Let The Past Die. Kill It If You Have To. Engelsk og AT 2018

Reklamebranchen har altid handlet om at udfordre det gængse for at fange vores opmærksomhed.
Det gør litteraturen og resten af populærkulturen også.

Det næstsidste AT nogensinde er over os, og som så ofte set før er emnet bredt. Meget af årets tema om ”Alternativer – ideer til forandring og fornyelse” ligger glimrende i tråd med det seneste årtis modeord som disruption, hyperkompleksitet, omstillingsparathed og nok så meget andet. Ved første øjekast vil de oplagte emner ofte været noget som teknologiske landvinger og voldsomme politiske forandringer; men som altid vil jeg her plædere for mere fiktion og nogle lidt skæve vinkler, mens det hele nok bærer præg af min fagkombination (historie som hovedfag) og alvorligt nørdede tendenser. Here we go…

Ingen AT i engelsk uden The Hunger Games: Jeg har sagt det før og siger det gerne igen: Få ting dækker så mange af Klafkis epokale nøgleproblemer (spørg din lærer, hvis du aldrig har hørt om dem) som The Hunger Games, og som værk er både film og bog udtryk for en mængde alternativer. Som dystopi er der tale om et skræmmende alternativ til vores verden, Katniss Everdeen er på mange måder et alternativ til opfattelsen af kønsroller og heltetyper, og på udgivelsestidspunktet var hun i hvert fald et kærkomment alternativ til andre kvindelige hovedpersoner, som utrøsteligt satte sig apatisk i hjørnet, hvis kæresten gik. På et lidt mere metaagtigt plan blev det gennembruddet for Jennifer Lawrence, som sørger for ikke altid at leve op til normerne for kvindelige Hollywood-stjerner. Endeligt stiller seriens oprørsbevægelse i District 13 og især President Coin os over for et interessant spørgsmål: Hvor alternativt er alternativet egentligt, og får i reel fornyelse ud af et magtskifte? Dette fører os videre til en anden tendens i nutidens populærkultur.

Ned med det gamle! Fiktion – især den gode af slagsen – er oftest en afspejling af noget velkendt fra vores eget samfund, og lige som der er politiske bevægelser, som vil alt andet end status quo, fordi det åbenbart må være en forbedring, ser vi også dette i opdigtede fortællinger. Interessant nok kan den revolutionære, der bare vil ændre alt ved den etablerede orden, være såvel helt som skurk. Tris i Divergent vil afskaffe det noget nær kastebaserede samfund, hun lever i, til fordel for de omstillingsparate, udstødte og generelt mindre elitære, lige som hun selv ønsker at være et alternativ til såvel samfundet som sin egen familie. I den helt anden retning stammer citatet fra dette indlægs overskrift fra vores alle sammens Darth Emo, Kylo Ren, i de nye Star Wars-film, som er klar til at dræbe alt og alle, så længe det bare kan føre til noget nyt. Spøjst nok kæmper både filmens producere og den heroiske Resistance for at vende tilbage til en idé om noget tidligere, hvor alting bare fungerede. Her er forandringen at vende tilbage til en tryggere tid, og når verden er i kaos, er det jo ikke helt uforståeligt. Star Wars-renæssancen kan i øvrigt også ses på gaden til amerikanske demonstrationer mod styret, hvor fiktionen bliver en form for alternativt samlingspunkt.

Nye elementer i politik: Vi kommer ikke uden om Trump som et af de store alternativer. Det gælder selvfølgelig i hele retorikken, hvor diplomati om potentiel atomkrig pludseligt kan føres på twitter gennem en sammenligning af størrelsen på ens affyringsknapper, men også i ønsket om at ændre samfundet radikalt, lidt i stil med sidste afsnit. I et interview fra 2014 er Trump citeret for at have sagt “You know what solves it?” Trump said of America’s alleged troubles during a 2014 interview. “When the economy crashes, when the country goes to total hell and everything is a disaster. Then you’ll have a [chuckles], you know, you’ll have riots to go back to where we used to be when we were great.” Steve Bannon, Trumps tidligere øverste rådgiver, skulle efter sigende også have udtalt ” I’m a Leninist. Lenin wanted to destroy the state, and that’s my goal, too. I want to bring everything crashing down, and destroy all of today’s establishment.” På den modsatte fløj har transkønnede politikere som Danica Roem rykket ved opfattelserne af, hvilken identitet man kan have som politiker, mens sports sammenhæng med politik kunne ses ved de rasende diskussioner, knælende NFL-spillere har affødt i forbindelse med spørgsmålene om nationalisme og politibrutalitet. Twitter har også givet skuespillere som Alyssa Milano og Mark Ruffalo en platform, hvor deres budskaber kan nå ud til millioner af tilhængere og modstandere. Det politiske landskab er hastigt og voldsomt under forandring, og det er værd at kigge på.

Alternativ ”levende” underholdning: Tilbage til den trygge nostalgibølge i fiktionen: Nu afdøde Michael Crichton skabte to ting, som nu er blevet kæmpesucceser: Romanen Jurassic Park, hvor filmene stadig skovler penge ind, og filmen Westworld, der blev i skikkelse af en noget nyere serie er blevet et hit hos såvel publikum som anmeldere. Begge stiller spændende spørgsmål om, hvad mennesket egentligt kan tillade sig, og hvad liv er. Hvad sker der, når den almindelige underholdning ikke er nok, og vi begynder at bruge liv som alternativ? Mit hovedformål med dette afsnit er dog at påpege, at sidste år virkede kombinationen af engelsk og naturvidenskabelige fag exceptionelt godt: Den naturvidenskabelige metode blev brugt til at forstærke en kritisk analyse af et budskab (f.eks. katastrofefilm eller debatten om olieboringer i nationalparker) ved at undersøge, om argumenterne holdt. Det bør absolut afprøves igen.

Nye fortælle- og medieformer: Måden, vi formidler på, er også blevet forandret på det seneste og bliver ved med at blive det. YouTube-stjerner viser, at man sagtens kan blive kendt på og rig af at rende rundt og prikke til en død mand i en japansk selvmordsskov eller lignende tåbeligheder, og at man ikke behøver have en uddannelse eller et stort produktionsselskab bag sig for at blive til noget stort. Postmoderne gendigtninger som Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, Alice in Brexitland og William Shakespeare’s Star Wars: Verily, A New Hope leverer alternative fortolkninger af diverse klassikere af mere eller mindre obskure årsager, hvilket naturligvis er en diskussion værd. Endvidere har streamings bragende succes gjort, at vi ikke længere nærstuderer programmet eller TV-avisen for at finde ud af, hvad vi kan se i aften, men derimod kan vælge mellem et eller andet udvalg på den platform, vi nu foretrækker. Men hvad betyder det egentligt for vores hjerner, at alting er on-demand, og hvor meget kultur går vi glip af, fordi det ikke ligger på Netflix?
De fleste forslag i dette indlæg handler om nogle højaktuelle problemstillinger, men det at ændre kulturen er jo på absolut ingen måder noget nyt. Grunge var et modsvar til lalleglad og poleret hair metal, Siegfried Sassoon og Wilfred Owen tog et opgør med de traditionelle måder at fremstille krig på, Charles Dickens, Robert Louis Stevenson, Lewis Carroll og Bram Stoker forsøgte at vise en anden side af Victoria-tidens facade, og Carpe Diem-digterne prøvede at levere et alternativ til det puritanske livssyn. Hvert af disse ville være oplagte at studere sammen med historie, og når de er klassikere, har vi måske allerede lidt et svar på årets AT-formulerings krævede spørgsmål om, hvorvidt alternativet til det eksisterende førte til varige konsekvenser.

