Alice in Wonderland on opening day.  Oh, well, here it is anyway.

Alice in Wonderland brings together three of my favorite creative people: Lewis Carroll, Tim Burton, and Johnny Depp, so I was understandably excited about this movie.  So much so, in fact, that I went to see it on opening night, which is something I rarely do because of the crowds and smelly teenagers (both of which were in force Friday night).  Until I can see the movie again on DVD, I can’t really write a full review, but here are my quick thoughts on the movie having just seen it last night.

First, the design, music and performances were great.  It is true (but no surprise) that Johnny Depp’s Hatter steals the shows; in fact, that’s generally true of any adaptation of Carroll’s books.  I have been involved in two productions of play adaptations of the books (my wife and I directed one together, and I later directed it on my own), and in each the Tea Party was my favorite scene.  Hatter, with the March Hare and Dormouse, is just such a crazy character that toning it down would, I think, miss the point.  While some people have criticized the amount of screen time Depp gets, I have no problem with it.

Second, I love that this movie recognizes that some of us are big Lewis Carroll nerds.  There are in-jokes throughout that only someone who’s actually read the books (rather than just seeing the film adaptations) would get.  For example, in the opening scenes, Alice has to dance a quadrille with her potential fiance, a nod to the Lobster Quadrille in the books.

Finally, the movie is not entirely even.  I feel like things move a little too quickly once Alice gets to Wonderland; I think there should have been a few more things happening before the Red Queen is introduced.  Also, the whole dance the Mad Hatter does was, to my mind, entirely useless.  Yes, I understand that this sort of nonsense (in the bad way) is meant to appeal to children, but I think it breaks the feeling of the film, especially the modern dance music.  This sort of thing should be put out on some separate DVD that’s used to gouge parents rather than thrust upon us in the theater.

So, overall I enjoyed it very much and will get it on DVD.  I think it works nicely as a modern companion to Carroll’s original works.

This quote made me laugh, so I thought I’d share it.  A note of context: Reppert used this quote to demonstrate the idea of fideism, which states that “religious beliefs are not open to rational evaluation.” (Reppert, p. 29)  I’ll leave it to you to determine how you think this is funny.

Second, I got volume 1 of The Walking Dead by Robert Kirkman and Tony Moore.  I had heard about this book for years but had never picked it up (as with Scott Pilgrim as well).  I felt that the beginning was too much like 28 Days Later in why the main character, Rick (a small town police officer), doesn’t know what’s going on (he was shot on duty and in a coma for a month), but overall I enjoyed it.  There were a couple of times when reading it, however, that I had to double check the pages to make sure I hadn’t missed something; at times, there is a slight jump in time, but there’s no obvious indication of it.  Other than those two quibbles, it was good, and the art style helps to capture the creepiness of a world overrun with zombies.

Third, I finally bought Night by Elie Wiesel.  I’ve wanted to read this book for a while, and I found it in the used the section.  I’m considering teaching it in my Reading class, given its shorter length.

Fourth, I got C.S. Lewis’s Dangerous Idea: In Support of the Argument from Reason by Victor Reppert.  The book is an examination of Lewis’s argument that the existence of rational thought proves the existence of the supernatural (an idea Lewis explored in Mircales).  It was fortuitous that I found this book at this time, as I was listening to a podcast in which the hosts briefly discussed recent scientific developments in brain research that suggest that there is no free will (something atheists have been claiming for years).  This “discovery” (if it’s held up) basically proves Lewis’s argument: in a “naturalist” system (in which nothing exists but nature), there cannot be true rational thought (because everything is cause and effect); thus, reason is a supernatural miracle.

Let me know if you’ve read any of them.  I may post fully reviews as I finish reading these books.

When I heard that Coraline was going to be made into a feature film, I was very excited, and I enjoyed seeing the first trailer for it in the theater. I was, to be sure, annoyed that Gaiman’s name was not giving top or second billing in that trailer; in fact, he wasn’t even mentioned. Instead, the chief name was that of Henry Sellick.

If the name Henry Sellick is not familiar to you, that’s primarily because one of his best works is usually ascribed to Tim Burton: The Nightmare Before Christmas. While Burton was involved in the creation and production, much of the work, including the direction, was done by Sellick. That film is a perfect example of what I mentioned above: a clever, quirky children’s story that appeals to adults as well, and giving the tone of Nightmare, Selllick was a good choice for the creator and director of Coraline as a film.

