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.

Review: On The Fence

Kasie West has the gift of handling complex issues in beautifully simple prose. This book is very aptly titled: the life of Charlotte “Charlie” Reynolds, its heroine, is indeed a balancing act that requires all her strength and skill.

Charlie, as you can guess by her nickname, is a tomboy. Raised by a single father and three older brothers, with her male neighbor Braden for a best friend, she’s more comfortable on a soccer field than anywhere else. So when she is obliged to find a job to pay off a speeding ticket, and the only one available is at a clothing boutique, she feels very much out of her element. Learning about fashion and making friends with other women turns out to be good for her, but since she is afraid of being teased by her brothers and Braden, she keeps her new life separate from her old one. Talking to Braden at night over the fence between their houses is her only outlet for the stress of her double life; Braden, however, is part of the problem, since she’s falling for him.

This book is a strong example of the social pressures that teenage girls still face in developing their identity. Charlie is not a traditional girl to begin with. Still, she suppresses any so-called feminine traits she has – a newfound fashion sense; worries about body image; crying when upset; missing her mother – because she is afraid that being feminine will make her appear weak and/or promiscuous in the eyes of the men around her. “Are you wearing crap all over your face?” one of her brothers asks the first time he sees her wearing makeup. “I shouldn’t be worried that you work in the red-light district at night, right?” (p. 153). Charlie’s late mother, a clinically depressed woman who took her own life, adds an even deeper layer to Charlie’s troubles. She is afraid that taking on her mother’s gender role might make her vulnerable to her mother’s disease. Her brothers, who have been frightening away potential suitors behind her back, appear to feel the same way. “No wonder my dad and brothers thought I was so breakable (…) I’m sorry I wasn’t another boy,” Charlie thinks (p. 264).

On the other hand, she is equally afraid that being who she is - athletic, competitive, and outspoken – makes it impossible for any man to feel attracted to her. A stray comment of her brother’s about another girl who plays sports – “She’s probably a dog, some aggressive, burly thing” (p. 86) – sticks in Charlie’s mind for weeks. When a handsome boy sees her with her co-workers in “girl mode” and asks her out to a baseball game, she feels compelled to pretend total ignorance of the sport, even though she knows more about it than he does. Braden’s reaction is the reader’s first clue that he loves her: he is not only jealous of the other boy, but disappointed in Charlie for trying to hide what makes her unique.

By presenting Charlie as strong and beautiful at the same time, and having Braden love her because of her “masculine” qualities and not in spite of them, West plays with the idea of gender in interesting ways. The subplot involving Charlie’s mother and her mental illness is handled with equal compassion and finesse. West is never didactic; she never forgets that she is writing a YA romance, not a sociology text. But for anyone who likes their love stories to be fresh, healthy, modern, and unencumbered by stereotypes, this is the book for you.

Review: The Dean's Watch

When Dean Adam Ayscough, a high-ranking clergyman in an English cathedral town in the 1870’s, stays home from work because of a cold, the last thing he expects is to make a new friend. But when Isaac Peabody, the clockmaker who repairs the Dean’s pocket watch, stumbles into his employer’s office and speaks his mind – “It’s a beautiful watch, sir, and you overwind it. You should take better care of it, sir” (e-book, ch. 5, p. 38) – a friendship forms between the two lonely, eccentric men that is exactly what they need.

Adam’s fierce campaigns for social and ecclesiastical reforms have given him a terrifying reputation, but that same reputation, combined with his lifelong shyness, has made it difficult for him to actually talk to the people he is fighting for. Meeting Isaac becomes a catalyst for a series of encounters that shock Adam out of his comfort zone and teach him to translate his Christian beliefs into action, even as they teach Isaac that his own father’s abusive fanaticism is not the only way to practice religion.

Their kindness to each other spreads in circles until it includes the entire city. Adam’s search for an apprentice for the frail, overworked clockmaker leads to Job, who is secretly dating Polly, Isaac’s maid. Job, a talented and temperamental workhouse orphan, is under a contract to the bullying fishmonger Albert Lee. Adam determines to save them both, victim and abuser, from their unhealthy association. Meanwhile Emma, Isaac’s unmarried older sister, struggles with jealousy of Polly and Job’s romance, and with Isaac’s friendship with one of the most powerful men in the city. Adam has to battle his own dislike of the bitter, narrow-minded woman in order to bring some peace to his friend’s unhappy household. Even Elaine, Adam’s vain and superficial wife, slowly begins to learn the value of her husband, just as she is in danger of losing him for good.