Husk: Vi er ved vejs ende, og derfor vil jeg blot minde om, at engelsk er skønt at have med, så længe man husker at foretage noget analyse, og det handler om den engelsksprogede verdens kultur. Du har ikke brugt engelsks metoder, blot fordi du har læst noget på engelsk, og hvis du skal i gang med at reflektere over fag- og metodevalg er det en god idé at spørge dig selv: Kunne du have løst din problemformulering ved at udskifte engelsk med dansk?

Good huntin’, yinz.

"When in Doubt - Kill" A Closer Inspection of Hans Christian Andersen's "The Tinder-Box"

Author's note: I wrote this for a laugh and deliberately inserted an error. My purpose with this piece was to exaggerate and use some rather heavy-handed sarcasm just to show that particular style to my students. In other words: Enjoy this and do not take it more seriously than you have to.

The underdog. Most readers in our culture love him, this lone wolf who fights the authorities and wins in spite of having all odds against him. At first glance, the protagonist in Hans Christian Andersen’s legendary fairy tale “The Tinder-Box” from 1835 is the typical underdog. This soldier manages to achieve all of his goals: Incredible wealth, a significantly higher social status and a beautiful wife. On the surface, this is a happy ending that lets all of us believe in (or at least hope for) an opportunity to improve our ordinary lives. However, a closer look indicates that “The Tinder-Box” may actually be a warning against the dangers of human greed and the effects that war might have on a soldier’s mind. This is what this essay will explore.

From the very first sentence, the perceptive reader may deduce that something is wrong: “A soldier came marching along the high road: ‘Left, right—left, right.’ He had his knapsack on his back, and a sword at his side; he had been to the wars, and was now returning home.” Not only does this break with the “home-away-home structure” so typical for fairy tales, it shows something rather unusual: If this soldier is returning from a finished war and on his own, why is he still armed? Should he not have handed his sword back at the end of hostilities? An obvious answer could be that military life disagreed with the unnamed soldier and he has now become a deserter or some other form of traitor. One might think that he left the army because he was a pacifist, but it is quickly revealed that he has no problem with violence. After returning from the hollow tree with mountains of gold, the soldier bluntly asks the old, somewhat handicapped witch why she wants the tinder-box, even though he promised to find it for her. When the witch does not produce an acceptable answer, the soldier promptly beheads her. That escalated quickly, as they say online. Feeling little remorse for just slaughtering an old lady, the soldier puts “all his money in her apron and slung it on his back like a bundle, put the tinderbox in his pocket, and walked off to the nearest town.” His expert use of a blade and lack of hesitation in looting a corpse hint at a dark and gruesome personality, one that would not even be welcome on the battlefields of the 19^th century. It is indeed possible that this is what made the soldier leave his unit, as his temper and general behaviour were unwanted elements in the armed forces. This clearly is neither a peace-loving man nor a hapless creature suffering from PTSD, but rather a cold-blooded killer.

Apart from a violent streak, the scene with the hollow tree also reveals the soldier’s ever-growing greed. No matter what he receives, he wants more. In the caverns with the dogs, copper coins are replaced with silver ones, which he in turn discards in favour of gold. The soldier clearly cannot handle the thought that something should not be his, hence the slaying of the old witch over something as apparently mundane as a tinder-box. When arriving in the town, the soldier believes that material wealth will solve all of his problems and starts spending money left and right: “Now he was rich, had fine clothes, and many friends, who all declared he was a fine fellow and a real gentleman, and all this gratified him exceedingly.” Coming from a poor background, our protagonist tries to avoid his inferiority complexes by dressing and acting like someone from the upper classes of society, but all of that is on a superficial level. Nothing inside of him changes, and although he generously gives money to the poor – possibly a sign of some degree of remorse – his greed does not go anywhere. The right clothes, rooms and friends are not enough for him, he wants more.

The next target of the soldier’s lust is the local princess. Upon learning that “No one but the king himself can pass in or out, for there has been a prophecy that she will marry a common soldier,” his greed commands him to have her in some way. Clearly not one that likes witnesses, the soldier orders one of his dogs to fetch the princess for him – not one, but three times, since nothing can satisfy his desire. When he sees the sleeping princess “The soldier could not help kissing her, true soldier as he was.” Since this “true soldier” has recently killed a harmless old woman for no particular reason, it is difficult to believe that he would stop at kissing the princess , and “kissing” her – combined with the later statement that he “might have her for a wife” may be Andersen’s euphemism for some other kind of sexual activity (probably with the dog in the same room looking on). Earlier in the tale, the soldier could not see the consequences of spending his money at an alarming rate, and here he is actually dependent on the dog cleaning up his mess when it puts an X on every door to confuse the princess’s worried family. Obviously, he is capable of planning no further ahead than to what he wants right now.

Nevertheless, the soldier is caught and – quite understandably – sentenced to death for his crimes. Since he apparently has lost what conscience he had, the soldier decides that this is the perfect time to overthrow the government. By calling in his supernatural dogs, the royal couple are quickly killed in a brutal manner along with all of the best educated men of the kingdom. Unsurprisingly, this scares the rest of the people, who immediately decide to save themselves by giving the psychotic and violent soldier the king’s crown along with the princess. You would think that the princess would be devastated by being forced to marry the killer of her parents, but according to the text, becoming queen is “very pleasing to her.” Either the princess is no less greedy than her new husband or she suffers from the so-called Stockholm Syndrome and has fallen in love with her kidnapper. Since this story is told almost exclusively from the soldier’s point of view, it is of course also possible that she lies and just tries to stay alive a little longer.

Previously in the story, our protagonist did hand out money to the poor, but as king he only thinks of himself. His first decision (again, a greedy one) is to have a seven-day-long wedding feast, which certainly costs a lot of money. In addition, we also see what could be a growing paranoia when he insists on having his dogs sit at the table for protection, where they “stared with all their eyes.” This is a chilling image, and naturally nobody in their right mind would dare question the rule of this increasingly deranged soldier.

