Jim Kay’s Wizarding World 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

When it comes to ranking the individual volumes of Harry Potter from best to worst, everybody’s a critic.  The longest of the seven books, Order of the Phoenix tends to fall at the top or the bottom of lists. The first 156 pages in two columns takes Harry from Privet Drive to Grimmauld Place, the Ministry for the disciplinary hearing, back on the Hogwarts Express, and finally the Great Hall to hear the Sorting Hat warn of imminent danger with Dolores Umbridge seated at high table. Panicked students studying for the O.W.L.S. just aren’t as riveting as her brief reign of terror–or the Tri-Wizard Tournament in the previous volume.  After the magnificent  chaos of the Weasley twins’ exit, the pace accelerates exponentially in the remaining one hundred pages with the standoff in the Department of Mysteries, the death of Sirius loses his life, and the rout of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named by Dumbledore. The falling action slows to a crawl while the head master rehearse all the necessary exposition which will propel the plot over the last two books punctuated by the crashes of delicate instruments Harry throws against the walls. Order of the Phoenix this time around was more of a slog than I remembered.  Rowling’s challenge,  similar to Diana Wynne Jones’s Witch Week (1982),  was to integrate adolescent angst, test anxiety, and magic in a school story while building towards the outbreak of the Second Wizarding War.  Crosscutting between academics and the gathering storm isn’t always smooth, when so much more rides on friends’ standoff against the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries than their O.W.L.S., whose results won’t be revealed until the beginning of The Half-Blood Prince.   Piling on Harry’s halting, wooden conversations with Cho Chang and Hagrid’s taming of half-brother Grawpy dragged down the story, at least in my opinion. I also wished Rowling’s editor had pointed out that Harry doesn’t need to bellow in all caps because context makes is clear that he was upset, mad, frustrated, etc.

Kay’s strategy in the preceding four volumes played to his gifts–carefully observed drawings of fabulous beasts, architecture, and individual character.  Several lovely drawings are devoted to owls, which sharply contrast with the spread of the common doxy, all legs, sharp teeth and claws, sprayed without mercy by Mrs. Weasley and her gang of exterminators.  Thestrals appear twice with Harry—a haunting one of him looking up at a thestral and the much more frightening one of  him clinging to his skeletal mount as it wheels over the London skyline.

Grimmauld Place is a perfect subject for an artist with Kay’s flair for the dark and uncanny.   Open the book and the row houses’ facades, which have seen better days, appear on the front endpapers; flip to the back and number 12 has emerged black and looming between numbers 11 and 13.  Mrs. Weasley climbs the filthy, decaying stairway to the upper floors on an errand. In another Sirius and Harry clean out the grim cabinet of sinister curiosities in what was once a grand room.New characters came to life in more portraits.  Tonks is charming in her robes over torn jeans. Dolores Umbridge presides over the tea table set with a garish pink service,stubby thick fingers grasping a knife dripping blood-red jam. Her mustard floral patterned robes are accessorized with a necklace of beads that look like staring eyes and two little smears of lipstick on her teeth.  In the less grotesque portrait of Luna Lovegood, the bulging misty blue eyes nearly overshadow the signature necklace of butterbeer corks.  With her wand behind her ear, she is odd but not unlikeable although difficult to size up.  One of Kay’s favorites, Hagrid is the subject of several rather unpleasant illustrations, painted in muddy colors with coarse brush strokes.  In this volume, Snape’s appearance is more ghoulish than human, a change that the text does not really call for, unless it is supposed to be Harry’s projection of the potions masterThe strain of doing justice to scenes revolving around individual heroism and those celebrating fellowship manifests itself most clearly in the absence of illustrations for dramatic confrontations between characters before witnesses–Umbridge’s attempt to throw out Sybil Trelawney, Ron letting through goals during the Quidditch match, Dumbledore defying Fudge in his office. The double-page illustration of the members of Dumbledore’s Army summoning up their patronuses doesn’t quiver with energy, except for the drawing of Fred (or is it George) in the lower left.  As in the previous four volumes, sections of colored pages signal the heightening of tension: during the course of the episode in the Department of Mysteries, backgrounds change from black, greenish-black, purple, pale bluish-green and back to black.  What Kay draws on those pages instead of falling bodies crashing into ranges of shelving, Hermione marking the exit door, or the blasting of the statues in the Ministry’s atrium, is a series of frightening faces from below.  They are the stuff of nightmares, but  the small eerie line drawing of Ginny was much more effective because the expression on her face communicated fear, wonder, and horror when confronted by the  glass bell.Order of the Phoenix doesn’t feel incompletely realized—not because the illustrator’s heart wasn’t in it, but perhaps the story put too many daunting demands on him, even with Neil Packer, a long-time illustrator for the Folio Society providing many accomplished decorations and vignettes. I was not entirely surprised by Kay’s announcement when it was published in October 2023 that he was stepping away from the project to focus on his mental health (the dedication mentioned his doctors at the NHS, which suggests he must have been struggling for some time). At the beginning of this huge endeavor, I wondered how Kay could meet the grueling publication schedule (originally one volume a year) without collapsing or sacrificing quality.  He must have felt as if he were being eaten alive by the project and that it would be impossible to illustrate the last two volumes without an extended sabbatical to recharge his imagination.  He deserves nothing but good wishes from his fans for a well-deserved rest and for all his future endeavors.  Bloomsbury has promised to find a successor to complete the illustrated Harry Potter, but no one has been named yet, as far as I’ve been able to discover.

