This morning, I put the finishing touches of the second draft of my novel, "Montrose & Westheimer."  It clocks in at just under 59,000 words, and I’ll keep revising it but not at the current pace.  All that’s really left before I send it to publishers/agents is cleaning up–formatting, proofreading, etc.  Expect the numbers on the rejection counter to increase shortly.

I’m up way too late, but that’s life…

I recently had a very interesting conversation about the characteristics of magical realism–a genre, it should be noted, that is often applied to literature by critics rather than by authors.*  The distinction between fantasy and magical realism is shaky, but a work is generally put in the latter genre if it is set in the real world (or in a realistic motif) but interacts with fantastic elements.  These fantastic elements can be magical, supernatural, preternatural, or mythological (not a complete list, mind you).

 Harry Potter, it was argued in this conversation, should be considered magical realism** because each novel begins and ends with the "real world."  We pondered this idea for a while, and I’ve been pondering it ever since.  I’ve heard the HP-as-MR argument before, but I’ve never been completely convinced by it because Rowling relies (how’s that for alliteration?) on too many stock fantasy conventions to be considered magical realism.

It occurred to me tonight, however, that the interaction between the muggle world and magical world in HP is more pervasive than I had considered before.  In the early books (at least the first two, possibly the third), the two worlds are, for the most part separated completely.  Their only interaction is by way of contrast.  In the third book, though, we begin to see wrinkles in the magical world’s system–notably, we meet Cornelius Finch.  The fourth book features a great deal of politics–the Crouch family and the house elfs, for example.  The central conflict of the fifth book is entirely political, and there’s a very odd paragraph in the beginning in which Harry reflects that the intrusion of the dementor has broken the barrier between the two worlds.  The sixth book also features a fair amount of politics, though they on the personal rather than national level (consider the Slug club, for example).

The point being, of course, that the central conflict of these books tends to be influenced by (directly or indirectly) the extent to which the magic world is similar to the muggle world.  In most fantasy books, the magical world has a distinct society with its own set of problems.  Bureaucracy, cronyism, and subtle racism are not typically problems of fantasy novels; or, if they are, the problems are distinctly other-worldly.  The magic world in HP, on the other hand, has problems which parallel the muggle world.

Of course, the whole issue may be irrelevant depending on how one feels about the magical realism genre.  I have a deep suspicion of any label for the fantastic that is not part of the SF/F/H triad (triumvarate?).  More and more, I think people want to invent new labels for SF/F/H because they want it to be "acceptable," whether for personal or academic reasons.  I tend to feel that magical realism is distinct enough as a movement or genre that we can talk about it with some legitimacy.  My only concern is that the powers that be should accept HP into the fold of magical realism if, in fact, it meets the criteria set up for the genre.

As for Rowling, she probably just thinks of herself as a writer.  That’s probably best, in the end. 

*Neil Gaiman, I think, is one of the exemplars of magical realism, but he’s never identified himself as such. 

**By scholars who hold that magical realism exists, that is; he urged, essentially for consistency.

Traveling grad student… I write this from Austin-Bergstrom International Airport.  I will soon board a flight to New Orleans, where I’ll be presenting a paper on Jorge Luis Borges at the College English Association conference.  I’ll be returning tomorrow evening to Austin–no one-day-only trip, this time.  My presentation is at 9:30 a.m., and the earliest flight to New Orleans arrives at 8:50 a.m.  The clincher, for me, was that the cost was essentially the same whether or not I stayed in a hotel room because the cab fare would be so much (staying in a hotel room, I’ll be able to take the shuttle).  The moral is to plan out the expenses beforehand.  I’ll be spending about the same amount of money, but I’ll have twice the sanity when I arrive.

Airports are like little cities… Or, more accurately, they’re essentially microcosms of the cities that create them.  A city’s attitude about itself and toward its economic situation is effectively shown in the businesses that occupy its airport.  That’s why, for example, Houston and Dallas-Fort Worth are filled with corporate chains.  They have staked their economy on attracting large, stable corporations to their city and, by extension, to their airport.  Austin’s airport, on the other hand, is mostly occupied by local businesses.  A little to my left is a mini-Book People (for those of you not familiar with it, it’s the most awesome bookstore ever created–and the largest independent in Texas).  A little farther away is Mangia’s Pizza (one of the best pizzerias ever).  A newsstand near me has the Austin Chronicle’s logo above it (to be fair, the Chronicle is corporately owned, but it’s still alternative and hyper-local–much like the Houston Press).  It’s a testament to Austin’s good city planning that they’ve put so much faith in local businesses rather than in corporate giants.