However, after having finally watched it, I have to admit that I am, to a certain extent, disappointed.

And, I kinda feel bad about that.

See, I think Coraline is, independent of the source material, a good film. Henry Sellick makes fine, living, colorful worlds with interesting characters. I enjoyed the performances of all the voice actors: Teri Hatcher is great as the mother and other mother, John Hodgman’s father is, although not British (a small quibble I won’t mention again) spot on, and Keith David’s cat is appropriately smug. Dakota Fanning’s Coraline fits very well, and the others are great.  The film is also beautiful to look at. I haven’t researched how they achieved all of the animation effects, but there’s a wonderful dichotomy between what looks like computer animation and real world textures. Everything has a depth to it, and it’s wonderful to look at. There are scenes that are obviously meant to appeal to those watching the 3D version, but these work appropriately in 2D, and I didn’t feel pulled out of the film because of them.

Given how well everything works, it remains to find a reason for my disappointment. A part of it definitely comes from plot and character differences between the movie and the book, and this is one of those conundrums that fans of any book often find themselves in when it’s adapted to a movie. We want the movie to be exactly like the book, but we understand it cannot be. However, although we understand that it cannot be, we still (however slightly) resent the movie for not being the book. Admittedly, it’s not fair at all, but it’s just the way it is. No matter how much I try, I cannot approach this movie as someone who hasn’t read the book.  So take the following criticisms with a grain (or even a shaker) of salt.

First, I felt the character of Wybie to be completely unnecessary. That’s not to say I don’t understand why Sellick wrote him in (which I suppose to be to give boys a character to identify with and to give Coraline someone her own age to interact with), but I think it was not needed. What he did do was to take screen time away from Coraline’s interactions with the other characters, and I think this was a mistake. Wybie’s presence necessitates that some really great moments (especially between Coraline and the cat) had to be left out for time’s sake, which is, I think, always a problem.

Second, I didn’t care for the reordering of parts of the plot, specifically the number of times Coraline goes to and from the other world. Sellick adds one extra to-and-fro, and I feel this alters the dramatic tension. I think this might be one instance where the 3D imposed itself on the story; perhaps Sellick added one more journey to utilize the tunnel between worlds for the 3D version. Also, Coraline gets locked up with the ghost children earlier here, whereas in the book her parents are already missing and she has gone back to retrieve them. The separation of these events (her going back to get her parents and meeting the ghost children) weakens the story from a dramatic and thematic perspective.

My last criticism is really the reason that I think I was disappointed by Sellick’s Coraline. Although parts of the movie maintain some of the tone of the book, overall the book has a darker tone; the other world is not quite as happy, and there is more of a sense of danger even from the beginning. I suppose some people (perhaps Sellick himself) felt that making the other world lighter made it more appealing to Coraline, but I think this misses a key point of Coraline’s character. She is bored with the real world and craves something more interesting, even if it’s a little dangerous. And this is, for me, a completely believable character trait in a kid. For example, in the movie, Coraline is lured to the door in the drawing room by Mr. Bobo’s jumping mice. Certainly, this makes sense; the jumping mice are very cute. But in the book, Coraline is drawn to the door by hearing it creak open and by seeing a small dark shadow flit out from her room and into the drawing room. While this is much more creepy than Sellick’s version, the fact that Coraline is interested in the shadow and the creaking door fits with her character, and I think it makes her a more interesting and stronger character than just some girl chasing something cute.

Interestingly enough, there is one change in the movie that I think works. I like the way the other mother was portrayed as more like Coraline’s real mother. The reason I think this works is that this accentuates the weirdness of her button eyes, and in this way she comes across more disturbing than if the eyes were just one of many differences.

Given all of that, I did enjoy Sellick’s Coraline. It was fun to watch and continues the tradition of children’s entertainment that adults can enjoy as well.

UPDATE: Having watched the film again, I wanted to comment that I definitely appreciate it more the second time.  I think watching Coraline the first time worked out any disappointments/expectations that I had going in.  Now that all that’s worked out, I can enjoy the film on its own merits.

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman: Gaiman is one of my favorite writers, and this was highly recommended to me by my mom and younger brother.  It’s basically Gaiman’s version of The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling.  Although I got this one primarily for pleasure, I’m seriously considering using it in one of my English classes this year (maybe in both).  On a related note, Gaiman wrote an introduction to a collection of Kipling’s fantasy and horror short stories.  I don’t remember the title, but it was at our local Barnes & Noble.

