An Ode to Hermoine

Oh man. I saw Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows last night, which means I'm still a little hyped up from the sweet deliciousness of dropping into J.K. Rowling's alternate universe for an evening. (Even better, I came home and discovered the Harry Potter wiki, leading to an embarrassing amount of time spent reading about the various character's connections. Draco marries Daphne Greengrass's sister? Who knew?)

But the highlight of the movie for me was watching Hermoine Granger's evolution. Smart, resourceful, courageous -- she's clearly the star of this film. And, in particular, it's hard not to contrast her with another popular teenager character: Bella in Twilight.

Earlier this week, I posted this article on my Facebook, which discusses some of the differences between the women in Harry Potter and Twilight. The author's pre-teen daughter offers the following explanation of the differences between Potter and Twilight fans:

There are 'Potter' people, and there are people who like Stephenie Meyer's 'Twilight' series -- and very little overlap exists between the two groups. 'Twilight' fans imagine their teenage selves being fought over by men, she says; 'Potter' fans want to fight for good alongside the men. My daughter knows which type of young woman she wants to be.

Now, don't get me wrong: I enjoyed the Twilight series. But I thought that passage captured the key distinction between the female protagonists in the series and explains why Harry Potter captured my attention in a way that Twilight never will.

Both are teenagers transplanted into new worlds (Hogwarts, Washington). Both face issues of complicated teenage emotions: navigating feeling like ''the other'' in new environments, raging hormones, parents who just don't understand. Both face imminent dangers to their lives.

But I think the notable difference is how they react to these challenges. When Ron chooses Lavender Brown for the object of his affection, Hermoine is upset -- but she moves on with her life (even while studiously ignoring him). When Edward leaves Bella, she falls apart, sinking into depression and self-destructive behavior.

And when faced with threats to their lives, they each take different paths: Bella spends a large part of the series allowing Edward and Jacob to handle the evil vampires (until, of course, Edward can impart his own superhuman powers to Bella). Hermoine? She's not waiting around for the boys to fix things; years of diligent academic pursuits have made her a force to be reckoned with, one who can decipher ancient runes, tell off the Minister of Magic for his violation of Magical Laws, and conjure potions beyond most wizards' ordinary capabilities. Clearly, she's no wallflower waiting to be rescued.

Stephanie Meyer has defended her portrayal of Bella after critics lambasted the series for being anti-feminist, explaining that feminism is about choice and Bella needs to make the choices that are right for her. While I'm not going to argue about whether Twilight is anti-feminist or not, I do think that there's an important distinction in how each character approaches presented hardships.

And, for that, give me plucky, feisty Hermoine over sullen, woe-is-me Bella any day.

On Love

I've admittedly been a little down on romance lately: not because of any one thing in particular, but the culmination of watching relationships around me disintegrate (and, perhaps, watching Eat, Pray, Love last night with unnamed, and occasionally weepy, friends.)

That said, while I'm not generally prone to thoughts of spiritual messages from the universe, it seemed particularly fortuitous that I stumbled across the following passage from The Prophet while at the British Museum gift shop yesterday:

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you,
So shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth,
So is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Desiderata

"And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should."

(It's a little cheesy, but the full text can be found here.)

On Chesil Beach

There is nothing I can say about On Chesil Beach that hasn't already been said: it's heart-wrenching, elegiac, stunning. And while the novella is about the unravelling of a couple, this exchange between newlyweds Edward and Florence makes my heart melt a little:

He kissed her and told her she was the squarest person in all of Western civilization.
      "But you love me," she said.
"Therefore I love you."

Further Tales of the City

About five hundred people were cheering hysterically while a statuesque man in nurse drag - boobies, bouffant, the works - thrashed about violently on the back of a mechanical bull. In other words, thought Mary Ann, just another Memorial Day.

A battered Volvo pulled alongside the Le Car. "What the fuck is this?" asked a frizzy-haired woman with an infant child and a back seat full of No Nukes posters.

'The Great Tricycle Race," said Mary Ann. She had learned that much from Michael.

"What's that?" asked the woman.

"Uh, well... gay guys on tricycles. It's a benefit for the SPCA."

The woman beamed. "Wonderful!" she shouted, as the cars began to move again. "How goddamn wonderful!"

Curiously enough, Mary Ann knew exactly what she meant. How could anyone feel threatened by this kind of whimsy?

Hippies and Mass Murderers!

From the opening pages of Tales of the City, where the protagonist calls her mother to tell her that she's moving to San Francisco:

"You aren't listening, Mom. I'm trying to tell you I'm a grown woman."

"Well, act like it, then! You can't just... run away from your family and friends to go live with a bunch of hippies and mass murderers!"

How We Choose

This is a long one. Inspired by citations in Blink, I decided to pick up Sheena Iyengar's The Art of Choosing. Dr. Iyengar's book explores different facets of how we make decisions, such as cognitive biases and the effect of priming. Although I thought it was a little tedious at times, for the most part, it provided several interesting studies on how humans react to a lack -- or abundance -- of choice. (I don't think I'm ever going to be able to walk into a supermarket without thinking about her famous jam study.)


What I found most interesting, though, was her examination on how a person's cultural background influences his or her decision-making processes. She begins by distinguishing between individualist and collectivist societies, and reading her two definitions made me reflect how each society has shaped my own decision making process.


"From early on, members of individualist societies are taught the special importance of personal choice. Even a walk through the local grocery store becomes an opportunity to teach lessons about choosing, particularly in the United States, where stores routinely offer hundreds of options. As soon as children can talk, or perhaps as soon as they can accurately point, they are asked, "Which one of these would you like?" A parent would probably narrow down the number of choices and explain the differences between this cereal and that one, or that toy and this one, but the child would be encouraged to express a preference. After a while, the child would graduate to making tougher choices, and by the ripe old age of four, he may well be expected to both understand and respond to the daunting question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" From this children learn that they should be able to figure out what they like and dislike, what will make them happy and what won't. Because their happiness is on the line, their own opinions truly matter, and they must figure out how to judge the outcomes of their choices.


By contrast, members of collectivist societies place greater emphasis on duty. Children are often told, "If you're a good child, you'll do what your parents tell you," and the parents need not explain themselves. From what you eat to what you wear, the toys you play with to what you study, it is what you're supposed to do that's most important. As you grow older, instead of being asked what you want, you may be asked, "How will you take care of your parents' needs and wants? How will you make them proud?" The assumption is that your parents, and elders in general, will show you the right way to live your life so that you will be protected from making a costly mistake. There are "right" choices and "wrong" ones, and by following your elders, you will learn to choose correctly, even relinquishing choice when appropriate."