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In re:  Richard H. Jones:  Time Travel and Harry Potter

January 7, 2010 in Reviews

I am pleased and a bit flattered to receive and to read Richard H. Jones’ book, Time Travel and Harry Potter:  Time-Turning in the Prisoner of Azkaban and its Place in Time-Travel Fiction.  For one thing, Jones argues rather strenuously for a version of replacement theory, rejecting both the fixed time and the divergent dimension theories advocated by many physicists.  For another, it happens that he cites Temporal Anomalies in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, naming this author both in the bibliography and in the text.  I received a copy of the book because of my contribution in making that available to him, and my promise to review it was incidental.

Jones is to be commended for the scope of his coverage.  He admits that prior to reading the third book of the Harry Potter series he knew neither the physics nor the philosophy of time travel and had no interest in the subject, yet his work introduces many of the prominent names in both fields.  He attacks the determinism of fixed time theorists and the absurdity of infinitely diverging dimensions.  He recognizes the critical element in the Azkaban problem, which is how Harry manages to survive the dementor attack so as to be able to travel back and save himself from it.  Further, he provides a plausible solution to this problem.  Overall, it is a commendable book.

However, I hesitate to recommend it.

The work meanders to a significant degree.  Having dealt with a particular aspect of the problem, he returns to it later to give much the same arguments again, leaving the reader with the feeling that that has already been covered.  It clearly has been forged from the debates arising on fan forums and web sites, where Potter fans attempt to explain time travel based on “how time really works” (something of which I might be accused, but that my notion of how time really works is consistent with Jones’).  Thus the feeling that he is repeating himself may arise from the fact that in such forums one usually does.  Yet in saying what it already said–mostly that the “Potterverse” has a malleable history–it fails to say what we most want to know.

What he covers inadequately is his own explanation for how the problem is resolved, what he calls the Patronus Paradox.  He provides a solution for Harry’s survival, suggesting that Dumbledore saw the dementors on the grounds, drove them away, and then made a secret trip with Harry back one hour, explained the situation, and had Harry cast the patronus that saved his counterpart; then Dumbledore obliviated Harry’s memory, put him to sleep, and dropped him back in the hospital wing to awaken in time to make the trip with Hermione.  What Jones fails to explain is why Dumbledore follows this elaborate plan–taking the evident risk that Harry might not save himself–after having himself resolved the problem.  Certainly if I consider it long enough I can devise possible explanations, what matters is that Jones does not offer one, supposing that the fact that it could have happened this way makes it unnecessary to justify it doing so.  However, it is not an impossible scenario, and for my part I had decided (without thorough examination) that the book’s version was not resolvable.  His solution works; he fails in making it credible.

Jones also at times fails to grasp, or at least to convey a full grasp of, the nuances of the concepts and authors he is discussing.  At one point he says that there is no “grandfather paradox” in Potter because Rowling created the world such that such a paradox could not exist.  However, a “grandfather paradox” is a description of a temporal problem in which a future effect has a past cause which undoes the future effect.  One might as well say that addition does not exist in a particular fictional universe because the author never says it does–there will still be circumstances in which objects are combined with objects to create a greater number of objects, even if the author never calls it addition and the characters never consider the matter.  The book does include such paradoxes in the comment that some time travelers have killed their alternate selves.  What matters is how such problems are resolved, not whether they exist.  Jones proposes a (somewhat dubious and awkward) solution not found in the text, but does not realize that he is attempting to resolve a paradox he has already claimed does not exist.

He has much the same problem with block universe theory, failing to understand that for adherents of this theory the experience of history is akin to constructing a tile mosaic:  the order in which the pieces are placed is not relevant, only whether in the finished product they provide the complete picture.  I fully support his objections to that conception of time, and I agree that the story told in Azkaban does not fit it, but at least I understand it.  His arguments on this lack cogency because they fail to recognize the nature of the position.

