Wednesday, February 10, 2016

The Sorting Hat & How Fanboyism Creates Children

Over at Castalia House, contributor Anthony has written about the much underrated and overlooked Hogwart's House, Hufflepuff. It's a really nice read, so check it out if you have the time.

His article inspired me to take the Sorting Hat "quiz," which placed me in Gryffindor. I later went to the wand portion of Pottermore to receive my wand. The wand that "chose" me after a series of questions was made of Acacia wood with a Phoenix feather core.


The Pottermore site, in late January, has been re-booted since its inception in 2011, with J.K. Rowling herself making the questions for the Sorting Hat. In the initial version of the sorting the questions weren't under her care and with this change the new version is seen as more legitimate.

When I took the quiz I was too preoccupied on answering the questions honestly, not trying to game the system in order to get into a particular house. I was too intrigued in the process to worry about whether or not I'd be a Slytherin or a Ravenclaw. Whatever house I was sorted into I would accept, even if it weren't my preference (if I had to choose I'd pick Hufflepuff).

Regarding the questions, I was met with some random ones that gave me no background, as in "heads or tails?" so I made up scenarios of what "heads" would be and what "tails" would be.  In this case I thought of "heads" to be the on the forefront, the popular one, the one that the public recognizes. The "tails" part I pictured as behind-the-scenes where the work was done in order for the "heads" to function. I picked "tails." That was my reasoning to that particular question.

I later learned that the reincarnation of the Sorting Hat "quiz" created some identity problems to those who already thought of themselves belonging to one house, or those that took the 2011 version and was sorted into another. There are debates that the quiz practices random selectivity while others say it's a decent mini-Meyer Briggs test. People who thought of themselves as Ravenclaws and were re-sorted into, say, Slytherin seem offended. Badgers turned into lions! Oh my!

I understand that people have grown attached to a particular house given how the books framed the identity of each, but these aren't teenagers or pre-teens having issues. Grown adults with full-time jobs paying taxes are putting on their frown face. Would I liked to have been sorted to Hufflepuff? Yes. When Gryffindor showed up I was surprised yet a little disappointed, but after a couple of minutes I accepted it and proceeded to get my wand, a far more interesting aspect of the two processes in my eyes. Over at Vox Day, this post summed it up well (quote within post) -
What Rowling really, really nailed is what magic would look like to a child. The nonsensical plots and world building largely result from this, and I think a lot of it was intentional. It was, after all, a series aimed at children. The hardcore love of the series from adults is a sign of a generation (or more than one, since it's huge with both Boomers and Millennials) that hasn't fully grown up.

To be clear, I say that as a fan of the series - but not a hardcore fan.
I attribute the recent "identity crisis" (and hours of discussion dedicated to it) as proof of this Peter Pan mentality.

As you read the virtues of each house, one should be honored to be accepted into either one despite initial wants. A reasonable mind would notice that even the average person would excel in any number of houses, not just one, since the virtues can overlap, and as people age and experience life the less dominant virtues can surface given their predicament. If it weren't for Rowling's simplistic division of "good vs bad" guys, Gryffindor vs Slytherin, the supporting cast of Ravenclaws and the emasculation of Hufflepuff this "identity crisis" would be less fervent.

Once we just focus on the virtues,we discover that each house is admirable. A well-balanced person would wear their house colors with pride even if they thought of themselves as a Hufflepuff who was sorted into Gryffindor.

Let me use these two houses as examples. Hufflepuff is said to value "hard work, dedication, patience, loyalty, and fair play." That's all well and good. I already have some of these virtues and some I want to refine. Let's look at Gryffindor.  The house "values bravery, daring, nerve, and chivalry." I think that's amazing. I consider myself chivalrous and to some extent  brave. But daring and having nerves? Maybe. I ca see myself excelling in Gryffindor since I enjoy sports (Gryffindor is seen as the jock house). I think self-sacrifice is important, especially for one's country, so I can attribute that standard to a "Gryffindor-esque" quality.

How about Ravenclaw and Slytherin? I will say that I hold some of their virtues as well. My love of learning, for learning's sake, is within me. There are certain things I want to accomplish and resourcefulness is something I've grown to appreciate. A man who isn't resourceful is a stunted man in my eyes.

After all the "you can't define me/put me in a box" and the initial "no labels" movement it is telling -hypocritical mostly - on how people are passionate (as one writer puts it) to stay with a given house based on certain virtues, as if those virtues totally define you. And this is over fictionalized world-building. Have fun with it, learn about your given house. To agonize over it in the guise of "passion" is to further ignore reality and to demonstrate a lack of perspective.

It also makes me picture a child with his mother at a candy shop, holding her hand, with tears in eyes screaming, "No, I want that one! The big one! No! The red and blue one!" as he stomps his feet and points wildly. It's candy kid, calm down. Your mom's buying you a piece regardless. She doesn't have to, but she's doing it because she loves you. Or that if she doesn't you won't shut up.

I find the amount of heartache over being resorted a bit embarrassing. Being sorted into one house doesn't dictate or say you lack any virtue that another prides itself for. After all, if there's any spectrum within the human condition it's the spectrum of potential.

