How does the writer impact the story?

[CryptofCthulhu]

And that, is precisely why I avoid any informations on my authors. Because I'd also be put off by their work if I discovered I didn't like their personality.

This being said, @CryptofCthulhu, what underlying motives are there, behind Harry Potter? If they aren't shoved down your eyes, I can't see the problem, in so far that most writers do have an underlying set of views that they try to convey through their work... Or else it'd all be like reading the Sun or whatnot.

Discrimination bad, racism bad (half bloods looked down on as being inferior, etc.), class-ism bad, etc. Nothing interesting or original about any of these topics. Makes it very simple to define the good guys and bad guys in the story. I guess it's fine if you are trying to explain things to children or young teens. It's just a run of the mill viewpoint on social issues.

Then you have her, for no apparent reason, deciding she wants to let everyone know that Dumbledore is actually gay. It's not hinted at in the story, or really all that relevant to it from what I've read in articles regarding the series. Just comes across as a "oh by the way guys I'm pro LGBT, see how progressive I am?"

It's just a sloppily transparent way of associating her politics with her book, even if nobody actually cares.

I'm not arguing morality here, just that how she presents herself to the public does nothing but motivate me to avoid reading her books even more.

It's also one of the reasons I avoid books aimed at the teenage demographic. I know YA is supposed to range up to 18-19 years old, but early to middle teens seems to be more of the median age group. The author has to limit the complexity of political/religious/social issues either because it has to be in line with what the target audience can actually comprehend, or they just aren't good at presenting them with any level of complexity in the first place.

[Nora]

Well yeah, but indeed, we're talking about YA so... I read the first HP book when I was 11 yo, exactly like the main character, and had caught up with the publishing dates by book 4, and was less and less interested by the series as it drew to a close, and never saw the last three movies either.
HP, to me, is iconic in the same way of other works I read as a young teen, but they remain there, because they can't really suffer adult perusal that well.

So having moral values roughly sketched isn't something I'd put against a book that can safely given to a ten years old.

[Yora]

Personally I prefer to read without knowing the author's personality, then again after knowing about it - it brings more light to the nuances. But I can see why some prefer not to and short of very serious criminality or being very vocally annoying, I don't care too much about what the author is like. That's a different matter though.

I think the best way to promote any idea or opinion in a book is to present compelling arguments on a topic and leave it at that. If you're arguments are good, you don't need to tell readers what you think about the issue and what you want them to think.
Soapboxing either inside the story or as a commentary shouldn't be necessary and distracts more than it enlightens.

[Peat]

Personally I prefer to read without knowing the author's personality, then again after knowing about it - it brings more light to the nuances. But I can see why some prefer not to and short of very serious criminality or being very vocally annoying, I don't care too much about what the author is like. That's a different matter though.

I think the best way to promote any idea or opinion in a book is to present compelling arguments on a topic and leave it at that. If you're arguments are good, you don't need to tell readers what you think about the issue and what you want them to think.
Soapboxing either inside the story or as a commentary shouldn't be necessary and distracts more than it enlightens.

Agreed - but knowing about the author isn't always about their arguments/philosophy, sometimes it's as simple as knowing what their life experience was and seeing their writing in a new light because of it.

[ultamentkiller]

I read Harry Potter when I was 9 or 10. I think that's one of the series that taught me not everyone is who they seem to be. By the end of the series, I went from hating one character to really respecting him. As far as the political stuff, I didn't pick up on it. The conflict made sense to me. Maybe if I read it for the first time now I would get it, or maybe even in a reread. It never seemed essential to the story. I get what's being said about the mudbloods and purebloods and all that, but it felt more like nobility verses peasants at the time. And by that, I mean the purebloods held themselves up more like nobility, and lots of them seemed to have family money. Rich VS. Poor. That's a story that continues to be good I think.