Andersen’s message is cleverly disguised, but a closer look reveals it: Greed may actually allow you to have shallow friends and an apparently prestigious career, but “The Tinder-Box” reveals the terrible cost to everyone else. What appeared to be a somewhat well-working kingdom now has a new king whose past includes betrayal, murder, kidnapping and recklessly spending money on entertainment and fancy clothes. Living in a society like that can only be described as terrible, and this story reminds us to think about the consequences of our decisions and not let money and greed cloud our judgment. Sadly, this message is as relevant today as it was almost 200 years ago.

An Analysis of Wilfred Owen's "Exposure"

An Analysis of "Exposure" by Wilfred Owen

In Virginia Woolf’s classic novel To the Lighthouse (1927), the death of one of the characters during World War I is described in the following short, nasty and brutal manner: “A shell exploded. Twenty or thirty young men were blown up in France, among them Andrew Ramsay, whose death, mercifully, was instantaneous.” Just like the explosion itself, this passage is over in the blink of an eye, leaving nothing but death and grief. Although it is tempting to focus on these brief and violent situations, war is, according to an old saying, long periods of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror; how can literature describe boredom while still being compelling? This was what iconic Great War poet Wilfred Owen attempted to do in the poem “Exposure” from 1918 in which a frontline soldier, shivering in the cold, begins to ask questions and long for home. In this paper, this poem will be analyzed and interpreted, focusing on the message and atmosphere and how these are supported by rhyme, rhythm, and imagery.

The title “Exposure” obviously is a term that refers to being exposed to the elements and at the mercy of the weather – in this particular case the cold as an enemy. However, it could also hint that the soldiers are “naked” and vulnerable or that all of their thoughts are exposed over the course of the poem. The latter might be true as the reader follows the thoughts of the speaker, who in this case is in the first person plural, as it may be seen in “we keep awake because the night is silent”[1] and “we turn back to our dying.”[2] Using this simple trick, Owen turns the speaker into a common identity and a voice on behalf of all of the soldiers, and the message is anything but positive.

As noted above, the soldiers are “awake because the night is silent,” something that underlines how surreal everything is compared to everyday life – and perhaps even to the normal perception of war. Of the eight stanzas in the poem, numbers 1, 3, 4 and 8 all end with the same line “But nothing happens,” which emphasizes the point about boredom or at least a lack of action with “but” signifying that something should happen. The German enemy is almost invisible, and the rumbling of artillery is “Far off, like a dull rumour of another war.”[3] Clearly, no combat is about to take place; yet in spite of these “moments of sheer terror” being far away, the soldiers still face a terrifying foe: Nature. It is ironic that this great inspiration for generations of poets should ever be an enemy, but here it is actually personified. Lines such as “Merciless iced east winds,”[4] “mad gusts tugging on the wire”[5] and “Pale flakes with fingering stealth come feeling for our faces”[6] show nature as an unforgiving and unpredictable force chasing the soldiers, who are forced to hide in holes like animals. A particularly noteworthy line is when a personified dawn amasses “her melancholy army, attacks once more in ranks on shivering ranks of grey.”[7] Here, a new day only brings gloom in the form of clouds clad in the same grey colour as the unseen German army. It is quite understandable that the speaker chooses to ask the simple question “What are we doing here?”[8] In an attempt to find solace, the soldiers let their thoughts (or “ghosts,”[9] showing that they are nearer death than life) wander home. However, there they only find “Shutters and doors, all closed: on us the doors are closed,” meaning that there is no sympathy or understanding to find at home. In addition, the soldiers are so far removed from normal life that their only option, even in dreams, is to return to the battlefield, because only in that way may “kind fires burn.”[10] Nevertheless, the speaker shows how the soldiers lose faith in the line “For love of God seems dying.”[11] Indeed, in the final stanza, “His frost”[12] (i.e., God’s) has claimed the lives of several soldiers. The laconic ending of the poem, “But nothing happens,” shows how these deaths provoke no reaction even as their ghastly, icy eyes stare into eternity in a nightmarish fashion. All of this combined creates an atmosphere marked by uncertainty and nervousness where nature is the true, malevolent enemy in war, death is ignored, home is no longer a welcoming place and nobody cares about soldiers suffering a slow and agonizing death in the mud.

In order to make the slow, silent events in “Exposure” more vivid when read aloud, Owen uses a few literary devices such as similes and alliteration. Similes are efficient as a way of controlling the images in the reader’s mind, and one obvious example here is “the mad gusts tugging at the wire, like twitching agonies of men.”[13] Here, the personified madness of nature is likened to dying men stuck in the barbed wire, which underlines the aforementioned feeling of slow, painful death throughout the poem. Another simile (or at least comparison) is used to show that a burst from a machinegun is “less deadly than the air that shudders black with snow,”[14] where the contrast of black snow augments the feeling that something is wrong. Speaking of the machinegun, Owen cleverly creates alliteration: “Sudden successive flights of bullets streak the silence.”[15] When read aloud, the repeated use of s’es creates a sound reminiscent of bullets whistling past. This form of alliteration appears to be a typical trait for Owen since it can also be found in “Anthem for Doomed Youth” (“the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle”) and “The Last Laugh” (“The Bullets chirped – In vain! vain! vain!”). In every case, it transports the reader into the battlefield and its sounds.

Two additional aspects which add to the impression of something strange happening in “Exposure” are rhythm and rhyme. The poem has no consistent rhythm, which is consistent with its tense and insecure atmosphere; this is not Burton’s strictly and classically iambic “The Game,” in which the constant rhythm sounds like soldiers on the march forward. In “Exposure,” the thoughts darting back and forth are represented by a mix of iambs and trochees, with the most consistent line ironically being the machinegun fire: “Sudden successive flights of bullets streak the silence.” (The stressed syllables are marked in bold.) By beginning the line with a stressed syllable and using a trochaic rhythm, Owen starts with a sharp sound and creates a staccato-like diction much akin to the rattling of a machinegun. The rhyming, too, emphasizes the uneasy atmosphere of the poem; whereas normal pair- or cross rhyming creates a sense of completeness and fulfillment, Owen does something quite different: In every stanza, lines 1+4 and 2+3 end with words that share consonants, but have different vowels, such as “silent – salient” and “knive us – nervous.” This uncommon form of rhyming is called pararhyme and leaves the reader with an edgy and incomplete feeling. Obviously, the purpose of Owen is to leave the reader in in an insecure, nervous state much like the soldiers in the frozen foxholes. To achieve this end, the use of a highly unorthodox manner of rhyming forces the reader to rethink his or her perceptions of what poetry – and preferably war – is.

