Reflection of ENG 212
Our first assignment was to remove melodrama from a passage of Harry Potter. We eliminated elegance in rhetoric, abbreviated descriptions, and in general made efforts to simplify the style, as if tone and vernacular were the only staple of melodrama. I chose the following passage from Sorcerer’s Stone (p. 298):
"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."
"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"
"No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share... not being truly alive, he can not be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time-- and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."
Harry nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made his head hurt. Then he said, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me... things I want to know the truth about..."
"The truth," Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."
And made it into this:
"Call him Voldemort, Harry. That's his name. Being afraid of it will just make you more afraid of him."
"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort is going to come back, right? He's not gone, is he?"
"No, Harry, he's not. He's out there. He cannot be killed. He let Quirrell die; he values the lives of his followers just as much as he values those of his enemies. But Harry, if people keep doing what you were able to do, he may never be able to regain power."
Harry nodded. "Sir, I have some questions for you. Things I want to know the truth about."
"The truth," Dumbledore started. "Can be good or bad, so we need to be careful with what we know and what we share. But I'll answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, and if that's the case I apologize. But what I do answer I will answer truthfully."
That was ignorant. My re-rewrite is this:
“ ”
(The above is not a typo.) Literature simply does not exist without melodrama. It does not matter if Hemingway soberly edited out anything elaborate from his drunk conceptions before publishing; he needs melodrama just as Twilight needs melodrama. Even non-fiction relies on melodrama; our second assignment was to examine the employment of melodrama in the communist manifesto; my favorite reading for this class was Anker’s Villains, Victims and Heroes, in which she outlines how news coverage of September 11 perpetuated moral dichotomy and instigated retaliatory action. In short, we are governed by melodramatic instincts, and all literature, all communication is a reaction to that.
In accordance with this, I just made that very melodramatic (by popular definition of the term) assertion. We like to keep things simple cognitively and ethically while keeping things elaborate and strong affectively.
The ultimate product of our course on melodrama was the research hypertext. This compounded implementation of tried and true melodrama with something we do not often produce in academic coursework: an original idea. My classmates seamlessly developed projects on the concealment of sexual assault on college campuses, the effectiveness of Khan Academy in addressing socioeconomic inequality, and the importance of remembering Holocaust stories. We joined modern conversation on issues which were important to us, and were challenged to contribute something new. And then we applied melodrama to ensure that our efforts to expand contemporary knowledge reached an audience broader than Dr. B and our classmates and our roommates who edit our blog posts.
So thank you to Dumbledore, for making melodrama look cool instead of cheap. And the biggest thank you to Dr. B for teaching us how to rediscover our creative capacities and make a difference in the world. Maybe one day my difference in the world will be more profound than a vulgar rewrite of Wrecking Ball.
"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."
"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"
"No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share... not being truly alive, he can not be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time-- and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."
Harry nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made his head hurt. Then he said, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me... things I want to know the truth about..."
"The truth," Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."
And made it into this:
"Call him Voldemort, Harry. That's his name. Being afraid of it will just make you more afraid of him."
"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort is going to come back, right? He's not gone, is he?"
"No, Harry, he's not. He's out there. He cannot be killed. He let Quirrell die; he values the lives of his followers just as much as he values those of his enemies. But Harry, if people keep doing what you were able to do, he may never be able to regain power."
Harry nodded. "Sir, I have some questions for you. Things I want to know the truth about."
"The truth," Dumbledore started. "Can be good or bad, so we need to be careful with what we know and what we share. But I'll answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, and if that's the case I apologize. But what I do answer I will answer truthfully."
That was ignorant. My re-rewrite is this:
“ ”
(The above is not a typo.) Literature simply does not exist without melodrama. It does not matter if Hemingway soberly edited out anything elaborate from his drunk conceptions before publishing; he needs melodrama just as Twilight needs melodrama. Even non-fiction relies on melodrama; our second assignment was to examine the employment of melodrama in the communist manifesto; my favorite reading for this class was Anker’s Villains, Victims and Heroes, in which she outlines how news coverage of September 11 perpetuated moral dichotomy and instigated retaliatory action. In short, we are governed by melodramatic instincts, and all literature, all communication is a reaction to that.
In accordance with this, I just made that very melodramatic (by popular definition of the term) assertion. We like to keep things simple cognitively and ethically while keeping things elaborate and strong affectively.
The ultimate product of our course on melodrama was the research hypertext. This compounded implementation of tried and true melodrama with something we do not often produce in academic coursework: an original idea. My classmates seamlessly developed projects on the concealment of sexual assault on college campuses, the effectiveness of Khan Academy in addressing socioeconomic inequality, and the importance of remembering Holocaust stories. We joined modern conversation on issues which were important to us, and were challenged to contribute something new. And then we applied melodrama to ensure that our efforts to expand contemporary knowledge reached an audience broader than Dr. B and our classmates and our roommates who edit our blog posts.
So thank you to Dumbledore, for making melodrama look cool instead of cheap. And the biggest thank you to Dr. B for teaching us how to rediscover our creative capacities and make a difference in the world. Maybe one day my difference in the world will be more profound than a vulgar rewrite of Wrecking Ball.