Book Review: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, by J.K. Rowling (2000)




I didn’t read Harry Potter as a child, partly because I worked Saturdays in a book shop. My main responsibility was keeping the shelves nicely stacked, and the storeroom was down two narrow flights of stairs. I remember some of the titles that made me trudge wearily down those stairs, and, heavily laden, back up again – Bridget Jones’ Diary, the Ramses series, Stalingrad, Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus – but none made me work harder than Harry Potter. The only times we ever had people queueing at the door in the morning was when a new book was released from Hogwarts. And of course, each one was a little bit fatter and heavier than the last. Yes, I resented Harry Potter.

But that didn’t make me a Slytherin, and quite a few years after moving on from the book shop, I finally embarked on the wizarding adventure, hoping that book one (The Philosopher’s Stone) would persuade my daughter to move on from Disney’s Frozen. We have now finished book four (The Goblet of Fire) together (she reads the first few pages of each chapter, then I take over), and we have both become avid fans.

I had read somewhere that this instalment makes a real step up in terms of quality of writing or depth of story, but I don’t really agree. The quality is simply maintained, and new layers of intrigue daubed liberally onto an already well-coated canvass of fascinating characters, creatures, and magical abilities. If anything, the start of this one didn’t appeal to me so much. If there is one thing I prefer about the muggle world, it’s that we have football rather than quidditch, and so the Quidditch World Cup in the opening chapters didn’t especially entice me, plus I struggled to fully familiarise myself with some of the new characters (specifically, who exactly is Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch?) – if you read these books with a young child, be warned that the stream of questions is endless.

However, once Harry, Ron and Hermione get back to Hogwarts, things really get good again. Of course, this school is the last place any sane person would send their daughter or son, given its history of mishaps and the fact it has a hospital wing that is regularly called upon. This year the staff even contrive to let a student die at the climax of the Triwizard Tournament, but perhaps the return of Lord Voldemort represents mitigating circumstances.

The thing I appreciate the most about these books, and this one in particular, is the humour woven into the individual characters and the situations they find themselves in. We were regularly laughing out loud and frequently re-reading favourite passages to enjoy again something stupid that Ron or Hagrid said or did. Beside the fantastic spin it puts on her imagination, bonding with my daughter like this is something special. Also, the subtle and accurate way in which the young characters grow and mature with each school year is expertly done.

The next instalment already awaits us. Just as I remember, it is fatter and heavier than the last. However, I’m certain I will willingly spring downstairs to pick it up at my daughter’s bedtime – starting soon. We mark the end of each book by watching the film version of what we have just read, and, good as they are, this offers yet another lesson – a film is never as good as the book!

Favourite Character: My favourite Harry Potter character is the always indecipherable Severus Snape. From this book in particular, it’s hard not to get emotionally on board with Harry himself. But perhaps for their comedy value – Madame Maxime or Fleur Delacour.



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