In conclusion, “Exposure” reflects Wilfred Owen’s famous words that his subject was “War, and the Pity of War.” In particular, this poem asks the reader to pity and understand the hapless soldiers, even in situations where normal forces of nature nonchalantly become greater enemies than the German war machine. However, this is neither a sarcastic, snarky remark like Sassoon’s “Does it matter?”  nor a sharp attack on warmongers as in Owen’s own “Parable of the Old Man and the Young;” in spite of its thoroughly revised composition, “Exposure” is simply a vivid description of life for millions of young men during a so-called quiet period without any battles taking place. Owen does not lash out angrily, but tries to remind the civilian population that soldiers are to be pitied even when no deaths are reported in the news of the war, asking them to keep their hearths and hearts warm and open to the young men far away from home. It is a plea for understanding that will ring out true as long as mankind continues to wage war on itself.

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[1] Stanza 1, l. 2.

[2] Stanza 6, l. 5.

[3] Stanza 2, l. 4.

[4] Stanza 1, l. 1.

[5] Stanza 2, l. 1.

[6] Stanza 5, l. 1.

[7] Stanza 3, ll. 3-4.

[8] Stanza 2, l. 5.

[9] Stanza 6, l. 1.

[10] Stanza 7, l. 1.

[11] Stanza 7, l. 5.

[12] Stanza 8, l. 1.

[13] Stanza 2, ll. 2-3.

[14] Stanza 4, l. 2.

[15] Stanza 4, l.1.

Engelsk og AT 2017: Forbudte skove og hærskarer af påskeliljer

Ved første øjekast sagde mange af mine elever, at årets AT-emne om ”Menneskets forhold til naturen” vel nærmest udelukkende lagde op til noget naturvidenskabeligt, diskussioner om klimapolitik og deslige. Nah. Engelsk kan heldigvis meget mere end det, hvilket jeg vil forsøge at vise nedenfor gennem en række tværfaglige emner og litteraturforslag. Meget af det er fiktionsbaseret, fordi det bare tit er det sjoveste.

Synet på naturen, og kan naturen tæmmes? (Fortrinsvist engelsk og historie)

Store dele af menneskets historie har handlet om at tæmme naturen, få noget civilisation ind i den og fjerne det decideret livsfarlige. De fleste kender historien om Lille Rødhætte, som er i sikkerhed derhjemme, i bedstemors hus eller på den menneskeskabte sti gennem skoven. Går hun ud i den utæmmede natur, eller inviterer bedstemor den indenfor, er man død. Det er vel først med industrialiseringen, man rigtigt begynder at tro, at man kan kontrollere alt det vilde, hvilket til gengæld fører til en modreaktion under Romantikken. Den samme bevægelse ser vi til dels i dag, hvor alt er så kontrolleret, at nogle unge tager ud i vildmarken for at dø i en bus, for nu at citere en tidligere kollega om filmen Into the Wild. Lad os få nogle eksempler på banen.

·         Romantikken: I ”I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud” skildrer William Wordsworth sit inspirerende møde med en flok påskeliljer, som hans hjerte danser med, mens Samuel Taylor Coleridge i sit ”Frost at Midnight” forsikrer sit spædbarn om, at det skal opfostres i naturen, hvor fantasien kan få frit løb, ikke i den by, hvor han selv voksede op og nærmest intet smukt kunne se. Dette er uden tvivl et modsvar til industrialiseringens gradvise indtog i naturen. Det omvendte ser vi hos Jane Austen, f.eks. i Emma, hvor alting er fint, mens man holder sig inden for de kontrollerede forhold og velplejede haver. Bevæger man sig ud i det utæmmede, er der risiko for at blive overfaldet eller på anden vis blive udsat for noget, man ikke kan styre. Som en kollega pointerede, kan det med at forsøge at kontrollere naturen også blive for meget, f.eks. som det ses i Frankenstein.

·         Spøjst nok ser vi lidt det samme som hos Austen i Harry Potter-serien. Uden for Hogwarts’ rare omgivelser ligger The Forbidden Forest, som er hjemsøgt af varulve (hvis vi kan tro på Draco), Voldemort på jagt efter enhjørningeblod, glubske edderkopper og aggressive kentaurer. Gad vide hvad de egentligt gjorde ved Umbridge, der var så traumatiserende? Under alle omstændigheder er det mere end risikabelt at bevæge sig derind, og et af Voldemorts yndlingssteder er en dyster grotte ved havet. Den store blæksprutte i søen virker godt nok til at være ret flink, og med de rigtige besværgelser kan øde områder være gode gemmesteder i Deathly Hallows, men man kan aldrig helt stole på naturen.

·         For at blive i fantasy-universet spiller naturen flere roller samtidig hos Tolkien. Hobbitterne bliver nær opslugt af Old Man Willow, Mirkwood gør det næsten af med de ellers hårdføre dværge, og et stenskred er tæt på at slå Bilbo ihjel. På den anden side kommer den lalleglade naturånd Tom Bombadil i sine gule støvler og redder hobbitterne, mens Sarumans forsøg på at udslette skovene for at holde sine maskiner i gang fører til en kraftig og sejrrig modreaktion fra Treebeard og de andre enter. Tolkiens holdning til industrialiseringen står vist ganske klart her.

·         Naturfolk: Fra ”half devil and half child” over ”noble savages” til Avatar – den vestlige kulturs møde med folkeslag ”i pagt med naturen” har båret præg af noget omskiftelige holdninger. En sammenligning af indianernes forhold til naturen hos den bortførte puritaner Mary Rowlandson (udgivet 1682) med senere værker som Dances With Wolves ville være en rigtigt god mulighed for at inddrage historisk kontekst for at forstå budskaberne. Emnet kunne også behandles med religion i stedet for historie.

·         Intet AT-emne og engelsk uden The HungerHHunger Games! I District 12 er der sat et delvist funktionelt hegn op for at holde rovdyrene væk. Katniss Everdeen er dog sær, for hun føler sig bedst tilpas i den natur, som har tilbageerobret terræn fra den vigende civilisation. Lige præcis derfor er hun som den ultimative amerikanske survivalist bedst forberedt på at møde det, som The Capitol (der er totalt blottet for natur) sender efter hende i den stærkt manipulerede og kontrollerede version af naturen, hun møder i arenaerne.

·         Winter Is Coming. Tænk selv videre.

Kan det virkeligt passe? (Engelsk og biologi eller naturgeografi)

Granted, her er jeg på gyngende grund takket være en vis grad af faglig uvidenhed inden for det naturfaglige felt. Ikke desto mindre læste jeg en del SRP’er i historie og fysik/matematik/biotek/biologi, hvor den naturfaglige viden skulle bruges til at foretage en særdeles dyb kritisk analyse af de påstande, som blev fremsat i historiske kilder. Det samspil kunne jeg godt lide, så måske kunne vi gøre det samme i engelsk?