I also can't deny the effect it's had on people's lives. I think it's a bit overrated, but it's hooked people into reading books. People who were told they never could. I have a dislexic(I can't spell that) friend who never wanted to read because it was too hard. Then she picked up those books in 5th grade and bam! Also, if what I hear is true, it's kept people from committing suicide, because they've found peace in the world. It's also one of the rare series where the movie adaptations didn't screw it up terribly. So I have deep respect for her in what she accomplished.

Those are the reasons I'm going to reread them. So I can see what effect they may have had on me as a kid, and on others. It didn't feel like there was one at the time, but there's something.

[shadowkat678]

I read Harry Potter when I was 9 or 10. I think that's one of the series that taught me not everyone is who they seem to be. By the end of the series, I went from hating one character to really respecting him. As far as the political stuff, I didn't pick up on it. The conflict made sense to me. Maybe if I read it for the first time now I would get it, or maybe even in a reread. It never seemed essential to the story. I get what's being said about the mudbloods and purebloods and all that, but it felt more like nobility verses peasants at the time. And by that, I mean the purebloods held themselves up more like nobility, and lots of them seemed to have family money. Rich VS. Poor. That's a story that continues to be good I think.

I also can't deny the effect it's had on people's lives. I think it's a bit overrated, but it's hooked people into reading books. People who were told they never could. I have a dislexic(I can't spell that) friend who never wanted to read because it was too hard. Then she picked up those books in 5th grade and bam! Also, if what I hear is true, it's kept people from committing suicide, because they've found peace in the world. It's also one of the rare series where the movie adaptations didn't screw it up terribly. So I have deep respect for her in what she accomplished.

Those are the reasons I'm going to reread them. So I can see what effect they may have had on me as a kid, and on others. It didn't feel like there was one at the time, but there's something.

Exactly. Here's a few stories I've come across about it:

How Harry Potter Saved My Life
Dylan Carlson

“I’m sorry, all of the Goosebumps have been checked out, but we did just get this back.”

I was handed a book that was unmistakably new, but had seen heavy use in its short time at the West Kearns Elementary library. It had the look of a book in which the pages had been turned faster than any 2nd grade student could possibly read. This along with the still glossy cover of a small, scarred, dark haired boy speeding through the air on a broomstick was enough to push the R.L. Stein request out of my head. I certainly didn’t need any new horror in my life anyway.

“Make sure to check back in if you can’t finish it in time. This book is normally reserved for the older students.”

Time, however, was not an issue. I spent all of my time either sitting on the floor in front of a small television or wandering alone through my neighborhood and, all too often, beyond. These were both mediums to keep me occupied while my parents kept themselves anesthetized with whatever means they had procured (and later, cooked) that particular week. There are few greater enemies for an eight-year-old than abandon and loneliness, so I more than welcomed the company of the young bespectacled wizard.

That same day I arrived home, book in hand, to a smoky front room filled with a destitute handful of adults. I walked straight through to my room, unnoticed, a scrawny boy marching across the battlefield I’d become desensitized to. However, just like the small boy I was about to meet between the pages in my very hand, I much preferred the silence of neglect over whatever slurs their consciences could get out at the sight of an adolescent in such a tawdry environment. I began cooking Macaroni and Cheese, popped the tab of a Coke can and left my life for a couple hours.

I was whisked away from the dirt and grime of my reality, and swept into breathtaking adventures with those who quickly became my closest allies. I was no longer surrounded by chipped plates peppered with month old rancid leftovers. Instead I was able to spend entire days with Harry, Ron and Hermione in the cushy chairs of the Gryffindor common room. Or even out at the Quidditch pitch filled with the adrenaline and applause of an entire castle.

Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.

I continued to follow The Boy Who Lived through his tumultuous years at Hogwarts. I was with Harry and Ron, on the back of Fawkes the phoenix, as they rose out of the chamber of secrets. I shed tears along with the entire Great Hall after the death of Cedric Diggory. I beamed at Hermione, along with everyone else to have met her, in awe and admiration of her repeated brilliance. My fists even rose before Hagrid’s at the utterance of an insult directed at Albus Dumbledore.

