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SMASH! and Trash: 2012 in Review

Happy New Year! Now that we’ve made it to 2013, it’s time to look back on 2012. It was an ok year. I don’t know that I accomplished much. I learned how to make books. I finished paying off my student debt! That was actually quite exciting. I went canoeing and walked a few of the trails in Algonquin Park. I was a good aunt. I visited Newfoundland, which was the only province I hadn’t been to before. But enough about my actual life: here’s my take on the year in pop culture.

Movies

Every year, I set a goal of watching 50 movies I haven’t seen before; I accomplished that in 2012 with a final tally of 108 movies. A personal highlight of the year in film for me was going to Toronto for the Toronto International Film Festival. This was something I’d been thinking about doing for a few years. I saw five films, including one of my favourites of the year (see below). If I can swing it, I’d definitely like to go back in 2013 and possibly see even more movies. Looking at the list of 2012 releases I saw, it seems I saw more movies I didn’t really care for than movies I loved. However, there were four standouts on both ends of the spectrum:

Best

1. The Avengers. I’d been looking forward to this movie ever since that amazing moment when Nick Fury showed up in the Iron Man post-credits scene. Marvel superheroes + Joss Whedon + the generally high quality of the Marvel Cinematic Universe movies = lots and lots of hype and expectations. I was living in fear of the possibility that The Avengers would be disappointing. Luckily for me, it wasn’t! At all! In fact, it was superb. It was one of the most awesome movies I’ve ever seen in my entire life and possibly the best thing to happen on Earth in 2012. A massive (they have a Hulk) and massively entertaining summer blockbuster.

2. Les Misérables. I only saw this last week so it’s possible my opinion will change after the movie sits with me for a while, but right now I’m totally enamoured with it; I liked it so much the first time that I went again the next day — that’s a pretty strong recommendation. I was obsessed with the musical as a teenager and admire the songs very much. All I wanted from the film was solid performances that captured the tone of the musical well, and it delivered. Everyone in the cast is great. The film, while not perfect, is a stirring and emotional experience that is as grand as the songs.

3. Argo. This is the one I saw at TIFF, and the one I’m going to be rooting for come Oscar time. (Sorry, Les Mis. I still love you the most.) It’s a tense thriller about U.S. relations with the Middle East, mixed with a comedy about the movie industry — a mix that works very well and is highly enjoyable. Ben Affleck has turned out to be an excellent filmmaker. I’m honestly surprised this movie wasn’t a bigger hit: it has all the makings of a real crowdpleaser.

4. The Hunger Games. Jennifer Lawrence and Josh Hutcherson shine as Katniss and Peeta in what I felt was a mostly successful adaptation of a book I like very much. The movie has suspenseful action as well as genuinely affecting emotional scenes plus all the terrible spectacle of the Capitol and the Games. The fact that a movie about the horrors of consumerism is now the centre of a vast moneymaking empire is of course a bit ironic, but oh well.

Worst

End of Watch. Vomit-inducing shakycam combined with lots of incoherent shouting. I remain convinced that this was originally pitched as a comedy and someone somewhere along the way accidentally took it seriously.

Cosmopolis. This was at least nine hours long. Why, David Cronenberg, why?

The Amazing Spider-Man. I liked this 10 years ago when it was just called Spider-Man and was actually amazing.

The Sessions. Heroic actor plays severely disabled person! Heroic actress no one’s thought about in years takes off clothes! “Well then,” say the critics, “it must be good.” No.

Music

I was really planning to make an effort to discover more new music in 2012, but alas. I failed quite miserably and basically spent the whole year listening to Florence + the Machine. The only new album I can say made an impact on me is Battle Born by The Killers. I’ve also been enjoying Muse’s The 2nd Law, particularly the unexpectedly beautiful song “Madness.”

As for the worst in music, I was dismayed by Tori Amos’ “new” album Gold Dust, which features orchestral “reimaginings” of some of Tori’s older songs. Sounds like an interesting idea … except that many of the songs included already featured orchestras in their original versions, which made me wonder what exactly the purpose of all this could be. The only thing I can think is that she’s actually run out of crappy new material to record so she’s decided to start destroying her good music, too. The horror, the horror.

