Category: Books & Comics

Watchmen comic, I am sorry. I am really, really, really, sorry. In my Watchmen movie review, I was really nasty to you. Said you were another generic comic about people doning spandex. I didn’t see, I just didn’t see: I didn’t see your literary genious, your premise to end all spandex wearing super hero comics for ever. Will you ever forgive me?

The story should be known by now, but I can quote how it all started: “Last night, a comedian died.” It’s the first domino in a series of ever more (psychologically) gruesome sequences leading to a stunning (but very confusing) conclusion. It’s the typical voice of the eighties: the world sucks and we can’t do anything about it.

It’s interesting that I didn’t see this in the movie, which is definitely one of the better comic-to-silver-screen translations out there. I guess it’s got something to do with the use of literature, the story inside the story. Watchmen uses a lot of alternative ways of storytelling and tells a lot of things all at once, something a movie just can’t do without ending up garbled. So the deeper, poetic meaning gets lost.

There are so many things I could write about Watchmen, but as they would all amount to fanboyish talk about the comic’s coolest moments (Doc Manhattan on Mars being the cream of the crop), I’ll just shut up and tell you all to read it.

Well, it took me a while, but I’m finally through. Whew. His Dark Materials concludes its trilogy in the Amber Spyglass, and it shows: this book is about double the size of The Subtle Knife, part two of the trilogy, and about five times as many things seem to happen. Which is not necessarily a good thing.

Authority’s End

The third book doesn’t really try to hide it anymore, and swiftly fills us in on what’s actually going on: the Authority – aka God – is an old dictator sitting atop a huge mountain, trapping the dead in the underworld. And this has to stop. And that has to be done by Lyra and Will. And so on, and so on. Other than Lyra and Will, there’s also the story of Mrs. Coulter, that of Lord Asriel, the one with Serafina Pekkala, the other concerning Mary Malone and then some more spread around here and there.

That’s quite the story – even if you’ve got nearly five hundred pages to tell it in. The storylines jump all over the place, but they still come together more or less at the end. It’s a miracle how Pullman even came close to pulling this feat off: I was under the impression that he made most of it up while he went along (except for the whole “death of God” thing), but he still did have an ending in mind.

The end of the end

The ending – and by that, I mean the last twentysomething pages of the book – is easily the best part about it: it’s bittersweet; I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more bittersweet than this. And, to be honest, it’s just about the only part in the Amber Spyglass that comes even close to the brilliance of the Golden Compass. It’s too much of everything, there’s too many things going on, so I don’t know whom to care about still.

So I end up caring for no one.

It’s a shame, because the characters are beautiful. Mary Malone is a dear – it’s just that I had her a nibble of her for breakfast and then was stuffed the rest of her down my throat in the end. It doesn’t work that way. Father Gomez seemed like an interesting character, but I guess looking inside the oven made the cake look a lot bigger than the crumb it was. I never really got to know anyone, except for Will, Lyra, Mrs. Coulter and Lord Asriel. And even then: the bombastic effort at which the latter two flung their storyline at me was way too plot-oriented. If only there had been a bit of a breather now and again.

In all…

Sooner or later, you’ll have to admit it: there’s a lot of stuff lacking in the Amber Spyglass. The story’s all over the place, there’s too many characters around to even remember all of their names… and then, when it comes down to it: the end of the authority is pretty much an empty shell, an anticlimax.

I’m trying to find out where it went wrong. Should Pullman have toned down his story, so that he could make it into a more coherent whole? Or did he simply need more time to tell it? To be honest, I think Pullman started losing focus on what was important partway through The Subtle Knife. Maybe he just needed to have planned it all a bit better?

Every time I read The Subtle Knife, I am completely amazed at the way it starts: it’s hard to tell this is a sequel to the Golden Compass. The Subtle Knife is completely different in every aspect: you’ve no idea where the story is going, you’re completely lost in the masses of new characters and perspectives, and… well, worlds.

I’d like to say that The Subtle Knife picks up where The Golden Compass left us, only that would be oversimplifying matters. The Subtle Knife introduces us to Will Parry (in our world!), a boy trying to hide his mother. In doing so, he bumps into Lyra. And also kills a man. Bummer.

On the other side of the story, we are following the witch called Serafina Pekkala (which I find odd, seeing how she was such a by-side character in the first part), Lee Scoresby (same remark, but at least he was never a source of mystery) and a woman called Mary Malone (seriously, who is she?). They all have different goals which are all over the place but still mysteriously come together at the end. Because, you know, very little happened.

