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Beyond foreignisation and domestication: Harry Potter in Hungarian translation.

I

The translation of children's literature in Hungary has had a distinguished tradition with reputed writers and translators trying their hands at creative translations--or rather rewrites--of children's classics. There are at least three British children's books that have become cult books in Hungary: Winnie-the-Pooh, Alice in Wonderland and The Jungle Book, all addressing a 'kiddult' readership. The great comic Modernist, Frigyes Karinthy provided a wittily reimagined, Magyarised (Hungarianised) version of Winnie-the-Pooh. The Jungle Book was even turned into a successful musical (not only for children and young adults) with a script abundant in wordplay by the versatile popular culture figure Peter Geszti.

This paper will look at the Harry Potter series in Hungarian translation, (1) with some reference to translation in a broader sense, including parody. The series has been published by a rather unknown publishing house called Animus Kiado, which, emboldened by the success of the Potter books, went on to publish a few more translations of children's bestsellers by Louis Sachar. (2) The series has also been a breakthrough for the translator, who is now an exception to the general tendency of the invisibility of the translator. (3) All the five translations of J.K. Rowling's series were prepared by Boldizsar Tamas Toth, who previously specialised in film translation, predominantly American blockbusters. He is the Hungarian translator of Hannibal, for instance, and a wide range of Disney productions for children. His experience in translating films has left a trace on his Harry Potter idiom. Small wonder that Toth is also the translator of the films based on the first three tomes. The article will engage in an in-depth analysis of the culturally marked elements in the translations of the five novels. However, it will not devote separate attention to the language of the films based on the books, since the style and the translation strategies characterising the films are very close to those on the page. This present article intends to demonstrate that the translator neither unquestionably domesticates, nor foreignises the texts. The analysis will include comparisons of names of persons, places, magicians' objects, school subjects, and so on, in the 'original' and the Hungarian translation. (4) On the understanding that creative and academic work are not so clearly distinguishable under the aegis of the postmodern, the paper will also point out in what respects Toth's translation strategies could be more daring or subversive. This is not at all to express any personal preferences but to shed more light on the theoretical concepts to be discussed. (5)

Before discussing individual cases of 'rendition' a theoretical context needs to be outlined for the study of translations with respect to appropriation as well as the circulation and relocation of cultural knowledge. (6) "Regarding the manner of the translation, the conflict seems to be between making the outcome of the translation process a visibly borrowed text, or rather a familiar sounding one which could have been originally conceived in the receiving language." (7) Friedrich Schleiermacher states, "Either the translator leaves the writer alone as much as possible and moves the reader toward the writer, or he leaves the reader alone as much as possible and moves the writer toward the reader." (8) Under Schleiermacher's influence, Lawrence Venuti divides translation strategies into foreignising and domesticating ones. (9) A domesticating translation adjusts the text to the taste of the receiving community. In this approach, local expectations are taken into account to a greater extent. Foreignising practices are supposed to retain the otherness experienced in the original. Wilhelm von Humboldt argues that the reader of a translation should be facilitated to feel the foreign but not foreignness itself. (10) In my view foreignisation and domestication are the two ends of a continuum. It is rarely the case that one can consider a translation either exclusively foreignising or domesticating. (11) As Venuti himself later attests, "the very function of translating is assimilation, the inscription of a foreign text with domestic intelligibilities and interests." (12) Paloposki and Oittinen even go so far as to say that "Maybe foreignizing is an illusion which does not really exist. Perhaps we should only speak of different levels and dimensions of domestication." (13)

Lawrence Venuti suggests foreignisation as the politically correct tendency of our day. However, one needs to be aware that foreignness is reconceived, and thus, constructed rather than retained. A translation as a metatext will speak about how an individual culture (and translator) perceives and constructs within its own boundaries the foreignness of another culture, hence, it is determined to reveal a great deal about contemporaneous discourses in a receiving community.

II

Moving on to the actual examples: names that are overtly telling names in the series (some of the teachers,' officials,' the journalist's name, and so on) and terms containing some kind of wordplay are usually very innovatively transplanted into Hungarian. For instance, the Hungarian counterpart of Professor Snape is called Piton (the Hungarian for 'python'). The herbology tutor, Professor Sprout reincarnates as Bimba professzor (cf. adjective bamba, meaning 'oafish' and 'absent-minded'). The humour here addresses a personal characteristic, while in the English name it is linked with the character's profession (comprising a reference to Brussels sprouts). Mogus professzor is the Hungarian counterpart for Professor Quirrel. Mogus is a free association with mokus (by way of changing a single consonant), which is the Hungarian for 'squirrel'--a word that the name Quirrel resembles. It is also a distorted version of the Hungarian word magus [magician, magus], suggesting that the professor does not always live up to the expectations as a magician. The name of the uninhibited journalist, Rita Skeeter, is put across as Rita Vitrol. The Hungarian noun vitriol [sharp, cutting wit], of which the surname is a distortion, is most often used when describing the style of a daring and provocative journalist, much like its English counterpart, although it may be slightly milder in tone than that. Bartemius Crouch's (or rather: Crouches') surname is turned into Kupor, which is not an existing word as such, yet it comes across as a stem related to the verbs both kuporog [crouch, squat] and kuporgat [put away in a very sparing manner]. Thus, another semantic field, that of thrift and meanness, is also at play in Toth's version. When the textbooks are listed, Bircsok, Bathilda is used for Bagshot, Bathilda. Apart from being a similarly alliterating name, Bircsok recalls the word bibircsok, a noun for 'wart (particularly on the nose),' associated with wicked witches in Hungarian fairytales. On the same list of required readings Dabrak stands for Goshawk, invoking the well-known spell abrakadabra [abracadabra], which is difficult to link to any particular tale, children's fiction or television programme, yet it is a phrase strongly rooted in Hungarian cultural memory--probably the first magic spell Hungarian children come across. This is an instance of foregrounding the domestic cultural knowledge in the appropriation. (The children will recognize it as something familiar, probably unaware that the term exists in other languages too.) In like vein, a witty solution for Flourish and Blotts is offered in the form of Czikornyai es Pacza, imitating the spelling of traditional and prestigious Hungarian family names (the obsolete letter combination cz instead of the common and codified c). This naming is jocose enough because cikornya means 'bombast' or 'flourish,' and paca stands for 'an undesirable blot of ink on the paper.' Pocket sneakoscope is innovatively turned into zsebgyanuszkop [pocket + suspicion + 'scope']. The ending szkop is associated with (semi-) scientific language in Hungarian, thus a connotation similar to that of the original is carried by the Hungarian word.

