[HPforGrownups] On the perfection of moral virtues

Marion Ros mros at xs4all.nl
Mon May 14 21:37:03 UTC 2007


No: HPFGUIDX 168724

So often I hear from readers the excuse that they don't want their 'heroes' to be perfect, that they like to see the characters 'warts and all', that they would think 'morally perfect heroes to be unrealistic', and they are absolutely right about that. 
However, the bone I have to pick with the 'heroes' of the Potterverse is not that they are morally imperfect, rude and self-absorbed little brats, but that they *stay* morally imperfect rude and self-absorbed brats. They only grow bigger, not better.
Good children's books have *never* given us morally perfect children as the heroes of the story. Well, not in the past hundred years of so. Not that I can remember anyway. But they did give us morally imperfect children who *learned* from their experiences. That was usually one of the points made in the story.

Take 'The Secret Garden' by Frances Hodgson Burnett. Published in 1911. A golden oldie, and with good reason.
The two protagonists of the story are both spoiled, self-centered, rude and deeply unhappy children. During the story they learn how to be social, how the "whole orange does not belong to one person alone - they only may claim for one part and if they grab for the whole orange, they're likely to only get the pips". They learn how to be loving and lovable. How to be normal, ordinary children, neither perfect or imperfect.
Other characters in the book also have their 'warts'. Ben Weatherstaff, who is a grumpy, sour, disagreeable man, but who is also the children's friend who secretly helps them with their garden and who'll shelter their secret. Mrs Metlock, who 'has no time for children', but who is not unkind. Mr Craven, who grieves so much for his lost wife that he totally ignores and neglects his son, but who also learns to rise above his depression and love life again.

It's not the imperfection what matters in books like The Secret Garden, it's what you do with it, wether you rise above it or not. And rising above your imperfections does not mean that you must become 'nice' (Ben Weatherstaff stays grumpy and disagreeable and is nevertheless a good friend) or become 'perfect' (none of these characters ever are - they would be creepy if they were - with perhaps the exemption of Susan Sowerby who is too good to be true, but who has, luckely, a very smart role on the edge of the story)
It's never about being perfect, it's about trying to grow into something better.

Another example? How about The Hobbit, by Tolkien.
Bilbo Baggins is a staid, self-congratulating oaf at the start of the story. During his travels he learns to use his wits, to be self-reliant, to become a hero, even if it's a very small one. When he returns home he's in now way 'morally perfect' or even particularly 'nice' (he's very scathing of his neighbours and family whom he now considers dull and provincial) but he has also learned that the world is bigger than he selfcontainedly thought before and that he himself is only a very small being in a very large world. What are those last lines again?
'Of course!', said Gandalf. 'And why should not they prove true? Surely you don't disbelieve the prophecies, because you had a hand in bringing them about yourself? You don't really suppose, do you, that all your adventures and escapes were managed by mere luck, just for your sole benefit? You are a very fine person, Mr Baggins, and I am very fond of you; but you are only quite a little fellow in a wide world after all!"
'Thank goodness!', said Bilbo laughing, and handed him the tobacco-jar.

Quite a different fellow from the snug, snobbish little character who waved a Great Wizard away from his door with a 'Good Morning' as 'if he were selling buttons at the door'. Quite better.

Now, back to the Potter-verse.
Back, in fact to Harry Potter himself. 
Ask yourself: has Harry learned something in his six years at Hogwarts? Has he, for instance, learned that he could be wrong about people (Quirrell, Moody, Scabbers, Sirius - to name but a few), situations ("Tonks must be mourning for Sirius to have a changed Patronus"), etc.? Does this change his behaviour. Does he, in fact, *realise* that he is often mistaken about people, situations etc?
Does he ever learn that certain behaviour, such as, say, rushing in where angels fear to tread, is dangerous, to himself as well as to other people, and does he learn to be, for instance, more cautious or does he persist in this behaviour?
Does Harry ever get advice from friends or allies who know more about a subject or the WW in general (Mr Weasley advising that the Marauders Map could be dangerous; Neville advising not to get the Prophecy Orb; Prof. McGonegal telling him to stay out of the Philosophers Stone business and to let the adults take care of things, etc etc) and has he ever listened or does he persist in doing whatever he wants to anyway?
Does he ever engage in morally iffy things like, say, prejudices and does he ever *realise* that his knee-jerk reaction to certain people are based on prejudices and not on facts?

Interestingly, anybody who has ever read a good number of British juvenile books from between 1900 and 1950 would know the stereotype of the 'greasy foreigner' - usually a Frenchman or Italian, but also often a Gypsy or a Jew. The stereotype includes greasy hair, hooked nose and sallow skin. This to differentiate between the Good Noble Cleanlimbed Redcheeked British Boy Who Is Into Sports and the Flattering Effeminate (hence the hair-pomade) Sly and Unhealthy Loungelizard of a Frenchman/Italian or the Shifty, Sly, Dishonest, Dirty (hence the greasy hair) Gypsy/Jew. 
Ah yes, early 20th century childrens literature is an education in itself. When I first read Snape's description I mentally ticked off all the points from my 'British juvenile literature Jingoistic stereotype' card.
Funny. Harry so hates his family, but he seems to have adopted their prejudices about 'foreign looking people' just the same.
Even more funny: so many of the readers, and especially those who shook their collective heads when reading how nasty Aunt Petunia and stupid Uncle Vernon thought that 'foreign looking people' were scary and creepy, so many readers who congratulated themselves on not being 'racist' like the Dursleys, so many of those readers readily, with Harry, assumed that Snape was Bad News because he *looked the part*!
You've got to laugh, really. 

But back to the previous alinea. 
Has Harry ever changed in all those years in attitude? Has he grown as a person? 
Personally - and this is my beef with the series - I can't see *any* change. Harry was a judgemental, self-absorded, rude eleven-year-old and six year later Harry is a judgemental, self-absorded, rude sixteen-year-old.
I'm still waiting for Harry to *learn*.
I'm hoping Harry will finally, *finally* realise that he *needs* to change, to learn, in Book 7.


Marion

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