This book is a bit of a mess. It’s like jumping in a pool and swimming in one location: it all feels a bit pointless. It does build towards something, but for me, that something is either not obvious enough, too obvious, or it doesn’t even workd at all. The engine’s running, but no one’s at the wheel.

Still, the Subtle Knife is a wonderful book which takes the concept of the Golden Compass and expands it. I think that’s the reason I enjoy it so much: whatever happened before was just a tiny speck on the surface of this part. And the fact that the story’s progress doesn’t really work all that well kind of speaks in the book’s advantage: things get complicated and layers of understanding emerge.

This book gets increasingly theological and metaphysical. Suddenly, as things become more clear, you slowly start seeing the truth: this is a book about killing an Authority – one named God. Combining this with layers and layers of different worlds is a difficult task, so I have to say Pullman managed well. This story is progressing, it’s just unbelievable what it’s progressing to.

In All…

This book is the shortest of the three. It’s a shame, really; it should have been a bit longer. It consists of fifteen extremely long chapters (in comparison to the Golden Compass). I personally think some chapters should have been split into smaller parts, which in turn had to be a bit more goal-oriented and fun. This is supposed to be a children’s book; I’m still unsure whether I would shove this in a child’s hands. The excitement and tension gets lost in the philosophical babble – which go on and on and on – your kid would have to be quite the reader to keep up.

On the other hand, I do think the theme is pretty interesting for children. Most people seem to turn away from discussing religion with children in this manner. I, personally, think a strong work of fiction is the best way to get them to actively wonder about the world around them and the standards attached to it…

His Dark Materials is a series of books which, unbelievably so, work for me. The story’s progress is extremely dodgy, the themes are so hard that they kind of explode out of itself, and by the start of the third book, you are wondering what the hell it is you’re reading, and how this is going to reach a satisfying conclusion. It’s unbelievable. I don’t really get it myself either.

The first book, the Golden Compass, follows the character of Lyra Belacqua, a young girl living in a world not quite unlike our own, where people have daemons instead of… well, hard to tell, really. Daemons take on the forms of all sort of animals in childs and then settle to one form in adolescence (and afterwards). Lyra is living at Oxford, a prestigious university, when she witnesses the Master of Jordan trying to poison her Uncle, Lord Asriel, a mighty man with incredible plans up north.

The central question the series revolves around, has something to do with the nature of Dust (with capital D), a grouping of particles that settle around adults, but not children. Lyra’s plot is a little less philosophical in its nature: she is looking for her friend Roger (a kitchen boy at Jordan), who has been kidnapped by an organisation called “The Gobblers” – along with dozens of others.

The first part is the clearest in the series: we follow Lyra as she heads up north looking for Roger, and that’s pretty much it. When I first read the book, I wasn’t really impressed by it – up till the last chapter, which sets up the second (and third) book. It’s a typical epic story, with a lot of travel involved.

What did drag me in, however, was the world it played in. Sure, I’ve seen worlds that are almost like ours (apocalypse, alternate universes), but never one like this: it’s all there, but it’s all slightly different. Due to its similar nature to ours, you really get the impression that this world can exist. Except for the talking bears. That’s still just weird.

In All…

I’m still impressed that such a great book got turned into such a messy movie. On the other hand, I’m still impressed that such a great book could be so messy. The Golden Compass is still okay, though. It delivers a solid story with a batch of nicely developed characters. It’s also really exciting, and delivers a nice twist at the end. Give it a try, you might be as sold as I am.

I’m always mixed about the Deathly Hallows. It’s okay as a book, but I can’t help but feeling disappointed – and not in a good way, either. As a climax for any series, it’d be a okay. As a climax for this series, however, it does not deliver accordingly.

In my Half-Blood Prince review, I already said we’d be moving into the domain of tragically depressing. I stand by this. Seriously: how many people need to die senselessly? Yes, I know Rowling’s trying very hard to show the pointlesness of the whole war thing, but come on: loads and loads of people bite the dust for no reason. Two of them don’t even get a scene, just their corpses on the floor, lined up next to others. I know you’re supposed to kill your darlings, but this is just ridiculous. If there had been – say – four deaths in total, they would have been a lot more shocking.

I like Moody’s death, for instance. It resonates throughout the entire story. Moody dying also makes sense: if he’s dead, then who can still be safe? Dobby’s death was pointless, but if you want to show the stupidity of was, then this is the way to go. I think execution is to blame here: this is never made clear (or never meant, meaning that Dobby was just another casualty for Rowling – which I refuse to believe). Three other deaths – Fred, Lupin and Tonks – are just plain stupid: there is no way Rowling can still mourn those characters – the book is over by the time she can do so. I think it is unbelievable she decided to have three pointless deaths at the final showdown – bad storytelling, bad!