Banned Books 101: Teaching Toddlers, Preschoolers, and Early Elementary Grades about the Right to Read

Back in the trenches this week to review some recent picture books introducing younger readers to the concept of censorship.  Liberal values and a clever concept will get the project off and running, but good intentions may not be enough to avoid the potholes, such as explaining why it can happen, what is at stake, and how it might affect them.

All these ideas are great topics. but probably not age appropriate in a  board book modeled on the Baby Lit series.  “In this colorful celebration of groundbreaking books that have appeared on ‘banned’ book lists, little readers get a glimpse into the books’ important themes,” gurgles the blurb.  In Baby’s First Book of Banned Books, the little rebel-in-the-making is supposed to engaged with the six- to seven- word restatements of the book’s themes illustrationed by Laura Korzon. “ I have gifts that are special” sums up Lois Lowry’s chapter book The Giver (1993) versus “My friends can help when I’m sad or scared” for YA novel Stephen Chbosky’s The Perks of Being a Wall Flower  (1999).  Compare with “We’re not so different you and me” for Khaled Hosseini’s novel The Kite Runner (2003) and “I am beautiful” for Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye (1970).  The glossary provides parents with scripts and talking points so that they can deftly avoid telling their preliterate children all about the subjects that got the books banned in the first place such as rape, heavy recreational drug use, trauma, mental illness, and the oppression of minorities.  Hopelessly idealistic? Tone deaf? Or cynical?

In 2018, Raj Haldar, aka Philadelphia rapper Lushlife, hit the jackpot as the coauthor of  P is for Pterodactyl: The Worst Alphabet Ever, showing why it’s easier to learn to read than spell in English.  With 26 letters, 45 sounds and over 250 ways to put them together, there are too many choices and too many rules.   An exasperating subject that lends itself to humor, but is the same true for book banning?

Haldar and illustrator Julia Patton in This Book is Banned (Naperville, IL: Sourcebooks eXplore, 2023) fool around with a silly narrator and cook up squirrelly reasons for chopping things out of a book.  The cover, end papers, and title page warn the reader to keep it closed up tight. The narrator, when confronted with the prospective disobedient reader, says go ahead, turn the page and see how easy it is to cancel any subject—giraffes, dinosaurs, avocados and beds without monsters underneath.  For example, no can have the story of the Big Bad Wolf because somebody–not  you, dear  reader– was scared and so the big hairy beast was changed into a sweetie pie.  The last page announces that “we banned everything and there’s no ending left to read.”  The way Haldar and Patton break the fourth wall makes for a couple of fun read alouds,  but it won’t be much of a resource if as the adult who has to explain why book banners are turning up the pressure on the school librarian.  The presence of giraffes and avocados in children’s books aren’t as likely to be on the school board’s agenda as sex and drugs.

