HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE By J.K. Rowling Bloomsbury Price: Rs 895 Pages: 608

The previous tome of J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, was about Harry Potter's end of innocence. The sixth part of Potternama, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, reads like the end of all common sense. As the author's fortune has grown in size (the only writer to have become a billionaire), so has the voluminousness of her imagination. But unlike her earlier works, this one reveals signs of Rowling's adolescence.

PICTURE SPEAK

POTTERING ABOUT: (From left) The evil Voldemort, Dumbledore, author Rowling and the angry young Potter

The Potter saga began magically, creating publishing history. It also opened the casement windows of an enchanted world to a disenchanted world. In these times that can be best described as one shadowed by evil-with suicide bombings which were born in Palestine, bloodied America and changed London's complacency forever-the negritude of Lord Voldemort's shadow had identifiable pixels. The little orphan Harry, tortured by his own kin, his parents murdered as Death Eaters began their rampage, symbolised the ultimate underdog. Wish-fulfilment lay at the centre of Harry Potter's magic. Muggles of all ages, wearied by a feeling of powerlessness in a society where empowerment came through the pursuit of wealth, had discovered a new enchantment. Potter was not a child fighting merely for what Hogwarts and Dumbledore stood for, but for the very soul of modern society. It was a human journey into a magical universe where parallel alleys of escape exist, secret journeys of bewitchment begin by walking through a wall at Waterloo station and, above all, great mages like Dumbledore protect the human world from the depredations of evil.

But what began as a great storyteller's own discovery of magic is turning into an aspirational litterateur's global rant. The world is a melting pot of allusions, and Rowling has discovered the power of celebrity. The marketing of Harry Potter claims its primary victim: the writer herself. She has decided to become Kafka.

This verbose book begins with the British prime minister being advised by the minister of magic that Death Eaters are on a carnage spree. Harry is not the same after the death of Sirius; he is also in a mood to challenge Snape. Lucius Malfoy is in the Dark Lord's pay. The new potions teacher reveals a terrible secret. Quidditch is not as feverish as before. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny are all part of a romantic, snogging quartet. Hagrid's spider dies and the Prophecy has as much mystique as a crossword puzzle. Harry is more restless and vulnerable. He is frozen and disarmed by the enemy too often while his mood swings resemble a Prozac addict on Ecstasy. The plot attempts a grand finale but becomes a victim of its own formula. Rowling's sense of drama is inadequate here: if it was not for the half-blood prince, it would seem her imagination had checked in the broom a volume ago. But the prince is brilliantly plotted and the identity so well concealed that it could have been a Horcrux.

Ah, the death in the end? It becomes obvious in the middle.