Book Reviews
Harry Potter and the
Sorcerer’s Stone
by J.K. Rowling
reviewed by Helen Valois, MI
Scholastic, Inc., 1997. A lot of
ink has been spilled on the subject of
a certain young wizard by the name
of Harry Potter. The fictional Brit has
been the title character of a popular
series of novels for a few years now,
and has recently made it big on the
silver screen with a movie based on
the book, Harry Potter and the
Sorcerer’s Stone. Harry as
an entertainment phenomenon parallels Harry as a
character—a lightning rod
for controversy both inside
and outside of his particular literary universe.
“People who object to
Harry Potter are religious
extremists, as dangerous as
members of the Taliban,”
is the gist of an opinion
voiced by several talk
radio hosts after the
movie’s release last November. These
commentators have been joined by
many others bound and determined,
it seems, to make an untouchable
celebrity of the nondescript youth
from a closet on Privet Drive. “The
Harry Potter thing is a vicious,
demented gateway into the occult,”
opine other critics on the character’s
utter decimation and beyond the
reach of any glimmer of decency.
What is the truth about Harry
Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone?
The most realistic assessment lies
somewhere in the middle.
Let us observe in Harry’s
defense that there is not a single
sexually suggestive scene to be found
42
Lay Witness
in the tale of this 11-year-old’s entire
first year at school. For Harry to have
become such a hit in today’s culture
without carrying on a torrid romance
with wizardry classmate Hermione
Granger is no small feat.
We’ll also concede that the story
itself is an engaging one. While
author J.K. Rowling doesn’t actually
create much that is new, she has
certainly organized many traditional
images in an original way. The plot
twist at the end also deserves a nod
for ingenuity.
I take exception, on the other
hand, to the commonplace assertion
that the Potter book exhibits a high
degree of literary merit. If The
Sorcerer’s Stone made The New
York Times best-seller list and won
all the children’s book awards, perhaps it was due to the same factor
that last won the Chicago Cubs the
National League pennant—a lack of
any available competition to speak
of. Take, for one example, the introductory description of Harry’s
friend and Hogwart’s
groundskeeper, Rubeus
Hagrid: “[H]e had
hands the size of trash
can lids, and his feet in
their leather boots were
like baby dolphins,”
Rowling writes (p. 14).
These are just not the
similes of which enduring classics are woven,
nor do great works of
the verbal art generally
feature the plethora of
references to all manner of bodily
excretions on which the Potter
author relies for comic relief. The
Sorcerer’s Stone may be a good
read, but just as in the fable “The
Emperor’s New Clothes,” let’s call a
naked emperor naked and not take it
any further than that.
The movie amply compensates
for many of the book’s technical
shortcomings, a feat nothing short of
spectacular. Professor McGonagall
metamorphosing from cat to human
being, for instance, works better as a
special effect than it does as a literary
device, and there are engaging actors
and actresses to lend flesh and blood
to the cardboard cutouts Rowling
gives us as characters. The quidditch
match, plodding in paragraph form,
becomes on screen an absolute blast,
the likes of which has not been seen
since Leia and Luke chased a few
stormtroopers through the forest
moon of Endor.
The very success of the screen
version of The Sorcerer’s Stone,
however, only gives greater urgency
to the warnings of those who worry
that young and impressionable Potter
fans will be drawn to the real practice
of witchcraft. To the dislocated young
people of our post-Columbine society,
the thought of being transformed (as
Harry is) from a tormented nerd to an
adulated wonder-worker by conjuring
and wand-moving may be irresistible.
Granted, most of the magic depicted
is little more than literary fluff. So
Hermione succeeds in making a
feather levitate—big deal. And there
just isn’t anything that problematic
about the hapless Neville Longbottom
periodically blowing up everything
in sight. Still, the smoldering evil of
Voldemort, his quasi-deathlessness,
and his horrific inhabitation of
another magician’s body, do indeed
verge on images of the demonic.
For the sake of the argument,
though, let’s set aside the issue of the
use of magic in The Sorcerer’s Stone
for the moment—not because it isn’t
important, but because it has been
dealt with extensively elsewhere.
What if Hogwarts was just an ordinary boarding school? There would
still be serious reason for giving the
story of Harry’s first year there a
moral thumbs-down.
If The Sorcerer’s Stone has a
theme, it is: Rules were made to be
broken. This message comes through
not only in the way that Harry and
company break school regulations
and, as many observers have correctly
objected, are virtually rewarded for it.