A Lesson Before Dying by Ernest J. Gaines: This was suggested to me by a colleague as a potential book for English II Pre AP.  I’ve read the first chapter, and I can tell already that it will be a hard but compelling read.  I’m almost certainly going to teach it this year.  In a weird coincidence, my wife Jen is going to be reading a play version of it for one of her classes this semester.

The Writer’s Journey by Christopher Vogler: This is an analysis of Joseph Campbell’s comparative mythology for writers.  Not only is it useful for me as a writer, but the “hero’s journey” is actually on our TEKS for English II.

That’s it for now.  I’ll be posting some more about what I read as the year progresses.

I was introduced to this series by one of my aunts, but I’ve been reading my mom’s copies.  Let me say first that even after I finish the series, I fully intend to purchase the whole series myself.  I try to read a lot of young adult (YA) fiction because I’m an English teacher, and let me first say that I think this series is excellent for middle and high schoolers.  Like Riordan’s characters, his writing style is action oriented, moving quickly through the story.  His prose is straightforward and not overly descriptive (which is a good thing).  He gives you just enough description to jump-start your imagination without spelling everything out; this is excellent for teenage readers, as many of my students suffer from a lack of imagination.

When I first started reading The Lighting Thief, I immediately began comparing Riordan’s world with American Gods by Neil Gaiman.  The two share a similar concept: as people move, their gods move with them.  Riordan’s mythology, however, is much more focused.  In American Gods, the gods of the old world moved with the immigrants to America: Slavic, Norse, African, Indian, etc.  Riordan, however, sticks with Greek mythology, and instead of moving with individual immigrants, the gods move with Western Civilization (Greece being considered the foundation of it).  For both authors this presented an interesting challenge: incorporating the old gods into current society.  Riordan does an excellent job with this, and as with his descriptions, leaves some of it up to the readers.  For example, he never fully explains where the Lotus Casino comes from, giving those familiar with Greek mythology a little treat and those not-as-familiar something to find themselves.

From a character perspective, Riordan keeps his adolescents fully adolescent: like all teenagers, they are between childhood and adulthood, capable on the one hand of adult reasoning in some situations, and falling back into childish behavior in others.  The boy-girl relationships are particularly annoying in a realistic way.  I keep wanting to scream at the characters to just talk with each other openly, but like many males (myself included), Percy Jackson is often completely oblivious to the feelings of the girls around.  Despite the teenagery-ness of it all (and that’s not a criticism), I’m interested in finding out how the current love-quadrangle plays out, given the fleeting nature of most adolescent “love” relationships.  The gods are continually annoying in their lack of maturity, but as with the teenagers this is realistic, given how they were often portrayed in the mythology: capricious, easily insulted, and filled with self-importance (much like teenagers).

There are probably a couple of points that will annoy Greek mythology purists.  The biggest thing at the moment is the mixup of Kronos/Cronus with Chronos (they weren’t actually the same), but if one really wants to get picky, Riordan’s left himself a loophole (based in the history of mythology) to explain it away: the Greeks themselves weren’t sticklers for continuity and often had contradictory stories about their gods.

In the end I highly recommend this series to all readers middle-school and above.  I can’t speak for younger readers, primarily because I have very little experience with elementary-school children, but I imagine these books would be good a more mature fourth or fifth-grader as well (parental discretion should always be in force, of course).

August 5, 2007
Review – A Princess of Mars
Filed under: Literature, SciFi/Fantasy — duane @ 7:26 am

Edgar Rice Burroughs is better known outside of scifi and fantasy circles as the creator of Tarzan, but like many writers during the pulp era, he wrote in several different genres. In scifi, his principle contribution has been Barsoom novels, which contributed to a genre of pulp fiction known as “sword and planet” stories. While these type of stories are often called science fiction, they have more in common with fantasy; what little science they contain is very fuzzy and is basically magic in scientific trappings.

Science, however, is not the focus of Barsoom novels. They are pure adventure, set in a Mars that is as fantastical as Middle Earth. Just as Middle Earth is a fantasy version of ancient Europe, so Barsoom is a fantasy version of Mars. That’s not a problem, however, if you approach the novels appropriately. If you’re expecting Kim Stanley Robinson, you will be disappointed. But if you want to experience a fast moving adventure story, then The Martian Tales Trilogy will not disappoint.

