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‘Fate is always thought to be a positive force, propelling us towards a magical future. Surprisingly, its negative side is very rarely mentioned, as though fate has entrusted the management of its brand image to a PR genius. We always say, for example, “As luck would have it!” Which entirely obscures the idea that the things that luck would have are not always lucky.’
So two lucky/unlucky events occur for Martin. He ends up with round spectacles, and his babysitter on set has to rush home to attend her grandmother’s funeral. Other fateful events are also part of the concatenation of circumstances fomenting – we’re told about J.K. Rowling’s surprising journey into publishing, and David Heyman’s unlikely choice of the first Harry Potter book as a feature movie. All these plot lines eventually intersect at the moment when Martin is hanging about a film set, waiting to be an extra while his father is working. Heyman spots him and is struck by his appearance; he has the perfect look for the part. Screen tests then reveal him to be a natural actor. His parents can’t help but become excited. Martin can’t help but become excited. ‘The adventure seemed so real now; a miraculous life awaited him.’ But fate intervenes again. David Heyman now bumps into Daniel Radcliffe – his original choice for the part – with his parents at the theatre, and this time he manages to persuade them to let Daniel audition for the role, too. It’s a close contest between the two boys, but we all know how it’s going to come out. Daniel Radcliffe has a little ineffable something more. ‘This is how a human life can tip over to the wrong side. It is always something insignificant that makes the difference, the way the simple positioning of a comma can change the meaning of an eight-hundred-page novel.’ And Martin is fully aware of who has bested him, who has stood in his way. ‘Every person’s life is, at one moment or another, ruined by another person’s life.’
While I was reading this novella, I came across an article on the notion of invisible loss, written by the author of the term (and a book to go with it), Christina Rasmussen. ‘Invisible loss,’ she writes, ‘is a profound yet frequently neglected form of grief that arises when we perceive ourselves to be overlooked, misinterpreted, or discounted by the world. This subtle and persistent emotion defies easy definition, manifesting as pervasive feelings of anxiety, sadness, angst, or restlessness. In essence, it is a type of loss, a result of encounters that alter our self-perception.’ Rasmussen has much smaller disasters in mind here than the loss of a movie role that will catapult an actor to global stardom. But her concept attests to the way that losses we might tell ourselves are unimportant and should be sucked up can, in fact, leave long-lasting damage. The key, I think, is in this idea of an altered self-perception. The loss of the Harry Potter role completely alters Martin’s perception of himself: he can only see himself through the lens of this failure and it starts to pervade his entire life.
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