Ending at the Close: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Review

How do you turn away from something that has altered the paths you take, the flux and flow of how your creative life forms? Do you walk away and not look back? Do you acknowledge the time spent in this imagined world and recall it as only a faded page in your past?

For me, Harry Potter has never been merely a work of fiction. It's been bigger, greater for me than that and to minimize its affect on me would be an insult. Some may call me misguided, perhaps even a little sad for loving people who are not real and admiring the Creator Goddess of this fictitious world. But for me, Potter was the beginning: the beginning of friendships that I am certain will surpass my lifetime; practices on writing that could not be learned in a classroom and lessons of life shown through examples in words, formed in the imaginary.

So when something has meant so much, given so very much, one cannot simply walk away and forget or acknowledge it with little more than a cursory mention.

Rowling's world became, for me, a symbolic realization that dreams are, in fact, anything but impossible...that what one can fathom, can be achieved. She set the bar and dared us to cross it. She gave us a challenge and beckoned us to follow her along the way to greatness.

I've never quite embraced the love of 'fiction to film,' and so, any expectations for films based on books I've adored have been limited. Die hard Potter fans may scoff at missing plot lines, misspoken dialog or purported important details absent from the films. I understand that. But I also acknowledge that the films are not canon. They're simply another artistic expression of Rowling's work. This last film, however, evolves beyond that.

I write this review with a mind filled of chaotic, nearly bipolar emotions, so please forgive me for spoiling you or waxing on less than poetically about things that may, to the typical movie goer, seem unimportant. Ten years of my life, friends. A girl's gonna babble.

This film begins where Part 1 left off and does its best to set the slightly morose tone. Voldemort relishing his theft of Dumbledore's wand and Harry finishing up Dobby's burial with the fitting "Here Lies Dobby, A Free Elf." Yes, that one pulled a little tear-welling from my eyes.

Then we're swiftly off to Gringott's Bank, where Harry, Ron (Polyjuiced into a Death Eater), Hermione (Polyjuiced as Bella LeStrange) and the goblin Griphook sneak into the belly of the bank and fight the single most beautiful interpretation of a dragon I've seen on film and various random characters who try to stop them from pilfering through the LeStrange vault. Oh and that dragon? Beautiful, but very, very vicious.

Once the trio have captured Voldemort's Horcrux (Helga Hufflepuff's golden goblet for those of you taking notes), we see the beginnings of Voldemort's deterioration. In the film, much less so than in the novels, with each discovery of his Horcruxes Voldemort becomes that more demented, that more unstable. He is quickly realizing that he isn't as clever as he once believed and the result is his loosening grip on what he thinks will tether him to life. His psychotic behavior becomes, if you can believe it, more erratic and a random Death Eater or two feel the sting of that.

The trio descend on Hogsmeade and we finally meet the only Dumbledore left: Aberforth. Playing Aberforth is Ciarán Hinds and he is so convincing that I wonder if he isn't really Michael Gambon's (Albus Dumbledore) Doppelganger. We hear Aberforth's argument for 'giving up and going home' and Harry's immediate 'not going to happen' response, but the details of the Dumbledore family's tragic past is glossed over, as is the basis of the two Dumbledore brothers bitter relationship. However, this scene is done in such a way that I don't believe die hard fans will be dissatisfied. Especially since the appearance of Neville Longbottom in Ariana Dumbledore's portrait leads us to Hogwarts and the bubbling action of the film.

Despite the dark tone of the film, there is humor, given to us, as per usual, by Rupert Grint(Ron Weasley), but what brother wouldn't be offended if his sister completely ignored him in favor of Emo-gawking at her long lost boyfriend?

By this time, we are at Hogwarts proper and quickly subjected to the "new regime" of the school: Snape as Headmaster. Students are lined up, military style, and interrogated by Snape and his Death Eater minions about the presence of Harry Potter in Hogsmeade . With brief prompting for anyone with knowledge of Potter's whereabouts, Harry emerges and proceeds to offer Snape a vicious, (and well-deserved) tongue lashing. They do not, however, duel. That small job is taken over by Professor McGonagall, the ever elegant and brilliant Maggie Smith.

Snape flees, (after receiving quite the magical spanking from our favorite Transfiguration professor) and McGonagall directs everyone to "batten down the hatches" and prepare for battle. The castle comes alive...stone guards and imposing statues are animated and students, Order members and staff pull together to construct an amazing protective barrier around Hogwarts.

EDIT: How could I forget? For nearly four books, many true Potter fans have been waiting. There were awkward silences, years and years of innuendo and unresolved sexual tension, jealousies and arguing but finally, finally, there it was: Ron and Hermione, in the Chamber of Secrets, nearly dying and then...a kiss. Well, a kiss, a tiny pause of awkwardness and a giant smiling laugh.