It appears, too, that he misunderstands my own discussion of the film version, saying that I claim four “previous trips” akin to his own proposed previous trip by Dumbledore.  My proposal is, rather, that the one trip that is made by Hermione changes history from an original through two intermediate variant forms (in which Harry joins her at the end of the first altered history to participate in the remaining ones) to a final version shown in the film.  There are no erased and forgotten trips, merely erased and forgotten histories arising from the changes which impact the one trip.  His guesses about what would happen if someone failed to make a trip in the second history he already made in the first also seem to miss the complexities of the problem; his theory of time is not coherent.  This is the more unfortunate, because those incoherencies are mostly about peripheral matters–Hermoine’s self-duplication for classes during the school year, the casual mention that some time travelers have killed their alternate selves–which can be resolved otherwise.  (For example, if the Ministry of Magic is aware before the moment of departure that a time traveler killed his former self, it would be reasonably plausible to nest a second trip within the first which prevents the incident, provided that such trip also inform the Ministry of the necessity of making that trip.)  it is sloppy around the periphery, giving poor answers to the minor questions which spoil its interesting idea for the major ones, and failing to give adequate support for the solution it proposes to the major problem.

There are the usual number of typos for a first edition paperback, and the one image (a chart reminiscent of my own turned ninety degrees) might have been of better quality, but the book was an easy read and easy on the eyes.  I enjoyed it, mostly from the fact that I agreed with so much of it.

Not Repeating Myself, I Hope

January 4, 2010 in Blogs

I’ve posted yet another Examiner temporal anomalies article, this one, Butterfly Effect part 9:  time and time again, dealing with the problem created when Evan returns to a moment in his past to which he had returned on a previous trip.

In other news, it has wandered into my mind that I might write a review of a popular board game which I played for the first time New Years Eve.  Also, I’ve received a copy of a book about time travel in the Harry Potter books–the author apparently referred to my article on the movie version of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and wanted to thank me for making it available to him, and I in turn said that if he made good his threat to send me a free book I would retaliate by writing and posting a review.  So things are stacking up a bit.

Before they stack any higher, permit me to turn my attention elsewhere.

–M. J. Young

Kudos Captured

January 18, 2008 in Blogs

Today’s mail included the notification that someone had posted to my blog–the other blog, the Harry Potter blog connected to my MySpace (which is here, if–in fact, whether or not–anyone cares). She read my predictions, and posted to the final entry, Spoiler Scorecard, to congratulate me on my predictions.

I attempted to post a reply comment, but the system wouldn’t take my comment in reply, so I messaged her instead to thank her. Apparently she found me through the Temporal Anomalies site, I presume because of the Prisoner of Azkaban analysis and not as part of the recent inrush of Terminator fans inspired by The Sarah Conner Chronicles.

Did I mention that last night’s Collision rehearsal went really well? We got through the first three songs decently (not fabulously), and then took the fourth from “nobody knows nothing” to playing it beginning to end with minimal problems, in less than an hour. I was pleased.

I’ll be even more pleased if I can get some sleep tonight and make it to church this weekend, so let me stop dawdling here and move ahead.

–M. J. Young

In Re:  Evil Star

November 1, 2007 in Reviews

I was handed a reviewer copy of this book, Evil Star by Alexander Horowitz; it is billed as the second book in The Gatekeepers series. The first, Raven’s Gate, escaped my notice despite being on the New York Times’ Best Seller list at some point. (That has more to do with my inattention to such lists than with any lack of merit in the book.) It is entirely accidental that I received this book. It was tossed in the bag with my copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, because the bookstore was celebrating the release of the book and looking for things they had around that they could give away. The person who gave me this book had no idea that I was a reviewer (he did know I was an author, and had read my novel), and no expectation that I should review it. However, I read it, and since it was a pre-release “early reader edition” copy I thought I would write a review.

I am sorely tempted to call this series, “Harry Potter Meets Cthulu”. The connections seem to scream at me.

The hero of the series, Matthew Freeman who prefers to be called Matt, is in this book fourteen years old; that makes him a bit older than Harry was in his second book (he had just turned twelve). It is not clear to me, however, how old Matt was in the beginning of the first book. Like Harry, Matt is an orphan, although it seems his parents really did die in a car accident and not until he was eight. That tale is told, apparently, in the first book. Like Harry, Matt has powers he does not understand and cannot always control; he was aware of the car accident before it occurred, and he sometimes has similar premonitions here. He also sometimes causes telekinetic events, but through severe emotional upset, not intention. He is even described as thin with unkempt dark hair and blue eyes.

