Harry Potter Readalong: Deathly Hallows, Part Two

This week we read chapters 11 through 19 in Deathly Hallows.  Read everyone else's posts at Reading Rambo.  As always, there will be spoilers for the Harry Potter series in this post.  

Let's start with Lupin.  He shows up at Grimmauld Place and has a story for the trio — a tale of horrible decisions and poor choices, in which he was persuaded into marrying and impregnating a young, attractive witch who has now trapped him in a fiery, domestic hell.  As a complete victim of circumstance, it's understandable that he needs a break.. (Perhaps an extended camping trip with teenagers!) 

Oh, but wait!  Even if he feels that her life would be better off with him gone, it might be a good idea to ask for her opinion on the matter.  After all, she is an adult and might — I'm just guessing here — like to be involved in the decision of whether her husband goes gallivanting off into the wild moors of Britain and leaves her to deal with morning sickness and the tiny problem of the Ministry hunting down her family. 

Luckily, Harry calls Lupin out on his asshattery, but the truth is too much for poor Remus's ego and he slams Harry in to the wall and flees.  That's not quite the best way to prove you're in the right, dude.

Next up, Harry, Hermione, and Ron travel to the Ministry, where their brilliant plan turns out to be not-so-brilliant, but they do manage to get the horcrux and free some muggle-borns in the process.  Good job, guys.

Rowling does a great job in this chapter of showing the oppression and fear in the wizarding world:  people are terrified of confiding in anyone or stepping out of line in case their families are threatened, the Ministry is producing propaganda against muggle-borns, and Dolores Umbridge is just tickled pink with the power and cruelty she is allowed to wield.

Just checking, but is Umbridge a Death Eater?  I didn't think so, but I never thought too much about how Moody's eye ended up in her door before this reread.  If the Order couldn't find Moody's body after the battle, it seems likely that it was taken by the same Death Eaters they fought that night.  And why would the Death Eaters give Umbridge Moody's eye?  Could she have been in the battle and taken it on her own?  Or did she perhaps buy it somehow, like she did the locket?  I can't imagine a street vendor peddling dead people's eyes, but I've been wrong before.

Regardless, Umbridge is a monster and I'm glad Harry stunned her for lying about being a descendent of Slytherin. 

This post is already getting long, so I'm going to head to the bullet points:

• Harry says they can't summon Kreacher in case he brings a Death Eater, but that seems like a pretty lame excuse.  If they were actually worried about Kreacher being tortured for information, I think they'd risk it.  I just feel really bad for Kreacher.
• Ron's big departure.  I usually don't miss an opportunity to criticize Ron, BUT I think in this instance it's a great character development moment, and it really shows the differences between the three of them.  Though if Ron didn't come back just a few days later and save Harry's life, I'd be less generous.
• If Harry and Hermione went through so much trouble to disguise themselves before venturing off to Godric's Hollow, don't you think they would also adopt fake names for the outing?  In the graveyard, they call out to each other using their first names pretty much every other sentence.  Come on, now.

We're taking next week off because of BEA, so Part Three will be up in two weeks.  I'm not attending the actual conference, but I'll be going down for a day to meet up with some lovely book blogging ladies.  Raise your hand if you're excited!

Wench by Dolen Perkins-Valdez

Wench is the story of four women: Lizzie, Mawu, Sweet, and Reenie.  Though they come from different places, every summer they find themselves together at Tawawa House, a resort that caters to rich white men and, often, their female slaves.  The women alternately endure and enjoy these summers; though they are allowed more liberties while away from their plantations, they are never free.

Set in the early 1850s, Wench tells a story not usually seen on bookshelves.  Not only is the novel set well before the Civil War, but it focuses exclusively on the lives of the women who are brutalized and manipulated by the white men who own them.  Though their stories are often sad or terrible to read, they feel all the more real for not glossing over the harshest scenes.*

The novel is narrated by Lizzie, who does care for her owner, Drayle, but longs for the one thing he consistently denies her — freedom for their two small children.  Instead, she watches as her son and daughter grow up in limbo, not understanding why they are treated differently than both the other slave children and the children of white relatives. 

Perkins-Valdez's writing is strong throughout, though the novel's main strength is in its portrayal of four very different women as fully-developed, intriguing characters.  Though the reader knows every detail of Lizzie's life from her narration, Mawu, Reenie and Sweet are almost equally fleshed-out, and the ups and downs of their friendships are as real as any I've ever read about. 