Another characteristic treatment of foreignness is when the alien expression is foreignised in the translation not via retaining the foreign phrases in Rowling's text but by way of finding terms that are foreign-sounding enough for the Hungarian ear. Expressions from the Latin (such as Dumbledore's first name, Albus) or those imitating Latin terms qualify for such purposes very well, since the educated Hungarian reader is used to coming across Latin expressions in his/her reading. (Ildiko Boldizsar emphasises in her review how easily the translator handles Latin. (14) Again, it is the foreign-as-familiar that one encounters as opposed to the purely foreign or purely domestic. Some of the spells serve as elucidating examples here; for instance, the summoning charm "Accio!" becomes "Invito!" The translator is respectful towards the 'original' as he identifies an intention in it and tries to follow the same principle (here: invoking a foreign/highbrow atmosphere) in his translation. He cleverly keeps in mind that it is not necessarily the same term that conjures up notions of otherness for readers in the receiving language as in the 'source' language. It is another gesture of foreignising the familiar when Toth translates Cornelius Fudge's surname as Caramel, giving a Latinate spelling of karamell, the Hungarian for 'fudge.' This strategy is further clarified by the translation of the Mirror of Erised, which is transformed into the more Latin-sounding and pronounceable Edevis tukre [the mirror of Edevis]. The inscription on the frame of the mirror is "Edevis amen ahze erkyt docr amen" (15); while the original foreign text reads "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi." (16) Thus, the title of Chapter Twelve of the first volume needed to be changed accordingly. This became "Edevis tukre" [The Mirror of Edevis]. (This solution has a rhetorical 'loss' when compared to the original. As opposed to the word Erised, the word Edevis does not read as the Hungarian for 'desire' when it is read backwards, or, for that matter, it does not read as a meaningful word at all.)

A peculiar and related case in point is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Hungarian version for this is Roxfort, which, sounding so similar to Oxford, has a whiff of humorous criticism about it, especially for the adult readers. Consistently, Hogsmeade, the name of the village adjacent to Hogwarts, is translated as Roxmorts. This is to do with listing or 'storing' Oxford as a custodian of quintessential Britishness in a(n imaginary) Hungarian cultural lexicon. The result is a 'more (typically) British' name than Hogwarts, the original. This is not a unique occurrence of emulation in the translations; there are a few more scattered examples of the phenomenon, if not so outstanding. Professor McGonagall's name becomes McGalagony; this, besides being easier to utter and more euphonious, (17) also sounds potentially even more 'English' to the Hungarian ear than the original name. As Elizabeth D. Schafer notes, "Her Scottish last name hints that she is both bold and bitter." (18) An average Hungarian reader, however, would not notice that McGonagall is a Scottish-sounding rather than an English-sounding surname; it would most probably fall into the category of 'English' name. At the same time, the name McGalagony loosely conjures up the sound of the word galagonya, the Hungarian for 'hawthorn,' which appears in a most famous poem for children by the acclaimed Modernist poet Sandor Weores (a text also turned into a song). As a result, in this name familiarity and foreignness are both at play. The professor's first name, Minerva, is an allusion to the wise goddess, Athena, and,--as part of the European cultural heritage--it works for Hungarian readers. The 'rendition' for Gryffindor is Griffendel; the name rhymes with Chip and Dale, for instance (from a children's animated series), and with other words ending in -ale, familiar to young Hungarian spectators of American cartoons. This is again closer to the stereotypical Hungarian notion of an 'English' name than Gryffindor is. (As noted before, Toth is also a translator of Disney movies.)

There are cases where the whole idiom of a character sounds foreign or ethnically marked to the British reader. The head of the visiting French school, Madame Maxime and her student, Fleur speak a Frenchified English in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Their 'Hungarian' is similarly French-sounding. Oddly enough, the other visiting professor, the Eastern European Karkaroff speaks fluent English (and Hungarian). Small wonder that nothing comes across in the Hungarian translations from Hagrid's Scottish accent or Seamus Finnigan's Irish brogue, either.

In some cases the onomatopoeic sound of the terms provided guidance for the translator. Hufflepuff is 'rendered' as Hugrabug (a playful take on the slightly onomatopoeic verb for 'jump': ugrabugral). Slytherin is inventively translated as Mardekar [Bites-what-a-pity]; apart from the reference to snakes, the dark-sounding word (with a few low vowels in it) has strong associative power. Snitch is Hungarianised with the slightly onomatopoeic cikesz (a word made up by the translator, inspired by the verb cikazik, meaning 'flash' or 'zigzag').

A word puzzling and innovative in the original, such as undursleyish is translated as legdursleyszerutlenebb [most undursleyish]. The Hungarian language allows for even more freedom in bending the word endings: playing with suffixes, conjugation and declination. The Sorting Hat becomes Teszlek suveg, which would translate back into English as "I-place-you'-stovepipe-hat.' As an agglutinating language, Hungarian is capable of expressing a phrase such as 'I place you' in one single word. Diagon Alley is turned into Abszol ut, a pun on the word abszolut, the Hungarian 'equivalent' of absolute (just like the English term can be read as the deviation of the word 'diagonally'). Ut is the Hungarian for road, thus the translation is somewhat of a structural calque of the original phrase, which contains the word alley. In such cases the translator engages in a quasi-etymological game, trying to make up words from existing lexical items, replenishing them with new potential connotations. This is akin to how the author herself was working. As Jack Zipes admits, "Rowling likes to play with names using foreign associations and phonetics to induce associations. Volde evokes some German or Scandinavian names." (19) It can also be read as a name referring to death (cf. the French mort, meaning 'death'). French translations in other languages abound in similar "ludic" solutions. (20) The following anecdotal example recounted by Rowling herself illustrates the case:
 In the Italian translation, professor Dumbledore has been
 translated into Professore Silencio. The translator has taken the
 "dumb" from the name and based the translation on that. In fact
 'dumbledore' is the old English word for bumblebee. I chose it
 because my image is of this benign wizard, always on the move,
 humming to himself, and I loved the sound of the word too. For me
 'Silencio' is a complete contradiction. (21)


