“After my story had been stolen by Rowling and Little there didn’t seem much point in going on with it. As soon as I duped what had happened incidentally I changed the ending of Part One to include the Virtue Agency the theme of which is the exploitation of what is good by what is evil. I also changed the title of my book from “Owen Muldoon and The Philosopher’s Stone” to “Travels with Li Po” and made a few other changes. Given our circumstances at the time taking Rowling to court was an impossibility for a number of reasons I need not go into.
It was suggested to me by my friends and family to finish my book so that I could elaborate on the vision I had for it, no easy matter I have to say, when all your fundamental ideas have been stolen wholesale, not to mention the philosophy that underpins them. That’s why I kept putting it off having long accepted that my career as a writer ended brutally in the summer of 1990 shortly after I had sent my book to Amnesty. Later I sent it to Little and one or two signed documents later knew beyond doubt I had been royally ‘stitched up’ by both of them.
Still, I wrote Part Two so that people could have access to the real deal, the authentic, genuine wholesome story and not the exploitative derivative. There are a few surprises in it as well for the few intelligent people around who are healthily sceptical of the Rowling-Little money-mining scheme they call “Harry Potter.” I am happy with it. At least it is mine.
My purpose in writing it in the first place was to empower kids with a critical view of life that would protect them from the oligarchic power-mongering and media chicaneries that ironically lie at the heart of the Harry Potter series. Li Po reflects the state of abandonment we all endured in the Bogside in the 1980-90s, a state that afflicted kids in particular and brought them face to face with questions of ultimate concern long before they were able to deal with them. If death is a big thing in both books, this is the reason why. My aim was to write a readable book, not to set up a global franchise. That is where Potter and me part company for good. Children’s literature, being depressingly conservative from a political viewpoint, I had it all to do with a book that was way left of centre from the start. I have not abandoned that position nor will I. Maybe the hour has come at last for Li Po that I considered at the time to be ground-breaking and still do. I also knew in my heart of hearts that some tosser or tossers would plagiarise it. I got that right!
Let me also state for the record that it is my unshakeable conviction that Willy the Wizard met with the same fate as my own work and the Bogside Artists support them in their struggle for justice. The Wizarding world of broomsticks and fantasy is derived totally from Adrian Jacob’s book. It should be obvious to anyone who has a modicum of non-deluded sense left that it is utterly inconceivable that the family of Adrian Jacobs would sink themselves in debt, pay millions to lawyers, mortgage their homes and spend 8 long years trying to drag the felons into court just so that they tell a big lie to the world, and expect it to believe them. If you believe to the contrary then your argument should be that they be removed from the streets forthwith and be subjected to electro-convulsive therapy for their own good. I suggest you were better off to take the more reasonable stand that they deserve the benefit of all out doubts with regards to Rowling and her relationship to Little. And that the argument of greed should be leveled at them not at their victims.
Adrian Jacobs’ family are demonised as “greedy”, “opportunistic” etc by the Rowling camp and her supporters in the media (many of whom are, conveniently, Rowling’s personal friends) but it is clear to us that the greed begins with the plagiarism of what never ever belonged to her or Little and which, I believe, was beyond the intellectual reach of either of them at the time. Let us, on the strength of this common sense, entertain the notion that, as with us, what Adrian Jacobs’ people are saying is the truth and always has been the truth; and Rowling-Little not only have a case to answer but, in the name of democracy, should be forced to answer it.
One of the greatest exponents of the uses and abuses of the media and the gullibility it thrives on was the late, great Malcolm Muggeridge. Here, in an essay on the “death-wish of liberalism’ he puts in a nutshell the mindset of the liberal “success-at-any-cost-to-others’ that is the basis of the Harry Potter plagiarisms.
Nobody dares question the mythic Rowling or her assertions any more than they once questioned the tyrannical oligarchy of the USSR. Plus ça change plus c’est la même chose. But it is a salutary exercise to reflect on Rowling’s ‘idea-on-a-train’ nonsense not to mention her immaculate public image and indeed those of her elusive mentors and accomplices in light of the following:
I recall in their yellow jackets a famous collection in England called the Left Book Club. You would be amazed at the gullibility that’s expressed. We foreign journalists in Moscow used to amuse ourselves, as a matter of fact, by competing with one another as to who could wish upon one of these intelligentsia visitors to the USSR the most outrageous fantasy. We would tell them, for instance, that the shortage of milk in Moscow was entirely due to the fact that all milk was given nursing mothers – things like that. If they put it in the articles they subsequently wrote, then you’d score a point. One story I floated myself, for which I received considerable acclaim, was that the huge queues outside food shops came about because the Soviet workers were so ardent in building Socialism that they just wouldn’t rest, and the only way the government could get them to rest for even two or three hours was organizing a queue for them to stand in. I laugh at it all now, but at the time you can imagine what a shock it was to someone like myself, who had been brought up to regard liberal intellectuals as the samurai, the absolute elite, of the human race, to find that they could be taken in by deceptions which a half-witted boy would see through in an instant. I never got over that; it always remained in my mind as something that could never be erased. I could never henceforth regard the intelligentsia as other than credulous fools who nonetheless became the media’s prophetic voices, their heirs and successors remaining so still. That’s when I began to think seriously about the great liberal death wish.
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