The similarities to Harry don’t end there, though. We are told that there are seven gates, and apparently each book revolves around the effort to keep the next one closed. first grade math says that means there will be seven books in this series, just as there were in the Potter books. Matt is the hero, the focus of the stories; his friends, young and old, help him, but in the critical moments he is the one on the line.

In fairness to Horowitz, at least some of these are the tropes of the genre: fantasy books for adolescents have adolescent heroes. Cry of the Icemark was similar in some ways. Matt does not have a group of adolescent friends; he has the friendship of a young adult reporter, and the support of a secret international organization, but he is completely estranged from his peers. No one is helping him learn to use his powers. He is not exactly unique; there is much in the book about “the five”, of which he is the first to be identified, and he dreams about the other four trying to reach him. Still, in this book one of the others does reach him, recognizing him from his own dreams. He, too, has powers he does not understand, but they are very different powers.

As to Cthulu, he is never mentioned; however, the series revolves around a set of gates through which the “Old Ones” threaten to return to bring darkness to the word, and this book focuses on an ancient newly discovered book which tells how to open one of those gates. A wealthy reclusive businessman is the evil monster attempting to get the book and open the gate.

I did not feel that Matt was as familiar a character as Harry. It was a weakness of the book that I had trouble identifying with its hero. Harry stayed with family members who did not like him, but Matt had an insane former foster mother trying to kill him. Harry was alone at school but for a couple of friends, but Matt was alone on the streets of the Peruvian slums with a boy with whom he shared no common language. Harry meets creatures of fantasy and learns to control his power through the mentoring of those more experienced than he, while Matt meets Incan survivors and struggles to work through his own use of his powers. Where Harry’s powers made us feel that he was special, Matt’s powers make us feel that he is different; we want to be like Harry, but not like Matt. Even the fact that Harry goes to school in what seems a very ordinary way (despite it being a school for wizards) gives us a point of contact; Matt is behind in his education, because his life is constantly interrupted and he has to move to another school. It just never felt like Matt was a sympathetic character.

On the other hand, the author takes us on quite an adventure. Matt is the reluctant hero here; he wants to be a normal boy, but he’s not normal, and fate will not leave him alone. In his new school he is the outcast, and the fact that he pulls the fire alarm before the explosion that would have killed almost everyone only makes him less accepted. The Nexus, the organization that is fighting this battle, wants and perhaps needs his help, but he is trying to avoid getting involved–and yet gets pulled half way around the world and into the midst of the trouble as events unfold. It is not always clear who are the villains and who the allies, and more than once he flees from those who would have helped him. Scores, maybe hundreds, of people are trying to help him, but at the critical moment he stands alone but for the other, younger, boy.

The book is laced with some wonderful images, many of them descriptions of Peru from its ancient wonders to its modern slums. If there is a fault here, it lies in the interlacing of fantasy elements–a hidden Incan city, secret passages in those preserved wonders known only to the surviving Incans–with the hard facts. Even I am not certain where the facts ended and the fantasies began at times. That is only a fault because of the wonderfully clear portrayals of the realities of Peru, the author’s skill at bringing us into that place, and because (being published by Scholastic) it is targeted at a teen or pre-teen audience who will benefit greatly from the look at that society, if they can sort out the reality from the rest.

The copy I have has a number of errors in it which caught my eye as an editor, which may also have caught the eye of Scholastic’s editors before the finished version went to press. Most of these are minor typos, a wrong but similar word here or there. The mistake which most bothered me involved a description of the actions of a minor character, a truck driver on his way to be beaten and robbed. Before the incident we are told that he is thinking about asking a certain waitress at a certain truck stop out on a date; after the incident we are told that his wife was contacted and gave them important information. I prefer to think that the author overlooked part of what he was doing, rather than that he perceives married truck drivers commonly asking women out on dates; I hope, at least, that this was a mistake, and that it was corrected before the final copy.

I am tempted to attempt to obtain a copy of the first book. After all, it is often the case that one book in a series is weaker than the others, and this might be the weaker book. It is not a bad idea for a series; the Lovecraftian horror concepts are present but not terrifyingly so (although I’m probably not the best judge of that–Lovecraft has never frightened me). There is madness, there is betrayal, there are evil people working toward evil ends. Matt does not always emerge victorious, does not always make the best decisions, and is not always eager to do what he must do. However, he proves the hero through his efforts, and moves an epic story forward a significant chapter. I wouldn’t expect this to be the stuff of a best seller, but then, such things are determined by factors other than how they appeal to fifty-something author-reviewers.