This particular volume that I’m reviewing contains the first three of Burrough’s Barsoom novels: A Princess of Mars (serialized in 1912 and published as a novel in 1917), The Gods of Mars (1913/1918), and The Warlord of Mars (1913-14/1919). It was published by Barnes & Noble, and runs about $9.95. This is perfect, because given how fast these novels read, I could move on to the next right after.

All three novels focus on John Carter and are told from his perspective. Burrough’s sets the first two novels up with introductions, explaining how he obtained the manuscripts from his Uncle Jack, as John Carter is known by his earthly family, and then begin with the first-person narration of Carter.

Burrough’s Carter is basically a demi-god of sorts. He is ageless, always appearing about 30 years of age, and while he claims Virginia as his home (where he is claimed as family by the Carter family), he has no memory of his childhood. A Princess of Mars begins after the American Civil War. Carter and a friend have gone to Arizona to make their fortune in gold. Carter’s friend ends up killed by Apaches, and Carter himself barely escapes into a cave. While in the cave, Carter is struck by paralysis, while the pursuing Apaches are scared away by some unknown fear. Carter, struggling to move, ends up out of his body (which remains in the cave). He goes outside, and focusing on the planet Mars, finds himself transported almost instantly through space to arrive on the Mars.
Carter’s advent on Mars, as well as his (lack of) backstory, begin to set up the fantastical elements of the novel. No explanation is ever really attempted (the cave may have had some mystical element, but this is unclear), and it’s not really the point anyway; the point is to get Carter to Mars as easily as possible.

Once upon Mars, called Barsoom by the native peoples, Carter almost immediately encounters his first Martians, the green men, who are ten-feet tall with four arms and tusks. It is here that Carter discovers that because of the lesser gravity of Mars, he is able to perform superhuman leaps and has superhuman strength. These abilities work to his advantage with the green men, and he is able to win a certain position among them; although he is a prisoner, his actions against two of the greens elevates him to the position of chieftain among this green-man tribe, the Tharks.

Carter’s time with the green men results in the formation of several important relationships that influence the rest of the novels. First, his feats of strength gain him the respect of Tars Tarkus, a powerful chieftain of the Tharks. He also comes into contact with Dejah Thoris, the incomparably beautiful princess of Helium. The people of Helium are more like Carter, but their skin is a light copper, and Burroughs refers to them as the red men of Mars. Carter is pretty much smitten with Dejah from the first, and his relationship with her becomes his primary motivation through the rest of the novels. Another relationship that Carter establishes while with the Tharks is that with Woola. Woola is a calot, basically a ten-legged creature with a large, frog-like mouth that contains three rows of teeth; the calot takes the place of the dog on Barsoom.

During this part of the novel, several of Carter’s character traits are revealed. Burroughs manages to avoid making Carter a totally perfect (and therefore boring) character. Although Carter is noble, he has devoted so much of his time to the warrior profession that he lacks an understanding of women. This lack of understanding threatens his burgeoning relationship with Dejah a few times, and it is only through conversation with Sola, a green woman who was charged with Carter’s care. We also see Carter’s more caring side with animals, especially with Whoola, whom he wins the undying affection of through his kind treatment; Carter also manages to tame the wild thoats (like eight-legged, ferocious horses) through kindness. Prior to Carter’s arrival, the Tharks were accustomed to using violence to get the thoats obedience, but Carter demonstrates that through kindness, perfect obedience can be won.

Once the basic relationships are established, the story moves on. Carter must first free Dejah and Sola from the Tharks, whose jeddak (supreme ruler) is consider horrible even by green-men standards, and then from Zodanga, a country of red-men who are rivals to Helium. Zodanga, taking advantage of the Heliumatic Navy’s search for Dejah, attacked Helium and comes close to victory before Carter is able to turn the tide against them. Carter is (naturally) successful, and he and Dejah are married. Carter remains on Barsoom for ten years, and Dejah becomes “pregnant” with their child (the people of Barsoom actually hatch from eggs). All would be wonderful, except that the atmosphere factory that keeps Mars alive stops working. Carter is able to save the day (using knowledge he learned earlier in the novel), but ends up back on Earth after collapsing from lack of air. He then spends the next ten years on Earth before being able to return to Barsoom at the beginning of the next novel, The Gods of Mars.