I don’t understand how people work while they travel… All around me, people are looking at charts, spreadsheets, schedules.  They’re calling work contacts on their cell phones right up to the call for boarding.  I don’t get it.  I can never work while traveling.  Indeed, I have books 1 and 2 of Harry Potter in my bag so that I’ll be relaxed during the flight.

I really dislike Bill Donahue.  When I first heard of the Catholic League, I thought it was a great idea–an organization dedicated to combatting misinformation.  An organization that would keep people accountable for how they portray Catholics in public discourse; ideally, an organization similar to the Anti-Defamation League.  I found out quickly that the Catholic League is a membership-charging soapbox for Bill Donahue to bitch about whomever he dislikes or to laud whomever he adores.

But my dislike grew in stages.  I was uneasy with him when he canonized Mel Gibson  ("Saint Mel.  That’s what he is in the eyes of millions of Americans.  But for some, he’s Satan") via press release, without the benefit of a commemorative mass (or, indeed, the death of the "saint" in question).

But then he crossed the line.

I’m not a rabid South Park fan.  I watch the new episodes, and they’re mostly hit or miss.  Donahue can criticize them all he wishes, but he should not have called them "little whores":

The ultimate hypocrite is not Comedy Central—that’s their decision not to show the image of Muhammad or not—it’s Parker and Stone. Like little whores, they’ll sit there and grab the bucks. They’ll sit there and they’ll whine and they’ll take their shot at Jesus. That’s their stock and trade.

It wasn’t just that he completely missed the point that Parker/Stone were making (a point that, oddly enough, favored Donahue’s mini-crusade)–it was that he was so cavalier with his language that he would actually use the word "whores."  I guess I’m a little sensitive (okay, a lot sensitive)* about such things, but it doesn’t discount my anger.  The word "whore" is offensive and should not be flung around as a casual insult by a supposedly Catholic leader.

Since then, nothing Donahue does can surprise me, even the his epitome-of-asshole remarks about Mark Foley’s sexual abuse by a priest:

As for the alleged abuse, it’s time to ask some tough questions. First, there is a huge difference between being groped and being raped, so which was it Mr. Foley? Second, why didn’t you just smack the clergyman in the face? After all, most 15-year-old teenage boys wouldn’t allow themselves to be molested. So why did you? 

Needless to say, I was delighted by the most recent episode of South Park, which is effectively summarized in (surprise!) a Catholic League press release** as follows:

Bill Donohue appeared as one of the cartoon characters, along with a figure of Pope Benedict XVI. The Easter script depicted Donohue chastising the pope for being “too soft.” Donohue then takes over as pope. When a Jesus figure appears, he has both the pope and Jesus arrested. After Jesus is killed by Kyle, he resurrects and kills Donohue.

I especially like the moment when cartoon-Donahue calls the kids "whores" while wearing the pope’s vestments–a nice way of showing both Donahue’s conception of his mission as quasi-pope and the disconnect between his organization’s intentions and his abusive rhetoric.  Which brings up the real problem: Donahue has turned the Catholic League into just another loudmouth advocacy group that the public can discount as crazy.  In other words, he does far more harm than good.

A closing example will explain: in the same issue of Catalyst that printed Donahue’s "little whores" remark are two complaints about the war on Easter (maybe it’s just a "military action against Easter").  In one, Donahue mobilizes his base to…wait for it…flood a public office with eggs because an Easter bunny was evicted.   That’s right–the Easter bunny is essential to the faith, and must be protected.  The second complaint is much like the first: the Catholic League tracks the transfer of Easter egg hunts to "Spring" egg hunts.  It baffles me that Donahue would defend the ridiculously untenable connection between cultural Easter elements (bunnies and painted eggs***) and the religious Easter holiday.  It proves to me that he does it for shock value and, perhaps, self-aggrandizement.

*For grammarians who notice the error: You must learn the rules so that you can break them. 

**The organization issues so many that the archive is broken down by quarter.  Most consist of a short paragraph for context followed by whatever asinine comment Donahue said that day.

***I’m aware that the egg is a Christian symbol, but the current practice (I won’t call it a tradition) of watercoloring hard-boiled eggs and searching for them is nothing more than cultural, commercial Easter.

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