Books

My biggest literary excitement of 2012 was no doubt the fact that two of my favourite authors, J.K. Rowling and Lemony Snicket, released new books within a couple of weeks of one another. Rowling’s The Casual Vacancy was a very good entry in the English country village genre; Snicket’s Who Could That Be at This Hour? takes us back into the world of A Series of Unfortunate Events for a look at the author’s youth. I enjoyed both, but I think my favourite book of the year was Such Wicked Intent, the second book in Kenneth Oppel’s The Apprenticeship of Victor Frankenstein series. Aside from drawing with great skill on the themes of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Oppel brings in other influences — the main one being H.P. Lovecraft — and writes in a convincing Victorian style. I look forward to the final book in the series.

In the world of graphic novels, Jeff Lemire is my cartoonist of the year: I read both Essex County and The Underwater Welder in 2012 and have totally fallen in love with his art. Lemire’s strange and haunting Sweet Tooth is one of two comics I discovered and enjoyed catching up on this year, the other being Mike Carey’s very literary The Unwritten. I also continued making my way through Bill Willingham’s great series Fables, but I’m not caught up yet.

Television

I already covered the first part of 2012 quite extensively in my Memmys blog post so I won’t go on much here. In terms of things that have aired since I wrote that post, I felt Dexter returned to form this season. Yvonne Strahovski was a surprisingly good addition to the cast. Season 3 of Boardwalk Empire was also very impressive, and the most recent season of Survivor is probably one of its best ever, despite the presence of one of the all-time most irritating castaways (Abi, in case you weren’t sure).

I bade farewell to three old favourites as One Tree Hill, Weeds, and Gossip Girl made their final appearances. I discovered a couple of new to me, old to everyone else favourites in the utterly brilliant The Wire, the hilarious Community, and the very endearing Parks and Recreation. I rewatched Lost, and in doing so discovered that it works better the second time through. My rewatch cemented Lost as one of my top five favourite shows.

Finally, a couple of surprises, one good and one bad. Good: I am loving the newest season of Castle. I always thought it would annoy me if Castle and Beckett ever became a couple, but they’ve actually been really fun to watch. Bad: the final season of Fringe has been a real disappointment. I was so happy when it was renewed, but now that I’ve seen what they’re doing I will go so far as to say that unless the remaining episodes are mindblowingly amazing I will probably skip season 5 on any future Fringe rewatches I undertake. It’s a bummer.

So that’s 2012 in a nutshell. There is literally no chance that 2013 will be able to top The Avengers, but here’s hoping it provides some good stuff nonetheless.

All Is Quiet, on New Year’s Day

The beginning of a new year always makes me feel like doing random things in the name of having a fresh start; for example, this morning I flipped all the cushions on my couch, which I would probably never think of doing on any other day, but hey — it’s a new year! I also refilled my salt shaker, opened up a new toothbrush, and started rereading the Harry Potter books again.

Now a brief look back on 2011. I did some good things: went to England, managed the HPreread. Got to know my toddler niece as she developed her personality. I rewatched The X-Files. This may not seem like a big deal to anyone else, but I’ve tried to do that three or four times before and have never made it past the first half of season six. In 2011, I did all nine seasons plus both movies. It felt like an accomplishment! I also did a good job of getting myself back in the habit of reading every day, and as consequence I read 65 books. To be fair, many of those were short and some were things I’d read before, but I’d count about 30 of them as solid new books. I think I managed my personal life fairly well. I had surgery to fix up a health problem I’d been dealing with for a while and took advantage of the fact that I have dental coverage through my job to get some much needed work done on my teeth. I paid all my bills and knocked a fairly big chunk off my student debt. I did well at my job. I tried to make smart decisions about how I spend money and on what. All in all, it was a good year.

I also took in some good culture. Here are a few best and worst of 2011 picks:

Music

I liked Florence + the Machine‘s debut album enough that I was really looking forward to the followup, Ceremonials, which turned out to be one of my favourite albums of the year. My picks for the best tracks: “What the Water Gave Me,” “Heartlines,” “Leave My Body,” “Only if for a Night,” “Never Let Me Go,” and “Shake It Out.”  But my most listened album of 2011 is undoubtedly Born This Way by Lady Gaga. It’s not perfect, but there are some truly great songs on there. The best, in my opinion, are “Heavy Metal Lover,” “Bloody Mary,” “Born This Way,” and “Hair.” “Hair” was easily my favourite song of the year. It’s so stupid, but so much fun.

My biggest musical disappointment of the year was Radiohead‘s King of Limbs. I never thought we’d reach the day when Radiohead made a bad album, but unfortunately it seems we have. It’s still possible King of Limbs will grow on me in the future. I hope so.