There are, however, a number of cases with hardly any visible change. Ravenclaw is analogically translated as alliterating Hollohat [Ravenback]. Madam Pomfrey's and Ollivander's name stay the same, so does that of Mrs Norris, the cat. The telling name of the librarian, Madam Pince, is turned into Madam Cvikker [Madam Pince-nez]. Kover Dama [Fat Dame] is introduced instead of Fat Lady. This is clever because it recalls the name of one of the front images of the (French) playing cards, which is called dama [dame] in Hungarian. Disznoorr [Pig's Nose] is used for Snout, rather accurately. Norbert the Norwegian ridgeback becomes Norbert, a tarajos norveg [Norbert, the combed Norwegian]. The Daily Prophet is replaced by Reggeli Profeta [Morning Prophet], and Chocolate Frogs by csokibeka [chock frogs]. Prefect is literally translated as Prefektus, even the nickname prefi is used (the ending i is indicative of a nickname). Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans are distributed as Bagoly Berti-fele Mindenizu Drazse (the Hungarian for 'owl' is used for Bott). (22) He Who Must Not Be Named is introduced as O, Akit Nem Nevezunk Neven [He Whom We Don't Call By The Name]. The term for Invisibility Cloak--lathatatlanna tevo/tevo koponyeg [a cloak making you invisible]--is less compact than the English term, although it expresses the notion appropriately, and it alludes to the name of a similar 'magic gadget' in Hungarian folk tales.

There are phrases that are merely transliterated in a more crudely foreignising fashion. The special terms describing different aspects of the wizard world (such as currency) are put across via the adoption of these terms: mugli is introduced for Muggle, kviddics for Quidditch, knut for Knut. (23) The term dementor is left as it is, foreign-sounding, and in a sense, still familiar-sounding due to the Latinate ending well-known from loanwords such as mentor. It is also notable that most of the central child characters have relatively realistic names, which helps children believe that Harry and his friends are like normal school children . In her review the poet and critic Eszter Babarczy praises this balancing attitude of the translator:
 The book is good, witty, and well crafted; it carries away the
 reader, and this applies to the Hungarian edition too, which has
 found the feasible compromise between over-Hungarianising and a
 purposeless, direct borrowing of inventions that are already part
 of an international cult (Muggle: the goofy everyday world;
 Quidditsch [sic!]: the great international wizard sport). Let's
 just imagine that our child starts chatting with another young
 holidaymaker on the beach without knowing what Quidditsch [sic!] is
 or who Voldemart [sic!] is, because instead of Quidditsch [sic!]
 and Voldemart [sic!] something "very Hungarian" is translated into
 the book. (24)


What happens to culture-specific notions is of crucial importance from the perspective of translation studies. Some of these are replaced by Hungarian notions of similar connotative value in the text. Some of these are, rather unsurprisingly, food names. According to Karen Manners Smith, "Besides game and sport, food might be the most important--almost obsessive--part of boarding school life and stories." (25) As she remarks, food at Hogwarts "tastes exquisite, though it is, for the most part, recognizably British fare. English food is not a notable world cuisine, but it is cosy and familiar to Rowling's readers ..." (26) Sherbet lemon (a concept unknown in Hungary) is domesticated as citromos italpor [lemon juice powder], which can indeed be purchased in Hungarian supermarkets, even though it has not been very common in the last few years. Baked beans as such do not exist in Hungary either. They are replaced by a rather rustic dish called babfozelek [bean sauce], which is not exactly students' first pick from school canteen menus. Jacket potatoes, a culinary term for a dish which is clearly not part of Hungarian cuisine is translated as toltott krumpli [stuffed potatoes], sounding much more exotic than its less distinguished British counterpart.

A reference to an interview with Toth, the translator, will highlight the practical difficulty in translating instances of otherness. When the interviewer, Timea Hungler, asks him about rendering culture specific terms, he asserts the importance of measuring up whether the respective foreign notion is familiar enough in Hungary. If it is, it can be left in its original version. He comes up with an example from his experience of translating film. When translating Almost Famous, he 'rendered' groupie as capa (the Hungarian for 'shark' as well as a slang term synonymous with the seventies' slang word groupie). Some friends of his, who have seen the film in Toth's translation, insisted that the term groupie should have been retained, because 'everybody knows it.' This illustrates that the translator does not necessarily judge 'accurately,' that is, he is not necessarily able to please all strata of the audience. Toth's general comment relates well to his take on the Harry Potter series:
 If a reference is very internal, such as an in-joke referring to a
 certain country or individual, I don't use the name of this person
 but look for a concise term to circumscribe the situation. In fact,
 I explain the name, I provide the text with a footnote. (27)


The above passage underlines the translator's activity as a critic, a commentator on the text s/he translates.

III

The next section will further focus on cultural translation within the Potter series (how the novels translate, i.e. mediate, summarise, footnote, distil Western, mainly European culture) and of the Potter series (how this mediation may work in foreign-language translations), also drawing on the notion of reading as translation. Karl Vossler views translation as "the most intensive form of reading, namely of a reading which becomes itself creative and productive again, via understanding, explanation, and criticism ..." (28) As demonstrated above, there are numerous elements of Rowling's novels that allude to an allegedly shared European cultural heritage, and these terms or references, such as the Cinderella prototype, translate smoothly into Hungarian, even though some of these allusions may only be identifiable by young adults or grown-ups. (29) However, several issues specific to the UK are not problematised by the Hungarian translations, due to a lack of shared knowledge between the implied reader of Rowling's text and the implied reader of Toth's translation. Thus, certain references remain mute for the readers of the Hungarian (and probably most other) translations.

How intertexts come across in the translation may also be viewed as an issue of cultural relocation. Intertexts that may be easily recognizable for readers of 'the original' are not determined to be so obvious connections for readers of translations in different languages. For instance, the playful allusion to Shakespeare, latent in Hermione's name (so convincingly identified by Miranda Johnston-Haddad) may not ring the bell for some foreign readers, even if the name is not domesticated but left as it is in the 'original.' (30) The Winter's Tale may not be so frequently read and staged outside of English-speaking cultures. References to Titus Andronicus and Richard III may be bypassed for the same reason: they do not necessarily rank among the most popular Shakespearean plays outside the UK. (31) Nevertheless, I tend to think that the reader's response in this respect is also informed by the stratification of the audience along with age and education, not only by ethnic origin or national identity. Zipes also makes mention of several erudite intertexts (without using the term intertext itself), such as David, Tom Thumb, Jack the Giant Killer, Aladdin, and Horatio Alger. (32) Andrew Blake emphasises that the Potter books also revisit the Arthurian legends. (33) Such allusions are not easy to mediate, and much depends on the readers' knowledge and the translator-as-reader's reading experience and general erudition. Again, it should be emphasised that the Harry Potter books and the translations are meant for a very diverse, indeed kiddult, readership in terms of age and education.