Though, in order to have such an impact, Harry Potter did not comfort me solely as a distraction. I was also learning lessons. I was finding many more parallels than you would expect between a melancholy boy and a wizard famed for defeating the most evil villain to have ever lived. To me, the boy under the staircase was no different from the boy under the cigarette burned blanket. But Harry showed me that a large amount of evil can be weathered by sheer bravery and kindness. Ron taught me that fierce friendship is often more reassuring than any safeguard or armor. Hermione imparted within me the importance of justice, learning and true boldness.

Sadly enough, however much The Chosen One helped me through my turmoil, I was still in it. And that is also not to pretend that it never got worse. It always did.

Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human … the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength.

My mom’s first overdose, me being removed by DCFS, my dad’s attempted suicide, and my mom’s subsequent overdoses and eventual suicide all happened alongside Harry’s equally arduous years. We braved them together. There were times when it seemed pointless to fight, times when it seemed I would drown in the empty coffee cups piling around me and the circumstances I was so unfairly born in to. But again, a curious skinny teenage boy was able to teach me that being defeated by either surrendering to circumstance,  or with your wand raised at the heart your opponent, are two vastly different things. Hagrid’s strong hands seemed to support me physically, and Dumbledore's odd brand of wisdom did the same for me emotionally.

It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew – and so do I, thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents – that there was all the difference in the world.

There eventually came a time, however, when I wondered whether I had become too scarred, too battle worn and blemished to ever be a truly good person. I had been born into a dark place and, while I was alive, I didn’t feel exactly untouched. More often than I’d like to admit, I nearly resigned all of my will to do and be good, and instead take the path that I was born on into addiction and mistreatment. How could I be anything but foul with so much ugliness constantly surrounding me?

It is our choices, Harry, that show us who we truly are, far more than our abilities.

But as I’m sure you can guess by now, Harry James Potter again came crashing down on a dragon, not only saving the wizarding world, but myself included. Harry showed me that even with a piece of the most vicious soul to exist living inside you, you can still have the courage to make the right choice. Sirius left his entire family at the age of sixteen illustrating what Dumbledore echoed, “It matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be.” And so I made my choice, and continue to make it every day.

This is why a skinny bespectacled boy is not only The Boy Who Lived, but will always be the boy who kept me living.

Harry Potter didn’t cross my path until I was in my late teens, and I wasn’t entirely ready to go back to a world of magical boarding schools again.

Then the Mirror of Erised changed my mind.

My mother had passed away by the time I read Philosopher’s Stone as a student and even though I had never been an 11-year-old boy wizard, I understood a little of how Harry felt.

I was all caught up by the time Deathly Hallows was published. I remember staying up to read it through the night and ending up in floods of tears as Lily Potter said to Harry: “You’ve been so brave.” Those are the kind of words you long to hear when you’ve lost a parent. These stories hit you where you live sometimes, in the most beautiful way.

 ‘I came to love the Harry Potter stories at a time in my life when I really needed to remember that you can come back from a loss a lot stronger than you ever thought possible.’ Photograph: Murray Close/AP
You tend to gravitate towards things when you need them most. The album that got you through high school, the film that changed your life. I think I came to love the Harry Potter stories at a time in my life when I really needed to remember that you can come back from a loss a lot stronger than you ever thought possible.

It’s strange though, because there seems to be a line that Harry Potter crosses with some fantasy fans – as if it’s somehow childish, because it’s about children. What got me into the series wasn’t that I grew up alongside Ron, Harry and Hermione but that I could relate to what they’d lost, what they were trying to protect. And because it’s littered with beautiful notions like banishing fear with laughter, or being able to defeat something that’s determined to snuff out your happiness with a joyful thought.

I’ve always loved to read – it’s why I studied English, it’s why I wanted to become a writer. I now work for [the Harry Potter website] Pottermore and I honestly have to pinch myself just about every day. As a lover of the written word, it’s such a special world to be a part of.