·         Everest-katastrofen i 1996: 10.-11. maj døde otte mennesker i et forsøg på at nå toppen af Mount Everest og tilbage igen. Dette fik stor mediebevågenhed, da disse fortrinsvist kom fra vestlige lande. Flere af de overlevende udgav bøger om deres oplevelser, og der blev både baseret dramadokumentarer, en opera(!) og en spillefilm fra 2015 på begivenhederne. Her er der rig mulighed for at koble sproglige/retoriske og visuelle virkemidler med et kig på, hvorvidt fremstillingerne er realistiske.

·         Katastrofer: Dette var et AT-emne i sig selv for en del år siden og kan sagtens bruges igen her. Hurricane Katrina, tsunamien i Sydøstasien og alle de andre har ført til såvel politiske diskussioner som dramatiserede versioner. I den mere opdigtede afdeling er det værd at undersøge, om film som The Day After Tomorrow, 2012 og The Road er en plausibel gengivelse af, hvad mennesket kan blive udsat for, når naturen ikke længere kan kontrolleres.

Energi eller natur? (Engelsk og samfundsfag)

Hvorvidt den amerikanske natur skal fredes så meget som muligt (som det vist først blev fremlagt af Theodore Roosevelt) eller udnyttes har været en evig diskussion. I 2016 svømmede de sociale medier over med protester mod Dakota Access Pipeline, som bl.a. gik lige forbi et indianerreservat. En af præsident Trumps første ordrer var at vende tilbage til arbejdet, som han måske/måske ikke har en personlig økonomisk interesse i. Da ansatte i det amerikanske Environmental Protection Agency nærmest samtidig fik forbud mod at udtale sig på sociale medier, ikke længere måtte give stipendier til forskning og heller ikke måtte udgive rapporter, som ikke først var godkendt fra politisk side, førte det til alternative twitter-profiler, påstande om brud på den forfatningssikrede ytringsfrihed og meget andet. Dette er absolut et af de igangværende konfliktpunkter.

Helt uden for engelsk: Hvor vigtig er turismen? Island ser for tiden et voldsomt udbrud (pun intended) i antallet af turister, som alle vil se den uspolerede natur, så længe den har toilet- og madfaciliteter i nærheden.

Mere har jeg ikke tid til at skrive nu, desværre. Forslag til yderligere emner er mere end velkomne.

”Greater love has no one than this” – a Christian interpretation of Les Misérables (2012)

When analysing musical and movie sensation Les Misérables, most people focus on the theme of oppression and how, obviously, miserable everyone is – the lower classes, women, all of the unprivileged ones. However, in this paper I wish to show how the most important aspects of Les Misérables are not the social ones, but rather traditional Christian aspects such as charity, forgiveness, redemption and self-sacrifice. As is the case in all musicals, the songs are used to underline the characters’ emotions; accordingly, we have the chance to see their inner feelings and especially the different views on religion. Towards the end of this essay, I will show how one interpretation of Christianity triumphs over the other ones.

As our main character, Jean Valjean naturally undergoes the greatest change. In no way is his change greater than in terms of religion. After his release from the galleys, Valjean sings that he will never “forgive them what they have done.” He is a spiteful creature full of hatred and breaks the Eighth Commandment by stealing. Of course, that he steals the valuables of a church makes his sin even worse, and at this point Valjean has clearly lost sight of the Light of the Lord. Nevertheless, upon receiving forgiveness for this crime by the Bishop, who claims to have “saved your soul for God,” Valjean has a religious revelation. In the song “Valjean’s Soliloquy,” our main character is confronted with all of his transgressions while in church, asks “What have I done, sweet Jesus, what have I done?” and begs for a chance to redeem his wrongdoings. From this point on, Valjean commits his life to helping others no matter their social background. By saving the fallen woman, Fantine, helping children and mingling with the poor people of the street, Valjean certainly imitates the ways of Christ on his ongoing road towards redemption. When Valjean learns that he – somewhat unwillingly – is the reason why Fantine has been forced to resort to prostitution, he is overcome with guilt and is ready to pay any price to rescue her daughter, Cosette. Incidentally, Cosette dreams of a “Castle on a cloud” – an obvious metaphor for Heaven - shortly before meeting the savior-like Valjean for the first time.

As the story progresses, so does Valjean’s selflessness. Although he has the chance to let an innocent man go to prison in his stead, Valjean reveals his true identity and is forced to flee. While living in Paris, he visits the poorest parts of society and tries to help them, something that almost turns lethal when the Thénardiers recognize him. Valjean’s most unselfish act and moment of complete redemption appears in the middle of the 1832 Revolution, however. When he understands Cosette’s feelings for Marius, Valjean decides to protect the bold youngster, even if it means sacrificing himself. This is seen in the song “Bring Him Home,” in which Valjean calls upon God, asks him to “Hear my prayer” and save Marius, dramatically adding “If I die, let me die,” which is a clear reference to the Christian doctrine that “Greater love has no one than this; to lay down his life for his friends.” This, of course, is also what Éponine does for Marius, which guarantees her a place in Paradise in spite of her earlier participation in her family’s criminal antics.

The short-lived revolution also gives Valjean a chance to show his complete transformation regarding forgiveness. When given the chance to execute Javert, who has been taken prisoner by the revolutionaries, Valjean openly forgives his arch nemesis and even tells him where to find him. Over the course of the years and after finding religion, Valjean has finally learned to let go of this earlier hatred and learned to love, as he sings towards the end. It is no surprise that he is awarded a place in Paradise at the end of the movie, when Fantine and the Bishop lead him to salvation.

As a stark contrast to Valjean’s natural and open love and charity, we have the false Christians: The Thénardiers. When Valjean comes to them in order to retrieve Cosette, they claim that providing for the little girl is “no more than we Christians must do.” The cunning couple have certainly treated Cosette terribly and their Christian façade is nothing but a sham, which they try to use to create sympathy for themselves. Over the course of the rest of the story, they consistently lie, cheat and pretend to join the revolutionaries, who in a very Christian manner sing that “the blood of the martyrs will water the meadows of France” – the martyr being a traditional Christian hero. The Thénardiers have no other desire than to rob these martyrs, and the only thing they manage to get right about religion is as they are thrown out from Marius’s and Cosette’s wedding while stating they will “see you all in Hell.” There is no doubt that that will be the final destination for false Christians.