The popular culture intertextual web, which is mapped out rather wryly by Jack Zipes, may be more in tune with children's cultural memory and reading taste than, for instance, the figure of Horatio Alger is. This is a more 'international' referential network of globalised culture in which the Potter books (and the film versions) can be read:
 Harry must play the role of a modern-day TV sleuth in each novel.
 ... He is the ultimate detective, and Ron, as in all buddy/cop
 films, is always at his side. ... [H]e is a perfect model for
 boys because he excels in almost everything he undertakes. But this
 is also his difficulty as a literary character: he is too flawless
 and almost a caricature of various protagonists from pop culture.
 Like young heroes today, Harry appeals to young readers (and
 adults) because Rowling has endowed him with supernatural powers of
 the sort we can see in The Power Rangers, X-Men, Star Wars, Buffy
 the Vampire Slayer, and numerous other TV shows and films. ...
 The scheme of things is very similar to the Disney Corporation's
 The Lion King, which celebrates male dominance and blood rule. (34)


Elizabeth D. Schafer also enlists the James Bond films and Sabrina the Teenage Witch as possible parallels, and, like Zipes, she also mentions Star Wars. (35) Regarding the stratification of the Potter readership according to language and national identity, Schafer does not consider the cultural relocation to be too problematic. She trusts that a universal wizard kid, such as Harry, is supposed to find his way to everybody's heart:
 Although the Muggle and wizard cultures in which Harry lives are
 quite different from other cultures, readers nonetheless recognize
 universal concepts. The exotic details to readers outside Britain
 enhance the series' fantastical nature. While British readers
 acknowledge aspects of their own culture and even feel nostalgic or
 sentimental about boarding schools, foreigners perceive the story
 as a glimpse through a magical window into another world. They may
 identify with the humanity of the characters and the universality
 of the themes, but the specifics of the story are reminiscent of
 watching a documentary with explanatory subtitles. (36)


In this semi-scholarly text we may witness the emergence of a literary cult. As she further argues,
 Harry has enchanted people worldwide, and his magic connects people
 from different cultures with a common bond. Imagination, humor, and
 empathy are not confined by geographical borders, skin color, or
 language. Even though Harry is a British schoolboy, his fears and
 joys are familiar to most humans regardless of where they live.
 People understand the universal feelings of shyness and insecurity
 as well as the concepts of respect and justice. The name Harry
 Potter is recognizable to native speakers of languages ranging from
 Arabic to Chinese. (37)


As we have seen from the examples discussed, it is valid that the translations communicate and recontextualise cultural knowledge for children (and adults). However, regarding Harry Potter as a fountain of knowledge of British culture would be a deception. This is not to say that the series does not contain a great deal about British culture and British perceptions of otherness (especially when it comes to the Triwizard Tournament, dragons in Romania, Bertha Jorkins disappearing in Albania, Professor Quirrell also travelling there, the East European headmaster, Karkaroff, presented as a former supporter of Voldemort, and so on). Nevertheless, the reading or critical activity (including the translator's task) will not be a sheer unpacking of meaning, since the cultural knowledge is not ossified in the book but open to continuous (ideological) critique. What Elizabeth D. Schafer perceives as the strength of the series (universal values) is exactly what Jack Zipes dismisses about what he calls "cute and ordinary" books. (38) Zipes styles Harry a "postmodern whiz kid" as well as a Christian knight. (39) Zipes, however, is far from pleased by this amalgamation:
 He is white, Anglo-Saxon, bright, athletic, and honest. ... [H]e is
 the classic Boy Scout, a little mischievous like Tom Sawyer or one
 of the Hardy boys. He does not curse; he speaks standard English
 grammatically, as do all his friends; he is respectful to his
 elders; and he has perfect manners. (40)


These are aspects a translation negotiates instead of channeling exotic information about Britishness into foreign schoolchildren's heads. In Giselle Lisa Anatol's view, the Potter books do not break away decisively from British imperialism: "Rowling seems to project a more traditional, nostalgic view of imperial Center and less-civilized Periphery in her Harry Potter series": (41)
 Magical Britain, and Hogwarts in particular, thus become the
 magical metropole, despite their initial resemblance to a foreign
 landscape of otherness. Everywhere else subsequently falls into the
 category of "periphery." (42)


A radical translator may as well go against the assertion of the Ruritania myth, a mystification of Eastern Europe and the Balkans (rather as a unified mass, yet Romania, Bulgaria and Albania are mentioned in particular), which is executed mainly by affirming the Gothic stereotypes about Transylvania and Albania. (43) An experimental translator or adaptor may talk back to this tradition, and have some of the Transylvanian dragons and Voldemort-related characters that are situated in the Balkans re-placed somewhere in 'the Occident.' This would be a hyperbole, a corrective translation or adaptation, but Toth clearly does not intend to practice such politicised impertinence. (44) Another radical translation or adaptation strategy would be to substitute these elements for references

to cultures that Hungarian culture (which, as such, is of course, ungraspable) may patronize, may feel superior to; cultures that may be Hungary's 'others.'

Certain references 'closer to home' will read very different to the Hungarian readers than to the English-speaking ones (and readers of other translations). A case in point is the 'beast' named Hungarian Horntail in Rowling's fourth book, and renamed as Magyar Mennydorgos [Hungarian Thunderbolt/Thundery Hungarian] by Toth. While Hungarian Horntail carries the potential of something exotic and dangerous to the British readers, the much more prestigious-sounding Magyar Mennydorgos certainly comes across as a domestic element of the Potter world (such a name can crop up in Hungarian tales or children's books), and it may even appeal to national pride; after all the Hungarian Horntail is the most crafty, clever beast in the tournament, and thus, the most difficult one to defeat.

