Nostalgia

I had my first Harry Potter conversation a little while ago. And it was good. I sat down with a few friends and had a long reminisce about key points of the series, favourite moments, stupid names of spells and that sort of thing.

I suspect I need to clarify this with yet another disappointing knock to my street cred: I really liked the Harry Potter series. They were great kids books. I doubt very much that I’d have bothered reading them if I’d encountered them as an adult, but I was eleven when I read the first one (so there!) and Harry Potter aged much as I did- same year in school and all that.

Admittedly his schooldays were a lot more interesting: nighttime wanderings and lost uncles and broomstick rides. Whereas mine consisted largely of long breakfasts at the local Tesco’s, scheming on girls and trying to avoid being exposed as a wuss in P.E. (Never get near the ball, shout a lot, try and partner with people noticeably shitter than you.)

I hadn’t really thought much about the Harry Potter books since I finished the last one. By then I was on the cusp of adulthood (and what a long and ever receding cusp that seems to be), and the plot holes seemed a little wider than they had before, but I had enough affection for the characters to carry me through. Say what you like about ol’ J.K. but she can certainly hurry a plot along, and she’s got a nice flair for ramping up the tension in big set pieces. (Mrs. Rowling, if you are reading and wish to reward me for this plug, I would like a million pounds, or whatever you earn in interest in a four hour period. Whichever is greater.)

I don’t watch the films, because they’re rubbish. So not only is there nothing to remind me of the books unless I choose to read them again, there’s also nothing to take the shine off. Harry Potter will remain where he belongs, well in the realms of nostalgia.

Dara O’Briain once said that “Nostalgia is just heroin for old people,” and I can see his point. Just because the present is difficult (and I’m not denying it is), doesn’t mean the past was much better. A return to ‘past values’ is naïve- if the values are worthwhile to implement NOW then they ought to be, and crucially shouldn’t have been allowed to slip in the first place. If you miss the best bits of yesterday than bloody well live like it was then instead of now, and set yourself as an example to others.

The nostalgia I’m on about refers to the collective remembrance of a shared experience. It is, by implication, positive (negative memories inspire reminiscence of a different sort). This does not mean, however, that there is any real desire to have the past back, is there?

Perhaps you are familiar with, or have even taken part, in the following conversation. It is oft overheard in pubs and living rooms, anywhere where 15- 25 year olds can associate with added alcohol. It runs like so:

Person 1: Do you remember [TV show from childhood]?

Person 2: Oh God, yeah. [catchphrase from show]!

Person 3: Did you have the toys as well?

Person 1 : Yeah, I had the [generic merchandising item].

Person 2: I was never allowed to have them. My mum said they were too expensive.

Person 1: Did they get banned at your primary school eventually?

Person 3: Oh, yeah.

Person 2: I can still sing the theme song!

[Persons 2 and 3 sing the theme song in its entirety, Person 1 looks vaguely embarrassed]

Person 1 (after sufficient time has elapsed): What about [TV show from childhood]?

Person 2: Haha, yeah!

All: [Catchphrase from show]!

This scintillating dialogue can go on for up to an hour as its participants bathe in the balmy waters of childhood. Channel 4 have made essentially a whole industry out of its ‘100 Greatest such-and-such’ programmes, that appeal to our collective history and the fact there is fuck all else to watch on a Sunday night.

Let’s be clear: something doesn’t have to be very good to be remembered fondly. It just has to tug the right strings, for whatever reason. I used to love Power Rangers. If I watched it with fresh eyes I’m sure I’d see it for what it really is: a pile of cynical, consumerist wank designed to prey on the aggression of small boys and translate it into huge sums of cash. But I can still remember all their names.

The collection of texts grows ever broader. I give it ten years before a major television channel plays ‘100 Greatest Video Games’ to a prime time audience. By then there will be few twenty-something males who haven’t been directly influenced by computer games. I can already spark off a twenty-minute pub natter about The Legend of Zelda.

So what will people don the rose tinted spectacles for in future? Will people in 2050 talk fondly of mobile phones (obsolete now video links are beamed directly into one’s eyes) or cars (replaced by mobile sofas piloted by robotic baboons)?

More importantly, will people still be talking about Harry Potter? An interesting thing about the conversation transcribed above is that it seems to be generation specific. No one fifteen years my junior will remember Thundercats the way I do. If I try and show it to them, they’ll think it’s shit. It’s OK. It was shit. I’ve listened to my dad talk starry-eyed about Trump Town but I can say with utmost certainty that no one born today or after will ever give a shit about Windy Miller. It’s OK. He was rubbish as well.

Will Harry Potter stand the test of time? Will people two generations away talk with delight about the series to strangers on trains, prospective lovers, old friends? I certainly hope so, not because my invested interest in the books is so strong, but because it will give me a way to connect with those generations, because I doubt they’ll give two World Bank Hyper cents about The Legend of Zelda. The best thing about art ( do I mean ‘art?’ I don’t know) is that not only does it reach people, it gives them a way to reach other people. THAT is what nostalgia should be- a pathway to a remembrance that we can all share.

Man, these posts are getting pretty sentimental. Right, starting next week, I’m moving into a squat and doing a shitload of 2cb every evening, then being targeted and cynical about everything, including you fucking squares reading this.