But also, the plot itself is both driven
and resolved by the protagonist’s
determination to behave without
regard for any objective standards.
The tale’s central authority figure—
Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of
Hogwarts—is not only remiss about
enforcement, he positively encourages Harry in his lawless course of
action (by restoring to the boy his
father’s invisibility cloak and directing
the recipient to “use it well”). And
Dumbledore even counts on Harry
to behave willfully by magically
“programming” the Mirror of
Erised to work on Harry’s behalf in
the climactic encounter with
Voldemort/Quirrell.
This disturbing character of the
Potter worldview is evident, for one
thing, in its fluctuating attitude
toward death. When Lily and James
Potter, Harry’s parents, are mentioned, their vicious murder at the
hands of Voldemort is treated as sober
and irrevocable. On the other hand,
the violent demise of Nearly Headless
Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor, is a permanently joking matter. In the case of
the disembodied, unicorn blooddrinking Voldemort, we can’t tell
whether he is, or ever need be, quite
dead or not, while for Nicholas
Flamel, whose belated retirement
from this life Harry inadvertently
occasions, Dumbledore explains that
death is merely “like going to bed
after a very, very long day” (p. 297).
So, what is it? In Potter terms, one
really can’t say. Death itself, like the
actions taken by the protagonist, can
only be evaluated through the lens of
Harry’s own purposes and emotions.
Similarly, it is hard to pinpoint
the way that Rowling’s subcreation is
supposed to work. The magical and
non-magical worlds both impinge on
Harry Potter but, apart from that, one
can’t say how or why they relate to
one another. The problem isn’t so
much, as some have alleged, that
Rowling mixes a made-up reality
with ordinary British life. C.S. Lewis
did this, after all, quite seamlessly.
The difficulty is really that Rowling
has attempted it without making
any sense.
How exactly do the two realms
interact? Do the Muggles know
about the magical dimension, or do
they not? The bigoted Dursleys
know, even if they don’t want to.
Non-magical folk evidently fail to
perceive the Leaky Cauldron (one of
the entrances to the magical realm),
but surely people would hear Mrs.
Weasley encouraging the boys to go
crashing into the brick wall that
serves as a cover for Platform 9 3/4,
or be astonished at the results of the
operation. And what about the “ordinary” life that Hogwarts students and
graduates sometimes lead? What does
one tell the neighbors about the
extended absence of a child away at
the invisible academy for a semester?
How does a boy get along in the
world of Privet Drive with a
Transylvanian haircut and a name like
“Draca Malfay” anyway? With these
and countless other matters left conveniently unaddressed, a book that features motorcycles simply dropping
from midair has more in common
with the hilarious nonsense penned by
Douglas Adams than it does with the
serious fantasy of Lewis and Tolkien
to which The Sorcerer’s Stone has
often, mistakenly, been likened.
The question of how a fictional
reality exists pales in comparison to
the question of why it does. Rowling
has made it clear that her type of
witch or wizard can go bad, but
leaves us totally in the dark as to
what it means for them to remain
good. What, really, is training at
Hogwarts for? Like so much else
about the Potter universe, the
reader/viewer just can’t say.
The protagonists of meritorious
fiction eventually embrace a cause
that is larger than themselves. Harry
does not, not because he refuses to,
but because he can’t. In his world,
with good, evil, and everything else
as garbled as they are, there isn’t any
principled possibility open to him.
This is all I have to say to those who
hold that Harry himself is a hero. If
Harry is a hero, so is the most
mediocre human being among us. For
which of us, discovering that he possesses wondrous powers and apparent
invincibility, would not thwart his
enemies, aid his friends, and spite
those that are spiteful to him, as the
lonely-orphan-turned-celebrity
does—that, and nothing more?
Eustace leaves Narnia transformed. Harry leaves Hogwarts ready
to be as petty toward his odious
cousin Dudley as Dudley is to him.
Amidst the subjectivist quagmire in
which his creator has situated him,
Harry has no choice but to become the
measure of all things. This is not the
sort of heroism the Columbine culture
needs to see modeled, magically or
otherwise. Neither should we overlook Rowling’s consistent inversion of
evil imagery for good, for example,
her cerberus-like monster who goes
by the name of “Fluffy” and the
hulking Hagrid, who turns out to be
but a genial bumbler.