As opposed to the value system of culturally conservative Middle England, persuasively represented in the novels by the Dursleys, for example, Hogwarts is characterized by ethnic diversity. (45) Again, some of the cultural negotiation that is apparent for readers of the 'original' (not only for British readers, and probably not for every individual British reader) may be mute for the foreign language reader and translator. For instance, the presence of a certain Parvati Patil at Hogwarts exemplifies political correctness on the part of the author. A character with a Pakistani-sounding name almost ought to be included in a children's book that has at least some reference to the British educational system of the day, given the significant presence of Asian minority groups in the ethnic composition of the country. (46) (The surname of the Patil sisters sounds like a twisted version of the common Pakistani name, Patel, which would ring the bell for most British readers. (47) Schafer contends that characters such as (the presumably Chinese) Cho Chang, the Patil twins, Dean Thomas and Angelina Johnson, both supposedly black, and the Irish-sounding Seamus Finnigan "provide ethnic diversity at Hogwarts." (48) The dreadlocked Lee Jordan, who can be identified as African-Caribbean, could be added to the list. (49) For the sake of topicality, an overtly domesticating translation would perhaps translate one of these characters into a Romany student in Hungary (and would probably address other ethnic minorities too). However, as we have seen, Toth's translations avoid too much domestication and politicisation. Thus, it comes as no surprise that Parvati Patil et al. have the same names in the Hungarian edition; however, it is doubtful that the name offers similar connotations to most Hungarian readers. (50)

Even though I find the previous example a sign of engagement with political correctness on Rowling's behalf, there have been readings of its opposite too. For Julia Park Rodrigues, who reviews the Potter books for a women writers' magazine, the Weasleys invoke the stereotypical poor Irish Catholic family. Commenting on the character of Ron and his family, the reviewer notes,
 [h]e's red-haired and freckled, from a large family of wizards, and
 he's one of Harry's best friends. But he's also dirt-poor, stuck
 with hand-me-downs and too many siblings. The Weasley's home is
 called 'The Burrow,' suggesting rabbits and their prolific
 breeding. In other words, the Weasleys are the perfect caricature
 of the poor Irish-Catholic family, as seen from Rowling's
 middle-class-Protestant-British view. Although most other Rowling
 characters have Dickensian names, comic-descriptive or
 onomatopoeic, the Weasleys' name seems like a slam; its
 associations are hardly charming. (51)


In another article Julia Park also mentions Mrs Weasley's first name, Molly as a typical Irish name and corned beef, disliked by Ron, as typical Irish food. (52) Is Harry then an 'Everychild,' or a 'magical' version of a British child? (53) As the ideological judgements of different readers attest, the texts do not prove to be ideologically as innocent as Shafer's cultic paradigm seems to suggest.

Referring back to Schafer's comment, it is also rather unwise, perhaps even ignorant to disregard the fact that other cultures also have boarding school education, even if it is not Eton, or Ampleforth (the latter Benedictine school in North Yorkshire has been regarded as a source of inspiration for Rowling's invention, Hogwarts). (54) Some Hungarian students can relate to their own boarding school memories or experiences when reading the books. However, the division of the school population into 'houses' or smaller communities will be unusual. Foreign readers may also be very familiar with the British public school system from their studies, and other reading or viewing experiences, and may be able to read the book as a parody of this system.

IV

There are numerous cases in cultural history when a translation is 'retranslated' in the form of a parody or pastiche. As Peter Hunt argues, "The low literary status of children's books, and their intimate integration into popular culture means that stories are commonly reworked to suit the ideologies of an age, or its image of childhood ..." (55) One should keep in mind, however, that neither popular culture nor children's literature is a clearly defined term, and children's literature as such or in its individual texts, despite having been often marginalised and mentioned under the rubric of low culture, does not necessarily belong there. Heri Kokler es a Buz Serlege [Heri the Juggler and the Stinking Goblet] is a somewhat sarcastic parody for adults of Rowling's book--obviously in its Hungarian translation. (56) The book indeed intends to integrate the Harry Potter phenomenon into Hungarian popular culture. Tuz, the Hungarian word for fire, rhymes with buz, meaning 'stink.' Thus, the title is a pun on the Hungarian title of the book, which comprises the word tuz. (Moreover, the original title for this parody was meant to be 'Heri the Juggler and the Goblet of the Virgin'--the Hungarian for virgin, szuz also rhymes with tuz.) This book is the first of a series of spoofs (one loosely based on each Potter novel), published under the jocular pseudonym K. B. Rottring. The name of the well-known propelling-pencil brand rhymes with Rowling's name. The abbreviation kb. stands for 'about' or 'approximately' in Hungarian, so the pseudonym questions authorship in a jocose, rather postmodern manner: the book was written approximately by Rottring. The abbreviation also recalls the marker HB, which signifies a certain tone of the colour for pencils. The rest of the titles are similarly ridiculous and nonsensical: Heri Kokler es az epekove [Heri the Juggler and his Bilestone], Heri Kokler es a mormon kannaja [Heri the Juggler and the Churn of the Mormon], and Heri Kokler es az Alkatrazi fogoly [Heri the Juggler and the Prisoner of Alcatraz]. The venture is further 'validated' by a fictitious publishing house and its unrealistic address: Kambodzsa, Pol-Pot Strassze 13: Elso Magyar Konyvkiado Kft. [The First Hungarian Publishing Ltd.].