Movies

I was underwhelmed by the cinema of 2011 until July when I saw The Tree of Life, and I still think it was probably my favourite movie of the year. As I wrote at the time, I totally get why so many people hated it, but it really, really worked for me. I thought it was beautiful and brilliant, and it stayed with me for a long time after I saw it. Another movie that has stuck with me is the haunting Martha Marcy May Marlene, starring Elizabeth Olsen as a young woman who joins and then leaves a cult, but finds that she may never truly be able to escape. I’m not sure why this movie isn’t getting more awards buzz. Speaking of which, The Artist is just as good as people say. I found it very charming. In terms of more mainstream fare, I thoroughly enjoyed Captain America — everyone seems to have a preference between Cap and Thor and, while I enjoyed Thor, I think I was more drawn in by Captain America‘s period setting. I thought the filmmakers pulled that off very well. Plus, Chris Evans was wonderful, and Hugo Weaving made a terrific Red Skull.

Movies I didn’t like: The Descendants, which I am officially naming the most overrated movie of 2011, was just as boring and pretentious as I expected it to be given my hatred of Sideways and my general dislike of George Clooney in serious movies. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2 annoyed me so much the first time I saw it that it almost put me off ever watching any of the HP movies again. Then I saw it a second time and liked it more, but I still have to say that the series was overall pretty disappointing — apart from the absolutely excellent casting.

Books

I think the only 2011 releases I read were The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern and A Dance with Dragons by George R.R. Martin, both of which were great but fell just short of being truly outstanding. I read Martin’s entire Song of Ice and Fire series for the first time in 2011, and the third volume, A Storm of Swords, was most likely my favourite “new” (to me) book of the year. A low point in 2011 for me and probably for the world: I read all four Twilight books. Breaking Dawn created a whole new level of bad.

Television

The good: Fringe, The Good Wife, and The Vampire Diaries are the best things on television right now. I was overjoyed — overjoyed, I tell you! — by Smallville‘s series finale, which made me feel that the 10 years I spent watching that show were actually worthwhile. The second season of Boardwalk Empire also wrapped up in spectacular fashion.

The bad: I was disappointed when I heard One Tree Hill and Weeds, two shows that have really gone downhill, were being renewed. I finally stopped watching House.

The sad: No Mad Men.

The circus arrives without warning

The first time I heard about The Night Circus (2011, Doubleday) by Erin Morgenstern, it was being compared to Harry Potter. My love of Harry Potter is well-established, so it shouldn’t be surprising that I decided to investigate The Night Circus further. The reviews made it sound like something I would enjoy, and indeed, I did enjoy it quite a lot. However, now that I’ve read it, I have no idea why it’s being compared to Harry Potter. It does have magic in it, true, but it’s not a similar story at all, and it’s certainly not aimed at the same age group. The Potter comparison made me expect it to be a children’s or young adult book. Nope! My first clue to the fact that this might be aimed at older readers came on page 10, when a character uses some colourful language. In this way, it reminded me a little of Neil Gaiman’s Stardust, which also quickly dispels any notion that it might be a children’s book with a well-placed expletive.

The Night Circus, which takes place around the turn of the 20th century, is the story of a magical contest between Celia and Marco, both apprentices to older illusionists who’ve made a game for years out of forcing their students to compete, apparently in order to determine which of their teaching methods is superior. The venue for the duel is Le Cirque des Rêves, an arena of wonders designed completely in black, white, and grey, which opens only after dark and features not just the usual circus performers — acrobats, a contortionist, big (and small) cats, fortune tellers, and Celia, the illusionist — but also elaborate exhibits such as a garden made completely of ice, a carousel that is part mechanical and part magical, and a vertical labyrinth made of clouds. The novel tells the story of the creation and early years of the circus, weaving in many characters such as: Chandresh Christophe Lefèvre, the perfectionist promoter; Mr. Barris, the architect; Tsukiko, a mysterious contortonist; Poppet and Widget, twins who were born on the circus’ opening night; Herr Friedrick Thiessen, the clockmaker who designs the circus’ centrepiece clock; and Bailey, who visits the circus as a young boy and forms a bond with Poppet. It soon becomes apparent that all of these people are being affected in unforeseen ways by the circus’ unbreakable link to Celia and Marco’s duel.

