Harry Potter grew up over the course of Joanne Rowling's seven books.
At first it was addressed at ten-year-olds, but as it became a stellar publishing phenomenon, the Harry Potter world became more serious. That is, the writing focused more on plot and less on the twee hokum that was meant to draw in the ten-year-olds, and which strongly characterised the first book.
It wasn't as if Rowling did a complete volte face to address a different and larger - adult - audience. A little of the hokum remained. But by the end of the last book, it is obvious the whole series was mapped out in advance to a stunning level of detail. But Rowling's content changed to accentuate what was compelling in the books - the intricacy of the plotting, the fervid imagination, the consistency of detail, the complexity of characters, and above all, a nuanced but strong ethical framework. The level at which these are achieved are not the hallmark of a merely competent writer caught up in a maelstrom of unexpected success (such as Dan Brown).
Once the final book is read, pick up a book at random from the middle of the series. You will find many details that are offloaded in passing, which don't seem to have specific plot relevance. Those same details then come with a much more meaningful context. ('"No - [spying on the deatheaters is] your job, isn't it"..."Yes, Potter" [Snape] said, his eyes glinting"' ). Of course, there are a lot of red herrings, but in a different light it's plain to see how some ideas have deeper meaning, while others simply mirror the myriad other possibilities that don't bear out.
There was an article doing the international rounds, a column from a British journalist: "Why I hate Harry Potter". But the writer was simply reacting to the Phenomenon - obviously hadn't read enough of the books to realise what a treat she was in for, if she'd had more wit and patience. That journalist shall be nameless, not like Rowling.
These books will have lasting significance, long after the films are relegated to archival status.
Showing posts with label Harry Potter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Harry Potter. Show all posts
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Evolution: misconceiving change
Your average Harry Potter book is full of mystery, myriad unusual details, and engaging narrative. And it gets better with each book. There's the recent finale, then the series ends.
And while there's a steady flow of ideas, there are few strong insights – except towards the end, and even those are already out there, in the “published literature”, so to speak.
Stephen Jay Gould's volumes of essays are similarly laden with mystery, a welter of odd details, and reader-friendly narratives. But in contrast to Rowling, each essay yields new insights that can, sooner or later, be applied in a much wider context. And although death brought closure to Gould as to all, the extant series provides years of thought-provoking enjoyment, and doesn't close off the story of evolution, science and knowledge.
“Punctuated equilibrium writes nature's primary signature” - SJG
The following example is yet another illustration of a popular misconception of evolution.
I started his essay 'Cordelia's dilemma' in Dinosaur In A Haystack (1996, Jonathan Cape). It was a tale of nothing, as was Cordelia's response to Lear... but there are lessons in nothing.
Gould begins with the publication bias of scientific research: that journals tend to publish papers with positive results, i.e. those with a story to tell. Studies yielding negative results (eg “we've found no correlation between these factors”) far more often suffer from a) languishing unpublished; b) languishing unsubmitted for publication.
After a few illustrations, Could moves to the concept that originally made his name: Punctuated Equilibrium, that is, most species exhibit little change over the course of their existence, and actual change is relatively rapid in geological time scales.
Most of the time: no change. This narrative had been largely overlooked by paleontologists as either not carrying any narrrative, or not exactly fitting in with evolutionary thought. Gould's own thesis supervisor spent a good deal of effort on statistical analysis of brachiopod evolution to no apparent avail, before switching disciplines.
The wider misconception is, again, anthropocentric. On a human scale, we see constant change throughout history – change is the constant, the mantra runs. When it's not revolutionary, it's said to be “evolutionary” - that is, gradual. But that's the mistake: evolution is not, on the wider scale, gradual and steady. It's rather closer to our concept of “revolution”. That is not to say instantaneous and all-encompassing at all – at least in our measure. Thousands of generations is not instantaneous to us, and yet again it is, to Earth's time scale. Apart from those flashes, the narrative flatlines for much, much longer.
In capitalist economics, fluctuation is the norm, and equilbrium a mere blink. In evolutionary history, it's the other way around.
And while there's a steady flow of ideas, there are few strong insights – except towards the end, and even those are already out there, in the “published literature”, so to speak.
Stephen Jay Gould's volumes of essays are similarly laden with mystery, a welter of odd details, and reader-friendly narratives. But in contrast to Rowling, each essay yields new insights that can, sooner or later, be applied in a much wider context. And although death brought closure to Gould as to all, the extant series provides years of thought-provoking enjoyment, and doesn't close off the story of evolution, science and knowledge.