Lizzie waved at Reenie.  The woman closed her eyes and turned up to the sun.  Lizzie caught a glimpse of Reenie's younger self [...] Right then, Lizzie thought she knew what Reenie was feeling.  The water felt like relief.  Being in it made it easy to forget the words, licks, disappointments that had sliced at every little part of them over the years.  [168]

The largest turmoil their relationship faces is Mawu's urging that they escape while at Tawawa House, which is located in a free state.  As each woman weighs the risks of running to freedom and what she would be leaving behind, their lives become changed forever.

Wench is a novel that grows on the reader even after she has read the final pages.  I finished reading it almost two weeks ago, but its characters and words are still fresh in my mind.  The complex psychology of Lizzie and the other women has stayed with me as well, especially their many — and often conflicting — loyalties: to the friends they see every summer, to their children back at the plantation, to the fathers of these children, and to their own dreams and futures. 

I highly recommend Wench, and would gladly read Dolen Perkins-Valdez's next novel.  If you're intrigued but not convinced, listen to this interview with Perkins-Valdez on NPR.  Five out of five stars.

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Dolen Perkins-Valdez was born and raised in Memphis, Tennessee.  Her fiction and essays have been published in The Kenyon Review, African American Review, North Carolina Literary Review, and the Richard Wright Newsletter.  She currently teaches creative writing at the University of Puget Sound.


Wench © Dolen Perkins-Valdez and Amistad, 2010.  Hardcover, 282 pages.

*Trigger warning: multiple scenes in this book depict rape and violence toward women.  

Harry Potter Readalong: Deathly Hallows, Part One

I can't believe we're on Deathly Hallows now.  This half-a-year smorgasbord of GIFs and nerdy exclamations is almost over.

This week we read the first ten chapters in Deathly Hallows — check out the rest of the posts by heading over to Reading Rambo.  I'm a little late in getting this written, so I'm going to give up on any semblance of developed ideas and skip straight to the bullet points:

• In the first chapter, Rowling gives us a glimpse at how the other wizarding half lives, vis-à-vis the Malfoy estate.  Basically, rich wizards live in the same digs as rich muggles, except that their gates open magically and they have fancier peacocks. 
• Who knew Dudley was capable of character development?  His good-bye to Harry makes me inordinately happy, though I would still like to kick Petunia in the shins for leaving without a word.  

that works too.

• Hedwig's death really gets me, no matter if I know it's coming or not.  It seems very odd that she dies.  Wasn't she in her cage, tucked between Harry's knees?  So how exactly does a curse hit her but miss Harry?  Also, I may be wrong, but I recall reading that Rowling said she felt she had to kill off Hedwig because Harry couldn't take her with him as he looked for horcruxes.  Which totally makes sense, since there's no way Hedwig could simply stay at the Burrow (presumably, with Crookshanks and Pigwidgeon).
• Has Fleur's accent always been so bad?  After they arrive at the Burrow, she says, "Yes, and zat eez all very good, but still eet does not explain 'ow zey knew we were moving 'Arry tonight, does eet?  Somebody must 'ave been careless. Somebody let slip ze date to an outsider.  It is ze only explanation for zem knowing ze date but not ze 'ole plan."  [80]  First of all, Rowling's editor missed changing an "it" to an "eet" there, and, second of all, I don't think there's been a French accent so atrocious since this chick:

•  Wasn't it established at the end of Half-Blood Prince that spells break when their caster dies?  Up on the tower, Dumbledore's spell on Harry lifts as soon as Snape kills him.  But in Deathly Hallows, Moody's spells set to foil Snape are still in place after his death.  Maybe there are certain kinds of curses that can survive a person's death?  Hm.
• After the attack in the cafe on Tottenham Court Road, Hermione says she has never obliviated someone before.  In that case, what did she do to erase herself from her parents' memories?  I am confused.  (Also, I was going to talk about how terrible that must have been for her, but I decided talking about Hedwig reached the Sad Quota for this post.  Carry on.)

See you all next week for Part Two!

Wake Up, Sir! by Jonathan Ames

Wake Up, Sir! was the most recent book chosen by my book club, and I admit that it isn't one I would have picked up on my own.  That isn't to say that I didn't enjoy it, but the inside-cover summary on my hardcover copy was nothing if not discouraging.  Whoever wrote that trying-too-hard-to-be-quirky blurb did the book no favors — and, without the looming date of my book club, I would have placed it back on the shelf.

