• Rowling Writes “Really Sad Chapter;” Who Dies in Sleep Tight Evangeline?

    [Tweet url; see this for an explanation of the Greene reference; thanks to Kelly Loomis for alerting me to the tweet]

    What’s the appropriate response to this writing update from Rowling?

    The author of the Cormoran Strike mysteries sends out a tweet in which she writes that she has “been writing a really sad chapter that made me cry several times,” a chapter she is satisfied is “as exactly as sad as it needs to be.” The assumption is that she’s still writing the next Strike novel, one she has told her readers has the improbable title, Sleep Tight, Evangeline.

    Reader response seems to be trending toward the death of either Robin or Cormoran, the characters in whose heads we experience each Strike mystery. Kelly raised the point in her note to me that we’ve speculated about Linda Ellacott’s imminent death after pulling on two Rowling Golden Threads (see ‘Lost Mother‘ and ‘Hidden Hold of Horrors‘). Which would be devestating to daughter Robin for a slew of reasons beyond love and affection.

    My first thought is that there’s no explicit mention of death in the tweet. Maybe we shouldn’t go off half-cocked. It could be a break-up in a relationship, a car accident with critical injuries, or a natural disaster that destroys someone’s home.

    But to be “really sad,” I agree, points to the death of a spouse or lover, a parent, or of a child, from miscarriage to accident (I’m thinking of Jack, Strike’s beloved nephew). Divorce is heavy, certainly, but I don’t think Rowling would be brought to tears by it or call it “really sad.”

    She has deployed, though, the Graham Greene quotation about writers having a “splinter of ice” in their hearts previously and only, if memory serves, in reference to characters she has killed. That’s an implicit reference to the oncoming death of a major Strike character or of one that would make Strike or Robin “really sad,” pain we would feel in cathartic sympathy.

    How about a look at deaths that would be earth shaking and tear-jerking? Let’s start with the story lead characters —

    Rowling tweeted the ‘Psyche Ascendant’ painting after Hallmarked Man‘s publication, which, though it was meant to lift up the hearts of readers disappointed by Strike 8, sure had an alarming message. It seems to cue up Robin’s death in Sleep Tight, Evangeline. Robin’s had so many Near Death Experiences, it almost seems overdue; mythologically, psyche-ologically, and in light of the frequent foreshadowing in Strike’s repeated alarmed pleas to her to be more careful and declarations of his sure destruction by guilt if she dies on the job, we’re set up for her funeral.

    Strike’s death, of course, would end the ‘Cormoran Strike Novel’ series as such, even if he haunts Strike 10 (as he surely would). That would be a grand twist, but I’m not seeing it, even if Robin takes the helm, Cordelia Gray style, in the closer to solve the mystery of her partner’s demise.

    If Nephew Jack dies in Strike 9, that lines up, as noted, as a death that would fall under “really sad.” If that is in the cards, I’d guess it happens in the finale (and, based on ring correspondences and the relevant fairy tale, that Jack will more likely be responsible somehow for Uncle Cormoran’s death than die himself [by falling off the Beanstalk?]).

    We know that Robin’s father is not well. If he dies, perhaps Linda dies soon after from complications of grief — or immediately after from shock — or alongside him in a car accident they have when he suffers another heart attack, this time while driving.

    Or maybe Linda dies all on her own and Michael is left behind to grieve — and to share with Robin how much her daughter’s anger and neglect had broken Linda’s heart? What a hit that would be, especially if Mum dies of a heart attack. This, as noted, checks several Rowling Lake and Golden Thread boxes.

    Those are my only “really sad” deaths.

