good book – Page 3 – Manda Kay Writes

Game of Thrones ain’t got nothin’ on the last of the Harry Potter series.

Let me backtrack. I’ve never read Game of Thrones. I’ve never watched the series. But I imagine that nothing in its pages will stab as deep as some of my favorite characters being slashed, zapped, and otherwise magicked out of existence. And I totally, most definitely, reserve the right to contradict myself should I ever delve into kings and dragons and drunk dwarves. And I totally, most definitely, sincerely, reserve the right to retract that statement should it be false and otherwise insensitive. I don’t know. I don’t know what it’s about.

But that’s not why we are here.

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Harry Potter was a huge deal when I was in grade school. Everyone who was anyone read the books and watched the movies and bought the merch and wrote the fanfiction and wrote the slashfiction…eh, you get it.

I was late getting on the train.

So, back up a bit more, I adored the movies, and my friends were all reading the books, so I tried to read them, too. Key note: tried. I read the first book by myself, but the second and part of the third, I had to use my own personal audio book: my mother. She would sit in the red, worn chair in the living room, and I would sit on the floor in front of her, and listen to her read to me aloud. This was during a time that I was “too old” to have my mommy read to me (shame on me for ever thinking that), but I had some problems comprehending what I read to myself. The words wouldn’t click well, and with the make-believe creatures and spells and odd names JK Rowling added into the mix, my head was spinning. Listening to it slowed me down enough to understand what was going on. It was nice. My mom is a pretty swell gal.

Fast forward a bit, I picked up the first Harry Potter again a couple years back for old time’s sake. And then the second. And the third. And I fell in love with the series for what seemed like the first time. Reading it as an adult is a completely different experience than reading/listening as a child. Ten-year-old me was enthralled by the magic in each installment. Twenty-nine-year-old me was floored by the way every book got a little darker, a little more serious. There was so much I didn’t pick up on the first go around.

Let me geek out for just a second.

Yule Ball. 2018.
Hi, my name’s Manda and I’m a Hufflepuff. Sorting hat said twice I belonged in Gryffindor, but if Harry can choose his house than so can I. I’m dating a Slytherin. My best friend is a Ravenclaw. I have a house elf that is well loved and treated better than anyone else in our home. His name is Dobby (no relation).

He doesn’t listen as well as a house elf though

I could keep going, but I’ll try to keep this one short. So many people have read this book already, so if you haven’t by now, this review probably won’t sway you either way. I’ll just go over a few points where I had to put the book down and think a while.

The Dumbledore Reveal
If the reader is anything like me, they had to take long breaks in book six during the emotional time that was Dumbledore’s final moments. I loved him. I thought nothing but good about him. He seemed so wise, so caring, so interested in helping Harry be the best he could be and mentoring him when needed.
And then book seven happened.
The Deathly Hallows took Dumbledore, wadded him up in a little ball, and shoved him in a toilet. Then, it took a gigantic shit all over the top of him.
And it did it all in the name of the greater good.
I had lots of strong feelings on this, as you can probably tell. But, despite that, I don’t disagree or hate on Rowling for doing it. I think it runs along the same lines as you should never meet your heroes. From a distance, Dumbledore seemed almost godlike in his wisdom and strength and love. But after he dies and the truth comes out, he’s not so godlike after all. Like any human, he has flaws, and his were pretty major in my ever so humble (and shitty) opinion. BUT! I don’t think he ever did anything with ill intent. I truly believe that he believed the way he handled everything was the best way to do it. He sort of runs along the lines of chaotic good. He doesn’t care who he hurts along the way, so long as that in the long run, it was for the best. He doesn’t hate Harry. He’s not priming him for war and death and nothing beyond that. I think he really did care about him and his well-being, but his shady way of keeping secrets and never being straightforward with Harry or anyone else didn’t help his cause. He was a bottom line man, and the bottom line was that for everyone else to live in harmony, Harry would have to die. Not a bad man, not a good man, but a man.
This Passage
“Tell me one last thing,” said Harry. “Is this real? Or has it been happening inside my head?”
Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry’s ears even though the bright mist was descending again, obscuring his figure.
“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”
Oh. My god.
So, of course, we can take this in the literal sense; that Harry is talking to Dumbledore in his head yadda yadda. But this line means so much more to me than that.
On one end of the spectrum, the same can be said of mental illness. It’s in your head, of course, yes, great, grand, wonderful, but that doesn’t mean that it’s not REAL. Depression is a thing I deal with on my day-to-day, and even though it is in my head, it is real to me. Anxiety is in your head, but it still affects you. It’s invisible, you cannot see it, you cannot touch it, but it’s in your head, so it’s real.
On the other end, it can be said of fiction in general. When Dumbledore died at the end of the sixth book and made me bawl for fifty plus pages, it was not real. He is not real. But, in the pages, he is. He felt like a living, breathing person, and I felt his death the same as I would a person I knew. When Harry found out all the bad after his death, about his family and secret sister, about his plan for Harry, I felt betrayed, angry, hurt, that this person, this make-believe person, would lie to me like this. Good books make you feel, and the worlds inside the pages feel real to you, even if the rest of the world can’t see it.
I dunno, dude. I just loved this line. I had to flip the pages and breathe a little bit before I could go to the final battle. Dumbledore, man. I loved him. Then hated him. Then simply accepted him.
Snape, Snape, Severus Snape
God. Damn. It.
Reading this entire series knowing the crucial role Snape played, I picked up on a lot that I don’t think I would have if I experienced it firsthand this read through. One point that really sticks out for me was from I believe book six? Maybe the end of five? Voldemort is back, and Snape runs off with the rest of the Death Eaters, and he won’t let Harry cast an unforgivable curse. He stops him every time, telling him to stay down. First go through, this could definitely be seen as a thing where he just wants to get away and stopping Harry is the most logical thing to do. But, and this is just my take (and it could totally be wrong or right because it’s been a while since I’ve read that part so bear with me here), I think Snape was trying to save Harry. He didn’t want him to cast the curse, and it wasn’t for Snape’s own good. He knew Harry had never done anything like that before, and he didn’t want him to carry the guilt on his shoulders. He was trying to spare him.
I feel for Snape, I really do. He was forced into a bad situation, playing sides and keeping secrets, all in the name of the greater good (side eyeing you HARD Dumbledore). He doesn’t really want to be with the Death Eaters, but he has no choice. He has to keep up appearances, get on the Dark Lord’s good side. At the same time, he doesn’t really want to be responsible for keeping Harry safe. The boy just serves as a painful reminder of what could have been but what never would be. It doesn’t help that he looks and acts like his father, but with the added pain of having his mother’s eyes. He doesn’t like Harry, but in his own way, he loves him.
That being said, I can’t pretend he doesn’t have his own flaws on this one. He doesn’t love Harry for Harry’s sake, but for his own. It’s the last piece of Lily that he’ll ever have. When she died, he didn’t care about James or Harry, only her, only that she was dead. Which I get it, I understand, he hated James and he hated that James won her and he didn’t, but like…come on, dude. There’s a time and place, and when they’re both dead on the floor, maybe put aside your differences for a hot minute? Maybe care about the little baby who lost their family and is forced to live in a freaking closet for half his life? Maybe show a little bit of humanity?
That also being said, I cared more for him by the end than for Dumbledore. I dunno, I guess because Snape was straight up about how he hated James and didn’t care much for a lot about Harry, but he loved and wanted Lily. Dumbledore played everyone along even when he didn’t have to.

