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If you have any adventures or characters you’d like to share go right ahead.
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This is another transition chapter between the important events surrounding the Silver Doe and Xenophilius Lovegood’s explanation of the Deathly Hallows in the next two chapters. Hermione is still not speaking to Ron, and Ron is reciprocating this by watching his conduct around her because of his remorse over his actions. Ron however is excited to come back and has an interesting conversation with Harry. [click to continue…]
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Dr. Linus, tell me what’s wrong
You’re enchained by your own sorrow
In your eyes there is no hope for tomorrow
You were always sure of yourself
Now I’ve seen you’ve broken a feather
–Chiquitita by Abba
Ah, how the mighty have fallen. Ben Linus, former ruthless Leader of the Others, has broken more than a feather; Big Bird has been plucked and is digging his own grave.
In the Sideways story, we’re thrown to a scent with S/Ben Linus, PhD, resplendent in tacky sweater vests and a Napoleonic hairstyle, teaching that Napoleon would have been better off dead than stripped of his power. Yet Dr. Linus is a kind man who runs a history club and longs for better priorities in his school. After gazing at himself in the mirror of his microwave door, he patiently listens while his old man Roger moans about their brief Island Dharma Days and how Ben missed his potential (how I hate to see you like this). Ben just stuffs his dad with organic Big Bird, er, turkey, and fills his lungs with oxygen instead of poison. [click to continue…]
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Here’s something to get your blood pressure up this morning. Toby Young, a freelance writer, gives a series of bare assertions about how sad it is that literature as “second-rate” as Harry Potter has been so successful:
But on the other hand, there’s something depressingly second-rate about the Harry Potter franchise. The books are a bland amalgam of more interesting work by more imaginative authors. The plots are feeble and episodic. And what little interest the characters and stories contain has long ago been eradicated by endless repetition.
Of all Britain’s celebrated children’s authors, JK Rowling is among the least deserving of this honour. Off the top of my head, I can think of half a dozen better candidates — Beatrix Potter, AA Milne, Kenneth Grahame, CS Lewis, Richmal Crompton and Roald Dahl. A hundred years from now, children will still be reading those authors and Harry Potter will be a distant memory.
This is the kind of article that tells us more about its author than the author about whome he is writing. How embarrassing would it be for him and the other condescending commenters there to learn that Potter is being studied as serious literature at over 40 college and university campuses, including many of the Ivy League schools? This man doesn’t know the first thing about these books or about what constitutes great literature.
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