![]() ![]() And often – confirming what the three of them already learned by experience at Hogwarts – the only way to get what you want is to circumvent the rules. The government, with few exceptions the adults, are closed-minded and prejudiced (Hippogriffs are wild and dangerous!) and easily bought. As I recall, though other terrible things happened in the earlier books – Hagrid being sent to Azkaban, for one big one which is actually played down more than I’d expect – this was the first time they learned that their leaders could not be relied on even in a matter of the life or death of an intelligent creature. As far as they are aware at that moment, an innocent (relatively) creature is put to death, and there was nothing in the world, magical or mundane, that they could do to stop it. And, after, as Hermione sways in shock, all I could think was that even after all they’d been through, this was solid and undeniable proof for them at a very young age that their government was corrupt: they know without question that Lucius Malfoy though fear and cronyism has rigged this game from the beginning, and they never stood a chance. The kids were furious and horrified and helpless. Hagrid’s grief wasn’t played for laughs at all anymore by this time – no more handkerchiefs the size of tablecloths, no more helpless sobbing. That was the first element of surprise the second was how heart-rending it was. The book’s version is excellent in its place, and the film’s version is excellent for its purposes – uncommon. I was expecting the tightly choreographed dance that Harry and Hermione executed in the film, and there was little sign of it. It’s at least four years since I read this, and listening to the pivotal scene in which Harry, Ron, and Hermione hear the executioner’s blade come down was a surprise: the film-makers changed this whole segment dramatically. **Spoilers** (but if they’re spoilers, seriously, go read the book please.) The books will never be held up as textbook examples of perfect writing, but I think they’re going to last a very, very long time as textbook examples of great storytelling. There’s nothing as breathtaking as something out of Tolkien or Guy Kay, but neither is there anything eye-rollingly egregious: the writing exists to tell the tale, and the tale is well served by straightforward and transparent telling. I don’t notice excessive use of adverbs (at least I didn’t before reading Stephen King’s article a while back) or any failing in action scenes. I’m always mildly surprised at attacks on Jo Rowling’s writing, because … I don’t care. Like any friend it isn’t perfect, but like a good friend, while it’s had a bad day here and there, it’s never let me down. ![]() Harry Potter for me long ago stopped being books to be analyzed and dissected, plots to be judged and syntax to be critiqued. Although his girls and Hermione’s constant “Har-reeeee!” do twinge a nerve or two. Harry, funnily, sounds a lot like Daniel Radcliffe, and Hagrid is wonderfully Robbie Coltrane. He has a voice for every character: Aunt Marge sounded like her dentures didn’t fit, and Lupin is slow and deliberate Snape hisses and McGonagall is Scots. A Goodreads acquaintance prefers Stephen Fry’s British audiobook, and found Dale to be a bit over the top – and I can’t argue with that adjective. The latter is one reason I was excited about listening I became his willing slave with Pushing Daisies. I can enjoy the characters and, yes, the writing, and of course Jim Dale’s performance. This would drive a lot of people up a wall, I take it, but I’m happy. I’ve read it at least a couple of times over the years, and I’ve seen the movie – oh, I don’t know, probably a couple of times in its entirety, and bits and pieces dozens of times, so I know what’s going to happen and about when. It was so interesting to listen to this book.
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