“Punctuated equilibrium writes nature's primary signature” - SJG
The following example is yet another illustration of a popular misconception of evolution.
I started his essay 'Cordelia's dilemma' in Dinosaur In A Haystack (1996, Jonathan Cape). It was a tale of nothing, as was Cordelia's response to Lear... but there are lessons in nothing.
Gould begins with the publication bias of scientific research: that journals tend to publish papers with positive results, i.e. those with a story to tell. Studies yielding negative results (eg “we've found no correlation between these factors”) far more often suffer from a) languishing unpublished; b) languishing unsubmitted for publication.
After a few illustrations, Could moves to the concept that originally made his name: Punctuated Equilibrium, that is, most species exhibit little change over the course of their existence, and actual change is relatively rapid in geological time scales.
Most of the time: no change. This narrative had been largely overlooked by paleontologists as either not carrying any narrrative, or not exactly fitting in with evolutionary thought. Gould's own thesis supervisor spent a good deal of effort on statistical analysis of brachiopod evolution to no apparent avail, before switching disciplines.
The wider misconception is, again, anthropocentric. On a human scale, we see constant change throughout history – change is the constant, the mantra runs. When it's not revolutionary, it's said to be “evolutionary” - that is, gradual. But that's the mistake: evolution is not, on the wider scale, gradual and steady. It's rather closer to our concept of “revolution”. That is not to say instantaneous and all-encompassing at all – at least in our measure. Thousands of generations is not instantaneous to us, and yet again it is, to Earth's time scale. Apart from those flashes, the narrative flatlines for much, much longer.
In capitalist economics, fluctuation is the norm, and equilbrium a mere blink. In evolutionary history, it's the other way around.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Ethical question in Harry Potter
An ethical dilemma in the latest Harry Potter book.
In the first instance, the question would be: do you save yourself first? Is your life more worth fighting for than others'? In fact, if you look at aircraft drills, they encourage you to tend to your own breathing apparatus, before attending to your child. If anyone, save yourself, because you certainly can't help anyone further if you don't.
Traditionally, there are concentric rings. In the centre is yourself. The next largest circle is your immediate loved ones. And so it goes on outwards, from the people who are closest to you all the way out to the people that you don't care whether they live or die. Or worse.
And that's the picture of your world. As you go outwards, the population within each circle gets larger, but your connection to them gets weaker.
At what point does it become meaningful to sacrifice some in an inner circle for a greater number in the outer circle? In some ethical frameworks (including some religions), the distinction may become meaningless, and those on the outer should be just as important [to save/help] than those in the inner circles.
But most people place high significance on the proximity of people to self. But where do you draw the line? At what point do you say that the number of people in an outer circle outweigh the much smaller numbers in an inner circle?
Harry's dilemma doesn't involve pitting self against others. It's more like the possibility of saving large numbers in an outer circle against much smaller numbers in the inner.
Most people would not find themselves in that grapple. Most people are human, after all, and will uniformly consider any smaller circle more important than any number of people in a circle further out.
It's hard to be evolved enough to sacrifice, especially to sacrifice others for a still greater good.
In the first instance, the question would be: do you save yourself first? Is your life more worth fighting for than others'? In fact, if you look at aircraft drills, they encourage you to tend to your own breathing apparatus, before attending to your child. If anyone, save yourself, because you certainly can't help anyone further if you don't.
Traditionally, there are concentric rings. In the centre is yourself. The next largest circle is your immediate loved ones. And so it goes on outwards, from the people who are closest to you all the way out to the people that you don't care whether they live or die. Or worse.
And that's the picture of your world. As you go outwards, the population within each circle gets larger, but your connection to them gets weaker.
At what point does it become meaningful to sacrifice some in an inner circle for a greater number in the outer circle? In some ethical frameworks (including some religions), the distinction may become meaningless, and those on the outer should be just as important [to save/help] than those in the inner circles.
But most people place high significance on the proximity of people to self. But where do you draw the line? At what point do you say that the number of people in an outer circle outweigh the much smaller numbers in an inner circle?
Harry's dilemma doesn't involve pitting self against others. It's more like the possibility of saving large numbers in an outer circle against much smaller numbers in the inner.
Most people would not find themselves in that grapple. Most people are human, after all, and will uniformly consider any smaller circle more important than any number of people in a circle further out.
It's hard to be evolved enough to sacrifice, especially to sacrifice others for a still greater good.
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