It’s my job to love Harry Potter, but it’s also a joy.

“That which Voldemort does not value, he takes no trouble to understand. Of house-elves and children’s tales, of love, loyalty, and innocence, Voldemort knows and understands nothing. Nothing. That they all have a power…beyond the reach of any magic, is a truth he has never grasped.”

She handed me a dog-eared book whose pages fanned out like a bird’s wings poised for flight. The cracked spine and folded pages spoke of a well loved story.
 
“I know you have a lot of time on your hands right now,” she explained. “I think that you’d like this book. It might help take your mind off things for a while.”
 
It was true; I did have a lot of time on my hands. Since I had withdrawn from school I divided my days between the hospital and home. At the hospital I was subjected to a battery of tests that my doctors hoped would lead to a diagnosis. They poked and prodded me, ran ultrasounds and full body scans, testing for everything from leukemia to valley fever. I was sent to more specialists than I can count and all sent me home with the same report, “According to our tests, there is nothing wrong with you”. At home I let myself collapse under the weight of anxiety, uncertainty, and fear. Physically I was a mess, sleeping fourteen hours one day and staying up for thirty-six hours straight the next. On top of the exhaustion there was a host of bizarre and frightening symptoms: fevers approaching one hundred and five, outbreaks of angry hives all over my body, and stabbing pains so intense that I would wake up crying in the middle of the night from the pain of it. Emotionally I was hanging on, but the tethers that bound me to hope were slowly beginning to fray.
 
So on the afternoon that my friend stopped by after school to deliver some words of encouragement and a tattered book, I was more than willing to accept a distraction. I thanked her for the book and set it down next to my makeshift bed on the couch. We talked some more about school. She passed me a stack of notes she had collected from my classmates, all embellished with hearts and flowers, all saying how much I was missed and how much they hoped I would feel better soon. When it was time for her to go I was left alone with the tokens of her stay: a pile of well wishes strewn across my lap and one boy wizard.
 
Later that night, when all the house was silent and everyone else had long since gone to bed, I lay awake on the couch downstairs. Propped up by a mound of pillows that cushioned my aching frame, I picked up the book once more. The light from the lamp poured over me, pooling in my lap so that the words Harry Potter shone out bright and inviting against the matte cover. Ignoring the stabs of pain in my back, I opened the book and began to read:
 
…A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous […] He couldn’t know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: “To Harry Potter–the boy who lived!”
 
And although I had no way of knowing it then, The-boy-who-lived was to become an important part of my life in the coming months and years. Opening that first book was like opening a window into another world; a world where my worries and pain were subsumed in an atmosphere of magic and adventure. Physically I might be stuck in the hospital waiting for my weekly blood tests, but in my imagination I was wandering the halls of Hogwarts with Harry, Ron and Hermione. While a part of me might be sitting at home, immobilized by pain and exhaustion, another part was trekking through the Forbidden Forest in the dead of night. School might be barred to me in real life, but there was always a place for me at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
 
I read the first book in a matter of days and then promptly read it again. My mother soon devised a new reward system: every time I made it through another round of medical tests, she would take me to the bookstore to buy the next Harry Potter. The anticipation of another book, another year at Hogwarts, helped me get through the six months of testing leading up to my diagnosis.
 
Beyond the delightful possibilities presented by the world of Harry Potter, I was drawn to the personalities and struggles of the characters. In many ways they each became my teacher and my friend. Harry taught me what it meant to be courageous in the face of loss, to not let your identity be dictated by the tragedies of your past. As Harry struggled to find some measure of understanding and acceptance of his story–that of a boy orphaned by murder and stalked by a strange and terrible destiny–his struggles gave voice to my own. There were other lessons as well. Ron taught me the value of a loyal friend, while I learned the importance of combining intellect with justice and mercy from Hermione. The real world seemed populated by people who had no answers for me and nothing meaningful to say; but in Albus Dumbledore I had someone of unfailing wisdom and compassion. No matter what I was facing I could always crack open a copy of Harry Potter and find characters who had faced down greater terrors with courage and conviction.
 