There is so much chaotic activity by now, (the castle prepares for war, Harry searches for the one of the last Horcruxes (Ravenclaw's diadem)), that I almost forgot what would happen next. It nearly slipped my mind that Snape would soon die and when the time came, I was a sobbing mess.

For years, readers wondered 'Is Snape really evil?' Certainly, if we followed Harry's perspective of Dumbledore's death, we assumed that he was; that he was truly a vile creature who hated Harry because he played a hand in making Voldemort vanish when he was an infant. But with Deathly Hallows we discovered things simply aren't black and white. We learned that Snape's animosity toward Harry had little to due with Voldemort's destruction and everything to do with simple jealousy. Going in, I knew Snape's agenda...I knew his unyielding love for Lily Potter was the genesis of his hatred; that he protected Harry only because he was the son of the woman he loved from childhood. But seeing it? Watching it unfold, was something altogether overwhelming. I'd be an idiot to discount Alan Rickman's talent. His CV speaks for itself. But Snape's death, which was violent and made crueler by the fact we saw only its silhouette, was a perfect mirror of Rowling's description in the book. There was a vulnerability never present previously on Snape's face...there was pain and a real sense that he had failed Lily when Harry watched him die. And then, there was the 'take my memories' bit and the heartbreaking 'look at me...you have your mother's eyes.'

In that moment, with Rickman's face scrunched in pain and regret, for just a moment, Snape is loved and perfectly understood. On the background of the slow, haunting 'death music' I guarantee you, the only other sound you will hear in this scene is the mass sniffling of hundreds of theater goers.

From this point, I'd advise keeping a tissue, or several, close at hand.

We see Snape's memories-- his history with Lily and their childhood, his jealously over James Potter and his conversations and dealings with Dumbledore once the Potters are marked for death--all leading up to his mad dash up the stairs to cradle the lifeless body of his one true love. And, of course, the revelation that Harry is marked for death.

More sobbing here, more necessary tissues.

And, finally, Harry knows the truth. He is a Horocrux. He must face death and he must not fight back, not just yet.

The sequence is, perhaps, wrong but it is around this time that we learn the long list of the Battle victims.

Fred Weasley. Well, I defy you NOT to cry when George grabs Ron and then he sobs and wails over his dead brother's body. Just not possible, folks.

Lupin and Tonks. New parents, which was only hinted at during the last film. Harry looks at their still, pale bodies and, though I know I missed the other bodies around them, I was transfixed. They were dead, to be certain. I couldn't say for sure what they looked like because, by this time, my eyes were a clouded mess and my vision was obscured by the ridiculous amounts of tears. So. Incredibly. Heartbreaking.

This emotional display was only made worse when Harry tells Ron and Hermione that he has to face Voldemort, that he must go to the forest. Thank you, Emma Watson, for having absolutely no regard for just how good my makeup looked last night. By the time she hugged Harry and the trio said their goodbye, I was quite clown face-looking.

My husband is a blokey-bloke sort of guy. (Bear with me, I am going somewhere). He's not very emotional, not altogether a mushy type, which suites me perfectly. But when we read the Potter novels, there were certain parts in the books that had him cursing AND crying: when Harry returns from the Graveyard in GoF; when James and Lily emerge from Voldemort's wand, when Dumbledore is murdered and, of course, when Harry approaches the Forbidden Forest on his way to face Voldemort and uses the Resurrection Stone to summon his parents, Sirius and Lupin.

The book chapter is titled "The Forest Again," but I like to refer to it as "The Escort of the Dead." Of all the things I eagerly anticipated seeing, it was this scene. Harry turns the stone over and before him are his family-- those who sacrificed themselves, either indirectly or not, for Harry. At this point, Blokey Husband was wiping his face and my shoulders shook a time or two.

The chin quivering started properly as Harry approached Voldemort and was swiftly 'killed.'

Then there was the all-too-brief exposition at "King's Cross," with a much 'Gandalf The White-looking' Dumbledore, the hideous 'last bit of Voldemort's soul' baby which disgusts Harry and we're back in the forest.

Hagrid carries Harry down the bridge, flanked by Voldemort and his Death Eaters and the Order and the students endure Voldemort's ribbing that he has at last killed Harry. (Bonnie Wright, you're on my pffft list as well for making me more of a sobbing mess).

Have I mentioned Neville Longbottom yet? Let me clarify: Neville Freakin Longbottom. I loved, loved, loved Matt Lewis here. Gone forever is the chubby little guy who was always chasing his escaping toad. Vanished is the idea of a shy, timid little boy bitterly encumbered by his awkwardness. Longbottom is a warrior in this film, as he was in the book, and Lewis shines in this scene, his monologue perfection. And. He. Killed. Nagini. Yes, yes, yes!