In The Great Banned-Books Bake Sale, Aya Khalil tries to make an attempt to ban books in an elementary school library real for children that age.  The protagonist is Kanzi, the Egyptian immigrant girl in Khalil’s first book The Arabic Quilt (2020). Kanzi and her class go to the library where they are told the diverse books have been removed on the order of the school board over the objection of the school librarian who acquired them. The children don’t understand what could possibly be wrong with the beautiful books they like because they show “people of many identities, backgrounds, and walks of life.”  The principal and librarian urge them to fight for their right to read and the children hit on the idea to hold a bake sale of goodies mentioned in banned books within a few days.  The proceeds will go towards the purchase of replacement copies of books about families like theirs.  When the treats have been sold, the TV cameras arrive in time to film the peaceful demonstration urging the reversal of the ban. Kanzi finds the courage to read aloud her poem “Books are for everyone.  Am I not important?  Am I invisible?”   The school board backs down a week later and the diverse books are reinstated in the classroom.

An Arab Muslim-American mother, Khalil strongly advocates that black, brown, Asian, Native American, and immigrant (but not LGBTQUIA) children have access to “affirming, inclusive books” in this optimistic story where the characters agree wholeheartedly on what is right (and puffs Khalil’s Arabic Quilt in several places).  Without the opposition coming on stage to voice alternative values, the nature of social conflict and resolution was presented standing up for a set of beliefs without having discussions and negotiations with those holding alternative views. Khalil and her illustrator Anait Semirdzhyan chose in The Great Banned-Books Bake Sale to light the spark of democratic participation by showing the children triumphing over authority on the first try.  Their goal in writing this story was a worthy one, but it underscores why 32-page picture books may not be the best vehicles for explanations of political processes.

There is nothing sunny or optimistic about the treatment of censorship in Banned Book by Jonah Winter, a noted author of non-fiction picture books.    Few of the Amazon reviewers disliked the book, saying it was relevant and important because of its subject.  Winter’s text is redacted : words, phrases, and sentences have been blacked out supposedly to protect the reader from dangerous content. Almost everyone with a comment about the graphic design seemed to agree that as an visualization of the process of censorship, it was better suited for older children, who probably still would have difficult questions with an adult.

The selective blacking-out  of the text  creates intriguing patterns on the page without interrupting the flow of meaning because no text was actually been excised, as is quite clear on the last two pages.  In spite of the black lozenges marching across line after line, the message is unequivocal: “they claim that they only want to protect children when what they really want is power over everyone, because they don’t believe other people have the right to think for themselves.  What had been a book was not just garbage decomposing, turning into dirt.”   Would the same exercise driven the same point home more forcefully to young readers if the text had been a familiar fairy tale like “Cinderella” or “Red Riding Hood” where they could have puzzled out the missing bits of text and explain how their absence affected them?

Illustrator Gary Kelley’s grainy pictures are dominated by shades of blue-gray, slate blue, and grayish lavender, with occasional highlights of tans and pale oranges.  The palette is perhaps meant to communicate the idea that the battle has already been lost in the classroom and school library.  On the first page, a boy furtively looks into a book, as if he expects to be caught and a few pages later is a staring eye peering at a page through a magnifying glass looking for objectionable material.   Children sit mute in class, books open, their hands raised to answer a question to which there is only one answer. Hot red appears only in the two illustrations of the book banners and the devils on the cover.  The association of  the book banners with red sends mixed signals,  its contemporary associations with MAGA clashing with older left-wing ones such as Socialism and Communism.  Of this dystopian picture book, the one Amazon reviewer to give the book one star said, “A bit too stylized and dark for me. As for the text—I’m all for guiding kids to appropriate books and helping them process the difficult ones, but this book (as much as I was able to stomach) came across as bitter, didactic, and self-righteous.”

No denying how wonderful it is that Haldar, Khalil, and Winter all elevate librarians for standing up for children’s right to read in the face of challenges by administrators, parents, and outside organizations, even if  they perpetuated a tired old visual stereotype… From the perspective of a professional with the luxury of buying books capturing the contemporary moment for future readers to study, it is hard to gauge if they can be effective teaching tools with the support of a thoughtful adult or if their presence on the shelves will be more successful in pouring oil on the fire in the struggle for control over curriculum and supporting resources.