The story itself, while engrossing at times and generally strong enough to keep the reader interested, is not outstanding; it runs out of steam in the final act. But it almost doesn’t matter, because The Night Circus works extremely well as a sort of verbal scrapbook, a collection of memories of an enchanting time and place — much like the accounts of the circus compiled by Herr Thiessen in the novel. Through these published writings, “excerpts” of which appear throughout the book, Thiessen becomes “the unofficial leader, the figurehead” of the “most ardent followers” of the circus. It is Herr Thiessen who starts the tradition among “rêveurs,” as these circus followers are known, of wearing a splash of red with the circus’ traditional greyscale colour scheme: the greyscale, he says, makes him feel as though he fits in, while the red reminds him that he is an outsider. Perhaps this position as external observer and chronicler is what makes Herr Thiessen one of the novel’s most memorable and likable characters. Morgenstern leaves the rules of the game in which Celia and Marco find themselves embroiled unclear through most of the novel; if this is a deliberate strategy to enhance the story’s drama, it backfires a bit by making it somewhat difficult for the audience to identify with a situation it has no hope of understanding. Herr Thiessen, by contrast, is just enjoying the wonders of the circus — something the audience can easily get behind.

It is Morgenstern’s vivid descriptions, not only of the circus, but also of the strange and beautiful artefects in the lives of all her characters, which make The Night Circus an outstanding read. The world of the novel is a magical environment full of people who own and design mysterious and wonderful things, such as the clock Herr Thiessen creates for the circus:

The face of the clock becomes a darker grey, and then black, with twinkling stars where the numbers had been previously. The body of the clock, which has been methodically turning itself inside out and expanding, is now entirely subtle shades of white and grey. And it is not just pieces, it is figures and objects, perfectly carved flowers and planets and tiny books with actual paper pages that turn. There is a silver dragon that curls around part of the now visible clockwork, a tiny princess in a carved tower who paces in distress, awaiting an absent prince. Teapots that pour into teacups and minuscule curls of steam that rise from them as the seconds tick. Wrapped presents open. Small cats chase small dogs. An entire game of chess is played. (p. 69)

Everything, from Marco’s intricate notebooks, filled with drawings of trees and arcane symbols, to Celia’s magically-changing gowns, to the incredible foods served at Chandresh’s midnight dinners, is painted with such skill that the reader can almost feel it — or taste it, or smell it, as the case may be. Like the circus itself, this is a book of marvels. The physical book itself is also beautifully designed, complementing the sensory aspect of Morgenstern’s writing.

While the story is somewhat flawed, The Night Circus is still a book to savour thanks to Erin Morgenstern’s masterful portrayal of an intriguing world of marvels. The Neil Gaiman comparison I made earlier is probably a good one; the concept seems like something that would appeal to Gaiman fans, and there’s a certain similarity in tone to his work as well. Certainly, it’s much more Neil Gaiman than Harry Potter.

Nolite te bastardes carborundorum

I just finished reading The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood, which, as well as being possibly the most well-known novel by perhaps the greatest living Canadian writer, can also reasonably be called a science fiction classic. Released in 1985, it won the Governor General’s Award for English language fiction in Canada. It also won the Arthur C. Clarke Award, was nominated for the Booker Prize and a Nebula Award, and came in at number 22 on NPR’s recent reader’s choice list of the best science fiction and fantasy novels of all-time.

Despite all the book’s acclaim, I had somehow never read it before. Yes, despite the fact that I’m Canadian, I love Canadian literature, I have two literature degrees in pursuit of which I took multiple Canadian literature courses, and I’m a fan of dystopian novels, I still managed to avoid The Handmaid’s Tale. The first Atwood novel I read was Lady Oracle, and it didn’t make much of an impression on me. The result was that for years I thought I didn’t like Margaret Atwood. One day I picked up Alias Grace, which I knew my sister had enjoyed, at a used book sale. I thought it was excellent, so I decided I should give Atwood another go. Last month, I read and enjoyed The Robber Bride. I finished that one while I was in London, where I then picked up The Handmaid’s Tale at the British Library’s bookstore after visiting their excellent (but sadly now ended) Out of This World exhibit on the history of science fiction, which featured at least three or four of Atwood’s books and included her as a panel participant, though unfortunately not while I was there. (But I did get to see Neil Gaiman!) Given everything I knew about The Handmaid’s Tale and its status as a highly-regarded piece of Canadian science fiction, I was quite eager to get started on it and learn what the fuss was about.

