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reenkaOkay, so... the major big-ass reason I still haven't found a new 'fandom' even though I have tons of other, non-HP interests (*hemhem*)-- aside from the fact that no one writes meta -or- fic for random yaoi pr0n-- is that I'm a rather picky genre (fantasy) reader, right. Yeah, thass righ', that's why I don't read shounen manga -or- watch 'guy' (sports, adventure, military, etc) shows-- not only is most of it not fantasy, what -is- fantasy isn't the sort I like (sword-n-sorcery/adventure = much better animated and uh, actually action-packed). Most of the stuff everyone luvs and keeps pimpin' on TV isn't 'real' fantasy either-- unless you count ghosts & demons and things, and just to make my life more difficult, I like most fantastic tropes besides demons, dragons, ghosts and monsters (or angels!! eurgh!) in general. And... there goes most stuff people write :/ But.
All of this is to say, I've been back to reading 'actual' fantasy lit lately (of the no-fanfic kind, omg!!), and even though I love Bujold and Flewelling-- and you know I think it's brilliant when I enjoy stuff with demons and ghosts-- it's just not the same. It's not... yeay like the HP books are yeay. And... this is something so outside quality, because by gods, but can Lois McMaster Bujold write, but... I was thinking about what the difference is, and I think it's that HP works for me by making me think 'omg, I love this world! this is so fun! I want to move!'
And on some level I'm like that about any world I really enjoy, Bujold's Chalion and Flewelling's Skala as much as wizarding Britain, but there's just something different about those others. I think a good example (the thing that actually inspired this post) is my experience with The Man Who Lived Beneath The Stairs. Yes.
When I was 9-10 or so, there was a little cubbyhole beneath the stairs in my grandma's apartment building where the superintendent lived.
When I was 10, I thought that was sooooo cool. He'd let me and my friend Misha in to chat, and I kept staring at the obviously uber-sloped ceiling with all sorts of magazine cut-outs (the only ones I'd seen by then! I was a very sheltered child!) and the huge-looking bed backed into the far corner which took up half the space and the single small lamp on the table to the side-- oh man. It was another world, for me, and how I adored it! It was such a liminal space-- an escape that was literally right beneath my feet. I felt so adult and naughty everytime me and Misha came over to visit the old man. And I keep thinking, now-- for an adult, such a 'pitiful' existence would seem awful and dangerous and unclean (maybe even unsafe! like people say the HP world is 'unsafe'!), but for a kid-- oh man, it was heaven.
I've always loved those hidden-but-not, out of the way spaces-- an abandoned attic where the pigeons roosted, a lost, overgrown patch of raspberry bushes in the woods, a tiny room that connected to an indoor garden in the campus library-- all those places that I knew, that had always seemed magical. And in HP, they are, just like I knew they were! The King's Cross station really does have a secret platform! And the dorky gawky boy in the tiny room under the stairs really does have secret powers! And... and... both everything you were afraid of(!) and everything you dreamed of(!) as a child-- all those terrors and yearnings you clung to equally as you hid under your blankets, trying to imagine another world, another life-- all those things are real.
And that-- aside from good writing, perhaps, and more than a unique or brilliant world-- it's that familiarity, that sense that I always knew this was how it worked! as a kid-- that's why I got stuck on the Potterverse.
I think that when fantasy becomes 'adult', it both gains and loses something; and I think in the other famous children's fantasy books (Alice, Narnia, maybe His Dark Materials) there's also this sense, but not as much with the doubling-up effect-- where the world is quite literally 'right here'-- the magical in the everyday that directly mirrors a (fanciful) child's own experience of life. We may imagine Narnia, but in a sense-- with a child's eyes, we could (almost-nearly) directly see the Secret Cupboard and the Hidden Street and the secret face of everyone and everything around us.
I don't think that JKR brought off this child-vision in the best possible way; it's not exquisitely well-wrought or conceived or even all that original-- but what it is is familiar the way a nursery-rhyme is immediately familiar. I think that's why my mind slipped so easily into writing fic for it in a way it hasn't with any other fandom. Even though I don't write gen all that much and I most definitely don't write or sound like JKR even when I do-- regardless, I can think in those terms. I know that language. I've seen those secrets. I dunno. Does that even make sense?
In a way, I think the HPverse gets at the very root of what fantasy is all about in a way Narnia and certainly LoTR doesn't; I think those two are about something else entirely, though they wear the dress and make the curtsey, so to speak. Narnia in particular approaches a child's fantasy ('the land beyond the wardrobe') from a totally different direction; I'd say it's more like Neverland in terms of being a 'holding pattern', a pure escape-- whereas HP isn't an escape, really-- it's a shift that reinforces what you (as a child) knew/feared. The big difference is that because of this, you don't have to leave it; it can change as you grow, shift as your perceptions shift. That's the reinforcement part, because as a child, I instinctively wanted this much more than I wanted a 'temporary escape' like Wonderland or Narnia, which is almost cruel.
