Material Witness

50 Books #8 - Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling

Over the years, I've been asked many times whether a particular novel is appropriate for a particular child when the content is potentially scary or adult. Since July 2000, my response to this has been determined by the death of Cedric Diggory and where the book stands in relation to it. Could your child cope with the murder of Diggory or not? If yes, this book is for you... if not... leave it a while.

For me, the death of Diggory is the turning point in the Harry Potter series, the moment at which the books cease to be children's novels. It is the moment at which Harry has full clarity for the first time about exactly what he is dealing with. By the time he returns to Hogwarts the following autumn, he is sullen and moody. Life at Hogwarts is no longer about Quidditch and chocolate frogs but about a battle for survival. And the reader knows that there are no limits to Rowling's ruthlessness with her characters, something that plays out shockingly in the final Battle of Hogwarts. 

 

The Goblet of Fire is not my favourite of the books (that is The Half Blood Prince) but in many ways I think it's the one that best captures the brilliance of the whole series, and its pivotal moment is shocking and brutal. 

It feels calculated and chilling, as if Rowling is shifting gears, and is another mark of her skill as a consummate storyteller, because the timing is just right. 

I am an unashamed lover of the Potter series. Having been put on to it by a great friend at about the time The Prisoner of Azkaban was published I raced through the first three novels and became as impatient as a nine-year-old for each subsequent release. While at the Harrogate Crime Festival in July 2007, I queued at WH Smith at midnight with hundreds of others for The Deathly Hallows. 

Over the years, I've wondered about why I enjoyed them quite so much, and often whether I have been influenced by my time at boarding school, which I loved, and was gripped by nostalgia. And perhaps that has something to do with it. But actually, I think it's really just the exquisite storytelling, the lavish attention to detail in the wizarding world and the heroism and selflessness at the heart of the storyline. 

I love Stephen King's quote about the film: "Harry Potter is all about confronting fears, finding inner strength and doing what is right in the face of adversity." 

Harry, Ron, Hermione and others are heroes you can root for, and Rowling tells the tale with such verve, drama and wit, the whole thing is rarely other than utterly gripping. On long car journeys now, with adult children, the books can be a feature of journeys. And 25 years on from the publication of The Philosopher's Stone, they are still, well, magic.  

 

Stranger Things and the irresistible power of nostalgia

Stranger Things grabbed me by the throat from the first episode of Season One back in 2016. Its combination of homage to the kids' movies of my youth, the effervesence of the writing and the sheer exuberance of the young cast was just wonderful. It didn't hurt that Winona Ryder, with whom I have been in love since Beetlejuice, was there too. 

And while I didn't think seasons two or three quite lived up to the sheer unexpected brilliance of the first, I loved it all, and in particular the character development. (And Robin and Stevie in the ice cream shop outfits). 

 

But Season Four is everything. Writers, cast, designers and cinematographers are all back at their best. Everyone is a little older, of course. The story lines are a lot darker. Eleven is more terrifying and more vulnerable at the same time. Winona is still fire. 

But with all of that there is suddenly huge urgency in the plot. The danger is real and kids are dying horribly and so our heroes need to get the band back together one last time (sob!) to save the world.

And it is magnificent television. During lockdown we bought an absurdly large TV that is way too big for the house because there wasn't anything else to do. Now I know why we have it. The colour, the drama, the emotion and the brilliance fill every last previously unnecessary square inch. We should have gone for the 75 inch and just got rid of the kitchen.

The now famous scene that has relaunched Kate Bush back to the Top of the Pops - when Max is in peril in the upside down - is the most riveting television I have watched in years. Maybe ever. First time round I was out of the seat yelling, "Come on Max!" as if the whole thing was real. I've watched this scene - Stranger Things - many times since.

And here's the secret of Stranger Things. Despite its essential otherworldliness, it feels real. And I've been reflecting on why that is so, why the show is so moving and so compelling (on top of other qualities already mentioned). And I have come to the conclusion that it's because it reminds us what is to be young. 

In Season One, it's because you're suddenly remembering how great ET and The Goonies were the first time you saw them. In Season Four, you remember what it is to be foolish, to be brave, to have a best friend, to fall in love, to have an enemy, to have an adventure. And that's the most addictive of all the drugs. 

I can't wait for Season Five or Season Four.One or whatever the hell they decide to call it. But it also brings the end, and goodness me that will be a sad day. 

If you haven't seen Stranger Things, I envy you. Get started right now.