Like many adventure novels, A Princess of Mars has certain morals or themes that are often touched upon. Carter is an outsider to Barsoomian culture, and as such he doesn’t take for granted their traditions and customs. While among the Tharks, Carter is able to teach them that the softer virtues of love and kindness are not signs of weakness. This is especially true in his training of the thoats, and in his discovery of the relationship between Sola and Tars Tarkas. His extension of friendship to Tars Tarkas also has a profound impact upon the Thark, who realizes that the red men of Helium do not have to be his enemies; this racial theme is continued in even more detail in the next two novels. Carter inspires Tars Tarkas to unite many hordes of the green men, used to fighting amongst themselves, to attack Zodanga and thus save Helium. While this enlightenment only permanently extends to the Tharks (the other green hordes being concerned only with plunder), it is a great achievement, and Tars Tarkas becomes a friend of the red men of Helium.

These virtues that Carter preaches are not just words, however. Carter is primarily a man of action, and thus his ideals of friendship, nobility, love, and kindness are given strength because of his actions. It is by what he does that people come to believe that he says. I think that may be one of the strongest themes of A Princess of Mars, as well as the other two books: show what you believe by what you do. The moralizing may be a bit heavy handed at times, but given the rollicking good adventure story, that can be forgiven.
All in all, A Princess of Mars may not hold up well today as science fiction, but it continues to be a good fantasy-adventure story, so long as you don’t take it, or yourself, too seriously.

I’ll continue this review of The Martian Trilogy with Part II: The Gods of Mars, and Part III: The Warlord of Mars.

First, some people suggest that the film is too gory, that it relies to heavily on the visual of scenes like the death of Duncan.  This criticism comes, like many of the other criticisms I’ll consider, from those that prefer the play as a play.  On the stage, gore is hard to pull off, and seldom is it the point of the play.  We can see this in the ancient Greek tragedies as well: the murders, suicides, and other gory scenes always happen off stage, with a messenger or someone else coming in to tell the audience what has happened.  The reason for this was primarily that the Greeks consider showing such things to be immoral.

In making the transition from stage to screen, however, the visual element in plays becomes increasingly important, and the gory nature of what Macbeth and Lady Macbeth do during the play is part of that.  For the most part, Polanski is not adding anything to the play that isn’t there in word or implication.  When looked at from a current context, 28 years after the film debuted, much of the gore seems quaint, but even so, I find the more disturbing elements of the film are still those that are not that bloody; for example, the hanging of the traitors (which is also the first time we see Macbeth).

Second, the voice-overs in the film are sometimes seen as being either 1) a perversion of the classic aside or soliloquy or 2) evidence that the actors, specifically Jon Finsh and Francesca Annisi, were incapable of delivering them in camera.  I think this criticism misses, again, the point that Polanski adapted Macbeth from a play to a movie.  While I personally like seeing actors perform soliloquies (ala Mel Gibson in Hamlet), they do work here for one main reason: Polanski pulls them off as the characters thoughts, interspersed with spoken dialogue, just like a real person would.

This use of the voice-overs for the soliloquies really does help to emphasize one of the major differences between movies and plays.  In a movie, the creators are attempting to show a real world (even if its a fantasy world or the imaginings of some crazy person).  This goes back to the earliest days of theatre, when many critics saw film as being the truest representation of real life.  While that may or may not be actually true, the illusion or perception of reality is what matters, and in a movie we have the perception that what we see is supposed to be “real.”  A play does not work that way; there is a distinct difference between “stage life” and “real life.”  We can see the stage, see the set, sometimes even see backstage a little bit.  There is never the potential of thinking that what’s happening on screen could be real.  Aristotle recognized this fact when he called tragedy an “imitation of an action.”

Therefore, when Polanski chose to make the soliloquies as realistic as he could (or as realistic as he thought his audience would accept), that should be perfectly acceptable in adapting the play to the screen.  He is taking the soliloquy, which is part of “stage life,” and adapting it to the “real” world of the movie; he is taking the imitation of action and making it real.

