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By Chris Gregory

Since Harry Potter first flew into the American landscape a little more than a year ago, the unassuming lad and his rags-to-riches author have received accolades ranging from the distinguished (the UK's National Book Award, the Smarties Prize and so on) to the barely heard (my 10-year-old neighbor, who told me in an awed voice, "Those books weren't stupid"). Along with the praise came millions of dollars handed over by ecstatic children and equally ecstatic parents thrilled to be paying for anything with an intellectual range greater than Pokemon. The books were, everyone agreed, clever and funny and magical, and how nice that they were making a lot of money. The three Harry Potter books tell the story of a young boy learning to become a wizard at a magical school called Hogwarts. At first glance, nothing here would seem offensive, especially given the comic tone of the books. (The third book has gotten a little darker, but only in comparison to an initial book that includes sentences like: "Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox -- points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers.") But in today's hypersensitive cultural climate, anything can be found to have some offensive elements -- you just have to look hard enough. First came the conservative pro-family Christian groups, ignoring more morally dubious -- but less popular -- works in a drive to remove the Harry Potter books from classrooms and libraries. These parents are concerned that the cheerful depiction of magic will tempt young readers enthralled with the books to leave Christianity and follow paganism. If modern paganism could teach me to do half the stuff in these books, I'd be its most fervent convert. The students learn fun stuff like shrinking potions (which would certainly have enlivened my chemistry class), how to make a pineapple dance across your desk (which beats algebra, hands down) and how to fly on a broomstick (which leaves regular gym in the dust). Unfortunately, modern witchcraft bears as much resemblance to Hogwarts' curriculum as my eighth-grade chemistry class did to Professor Snape's potions class, with the possible exception that my chemistry teacher was a lot nastier. Nor does Hogwarts seem to have any particular religious leanings outside of the annual, and very secular, Christmas party, and a few characters walking around with suspiciously classical names. A more valid critique would be that the books contain no trace of religion or religious observance whatsoever, doubtful at a time when the majority of us still do attend religious services. It's worth noting also that the magic depicted by Rowlings does seem to have some moral sense attached to it. The few spells used to harm others usually backlash on the user in a riotously humorous or dreadful way. Thus, the evil Voldemort loses most of his powers after using magic to kill Harry's parents. And when Ron attempts to curse the school bully, Draco Malfoy, his wand backfires, and poor Ron spends the next few hours throwing up slugs. (Scenes like this explain why 10-year-olds love the books.) Conservative groups have also expressed concern with the violence in the books, which, when compared to the typical Hollywood PG movie, seems terribly mild. Objections were also raised to the depiction of the Dursleys, the family that Harry has to spend his miserable summer vacations with.They are Muggles, people who can't do magic, and they are so awful that they become irresistibly funny. The Dursleys force Harry to sleep in a cupboard, constantly yell at him, hit him and prevent him from communicating with his friends. They give him a toothpick for a Christmas present. This is in marked contrast to the spoiling of their son, the nasty Dudley, who sobs on one birthday because he's only received 36 presents. His mother hastily comforts him with the promise of more gifts to come: "Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work." It must be admitted that the Dursleys do not present a positive picture of the traditional nuclear family. But the books also introduce us to the loving, nurturing Weasley family that has somehow managed to raise seven highly intelligent, charming kids. Unfortunately, they're also poor, barely able to afford their kids' school fees; their house ("it looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen") is falling to pieces. And yet, when Harry visits Ron's family: "It's a bit small," said Ron quickly. "Not like that room you had with the Muggles. And I'm right underneath the ghoul in the attic; he's always banging on the pipes and groaning." But Harry, grinning widely, said, "This is the best house I've ever been in." Find a better statement for "family values" anywhere.


October 22, 1999

By JUDY BLUME

I happened to be in London last summer on the very day "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban," the third book in the wildly popular series by J. K. Rowling, was published. I couldn't believe my good fortune. I rushed to the bookstore to buy a copy, knowing this simple act would put me up there with the best grandmas in the world. The book was still months away from publication in the United States, and I have an 8-year-old grandson who is a big Harry Potter fan. It's a good thing when children enjoy books, isn't it? Most of us think so. But like many children's books these days, the Harry Potter series has recently come under fire. In Minnesota, Michigan, New York, California and South Carolina, parents who feel the books promote interest in the occult have called for their removal from classrooms and school libraries. I knew this was coming.The only surprise is that it took so long -- as long as it took for the zealots who claim they're protecting children from evil (and evil can be found lurking everywhere these days) to discover that children actually like these books. If children are excited about a book, it must be suspect. I'm not exactly unfamiliar with this line of thinking, having had various books of mine banned from schools over the last 20 years. In my books, it's reality that's seen as corrupting. With Harry Potter, the perceived danger is fantasy. After all, Harry and his classmates attend the celebrated Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. According to certain adults, these stories teach witchcraft, sorcery and satanism. But hey, if it's not one "ism," it's another. I mean Madeleine L'Engle's "A Wrinkle in Time" has been targeted by censors for promoting New Ageism, and Mark Twain's "Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" for promoting racism. Gee, where does that leave the kids? The real danger is not in the books, but in laughing off those who would ban them. The protests against Harry Potter follow a tradition that has been growing since the early 1980's and often leaves school principals trembling with fear that is then passed down to teachers and librarians. What began with the religious right has spread to the politically correct. (Remember the uproar in Brooklyn last year when a teacher was criticized for reading a book entitled "Nappy Hair" to her class?) And now the gate is open so wide that some parents believe they have the right to demand immediate removal of any book for any reason from school or classroom libraries. The list of gifted teachers and librarians who find their jobs in jeopardy for defending their students' right to read, "> to imagine, to question, grows every year. My grandson was bewildered when I tried to explain why some adults don't want their children reading about Harry Potter. "But that doesn't make any sense!" he said. J. K. Rowling is on a book tour in America right now. She's probably befuddled by the brouhaha, too. After all, she was just trying to tell a good story. My husband and I like to reminisce about how, when we were 9, we read straight through L. Frank Baum's Oz series, books filled with wizards and witches. And you know what those subversive tales taught us? That we loved to read! In those days I used to dream of flying. I may have been small and powerless in real life, but in my imagination I was able to soar. At the rate we're going, I can imagine next year's headline: " 'Goodnight Moon' Banned for Encouraging Children to Communicate With Furniture." And we all know where that can lead, don't we? Judy Blume is the author of 22 books, including "Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret," and the editor of "Places I Never Meant To Be: Original Stories by Censored Writers."

Copyright 1999 Judy Blume Copyright 1999 The New York Times Company