Opinion Vindicated

October 22, 2007 in Blogs

Many of you will by now have seen the news that J. K. Rowling has stated her heroic and much-revered character Dumbledore is “gay”. Already I have been asked about this, and I will be giving my answer here in a moment. What interests me more is her revelation, more quietly reported, that the entire Harry Potter series is, and has always been, a Christian story. Rowling kept this “secret” close to her breast while dealing each book, as she feared giving it away too soon would lead readers to guess the end before they reached it. This pleases me. I’m not the only person to have noticed the Christian influences in the Harry Potter series, and I’m certainly not the most vocal of those defending it, but I have taken a stand in defense of the stories as part of my unofficial position as defender of Christian fantasy in the modern world. Having her say what I have been saying is rewarding.

On the other report, over on MySpace, a mysterious friend through a friend who often asks me odd questions, Dr. Jack Centipede, asked me my opinion of the report. My comment there was truncated–apparently I failed to keep to some unstated word limit imposed by MySpace–so I am going to copy what was saved and attempt to complete it here.

I don’t want to say that an author is wrong about her own character, so what I’ll say instead is, I don’t see it.

There is something of a pernicious error which grew in the twentieth century, which holds that two men who care about each other and who bond with each other are therefore homosexuals. C. S. Lewis complained about this, saying (I think in The Four Loves) that when you have these close friendships, that “philos” “brotherly love”, someone will say that of course they are “really” homosexual–and that what you feel is pity for the one who says this, because it suggests that he has never known real friendship. It is quite possible for men to care about each other without being homosexual, but in our age every effort is made to characterize such relationships as homosexual, because those in homosexual relationships want to be able to claim that their relationships are “normal”.

I see nothing in Dumbledore’s relationship with Grindenwald that indicates it more than a very close friendship, the kind of friendship I have had rarely in my life. Dumbledore is not gay, but caring and sensitive and eager to know people and to forge relationships with them. It is not the same thing.

Let me make two more points on this, briefly.

First, if Dumbledore is gay, then any man who has ever felt a close connection, a bond of sincere friendship and mutual interest, with any other man, is also gay. I think–indeed, I would hope–that that would be all men everywhere. By this definition, then, every man is gay; and if that is so, then the category is meaningless, and no man is.

Second, it is significant in my mind that the same is not said about women. We assume that women forge these dear and close friendships with other women, and that this says nothing about their sexuality. It is only when men forge such relationships that this becomes “homosexual” or “gay”.

This puts men in a lose-lose situation. On the one hand, we are accused of being cold, uncaring, unemotional, self-centered and self-interested, failing to bond with others, failing to share our true feelings. On the other hand, should we venture to warm, care, emote, reach out to and bond with others, and share our true feelings, we are suddenly branded as “gay”. You can’t have it both ways. Either it is quite normal for people–men and women–to have caring relationships with each other, or it is always abnormal for anyone–man or woman–to care about a member of the same sex.

Thus I think Rowling has fallen into the trap of assuming that her character Dumbledore must have been gay because he cared deeply for and about another man. I care deeply for and about my father, my uncles, my cousins, my brothers, and my sons; that does not make me gay–nor does it make me gay if I also care deeply about friends who happen to be guys. What’s a guy to do, anyway? After all, if I, as a married man, care deeply about other men, I am labeled “gay”; but if I care deeply about other women, I am labeled “lecherous”. The only kind of man we will accept as manly is the one who doesn’t care for anyone but himself, and that’s not the kind of man we need in this life.

From there I commented on the Christian connections of the book, including the above news link, but since I’ve already done that here I won’t repeat it.

There are a dozen things I am supposed to be doing right now, I suppose, but rather than attempt to list them here, I’m going to attempt to do them, and maybe tell you about them tomorrow. The gout persists, flaring up overnight, but calming a bit as I work; I wonder to what degree the constriction of my feet within my shoes is reducing the pain.

–M. J. Young