This is one of the few novels I have ever read about, for lack of a better word, professional pride. Isaac’s clocks, Adam’s religious texts, Job’s woodcarvings, Polly’s cooking, the work of Adam’s lawyer, doctor and butler, the long-ago construction of the cathedral, and even Elaine’s fashion choices, are all labors of love. “Genius creates from the heart,” Adam observes. “And when men put love into their work there is power in it, there is a soul in the body” (ch. 7 p. 90). This novel highlights the joys of craftsmanship, but also its challenges, such as Adam’s writer’s block - “Who was he, that he should dare to take a pen in his hand? And how puerile was the result when he had done it” (ch. 14 p. 33) – or Isaac feeling overshadowed by Job’s talent – “He must increase, but I must decrease” (ch. 14, p. 10). This theme of creativity ties in to the story’s sense of faith; whether they acknowledge it or not, the characters’ gifts can all be traced back to the divine. During one of his debates with Isaac, Adam even compares God to a clockmaker:

  “I don’t believe in God,” said Isaac obstinately. 

“I wish I could believe you,” said the Dean. “I should be thankful to believe that you had parted company with the God of your boyhood. But I believe he is with you still in a darkness that shadows your mind at times. Disbelieve in him, Mr. Peabody. Believe instead in love. It is my faith that love shaped the universe as you shape your clocks, delighting in creation. I believe that just as you wish to give me your clock in love, refusing payment, so God loves me and gave Himself for me. That is my faith. I cannot force it upon you, I can only ask you in friendship to consider it.”

-       ch. 15 p. 41-42

 This is also a novel about power, its uses and abuses. Adam does his best to use his wealth, intelligence, and authority as Dean for good, but even he makes mistakes. As a former schoolteacher in an age when corporal punishment was the norm, he knows how difficult it is to draw the line. His attempt to bribe Albert Lee to cancel his contract with Job backfires badly; his classist assumption that money will fix everything collides against Albert’s pride. Albert, on the other hand, is a classic abuser; he gets drunk and beats Job regularly. Emma Peabody is a more subtle example: she resents her brother Isaac for lowering their status by going into trade. She takes it out on him with small things, such as making wool mats that make him slip on the floor, forbidding him to smoke or to chat with Polly, and passive-aggressively reading the Bible to make him feel guilty.

The author, however, instead of reducing these characters to simple villains, shows them to us fully rounded and real. We learn how their harsh actions are, in their own minds, simply defenses from an equally harsh world; it doesn’t excuse them, but it makes them easy to understand. For example, Albert beats his apprentice because he knows Job is smarter than he is, and it makes Albert feel powerless. As for Emma, when Adam reluctantly pays her a visit, a simple gesture – the way she brings out her best tea service for the rare occasion – unlocks a wealth of empathy inside her guest because it shows how lonely she is. Abuse is not a straight line; it is a cycle, and it takes a strong effort to break it. 

Most of all, however, this is a story about love. Sexual love is part of it – Polly and Job share a passionate romance in spite of Emma’s best efforts to stop them – but it is far from being the only part. There is love of place – the city and the cathedral are almost characters in their own right – and love of work – for example, the clocks. The most important love in this story, however, is between people: the friendship between Isaac and Adam, the mentor-student bond between Isaac and Job, Adam’s fatherly love for his lawyer’s granddaughter Bella, the strained sibling relationship of Isaac and Emma, and the complicated marriage of Adam and Elaine.

Of course, none of these relationships are perfect. They all include the potential for hurt and misunderstanding. As Miss Montague, a friend and advisor of almost everyone in the city, says to Adam: “If you turn for your joy to the intractable and explosive stuff of human nature, it’s in for a penny, in for a pound.” (ch. 13 p. 57). Besides, the author understands perfectly how challenging it can be for an introvert to talk to people at all. Then again, the reward is more than worth the effort, especially when shared interests form a bridge over the awkwardness: “Love of the work strengthened the love of each other. Love of each other enriched the work” (ch. 14 p. 12). 

Even Isaac, the atheist, feels that “the dark would not entirely get him” while his clocks keep time and his friends remember him (ch. 1 p. 33). Adam, the Christian, holds the same belief with even greater certainty: “Love. The only indestructible thing. The only wealth and the only reality. The only survival. At the end of it all there was nothing else” (ch. 94).

