Finished with the Phoenix

I'm pretty sure that this memory was from right before Phoenix was released. We were in the car, me and mom and dad, going to eat somewhere, and dad saw that I had Watership Down with me, and so he asked me why I was reading it, and I said something along the lines of, "Well, it's the only book better than Harry Potter." It still is, I think. More about Watership Down later, though. I just finished Order of the Phoenix for probably the hundredth time. That book has a lot of detractors, you know—complaints that Harry is emo, etc. But come on. It's... it's Order of the Phoenix. It's nearly holy. At least to me.

I am fiercely protective of these books. It makes complete sense that they were gigantic hits. They're about as perfect as a series of books can be. They're about everything. Time and age. Friendship. Evil. Grief. Hatred and grudges. Dedication and loyalty. Rights. Prejudice. Love. They are archetypal in this way, all-encompassing, solid and filled with communicable life. I read them and see everything through their pages. They are works of art. Their design is beautiful, intricate, tragic, lifelike. She weaves a tapestry of a world that is our own, but slightly higher, or maybe just a little off to the side. The corruption in the Ministry is brilliant. The prejudice against half-breeds and half-bloods, too. And the pillar of the books, the strongest thread: emotion, or the ability to feel, to breathe with meaning rather than mechanism.

I could speak on the characters for the rest of my life, but as I am quite sleepy, I would like to talk about just one: Dumbledore. He is at first glance the wise old man. To be honest, he is this same archetype (excellent word; one of my favorites) throughout the books. Yet the seventh book, along with the famous revelation made by the author after the release of Deathly Hallows, does quite a lot to undermine this ideal. There is suspicion that she was all too aware of the wise old man she had created and wished to simply circumvent the stereotype. But dimensions are not applied lightly by authors of her quality, and any argument to the contrary is based in ignorance and narrow-minded bias. Dumbledore is a man of profound depth. This is the first time that I have read the series since last summer; that is to say, I have not gone back to them with the events of Deathly Hallows in mind. This part stuck out.

"You do care," said Dumbledore. "You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it."

That line actually hurts. We know, now, what Dumbledore has been through, how responsible he feels for everything that he has ever done wrong. He knows exactly how Harry feels about the loss of Sirius. He could tell precisely the feeling, because he still has it, so long after the event.

She can write. I feel as if there is no need for anyone to ever write anything else. There, the series is over, and so is literature. We're done. She's said it all.



I know, I know, I'm obsessing over these books a year after they've finished. They're children's fantasy, and worse, they're a phenomenon. So they must have little merit, right? Everyone agrees that they're decent, but they have a hard time admitting anything more.

I hold that they are a brilliant series, the best ever written. I cannot find the words to say what it means to me, to see them all ranged up there, above my head.

Currently Reading:
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince