Review: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child

I don’t recommend this book – or script, to be exact – to anyone who hasn’t read the original series. But, since that’s a pretty small group by now, I think it’s safe to say that for anyone else, Platform Nine and Three Quarters can be relied upon to open once again. I warn you though, this is not going to be objective.

Speaking as a fangirl, this story was everything I hoped for and more. It tackled all the important questions we on the Internet have been asking for years: What was Dumbledore thinking, leaving the would-be savior of the world to be raised by the Dursleys? What is it like for Albus Severus Potter, growing up with a name like that – especially if he does end up in Slytherin? Will Draco Malfoy and the Golden Trio ever bury the hatchet? What was really going on between Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange? Did Cedric Diggory really have to die? And, last but not least – for me, anyway – can Ron and Hermione’s marriage really work?

Rowling and her co-playwrights, John Tiffany and Jack Thorne, serve up their answers with equal parts passion and precision. If you don’t believe it’s possible to return home to familiar ground and still be surprised, think again. The villain of this story is someone you’ll never see coming. Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione themselves have changed and matured. It’s ironic – and satisfying - to see Harry as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, calling someone out for reckless decision-making. Karma has come full circle there.

I don’t want to talk too much about the plot, for fear of spoilers. It does, however, involve Time-Turners. There must be thousands of Time-Turner fanfics already published, but Rowling, Tiffany and Thorne approach the subject with the intelligence and subtlety it deserves. Every person’s choice affects another; changing even one thing can lead to unpredictable – and in this case, terrifying – consequences. As Albus and his friends hop from one parallel future to the next, wreaking havoc on the timeline with the best intentions in the world, they run into old friends and enemies, see them through fresh eyes, and find answers to questions they never had the opportunity to ask.

Ironically for a story about time travel, however, this story is about making peace with the past. Harry may be forty, a family man and a national hero, but he still has demons left to fight. For someone who’s been fighting all his life, sometimes the hardest thing is knowing when to stop – and when to let the next generation take up the battle.

High Tea at the Fairmont Laurier

“What are those rocks?” said my nine-year-old cousin, poking the contents of a stainless steel bowl in the middle of the table.

“Sugar,” said my aunt. “It’s meant for putting in your tea.”

“Can I eat them?”

“No.”

Table manners aside, afternoon tea at the Fairmont Laurier Hotel was the perfect finale for our day trip to Ottawa. We sat by a window in Zoe's Lounge, beneath a sparkling chandelier, and had our hot water poured from a silver urn. I chose the Orange Spice tea, a zesty and powerful blend suitable for cheering up even the most exhausted of summer tourists. My father chose Lapsang Souchong. "Tastes like smoked salmon," he said. (Coming from him, a descendant of Baltic Sea fishermen, that's a compliment.) My aunt chose Earl Grey, with perfectly calibrated amounts of milk and sugar. My cousin ordered a pot of hot chocolate, which was served with whipped cream in place of a lid.

We ordered the full Chateau Laurier Tea Experience: scones with jam and clotted cream, finger sandwiches, macarons and cake. "Classic," was my father's verdict. "Not too adventurous." (That's also a compliment.)

My aunt, who had never heard of clotted cream, picked up a tiny portion with the tip of her knife. Her eyes lit up. 

For my part, two days later, I'm still daydreaming about the lemon poppyseed chiffon cake. If the name makes you think of smooth and delicate layers, you're absolutely right. The layers consist of cake, raspberry jam, and the finest possible sliver of vanilla pudding. 

"Pink cookies!" said my cousin, and proceeded to set up a brisk trade across the table: sandwiches, scones etc. in exchange for our macarons. The small sizes of the food made it ideal for trading. 

"Look at this," said my father. "We're wheeling and dealing here!"

"Salmon roll for a lemon cake?"

"Sure."

(Photo by Dirk Peters.)

If I had to rack my brain for something less than perfect, I'd say it was the waiting time. To be fair, though, we did arrive twenty minutes before our reservation. Also, my cousin objected to the frosting on his cupcake - he found it impossible to bite through - but that may have been fatigue.

The Fairmont Laurier has always had a reputation for being inclusive as well as beautiful, ever since its construction in 1912 (see this article in the Ottawa Citizen). When it first opened, rooms cost $2 a night, which amounts to $50 in modern currency. That may have been the reason they let us in, even though one of us (yours truly) was dressed in jeans and carried a clunky backpack. I haven't been this relaxed in such an elegant environment for a long time.
Then again ... I'm not the one who had to pay the bill.