Unlike the Thénardiers, Javert’s Christianity is utterly heartfelt. In one of the scenes (“Stars”) in which he reveals his deepest thoughts, Javert shows a certain understanding of Christian beliefs. By stating that Valjean has “fallen from grace,” Javert shows an obsession with the idea that all humans are born in sin. In the song, Javert sings that “those who follow the path of the righteous shall have their reward,” a hope that he desperately clings to. As a man ashamed of being born in a prison, Javert manically follows a single-minded interpretation of justice. In the chorus of “Stars,” Javert keeps underlining that anyone who “falls like Lucifer fell” must burn forever, just like Satan is eternally condemned to Hell. Unlike Valjean’s kind-hearted charity, Javert shows nothing but contempt for the unfortunate ones in society and continually refers to the lower classes and prisoners as “Worms and maggots,” “garbage” and “scum.” Christ may have walked among the paupers and cast-outs, but when Valjert does so, it is only to harass and arrest them.

Upon facing Valjean’s forgiveness, Javert’s world is completely shattered. Just like his earlier reference to Lucifer’s fall, Javert rhetorically asks “What sort of devil is he?” about Valjean. The fact that Javert automatically sees forgiveness and the devil as two sides of the same coin borders on the comedic and shows how little grasp the virtuous inspector actually has of his religion. In his final soliloquy, Javert sings that “I stare into the void,” which is the exact same phrase that Valjean used when facing his sins in the church. Unlike Valjean, however, Javert is unable to embrace the thought of forgiveness. Incapable of facing a different world, Javert decides to plunge to his death. Ironically, committing suicide will deny you entry into Heaven in traditional Christianity, which shows how completely Javert has failed.

This conflict between different interpretations of Christianity leads us to the message. In the iconic final scene, Valjean, Fantine and the revolutionaries are united beyond death, standing atop an enormous barricade. Parts of this barricade are seemingly made from empty coffins, symbolizing that Death will finally be defeated on Judgment Day and the dead will be resurrected. The barricade itself seems to be a metaphor for true Christianity keeping the faithful ones safe from outside threats. Unsurprisingly, Javert is not present among the dead, as he represents a flawed interpretation of Christianity: The wrathful, aggressive and judgmental approach belongs to the darkest part of the Old Testament and does not take the forgiving, merciful aspects of the New Testament into account. The message is that the true and victorious interpretation of Christianity relies on love, forgiveness and peaceful living in harmony with your fellow men. Although the students started a violent revolution, in the afterlife they sing that they will “walk behind the ploughshare, [they] will put away the sword,” mirroring the famed words of the Book of Isaiah about a peaceful world. Faith in the Lord, Hope for Paradise and Charity towards your neighbours – Les Misérables teaches us that this is how to secure a place in the Kingdom of Heaven, not by judging others.

How to Analyse the Fantasy Genre

The first part of this text is somewhat inspired by the Worlds of Fantasy book and further augmented by me based on experience and numerous analyses. Now, the typical traits posted here are just that – typical. In other words, these are guidelines, not infallible rules. It must be noted that scholars do not agree completely on the ideas of high and low fantasy. Some define stories based on how different or magical the fantasy world is – completely different from ours = high fantasy, if it takes place in our world = low fantasy. My definition, however, has far more to do with the style, characters, and appeal of the tales based on the idea of highbrow and lowbrow literature, and moral and less-than-moral messages. See below for a more in-depth comparison.
Note: It is somewhat debatable whether fantasy can accurately be described as a genre or is more of a mode, as Dr John Lennard so eloquently puts it. If all it takes for something to be labelled as fantasy is a fantastical or magical element and a quest, we would have to place The Book of Revelation, Paradise Lost, The Pilgrim's Progress, Gulliver's Travels, and various other works under the same umbrella. Do they have enough in common to form a genre? If the plot of Pride and Prejudice is very unrealistic, does it qualify as fantasy? Since this text is aimed at students at a high school level, I shall just leave the question here. I just wanted to make you think about the words and terms we use.

General traits of the fantasy genre

A fantasy tale takes place in a world different from ours, yet somehow familiar – what I like to call either strangely recognizable or recognizably strange. This world or universe may be directly parallel to ours and accessible through a portal to fully mark the place at which our society ends and the other one begins.
Often, the setting will be quasi-Medieval because we (in our hypercomplex Postmodern world) see this historical era as the one most different from ours. A snide, European remark: This is especially true for the savage Americans, who do not have castles. As Italian author Umberto Eco once stated, the Middle Ages are so fascinating to us because they represent the ‘childhood’ of our society, and any psychologist worth her salt will tell you that this is where most of your personality was shaped. This strange world usually includes something supernatural and magic. There is always a quest, a mission to be undertaken in order to reach a goal.

The characters

The protagonist: The main character who undertakes the quest and through whose eyes we see most of the story, even if he/she is not the narrator per se. This character will often be young – perhaps even a child – innocent or otherwise unfamiliar with the ways of the enormous, scary world. Sometimes, the protagonist will be marked as “The Chosen One” in some way. Finally, the protagonist is often from a background that makes him/her a bit of an underdog. What is the effect of these elements, you may ask?

The companions: Helpers and sometimes friends of the main character. They do what the protagonist cannot and give us a better understanding of him/her through contrasts. Also, they teach the reader the value of co-operation. Companions may include:

·         The mentor: A wise older man (possibly a wizard) who will teach the young or innocent protagonist about the world, unravel the plot and give them the tools to survive. The mentor has a certain tendency to die midway through the story – why? Well, since most fantasy tales are really about growing up, they painfully remind us that one day we must be able to get by without our parents, teachers, and other figures of authority.

·         The loyal friend: If the point of the tale is to teach you something about sacrifice and working together, the protagonist needs one of these. Like all good friends, this one is ready to risk his/her life for you and may also have healing powers.

·         The fighter or the champion: The protagonist may – due to innocence or something like that – not be much of a warrior, but this one is. Often a bit of an anti-hero and quite different from the protagonist, but they gradually grow to respect towards.

·         The scholar: Even with a mentor, you could always use more brains. If/when the mentor dies, he/she will take over a large part of that role.

·         The bumbling fool: All stories need comic relief and this one provides it. He may cause trouble, yet never through wicked intention and will eventually prove to be valuable.

Other characters

·         The damsel in distress: A princess is locked away and needs the protagonist to save her due to her own helplessness. Feminists loathe this character.

·         The antagonist: The enemy or villain of the tale and – obviously – the direct opposite of the protagonist.

A strangely recognizable setting

No matter how much we wish to, we are probably not going to be able to do magic or properly wield a broadsword against hordes of Orcs. Nevertheless, identification is an essential aspect of the fantasy genre, and even if you will never have to throw a ring into a volcano or duel a minotaur, we have probably all faced an incredibly difficult task. Although our childhoods were probably better than Harry Potter’s, we can still relate to his problems at school, and most people have been on a date almost as awkward as his with Cho Chang in Order of the Phoenix. The supernatural elements create an immediate attraction and excitement for us, but our ability to relate is often the element that makes us return to our beloved stories.