So, should Christians expose
themselves to the Potter craze? At the
risk of being redundant, I give the
only answer that applies to so many
aspects of Rowling’s work at large:
“Well, yes and no.” On the one hand,
Harry’s story just isn’t as overtly
satanic as some have made it out to
be. On the other, nobody is going to
be culturally impoverished because of
missing out on it. If you and possibly
your older children (certainly not the
younger ones) want to get involved in
it and are able to separate the positive
imagery from the negative, Harry
Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone could
be a source of acceptable entertainment. It could even serve as a springboard for serious discussion, touching
on the philosophical matters mentioned above. But I can sympathize
with those who believe that sorting
through the Potter story just isn’t
worth the intellectual and spiritual
risks. For my part I am sad that Harry
Potter’s world is so problematic,
because in contrast to so much else
offered as entertainment out there, it
is, at least, commendably fun.
The Quest: Maximizing
Health and Wellness
Through Spiritual Healing
by Ralph Ferraro
reviewed by Michael D. Hull
The Italian-American Press,
2000. Wracked with doubt but anxious to please his wife, anti-Catholic
Louis Olivari went to the famous
shrine at Lourdes in southwestern
France. Suffering from paralysis,
Olivari waded into the water
renowned for its curative properties. He was expecting nothing, but
his devoted wife had been praying
for a healing.
Deep in thought, Olivari heard
someone nearby call out to him. It
continued...
March/April 2002
43
was a blind 10-year-old boy making
his fifth pilgrimage to the grotto
where the Blessed Mother had
appeared in 1858 to a simple peasant
girl, Bernadette Soubirous. Touched
by the sight of the disabled little boy,
Olivari prayed for him to be cured.
Then the man felt weak and fainted.
When Olivari regained consciousness
later, he noticed movement in his
hitherto lifeless legs. His paralysis
was gone!
But the boy remained blind, in
spite of his fervent prayers and the
faith that had led him to Lourdes for
five straight years. Olivari had prayed
for the boy and not for himself. His
prayers yielded no result, whereas his
wife’s prayers for him had been
miraculously answered.
When prayers go unanswered,
God has something other in mind for
us than what we asked for, difficult as
this reconciliation may be. So says
Ralph Ferraro, a Massachusetts
educator and associate of the Sisters
of Providence, in his book, The
Quest: Maximizing Health and
Wellness Through Spiritual Healing.
A small book that packs great
power, it examines the research and
findings relevant to spiritual healing,
and advocates prayer, visualization,
and meditation for achieving maximum health. Written
with sensitivity, perception, and a devotion that reflects the
author’s deep faith, this
book is a crystal-clear
guide to the limitless
scope of prayer and
“the full potential of
God’s healing energy
manifested through
the Spirit.” It is sure to enlighten all
who read and reread it.
The prayers of others are often
the most effective for us, as with
Louis Olivari at Lourdes, says
Ferraro. Even saints have benefited
from the prayers of others. He cites
the case of St. Paul, blinded for three
days on the road to Damascus, who
was cured through the prayers of a
stranger, Ananias.
Our quest to encounter God may
be a long or short one, says the
author, but there is no easy path and
44
Lay Witness
no guarantees. We will have to
understand that in order to experience Him, we must look inward.
And this is a task requiring time,
effort, and discipline.
But, says Ferraro, our efforts
and God’s grace will guide us
toward our destination, where “a
wondrous gift” will “enrich our lives
and provide us with new vistas of
promise and hope for the enrichment of the human condition.”
Catholics will find this little book
a brightly polished gem of both intellectual and spiritual enlightenment.
The Rapture Trap
by Paul Thigpen
reviewed by Helen M. Valois, MI
Ascension
Press,
2001. You’ve seen the
bumper sticker: “In case of
rapture, this car will be
unmanned.” You’ve heard
of the Left Behind series,
popularizing in fictional
form the notion that true
believers are soon to be
whisked out of the world
without warning, in anticipation of Christ’s traumatic
Second Coming. Now, get
the real story about people
being plucked
inexplicably from planes,
trains, and automobiles.
Read Paul Thigpen’s new
book, The Rapture Trap.
Thigpen is an accomplished author and editor
who converted from evangelical Protestantism in
1993. With insight, documentation, and telling
arguments, he makes a convincing
case that the rapture doctrine is “misguided and alien to both Sacred
Scripture and Sacred Tradition” (p.
20). His presentation is scholarly, yet
readable for those with less training.
At first glance, one is struck by
the fact that so little of The Rapture
Trap has to do with the rapture itself.
