Jim Kay’s Wizarding World 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets begins with an assault on the reader.   Turn to page five and you are forced into Harry’s shoes, suddenly confronted by a large pair of green eyes staring fixedly between the leaves of the hedge.  How many of us involuntarily thought of putting out those eyes to stop their owner from spying on Harry?Those startling pink-rimmed eyes belonged to Dobby the house elf, the first and  least but bravest of Harry’s protectors in The Chamber of Secrets.  Look again at Dobby’s eyes after reading the entire novel and they may appear more watchful than malicious.

It’s the first of many images of wide open eyes (and references to eye sockets) in a story stalked by an unseen beast whose gaze kills.  The terror it arouses at Hogwarts is foreshadowed in the illustration at the end of The Philosopher’s Stone  that shows the reflection of Professor Quirrell lifting up a fold in the back of his turban to reveal the menacing red eye of He Who Must Not Be Named.

At the climax of The Chamber of Secrets, Harry, with eyes shut tight in the dark, senses the stone serpents’ empty eye sockets tracking his movements.  Disarmed by Tom Riddle, who twirls the wand like a cat toying with a mouse, Harry is forced to hear how Ginny was the unwitting pawn in a scheme to entrap and destroy the boy she adores  Taunted by Riddle in a calculated attempt to break his spirit, Harry’s  defiant insistence  that Dumbledore is the greater of the two wizards summons the phoenix Fawkes to the chamber Slytherin built.  What Riddle forgets in his confidence that victory will not  elude him a third time is that Fawkes can blind with the basilisk with its beak and cure any mortal wound it inflicts with its tears.  The help of the phoenix reinvigorates Harry’s strength and will so he give the basilisk its death blow with Godric Gryffindor’s sword and thrust the serpent’s fang into Riddle’s diary, unknowingly destroying the first of the Horcruxes.

At their best, Kay’s illustrations capture the grandeur of an uneven story, one of whose functions is laying down material that will drive the complex plot forward in the series’ successive volumes (not unlike The Subtle Knife or The Two Towers).  From scene to scene, the shifts between low comedy and heroism are not always managed as skillfully as they might have been and some of that awkwardness is reflected in the pictures.

It’s quite noticeable in the illustraitons of Dobby, an crucial supporting character who unites servility with unexpected bravery.  Like Hagrid, he speaks in an awkward dialect that demotes him to a caricature,  when he ought to be more than that most of the time. Dobby is  first compared to “an ugly rag doll” and Kay obliges with a picture of the house elf perched on the edge of Harry’s bed.  His pink slab of a lower lip, enormous pop eyes, huge ears fringed with fine bristles, and filthy feet with long untrimmed nails do not make him loveable, although his resemblance to a Frank Oz creature is unmistakable.  The equally unattractive portrait of Dobby cradling Harry’s filthy sock to his face (here pristine) gives the reader permission to laugh the moment of freedon from slavery.  More revelatory of Dobby’s toughness, loyalty, and misdirected ingenuity, is the vignette of him, the pillow case above his buttocks, intent on the destruction of Aunt Petunia’s pudding.   His appearance is off-putting but funny without being as hideous or ridiculous as in the other two pictures.

Creating portraits that blend the admirable with the risible was perhaps one of the biggest challenges the text presented to Kay.  Moaning Myrtle has a mug right out of a cartoon when a better model would have been Shirley Henderson, who playing the ghost in the film with a crafty yet infantile expression that was delectable.

More satisfying is the second of the two portraits of Mrs. Weasley, holding up a flower pot of Floo powder, her red hair in need of a good hair cut under the crumpled green witch’s hat.  Kay was perhaps justifiably a little cruel in his depiction of an older woman’s body, but Mrs. Weasley’s warm, unguarded expression makes her individual and likeable  without sacrificing the realistic edge.Kay proved he can do gross…  The sketchy picture of Ron vomiting slugs is followed with a full-page spread decorated with more slugs dragging trails of bright yellow bile.  The artist’s attempts to create something like cinematic special effects are more mixed than magical.  Harry’s figure on his maiden voyage on Floo powder should look as if it were speeding out of control instead of frozen in one moment (if indeed that’s posssible).  When Harry bursts through the window in Tom Riddle’s diary, he seems to have fallen into an Abstract Expressionist painting instead of a memory strategically selected by his nemesis.

The October 2016 publication date for The Chamber of Secrets must have obliged Kay to repeat himself, not having the time to realize more of those important but potentially difficult scenes like the magnificent aerial view of St. Pancras,  the brooding view of Hagrid making his way down Knockburn Alley, or the tense interview between Aragog, Harry, Ron, and Fang.  For my money, the three following illustrations are critical to establishing the novel’s mood (and play to  Kay’s strengths) than do the two pictures of Dudley stuffing his face or the crowds of garden gnomes, Cornish pixies, and spiders.Ahitectural subjects are one of Kay’s fortes.  Yet it is easy to understand  why he chose to draw a frieze of high relief figures disporting themselves delightfully in medieval bathrooms instead of the entrance the Chamber of Secrets.  Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom may be in desperate need of remodeling, but that sink cannot have survived intact after a thousand years’ of abuse by school children with magical powers.  More to the point, where is Dumbledore’s office, a scene tailor-made for Kay, which I would have been willing to trade for the four new blocks of Diagon Alley?  Why is there no stupendous view of the Chamber, with its columns, serpentine decorations, and ominous statue of Salazar Slytherin with the weedy beard down to his feet?  The spread with the basilisk’s gigantic moulted skin with small figures of Ron, Harry, and Lockhart in the middle distance is nothing more than a teaser.