    Under just “sad” I’d list Lucy, Dave Polworth, people working at the Agency (Pat!), RFM, Matt (not Sarah?), the Rocking Prune, Strike’s half-siblings, his close friends the Herberts — Ilsa, Nick, and their son Benjamin…

    Of course if Ilsa and Nick died in a car accident we’d have something of a connection with the ending of The Silkworm (Robin drives Nick’s father’s taxi into a building with Elizabeth Tassel in tow) and the Agency partners, as Benjamin’s godparents, might have responsibilities for the orphan. Orphans are “really sad” especially at the parents’ funeral — and Robin forced into the role of mother and Strike as father suddenly, that would be a delightful plot twist, no? Joined together as professional partners and live-in parents but not by marriage?

    Whose “really sad” departure or what possible plot event that could move Rowling to tears am I missing? Why do you think Rowling felt the need to share this bit of news? Please share your thoughts in the comment boxes below!

  • The Hidden Cellar Beneath J. K. Rowling’s Childhood Home

    Church Cottage in Tutshill, near Chepstow on the England-Wales border, is best known as the childhood home of J.K. Rowling. The modest Victorian building, later a private residence, briefly returned to the public eye in 2012 when it was put up for sale. Estate agents’ photographs and descriptions highlighted two curiosities that caught the attention of fans and newspapers: graffiti left by a young Jo Rowling in her old bedroom (“Joe Rowling slept here circa 1989,” or words to that effect), and an opening in the floor of the dining room that was widely described as a trap door.

    That “trap door” is more accurately an access hatch. Photographs from the 2012 particulars show a Victorian tiled floor—square quarry tiles laid in a diamond pattern of alternating red and beige—with a rectangular section of flooring lifted aside to reveal a dark rectangular opening. Strictly speaking it is not a hinged trap door; it is a removable slab or framed cover over a hole in the ground, closer in appearance to a heavy access lid than the dramatic hinged doors of fiction.

    A surveyor’s report prepared in connection with the building’s listed status and subsequent works supplies the precise details. The dining-room floor sits on a solid base of the patterned quarry tiles. Beneath it lies a full-sized cellar occupying the entire footprint of the room. The ceiling of this cellar is vaulted in brick, forming an arched structure that carries the weight of the floor above. The access hatch is positioned at the tallest point of the vault. Far from being a cramped storage pit, the space is substantial—room-sized rather than cupboard-sized.

    Floor: Square quarry floor tiles on solid floor. Diamond pattern, with alternating red and beige tiles. This floor is formed by the brickwork vaulted ceiling of the cellar, the cellar access hatch is located in this room.

    Report on the Condition of Church Cottage. March 2017

    Church Cottage was erected in 1852 as a Church of England schoolhouse for Tutshill, predating the church with which it is associated. Why would a mid-nineteenth-century rural school need a large vaulted brick chamber under its floor? My initial, attractive guess was that the hatch covered a cool store for the daily half-pint of milk once issued to British schoolchildren. The dimensions of the opening seemed roughly suitable, and anyone who remembers the warm, faintly unappetising milk of mid-twentieth-century primary schools can appreciate the appeal of a cool underground box. That theory does not survive closer examination, given the evidence we have now for the size of this room.

    Vaulted brick cellars of this type are a recognised feature of larger Victorian houses in hard-water districts. They were commonly constructed beneath sculleries and functioned as cisterns. Rainwater collected from the roof was directed into the sealed underground chamber, providing a supply of soft water free of the dissolved minerals that made soap almost useless. In a school serving dozens of children, why would the building need a rainwater cistern?

    The timing is significant. Britain in the late 1840s was still reeling from cholera epidemics that had swept through its towns and cities. The Public Health Act of 1848 created local boards charged with improving sanitation and water supply. In densely populated urban areas, mains water and sewers began to appear. In a rural parish such as Tutshill, mains water was impractical. Sinking a conventional well on the same small plot as latrines for forty children carried obvious risks of contamination. Collecting roof water into a purpose-built, lime-plastered (and possibly metal-lined) cistern offered a contemporary solution that aligned with the new public-health priorities. The chamber would have been kept partially full, with an overflow arrangement to prevent flooding and a lead pipe rising to a hand pump for drawing water.