The Handmaid’s Tale takes place in an imaginary future United States, now called the Republic of Gilead. Gilead is ruled by religion and is extremely patriarchal: women’s behaviour is strictly codified and monitored. The novel’s narrator is a member of a class of women whose sole function is to act as childbearers for upper class couples who can’t or don’t have their own children. These women wear prescribed clothing — the description made it sound something like a nun’s habit, except red — and are only allowed out of their rooms to run certain errands and take part in authorized rituals. The narrator is known only by the name “Offred.” That’s “of Fred,” Fred being the high-ranking official, called “The Commander,” to whom she now belongs. She tells her life story in non-chronological bits and pieces, describing both her monotonous life as a handmaid and her freer life in the pre-Gilead USA.

One of Atwood’s great strengths as a writer, in my opinion, is her ability to give her characters individual voices. In The Robber Bride, for instance, each of the three protagonists’ sections has a distinct tone that seems to flow perfectly with the way the characters think. In Alias Grace, too, Grace and the doctor’s voices could probably not be more dissimilar. The narrator’s voice in The Handmaid’s Tale is also extremely well-drawn. It is the voice of a woman who can’t quite believe the circumstance she finds herself in. Offred’s feelings of helplessness and desperation come across in every word.

This is, to put it mildly, not a cheerful book. Several passages are disturbing. A description of a funeral procession mourning a miscarried fetus stands out, as does a chilling scene at the handmaids’ training centre in which a young woman recounts how she was gang raped at age 14 while the other girls in the group chant that the incident was her fault. The ease and suddenness with which the new government of Gilead revokes women’s rights to property and employment is also frightening. In a very striking passage, the narrator tells of the immediate shift this change in status causes in her relationship with her husband:

But something had shifted, some balance. I felt shrunken, so that when he put his arms around me, gathering me up, I was small as a doll. I felt love going forward without me.

He doesn’t mind this, I thought. He doesn’t mind it at all. Maybe he even likes it. We are not each other’s, any more. Instead, I am his.

Unworthy, unjust, untrue. But that is what happened.

She’s gone from person to possession in one swift move, and something in her marriage breaks because of it. It is devastating.

I finished the book — which by the way I highly recommend, unless you want to read something happy — earlier today, less than 24 hours after reading that the United States Congress had passed a bill not-so-affectionately nicknamed the “Let Women Die” Act. One of the provisions in this bill allows hospitals to refuse to provide an abortion to a woman who needs it to save her life. Got that? A woman’s pregnancy might be killing her, but this bill would allow medical practitioners to let the mother die rather than aborting the fetus and saving the mother’s life. That the fetus would most likely die too in such a case seems to be irrelevant; what’s important is that the mother should die rather than survive without her unborn child. To me, this says that many American politicians apparently believe that a woman ceases to be a person once she becomes pregnant — heck, maybe just once she hits childbearing age! Her life on its own has absolutely no value; she is nothing more than a vessel, and if she cannot fulfil her biological destiny then she’d might as well die. It’s hard for me to read something like this without wondering whether parts of North America will actually be living The Handmaid’s Tale within my lifetime. As a woman, I’d rather not see this particular vision of the future come to pass.

Mis-shapes, Mistakes, Misfits

A friend linked me to a blog post called Harry Potter: The Anti-Geek the other day. The author of the post argues that Harry Potter and his friends do not fit in with the “band of misfits” trope that commonly shows up in the fantasy genre; specifically, she cites the Scooby Gang from Buffy the Vampire Slayer as an example of the type of group of social outcasts which Harry and friends are not. Seeing as Buffy and Harry Potter are two of my favourite things and I love comparing them, I have some thoughts on this subject.

I can’t disagree with the main point the author makes about Harry himself: I wouldn’t call him a nerd or a geek. It’s true that Harry is a jock, and that his fame and wealth give him some social status in the wizarding world. Some of the author’s other arguments, however, are more debatable. For example:

Harry and Ron, on the other hand, are more stereotypical privileged young men who only put forward a C effort in school because they know they can coast into adulthood on their families’ reputation.

This, I think, is blatantly wrong. First of all, the suggestion that Ron can coast through life on the Weasley family reputation seems dubious at best. The Weasleys are pure-bloods, but they are also poor, and we learn that Bill, Charlie, and Percy all work for a living after they graduate from Hogwarts. Arthur Weasley, meanwhile, is viewed by the wizarding community as an oddball (perhaps even … a misfit) because of his interest in Muggles. There is some suggestion that his obsession has even held him back at work.

