No Chaser

On the Power of Narrative

This week, some friends decided it would be fun to go to the new Harry Potter film and to the local library celebration of the release of the new Harry Potter book.  And, although I've not been psyched up about HP this year, I went along.  I enjoyed the film, but I was distracted through much of it and didn't feel drawn into it the way I normally do.  The library event goes best unremarked upon.  And, I figured I would just wait to read a library copy of the book as I usually do.

But everyone here is reading it.  One woman in my class had already finished it by 8:30 this morning, and when she began to talk about it, almost every voice in this 62-person class raised up in nervous protest that she not give anything away.  Not long afterward, I walked by the school bookstore and saw a sign offering 40% off the new Harry Potter.  It sucked me in.  After all, I thought, I'm done with this class, and almost done with this program.  I'm going to have plenty time to read for fun again.  

I wandered around the shelves looking for other things I might like to read, and ultimately got to the counter with Harry Potter shoved in between Charles Simic and Patrick Hamilton like a bottle of lube tucked inconspicuously between the laundry detergent and ice cream.

As I traversed the bookstore, scanning shelves for something to read, I felt a comfortable familiarity that made me think, "This is who I am.  This is what I do."  And, it was then I realized why I'd cut myself off from fiction and film for so many months now.  

I had been in such an intensely chaotic mental state, and everything I read or watched seemed to threaten my already fragile (in)stability.  As I was in the process of tearing down and refashioning myself, I needed to question (and answer) an infinite number of beliefs, practices, and desires to which number novels and movies only added their own.  Buying new books aptly marks the tail end of that process, a place where I am ready to reassemble valued pieces of me around the shiny new core.

When I first started this process of falling apart, the only thing I could manage to read was Harry Potter.  So, it is apt as well that I come back to books via our magical friend.

For years, I avoided participating in what I considered the purely media-hyped pop culture phenomenon that is Harry Potter.  Smelt, whom I generally trust with reading recommendations, insisted the books were wonderful.  But, while Smelt likes the fantasy genre, I really don't, so I put it out of my mind.

Then, in the midst of grad school, I needed a fantasy, some escape from the daily brutality of intellectual hazing.  Randomgirl and her cadre of friends were already deep into their addictive relationships with Potter and his wizarding ilk by the time she and I became officemates, and their secret club talk about the exotic intricacies of Muggles and Quidditch captured my attention.

Soon, rg had loaned me her copy of the first novel, and I was immediately hooked.  For me, it wasn't the wacky nomenclature, the magical creatures, the classical allusions that appealed.  Nor was it every smart girls' heroine, Hermione, or the other great characters that drew me in.   I have loved boarding school narratives since I was young, probably because I fantasized about getting away from an unhappy home life not unlike Harry's own, and it was the story of leaving behind damaging situations to find security and redemption through community that got me.

Rowling has not let me down on this matter.  Throughout the series, she has kept us questioning who is valuable in our lives, how we might deal with our "enemies," where the power lies in coalition, in friendship, in passionate mutual devotion.  These are important questions for all of us to ask and to answer for ourselves and our various communities large and small.

But it's "just children's literature" some will argue.  Yet, it is precisely this genre's directness and simplicity that makes it powerful.  And, with a history-making publication run of 12 million copies, what book is encouraging more people worldwide to think about these ideas than Harry Potter?

This post began as an impulse to write a silly report about the Harry Potter hoopla and my own role in it, ending humorously, I imagined, with the anecdote about my furtive purchase of the new book.  But, an hour or more of contemplation later, I know that on the planes and buses home from The Corn tomorrow, I will pull the book out from under cover of Simic and read my Harry Potter without shame.

posted by: NoChaser at July 21, 2007 11:04 | link | comments (2) |

The corn!!! Aaaah!!

I have returned (for the final time) to the Land of Corn where I am busily completing a 2-credit course over nine days -- "busily" being the very appropriate modifier here.  In addition to cramming in a semester's worth of reading and work in under two weeks, I am also going to load all my stuff onto a semi to ship back to the West Coast and my newly tenanted apartment. 

Speaking of my apartment ... I have been so peripatetic* of late that I find myself waking up each morning here thinking I am in one of two other beds, neither of which is the couchbed upon which I am actually laying.  It's kind of pleasantly disorienting as I drift in the warm sense of being somewhere I am infinitely more comfortable and happy before I wake up to face the reality that I am back in The Corn.

But, The Corn is not all bad.  It was nice to just run into Planbreaker riding her bike the other day, for example, and I realized what a bummer it is to not be able to just run into her in Seattle.  Because, you see, while I really never liked living here, I do really like the friends I made here, so while I'm delighted to never have to return, it is sad to know it will be the last time I see these good people for what will likely be quite some time.  (See also Purgatorio -- one of the people I will miss quite a bit -- for a similar, if more loving toward The Corn, report.)


*Yes, I did learn that word from A Chorus Line.  You got a problem widdat?

posted by: NoChaser at July 14, 2007 14:05 | link | comments (1) |

Once again

I find myself with a paper to write.  A paper I do not want to write.  And, when is it due?  Tomorrow at 4:30.  And, it is past noon and have I done anything?  No.

I was not always a good student, especially the first few years of high school.  But for the most part, I have been a diligent little worker:  doing assignments ahead of time, completing all the readings, participating actively in class.  What happened?

There are some obvious answers.  I am tired of being a student.  I am not very engaged by the material.  I don't want to spend my time thinking or writing about something someone else thinks is important but which I do not.  I would rather be writing poetry.  Or email.  Or blog entries.  Or reading about Le Tour or eating pizza or swimming in the lake.

I wonder if there are less obvious answers. 

posted by: NoChaser at July 10, 2007 13:22 | link | comments (4) |

New Pad

I just moved into a new beautiful apartment in an old brick building.  It has big windows, lots of light, a gorgeous kitchen, big bathtub, and (best of all) a Murphy bed.  It's also in the perfect location.  I totally love it. 

And, here is a little secret:  I have never lived alone before.  I have always had roommates, either out of financial need or romantic interest. 

I'm pretty excited to have my own space for real and not have to make any compromises about how I furnish or decorate or clean or eat or anything.  For example, I know of no one I have ever lived with who would have approved yesterday's purchase.  A glass tabletop with black pattern.  But, I love it.

posted by: NoChaser at July 06, 2007 15:52 | link | comments (4) |

Dreaming of Me

The last several months, a lot of people have been telling me they've had dreams about me.  I love hearing about and analyzing people's dreams, but it is a little tougher to do when you happen to be the subject of or at least a player in the dream.  

For one thing, the dreamer may not feel comfortable telling the truth about the dream.  "You were making me PopTarts.  Weird, huh?"  I mean, was I really just making PopTarts?  How did the dreamer feel about the PopTarts?  What was the context in which I making said PopTarts.  What flavor were they?

For another, your own interpretation may be a little too self-promoting.  "This dream is not weird at all.  Clearly, I provide sweetness in your life."  Really, I'd like to think that, but maybe their mom made them PopTarts and that made them feel neglected because all the other moms made oatmeal or eggs or pancakes. 

For this reason, I have long had the policy to ask one simple question when people tell me they've had a dream about me:  "What was I wearing?"

P.S. -- Yes, my title is a reference to Depeche Mode.  I am a dork.

"Filming and dreaming, I picture the scene
Filming and dreaming, dreaming of me"

posted by: NoChaser at July 02, 2007 12:38 | link | comments (1) |