Here is the review, and here is the MAL mirror.

Reading it was very hard in the beginning. Sixteen pages in and I could already relate absurdly well with both Meiko and Taneda, and hell, all their friends as well. It was depressing, but it got easier the further I progressed because they became their own people, rather than just ghostly representations of myself and people I knew. The story is how they choose to live their own lives, one path in a forest of many. Theirs aren’t the best choice, nor the worst. It isn’t an answer, but it’s there. Highly recommend.

So I guess I’m kind of surprised that this time, I think I liked it much, much better.

(This post contains no spoilers for any Harry Potter book or movie.)

More often than not, revisiting titles leads to a greater appreciation rather than the realization that it wasn’t quite as awesome as you once thought. Things you used to like, you’ll generally like more with time. Nostalgia is a strong factor for everyone, but there’s also heightened understanding that comes with maturation and age. Things you didn’t realize before become clearer: politics you didn’t understand in a story or some reference that you couldn’t appreciate at the time. Repeated viewings also help you spot things you might have missed before. Occasionally, you might realize that something actually isn’t that amazing while still understanding why you used to like it so much, but that’s different from suddenly thinking it’s terrible. I think it’s pretty rare for you to hate something you used to be fond of.

For things you used to dislike or were indifferent to, it’s most common to continue disliking or being indifferent to them. When that doesn’t happen though, I think it’s more likely that you’ll appreciate it more — not like it, necessarily, but at least appreciate it more — than dislike it more. Many of the same reasons apply: things become clearer, you catch references you missed, themes you missed, depth you missed. Any vehemence to the dislike also dissipates with time, and chances are if you’re revisiting something at all, you really didn’t hate it that much.

And so admittedly, I never hated Half-Blood Prince. I like the series too much on the whole to hate any part of it, whatever disagreements I might have with Rowling’s specific story decisions. So maybe it isn’t so surprisingly that I seem to have come to terms with these disagreements; perhaps it was inevitable. I still dislike a lot of things (certain things, perhaps it’s even a vehement dislike still), but this third or fourth time through, I feel like I understand a lot better why they’re there and what place those specifics have in the grander scheme of things. The book felt more poignant for it, and it’s kind of strange.

Is this newfound acceptance a mark of maturity on my part, a new understanding because of such, a noted phenomenon, or all of above? Are the subjects and themes within Harry Potter, particularly those explored in the particular book in question, relevant to the phenomenon? It applies to the entire series certainly, but Half-Blood Prince is very much a coming of age book, especially at the end. In it, Harry is sixteen. The book came out in July 2005. Then, I was seventeen. I think it’s kind of funny then, that I should understand the book so much more now for those themes than I did then. The upped appreciation is not a surprise — as I said, nostalgia also adds more appreciation — but is it the teenager that best understands and sympathizes with the teenager, or is it the twenty-something? The thirty-something? The forty-something and beyond? What age group does a coming of age book most affect?

On the other hand, and I just realized this, maybe I liked Half-Blood Prince so much more this time around because I’ve now read the final book. In the last several chapters especially, HBP does so much to prepare both the characters and the readers for the last book, and Deathly Hallows does so much to make you realize just how far everything has come since both the previous installment and the very beginning of the series. Finishing the last book is finishing a series more than a decade in the making and closing the back cover on the last chapter about a character you had grown up with, no matter what age you started the series at (everyone spends their whole life “growing up,” even if the teenage years are the most tumultuous times). Spread out over so many years, the seven book series is a tremendous journey. Knowing all of that now and having the complete frame of reference, the coming of age theme in Half-Blood Prince is that much more powerful. And I can see where the things I disliked connect to that theme (and various others), so thus, my quiet forgiveness.

I guess it’s one of a great many reasons why Harry Potter continues to have such a high readability value for me, and when I reread them, I’m rereading every chapter and every word, not just skimming. I don’t really doubt that will change even when the last two movie comes out and I won’t be able to use them as an excuse to reread a particular volume.

Anyway, I’ll be seeing the HBP movie on Saturday. A review will undoubtedly follow. It’ll probably be pleasantly snarky in that “I’m totally a purist, but not really a hater” sort of way.

You know, taking Renton out of this series completely would solve a lot of things.  Just think! What if Holland really was Eureka’s “chosen one” and he had to either risk the world or break Talho’s heart? He seemed like he was capable of being in love with multiple people at the same time anyway, right? And even if he was only in love with Talho, if Eureka was in love with him and needed him to love her to save the world, then that would be one hell of an interesting and dramatic love triangle — much more interesting than the sappy, idealistic romance that Renton and Eureka had where all of their problems stemmed from Renton being a dumbass (“Of course I’d want to know about my father! What’s wrong with you?“). The Holland/Talho/Eureka drama might have actually already happened in the events leading up to the start of the series, but Eureka not reciprocating Holland’s theoretical feelings kind of nullifies its relevance completely. (And to make Holland less of a pedophile, just age up Eureka; she’s not human anyway. Besides, her personality would be less typical if she were older.)