Nor is it clear why there are no pictures anywhere of the two most important actors in the drama–Ginny Weasley with her vivid red hair and Tom Riddle.  Perhaps Kay was unable to find the right models in the time he had to complete the set of illustrations.  As wonderful as the pictures of Sir Patrick brandishing his severed head astride his skeletal steed, a rueful Hagrid, or the label for Skelegro are, they are no substitute for seeing the handsome, charming and utterly ruthless sixteen-year old shimmer in and out of focus.  Too many missed opportunities ultimately diminish the novel.  I would have rather the publisher had done away with most of the black pages, which are the equivalent of movie music that tells members of the audience what to feel, instead of trusting their imagination.  Sections with the pages specially patterned with shadowy outlines of snake scales, spider webs, lime green triangles, and imitation foxing don’t add enough to the reading experience to deprive readers of a chance to see Fawkes fly off with Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Lockhart, after those tantalizing pictures of soaring birds (and magical cars) in the novel’s opening chapters.  If it were up to me, I’d give Kay the time he needs to draw the illustrations The Prisoner of Azkhaban  that will bring the story to life.

Run, Run, Run just as Fast as You Can! Better Get Away from the Gingerbread Man…

When I was fooling around with the idea of a Christmassy post about gingerbread, I was expecting to include “The Gingerbread Man,” the American version of the tale type about some kind of food (usually a pancake) that runs away from the people who made it for their meal, then a whole succession of other hungry creatures, only to be outsmarted by a fox   The most interesting stories I found featuring gingerbread men weren’t cut out with the same cutter, so I decided to let them out of the cookie jar after the holiday season had come and gone.  And for good reason…

Oh no, it’s Mr. Bill’s cousins!

In Northern Europe, molds and cutters for gingerbread cookies are available in more  sizes and shapes than the all-American little man with short chubby arms and legs.  Some of the gingerbread cookies that turn up in Scandinavian children’s books like Ottilia Adelborg’s Bilderbok (Stockholm: Albert Bonnier, 1907) are the stuff out of bad dreams, not visions of sugar plums.  The illustration below shows a brother and sister dreaming of a gingerbread troll after helping their mother with the Christmas baking.

The Brown Book or The Story of the Gingerbread Man illustrated by Florence Hardy (London: Henry Frowde and Hodder & Stoughton, 1909) looked perfectly innocent on the outside.  Little Timothy Brown so lusts for the gingerbread man in the village shop, that he asks the proprietress if he can have it and pay in three weekly installments.  When she refuses the offer, he goes home and throws a tantrum.  Suddenly a giant gingerbread man appears and says, “As you want me so much, you see I’ve come…But as you can’t pay in pence, you must pay me some other way.”  He marches the boy home, where he is forced to do hard labor, along with a band of forest creatures.  One night when his oppressor is fast asleep, the boy escapes from bondage, just ahead of the Gingerbread Man’s bullets.   But it’s all a bad dream and Timothy is presented with the coveted gingerbread man by his mother.  Wonder why he eats it immediately…

The Royal Baking Powder advertising brochure, The Little Gingerbread Man (1923), takes place in the kingdom of Jalapomp where there’s nothin’ lovin’ is comin’ from the oven, the royal cook being so incompetent that the king has banished all baking, including birthday cakes.  Informed of this draconian measure by the Flour Fairy, the Queen of neighboring Cooky Land calls for volunteers to airlift light, fresh, hot cakes and buns made properly with Royal Baking Powder to Jalapomp.  The smells alone are enough  to convince the king to restore the delights of baked goods to him and his subjects.  The motley posse of volunteers–a sugar cookie, buckwheat cake, doughnut, and muffin–led by Johnny Gingerbread do not look especially toothsome.   The simplest explanation for the heroes’ unappetizing appearance is that the artist Charles J. Coll could draw fairies, but not sweets.  Would a child see  every cookie on the dessert plate with hideous wrinkles and staring eyes?

But the piece de resistance is John Dough and the Cherub (1906).   M. Jules Grogrande, the French baker, goes into the shop at 3 am to make a nattily dressed gingerbread man as big as a fourteen-year-old boy to put in the window in honor of the 4th of July holiday.  He accidentally mixes diluted Elixir of Life, which his wife left in a bowl on the counter, into the dough.  I think you can figure out what happened next…

Gary Trousdale and the team responsible for Scared Shrekless, eat your hearts out. You thought you were the first to retell Frankenstein with gingerbread people?  L. Frank Baum, creator of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, and its Royal Illustrator John R. Neill, beat you to it in John Dough…

Gingy examining the freshly baked Sugar from “The Bride of Gingy” section of Scared Shrekless.