I also personally would have wanted to see more Neville. Why couldn’t they have gone to Hogwarts in September? Snape could have been made principal a bit later, causing the muggle repression to start a bit later. This would have ensured that Harry, Ron and Hermione fled from Hogwarts, thus passing the torch to Neville. Neville’s reveal at the end is cool, but I still kept thinking that I would’ve enjoyed it more if this book had actually been about him running amok all over school.

It just doesn’t work anymore. It all feels a bit dodgy. Hiding in the woods, chasing Horcruxes (never mind the Hallows, which I found an even more pointless plot device than the Horcruxes themselves). It’s mayhem all right – such is war – but it’s just about as pointless to watch as Apocalypse Now. But that movie is based onto something truthful, so it makes sense. There’s no point in a making a movie that looks like you’re working on a trauma, if there’s no trauma in sight.

In All…

I think the final chapter of the series is a typical situation of how a strong way of telling a story can turn against you: the story never deviates from using Harry’s point of view. This works perfectly as long as Harry is in Hogwarts, at the centre of attention. But if you park your main characters in the middle of the woods, how will you let them maintain that link to the outside world?

It’s the silence before the storm. It’s the eye of the tornado. It’s that one moment where you’re safe, but you know you’re in the middle of something big, something that’s going to explode soon. So what do you do, as a normal human being? You try to enjoy those little moments you have left. That’s the feeling I get when reading The Half-Blood Prince: enjoy the jokes, while they last.

For me, The Half-Blood Prince is the height of the series: it’s the last time you can honestly say you’re reading a Harry Potter book without thinking a “but” after it. This book is wonderful, it’s funny and witty – but it’s also the last time a Harry Potter book is going to be that way, and that is something that makes my heart tear apart time and again.

At the centre of attention in this book is Dumbledore (but then again, you could argue he is the center of the attention of the Deathly Hallows… and every book in the series): he is finally opening up to Harry – albeit partially – and showing all there is to show about the nemesis, Voldemort: his youth, his character, his fortes and weaknesses. These chapters are very, very exciting, but also introduce something else: Dumbledore’s death.

It was certain that Harry, in order to truly become an adult, has to face Voldemort by himself, without the help of Dumbledore. Dumbledore’s sort of been the Merlin character of the series, and obviously has to die before it is all over. The whole buildup to this is nice, but still a bit shrouded in mystery. It will make for the finer moments of Deathly Hallows.

The Half-Blood Prince is a book centered around the here and now: because Rowling knew the jokes would be over soon, she focused every bit of her energy on making this book witty. For me, it worked. It’s nice to have grown with these characters and then watch them all when they start fooling around with each-other. Because, hey, even if the world will end tomorrow, you wouldn’t mind a shag today, right?

In All…

It’s a bit of a bitter experience, when it boils down to it. It’s the last stop in happytown, and we’re moving to the domain of tragically depressing. Harry’s now grown up, and the series will be aswell. Whoop-tee-doo.

It’s hard to like “the Order of the Phoenix” unconditionally. It’s obviously a good book – they’ve all been up to this point – but it feels a bit off. All of a sudden, the font’s smaller (at least, in the Bloomsbury edition), the book’s a lot bigger and there’s a lot of frustrating stuff going on. I guess frustration is the keyword for this part, and the tagline: it has to get worse before it gets better.

One of the three key characters to induce said frustration is the big bad wolf of Order of the Phoenix: Dolores Umbridge. I personally love the character: she brings about everything I hated in my studies as an educational scientist – the butting in, the rosey use of language, the rulemaking – but cranked up a notch: obviously this character is exaggerated in such a way that, by the time she’s getting whacked by the centaurs, it’s very, very hard to like her. Add to that the ministry as a whole and you’ve got reason enough to shout profanity at a piece of paper.

The second frustrated person is Sirius Black. Personally, I can understand why Black needed to die: in order for Harry to come of age, he needs to be able to stand on his own. The godfather dying is there to show that Harry is not an adult yet and can’t live without him. It’s nice. I do, however, find it a bit of a shame that Black was underused in the fifth book: you see a lot of him near the beginning (seriously, they take more than a hundred pages to even reach Hogwarts precisely for this reason) but then it’s just now and again. Rowling did her best though, she crammed him into every possible corner. And face it: if he’d have come and visit Harry, he wouldn’t be frustrated anymore, and that’s precisely what this book is about.

Last but not least, Harry is angry aswell. He’s reached the lowest point in his development as a hero: one of his mates has died, he’s been called a liar (and even blamed by some) and needs to reinvent himself. All the snapping at Ron and Hermione does get old after a while, though. It’s amazing how the shock of his godfather removed some of the anger inside Harry – maybe the shock caused him to grow up a bit? Maybe it was just what he needed?