Taking out Renton and starting the story back earlier would also take out much of the need for explanations and flashbacks. If we follow Holland as the main protagonist, then the audience should know what his goals are much, much sooner as well, so we actually have a clear goal and obstacles rather than running around with little apparent purpose for forty episodes before cramming everything into the end. And while we’re condensing things, we could take out Dominic and Anemone as well because they were kind of like the Saji and Louise of this series and therefore completely pointless. Anemone ended up being useless to Dewey in the end, so what does it really matter? The fact that she was made to be a pseudo-Coralian was also so poorly explained that I wasn’t sure what the hell she was until I looked it up on Wikipedia afterwards. (Was it any clearer in the sub?)

Geez, I keep looking at Renton’s face in the picture up there and even his face pisses me off. He looks like such a smug asshole there, looking down at the viewer. There are so many things that bother me about the guy’s logic and how he handles things. You didn’t realize you’d been killing people all this time? Really? Really? His relationship with Charles and Ray was pretty disturbing too, mostly because he seemed so overly eager to be adopted into their family. Even if he is that desperate for a family, shouldn’t he be a little more cautious about assimilating into a family of strangers? His reaction to their request to call them “Papa” and “Mama” (I’m assuming it was “Otou-san” and “Okaa-san” in Japanese) was ridiculously childlike considering the awkwardness of the request in the first place. It was creepy as hell, especially considering his age. (Yes, I wrote about the age thing already, but it still really, really bothers me that he acts so much like a ten-year old, and sometimes maybe even eight.) Besides, if Renton’s grandfather and sister replaced his parents as parental figures, then I don’t see why he would be so desperate for a family, or even a place to belong — he could have gone back to (or tried to go back to) Bellforest, but he didn’t.

There was just zero reason for me to sympathize with this kid. Charles and Ray could stand to be purged from the series too, though they do have history with Holland and Eureka, and they were crazy enough to be entertaining. It’s just a matter of whether the slow-down of plot progression that results with their existence is worth it since they don’t really contribute much on the plot front.

I really thought the Limit of Questions was an aptly named and interesting concept, but it was pretty poorly explained, along with most of the relevant information concerning the past, the Scub Corals, and Dewey’s plan and motivation. There were also a lot of things that I wasn’t convinced of logically, like the fact that humans apparently had no idea that they had returned to the Earth. How the hell would you be able to keep secret your entire species’ return to its home planet? Did the entire population just immediately forget when they landed or had it, for some reason, been brainwashed out of the populace’s head? Dewey’s belated flashback was also confusing in explaining the Novak family’s role in the world, as well as the concept of the “sacrificial king.” Anemone’s apparent apathy towards his rambling exposition further made me disinclined to care. For revelations so long in the coming, they certainly were terribly done, especially since we never, ever find out why Dewey has such a one-sided hatred of the Scub Coral. That might be important, considering destroying them was his entire scheme. And in the spirit of getting rid of pointless characters: the Sages could go too. Dewey can be the Charles zi Britannia of this world.

Oh, those goddamn kids can go too. All they did was rub in more of the persistent family themes and inject “character development” very late in the game. Seriously, did we need those two or three episodes of Renton, Eureka, and the kids chillin’ on the beach being emo? Aside from the fact that Eureka’s transformation is never explicitly explained (an explanation can be inferred, but it sucks to not get assurance either way), the kids go through the “omg! You killed our real parents!” thing so late in the series that it’s ridiculous. Traumatized or not, you’d think that would be something they confront far, far earlier, like maybe as soon as they realize that their parents are gone for good. I also think it disturbs me on some level that Renton (and Eureka) actually comes to accept the kids as his kids rather than younger siblings of some sort. If we get rid of Renton though, then it isn’t as bad since the family concept is much more appropriate for Holland and an aged up Eureka, not to mention Talho. Still, I’m sure that Eureka can feel plenty of belonging without the acceptance of those war orphans.

Ahaha, I am tired of rambling now.

Last thing though: the ending was lame as hell and made no sense whatsoever. How does Eureka’s refusal to become a Command Cluster stop the end of the world? If the existence of the Command Cluster was what kept the Scub Coral dormat for all those years, then a lack of one means they’re all forced to awaken, thus pushing the world over the Limit of Questions, right? That was why they were trying to stop Dewey from blowing up the original Command Cluster. Then shouldn’t Eureka’s refusal to replace to Cluster just make things worse? And if her collar is going to have her self-destruct anyway, then it doesn’t really matter either way, right? How the hell does Eureka and Renton gattai-ing help anything? Even if it stops the self-destruction, something still needs to be the Command Cluster. Or even if that combination is what allowed the Scub Coral to reach “enlightenment,” unless they all simultaneously combined with something else on the planet to produce a shit ton of human/Coralian hybrids, wouldn’t they still breach the Limit of Questions? The brief epilogue really shows no hint of human/Coralian coexistence either. Furthermore, what do Eureka and Renton actually become after combining? A rainbow?? Maybe my accumulated frustration and apathy had me not pay attention at all for that last episode, but then maybe they shouldn’t save a bunch of last minute twists and revelations for the last goddamn episode.

