal life so that he can bottle and market this substance. Meanwhile, Winnie begins falling for the son of the Tucks, which becomes one of a few weird subplots of this book. Got it? Okay, let's dive into some reaction...

I suppose the first thing I should have taken into account when I decided to re-read it was that I HAD read it in elementary school...and couldn't remember some pretty essential details, most notably what happens to the man in the yellow suit (he doesn't adopt a monkey), and what happens to Winnie Foster (this was a source of concern both then and now, as I kept thinking of Danica McKellar and what her fate would be). While it made for good incentive to continue reading, the flow of the story did not. Perhaps I'm nitpicking a book intended for reading groups among 5th graders, but I just felt the story to lack punch. Even the Tucks' collective fate felt a little listless. If this is what Babbitt intended when dealing with a family who could never die, then it's an admirable work. Otherwise, I found myself reading for the sake of finishing a book (my own curse, since immortality seems a bit out of reach).
Could have used more monkeys to go with that suit

While the man in the yellow suit certainly made things a little more interesting, in the end it seemed a minor ripple in the pond of the story. The fate of the Tuck family and Winnie Foster was paramount to the plot of Tuck Everlasting. As for Winnie's decision to drink the water and stay with Jesse, the Tuck's son... young love in the 19th century wasn't very intriguing. The internal conflict of trying to read this from the perspective of a 5th grader was, in actuality, more intriguing than the story itself. It made for a lot of question-asking, as school children should be wont to do. Why wouldn't the Tucks work to destroy the spring if they wanted to keep people in the future from drinking the water? Why not just kill Winnie and any other witnesses to the spring? Why am I reading this?

In the end, the story wrapped up with what seemed like a well-wrapped-up story. And maybe it was just that simple. Which was ultimately what I did not like about the story. The pondering of immortality and what it may or may not entail wasn't enough to make me take hold of what Babbitt was offering here...

Winnie Cooper? MUCH more memorable than Winnie Foster.

...........and maybe that's the point. Maybe the lack of flash and bang and whatnot forces the reader to get to the bare-bones questions and deeper issues. AND, despite being written in 1975, Tuck Everlasting is still a part of reading lists to this day among elementary and middle schools. So maybe there's something to be said for this book after all. Maybe it's worth the praise it's received through all these years.

Maybe, you should give it a read for yourself.