Even if HP is 'about' things other than fantasy itself, and even if the accusations that it's not 'real' or normal fantasy (in whatever sense) could be justified-- that sense of recognition remains. That sense of 'yeah, I mean. this is how the world works'; not how magic works, because the magic itself isn't that exciting or even 'magical' a lot of times-- I think there's an odd sort of naturalism about HPverse magic. A child's vision of naturalism, somehow-- a magical naturalism (as quite separate from 'magic realism', I must say!).
Magic realism supposes there could be magic in the mundane, hidden away in pockets, so to speak; the magic flares up, dies down-- but the world itself is mostly 'as is'. With a child-type 'magical naturalism', the world is already magical & mysterious and just damn weird, and not just if you're secretly a vampire! It's just that-- it's just that adults are too bloody dumb to see it!
So really, magic is a question of perception rather than fact, both within the HP books and for your average daydream-believing little girl. In a way, that's why it's so popular, at least in part-- it's daydream more than 'fantasy'. It's like you nodded off in class one warm May afternoon and whoah! Suddenly you have 'Secret Goggles' on, and you can see the hidden faces of your scary science teacher (WHO IS ACTUALLY A WICKED SORCERER WHO BREWS POTIONS! HE REALLY IS!) and you find out your parents really are Heroes (see! you always knew!! didn't you!!) and you-- you yourself, of course-- well, you don't know who you are or -what- powers you've got, but all you know is that they're menacing! And scary! And awful! And above all, EXCITING!
Other people have noted this 'daydream' aspect of the HP books, sometimes using it to wonder if the whole series can't be construed as 'just a dream' or a delusion on Harry's part, but see, they're probably grown-ups, and they just don't get it at all. Daydreams only end when you grow up; you don't 'wake up' and realize 'the Truth' or how insane you were-- you grow up and realize something else (just like Wendy did in Peter Pan-- the only book I can think of that seems to share its 'spirit' with HP). You realize you have no choice; you have to go through with your life and marry some person (who's not Peter, drat him!) and have children and become a Muggle. See, the Peter Pan books have Muggles too, but really, that's not the point-- every fanciful child knows of Muggles. In a way, that's why I rolled my eyes and got really quite irritated the first time I tried to read the first chapter of Philosopher's Stone-- I mean, this was all too obvious. Please. I already knew; no need to rub it in like that.
The main difference between the Barrie books and JKR's is that in the HPverse, there -is- a choice. It's not some faraway Neverland-- the exit is right there. Just squint a little, and you see wizards! Wizards, wizards EVERYWHERE! Well... perhaps not -everywhere-. But quite easy to find for the discerning non-Muggle. And! The wizards want you! Aahhhh, it's hard to resist. And yeah, it's probably that quite plebian sense of self-gratification, if nothing else, that gets to me with HP, I admit. Heh.
All of this is to say, I've been back to reading 'actual' fantasy lit lately (of the no-fanfic kind, omg!!), and even though I love Bujold and Flewelling-- and you know I think it's brilliant when I enjoy stuff with demons and ghosts-- it's just not the same. It's not... yeay like the HP books are yeay. And... this is something so outside quality, because by gods, but can Lois McMaster Bujold write, but... I was thinking about what the difference is, and I think it's that HP works for me by making me think 'omg, I love this world! this is so fun! I want to move!'
And on some level I'm like that about any world I really enjoy, Bujold's Chalion and Flewelling's Skala as much as wizarding Britain, but there's just something different about those others. I think a good example (the thing that actually inspired this post) is my experience with The Man Who Lived Beneath The Stairs. Yes.
When I was 9-10 or so, there was a little cubbyhole beneath the stairs in my grandma's apartment building where the superintendent lived.
When I was 10, I thought that was sooooo cool. He'd let me and my friend Misha in to chat, and I kept staring at the obviously uber-sloped ceiling with all sorts of magazine cut-outs (the only ones I'd seen by then! I was a very sheltered child!) and the huge-looking bed backed into the far corner which took up half the space and the single small lamp on the table to the side-- oh man. It was another world, for me, and how I adored it! It was such a liminal space-- an escape that was literally right beneath my feet. I felt so adult and naughty everytime me and Misha came over to visit the old man. And I keep thinking, now-- for an adult, such a 'pitiful' existence would seem awful and dangerous and unclean (maybe even unsafe! like people say the HP world is 'unsafe'!), but for a kid-- oh man, it was heaven.
I've always loved those hidden-but-not, out of the way spaces-- an abandoned attic where the pigeons roosted, a lost, overgrown patch of raspberry bushes in the woods, a tiny room that connected to an indoor garden in the campus library-- all those places that I knew, that had always seemed magical. And in HP, they are, just like I knew they were! The King's Cross station really does have a secret platform! And the dorky gawky boy in the tiny room under the stairs really does have secret powers! And... and... both everything you were afraid of(!) and everything you dreamed of(!) as a child-- all those terrors and yearnings you clung to equally as you hid under your blankets, trying to imagine another world, another life-- all those things are real.