One year difference? Riiiight.

Look at Kingdom Hearts. In the first game, Sora and Kairi are fourteen. Riku is fifteen. Sora and Kairi are innocent, completely good-hearted, and faithful to “the light.” Riku is insecure and jealous and “opens himself to darkness.” It’s true that it’s in Riku’s personality that his insecurities should leave him vulerable to negative influence, but why specify that he’s fifteen while his friends are fourteen? Why is that one year difference so significant? In Eureka seveN, Renton is fourteen. He is naive, immature, and is easily confused by things I wouldn’t expect a fourteen-year old to be confused by. In Bleach, Ichigo is fifteen. He is still naive to some extent, but more mature, quicker to act, slower to whine about things. The art depicting all of these characters is also very indicative — Sora, Kairi, and Renton are all drawn with much more child-like proportions (seriously, Sora looks like he’s maybe ten in the above picture). Their faces are round, their eyes are large, their limbs look fragile. Meanwhile, Riku has rather some rather muscular arms and Ichigo is very angular. Puberty is supposed to be an awkward time of gradual transition — things shouldn’t change so much in just a year. I don’t remember changing so much in a year.

The fourteen-year olds bother me a lot more than the fifteen-year olds because they often seem much younger than they claim to be. Renton acts like he’s ten. So does Sora. In both cases, the target audience is the actual age of the characters (and older) rather than the acting age of the characters, so why are they aged down so much? Why does Renton throw so many temper tantrums? Why does Sora have such an untainted, innocent quality to him? I have difficulty imagining any real fourteen-year old boy acting as either of them do. Fourteen is a rebellious age — you go out and do things rather than throw fits, and you are more open to knowingly doing “bad things” rather than maintaining a wholehearted “goodness.” There is little fluctuation in either of those characters’ personalities to indicate that they have even a few of the traditional qualities of teenagers. (Okay, I’m probably being a bit harsh on Renton, but Sora, at least, doesn’t really change.) It isn’t like Eureka seveN or Kingdom Hearts would change dramatically if their protagonists were declared ten-year olds instead of fourteen-year olds.

The fifteen-year olds are usually not so farfetched as fifteen-year olds (except when it comes to having power; fifteen year old pilots always beat the middle-aged pilots!). Then again, Sora is aged to fifteen in Kingdom Hearts II with minimal change in personality, but that’s just him.

This is about how old Sora acts. (Photographer: tofuguns@flickr)

In Sailor Moon, most of the inner senshi are fourteen when they’re introduced. Haruka and Michiru are technically sixteen at their introduction, but as they’re only one grade ahead of the others, it’s close enough? The maturity differences between the former group and the latter pair is striking and commented on several times in the series itself. A vast majority of the pilots in Gundam series are fifteen or older. Amuro Ray, Garrod Ran (Gundam X), all five of the Wing boys, and Setsuna F. Seiei (Gundam 00) are fifteen. Kira Yamato and Athrun Zala are both sixteen in Gundam SEED; I couldn’t find Domon Kasshu’s age (G Gundam), but he was probably seventeen or eighteen — Wikipedia mentions that Sai Saici was the youngest pilot in that series at age sixteen. Judau Ashta (Gundam ZZ) is apparently fourteen; I haven’t seen the series myself, but I wonder if the character is like the various fourteen-year olds described above. (If so, I wonder if that’s one of the reasons ZZ has a bad rap.)

Sailor Moon’s target audience is younger than Gundam’s, so it would make sense that the characters act younger, but Usagi could have just as easily been branded as a fifteen-year old. Similarly, more Gundam pilots could have been stated as fourteen and still act mature. The plus or minus one year would change nothing in the story — they are still teenage magical girls fighting aliens and teenage boys piloting giant robots. Why is the difference between fourteen and fifteen? Why not thirteen and fourteen? Fifteen and sixteen? Everyone between ten and fourteen acts “fourteen” (and by that, I mean ten); everyone between fifteen and their early twenties acts “fifteen.” In Card Captor Sakura, Sakura is ten — Usagi, fourteen, acts about the same maturity level. Setsuna’s fellow Gundam meisters in 00 are aged 23 (Lockon), 18 (Tieria), and 18 (Allelujah) — they all display about the same maturity level.

There are at least a few examples of characters who don’t fit in with what I’ve said; the only one I can think of right now is Yusuke Urameshi from Yu Yu Hakusho, who is apparently fourteen but acts older. Are there enough other examples to overturn my observations?