Reviewing Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
Harry and I go way back – albeit not in the traditional way.
When Harry Potter was first released, I was three years old. I was in first grade when the film adaptation hit theatres, and we all know the cultural phenomenon that the franchise has grown into since then. As a result, I knew a lot about Potter just through osmosis. However, that’s the only way that I gleaned information about the world of wizards and witches. Like many my age, I was not allowed to read the books. There are many Christian families who read and love the Harry Potter books, but there are also many Christian families who steer clear of the series for one predominant reason: it’s about witches and wizards. To condense their argument as precisely and efficiently as I can, there’s a Bible verse that’s fairly clear in Deuteronomy:
“Let no one be found among you who sacrifices their son or daughter in the fire, who practices divination or sorcery, interprets omens, engages in witchcraft, or casts spells, or who is a medium or spiritist or who consults the dead. Anyone who does these things is detestable to the Lord.”
In Harry’s first adventure alone, there’s certainly a great deal of spell-casting. There’s also kids talking to ghosts, crafting potions, and there’s even a scene where a young girl walks through fire. In short, I get it. I understand why Christians have made a fuss about these books.
And for my entire underage life, I respected this book ban.
Though we never fought fiercely to participate in the Potter fandom, there were times where my siblings and I questioned the judgement of our parents. We brought up works like The Wizard of Oz, Narnia, Lord of the Rings, and even Star Wars to inquire as to why these stories were allowed in the house despite the inherent magic within them. Various explanations were given for each, but I remember periods where I was not wholly convinced.
Clearly, I’ve finally read this book. Granted, I’ve lived apart from my parents for over four years now, but the delay came merely down to a lack of urgent interest instead of nervous hesitation. There’ve been plenty of other books I’ve wanted to read, but lately I’ve found myself wanting to give the franchise a try. There’s a few reasons behind that:
1. First and (apologetically) foremost, I just can’t stand the idea that there’s a fantasy-based multi-billion-dollar franchise that I can’t give my two cents’ worth on. I mean, Universal Studios has a whole themed land about it. I’m sure I’ll be there at some point in the future, and how will I be able to appreciate any of it if I haven’t read the source material?
2. Over the years, I’ve found that the books I’m most interested in reading are the ones that have had a lasting cultural impact in some way. Harry Potter certainly fits that bill – and while I’m not necessarily the author’s target audience, I’m interested to learn about why this franchise is so important to so many people.
3. I’m 27. I feel that my worldviews and perspectives on life are strong enough to withstand any potentially dangerous or flawed ideas in this book.
4. Maybe I’ll let my children read Harry Potter, and maybe I won’t until they’re older – either way, I’d like to make an informed decision.
5. I am a Christian who believes that what the Bible says is true. I also believe that Harry Potter stories are fictional in their narrative and in their premise. Harry’s made up, and so is the idea of people flying on broomsticks and making chess sets come to life. That’s not to say that I don’t believe in sorcery itself – you can find some in the book of 1 Samuel – but the sorcery inherent in Harry Potter is very blatantly fictionalized and fantasized.
6. As per my last point, I am not reading Harry Potter for the purposes of finding out more about practicing sorcery or to learn how to commune with the dead. I have no intentions of ‘engaging’ in witchcraft as the Bible warns against.
There will be Christians who disagree with my decision to crack open these books. I not only respect their opinion, but I affirm the importance of the Scriptures they use to support their opinion. Nonetheless, here we are. Let’s talk about Harry Potter.
Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone
One or two things are keeping me from loving the Wizarding World, but Harry Potter’s first adventure deserves a place amongst the shelves of classic fantasy.
First and foremost, I want to say how much I enjoyed reading the version of the text that I did. Over the Christmas holidays back in 2020, I asked for the hardcover illustrated editions of Harry Potter 1-4 (the remainder in the series being not yet available). By that time I knew I wanted to give these books a solid try, and up till seeing Jim Kay’s illustrated editions, I’d never seen an edition of Harry Potter that fit so perfectly with the aesthetic I’m going for on my bookshelf. The illustrations are just terrific, and they added so much to the reading experience. I can say without hesitation that any hardcore Harry Potter fan would be remiss to ignore these editions. They’re stunning.
Let’s talk about the text itself, though. The Philosopher’s Stone is a kid-friendly romp through a fantastical world, bringing to mind the worlds of Roald Dahl, C. S. Lewis, and P. L. Travers. The characters were distinctive and fun, each contributing their own flair to any given scene. Obviously Harry, Ron, and Hermione are the three stars, but Hagrid, Snape, and Malfoy were similarly fun in their own ways. Having grown up seeing clips of the Harry Potter movies, it was difficult not to picture those actors throughout the book. Thankfully, those interpretations proved very faithful to the source material.
