Thoughts on "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows"

contains spoilers. contains spoilers. contains spoilers. contains spoilers.

I finally finished "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," pushing through the last third of the book in a marathon session that started around midnight and kept me up until 5 AM.

"Hallows" is ultimately a thrilling and satisfying read. Although Rowling's weaknesses are as present as ever, including her sometimes clunky language (as when one character experiences grief "like a physical wound") and tendency to pile on one plot convolution too many (the circuitous logic of the "Elder Wand," like Crouch's Polyjuice impersonation of Mad-Eye and Hermione's time-turner before it, is an unnecessary strain on credibility), so are her strengths as an inventive world-builder and emotionally-wrenching storyteller. Most importantly, Rowling delivers on every promise she's ever made and answers every question she's posed over the course of her seven-book series, from the crucial (ie, What is the source of the connection between Harry and Voldemort? What motivates the morally ambiguous Snape?) to the more marginal (was anyone else as happy as I was to finally have explained the oft-referenced historical tensions between goblins and Wizards, or the secret Dumbledore had on Petunia Dursley?) Along the way, she packs in many reference points to past adventures, staisfying hardcore fans while simultaneously reminding readers how deeply earned a climax this is. In contrast to the lackluster "Half-Blood Prince," the stakes start high and only intensify. I've been reading a great deal of fiction this summer, including some heavy/classic lit, and this is the only thing to draw actual tears, leaving me shaking and huddled in the corner. There's something to be said for that.

At the same time...

I have questions about the text's thematic resonance. Its ultimate message has something to do with self-sacrifice and the true meaning of courage and heroism. Which is all well and good, but also a little bit simple and moralistic.

There's a darkness and a moral complexity that's always swirled around the margins, and sometimes the forefront, of Rowling's texts, keeping me riveted but also leaving me wanting more.

Here, Rowling introduces the powerful symbolism of Harry and Voldemort's fates intertwined; Harry discovers a portion of Voldemort's soul lives within him, then discovers that he cannot die while Voldemort lives, as his own blood runs through Voldemort's veins. This is a notion of good and evil as interdependent -- neither can exist without the other -- that is philosophically resonant.

Too bad, then, that Rowling dilutes this symbolism with the perhaps more comforting but less truthful assertion that good may indeed exist in the absence of evil, so long as we kick evil's ass. And all the better if good comes in the form of that most trusted harbinger that happy days are here again -- the heterosexual family.

The politics of Rowling's texts have always been impressively complex. She shows that Voldemorts are created as much through collective complacency and complicity as they are through their own initiative. Here, we see how the Death Eaters' rise to power is accomplished through the strategic and methodical management of fear and deeply-imbeded ideologies of Wizard supremacy. In Dolores Umbridge, Rowling has written one of the most chillingly accurate representations of the political animals that manage our world and of the banal evil that traipses through our governments, churches and schools with a bright-pink bow in its hair and a broad smile spread across its face.

One of my favorite Harry Potter moments comes shortly after Harry's first encounter with Voldemort at the conclusion of "The Goblet of Fire," when Dumbledore underscores the need to atone for Wizards' injustices toward other magical creatures in order to effectively counteract Voldemort, then sends out his agents to begin building coalitions. In "Hallows's" final battle, some of the most thrilling moments come from supporting players, as Molly Weasley kicks some LeStrange ass, Neville decapitates Nagini, thestrals and a hippogriff help Thrawp fight malevolent giants, the centaurs enter the fray and Kreacher commands an army of house elves. All of which leaves me all the more disappointed with Rowling's contention that Potter-like, Christ-like (is it any surprise that Harry's patronus is a stag, often used to represent Jesus?) martyrs and figure-heads are necessary to galvanize collective action. I look forward to reaching a point as a culture (cultures) where we truly DON'T need another hero to believe that there's hope.

So here's how I wish it had gone:

Harry defeats Voldemort, but discovers that it is not possible to destroy the piece of Voldemort's soul that lives inside himself. In the final frame, the Voldemort in Harry challenges us to recognize our own will to power. Voldemorts can be overthrown, but the conditions that create Voldemorts remain in place. How many of us live our lives as the Dolores Umbridges, Percy Weasleys and Aberforth Dumbledores of the world, pledging our allegiance to the status quo or "looking out for number one"? Harry's journey is at its core a "coming of age" story. For me, this means acknowledging that our struggles with evil are ultimately lifelong.