This summer I’ve finished reading, for the second time, the seven-volume Harry Potter series. (Actually, I’ve read “Half-Blood Prince” three times and “Deathly Hallows” four times now.) I’m not generally one to re-read a book, particularly a novel where I know the ending, but I never tire of discovering the gems J.K. Rowling hides among her prose; gems of plot twists, of foreshadowing that one wasn’t aware was foreshadowing, of humor (such as Fred and George Weasley). The gift that Rowling has given me can’t be understated. But why mention it here? Because the immeasurable contributions creators give us are as important, if not more important, than those that can be quantified.

I found myself reflecting on this thesis while watching a rerun of South Park recently. For fans of the show, it was Part Three of the “Imaginationland” series. Kyle — in an act of bravery because it means he may have to perform an unpleasant and unnatural act on Cartman — argues that while imaginary creatures are just that, imaginary, they can be considered real. Why?

Because I think they are real. It’s all real. Think about it. Haven’t Luke Skywalker and Santa Claus affected your lives more than most of the real people in this room? I mean, whether Jesus is real or not, he’s had a bigger impact on this world than any of us have. And the same could be said for Bugs Bunny, and Superman, and Harry Potter. They’ve changed my life. They’ve changed the way I act on the Earth. Doesn’t that make them kind of real? They might be imaginary, but they’re more important than most of us here, and they’re all going to be around long after we’re dead. So in a way, those things are more realer than any of us.

Putting aside for the sake of this argument the mention of Jesus — and reveling in Kyle’s return to 4th-grade speech by contributing to the lexicon the word “realer” — Kyle has a point. It is simply incalculable the impact creative works can have on us, the way we can be transported back in time by hearing a certain song, the way we can frame a life decision based on a character action in a movie. (“What Would Joliet Jake Do?”)

In the marketplace, there are proxy measurements — sales, downloads, royalties. It is said that Ms. Rowling, a then-single mother who after much struggle sold the first “Harry Potter” book for a modest sum, is the richest woman in the world. Fine with me. I can’t quantify how valuable those many hours I’ve spent at Hogwarts are to me. (And we’re talking many hours, as after Book Three it appears her editors lost the ability to cut a word of her ever-longer books; even a fan like me would be willing to cut 80 pages or so of the camping scenes in Book Seven.)

Many of us have seen TV shows of rappers showing off their “cribs.” Their spending and hubris can seem as infantile as the name they’ve given their homes. But is it really our place to say they are overpaid?

If the U.S. government nationalizes the entertainment industry — God forbid — then we as taxpayers will have some say in artist compensation. But for now, as long as I can buy a good novel, or musical track, or DVD, at a price I deem reasonable, it matters not to me how much an artist makes. Very, very few will make Rowling-level money; if reports are true, no author at all is at her level. Some will be fortunate enough to live off of their advances and royalties. Most will need other sources of income. But everyone will be pursuing their dream, which we should all want.

The copyright debate is usually framed in market terms, and there is nothing particularly wrong with that, particularly given how much copyright industries contribute to the economy. But we must remember that there are some contributions made by creators that are immeasurable.

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This entry was posted on Tuesday, September 1st, 2009 at 2:03 pm by Patrick Ross and is filed under copyright opponents, creators, culture, market forces. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.