Genetics, fan fiction, and the meaning of life
An excellent rule for avoiding conflict in social situations is to avoid any discussion of religion and politics. A recent addendum to this advice would be to also shun discussing the potential love interest of fictional characters, or in the lingo of fan-fiction, “’ships”. An example: in the world of Harry Potter, for many, Harry and Ginny Weasley never marry, though this was established in the final book’s epilogue. For these fans, whose mantra is “Epilogue? What epilogue?” the correct pairings are Harry and Hermione, Harry and Draco Malfoy, or Hermione and Snape (incidentally, I will contend that last one is wrong on multiple levels). Online discussions of the obviousness or absurdity, propriety or unseemliness of these relationships can assume levels of violent self-righteousness that makes one very grateful that these arguments are conducted largely within a demographic with low gun ownership.
Fictional characters engender so much emotion in us because they are incomplete, no matter how good the author is. In fact, good writing is as much as what should be left unsaid as what needs to be written down. The book (or the movie) can only give us a limited set of facts or images. The full character of a character is left unwritten, and it’s our job as readers to fill this in. Therefore it is the act of reading, when we fill in the blanks with our own visions, that gives the characters real meaning. And when our visions of a character’s personality are denied in book five, or in episode four of the second season, or the epilogue, or even in someone else’s fan fiction, it’s a personal attack. We’ve created the characters in our image, and vested them with our own visions of what they mean to their fictional world, and now that is being annulled. And in the cases of those writing any romances which involve Dumbledore, those fan fiction versions of the character are also just plain wrong.