Different subgenres

High-style fantasy:

• ·         The quest will be connected to an enormous struggle between good and evil.
• ·         Quite a few characters will be selfless and pure.
• ·         Although there will be battle scenes, they do not dive too much into the blood and gore.
• ·         Stylistically speaking, the language does not include (much) swearing and cursing.
• ·         No graphic sex. Kissing is enough to show you that two people love each other.

Low-style fantasy:

• The quest will be a lot simpler as the goal is to win gold, destroy a rival kingdom or get the princess because she is, like, totally hot. Excuse my sarcasm.
• Characters will probably include muscular heroes hacking and slashing their way through hordes of their enemies. The chainmail bikini is a perfectly acceptable garment for women, by the way.
• Battle scenes will be “realistic,” as in blood and guts by the bucket.
•  Language is often harsh and vulgar, with plenty of sexual innuendo.
•  Sex scenes (and possibly rape) are not frowned upon. 

Northrop Frye's five fantasy modes from Anatomy of Criticism:

• The mythic, in which the protagonist is superior to other people and to the environment.
• The romance, in which the protagonist is somewhat superior to other people and the environment.
• The high mimetic, in which the protagonist is somewhat superior to other people but not to the environment.
• The low mimetic, in which the protagonist is superior to none, but "one of us."
• The ironic, in which the protagonist is inferior to us.

The Medusa Effect

In all honesty, I would love to be able to take credit for this theory, which - in my view - manages to encapsulate the aspects of fantasy that captivate us. However, I owe all of it to the inimitable Dr John Lennard, who taught me at the Cambridge Summer Programme in 2017 and introduced me to this term. Should you stumble upon some of his writing or - even better - have the chance to follow one of his courses, please do so.
I take it that you know the creature called Medusa from Greek mythology? In order to slay her, Perseus brought a mirror shield; by looking at the monster's reflection instead of directly at her, Perseus could move close enough to cut off her head. In the same way, fantasy allows us to talk indirectly about topics that would otherwise be off limits, so to speak. The magical/fantastical/supernatural elements have a disarming quality (much like humour and satire) that provides us with just a little more freedom to maneuver. This is not to say that all fantasy should be studied as biography or allegory at all, but shadows of real life creep into the works - even more so than in regular fiction. A few examples:

Lewis Carroll (Charles Dodgson) came from a strict family led by an incredibly stern and dominant father. Apart from the famous author, not one of this man's children achieved independence from their father, who would regularly fly into a rage and threaten them with Purgatory, Hell, and various punishments for questioning or contradicting him. Carroll/Dodgson never truly gathered the courage to criticize or stand up to his father directly; however, it seems that one of the characters in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland was based on this temperamental, dominant, and slightly ridiculous man. Which one?
In other words, Carroll/Dodgson used the Medusa Effect to say the things that he could not do in real life, while also letting the logical scholar that he was grapple with the ideas of strange creatures and multiple truths at a time when the idea of Evolution turned everything upside down.

The Gormenghast trilogy by Mervyn Peake is far from the most famous example of fantasy literature, but should be of particular interest to those with a knack for linguistic style and class differences. A parallel realm of traditions for the sake of traditions, clear obligations and boundaries between the haves and the have-nots, and the obscure hierarchy between layers and layers of servants mirrors real-life Britain of the early 20th century (think Downton Abbey with a darker edge). Yet, when the Gormenghast books were written in the 1940's and 1950's, criticizing traditional, British society was more than frowned upon, especially at an insecure time with the Empire falling apart and shortages at home not disappearing, despite the end of the Second World War. The Medusa Effect thus allowed Peake to point out the folly of rituals and the unfairness of society that he saw.

I am still puzzled every time I meet a student with no knowledge of the Harry Potter series. Few pieces of fiction can claim to rival the success of the tale of the young wizard over the past two decades. Although still widely dismissed by so-called serious literary scholars, the HP Universe offers an application of the Medusa Effect that is often overlooked.
It is no secret that J.K. Rowling struggled with severe depression at a time when talking about doing so was even less accepted than it is today. Since she could not address this directly, Rowling invented a creature whose power was to cause symptoms very similar to depression - which one?
However, the main theme of the series is somewhat hidden behind another use of the Medusa Effect. Born in 1965, Rowling grew up in a Britain that was turning more and more multicultural and faced racism and anti-racism simultaneously. Since it would be too obvious to simply write a story about how "racism is bad," it seems that Rowling cleverly hid the powerful anti-racist message of the HP series behind the entrancing aspects of fantasy. Where in the series do we see that co-operation is far superior to the idea that some are worth more than others simply because of their genetics and ethnic or racial background?

Of course, the modern success of fantasy owes almost everything to the genius of J.R.R. Tolkien, who enjoyed inventing languages so much that he created a rather expansive background story for them, complete with different countries, rulers, and historical events. Tolkien vehemently denied that The Lord of the Rings should be read as an allegory of either the First or the Second World War, with the Ring playing the part of the atomic bomb; this seems to have steered many interpretations away from anything remotely resembling the Medusa Effect. Yet, as stated earlier the point of the Medusa Effect is not to talk of allegory as such, but about the elements of our world that we cannot escape. For Tolkien, it seems to have been the First World War, during which he served as a signals officer in the carnage of the Battle of the Somme, losing two of his three best friends in the process.
We have no proof that Tolkien ever told anyone - not even his wife - of the horrors he witnessed in the trenches, and perhaps that is the reason why the Great War's shadows are present so many places in his works. For instance: An enduring image of the Western Front is the muddy, waterlogged, ruined fields of No-Man's Land between the trenches, corpses left behind just below the surface of the water-filled craters. Does this ghastly image remind you of any chilling scenes in The Lord of the Rings?
Even in The Hobbit, which was supposed to be a children's book, Tolkien could not avoid referring to modern warfare in his description of the Goblins, adding a touch of sarcasm: 

It is not unlikely that they invented some of the machines that have since troubled the world, especially the ingenious devices for killing large numbers of people at once, for wheels and engines and explosions always delighted them, and also not working with their own hands more than they could help; but in those days and those wild parts they had not advanced (as it is called) so far.” (Tolkien, J.R.R.: The Hobbit. Harper Collins. 1937. Pp. 73-74.)

Try searching for weapons associated with the First World War and see whether they match the descriptions here.
Should we still be in doubt whether Tolkien was conscious about his references to the First World War, please look at this description from one of the first drafts of "The Fall of Gondolin," written in approx. 1917 and possibly his first writing about the universe that would enjoy so much success.

“But a third variety, the iron dragons, carry Orcs within and move on ‘iron so cunningly linked that they might flow…around and above all obstacles before them’; they break down the city gates ‘by reason of the exceeding heaviness of their bodies’ and, under bombardment, ‘their hollow bellies clanged…yet it availed not for they might not be broken, and the fires rolled off them’.” (Garth, John: Tolkien and the Great War. The Threshold of Middle-earth. Harper Collins. 2003. P. 220.)

