On the BBC they’ve just finished listing Britain’s hundred “best loved” novels, as voted for by viewers. Harry Potter figures prominently, all of them so far being in the hundred, and I’m now watching some rather disdainful literary experts mulling it over. (Germaine Greer has just described the works of Tolkein as “nazi tosh”.)
Last time I was listening out for such things, I picked up a lot of official literary disapproval for the Harry Potter phenomenon. That at any rate is what I said on my education blog, while describing my god-daughter’s extraordinary powers of concentration when confronted by HP number 4. Somebody called Cameron agreed, and I think his comment deserves a wider readership than it will ever get at its original destination.
What had the most influence on my decision to finally cave in and read the series was the fact that literary critics and others who see no shame in the “intellectual” label were so nastily (sometimes politely) negative in their reviews.
Reading the reviews of the first book carefully, I noticed that the criticisms were both uniform and vague. The writing style was sniffed at, the characters lacked nuance and subtlety, as did the overall plot, which had the temerity to be about something as crass and silly as a “good” boy fighting an “evil” villain. In other words, it was a children’s book, which fact really, really seems to confuse Smart People.
Of course, I was delighted to read it. It smacked of the same kind of kid-growing-up flavor as Lloyd Alexander’s Prydain series.
My own enjoyment of the books aside, what I see in the whole Harry Potter argument is simply more proof of an argument made recently by best-selling author Orson Scott Card about Tolkien’s books; to wit: Serious “LitCrits” hate the Lord of the Rings because the public loves LoR. This is because the public is still quite unashamed to enjoy stories while the LitCrits had that trait wrenched, I mean, trained out of them in the universities. For the serious student of Great Literature, stories are for the uneducated; real intellectuals deal with what stories mean.
Except that the literature that is most loved by the greatest percentage of, well, people who like reading is the kind of literature that defies the very methods of interpretation and intellectual gymnastics that Intellectuals enjoy so much. [how’s THAT for a sentence?]
It is a control issue. Speaking as a current English Literature major (hey – I won my college’s “Best Writing About Literature” award last year – I’m a bona-fide Smart Guy), what I’ve come to see is that the people who really hate the “Potter” books (and I know you are not one of them, so this does not apply to you) hate them because they can’t control how people read them – the unwashed have embraced scripture that the priests didn’t write, and, OH, how this bugs your average professor(!).
Think about it: Every last “ism” an Eng Lit major has to study is the product of some wind bag who couldn’t stand that people weren’t seeing the same things in literature that he or she was seeing.
And, furthermore . . .
Good heavens! I apologize for going on a rant.
Apology accepted. That was obviously a first draft as well as a final version, and as such pretty good stuff, I say.
2 comments:
1. Oh, memories! The Prydain series was the first Grand Fantasy I ever read – I was in fifth grade and I can remember, with surprising detail, the elementary school library where I first happened upon the book. I was enthralled. I re-read the series as an adult and while, of course, the thrill was not the same – I was pleased to see that I could still see why I loved the series the first time. Those books are wonderful.
2. The bit about the public reading books not approved by the priests – that’s a marvelous observation – I think that’s a dead-on analogy. The Church was fiercely opposed to people reading the Bible themselves (in the vernacular, no less) because it meant that they – the priests – could no longer control how the people thought about their faith or, just as importantly, what they thought about the priests. The LitCrits want nothing more than to be the sole source of authority regarding what’s “good” literature and what isn’t, as well as exactly how we’re supposed to read books and what we are supposed to get out of them; I too am an English major, hence my contempt for (most) LitCrits.
The literati are obsessed with the need to maintain a distance from us of the Great Unwashed. This manifests itself most vividly in their denigration of books that:
— have actual, comprehensible plots;
— are written in clear English;
— don’t lionize some form of squalor or perversion.
It is quite literally impossible for anyone with a fondness for a good, clearly told story to read all the way through some of the literati’s most celebrated emissions. After I read B. R. Myers’s now-famous essay “A Reader’s Manifesto,” I tried to read some of the books he capably dissected. I couldn’t do it, more from revulsion than obscurity, though both were factors.
Why should this be?
