Harry Potter and the Sorceror’s Stone, by J.K. Rowling

I’ve been reading this to David at bedtime over the last month or so, and
we finally finished. David’s familiar with the story, having seen the
movie any number of times, though there were still a few surprises.

There’s no point in my reviewing this book in the usual way, as pretty
much everyone has already formed an opinion about it. I do have a couple
of comments.

The first is, the book reads aloud tolerably well. It’s not outstanding
as a read-aloud–the prose doesn’t flow trippingly and effortlessly from
the tongue–but it flows pretty well, nevertheless, with only the
occasional clunky bit. I’ve read books that are much, much harder to
read aloud. (Some of them, ironically, are intended for kids who are
learning to read. There’s something wrong with that.)

But there’s something I noticed this time around. (This is a spoiler,
for anyone who doesn’t know how it ends. Uh huh.)

Dumbledore has hidden the Sorceror’s Stone using the Mirror of Erised in
such a way that only someone who wants the Stone but does not want to use
can get it. Thus, Quirrel/Voldemort sees himself using the stone, but cannot
get it. Harry, on the other hand, has no problem.

So…that means that the Stone would have been perfectly safe if Harry
had simply left well enough alone and gone to bed instead of braving
Fluffy and the other horrors in an attempt to save it from Voldemort’s
hands. Dumbledore was already on his way back to Hogwarts at the time
Harry faced down Quirrel; if Harry hadn’t been there, Dumbledore likely
would have caught Quirrel in the act and would have dealt with
Voldemort, perhaps permanently.

In fact, Harry’s presence made it more likely, rather than less,
that Voldemort would succeed.

I’ll grant you that getting past all of the obstacles took great courage
and skill. Not everyone at Hogwarts could have done it. But just how
was it anything but colossally stupid?

Woo-Hoo!

Deb English just pointed out to me that we’ve gotten a mention over at 2 Blowhards. Michael Blowhard said, and I quote:

I also love reading View from the Foothills, Will and Jane Duquette’s blog, which day after day demonstrates that sunny spirits and brains don’t have to be strangers.

Which is quite frankly one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever received.

I’d like to return the favor by commending 2 Blowhards to you, if you’re not familiar with them already. (Hah! As though that’s likely.) Michael and Friedrich have wide and varied interests, and even though I don’t share all of them I always find something interesting every day or so that I wouldn’t have seen otherwise.

They simply have the most friendly, least snobbish, most encompassing culture blog I’ve yet run across. And the amazing thing is, that extends to their comments section as well. Despite the name, there’s an amazing humility to the Blowhards–they really want to know what we think.

It’s not home, but it’s a wonderful place to visit.

Sweetness and Joy

The Los Angeles Times Calendar section had an article today about the current exhibits at the Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA). The most interesting, apparently, was this little guy:

Charlie

“Charlie”‘s a remote-controlled little boy robot on a tricycle, and he rolls around the museum’s galleries and sneaks up behind people. The Times describes him as “spreading sweet joy”. He was commissioned by MOCA.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that this is amusing, but it’s also a little creepy. I begin to have a suspicion that neither the folks who run MOCA nor the people the who visit MOCA are used to having real little kids underfoot–and have no idea how much real sweet joy a real kid can be.

Hot Water, by P.G. Wodehouse

This is yet another Wodehouse whose acquaintance I’d not yet had the
pleasure of making. It is, of course, a complete hoot. It’s a variation
of the Wodehouse staple
“imposter at the country house” theme, but in this book he takes it
higher, wider, and more plentiful than I believe I’ve ever seen him do
before. Almost everybody in the book is somebody else; at one point, I
think there are three or four distinct but overlapping sets of people,
all of whom know about three or four distinct sets of imposters. I’m not
sure I counted that quite right, mind you; it’s all rather dizzying.

Anyway, you should read it.

Why Thank You–I Mean, Huh?

I just got a little postcard in the mail, congratulating me on…well, judge for yourself:


Mr. Duquette,


Congratulations! Our records show that 2004 is the important 10th Anniversary of William H. Duquette. Don’t miss this valuable opportunity to benefit from your 10th Anniversary this coming year.

On the other side, it says,

The 4 most powerful words you can say about William H. Duquette are “Ten Years of Experience.”

May I be the first to congratulate you on the upcoming 10th Anniversary of William H. Duquette in 2004. It’s an accomplishment you should be very proud of–but it’s more than that. Your company’s 10 years of experience is exactly what people look for when they’re deciding whether to do business with you or not. That’s why it’s important for you to announce your success with the elegance and style of embossed foil Anniversary Seals like the sample shown below.