Do these "iron dragons" remind you of anything monstrous invented during the First World War? For Tolkien, it does seem that writing became his way of dealing with his experiences in the trenches, and Frodo's nightmares and survivor's guilt after returning to the Shire may be a reflection of the way Tolkien felt after being sent home from the trenches, suffering from a sickness that psychosomatically flared up again whenever a return to the front was mentioned.

Now, if only I could find a term for the opposite taking place, i.e., letting something very real seep into the fantasy and sci-fi realms... Here, I am specifically thinking of the highly obvious visual Nazi references in, say, The Lion King or The Hunger Games. We are still looking at something "strangely recognizable," but in some ways disguising the more unfamiliar elements behind something very real is, after all, quite the opposite of the Medusa Effect, no? Keep contemplating and reflecting out there.

Turn to page 394 - en anmeldelse af Harry Potter and the Cursed Child

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child har noget til såvel nørder (undertegnede) som det generelle publikum,
men fik desværre ikke mig helt op i skyerne

Nyheden om, at der ville komme et teaterstykke ved navn Harry Potter and the Cursed Child fik ikke overraskende enorm opmærksomhed fra alle os, som blot sidder og venter på brevet fra Hogwarts. Mange var begejstrede over muligheden for at vende tilbage til universet, om end bekymrede røster spurgte, om manuskriptet kunne leve op til romanernes standard, eller om der ligefrem var tale om et forsøg på at vride lidt flere penge ud af en af verdens største fangrupper. Personligt kan jeg ikke fordrage epilogen i Deathly Hallows, skønt jeg sætter pris på, at Harry Potter-serien i det mindste fik lov at slutte lykkeligt i modsætning til tidens tendenser i The Hunger Games, Divergent, Game of Thrones og de andre hits. Ikke at der er det fjerneste galt i disse, men en afsmitning derfra i form af en Red Wedding-seance om bord på Hogwarts-Ekspressen eller lignende var noget, jeg – for nu at sætte det på spidsen – var bange for og ville anse for at være et brud med seriens overordnede tema. Manuskriptet udkom jo, uanset min skepsis, og reaktionerne blandt nettets Potterheads har været meget delte. Mens nogle har udnævnt The Cursed Child til at være glorificeret fan fiction, har andre jublet over fortællingen og muligheden for at møde persongalleriet igen. Hvad jeg tænker, kan du læse nedenfor over et glad krus butterbeer.

Plottet kører lige på og hårdt fra den allerede omtalte epilog, hvor Albus Severus Potter skal begynde på Hogwarts. Initialerne peger i Rowlings stil med navne allerede i en bestemt retning, og Albus må kæmpe både med sig selv og andres forventninger, mens han prøver på at leve op til sin far og redde verden. Meget mere vil jeg ikke afsløre her, blot at tidsrejser spiller en væsentlig rolle – ikke det mest originale, og plottet virker til tider ret tyndt, men vi får sat en fortælling med drama og konflikter i gang. Rowlings sans for plot twists er stadig til stede, og undervejs fik jeg både smilet og sendt hjertet op i halsen. En del læsere har udtryk frustration over, at læseoplevelsen ikke føles helt rigtig, da vi jo kun får replikker og sceneinstrukser, mens hovedpersonens tanker, beskrivelser af omgivelserne og alt det andet, som skabte stemningen, ikke er til stede; måske er det fordi, jeg er vant til Shakespeare og Marlowe (og i øvrigt har en særdeles livlig fantasi), men jeg havde ingen problemer med at forestille mig scenerne.

Bortset fra stemningen er noget af det, flest læsere elsker ved universet, de forskellige personer. En årsag til, at jeg ikke bryder mig om den gamle epilog, er, at figurerne for mig bør blive ved med at være rebelske teenagere til evig tid og ikke stå med midtvejskrise, slikforbud og omlagte lån. Voksne Harry Potter fungerer dog godt og nok også bedre, end jeg havde troet. Han har stadig sin usikkerhed og den vrede, som filmene ofte prøvede på at nedtone. Modet er heller ikke væk, og derfor fremstår han stadig som den uperfekte helt, som er så nem at identificere sig med. Hermione, som selvfølgelig altid har været den voksne i trioen, er endnu mere genkendelig og har som altid både vid og bid – og måske en smule mere selvtillid. Sammen med Dracos søn Scorpius Malfoy har hun nok fået stykkets bedste replikker, og netop de to personer tager kegler i mange scener.
Til gengæld var jeg virkeligt skuffet over Ron. I den oprindelige serie funderede såvel læseren som den yngste Weasley-dreng selv til tider over, hvad hans funktion egentligt er, ind til han endeligt fandt sig selv mod slutningen. Her er Ron dog reduceret totalt til comic relief og vælter irriterende rundt, hvilket virker som et enormt skridt tilbage for figuren. Scenen på Hogwarts, hvor de gamle favoritter er blevet tilkaldt af Headmistress McGonagall (yay!), fordi deres børn til ingens overraskelse er kommet i problemer, bliver decideret tåkrummende, da Ron kommer flyvende ud af kaminen med sovs på skjorten, fordi han havde rundet køkkenet undervejs, selv om situationen er alvorlig. Helt ærligt. Eller som min yndige hustru (og fellow Ravenclaw) sagde, så ville Ron nok være the token black guy, hvis dette var en dårlig Hollywood-film. Fo’ shizzle. Rollen som Harrys kampfælle overtages af en anden, og uden at ville afsløre hvem, føles det som et forsøg på at opfylde en fantasi fra diverse fans og er nok et af de elementer, som har draget sammenligninger med fan fiction. At mørke troldmænd bruger Voldemorts navn i flæng og at Hermione ikke kan genkende brugen af Polyjuice Potion skurrer også i ørerne, men som helhed virker The Cursed Child som noget, der passer ganske fint ind i det kendte univers.

Den samlede dom er således, at min store frygt for, at The Cursed Child ville ødelægge universet, ikke gik i opfyldelse. På den anden side sad jeg ikke tilbage med en følelse af, at manuskriptet for alvor bidrog med noget, og derfor kan jeg ikke tildele mere end tre og en halv chokoladefrøer ud af seks mulige. Til min store overraskelse fik jeg dog lyst til at se stykket i London, da Dementorer blandt publikum, troldmandsdueller på scenen og hele oplevelsen af at sidde blandt ligesindede uden tvivl vil gå lige i følelserne. Der er ikke andet at gøre end at krydse fingre for, at man en dag er blandt the Friday Forty og aldrig kommer i slåskamp med heksen med salgsvognen på Hogwarts-Ekspressen…

For de fantasyglade: Se også analyseguiden til genren her: http://denakademiskeproletar.blogspot.dk/2016/12/how-to-analyse-fantasy-genre.html