    Later Victorian school buildings abandoned the arrangement; roof water contaminated by bird droppings was never ideal, especially so close to the coast. By Rowling’s childhood the cistern had long ceased to function as a water store. The surveyor’s report does not mention standing water, and in a modern house an impermeable underground tank of stagnant water would be undesirable. The structure is therefore likely to be damp rather than flooded, the original waterproof lime rendering no longer fully intact.

    The feature remains a quiet reminder of the building’s origins. What estate agents once billed as a romantic trap door is in fact a mid-Victorian public-health engineering solution: a vaulted brick rainwater cistern that once lay dark and wet beneath the feet of Tutshill’s schoolchildren, and later beneath the dining table of the family that included a future novelist. The hatch in the tiled floor is still there—an unassuming rectangular interruption in the pattern, opening onto a surprisingly generous arched chamber whose original purpose had been forgotten until the surveyor’s measured description brought it back into view.
    Pre-renovation elevation and plans. More after jump —

    Read More “The Hidden Cellar Beneath J. K. Rowling’s Childhood Home”

  • The Magician’s Nephew and Magic Far Deeper than Netfilx

    Ever since word began circulating about the upcoming Netflix production of something resembling The Magician’s Nephew, I have beenThe Magician's Nephew: Full Color Edition trying to ignore it. In fact, this week, I was just hoping to post a little something about the lovely experience of seeing the theatrical re-release of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (yes, they fixed the title!) with our adult child who was not born for the first time. I’ll get to that soon, I hope. Recent announcements about the Netflix show have created a storm of responses on social media, so I should probably wade into the fray. It should come as no surprise that I am less than enthusiastic about this latest exhibition of Hollywood nonsense. However, as some others have pointed out, it is important to heed the admonition of King Tirian, who tells Eustace not to “scold like a kitchen girl.” In that spirit, I am avoiding mere complaints about Hollywood being Hollywood and offering a few of my thoughts about Lewis’s work, my own complete lack of enthusiasm for this newest, predictable business, and some suggestions for us all to maintain our joy and mental well-being in this fallen world.

    Read More “The Magician’s Nephew and Magic Far Deeper than Netfilx”

  • Rowling Tweets About Congenital Blood Condition: von Willebrand Disease

    [Tweet url here and here: Hat Tip to Kelly Loomis!]

    Rowling had the above twixter conversation with journalist and friend Janet Murray (no known relation to husband Neil Murray) about both women’s struggles to maintain iron levels in their blood. Rowling mentions as an aside her being “diagnosed with von Willebrand’s disease” (VWD) by a haemotologist. VWD is “the most common hereditary coagulopathy in humans, affecting 1% of the population” per Wikipedia.

    This was not a revelation, though her discussion of her daily concern with absorbing iron certainly was (imagine writing the haemotologist Roy Phipps scenes in Troubled Blood while surviving on a diet of 90% kale…). She had tweeted about being “born with a bleeding disorder” in December 2025 and Nick Jeffery noted at the time that it was probably VWD because of its prevalence in the population and its appearance in Strike 5. Rowling’s 9/11 tweet confirmed Nick’s Best Guess.

    Nick went on from his first post to catalogue in his ‘The Troubled Blood of J. K. Rowling‘ the Blood Golden Thread’s appearances and meaning throughout Rowling’s work. That brilliant exposition was followed up by a Rowling Studies conversation on the same subject, ‘Blood: The Crimson Thread.’ If you were unaware of that strand or commonplace in nearly everything Rowling has written, it’s a fascinating study in the intersection of Rowling’s biographical Lake inspiration and her Shed artistry by which she elevates blood to a social, psychological, and spiritual metaphor.

    I confess, though, I’m most interested in Rowling’s ideas about blood because of a twitter header she posted when writing Troubled Blood: Read More “Rowling Tweets About Congenital Blood Condition: von Willebrand Disease”