And that-- aside from good writing, perhaps, and more than a unique or brilliant world-- it's that familiarity, that sense that I always knew this was how it worked! as a kid-- that's why I got stuck on the Potterverse.
I think that when fantasy becomes 'adult', it both gains and loses something; and I think in the other famous children's fantasy books (Alice, Narnia, maybe His Dark Materials) there's also this sense, but not as much with the doubling-up effect-- where the world is quite literally 'right here'-- the magical in the everyday that directly mirrors a (fanciful) child's own experience of life. We may imagine Narnia, but in a sense-- with a child's eyes, we could (almost-nearly) directly see the Secret Cupboard and the Hidden Street and the secret face of everyone and everything around us.
I don't think that JKR brought off this child-vision in the best possible way; it's not exquisitely well-wrought or conceived or even all that original-- but what it is is familiar the way a nursery-rhyme is immediately familiar. I think that's why my mind slipped so easily into writing fic for it in a way it hasn't with any other fandom. Even though I don't write gen all that much and I most definitely don't write or sound like JKR even when I do-- regardless, I can think in those terms. I know that language. I've seen those secrets. I dunno. Does that even make sense?
In a way, I think the HPverse gets at the very root of what fantasy is all about in a way Narnia and certainly LoTR doesn't; I think those two are about something else entirely, though they wear the dress and make the curtsey, so to speak. Narnia in particular approaches a child's fantasy ('the land beyond the wardrobe') from a totally different direction; I'd say it's more like Neverland in terms of being a 'holding pattern', a pure escape-- whereas HP isn't an escape, really-- it's a shift that reinforces what you (as a child) knew/feared. The big difference is that because of this, you don't have to leave it; it can change as you grow, shift as your perceptions shift. That's the reinforcement part, because as a child, I instinctively wanted this much more than I wanted a 'temporary escape' like Wonderland or Narnia, which is almost cruel.
Even if HP is 'about' things other than fantasy itself, and even if the accusations that it's not 'real' or normal fantasy (in whatever sense) could be justified-- that sense of recognition remains. That sense of 'yeah, I mean. this is how the world works'; not how magic works, because the magic itself isn't that exciting or even 'magical' a lot of times-- I think there's an odd sort of naturalism about HPverse magic. A child's vision of naturalism, somehow-- a magical naturalism (as quite separate from 'magic realism', I must say!).
Magic realism supposes there could be magic in the mundane, hidden away in pockets, so to speak; the magic flares up, dies down-- but the world itself is mostly 'as is'. With a child-type 'magical naturalism', the world is already magical & mysterious and just damn weird, and not just if you're secretly a vampire! It's just that-- it's just that adults are too bloody dumb to see it!
So really, magic is a question of perception rather than fact, both within the HP books and for your average daydream-believing little girl. In a way, that's why it's so popular, at least in part-- it's daydream more than 'fantasy'. It's like you nodded off in class one warm May afternoon and whoah! Suddenly you have 'Secret Goggles' on, and you can see the hidden faces of your scary science teacher (WHO IS ACTUALLY A WICKED SORCERER WHO BREWS POTIONS! HE REALLY IS!) and you find out your parents really are Heroes (see! you always knew!! didn't you!!) and you-- you yourself, of course-- well, you don't know who you are or -what- powers you've got, but all you know is that they're menacing! And scary! And awful! And above all, EXCITING!
Other people have noted this 'daydream' aspect of the HP books, sometimes using it to wonder if the whole series can't be construed as 'just a dream' or a delusion on Harry's part, but see, they're probably grown-ups, and they just don't get it at all. Daydreams only end when you grow up; you don't 'wake up' and realize 'the Truth' or how insane you were-- you grow up and realize something else (just like Wendy did in Peter Pan-- the only book I can think of that seems to share its 'spirit' with HP). You realize you have no choice; you have to go through with your life and marry some person (who's not Peter, drat him!) and have children and become a Muggle. See, the Peter Pan books have Muggles too, but really, that's not the point-- every fanciful child knows of Muggles. In a way, that's why I rolled my eyes and got really quite irritated the first time I tried to read the first chapter of Philosopher's Stone-- I mean, this was all too obvious. Please. I already knew; no need to rub it in like that.
The main difference between the Barrie books and JKR's is that in the HPverse, there -is- a choice. It's not some faraway Neverland-- the exit is right there. Just squint a little, and you see wizards! Wizards, wizards EVERYWHERE! Well... perhaps not -everywhere-. But quite easy to find for the discerning non-Muggle. And! The wizards want you! Aahhhh, it's hard to resist. And yeah, it's probably that quite plebian sense of self-gratification, if nothing else, that gets to me with HP, I admit. Heh.