Having parodies of a text usually confirms its readability even if it is a critical take on the text. In Barthesian terminology, this proves the writerly character of a text. (57) In the context of the Potter books the case is illustrated by the existence of a number of parodies or rewrites, such as the Barry Trotter texts, a Chinese text entitled Harry Potter and Leopard-Walk-Up-to-Dragon, the Russian novel about Tanya Grotter, a Hungarian online comic (also playing on The Lord of the Rings) entitled Henry Porter es a Gyurott szovetsege [Henry Porter and the Alliance of the Creased], as well as writing by the American Nancy Stouffer that is said to be plagiarising Rowling's work. (58) The Heri Kokler series turns Harry Potter inside out, trivialising, domesticating and topicalising it. First of all, Harry's new counterpart is Heri (not an existing Hungarian name, just the transliteration of the English name, thus, it is marked by domestication and foreignisation at the same time). In Kokler world Rokfort (transliteration of the Hungarian pronunciation of Roquefort) is the parodic counterpart of Toth's invention, Roxfort; kavics [pebble] stands for kviddics; and kugli [bowling] for mugli (on the basis of a similarity in sounding). The Dumbledore figure is called Dupladurr professzor [Professor Double-boom], and Toth's McGalagony inspired Meggenya professzor; genya being a slang term with a wide-ranging negative meaning ['mean, inflexible,' etc.]. The Hagrid character is called Hibrid [Hybrid]. The Weasley family is renamed as Ribizly here. Ribizli is the Hungarian for '(red/black) currants,' and the final y mocks traditional spelling apparent in some family names. The twins (not really twins, because there are nine of them here) are called Winworld twins, while Ginny fares much worse: she reincarnates as a character called Genny [Pus]. The Dundy family replaces the Dudleys (dundi means 'plump/chubby,' the spelling with a y at the end again mocks traditional family names). Voldemort becomes Voltmarvolt [Already-Have-Been]. It is apparent that paronomasia is the main principle constituting the mock Potter language. Hermelin [ermine/stoat] is a pop culture counterpart of Hermione. In order to add a post-Soviet touch to Heri Kokler's world, Rottring's books feature Szputnyik [Sputnik] 2000s instead of the Nimbus Two Thousand brand. Heri Kokler es a Buz Serlege is a spin-off on all the Harry Potter novels rather than drawing on only the first of Rowling's series in Toth's translation. The Triwizard Tournament, which appears in Rowling's fourth book only, is reimagined here as Pupak Kupa [Kiddies' Cup/Pup Cup], (59) featuring Hektor Rum (a black African from Vulgaria) as a counterpart to Viktor Krum, and Flug Blecourt instead of Fleur Delacour.

V

Andre Lefevere introduced the term refraction for texts "processed for a certain audience (children, for example), or adapted to a certain poetics or a certain ideology." (60) In order to exemplify the term, he offers an amusing example from the history of translating and adapting for children:
 Translators of Gulliver's Travels tend to translate in a different
 way for an audience of children, than for an audience of adults.
 There are, for instance, very few translations made for children
 that allow Gulliver to extinguish the fire raging in the Lilliput
 imperial palace the way he does in the original: by urinating on
 it. (61)


The leading scholar in the field of the study of translating for children, Riitta Oittinen, argues that children's stories often address issues that are taboos for the children of the day (some of them are quite universal taboos, such as sex, death, violence, excretion, bad manners, adult imperfections, and so on), and protectionism on the part of adults frequently censors these in translation. Many of these themes are connected to what Bakhtin describes as the carnivalesque. (62) She mentions examples like deleting the topic of death from Andersen's The Little Match Girl by changing the ending (in an American translation); and replacing Grimm's phrase "red as blood" by "red as an apple" in a version of Snow White. (63) Toth's translations, however, do not censor deaths in Rowling's series; and carnivalistic elements, such as troll bogeys (in Hungarian it is rather straightforwardly called trolltakony [troll snot]) are generally not omitted or substituted for. The Rottring parodies, like the Barry Trotter stories, take this further and deeply indulge in the carnivalesque, as we have seen in the name Genny, for instance.

If at all, Toth's translations are refractions from the perspective of the cultural relocation of British children's magic world. As Nancy K. Jentsch asserts, "the translator of the Harry Potter series has a unique challenge in the genre [translation], that is, to portray a setting and its people that are a world apart from ours, and at the same time located due north of London." (64) Many of Rowling's European references do come across in the Hungarian translations, which also map out a 'wizard Europe,' like the Potter books do, yet the polarisation and occasional stereotyping may be more apparent when you read the Hungarian translations, due to the difference in audiences, including the translator-as-reader. Toth respects the otherness of the 'original,' and, in the main, does not relocate the wizard world to Hungary. On the contrary, his translations intend to reconceive the foreignness the translator may have encountered in his reading of the 'originals' (most of this would ring familiar to the British audience). This activity is hampered when it comes to the Potter books mapping out a 'wizard Britain (or UK?),' for instance, by regional dialects, accents and numerous other markers of ethnic belonging, including non-English ethnicity (such as the Patil sisters). As Blake asserts, "[H]owever you localise the translation, Harry is very English, and goes to a very English-style school." (65) The above mentioned referential system would be largely unnoticeable to the Hungarian reader (and indeed, impossible to mediate, unless via domesticating localisation), and Toth's translations compensate for that by mapping out an alternative 'wizard Britain,' which, in certain aspects, comes across as more British or, at times, (for Hungarians) more exotic or mysterious than Rowling's. Roxfort, for example, gives the impression of Oxford's counterpart in the British 'wizard establishment.' Stuffed potatoes do come across as something unfamiliar and exotic, in contrast with jacket potatoes. Due to the semantic fluidity of the process of translation as such, and the traits of these particular translations, Harry Potter in Hungarian, and the fictitious world around him carry British, Hungarian and European (or rather Western) connotations almost coterminously. (66) Toth's translations appeal both to children and adults. Being kiddult texts, they address the cultural memories of both children and adult groups, including potential references and intertexts for both. The translations play with what is familiar and what is foreign, disguising these in one another, and thus opening up avenues for cultural critique. Their immediate readability and translatability are proved by the existence of spoofs in the form of the Heri Kokler series. This case study has hoped to facilitate moving beyond the clever but somewhat straitjacket-like binary opposition of foreignisation and domestication, highlighting that it is rather the foreign-as-familiar and the familiar-as-foreign that feature in these reworkings. (67)

(1.) The following editions were consulted: J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (London: Bloomsbury, 1997); J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter es a bblcsek kb've, trans.Tamas Boldizsar Toth (Budapest: Animus, 1999); J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (London: Bloomsbury, 1998); J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter es a titkok kamraja, trans.Tamas Boldizsar Toth (Budapest: Animus, 2000); J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (London: Bloomsbury, 1999); J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter es az azkabanifogoly, trans.Tamas Boldizsar Toth (Budapest: Animus, 2000); J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (London: Bloomsbury, 2000); J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter es a tuz serlege, trans.Tamas Boldizsar Toth (Budapest: Animus, 2000); J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (London: Bloomsbury, 2003); J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter es a fonix rendje, trans.Tamas Boldizsar Toth (Budapest: Animus, 2003).

(2.) Stanley, a szerencse fia, trans. Katalin Lacza (Budapest: Animus, 2000); Laura titkos tarsasaga, trans.Tamas Boldizsar Toth (Budapest: Animus, 2001); Bradley, az osztaly reme, trans.Tamas Boldizsar Toth (Budapest: Animus, 2002).