It’s dangerous to generalize, but my sense of it is that these are people of the sort described by Ludwig von Mises in his The Anti-Capitalistic Mentality. They feel slighted by the larger society, on whose back they ride. They know their place in it to be less valued than the captains of industry who built, and continue to build, Anglo-American civilization. So they take refuge in an assumed superiority, reinforced by deliberate rejection of the virtues that have always characterized a good story: clear, sound writing, a compelling plot, and a clear, wholesome theme that has wide applicability.
Think about it: Every last “ism” a(n) … major has to study is the product of some wind bag who couldn’t stand that people weren’t seeing the same things in … that he or she was seeing.
How in the hell can the work of Tolkien be described as nazi tosh?!
As for Harry Potter books – I’ve got #5 on order for my son.
The Nazi government, which was obsessed with Nordic folklore, once considered giving Tolkein an award, and wrote to him to verify that he did not have any Jewish ancestry. Tolkein replied that he had checked in considerable depth and that *unfortunately* he had been unable to find any ancestors among “this gifted people.” No more was heard of the award.
This makes it pretty obvious that Tolkein had no Nazi sympathies. It could have been easily determined by Greer if she had looked.
David Foster writes:
“It could have been easily determined by Greer if she had looked.”
Which is precisely what she wouldn’t have done.
Sadly, Prof. Greer writes like an angel. Even more sadly, she is so hungry for attention that she is incapable of restraining herself from striking a contrary pose at the drop of a hat.
The kindest thing is simply to ignore the increasingly dotty old bat.
David: what on earth were they going to give Tolkien an award for? He didn’t write LoTR until the fifties. I think the Hobbit might originally been published in the late thirties, but anything else he’d written by that time would’ve been scholarly essays by a fairly obscure academic in the field of linguistics.
Seems the sneering the literatis is quite familiar…and age old…I remember the same sniveling remarks made about Charles Dickens “A Tale of Two Cities,” which after “A Christmas Carol” is almost as popular. Sure David Copperfield and Oliver Twist have made their marks on literature-minded folk, but the fact that TOTC’s popularity and familiarity by the public has meant scorn from the elitists. “Oh well THAT’s okay for Dickens, but you REALLY SHOULD read “Dombey and Sons.” I tried that book. BORING. And typical. And didnt David Copperfield start out the same way????? Not to mention Dicken’s use of first person, which always struck me as severely limiting the man’s talent and humor. A story is so much more interesting if told from the perspective of several!
But one thing I have noticed about the elitists in literature is they love to wallow in self-absorbed misery…and that seems to be the kind of novels they seek.
I remember the Prydain series too! But I also remember other more obscure sci-fi/fantasy novels that have long gone the way of dragons. Were they less literary? I dont think so. I remember them far better than a good deal of the post-modernist crap that got shoved down my throat in my later years.
I tend to agree, however, that the Potter books totter on the edge of literary criticism because of Rowling’s writing style. I am not sure of how much they changed for American audiences (the fact that they even changed ANYTHING is insulting), but Rowlings has a rather loosey-goosey way with adverbs, sprinkling them throughout each page with a liberality that would shock all the authors who advised writers to avoid adverbs like the plague. How come Rowlings gets away with it? I know of several dozen “children’s” books that have a tightly written style and they are classics. “A Wind in the Door” and “Swiftly Tilting Planet” come to mind, the former of which I am currently reading to my daughter. C.S. Lewis avoided things like that. Why can’t Rowlings? As much as I love and enjoy the Potter story, I cant help thinking after each reading that if she just “tightened” up her writing a bit, she’d have a pretty potent story.
As for shallow characters, I BEG TO DIFFER. She involves clues that most people do not even pick up on…and I have a theory about Draco that I feel a lot of people are not taking into account. The only way I will conclude that she is all that careless in that regard is if she finishes the next three without ever fleshing out what happens to Draco, or the other characters. MY thoughts are accusations like this pop up when the story is only told from one point of view. However, Harry is as real and as sympathetic a character as I could ever hope for in a story. When reading Goblet of Fire for the first time, I put down the book craving more like I havent done since I read Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. And the last time I was truely frightened for the main character was when I read LOTR. Frodo and Harry have definite soft spots in my heart now.