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.

Review: All The Feels

I was 15 when I read Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. The ending knocked me sideways. I couldn’t believe Professor Snape was evil, all evidence to the contrary. I re-read the books in a frantic search for clues that he had at least a tiny spark of good in him. Then, since I had just discovered fanfiction, I relieved my feelings with a novel-length self-insert fic to redeem him. It was juvenile – even my mother said so. But it made me feel much better.

That being said, even I find Liv Walden’s campaign to revive her favorite character a little excessive.

In an article titled “The Death of the Author”, French academic Roland Barthes wrote that in the twentieth century, the field of literature criticism went through a fundamental shift: instead of the author, we put the audience at the centre. In other words, when a story is written – or, in the case of Liv’s favorite Starveil franchise, filmed – it isn’t set in stone. It takes place inside viewers’ minds as much as on the screen. As a fanfiction reader and video maker, she should understand that. Her beloved Captain Spartan is alive as long as she believes he is. Why sacrifice immense amounts of time and effort, fail a  college exam, alienate her mother, and force a tired actor back into an unwanted role, just to make her own opinion “canon”?

I kept wondering when author Danika Stone was going to address the elephant in the room. In the very first chapter, she mentions that Starveil is something Liv shared with her father before he died. Spartan’s death itself is a heroic sacrifice on behalf of a little girl. Liv leaves the cinema in tears, her eating and sleeping habits are disrupted, her mother worries, and her friends have to physically pull off the blanket under which she’s buried. She clearly has unresolved issues about her father’s death, and her drive to bring back Spartan is understandable in that light, but surely directing her grief from a real death onto a fictional one isn’t healthy. It sounds harsh, but I was almost hoping for the “Spartan Survived” movement to fail, if only so Liv could finally face what she’s been repressing. As for Liv’s mother, who blames fandom for Liv’s poor grades and reclusive habits (and she has a point), her last appearance involves a shouting match through a locked door. Why, after such a scene, Mrs. Walden would allow her daughter to fly to a comic convention across state borders – alone with a boy, no less – we will never know.

From a certain point of view, though, one could argue that she does face some of her problems. The campaign has its good side: it pushes the shy young girl out of her comfort zone, allows her to make friends with like-minded people, and teaches her to defend herself and her work in a public space. It also brings her into closer contact with Xander Hall, her best friend, with whom she shares a romantic tension thick enough to cut.

Xander is my favorite part of this novel. An aspiring actor and the star of Liv’s campaign videos, he dresses, speaks and behaves like a nobleman of the British Regency period. Like his idol Lord Byron, he is also bisexual. He calls Liv “dearest”, coaxes her out of the house when she’s depressed, does his level best to build up her fragile confidence, and happily sits through midnight Starveil showings although he doesn’t even like science fiction. He has a weakness for French fries and texting that is endearingly at odds with his 19^th-century persona. He also has what many people wouldn’t expect from an actor: humility. “A movie serves its fans, not the actors. (…) Their opinion is the only one that matters,” he tells Liv (e-book, ch. 11, p. 41). He’s the most unique and lovable romantic hero I’ve come across since … well, since Cyrano de Bergerac a week ago, but I’m sure even Xander would agree that no one can compete with Cyrano. Still, I would have liked to see a bit more equality in their relationship. Surely someone who lives his life in cosplay would have some issues of his own, and receive emotional support as well as give it? There is a brief scene involving his girlfriend Arden, but he shrugs that off within days.

By the way, it’s a relief to find a YA author who doesn’t demonize her heroine’s romantic rival. This one is a cheerful, outgoing person who cares about Liv almost as much as Xander does. It’s not Arden’s fault that she cannot fully understand either of them. The minor characters in general were very entertaining to read about, from the string of unsuitable men Liv goes on blind dates with, to her eco-crusading classmate Hank aka Granola, to her fellow fans at DragonCon, including Brian, whose specialty is standing day-long lineups, and Sarah, who communicates exclusively via text message.

In short, while Liv as a heroine is sympathetic, the fandom world quirky and fun, and the romance satisfying, the psychological aspects of the story were not as well developed as they could have been. For a more in-depth and authentic exploration of a geek girl’s coming of age, I recommend Fangirl by Eleanor Rowell.