But I'm glad I did have that extra push to give this book a chance.  The story begins in New Jersey, where the narrator, Alan Blair, is contemplating a trip north.  Alan is a semi-failed, alcoholic writer whose life is made interesting only by the addition of his constant, self-effacing monologues and his ever-obliging valet, Jeeves. 

After a detour involving a bender, an inappropriate phone call, and a broken nose,  Alan and Jeeves end up at an artists' colony in upstate New York.  Here, Alan sets about working on his novel, a collection of dialogue and details he has stolen from the life of his former roommate.  Before he's barely written a page, however, he becomes smitten with Ava, a sculptor with the most magnificent nose Alan has ever seen.  Hijinks ensue.

Unfortunately, the novel doesn't start out strong; the first twenty or so pages don't make an overly impressive beginning, but Wake Up, Sir! is the kind of book that grows on you.  It then culminates in a climax so absurd and so enjoyable that it completely cancels out the odd start.

The character of Alan is, at first, slightly annoying, but soon segues into being equal parts affable and pitiable.  The inside of his head is so wonderfully ludicrous that the reader can't help but get carried along:

I girded myself so as not to be weepy.  It's always unnerving when people are loving.  The slightest act of kindness — taking the time to put a lunch together, write a note! — directed at my person and I fall apart.  Goes against one's core beliefs about one's self.  Sets off a skirmish on the inside.  I'll be the first to admit it: my whole unconscious — well, I'm somewhat conscious of it — outlook on life is built on the premise that I can't stand myself and should be shot.  So if people love you, it makes it difficult to go about your business of being blissfully self-destructive and impulsive. [38]

Before wrapping up this review, I should also note that, in Wake Up, Sir!, Jonathan Ames has achieved the near-impossible: a book that contains both a simultaneously ridiculous and horrifying fight scene and possibly the most entertaining sex scene I have ever read.  And if that doesn't make you want to read this book, I'm afraid it's a lost cause.  Four out of five stars.

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Jonathan Ames is an essayist and the author of three novels:  I Pass Like Night, The Extra Man, and Wake Up Sir!   He also created, wrote, and produced the HBO comedy series Bored to Death.  

Wake Up, Sir! © Jonathan Ames and Scribner, 2004.  Hardcover, 308 pages.

Harry Potter Readalong: The Tales of Beedle the Bard

After last week's readalong post about the end of Half-Blood Prince, I think the decision to read Tales of Beedle the Bard was a good one.  Everyone could use some levity when a beloved character has just been blasted off a tower. 
 

Okay, moving on.  

The Tales of Beedle the Bard is excellent in many ways:  J.K. Rowling's original illustrations and introduction, Hermione named as the translator, and, of course, Dumbledore's lengthy commentary. 

The introduction is fantastic for several reasons, but it did leave me wishing that Rowling had written an introduction to each of her books.  There are wonderful tidbits like this:

Another notable difference between these fables and their Muggle counterparts is that Beedle's witches are much more active in seeking their fotunes than our fairy-tale heroines.  Asha, Altheda, Amata, and Babbitty Rabbitty are all witches who take their fates into their own hands, rather than taking a prolonged nap or waiting for someone to return a lost shoe.  [viii-ix]

Spot-on, J.K.  However, the best part in the introduction is clearly this sentence about Beedle: "We know that he was born in Yorkshire, and the only surviving woodcut shows that he had an exceptionally luxuriant beard." [ix]   This, of course, leads me to believe that Beedle looked something like this:

His genius knows no century.

In "The Wizard and the Hopping Pot", Rowling quite obviously takes on the topic of those who burn or censor books — which, of course, some were doing to her own books.  Rowling, through Dumbledore's commentary, makes these crazies look, well, crazy.

After reading the tales in the book, I have to say that "The Tale of the Three Brothers" is undoubtedly the most well-crafted.  This makes sense, as it was the story originally written for a purpose greater than this fairy-tale collection and is based on The Pardoners Tale. 

"The Fountain of Fair Fortune" is comes in as a close second, and "Babbitty Rabbitty and Her Cackling Stump" wins the award for the best title of anything, ever.  "The Warlock's Hairy Heart" wins runner-up for creepiest fairy-tale, after Hansel and Gretel. 

See you next week for Deathly Hallows!  Read the rest of this week's posts over at Reading Rambo.