More battling ensues, Death Eaters flee and Mrs. Weasley, says 'the' line as she kills Bella. Prepare yourself for the entire theater to jump to their seats and sing out choruses of a resounding YES!!!!

Yates took some liberties with the final battle and the only complaints I heard about the film have to do with that. There is no great reveal that Harry is alive in the Great Hall because he and Voldemort partake in a bit of a cat and mouse chase through the castle, in the skies (sort of weird, that) and finally duel each other in the courtyard, alone, in front of the castle. The Elder Wand flies up and is gripped in the hands of its true master and Voldemort disintegrates into ash and his no more.

Harry walks through the Great Hall, smiling at all those who remain, then he and his best friends end up on the bridge, battle bruised but alive, debating what to do with the Elder Wand. Harry snaps it in two and throws it over the bridge and the trio holds hands, taking in all that the day has brought them.

And then...

Nineteen Years Later

Complaints about the epilogue have sounded since the release of Deathly Hallows. Many hated the quick gloss over what happened after Voldemort was vanquished. Readers were robbed of any real closure. There were no funerals, no memorials and any knowledge we received of what happened to those who survived came in interviews from Rowling. But the epilogue was written some seventeen years ago. Rowling used it as a device to motivate her to end her series. She used it as something to look forward to. I assume she wanted to see the finish line while in the midst of all those writing years.

In any event, we knew that Harry and Ginny married. We knew that their children, (James Sirius, Lily Luna and Albus Severus) would make an appearance. We knew that older versions of Dan Radcliffe and Bonnie Wright would emerge at King's Cross to bring the newest generation of Potters-at-Hogwarts to Platform 9 3/4. I personally had little faith that this would be done precisely and without bordering on a bit silly. I was wrong. The actors were aged appropriately and the entire scene was a fitting, happy ending to what had been an exciting, exhausting film. I was pleased to see an older Harry counseling his son on how to avoid or embrace Slytherin House. I was amused to see Ron and Hermione (and even Draco) saying goodbye to their children. But as the camera panned back and the activity around them faded, we see the trio- older, stronger, survivors-- watching as their children take the trip they'd made so many years before. They were saying goodbye, not just to their kids, but to us as well.

Ten years is a long time to invest in a series. There have been moments of exhaustion (I'm pretty sure there were many times my friends and family wished I'd never cracked open the first Potter book). But it was a remarkable ride and this film, was, I think, a beautiful 'tip of the hat' to all of Rowling's readers, all of us who straddle the threshold of fan and obsessed loon and to the the amazing, amazing lady herself.

All was epically well.

Review: Pale Demon by Kim Harrison

There are a hundred different reasons why we read.

Some of us like the process of acquiring knowledge on a given subject. Some like the escapism provided by an underdog overcoming insurmountable odds. In any given story, the reader can become an active participant. We see ourselves in the characters we read about, or we can at least sympathize with the hero, with the damsel, with the everyday Joe whose journey we purposefully decide to follow.

We read for enjoyment, for the needed desire to feel joy, terror, passion, heartache because those are the emotions that make us feel alive. I read to don the heroine’s vestige, to see what depths of surrealism can be imagined. And when it’s done well, when the writer becomes much more than a mere Creator God of a wholly new world, I continue to read, as I have with Kim Harrison’s work.

I’ve followed Harrison’s Hollows series through nine action-packed, tear jerking, and imaginatively exhaustive books. I started reading about her protagonist, Rachel Morgan, because I wanted to see what antics the white witch would get up to. I continued to read because Harrison made Rachel real.

During the series, Rachel has discovered the secrets of her childhood, has mourned the loss of a lover, has been betrayed, nearly killed (on multiple occasions), and has emerged from each adventure a bit wiser, a bit more cynical. Still, she maintains the heart of who she is: not just a white witch placed in difficult situations, but also a fighter who never backs down.

In Pale Demon, the ninth book in the Hollows series, Rachel is forced into a road trip with Trent Kalamack, the elf she loves to hate and finds impossible to ignore. Through the series, Kalamack has manipulated his way into Rachel’s life, first as a nemesis then as her unwilling familiar. In Pale Demon, he convinces Rachel he’ll be able to get the shunning she received for performing black magic by the witch’s coven removed if she agrees to get him to the West coast so that he can complete a secretive Elven quest.

Blacklisted from all other manner of travel, Rachel has no choice but to take Trent up on his request. With assassins tailing them, Rachel, Trent and her partners Jenks the pixy and Ivy the “living vampire” make the trek from Cincinnati to San Francisco while fighting their attackers, barely surviving eleven magic and running from a century’s old demon who has formed an obsession with Rachel.