I believe I've written enough about the houses, so I'll pay my attention to my wand, which, as I said, was a far more interesting result than being put into Gryffindor. My wand, a wand made out of Acacia wood with a Phoenix core, 10" long and flexible sounds badass. According to the Pottermore wiki site,
A very unusual wand wood, which I have found creates tricky wands that often refuse to produce magic for any but their owner, and also withhold their best effects from all but those most gifted. This sensitivity renders them difficult to place, and I keep only a small stock for those witches or wizards of sufficient subtlety, for acacia is not suited to what is commonly known as 'bangs-and-smells' magic. When well-matched, an acacia wand matches any for power, though it is often underrated due to the peculiarity of its temperament.
Truly interesting. How about the Phoenix core?
This is the rarest core type. Phoenix feathers are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer than either unicorn or dragon cores to reveal this. They show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards dislike.
Phoenix feather wands are always the pickiest when it comes to potential owners, for the creature from which they are taken is one of the most independent and detached in the world. These wands are the hardest to tame and to personali[s]e, and their allegiance is usually hard won.
On my wand length and flexibility -
Many wandmakers simply match the wand length to the size of the witch or wizard who will use it, but this is a crude measure, and fails to take into account many other, important considerations. In my experience, longer wands might suit taller wizards, but they tend to be drawn to bigger personalities, and those of a more spacious and dramatic style of magic. Neater wands favour more elegant and refined spell-casting. However, no single aspect of wand composition should be considered in isolation of all the others, and the type of wood, the core and the flexibility may either counterbalance or enhance the attributes of the wand’s length.
Most wands will be in the range of between nine and fourteen inches. While I have sold extremely short wands (eight inches and under) and very long wands (over fifteen inches), these are exceptionally rare. In the latter case, a physical peculiarity demanded the excessive wand length. However, abnormally short wands usually select those in whose character something is lacking, rather than because they are physically undersized (many small witches and wizards are chosen by longer wands).
Wand flexibility or rigidity denotes the degree of adaptability and willingness to change possessed by the wand-and-owner pair - although, again, this factor ought not to be considered separately from the wand wood, core and length, nor of the owner’s life experience and style of magic, all of which will combine to make the wand in question unique.
On numerous tumblr wand analysis sites, they deem anything within 9-10" as a lack of confidence or character. If people have issues with being sorted in the wrong house I find this metric lazy; it's the bigger offense. (Ideally I would've preferred my wand to be between 11-12".) I also find it a little counter-intuitive. If you lack self-esteem and you get a short wand that corresponds to that mental weakness, that wouldn't actually help the situation. And if you had a lot of confidence - and turn out to be a somewhat overrated wizard - that 11"+ would be a misnomer.

Besides that qualm I'm rather pleased with my wand. A rare wood that only answers to its master, needs subtlety to function, paired with a Phoenix core - an interesting combination. As with the flexibility, meh. The description made sense until it pulled the "ya know, it all kinda depends on where the person is coming from ... " card. In other words it's hot air. It goes one way, then another, then it says it's both.

With all that said, I shall hunt for a handmade Gryffindor scarf, for the weather outside calls for it.

Note: J.K. Rowling was sorted into Hufflepuff despite her thinking that if anyone was a Gryffindor it would be her. Now, that seems like entitlement. Slytherin, anyone?

1 comment :

Anonymous said...

I unashamedly love "Harry Potter" (and I think Vox Day and the thread commenters went a bit too far bashing it). I literally grew up with the series. I started reading it sometime between the ages of 10 and 12 (I THINK I actually was 11) and finished at 16, one year off of Harry's 17.

This test is the same as the old one. My theory: Because Pottermore had actual house points and a house cup, Rowling had to weight the test. It wasn't random, but when houses needed more people it would give more weight to certain houses on certain questions.

With no more house cup on Pottermore, the weighting can be dropped - and so the new test is more accurate. Hufflepuff is a MUCH better fit for me than Ravenclaw, my original house. Literally every other test I've taken places me in Hufflepuff, from simplistic to detailed. It's my obvious fit.

(My wand was maple and phoenix feather. And despite being short, I reached 11"! Nice.)

My theory on Harry Potter: The tonal difference between books 1-2 and books 4-7 is so stark that it makes mincemeat of the series' logic (wisely, book 3 was used as a bridge, and in consequence it strikes the perfect balance between the two tones and is the best book in the series - dementors are one of the most frightening fictional creatures EVER for my money).

Both halves of the series, the children's half (if we can call it "half") and the teenage half are quite well executed. Rowling is a very good writer, with a keen sense of humor, vivid characters, and expert plotting (Yep - the plots fall apart when scrutinized but she handles foreshadowing BRILLIANTLY and knows how to execute a good twist, even if she's a little too keen on exposition). The problem is that the teenage half of the series is forced to live with plot and world-building decisions made in the children's half.

When the series as a whole is looked at as a teenage series books 1 and 2 particularly are absurd and near-nonsensical. When looked at as a children's series books four through seven are, for my money, way too dark for the eight to eleven year olds who were appropriate for books one and two, and themes and concepts get explored seriously that work better as simple plot devices (such as, say, the sorting system).

When looked as two distinct series' it all makes more sense. It's still a flaw, but it helps you recognize why there seems to be such a disconnect. Books four through seven are good, but they are NOT books one and two.

I will write a longer article on this for Castalia one day.