Way back when, in a bygone age, when kids were doing normal kids' stuff, like playing Playstation and Gameboy, and trading Pokémon, a brand new craze was sweeping the nation in the form of these clumps of pocket-sized paper, bound in cardboard and full of words, that made sentences, that made paragraphs, pages, chapters and, when taken in their entirety, whole stories!
Many, including myself, saw it as a bit of a fad, but one of these clumps in particular caused it to catch on. It was about a scrawny little orphan with bad hair, living with his aunt and uncle, who finds out he's destined to be a great magician, and with the help of a doddery old man and a pair of companions - a stuck-up little princess a little more gung-ho than she seems, and a pragmatic boy just out for the easy life (though hiding a brave, loyal heart) - he takes on a powerful dark lord and ultimately triumphs through a mixture of ingenuity, luck and trusting in himself.
And that story was called Star Wars: A New Hope.
Or, at least, the remastered, cinematic release was: the papery version was titled Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (I assume for copyright reasons).
Two decades, a few more books, an entire film franchise, a theme park and now a stage production later (as well as a pound or two flooding the bank account of its author), and the thing is such a British institution, I figured it was about time I saw what all the fuss was about.
This isn't the first time I've picked up a Harry Potter. I did give it a try back when it was just becoming a thing, but I failed to get beyond the first two pages. When I was the target age for Potter, I was reading Roald Dahl, and I found Rowling's writing to be a bit too amateurish and patronising in comparison, but I was still a precocious, pretentious, high-strung teenager at the time, so what did I know?
Now that I'm a precocious, pretentious, high-strung adult, I find it easier to detach myself from those earlier misgivings and (paradoxically) appreciate her style for the audience it's aimed at. In that, I find myself wishing Rowling had picked up her pen ten years earlier, though I also question whether her, frankly, higher-brow stories would have distracted me from the whimsical ease of The Witches, The BFG, George's Marvellous Medicine and The Twits.
The big problem with reviewing this now, of course, is it is such a part of our social identity, it's impossible to view it through the eyes of someone introduced to this world for the first time. The Hogwarts Express left me at the station, with my nose in a copy of The Hobbit, long ago, and I've only ever been aware of it on the periphery; observing its growing popularity, cultural integration, and critical and public acclaim as one would the impact of the Tomb Raider franchise from the perspective of someone who believes entertainment peeked around the time of E.T., and even I was well aware of what 'Muggle', 'Golden Snitch' and 'The Boy Who Lived' meant.
Still, outside of someone twice my age, who thinks fantasy's for five year-olds, I'm about as detached and objective as it gets, so here goes...
It's rather good.
I'm not going to bother regurgitating the plot as those who don't already know are either too young to be reading this (go to bed!), too old to care or haven't yet evolved far enough up the ladder to understand the concept of language; suffice to say, these days at least, it isn't particularly original. However, it is worth noting that, back in 1997, the concept of a child of destiny taken from his mundane, everyday existence to learn about his true power at a school for other gifted youngsters was a tad rare (lest it was run by a bald, crippled mind-reader with severe split-personality issues).
The writing itself is breezy and whimsical, though while clearly aimed mainly at 8-12 year-olds, there's enough colour, depth and darkness to engage older readers. It moves at a good pace, has enough twists to keep the narrative involving, and is set in a well-constructed universe just close enough to reality to be relatable, while still incorporating every fantasy trope under the sun. In fact, one of the biggest strengths of the novel is how many of these tropes are effortlessly subverted by their mere presence in this particular world; whether it be giants getting tipsy with goblins in their favourite local, or the arrival of ancient, mystical centaurs getting on a character's nerves because they're too distracted by the state of the planets to answer a simple question.
What I found most surprising was how well the ending worked. It has been many years since I watched the film, and I wasn't particularly engaged with it when I did, but I do remember the ending encompassing all of my worst fears about the franchise.
*SPOILER ALERT* (for the ancient cave dwellers among you who might not know)
After going through a bunch of trials to reach the final confrontation, Harry looks in a mirror, finds he actually has the plot's MacGuffin in his pocket, and the bad-guy dissolves on contact with our 'hero' because of his love for his parents.
Blech!
I found it so sickeningly saccharine and toothless, any vague interest that may have lingered to see how this thing played itself out was wiped clean from my mind.
I can't say whether my reaction was due to my already dismissive attitude and fleeting interest at the time, or simply poor film-making (I'd have to re-watch it to find out), but I found that same ending as played out in the book far more satisfying. As far as I recall, the final confrontation in the book is far more drawn-out and graphic than it was in the film, ramping up the excitement, as well as giving a stronger sense of catharsis when it was all over. And Dumbledore's explanation for why everything played out as it did seemed to make more sense, and didn't feel at all (or as much) like a Dues Ex Machina ending, as the film's did.
My one concern about the series going forward is the length of each subsequent novel. Philosopher's Stone was a good length; packed with plenty of goings on, without feeling bloated or outstaying its welcome. Before the series reaches its conclusion, the individual novels grow to Lord of the Rings scale, and I struggle to imagine these characters engaging me for so long a stretch in a single story.
Still, I was surprised by how much I enjoyed book 1, so I now head into the rest of the series with an open mind.
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