Getting to their destination, as the old cliché goes, isn’t the point. In Pale Demon, it’s the journey that matters; it’s what makes Rachel embrace her heritage and the notion that moving forward doesn’t always mean saying goodbye.

With this chapter in the Hollows series, Rachel isn’t the only character shifting focus and altering realities. Trent, the paradigm of a glossy public figure hiding darker, ulterior motives, changes before our eyes. We, right along with Rachel, find the elf’s layers being stripped away and what is left endears him to us, forces us to see him differently as his agendas are revealed.

But it is the revelations that Rachel discovers about herself that brings surprise and intrigue to the forefront in Pale Demon. She discovers more about herself and her magic, still leaving us at the end with the idea that her new realizations won’t limit her.

Like the other books in the series, Pale Demon’s focus isn’t solely centered on plot, but rather on the family Rachel has constructed for herself. It is these essential relationships that make Rachel fight, that gives her the motivation to move forward and, in a sense, the strength to accept who she truly is.

Harrison imparts authenticity into her books, making the world in which Rachel and her partners live a vivid reality separate from ours only by the absence of magic and the social hierarchies of her many mythical creatures. We don’t see these characters as caricatures of fantasy standards, but rather as people with whom we identify and whose plights we draw into our own sensibilities. We like them. We hate them. We feel like permitted voyeurs into Rachel’s world because Harrison has given us an open invitation to live the adventure right along with her characters.

Pale Demon reflects a journey that Rachel undertakes to discover truths about herself and the people around her. But the road is strewn with more obstacles to overcome, more demons to face. A road that, like Harrison’s readers, I can’t wait to travel further down.

Review: "Fungus of the Heart"

Reading, not Red Bull as the company would have us all believe, gives you wings. It’s a fact that may seem horribly obvious, but for many, reading simply is the method you take to vacate the real world and be transported into something powerfully foreign. If it’s good fiction, our perceptions are twisted and changed.

I expect much from books. I expect to be dazzled. I expect to be wrapped up in a story, in characters I either love or loathe. What I don’t normally expect, is to be overwhelmed and awed by what I read. Sure, there are works that have changed my thinking. There are writers whose talent and ability are so awe-inspiring that I feel somehow pathetic by comparison. But reading a collection about relationships shouldn’t have left me gobsmacked. It shouldn’t have left me thinking for days afterward about how these relationships, in their own unimaginable way, shifted my awareness of what fiction should be.

Fungus of the Heart, a vivid, wildly artistic collection by Jeremy C. Shipp, did just that. I sat down and read, watching through lenses contorted to reveal things I could not imagine. I saw through his eyes and the view was distorted and beautiful. It’s a collection about relationships. Full stop. There is no other way to explain it. Now, these aren’t relationships you’re going to hear about on Oprah or hovering around the coffeemaker at work. These relationships run the gamut from misogynistic men and the females they ‘own’ to sprites who think they are jack-o-lanterns and the creatures of death and violence that love them.

In Shipp’s world, we are introduced to characters full of discord, full of self-loathing and the connections they make and are forced into with the world around them. And those worlds? Disturbing, frightening and absolutely infectious. We are drawn in by the conflicts they face, by the horrible sensibilities of each villain and victim and their ultimate desire to bond, to forgive or simply survive. Shipp creates universes where ghosts act as therapists, where an Oak tree makes her daughter promise to save a world she cannot connect with; where vampires take on many identities, but mainly those of, “boy bands and idol singers.”

Shipp told me that Fungus of the Heart was a map to his values— the respect he has for relationships and the importance of those relationships in his own life. But his characters are beyond flawed. They do their best to disrespect the relationships they have and the result is disastrous. He says his characters, “have emotional, physical, spiritual needs, but are often screwed up in one way or another, and so they don’t know how to get their needs met in a healthy way.”

The beauty in all these flawed characters is the way in which their journeys are chronicled. It isn’t alliteration or some sad attempt of using plot devices that gets these stories across. Shipp’s above that. But he has a inimitable voice and that voice comes alive, is made real with every harrowing misadventure his characters take. In all honesty, I’ve never read anything like this. Not ever, and that’s saying a lot. I read far more than I should. But, I was swept up in every war-ravaged landscape, in each village, in every hut I traveled to in this collection. I cared about these haunting characters, wanted to reach out and connect, wanted, sometimes, to give them a smack across the head. Ultimately, however, I know it was Shipp’s very clever, astonishing voice that drew me in, that made me think, made me keep thinking.

When you read this collection, bear in mind that you’re not in for horror stories or stories drawn in a manner you’ve ever read. You’re in for a something surreal, something beautifully fantastic and I promise you, you won’t be bothered by the battle scars you walk away with. You’ll be grateful, satisfied that you bear those marks, proud that you took the journey right along with these misguided, damaged characters.