(3.) The attribute 'invisible' has become a contentious term in Translation Studies after Lawrence Venuti's work, The Translator's Invisibility: A History of Translation (London and New York: Routledge, 1995).

(4.) I will refer to the terms source text and original in inverted commas only, since the intertextual notion of translation problematises the feasibility of these concepts. The terms rendi tion and equivalent will be handled similarly, since full equivalence is an illusory concept. According to an interpretation of the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, every language shapes or forges 'reality' differently; cf. Contemporary Linguistics: An Introduction, eds. O'Grady et al. (New York: St Martin's Press, 1993), pp. 242-4 and p. 595. On a more practical note, my approximate translations of Hungarian terms and quotations will be indicated in square brackets.

(5.) A recent encouraging critical reading in this respect was Carol Chillington Rutter's Enter the Body (London and New York: Routledge, 2001), where the author dwells on how a--hypothetical--revisionist filming of Ophelia's funeral would address issues so far untouched by filmmakers (pp. 52-56.).

(6.) Chantal Zabus in her Tempests after Shakespeare (New York: Palgrave, 2002) talks of rewrites' reorienting the circulation of knowledge, cf. p. 2.; this also applies to translation 'proper.' Other semi-technical terms such as foreign material and cultural content are also in use. For the former cf. Riitta Oittinen, Translating for Children (New York and London: Garland Publishing, Inc., 2000), p. 90, and for the latter cf. Susan Stan quoted in Oittinen, ibid, p. 150. For a different aspect of knowledge in the Potter series see Lisa Hopkins, "Harry Potter and the Acquisition of Knowledge," in Reading Harry Potter, ed. Giselle Liza Anatol (Westport, Connecticut and London: Praeger), pp. 25-34.

(7.) Marta Minier, "Krapp's Last Tape: The Problematics of Investigating Translation as Acculturation," in New Voices in Irish Criticism 3, ed. Karen Vandevelde (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2002), p. 102.

(8.) Friedrich Schleiermacher, "From 'On the Different Methods of Translating,'" trans. Waltraud Bartscht, in Theories of Translation, eds. Rainer Schulte and John Biguenet (Chicago & London: University of Chicago Press, 1992), p. 42.

(9.) Venuti, pp. 17-27. Similar issues were also discussed by Goethe, and more recently, by Antoine Berman.

(10.) Wilhelm von Humboldt, "From 'Introduction to His Translation of Agamemnon,'" trans. Sharon Sloan, in Theories of Translation, eds. Rainer Schulte and John Biguenet (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1992), p. 58.

(11.) For thoroughgoing criticism of Venuti's polarisation of translation strategies cf. Oittinen, pp. 73-74., and Outi Paloposki and Riitta Oittinen, "The Domesticated Foreign," in Translation in Context, ed. Andrew Chesterman, Natividad Gallardo San Salvador and Yves Gambier (Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins, n.d.), pp. 373-390.

(12.) Lawrence Venuti, The Scandals of Translation: Towards an Ethics of Difference (London and New York: Routledge, 1998), p. 11.

(13.) Paloposki and Oittinen, p. 386.

(14.) Ildiko Boldizsar, "A gyerekirodalom elso akciokonyve. (J. K. Rowling negy Harry Potterkonyve)" [The First 'Action Book' in Children's Literature (J. K. Rowling's Four Harry Potter Books)], Holmi (2001/4) 546.

(15.) Rowling, Harry Potter es a bolcsek kove, p. 195.

(16.) Rowling, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, p. 225.

(17.) Cf. Boldizsar, p. 546.

(18.) Elizabeth D. Schafer, Exploring Harry Potter (London: Ebury Press, 2000), p. 58.

(19.) Jack Zipes, "The Phenomenon of Harry Potter, or Why All the Talk?" in Sticks and Stones: The Troublesome Success of Children's Literature from Slovenly Peter to Harry Potter (New York and London: Routledge, 2000), p. 181.

(20.) The term ludic is borrowed from Matei Calinescu's Rereading (Yale University Press, 1993).

(21.) Lindsey Fraser, "An Interview with J.K. Rowling" (Mammoth, 2000), p. 33.

(22.) "Rowling's pleasure in inventing food both delicious and disgusting is reminiscent of Roald Dahl's children's fiction" (Karen Manners Smith, "Harry Potter's Schooldays: J. K. Rowling and the British Boarding School Novel," in Reading Harry Potter, p. 82). This creative take on food is followed rather imaginatively by the translator.

(23.) Interestingly, the Italian and Dutch translations domesticate the word Muggle. The Italian babboni derives from the word babbioni [idiots], and the Dutch dreutzel is made up from dreutle [clumsy]. See Andrew Blake, The Irresistable Rise of Harry Potter (London and New York: Verso, 2002), p. 106. These terms thus go against the tradition of an international 'uniform' Potter language. However, the readers can probably relate to the terms very easily, and may link them to their own society. As Blake notes, these have become terms of abuse, just as much as their English counterpart has.

(24.) "[A] konyv jo, szellemes, technikas, sodorja az olvasot, es ez elmondhato a magyar kiadasrol is, amely eltalalta a helyes kozeputat a maris nemzetkozi kultusz targyat alkoto invenciok (Muggle: a tokfej normalis vilag, Quidditsch: a nagy nemzeti varazslo sport) tulzott magyaritasa es elvtelen atvetele kozott. Kepzeljuk csak el, hogy gyermekunk szoba elegyedik a csaladi nyaralas soran a szomszed strandoloval, de nem tudja, mi a Quidditsch vagy ki Voldemart, mert kviddics es Voldemart helyett valami nagyon magyarosat forditottak neki bele a konyvbe" (Eszter Babarczy, "Millenniumi bubaj: J.K. Rowling: Harry Potter es a bolcsek kove [Millenial Charm: J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone]," Mancs http://www.mancs.hu/legfrissebb.tdp-azon=0002kritika7.htm [visited 16 September 2003]; my translation).

(25.) Manners Smith, p. 81.

(26.) Manners Smith, p. 82.

