HARRY POTTER AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE

The wizard-in-training returns in the much anticipated fourth book

By Andrew Osmond     July 14, 2000

Without warning, Harry's scar exploded with pain. It was agony such as he had never felt in his life; his wand slipped from his fingers as he put his hands over his face; his knees buckled; he was on the ground and could see nothing at all, his head was about to split open.

From far away, above his head, he heard a high, cold voice say, 'Kill the spare.'

Dang. There goes the review plan.

And it all seemed so simple. For a good five-sixths of its extended length, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire is, well, a Harry Potter book. Those readers who've decided the series is sub-literate trash should expect no Damascene conversion. Rowling's writing is as plain (and occasionally bumpy) as ever. The plot, meanwhile, is largely business as usual--till the last sixth, that is. More on that later.

Those readers who adore Potter to bits--and that's a lot of you, if this week's sales figures are accurate--can rest easy, too. All the usual team are back, there are the expected laughs and thrills, and a generous mix of old friends and newcomers turn up for the ride. As for the floating voters who've yet to sample the series...well, don't try this book until you've read the first three.

In a break with tradition, the new tale begins, not with the characters' return to Hogwarts, but in the midst of the school holidays. Escaping the obnoxious (and frankly tiresome) Dursleys, Harry accompanies his Hogwarts friends to the Quidditch World Cup final. It's an enjoyable, very cinematic prelude and one of several ways in which Rowling broadens and consolidates her world. No, it's still impossible to picture the game itself, but the surrounding details are charming. There's a wonderful depiction of the rival magic cheerleader teams, with flying leprechauns versus siren-type seductresses. The game, sadly, has an unpleasant aftermath. Hooliganism isn't just for muggles in Rowling's world. Plenty of plot hints are dropped in this section, so stay alert.

More than a hundred pages in, we arrive at Hogwarts for Harry's fourth year. It's a familiar setting now, but in some ways that's an asset. The numerous references to what's gone before don't choke the story, but rather create a pleasing solidity. Like Harry, we know our way around now and there's a pleasure in revisiting old haunts. Even the characters are more tangible. One of the main charges against the former Potter books was that their protagonists were ciphers, plot functions. In Goblet, we learn more about several people's pasts and families, and see quite a few characters acting out of, well, character.

One strand explores how the friend of a hero might get fed up with being the sidekick. For anyone who remembers childhood falling-outs, this part of the tale is very convincing. Later, we get Hogwarts' junior version of prom night, with several people getting the chance to let off steam. It's an obvious plot development, but again nicely played. Rowling's characters are visibly growing up, even to the extent that they have to collect 'bubotuber'(!) pus to dodge acne. If Harry himself stays blank, his complex problems are well portrayed, and it's easy for the reader to sympathize. All in all, some parts of Goblet aren't eons removed from the school-angst fantasy of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

The Goblet of Fire binds the various episodes together. Hogwarts is hosting the Triwizard tournament, a prestigious inter-school competition where champions compete for fame and fortune. Harry is underage and apparently out of the running, but we readers know better. Sure enough, Harry's name emerges from said fiery goblet and he's forced to enter. The three tasks he has to complete are well-spaced through the book and genuinely exciting, though older readers will find the format familiar. (And it's a pity the Sphinx riddle, one of the sub-tasks, is so lame.) Like the Quidditch World Cup, the rival schools remind us that Hogwarts exists in a wider world of wizardry. The downside is that Rowling portrays cartoony foreigners, though they're no more offensive than Asterix.

One gripe: isn't it time Rowling did more with Hogwart's most interesting house, Slytherin? OK, so we know that Slytherins are crafty, ambitious and unscrupulous, and many go bad. So what better opportunity for an interesting, ambiguous character from the wrong side of the tracks, to create tension and dissent among our heroes? Instead, the rule still seems to be 'Slytherin equals bad,' and frankly the heckling, bullying Draco Malfoy--now there's a character for development--is getting stale. Again, there's a disconcerting scene where a first year is picked for Slytherin, and the good guys automatically hiss. I suspect readers might like to see more of that youngster, and how he feels about Hogwarts. Hey, isn't Harry Potter about underdogs?

There are other quibbles. An episode where Dudley (Harry's odious cousin) gets his comeuppance is more nasty than funny. A sub-plot about Hogwarts' house-elves feels dubious; it's too complex an issue to explore here, but may depend on what you made of the treatment of Toons in Roger Rabbit. Some Hogwarts material feels overfamiliar, even given the series format. (How many more deadly creatures can Hagrid adopt?) A bigger problem is that for much of the book, there's excitement, but scant tension. Despite the tournament, the stakes feel lower than in books two and three. There are intermittent chills--check out the spider-torturing scene--and numerous mysteries to puzzle through, but it all feels lightweight. Until...

Late in the book, Goblet takes a swerve into what can only be described as straight horror territory. It's not that we didn't expect it to get dark--Rowling puts a signpost in the very first chapter--but it happens with a suddenness that's almost Hitchcockian. It's not only the intensity that's surprising, grim though the book gets, but the ruthless way in which the preceding schoolyard japes are made bitterly irrelevant. Welcome to the real world, Potter. Without spoilers, Goblet of Fire ends in an utterly different place from where it started. Whether this makes the book 'grown-up' is debatable, but it's more than most fantasy franchises manage. As a bonus, the book rounds off with a solution to the main whodunnit that, even given magic leeway, is ingenious.

As Harry girds his loins for year five, two questions spring to mind. First, will the current generation of Potterphiles, many of whom are following their hero into adolescence, stay with him for the last three books? Conversely, are the books growing up too fast? It's all very well for jaded reviewers to extol rule-breaking, but most durable children's heroes are ageless, immutable. Might Harry leave his friends behind?

Personally, I think Rowling's gamble will pay off. She's drawn her readers in deep enough, told her story well enough, that her followers will stay for the duration. I know I will.