While there’s a definite linearity to the narrative, most of the Hogwarts-centric chapters are more or less self-contained. This leads to each chapter feeling more like watching a television show than a movie, and I think this works for children’s literature. It means that the reader can enjoy a chapter for the chapter’s sake even if they can’t grasp or remember its importance to the whole. There’s a Halloween chapter, a Christmas chapter, a Quidditch chapter, and so on. Things never get boring. And while each chapter tells a self-contained story, it also gives sprinkles of information that build towards the climax we get at the end of the story with the big reveal about who’s really been up to no good at Hogwarts. The climactic journey through Hogwarts’ underbelly was likely my favourite part of the book, because it showed us Harry, Ron, and Hermione having the clearest understanding and appreciation for each other’s strengths. Earlier in the book, Harry and Ron really badger Hermione for being a know-it-all. She’s made to feel bad for caring about her studies, and I didn’t love that aspect of the story. Obviously there’s nothing wrong with showing ‘nerds’ getting picked on, but when it’s our protagonist doing it, it’s a bit different.
I wanted to talk about that for another second, because I found that there were numerous instances in this book where I wasn’t rooting for Harry. Harry’s the main character of a children’s book. That often means he’s a character that the children reading are meant to strive towards. Take, for example, the Pevensie children of Narnia. Lucy, Susan, and Peter are good-natured children. And even though Edmund starts off kind of sour, he wizens up by the end of the book. Or look at Sara from A Little Princess, Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, or Charlie Bucket from the Chocolate Factory. These are all young protagonists whose inherent goodness gets them through the novel – and it’s this goodness that makes them such important figures for young readers to identify with. There are certainly mischievous or unorthodox characters that we’re meant to learn from instead of imitate; Peter Rabbit or Shrek being two examples that come to mind. But many mischievous or otherwise flawed protagonists of stories aimed at young audiences usually have a revelation and change of heart before the end of the story, like Dr. Seuss’s Grinch or Disney’s Emperor Kuzco.
Harry seems like an untraditional protagonist in the sense that inherent goodness isn’t necessarily his strong suit. Yes, his parents loved him, and that love ends up protecting him in a very literal sense at the end of the book – but that love isn’t his own. It’s love that others felt for him. In terms of the decisions Harry makes for himself, here’s some of them. Harry picks on Hermione for being studious. Sure, he’s just a kid, but he’s not exactly kind to Hermione in this book. He also openly and explicitly hates Draco Malfoy, Dudley Dursley, and Professor Snape. Yes, they’re all antagonists, but consider any Disney Princess. Cinderella’s story is similar to Harry’s in that she’s stuck in a crummy situation with an adoptive family that hates her, but Cinderella takes the moral high ground and refuses to sink to her step-mother’s level. What separates many Disney Princesses from their respective villains is their refusal to be swallowed up by bitterness. The Philosopher’s Stone ends with Harry telling his friends about his plans for Dudley:
They were surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face. “They don’t know we’re not allowed to use magic at home. I’m going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer…”
Harry’s looking to use magic (or at least the threat of magic) to manipulate and take advantage of a boy. Yes, the boy is a brat and deserves it – but that’s not the point. The point is that I was disappointed to find Harry consistently stooping to the moral low ground of his antagonists. Snape hated Harry, so Harry hated Snape right back. Dudley was a jerk to Harry, so Harry planned on being a jerk right back. Malfoy acted too pompous for Harry, so Harry actively searched for ways to humble him. Is it fair? Sure. Is it something a child would do? Certainly. Is it something I’d look for in the character of a protagonist? No.
Perhaps I’m being too harsh on Harry, and if I am, I’d encourage any Potter fans to help me better understand Harry’s characterization. It’s really his behaviour that I find issue with more than any of the magic in the book.
And on that note, let’s get back to something I loved about the novel. I’ve always loved Narnia because every fantastical thing you could imagine is in there. They’ve got centaurs, unicorns, winged horses, mermaids – you name it, they’ve got it. It’s a wonderful hodgepodge of fantasy elements that work together to tell one story. Harry Potter feels very much like that. All the stuff you’ve heard about when it comes to witches, wizards, and mythical creatures turns out to be true in the world of Harry Potter. There’s broomstick-riding, potion-making, and magic wands. It’s the kind of story that affirms all those things you’ve imagined in your childhood, which is what makes it such compelling escapist literature. I loved the design of the Wizarding World. The visit to Diagon Alley felt very much to me like Luke Skywalker’s visit to Mos Eisley, or Bilbo Baggins’ first night with the dwarves. And maybe it’s a silly thing to like, but I loved hearing the names of all these made-up magic books that wizards read. C. S. Lewis did the same in “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe” when Lucy visited Mr. Tumnus, and it’s such a fun and simple way to deepen the world of the novel. That was great.
Oh – one more thing I’ve got to mention. As someone who’s grown up at summer camp and competed in games against other teams, I know all about points systems and fair play. I cannot understand the frivolity with which the teachers at Hogwarts give out and take away points. Snape doesn’t like your shirt? Five points from Gryffindor. You tell the truth? Fifty points to Hufflepuff. The numbers all felt very arbitrary to me, but then again, maybe the teachers fudge the numbers and just pick the house they want at the end of the year. But that can’t be the case, because it’s made apparent that the teachers each are rooting for certain houses to win. That’s like having referees wearing a jersey of the team they like the most. Shouldn’t the people giving out points be impartial? And how is it determined how many points are given out or taken away? If I was Slytherin at the end of this book, I’d feel so cheated because at least they earned their points fair and square. If anything, what Harry and his friends did was an extracurricular activity. Why did they get over a hundred and fifty points out of the blue? What a rip.
I’m walking away from this book with a few questions for sure. But I’m also eager to read the next one.
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