In all…

Now, don’t get me wrong: I like the Order of the Phoenix. I’m just glad the other books are this massive. I understand the size of it perfectly, though: there’s so many things going on in this chapter that it’s hard to keep focus. Rowling took her time to tell the story, and it payed off.

And we’re off! Playtime is over, it’s time to enter the big boys’ playground. It was bound to happen sooner or later – you’d be sticking your head in the sand if you said otherwise – and here it is: what started as what can be described as the most adventurous epoch in the series so far, suddenly turned into the beginning of the end, the moment where shit hits the fan and people get hurt.

For the first time in the series, women hit the stage, as some sort of unknown aliens that are even scarier than the big You-Know-Who himself. If you’re getting the impressions that you want to shake and slap Harry and Ron in the face, that means Rowling’s magic is working: the boys have finally entered puberty, the stage we’ve all learned to embrace and hate at the same time. Victim of the illness is poor Hermione – but if you can’t see something on the horizon, then you’re blind.

The fourth book also sets up the element of wand lore – which will be of massive importance in the final book. I’m not a big fan of wand lore, it all feels a bit convenient in the final part, but at least she told us it was coming in advance. And I have to admit: the Priori Incantatem chapter was pretty rad, even if they got the order of Harry’s parents mixed up.

I think that, of all seven books, this one has the most shocker ending. Cedric Diggory’s death is something I did not want to believe when I first read the book: he was the first one to go (even if only a foreboding for the massive slaughter that is yet to come at that point) and seeing how he was set up as an almost perfect hero, that’s harsh. I mean: if it says “Cedric Diggory was dead” black on white and you still won’t believe it, that means it stuck.

Let me get right down to business: in my opinion, the Prisoner of Azkaban is the part of the Harry Potter series that defined the series and put it on solid ground, ensuring the critical acclaim of every book after it. It’s no coincidence that for the movie, the production team chucked out Chris Columbus and settled for Alfonso Cuarón. This book is just that good.

I’ll start by stating the following: this is the first book in which one gets the impression that Harry and his friends have grown. They’ve entered puberty, two years have passed since the start of the series and it shows. Suddenly, you can understand what it means that this series will span seven years in the end: that Harry will be seventeen by the end of it, and hence, well, a lot older and bigger than he is now.

The trend started in the Chamber of Secrets gets expanded on too: in part two, we found out that Tom Riddle was attending Hogwarts fifty years ago. For this part, we don’t have to dig that far back: his father and three friends shared a good deal of adventures back in their day a good twenty years ago. The series suddenly consists of two layers: Harry’s adventures and his father’s – which have their influence on the aforementioned.

This second layer gets its life from one person: Sirius Black. Sirius Black causes important plot elements to be described, such as Azkaban. He also has another important function: he links Harry to the rise and fall of his parents. Up till this point, Harry had always existed in a vacuum: he had no one, was completely oblivious towards the world around him – and that worked. But as soon as Harry’s godfather entered the stage, there was no more doubt: Harry hadn’t been a normal boy the first eleven years of his existence. He’s always been a wizard.

In All…

I could go on and on about The Prisoner of Azkaban. Its clue is one of the best ones in the series. You just never would have guessed that something introduced in the first novel would actually still matter. But it does, and I love it. Once again, Rowling succeeded in leading me in the completely opposite direction and then dropped a bomb shell. Enjoy it, it’ll be the last time…

Completely unexpectedly, the first Harry Potter book became an overnight success. Even though, as I have expressed in my rant, it has one big problem: it’s very fragmented. It could do well with the prefix “The adventures of” stamped in front of the title. Because that’s what it feels like: a whole lot of good ideas stuffed into one good book.

The second book takes the concept of the first, but ups the ante by actually creating a causal line. Everything flows from one thing into the next in a logical manner. Nothing ever comes out of the blue, and it all makes sense.

The plot itself involved to go with that: whereas the first book had us believing we were reading children’s literature, which meant Snape had to be the vilain, the second book goes a step further: this time around, an innocent person is being controlled by the bad guy. Obviously, this storyline is brought back to Lord Voldemort, the big bad wolf of the series. A nice decision which makes perfect sense and I never saw it coming the first time around.

In All…

You can tell Rowling’s shaping up the wizarding world in the second book. A lot of important characters get faces (the Weasly family and the Minister of Magic, for instance) and we get our first real look at the young Tom Riddle. There’s a lot more excitement this time around, even if there is less adventure. And you get to see what happens if you kill a ghost. Everybody’s a winner!