I also think it’s unfair to condemn Harry and Ron as slackers. Sure, they might sleep through History of Magic — to be fair, everyone except Hermione also sleeps through that class — and BS their way through Divination — a subject even Hermione thinks is a load of crap —  but they work hard in the classes they enjoy, and there are many instances in the books where we see the two of them working frantically at their schoolwork. Are they more likely to skip doing homework than Hermione is? Yes. Is almost everyone else at Hogwarts also more likely to skip doing homework than Hermione is? Well, yes. She’s Hermione. I will agree that Harry and Ron may not be the most academically-inclined people in the world, but then neither are their Scooby Gang counterparts, Buffy and Xander.

And what of Hermione? I would think someone who loves schoolwork and reading as much as she does must have some nerd cred, but according to the author Hermione “still doesn’t rise to the level of a true geek character” because she’s beautiful and she dates Viktor Krum. This is a stretch. Hermione might grow up to be attractive, but she is explicitly described as being quite mousy in the first few books. The reaction from other Hogwarts students when she shows up at the Yule Ball looking pretty borders on cruel: Parvati gapes at her in “unflattering disbelief” that that’s Hermione Granger. As for Viktor Krum, while he’s certainly dashing on a broomstick, Harry notes that he’s much less impressive with his feet on the ground. It is possible that Krum himself is a bit of a misfit who just happens to be a world famous Quidditch player, too. At any rate: if the Scooby Gang is the standard by which all bands of misfits are to be judged, then I must admit that I’m struggling to see much of a difference in this respect between Hermione and her Scooby equivalent, Willow, who dates (ye gads!) a musician.

Regarding Harry himself: as several commenters on the original post pointed out, it’s worth noting that he spends significant parts of the series being shunned because many of his classmates suspect him of being evil (Chamber of Secrets), wildly egotistical (Goblet of Fire), or deranged (Order of the Phoenix). Clearly, the special status Harry gains from being “the boy who lived” is not always a positive thing: just like Buffy, whose gifts make her a social outcast, Harry often feels like a freak. Think about how many times he faints or has a Voldemort-related seizure in public over the course of the series. That’s got to be more than a little embarrassing for a teenager. Before he came to the wizarding world, too, Harry was most definitely a misfit: he was forced to wear Dudley’s hand-me-downs and was constantly bullied by Dudley and his friends, who made sure that Harry had no friends of his own. It’s this aspect of Harry’s background that I think defines how he perceives himself, much more than his new status in the wizarding world as a star athlete and celebrity.

Aside from all that, what really made me react to this blog post is that I have always considered the wider social circles within which the Scooby trio and the Potter trio move to be extremely similar precisely because the two heroes share an ability to look past a misfit-like exterior and see an individual’s true value. Neville is probably the nerdiest kid in Gryffindor and Luna is, let’s face it, a total weirdo, but they both become valued and well-liked friends to the trio. Anya may be a strangely literal ex-demon with little understanding of human customs, but she’s on Buffy’s team. Faith and Andrew are both former villains who find a place in the group.

This ability to be accepting of difference extends to looking past the conventional wisdom on the supposedly innate characteristics of various magical or supernatural creatures. For Buffy, this means taking Angel, a vampire, as an ally. The rest of the Scooby Gang is (mostly) comfortable with having Angel on the team, but Kendra can’t understand this at all: to her, all vampires are just plain evil and should always be killed. In season four, a similar situation arises when Riley finds out that Oz is a werewolf. His Initiative training makes him question why Buffy would associate with such a creature, but Buffy and the others know Oz as a person and ultimately Riley comes around. There is an obvious Potter parallel to this in Prisoner of Azkaban when Professor Lupin is revealed to be a werewolf: Ron, raised with the belief that werewolves are evil, is initially repulsed when he learns the truth, but in the end Lupin remains a trusted friend to the group. Harry, Ron, and Hermione also understand that although Hagrid is half giant, he is a kind and goodhearted person; that Dobby is not merely a slave, but an ally and friend who deserves the respect of a proper burial. Griphook, used to being treated as a lower life form, is obviously struck by Harry’s behaviour, commenting that his actions in Dobby’s case mark him as a very “unusual” wizard. Spike, meanwhile, who is despised and rejected by almost everyone, tells Buffy: “I know that I’m a monster, but you treat me like a man.”

To my mind, the fact that Harry and Buffy’s evil-fighting social circles are inclusive, taking in the social outcasts and misfits others might perceive as having no value, is one of the things that makes them so similar as characters.

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