(27.) "Ha tulzottan belterjes, az adott orszagra utalo egy poen, peldaul egy bizonyos emberre vonatkozik, nem a nevet irom le, hanem egy frappans, a helyzetet koruliro kifejezest keresek, gyakorlatilag megmagyarazom a nevet, labjegyzetet keszitek a szoveghez," Timea Hungler, "Toth Tamas Boldizsar: 'Bun rossz szinkronok keszulnek,'" [Some dreadful dubbings are being done], www.magyar.film.hu (visited 5 May 2003), my translation.

(28.) Quoted by Oittinen, p. 37; for the metaphoric use of translation as reading also see Oittinen, p. 17.

(29.) For the Cinderella prototype see Blake, p. 17.

(30.) Cf. Miranda Johnston-Haddad, "Harry Potter and the Shakespearean Allusion," in Reimagining Shakespeare for Children and Young Adults, ed. Naomi J. Miller (New York and London: Routledge, 2003), pp. 162-170.

(31.) A thematic intertext Johnston-Haddad identifies with Titus is the instance when Wormstail sacrifices his right hand in order for Voldemort to reappear in human form. This is reminiscent of emperor Saturninus requesting Titus's hand for saving his sons' lives in Act III, Scene 1 (cf. Johnston-Haddad, p. 165). Another shared element is the importance of family and parentage. Titus Andronicus stands up for his children, and Harry's intention is to avenge the wrongs done to his family (cf. Johnston-Haddad, p. 169). The scene revisited from Richard III is Act 5, Scene 3, where Henry Richmond (later Henry VII) and Richard go to bed the night before the battle of Bosworth, and the ghosts of Richard's victims appear (in the order they were killed), cursing Richard and encouraging Richmond. In Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, during the battle between Voldemort and Harry's wands, Voldemort's wand produces Voldemort's victims (starting with the most recent one) in connection with the spells the wand was used to perform. They support Harry and he cannot hear what they hiss to Voldemort (cf. Johnston-Haddad, p. 167). The author of the article also emphasises "similar themes of kinship and vengeance" (p. 163).

(32.) Zipes, p. 175.

(33.) Blake, p. 17.

(34.) Zipes, pp. 179-183.

(35.) Schafer, p. 217. and pp. 422-423.

(36.) Schafer, p. 17.

(37.) Schafer, pp. 16-17.

(38.) Zipes, p. 175.

(39.) Zipes, p. 174.

(40.) Zipes, pp. 178-79.

(41.) Giselle Liza Anatol, "The Fallen Empire: Exploring Ethnic Otherness in the World of Harry Potter," in Reading Harry Potter, p. 165.

(42.) Anatol, p. 164.

(43.) For the discussion of the myth of Ruritania see Vesma Goldsworthy, Inventing Ruritania: The Imperialism of the Imagination (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1998).

(44.) Douglas Robinson applies the term hyperbole for corrective translations where a chief concern is the improvement of the original (cf. Oittinen, p. 79).

(45.) For the notion of Middle England (what New Labour may see as a traditional, mainstream stratum of the society in England) see Blake, p. 25.

(46.) On the other hand, Elaine Ostry argues that all these characters are minor characters, "all the major players are Anglo-Saxon." Ostry, "Accepting Mudbloods: The Ambivalent Social Vision of J.K. Rowling's Fairy Tales," in Reading Harry Potter, p. 93.

(47.) So much so that in a telling lapsus calami the name is indicated as Patel rather than Patil (Ostry, p. 94.).

(48.) Schafer, p. 63. A similar phenomenon is noticeable in the film versions directed by Christopher Columbus, especially with respect to Afro-American characters.

(49.) Blake, p. 108.

(50.) It would be worthwhile seeing how the Welsh translation handles this matter.

(51.) Julia Park Rodrigues, "There's Something about Harry (Potter): A Second Look at the International Children's Book Phenomenon," http://www.womenwriters.net/bookreviews/ harrypotter.htm (visited 17 September 2003).

(52.) Julia Park, "Class and Socioeconomic Identity in Harry Potter's England," in Reading Harry Potter, p. 186.

(53.) Roni Natov mentions the phrase 'Everychild' when she describes the typical trials and struggles Harry Potter as a questing hero goes through. See Roni Natov, "Harry Potter and the Extraordinariness of the Ordinary," in The Ivory Tower and Harry Potter, ed. Lana A. Whited (Columbia and London: University of Missouri Press, 2002).

(54.) Cf. Ampleforth: My Teacher's a Monk, broadcast on Yorkshire Television, UK, at 22:30 on 29 April 2003.

(55.) Peter Hunt, "Children's Literature," in The Oxford Guide to Literature in English Translation, ed. Peter France (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), p. 107, my emphasis.

(56.) K. B. Rottring, Heri Kokler es a Buz Serlege (Szeged: Excalibur Konyvkiado, 2002).

(57.) Cf. Roland Barthes, S/Z, trans. R. Miller (Oxford: Blackwell, 1990), p. 4.

(58.) For the first one see Michael Gerber, Barry Trotter and the Shameless Parody (London, Gollanz, 2002) and www.barrytrotter.com, for the Hungarian one www.geocities.com/ akaromakarom/401.html (visited 14 April 2004), and for the other three texts see J. F. O. McAllister with reporting by Jeff Chu/London, "The Shy Sorceress," in Time (23 June, 2003) 67.

(59.) My first translation is rather literal, the second one is an attempt at domestication.

(60.) Lefevere cited Edwin Gentzler, Contemporary Translation Theories (London: Routledge, 1993), p. 140.

(61.) Andre Lefevere, Translating Literature: Practice and Theory in a Comparative Literature Context (New York: Modern Language Association of America, 1992), p. 20.

(62.) Oittinen, pp. 91-92.

(63.) Oittinen, p. 91. and p. 87.

(64.) Nancy K. Jentsch, "Harry Potter and the Tower of Babel," in The Ivory Tower and Harry Potter: Perspectives on a Literary Phenomenon, ed. Lana A. Whited (Columbia and London: University of Missouri Press, 2002), p. 285.

(65.) Blake, p. 89.

(66.) Andrew Blake enlists Harry Potter amongst the three "non-religious global cultural icons" that Britain has produced. Following in the footsteps of Sherlock Holmes and James Bond, Harry Potter is the latest distinctly British hero who has a universal appeal. See Blake, p. 91.

(67.) My special thanks go to Penny Brown, who encouraged me to write up this material for publication. The article is dedicated to my aunt Kati, who first presented me with the Harry Potter books in Hungarian.
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Date:Jan 1, 2004
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