Finally (for now), many people dislike the cuts and rearrangements that were made; part of the objection here is that Polanski had no respect for Shakespeare’s text.  In general I find that these aren’t a problem.  I personally think that it’s more important for the adaptation to stay true to the spirit of the work, rather than the word, and Polanski does this throughout.  For example, immediately after the banquet scene with Banquo’s ghost, Macbeth and Lady Macbeth have a moment alone.  In the text, this all occurs in the banquet hall, but Polanski cuts some of lines and moves them.  In the final version, after Macbeth says, “Come, we’ll to sleep,” Polanski actually shows the couple in bed and has Macbeth continue with the lines cut earlier.  Sure, Polanski has moved the lines (and, of course, cut some), but having the Macbeths in bed, bathed in red light from the sunrise, is interesting cinematically and doesn’t alter the point of the scene.

In the end, I think Polanski’s Macbeth must be judged on how well it holds to the spirit and theme of Shakespeare’s play.  This is all there, and it’s skillfully and artfully done.  There are the occasional false steps (Macduff’s delivery of his lines right after he discovers Duncan’s murder is uneven, for example), but on the whole it is very successful.  It is certainly not the perfect Macbeth adaptation, but I think it is well worth the attention it’s received.

I’ve talked about Harry Potter before, so it should be no secret that I’m a big fan. It’s also no secret that that last book in the series, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, was going to be a good book. We know by now that Rowling is a good writer, that she has created interesting characters, and that the story-line is compelling. And the majority of people already know if they’re interested in Harry Potter or not; while some people may have been waiting for the series to end before reading it, and others may pick it up later, a review of Deathly Hallows is not likely to inspire anyone to read it. I’m therefore just going to make a few comments about it, and save any potential spoilers for a larger article on the series as a whole.

First, Rowling continues to develop her characters throughout the book. One of the things that always impressed me about the books is that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, is remarkable because he’s not perfect. A lot of Christians often objected to Harry Potter because they felt that Harry’s faults would end up encouraging kids to break the rules. I’ve always thought this is a short-sighted viewpoint. His rule-breaking does not come without consequences. Harry and his friends often make mistakes, some which come close to costing them their lives, and some which cost them the lives of friends. But that’s part of what makes him a more real character. The books wouldn’t be as strong as they are if Harry did not have his faults. The inspirational part is that Harry overcomes these to accomplish what he accomplishes.

Second, Rowling paces her book very realistically. Harry’s mission to find the Horcruxes goes anything but smoothly. Because Harry, Ron, and Hermione aren’t perfect, they struggle with indecision, fear, and frustration. They struggle, they argue, they get on each other’s nerves. They’re relationship with each other is realistic, because, as frustrating as it sometimes can be, they act like high-schoolers, rather than little adults.

And even the adults in the story also act realistically, with perhaps a little more wisdom, but still imperfectly. One of the greatest things about this book is what we learn about Dumbledore. Despite his death at the end of book 6, Dumbledore continues to be a major character, and much of the book revolves around his secrets. Harry, Ron, and Hermione continually struggle with the fact that Dumbledore, a keeper of secrets, hasn’t really told them anything. This brings us to one of the central themes of the book: doubt and faith. Harry struggles with as his image of Dumbledore changes. Ron and Hermione struggle as their faith in Harry wavers, and, as we’ve seen throughout the novels, Harry’s faith in himself to accomplish what he must.

Finally, the ending of the book was, for me, extremely satisfactory. While I knew that I would enjoy the book as a whole, the ending was something that I always worried about. After all this build up, would it work? I was very happy with it, and felt that it wrapped things up very well.

I’ll put some more thoughts into a larger article as a whole, when I’ll be free to discuss the details of the plot without worrying about giving things away. If you haven’t read Harry Potter yet, now would definitely be a good time. There’s even an audio version read by Stephen Fry for those of you who prefer audio books. I loved this book, and felt it was a fitting end to the series as a whole.

Feb 25, 2009 – Just as a quick comment on my own remarks as I read through them a year and a half later.  There are some out there who don’t see J.K. Rowling as a good writer (Rym on the Geek Nights podcast has stated so several times), so I wanted to clarify how I approach Rowling as a writer.  I haven’t done any indepth literary analysis of the Harry Potter books, and I won’t have time in the forseeable future.  When I say here that Rowling is a good writer, I’m not trying to place her in any sort of pantheon with Dickens, Hawthorne, Poe, Hemingway or any of the other great writers of English-language literature.  I put her in the category of those writers who are good, in the sense that they are competent and create compelling fiction.  For a lot of us writers, achieving that would be plenty.  If I were to sit down and attempt the literary analysis mentioned above, I’m sure I could tear her works apart.  But that’s hardly the point of them, and I feel that approaching them that way would be disigenuous.  – Duane