So, how about that ending? Who was your favorite character? What house do you belong to?? Geek out with me. My inbox is always open.

Hey you! Yeah, you! Kid, you like roller coasters?

Ya want some candy? Photo by Daria Obymaha on Pexels.com

Well, then do I got something for you.

Was that a stupid enough of an intro for this? Probably. But in all seriousness: Joe Hill. More importantly, Joe Hill’s short story collection, 20^th Century Ghosts. This book has fifteen stories that range anywhere from terrifying to heartwarming to just plain sad.

This is why I love Joe Hill.

I feel like the best way to do this is to choose my favorite and least favorite story. Otherwise this will go on for thousands and thousands of words, and, let’s be real, neither one of us have the time or energy to go through that. 😉

So, Pop Art. The first sentence begins, “My best friend when I was twelve was inflatable.” I’m thinking, alright, cool, crazy kid with a blow-up doll, or maybe not even necessarily crazy, but definitely lonely. An imaginary friend story. Those are fun. But that’s when things get interesting and Hill forces me to think outside the box.

First of all, the inflatable friend isn’t imaginary. He’s real. He goes to school, other kids acknowledge him, and he’s able to communicate with others via a whiteboard and some crayons. Him being inflatable isn’t a metaphor for some kind of ailment or disease or anything like that. He’s 100% full of air; no organs, no openings (save for the spots where he can take in more air), so no mouth. If he isn’t careful, he can float away. His parents are not inflatable. They are normal everyday humans who eat and talk and function like anyone else. He is not adopted. He was just born that way.

When I accepted this fact, the rest of the story was enjoyable, and rather sad. The protagonist of the story is kind of an outcast with a bad home life. His mother is gone and his father doesn’t want much to do with him. He befriends Art (the inflatable kid) at school when a couple of bullies are after him. After that day, they hang out at school and at each other’s houses, until the protagonist’s father gets a dog and things get a bit tense at his house, so they instead hang around Art’s house.

I don’t want to give the whole story away because I think you should read it yourself. It’s funny and sad and heartwarming and frightening all at the same time. I may or may not have cried at the end of it. It’s a great story about what a person would be willing to do for their best friend. Ahhh I love it.

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My Father’s Mask. Now, I can’t say that I hated this one. It was good for what it was. I was tense the whole time I was reading it; the story has an uneasy feel, like there’s something under the surface that it’s not letting on.

The short of it is that a boy named Jack goes with his parents on a trip to this cabin and he doesn’t really want to go. The mom plays a game with him and makes it out to be an adventure and tells him that he can’t be seen by anyone or else they will come to get him. The kid is too old for these kinds of games (I believe he’s a teenager?), but he plays along anyway. Cut to the cabin. There are a ton of masks laying around and hanging on the walls and just everywhere you look, there’s a mask. If you thought the parents were acting off before, they really act off now. They wear a mask, and insist that he wears a mask, too. There’s almost a taboo sexual feel to the whole thing? Like, the kid wants to leave the cabin because he wants to let them do their thing without having to be a part of it. He goes into the woods to gather some wood and gets lost, but he meets a kid who he thought he saw the night before who makes him uneasy, so he runs and hides. Then he meets two other kids who offer to answer one question if he beats them in a card game with ambiguous rules.

Confused yet?

A lot happens in this story, but it’s all rather vague. I still don’t know what exactly happened in the cabin, or in the woods, or when he gets back to the cabin. Everything feels off and uneasy. The entire time I read this one, I had my head in my hand and my face scrunched up the way, as if screwing myself up would help me understand it better.

That being said, I liked it. It scared me, and I had no idea what was going on. I don’t know if that was purposeful or if I was missing some major plot point, but either way, it fucking worked. I felt like I was in the woods with Jack, but he left me behind, and several weeks later I still can’t find my way out.

Have you read 20^th Century Ghosts? What was your favorite story in it? And (more importantly for me anyway) did you understand My Father’s Mask??

Tag: good book

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