Cameron is VERY correct : it is a control issue, the same type of control that is exerted by the snobbery of the political elites. To be middle class is to be so bougoiesie, and thus cheap, crass, common, and unremarkable…but even among the elities, the middle class must be pitied for their hopeless ambition to rise to their station, and so must be ‘taken care of’ without forgetting those who are not even middle class. Literary elites will sneer at the common praises of a universal work, but they dont wish to be percieved as completely cold hearted, so they must ‘help you’ understand the ‘true works of art.’
Weasel…I’ll try and locate the reference…I think it was in something by C S Lewis, but not sure…
On the subject of adverbs: It’s always been more tempting to the pedantic mind to make a rule ironclad and above question than to explain the reasons for it, which always invites inquiries into when the rule might not apply. The “kill all adverbs” rule is a case in point.
One knock against adverbs is that they’re frequently used to prop up bad dialogue. “What a nasty thing to say,” she said angrily. Good dialogue carries its emotional impact in its phrasing to the greatest possible extent. Another is the Tom Swifty: the unintentional creation of a double entendre through the adverb. “What our team needs is a man who can hit sixty homers a season,” Tom said ruthlessly. Unless you’re writing comedy, this is generally not a good idea. Maybe not even then.
Though both of these are to be avoided, that leaves plenty of room for legitimate uses of adverbs. However, the ironclad, do-not-question-on-pain-of-scornful-sneer rule against adverbs leaves the “creative writing” instructor with a lot less explaining to do… and leaves the student with a narrow, crabbed understanding of the proper uses of an important part of speech.
Fiction written for the young is less strictly governed than “literary” fiction, thank God. Rowling has nothing to worry about. The Adverb Squad won’t be after her any time soon.
Francis W. Porretto writes:
“..creative writing” instructor…”
A trade which, in a sensible world, would be about as respectable as kitten-strangler-by-appointment-to-the-pope.
The very concept is (or at least should be) anathema.
Point taken, Francis, but I have learned that avoiding adverbs as much as possible makes for more EFFECTIVE writing. I do not say there should NEVER be adverbs…nor have I ever heard an author recommend total elimination. The emphasis has always been, however, to rethink and determine if there is a way of stating things WITHOUT an adverb. Adverbs have their purpose, and in effective writing, give the punch that a story would need. What I am criticising is the OVER-use to be found in Rowlings stories. As I said, I can pick up a number of childrens/young adult books that do not have a count of 5+ adverbs to a page.
I mean, come on…do you really think the word “sinisterly” is effective for describing a menacing creature/person/situation???? Rowlings thought it did. I found myself laughing instead of sympathising with the character, just simply because it was awkward.
But my admiration for her still holds. Like I said, Harry was the only other character, besides Frodo Baggins, that I was genuinely frightened for. Anyone who can write a story and character like that is very high up on my list, despite all the fun she was having with adverbs.
Sharon -do you mean “sinisterly” should be LEFT out? 😉
The use of adverbs is purely a matter of style… and so should surely then depend on nothing more than how, seriously, wittily, sarcastically, or depressingly etc .., you want to adverbialy twiddle with the story you tell?
So arguably the test is:
Read it boldly
and if it reads badly – its surely
poorly writ grammatically, so
therefore it should rewritten be-
entirely more enterprisingly. 😉
( Is adverbialy a word or did I just make that up?)
I know that some of the things that they changed for the American versions of HP were Britishisms that could be misunderstood by American audiences. For an example, “jumper” was changed to “sweater” because an American jumper is a one-piece garment, sometimes with a skirt, that is usually worn by small children or women. And I don’t know if the Brit version included some version of the phrase “knocking someone up” but that phrase has a *very* different meaning in the US. I think that’s about the extent of it, really.
I’m still annoyed at the “Philosopher’s Stone” becoming the “Sorcerer’s Stone” though. I know enough history that when I read the first HP I was saying “But that’s the PHILOSOPHER’S stone…” (I hadn’t yet heard that they’d changed the name.
For the matter of Tolkien and the Nazis, see Letters No. 29 and 30, 25 July 1938. It had to do with publication of a German translation of The Hobbit.
**Tolkien as Libertarian**
3 superb essays on the web
“Why Do They Hate Him?”
http://www.lewrockwell.com/carson/carson10.html
“Tolkien v. Power”
http://www.mises.org/fullstory.asp?control=899
“Tolkien vs. Socialism”
http://www.lewrockwell.com/orig2/stagnaro6.html