Thigpen’s analysis of the rapture
doesn’t formally begin until chapter
five. Even then, only two pages (124
and 125) deal with the “one will be
taken, one will be left” Scripture
passage (Mt. 24:37-41) upon which
the objectionable interpretation is
most clearly—and erroneously—
based. There is, however, a good
reason that much of the book seems
to focus on other things. To make
sense—or, nonsense—out of the
rapture notion, it must be juxtaposed against the entirety of the
Christian understanding of salvation
history. Only then can it be exposed
as the dangerous anomaly it is. To
tackle his subject adequately,
Thigpen is obliged to lead us into the
“tangled thicket of fundamentalist
‘Bible prophecy teaching’” (p. 31),
of which the rapture is a part. By
presenting authentic theological
and magisterial teachings, he then
very creditably leads us back out
again as well.
Thigpen’s first major
objection to the rapture
is that it is a novel
teaching. The idea in its
current formulation is
not foreshadowed in
the whole of Christian
theology, save for a few
relatively recent renegade movements which
came to tragic ends
(pp. 156-59). “Neither
ancient Christians, nor
medieval Christians,
nor even the founders of the major
Protestant movements ever heard of
the secret rapture doctrine” (p. 130).
Rapture advocates typically insist that
their viewpoint is based on straightforward teachings in the Bible. If so,
The Rapture Trap argues, why
haven’t exegetes come up with this
interpretation all along? The splintering of “Bible Alone” Protestantism
into countless competing denominations points to the logical and
theological bankruptcy that results
from scriptural interpretation severed
from magisterial guidance. Such an
approach, Thigpen points out, is even
more fruitless where the fantastic
style of apocalyptic literature is
concerned. “The ‘plain sense’ of a red
dragon with seven heads and ten
horns is just not very plain at all,” he
says (p. 186).
Second, the rapture presents a
faulty view of temporal suffering by
promising believers they will be
happily sidelined before the final
tribulation occurs. Wouldn’t that be
nice! But in view of the Crucifixion
and 2,000 years of Christian interaction with the bloody ravages of the
secular world, this divine strategy is
more than highly unlikely. “The Left
Behind series” in its implicit
escapism, Thigpen asserts, “assumes
a worldview that is seriously limited,
displaying the cramped horizons of
all too many comfortable, suburban,
middle-class Americans” (p. 34).
Finally, The Rapture Trap points
out that the prophecy of millions of
people being mysteriously removed
from daily life is “often tied to a
larger, complex body of religious
teachings that are explicitly antiCatholic” (p. 35). In Left Behind’s
speculation about how the world
will end, for example, the antichrist
is alleged to have strong Vatican ties.
In rapture lore generally, Catholics
are usually found among the hapless
dupes wondering ominously why
these sudden disappearances are
taking place. This scenario,
amounting to a kind of spiritual
threat, can become a powerful tool
for scaring the unwary right out of
the Catholic Church.
While The Rapture Trap gives
a solid, sweeping analysis of its
subject matter, it does leave the
reader with some unaddressed concerns. For example, having raised
the issue of a sort of Catholic “end
times fever” in which spurious
Marian prophecy figures largely, the
question of Mary’s real role arises.
The difference between public and
private revelation (pp. 216-18) and
ways to tell the difference between
sound messages and unsound ones
(pp. 229-35) are clearly addressed,
but the Assumption is not.
What, if anything, does the
Assumption have to do with the
notion of a rapture? Mary, the very
truest of true believers, was assumed
body and soul (“caught up in the air”)
to be with Jesus, possibly without
encountering the “final tribulation” of
death itself. The dogma of the
Assumption, naturally, does not give
any credence to the fundamentalist
beliefs that Thigpen so ably debunks,
and it would surely be amusing to
find a Left Behind devotee invoking it
by way of proof. Still, Thigpen could
have tackled directly the issue of
whether the Assumption points to a
grain of truth behind the rapture or
whether its relationship to the rest of
Catholic belief about the end of the
world can be explained in some
other way.
In the meantime, The Rapture
Trap has landed a serious blow for
sanity amidst the entire “end times”
debate. Anyone who has brushed up
against the subject at all would do
well to read Thigpen’s commendable
contribution. With the Left Behind
series being promoted even in places
like K-Mart, that would be just about
all of us.
The last two books featured in
this review section may be ordered by
calling Benedictus Books toll-free at
(888) 316-2640. CUF members
receive a 10% discount.
Thomas Aquinas College
Why Read the Great Books?
FILM
March/April 2002
45