So what is behind the prodigious success of J.K. Rowling’s imaginative creations? Apart from the fact that they are first and foremost rollicking reads, the secret of Harry Potter’s success lies not in some dark chamber in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry or in the slick and well-oiled PR machine of Bloomsbury’s marketing firm; rather, it lies in the strong vein of fantasy into which Rowling has tapped. And this vein has even deeper roots within the human psyche, firmly grounded in the myths and legends, folk and fairy tales that nurture the cultural and spiritual development of every society. For fantasy offers much more than entertainment. It presents other worlds in juxtaposition to the real world, where good and evil are personified and made tangible, but where the outcome is inevitably one of ‘happily ever after’. It provides imaginative stimulation, with the weird and the wonderful helping to colour the often-humdrum reality of the here and now. And it contains main characters who, though flawed and full of self-doubts, overcome often magical, frightening and awe-inspiring problems that are at the same time reassuringly familiar. In short, fantasy helps the reader cope with, and make sense of, reality.

Like all good fantasies, the Harry Potter series is firmly based in the known world. In essence, it is just a school story – a genre that has been popular with children since Thomas Hughes penned Tom Brown’s Schooldays in 1857. Rowling cleverly anchors each Harry Potter story in the day-to-day world of classes, teachers, exams, sport and holidays with which every child – and adult – can identify. And the vulnerable but resourceful eponymous hero, an unloved orphan with a prominent scar that makes him stand out, is a main character with whom many can empathise. However, Rowling then skews reality by placing the familiar and known primary world of the school in a parallel secondary world that Harry enters through King’s Cross Station. And, once that world has been entered, there is no going back for either Harry or the reader.

Rowling also skilfully utilises elements of traditional myths, folk and fairy tales. She weaves talking beasts, enchantments and down-to-earth slapstick humour with wizards, witches, giants, centaurs, elves, basilisks, ghosts and much more from Europe’s mythological and supernatural heritage. From Rowling’s grounding in her own cultural inheritance, including European history and the Latin language, she creates fantastic creatures such as the Dementors, clever plot twists, frightening or endearing characters, and inventive names and properties for familiar objects. Indeed, she even draws on present events in the latest book, with the ‘terrorism’ of the evil Voldemort creating havoc in the real world of the Muggles as well as in the magical world of Hogwarts.

As well as mythological, folkloric and storytelling traditions, Rowling has obviously been inspired by the rich tapestry of European children’s fantasies, which includes Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865), Five Children and It (1902), Peter Pan (1904), The Wind in the Willows (1908), The Hobbit (1937), The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (1950), The Weirdstone of Brisingamen (1960), Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (1964) and, more recently, The Never Ending Story (1979) and Philip Pulman’s towering achievement, the His Dark Materials series, the last volume of which, The Amber Spy Glass (2000), won the Whitbread Book of the Year Award in 2001.

Australia also has an impressive heritage of fantasy books for children. Their authors have drawn on the singular flora, fauna and landscape around them, Aboriginal myths and legends, and uniquely Australian characters and history. This tradition began with illustrated books such as the rather dated Dot and the Kangaroo (1899), Norman Lindsay’s irrepressible romp The Magic Pudding (1918), the mischievous but endearing Blinky Bill (1939) and the delightfully twee The Complete Adventures of Snugglepot and Cuddlepie (1946).

It was from the 1960s on, however, that Australian children’s writers began to produce quality fantasy novels. Australian Aborigines and their myths and legends were used as inspiration by a number of authors. Tasmanian writer Nan Chauncy explored the relationship between Aboriginal and white Australia in the time-shift novel Tangara (1960), which deals compassionately with the heinous history of the treatment of Aborigines in her island state. Multi-award-winning writer Patricia Wrightson also had an abiding interest in Aboriginal culture and people. Novels such as The Nargun and the Stars (1973), a marvellous evocation of the power of the earth on which we live, and her thought-provoking Wirrun saga (1977–81) are enriched with creatures straight from the legends of the Dreaming.

Australian history has also been used effectively by Australian writers of fantasy. Randolph Stow draws on the Puss in Boots fairy tale, Australian literary works, colonial history and bushrangers such as Captain Starlight to create the hilarious comic satire Midnite: The Story of a Wild Colonial Boy (1967). In a captivating and moving story about love and family, the inimitable Ruth Park takes the reader back to the harsh realities of the life of working families in The Rocks area of Sydney in the 1870s in Playing Beatie Bow (1980). And Nadia Wheatley compares life during the Depression with the period of high unemployment in the 1980s in her carefully researched and poignantly written The House That Was Eureka (1985). Gary Crew also explores Australian history, transforming the chilling story of the wreck of the Batavia off the Western Australian coast in the seventeenth century into the psychological thriller Strange Objects (1990).

As well as time-shift novels such as those mentioned above, Australian fantasy writers have also produced quality epic fantasies exploring the traditional themes of the quest and of the battle between good and evil. These books include a number that have drawn on legends from other cultures. Ruth Manley bases the enchanting The Plum Rain Scroll (1978) on Japanese legends, using her hero’s quest and his battles with the Black Iris Lord to explore the universal values of honesty and morality. Carol Wilkinson also turns to Asia for inspiration in her beguiling The Dragonkeeper (2003), a Chinese saga about the triumph of the human spirit, while Brian Caswell examines how history can help us deal with the horrors and pain of the present in Merryll of the Stones (1989), which draws on Welsh legends.

As well as using the legends of other countries on which to base their epic fantasies, Australian authors have also created convincing and sustained worlds of their own. These worlds often have medieval settings, thus taking the characters into a time and a place when survival was harder and the forces of good and evil were easier to identify. Victor Kelleher creates such a world in The Master of the Grove (1982), in which the main character, Derin, must fight the forces of darkness to find both his origins and himself. Others in this genre include Isobelle Carmody’s beautifully crafted world of the Obernewtyn Chronicles (1987–99), Emily Rodda’s hugely successful Rowan of Rin (1993) and the masterful and gripping writing of Garth Nix in his Old Kingdom trilogy about the all-pervading dichotomy of life versus death: Sabriel (1995), Lireal (2001) and Abhorsen (2003). However, the powers of darkness do not have to be fought only in other worlds, times or cultures. Australian authors have also created gripping, convincing and chilling books with fantastic elements based in the here and now, including Isabelle Carmody’s The Gathering (1993) and Victor Kelleher’s futuristic, post-apocalyptic novel Taronga (1986).

J.K. Rowling’s unprecedented publishing success is in many ways a phenomenon of the twenty-first century, but the seam of fantasy that she has tapped runs much deeper. Whatever one may think of Harry Potter, there is no doubt that he has been a great ambassador for children’s literature, both here and overseas. As well as delving into the magical world of Hogwarts, both children and adults will gain much by exploring the equally creative, emotive and often-erudite fantasy worlds created by Australian authors.