Aristotle said that poetry–meaning fictional epics such as The Odyssey–was better than history, because while history can only tell us what has happened, poetry–or fiction–tells us what could happen. History is specific to one moment and place in time. Fiction can broaden our experiences beyond what is possible within the context of our own lives. Fiction stretches the mind in a way that nothing else is capable of.
 
I spent my teenage years coming to grips with the realities of a life with chronic illness. In many ways that struggle threatened to consume my identity, so that I was in danger of allowing my illness to become my life. For a child or teenager, someone who is at the beginning of their journey of self-discovery, the capacity to imagine, to dream of realities beyond what we can see right in front of us, is a gift of incalculable value. Harry Potter helped me to look beyond my own fear and pain, beyond my life that seemed ready to crumble to pieces, by immersing me in a story larger than myself.
 
At its best, fiction allows us to transcend our own experiences, to move deeper into the common joys and sorrows, hopes and follies that make us human. Literature has the capacity to enable us, as Atticus Finch says, to step into another person’s shoes and walk around for a while. At its best, literature can speak into our own lives by teaching us what it means to have courage, showing us the value of sacrifice and conviction, and pressing deep into our hearts narratives of truth and love. I, for one, owe a great debt of gratitude to a scrawny young boy who came alongside me during one of the darkest, most difficult times in my life. His journey has been my journey; I have lent him my time and attention and he has lent me the courage to live and imagine an extraordinary life.

Like the books or not, this is what I meant by the impact books like Harry Potter cause. That's what I aim for in my writing. To give comfort to one other person, hope, inspiration is all I'd ask for. J.K. had a lot of problems going on in her childhood, and how she put those in these pages forged a connection for others feeling loneliness or alienation. I came across the series during a very difficult time, and I wasn't even allowed to read it, but I did anyway because...I honestly don't know what made me pick up the first book. I just did, and I think it's the characters that really helped me through it. Hermione, Remus, Luna, and Tonks most of all. I connected to the way Luna was bullied for her differences, Tonks' ability to be herself even though she could look however she wished, Remus' disabilities and hardships caused by something uncontrollable, and Hermione trying so desperately to fit into a new world and prove herself. You know?

[CryptofCthulhu]

Well yeah, but indeed, we're talking about YA so... I read the first HP book when I was 11 yo, exactly like the main character, and had caught up with the publishing dates by book 4, and was less and less interested by the series as it drew to a close, and never saw the last three movies either.
HP, to me, is iconic in the same way of other works I read as a young teen, but they remain there, because they can't really suffer adult perusal that well.

So having moral values roughly sketched isn't something I'd put against a book that can safely given to a ten years old.

I had my driver's license by the time the first HP book was published. And even as a kid I doubt I would have identified with HP. He's kind of the representation of the 98lb weakling that makes something of himself. I was looking up to guys like Schwarzenegger and Stallone when I was a kid.

[marshall_lamour]

I think the best way to promote any idea or opinion in a book is to present compelling arguments on a topic and leave it at that. If you're arguments are good, you don't need to tell readers what you think about the issue and what you want them to think.
Soapboxing either inside the story or as a commentary shouldn't be necessary and distracts more than it enlightens.

What might be even more compelling is to demonstrate the shortcomings and utter failures of whatever values you hold dear. This might even mean making your villains the agents of your most deeply held ideals or discontent, or you would at least make your heroes that of your most romantic notions or simply the arbiter of your conflicting values. Either way, putting them through the wringer as both a trial by fire for your values and as a way to assert their worthiness, however precarious or even ruinous, is probably the greatest service possible to those values. I suppose this is largely the element of tragedy.