That’s right, they want to sell me some stickers for the 10th Anniversary of ME!

Just for the record, this website has been around for just five-and-a-half years, since the last few days of 1996.

As for me personally, let’s just say that in a few days these fine folks will be off by a factor of four.

A Game of Thrones, by George R.R. Martin

This is a novel of things going from bad to very, very much worse. It’s
a novel of politics, and battles and intrigue, of honor and dishonor, of
heroes and of truly nasty people. It’s an epic fantasy, and it makes
David Farland’s The Runelords look like a cheap
comic book.

To tell the truth, I don’t entirely like this book; reading it is rather
like watching a car crash in slow motion. I knew that before I started,
though, as this was my third time through it. Why did I read it again,
if I dislike it so much? Because it’s the first book in a series, and I
want to see how the story ends. Because the writing is clear, the
plotting is detailed, complex, and flawless, the conception is vast but
not sketchy, and the characters are well-drawn and fascinating. I
dislike it not because the writing is bad, for it is not, nor because I
dislike that characters, for I do not, nor because it is a bad story,
because it is not, but simply because awful things happen to characters I
like, and it’s clear that things are going to continue to get worse
before they get better.

I should add that the pain isn’t gratuitous. Some authors (notably
Katherine Kurtz in her later books) seem to take a sadistic
pleasure in denying their characters happy endings. Horrible things
happen simply because they can. Nothing ever goes right; everything
always goes wrong, in the worst possible way. Here, all the troubles–the divisions, the
intrigues, the betrayals, the deaths–make sense and follow logically
from the backstory. It’s a bad situation; I didn’t feel like Martin was
making them worse than he had too.

The political set up is complex. Three hundred years before the tale
begins, the land in which it takes place was divided into seven kingdoms.
Then came Aegon Tragaryen and his men from across the sea. Aegon was
called the “dragonknight”, and with good reason; he brought with him
three large, ferocious, and fire-breathing dragons. There was some kind
of unique bond between the Tragaryen line and the dragons, for the
dragons would do Aegon’s bidding. After a fair amount of fighting, Aegon
was crowned King over all of the seven kingdoms.

Aegon’s line ruled for almost three-hundred years. The dragons and their
young were held in honor, but at last, some hundred years before the
story begins, the last dragon died. The Tragaryen line wasn’t doing well
either, for all of this time the kings had been marrying their sisters to
keep the royal blood pure. The last Tragaryen king, Aerys II, was a
bloodthirsty madman, and half the realm rose against him.

The rebels were led by Robert Baratheon, and his foster-brother Eddard
Stark, heir to Winterfell. In past times, before the coming of the
Tragaryens, Winterfell had been the seat of the Kings of the North, and
Eddard was the heir of that line. The rebels were victorious, Aerys II
was killed, and Robert Baratheon took the throne. Robert had been
engaged to Eddard Stark’s sister Lyanna, but Lyanna had been raped by the
son of King Aerys; this was casus belli. Lyanna died of her wounds. The
King must needs marry, and he married Cersei Lannister, daughter of Lord
Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock. Like Eddard Stark, Tywin was the heir
of one of the original seven kingdoms. The Lannisters had played it cool
during the civil war, coming to the support of Robert Baratheon only when
it was clear that he was going to win; indeed, there were signs that
Tywin’s son Jaime Lannister would have taken the throne for himself if
things had gone just a little differently. Instead, Robert settled in to
reign in King’s Landing in the south, and Eddard Stark returned to
Winterfell in the north.

Fifteen years have passed, and the realm is (though none realize it)
deeply troubled. Robert is an impatient man, and a bad king. He prefers
tournaments and boar hunts to ruling, and the Lannisters have taken
advantage of this to take over as many of the royal offices as they can.

So the situation stands when Robert comes north to ask Eddard to be his
Hand, that is, his chancellor, the one who speaks with the king’s
voice. Eddard agrees only because the previous Hand, his foster-father
Jon Lord of Arryn, was likely murdered by the Lannisters. He goes to
find out what happened, and to bring the murderer to justice.

That’s the short version of the back story. It’s the characters who keep
me reading:

First, there’s Eddard Stark himself. He’s an honorable man, a skillful
commander, a wise ruler, but he is lord of a rural domain far from the
intrigues of the capitol. He is insufficiently sneaky for the task that
is thrust upon him.

