The Spoils of Story

Before you read this, please note that in this post, I give away significant plot details on a number of stories that, if you have not read or seen them, then first, shame on you, and second, be aware. 

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Still with me?

The other night, friends of my wife’s had dropped in for a spell, and talk turned to Harry Potter as one of them saw my copy of the Half-Blood Prince sitting beside me on the sofa.  One friend then popped the question—do you think Dumbledore’s really dead? 

Well, Potter author J. K. Rowling answered that for us nearly two weeks ago.  The answer is a decisive yes.  Personally, I hadn’t ever bothered to question the matter—Rowling went through significant lengths to cement this fact into the narrative.  Still, some “fans” have cried betrayal and now threaten a boycott of the next book.  No doubt Roddenberry met with similar vitriol when Spock died at the end of Star Trek II.   

My real concern, however, was that my wife, sitting not three feet away and who has not read the books, was spoiled the outcome of the series’ sixth volume.  I’m just happy to have been able to keep her in the dark as long as I had.  Last year, someone in line with us waiting to get into see the Goblet of Fire let this detail slip, and thankfully my wife had missed it. 

So I’ve found myself thinking.  Does knowing the ending really spoil the fun?  Well, yes—but only to a point, and even then it depends on the story.  I doubt I’d find any argument in regard to, say, The Sixth Sense, The Usual Suspects, The Shawshank Redemption, or even Life is Beautiful.

But consider something like Star Wars.  I was little when I first experienced the original, so it came as a mild shock to see Obi Wan sacrifice himself at the hands of Vader.  Much later, upon first viewing the bloated phenomenon that was Episode I, I had a feeling that Qui Gon’s graceful presence would not last for very long either.     

Many stories follow some kind of archetypal formula, and Harry Potter is no different.  Many writers and critics had stated from very early on that Dumbledore would have to fade away at some point in order to allow Harry to go the last leg of the journey alone.  We see similar events in The Hobbit, as well as The Lord of the Rings.  When I think of Gethsemane, I can sort of find this kind of formula at work in the Gospel. 

The heroes of myth usually grow along a defined trajectory.  Joseph Campbell articulated these for us in The Hero with a Thousand Faces, a model which George Lucas used to create Star Wars, and which Rowling appears to use for Harry as well.  You read enough and you can begin to see these elements play out, and for me, it never ruins the experience.  The true test of an author’s ingenuity, I believe, is in the color he or she uses to paint the journey. 

So when my wife does sit down to read the Half-Blood Prince, I believe she will find that her knowledge of the end did not tarnish the pleasure of the story.  After all, the story isn’t finished.  (Some of these “fans” need to get a grip)

(Hat Tips to: Fantasy Fiction for Christians and The Leaky Cauldron)