The triumph of the author's own values in the story's underpinnings should be the questions aroused in the reader's own mind, and to no lesser extent, in the mind author. All work is essentially autobiographical, and if the author is unwilling or unable to wrangle with their own bias, it will show more plainly than if they were to tackle it in a deliberate and artful fashion.

[CryptofCthulhu]

Tolkien said in no uncertain terms that LOTR was not an allegory and that he doesn't even like allegory. Regardless, it brings up a ton of different topics that have been discussed for decades.

[shadowkat678]

Tolkien said in no uncertain terms that LOTR was not an allegory and that he doesn't even like allegory. Regardless, it brings up a ton of different topics that have been discussed for decades.

And Balm said the Oz books were just a fun children's book made to entertain. Tolkien also talked to Lewis about how he was failing in that regard. Look at his letters.

[CryptofCthulhu]

Tolkien said in no uncertain terms that LOTR was not an allegory and that he doesn't even like allegory. Regardless, it brings up a ton of different topics that have been discussed for decades.

And Balm said the Oz books were just a fun children's book made to entertain. Tolkien also talked to Lewis about how he was failing in that regard. Look at his letters.

Well it's hard to ignore your life experiences and how they shape your writing, but it doesn't mean you have to be overt about the "message" you are trying to convey with the story. I plan on tackling a whole lot of hot-button issues, but hopefully with as much subtlety as possible.

[shadowkat678]

True enough. However, considering how many people have managed to miss the message of Franz Kafka's Metamorphosis, which seemed obvious to me on my first read. However, that could have been do to my own experiences.

[marshall_lamour]

Tolkien said in no uncertain terms that LOTR was not an allegory and that he doesn't even like allegory. Regardless, it brings up a ton of different topics that have been discussed for decades.

Just because an author didn't explicitly or even tacitly employ allegory doesn't mean that it cannot be reasonably surmised from the outcome of their work. An author can either harness or embrace this dimension of their work or spend a lifetime refuting it. Personally, I prefer work which trascends simple allegory, but I believe that a writer needs to first grasp whatever bias comes through their work before they can hope to reach beyond it.

I feel that it's as much the author's duty not to publicly assign some hidden meaning to their work as to not outright dismiss whatever meaning readers might surmise. If what is surmised is so abhorrent to the author that they feel moved to refute it, perhaps it's more aptly a failure on their part, rather than the readers'. Furthermore, an artist may very well not fully grasp every dimension of their own work and should be either open to discourse on the matter or otherwise simply set the work free.

[Nora]

Well yeah, but indeed, we're talking about YA so... I read the first HP book when I was 11 yo, exactly like the main character, and had caught up with the publishing dates by book 4, and was less and less interested by the series as it drew to a close, and never saw the last three movies either.
HP, to me, is iconic in the same way of other works I read as a young teen, but they remain there, because they can't really suffer adult perusal that well.

So having moral values roughly sketched isn't something I'd put against a book that can safely given to a ten years old.

I had my driver's license by the time the first HP book was published. And even as a kid I doubt I would have identified with HP. He's kind of the representation of the 98lb weakling that makes something of himself. I was looking up to guys like Schwarzenegger and Stallone when I was a kid.

I never said you should identify to HP, if reading these books. Man, that's a bit of a sophism on your part. I'm saying it's a kid's book, and that even if you wouldn't have liked it at age ten, you still probably woudn't have picked on the stuff you find exasperating now as an adult. You don't have to look up to the MC of your book to enjoy it. Reading is a lot about widening your own views on the world by seeing it through someone else's eyes, isn't it?

[shadowkat678]

Also, Tolkin put a LOT of time into his world and its stories. He's bound to have drawn from his interests, especially in history and linguistics. Certainly parts of him in there. Drew a lot from his war experiences, and his distaste for the quickly progressing technology of the time is pretty evident in the Elven and Hobbit lifestyles where the Orcs are the only truly industrialized beings, and maybe the Dwarves who are known to be greedy. I did a paper on it.

Edit: Agreeing completely with what Nora says above.