Eddard’s oldest son Robb is but fifteen years of age, and much like his
father. He must rule over Winterfell in his father’s absence, and rise up
to the challenges that will seek him out.

Eddard’s older daughter Sansa is a perfect lady, a romantic, and a fool.
Fools learn from experience, and she gets plenty. Will she learn from it?

Eddard’s younger daughter Arya is a tomboy, and well acquainted with all
of the folk of her father’s castle, high and low. She’s tough,
courageous, and no fool, and it’s a darned good thing.

Eddard’s son Bran is injured in a fall, and loses the use of his legs.
My suspicion is that he’ll turn out to be the bravest of all the Starks.

Eddard also has a bastard son named Jon Snow, who is about the same age
as Robb. Jon was raised with the others, but cannot inherit. No one
knows who his mother is; Eddard stifles all rumors with anger and
finality. As the realm begins to crumble, Jon is sent north to join the
Brothers of the Night’s Watch at the Wall of ice that separates the lands
of men from the frozen north. And it becomes clear long before the end
of the book that battles over the throne are mere squabbles, and that
the real conflict will be here at the Wall. Here, and only here,
is there any hint so far of supernatural evil.

Tyrion Lannister is the second son of Tywin of Casterly Rock. Further,
he’s a foul-mouthed, cynical, sarcastic dwarf. He’s also become my
favorite character in the whole book. He’s not a nice guy (he’s a
Lannister, after all) but his choices are limited. Unlike his father, he
is capable of kindness, if of a piercing, sarcastic variety. He’s smart,
and capable of taking care of hiimself. He’s good at making the best of
a bad lot. My suspicion is that he’s going to be the next Lord of
Casterly Rock, and that the Starks are going to have to make peace with
him if anyone is going to survive in the long run.

And then there are the two jokers in the deck. Stannis Baratheon is King
Robert’s younger brother. Throughout this book he is notable in his
absence; he hovers, never present, but looming dimly just over the
horizon. And there is Daenerys Tragaryen, daughter of Mad King Aerys,
who barely escaped death at the hands of Robert and his men and has been
living a wandering, threadbare life with her brother Viserys in a land
over the seas from her father’s realm. Will the dragons fly again?

This should say something about the book–it’s taken me pages just to
give the smallest idea of what it’s about. There are, at present, two
sequels, one of which I’ve read previously, and one of which I haven’t;
I’ll be getting to this over the next few weeks.

But not immediately.

Death of a Peer, by Ngaio Marsh

If I were going to give this review a title it would be “Eating Crow and
Liking It!” I have previously given a Ngaio Marsh mystery a pretty tepid
review and was gently chided by Will. Since I have been reading Will’s
reviews for a couple years and comparing notes on the books we both have
read, I have found him normally spot on when it comes to matching my taste.
There’s been a few glitches. I’m not too keen on the Aubrey/Maturin series
and some of the sci-fi I don’t find terribly compelling but mysteries he’s
pretty good at hitting right on the note. Now do I just quietly agree to
disagree or do I go back and give Marsh another shot, perhaps finding a
prolific writer I enjoy and then having to fess up? I’m not particularly
proud. I can fess up.

I liked this one!

From what I can tell, Death of a Peer follows Marsh’s general
technique of creating a cast of eccentric characters, tossing a murder in
their midst and then bringing in Inspector Alleyn to figure who did what and
when. There is always a reference or two or three to New Zealand and this
one also had references to Mac Beth as well. It’s almost as if she’s
writing prose plays using a cast and one or two sets where most of the
action takes place.

This novel concerns the Lamphreys, a family of gaily kooky aristocrats who
are constantly short of money and never bothered by it. They have invited a
young friend from New Zealand to spend a few weeks with them in their London
flat. Business has gone bad for the father of the family, the money is
running out and he asks his brother, the heir to the family wealth and a
distinctly unlovable man, for a loan to tide them over. The brother comes and
after a heated argument, leaves, only to be found in the lift with a meat
skewer thru his eyeball. His wife is hysterical and also dabbling at
witchcraft, the servants are fiercly loyal to their master and mistress and
no one saw or heard anything. Inspector Alleyn must sort out who did what
when, who saw what when and how many others besides the father of the family
had motive to kill the icky old man.

What’s interesting is that she gives you the whole scenario. You see all the
action played out and then you get to watch Alleyn and his sidekick, Fox,
replay it finding the important clues along the way ruling out suspects,
finding multiple folks with motives and ultimately making the correct
decision on who did it.

So, crow pie for me tonight after a first course of hasty pudding.
Mmmm…..tastes good, too.