WSJ & Priori Incantatem Question

smitster kippesp at swbell.net
Wed Oct 18 18:09:49 UTC 2000


No: HPFGUIDX 3962

New People:  To those new people looking for good HP discussions yet 
are feeling overwhelmed by the flood of our messages.  I'm about 2000 
message behind and plan on eventually getting them all read.  Mainly, 
the discussions are so though provoking I'd feel I'd miss out if I 
didn't.  But, I might add, a judicious use of filtering will assist 
in quickly moving through topics of little interest your.

Priori Incantatem: When Dumbledore is explaining this spell, he says 
that one of the wands will begin to reverse its spell.  Any thoughts 
on determining which wand this happens to?  Is this a function of the 
wand, the wizard, or is it random?

WSJ: In Wednesday's WSJ, we had a little Harry Potter to enjoy.  I'm 
including it for all to see.

Paul

----------

October 18, 2000  
 
Potterisms Are Invading the Language:
Don't Be Caught Looking the 'Muggle'

By MATTHEW ROSE and EMILY NELSON 
Staff Reporters of THE WALL STREET JOURNAL

Whenever anyone at Microsoft Corp.'s education division shoots down 
one of Marcia Kuszmaul's ideas, she retorts: "Don't be a muggle."

In J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series of novels, muggle is the often-
pejorative term for a person who isn't a wizard. "We use it at 
business-planning meetings," says Ms. Kuszmaul, who manages the group 
at the software giant's Redmond, Wash., headquarters. "We all like to 
see ourselves as one of the wizards."

The children's books about an unassuming orphan who turns out to be a 
wizard are wildly popular among people of all ages. Now, Potterisms 
are moving into the everyday language of work, politics and romance, 
where they are offering the series' millions of fans a new insiders' 
shorthand for all manner of good and evil. Newsday called sprinter 
Michael Johnson a "muggle" for flaming out of the Olympics 200-meter 
trials. A columnist for the Chicago Daily Herald said an NBC Olympics 
commentator was "the dementor of sports commentators," likening him 
to prison guards in the books who suck the joy out of people.
 
In Connecticut, there's one executive at Hartford Insurance Co. "who 
can make your life miserable," says Lisa Lesperance, who works there. 
One recent afternoon, he was spotted wandering the corridors with a 
group of acolytes. A colleague e-mailed Ms. Lesperance as the 
executive passed: "Here comes Draco Malfoy and his friends," naming 
one of Harry's archenemies, a snobbish rich kid with loyalties to 
renegade wizards.

"We all started giggling," says the 42-year-old Ms. Lesperance, who 
won't disclose her Draco's real name. Some of Ms. Lesperance's co-
workers call her Hermione, after Harry's know-it-all friend, because 
she is the only female in their crowd. Ms. Lesperance tells co-
workers to send her "owls," not e-mails, referring to the way the 
mail is delivered in the wizarding world. She calls the office 
ATM "Gringotts," after the wizard bank.

Amy Lyn Gerbrandt, a 29-year-old graduate student in comparative 
literature at the University of California at Davis, was recently at 
a conference in Helsinki, where a professor was explaining that 
scholars should avoid letting modern ideas of right and wrong cloud 
their judgment of historical events. A friend leaned over during the 
lecture and wrote "pensieve" in Ms. Gerbrandt's notebook.

A "pensieve," a device in book four, "Harry Potter and the Goblet of 
Fire," lets a person put his thoughts in a bowl to view them 
separately from everyday concerns. "In a pensieve, you can drain 
things out and clarify, and get a better sense of the now and the 
then," explains Ms. Gerbrandt. "All these important scholars, and 
Harry Potter beat them to it."

Some adults have found that they had better use Potterisms with 
caution. After lunch at Denver's Hops Brewery one Sunday, Mary Susan 
Powers stood to lift her one-year-old daughter out of her highchair, 
and nearly knocked over a glass of iced tea. Her husband, Steve 
Burton, called her "so much a Neville Longbottom," after Harry 
Potter's klutzy friend.

She snapped back, "When you know Neville's story, you'll feel sorry. 
So back off."

The next day, Mr. Burton finished book four on his lunch break at the 
janitorial company he owns. He read that Neville's awkwardness stems 
from the tragic fate his parents met in their heroic efforts against 
the Dark Arts. He felt guilty and apologized to his wife.

Potterisms also can backfire if delivered to the wrong crowd. Wendy 
Frank, who works for a New York construction company, was late for a 
meeting in midtown Manhattan because she couldn't find one dead-end 
street. "It's just like platform 9 3/4," she explained to blank looks 
from the executives she was visiting. Ms. Frank was talking about the 
King's Cross railway platform in the books that can be accessed only 
by wizards who walk through a solid barrier. The executives in the 
room didn't know what she was talking about.

LeGrand S. Redfield Jr. would say they were muggles. The president of 
Asset Management Group Inc., in Greenwich, Conn., uses the expression 
to describe people who annoy him. Building contractors are 
muggles "when you can't find one who will do what they said they will 
do when they said they will do it for the price they said," explains 
the 45-year-old. But there's no need to limit it to contractors, he 
adds. " 'Muggles' can be adapted for anything that is pejorative."

The Potter books have given parents new tools for scolding their 
kids. "What do you think this is, a Quidditch match?" yelled New 
Yorker David Rosenthal at his seven-year-old son, who was tearing 
around the family's Brooklyn brownstone. Mr. Rosenthal, a vice 
president at Simon & Schuster, was referring to the fast-paced and 
sometimes dangerous sport played by wizards on broomsticks. Even 
author Ms. Rowling, who says she is "bowled over" to hear people 
using Potterspeak, can't resist. When her seven-year-old daughter 
throws a temper tantrum, Ms. Rowling calls her "Dudley," after 
Harry's rude, fat cousin.

For some of the people at Scholastic Corp. who brought Harry Potter 
to the U.S., it's hard to leave the books at work.

Barbara Marcus, a senior executive at the publishing house, wasn't 
having any luck getting her six-year-old daughter to return a pen 
that wasn't hers. "Expelliarmus," came a cry from behind the bedroom 
door as Ms. Marcus's husband, Michael Pollack, entered the fray. By 
invoking the Potter spell that makes people drop what they're 
holding, Mr. Pollack persuaded their daughter to give up the pen.

Another Potter spell helps Kris Chadderton, a 21-year-old music major 
at Swarthmore College, "any time I'm under pressure," she says. 
Before her piano recitals, she paces the halls and mutters a special 
spell that wards off dementors: "Expecto patronum, expecto patronum."

Harry Potter works like a charm for Amy Cohen, helping the 42-year-
old New Yorker find dates. In July, she posted a personal ad on 
several Web sites and at a Manhattan coffee shop. She described 
herself -- then added -- "I idolize Harry Potter."

Replies flooded in and she is now exchanging e-mail with five men who 
litter their messages with Potterisms. One suggested a Quidditch 
match for their first date. "It's funny what it's doing for my social 
life," Ms. Cohen says. "They're good people, Harry Potter people."

Write to Matthew Rose at matthew.rose at wsj.com and Emily Nelson at 
emily.nelson at wsj.com

Copyright © 2000 Dow Jones & Company, Inc. All Rights Reserved. 






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