Review: J.K. Rowling’s “Harry Potter” Series

by Miles Raymer

HP

A whole class of first-years could have graduated from Hogwarts since 2007, when J.K. Rowling shocked the world by concluding the Harry Potter series with a book that delighted the vast majority of her rabid fans. It’s still a wonder she pulled it off, given the pressure she must have felt to avoid being tarred and feathered in the wake of an ill-received final installment. As a member of the lucky generation that grew up with Harry and was more or less his age each time a new book came out, I thought this summer might be a good time to revisit this world and see what it has to offer a guy in his late twenties. Quite a lot, it turns out!

The biggest difference between the reader I was in my teens and the reader I am today is that the latter can assess the overall coherence of a fictional world. As a regular consumer of hard science fiction and an occasional dabbler in fantasy, world coherence is a big concern for me; it distinguishes the exceptional from the merely amusing. I had friends in high school who could critique world-building long before the notion ever occurred to me, and now I understand why some of them became disenchanted with this series as it progressed.

The Harry Potter universe falls apart almost entirely when subjected to more than a cursory level of scrutiny. Without any set of mechanisms from which the general rules of magic might be derived, there’s nothing to save this series from its innumerable self-contradictions. The arbitrary nature of magical medicine is particularly fuzzy and infuriating, as is the absence of any consistent theory of spell-casting. In this world, magic serves the needs of the author, plain and simple. When Rowling needs it to create conflict, magic does that. When she needs it to resolve conflict, it does that too. When she needs it to elicit a chuckle, punctuate a somber moment, or plug a plot hole, magic is more than happy to comply. The result is a highly imaginative, charming, and wholly nonsensical world. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s how magic works, Rowling would say.

Even if she’s not a card-carrying member of the fictional world-building union, Rowling makes up for it with wit and character. Pretty much without exception, the situations and people that populate this series are fun, interesting, and endearing. Rarely do I find myself rooting as hard for any fictional characters as I did for Harry, Ron, Hermione, and their many partners in the battle against Lord Voldemort. The relationships between the three protagonists are believable, admirable, and increasingly complicated as they get older.

My favorite part about Harry is how his relative normalcy contrasts his unsought fame. Beyond being more courageous than your average teen and an uncommonly good Quidditch player, he’s truly not exceptional. He’s a regular guy who gets by on luck, nerve, and having the right friends––the antithesis of the Ayn Rand-ish übermensch. As Harry himself acknowledges in Book 5:

I didn’t know what I was doing half the time, I didn’t plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help…I got through it all because––because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right––but I just blundered through it all, I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. (327)

This isn’t an attempt on Rowling’s part to make Harry look humble, but rather an honest assessment from a boy who knows that, by the age of fifteen, he should already be dead several times over. Harry’s most useful quality is his ability to inadvertently attract the kinds of people who can help him when the shit hits the fan. By simply being understanding and kind to those around him, Harry musters a force of supporters diverse and capable enough to help him overcome obstacles that would prove utterly insuperable on his own. Harry’s eventual triumph over Voldemort is the vindication of distributed power over consolidated force, of fellow-feeling over isolated greed.

But let’s not forget the real hero of these books: Hermione Granger. Hermione is easily the best character, responsible for saving more lives more times than even the most obsessive reader would care to count. Brilliant, sensitive, and exceedingly loyal, she is the perfect complement to Harry, and is pretty much the only reason he makes it out of the series alive. Ron is great too––every celebrity needs a down-to-earth best friend to keep his head on straight.

On the whole, this is a great series, but it’s important to emphasize how much better it gets as the characters grow older and advance in their magical educations. The first two books are fun and cute, but are basically mirror images of one another. Book 3 sees a marked jump in quality of both writing and storytelling, with Book 4 carrying on that trend, even as it sags somewhat from its unnecessary page-count. The final chapters of Book 4 bring forth a huge tonal shift, with Rowling making it clear that she will be taking on adult themes rather than continuing with the kiddy stuff. Book 5, while suffering from the same over-written pitfalls of its predecessor, provides the angst-filled slump that all coming of age stories require.

Book 6, by far my favorite in the series, is nothing short of fantastic. Rowling’s decision to unveil the details of Tom Riddle’s life and motivation brings a whole new dimension of ethical complexity to the conflict between Voldemort and Harry. The concept of the Horcrux is one of Rowling’s very best, both terrifying and perversely seductive. And the deepening of Harry’s relationship with Dumbledore imbues the book’s dark conclusion with devastating emotional clout. It’s The Empire Strikes Back of Harry Potter, and it’s glorious.

Book 7 does a serviceable job of wrapping up a tale that has become as personally engrossing as it is technically inconsistent. Rowling has to perform a few bizarre backflips to make it all come out right, but does so without violating the integrity of the characters and relationships we’ve come to adore. The book’s critical moments of noble sacrifice and bitter redemption––the fates of Dobby, Snape, and Harry himself––were every bit as heavy-hitting for my twenty-seven-year-old self as they were when I first read them.

If this is my generation’s fantastical guide to growing up, I’m happy to own it, faults and all. As we get older, I hope we will learn to embody the qualities that see Harry and his loved ones through the worst times––ingenuity, perseverance, loyalty, love. These books challenge us to choose the best in ourselves, even as we grapple with our numerous flaws.

What better message could we ask for, at any age?

Sorcerer’s Stone: 4/10

Chamber of Secrets: 3/10

Prisoner of Azkaban: 7/10

Goblet of Fire: 6/10

Order of the Phoenix: 8/10

Half-Blood Prince: 10/10

Deathly Hallows: 9/10

Overall Series Rating: 8/10