I’m not ashamed to admit I’m a fan of Harry Potter. I started reading the books in the boredom that was Belleville and my third work term. Lucky for me, Belleville has a Chapters, and I have a love of reading. I bought and then devoured the first three of the series (Philosopher’s Stone, Chamber of Secrets and Prisoner of Azkaban) several times over four months. Number Four (Goblet of Fire) was purchased in paper back as soon as it was available, and was read one weekend I really should have been for an electromagnetics final. Number Five (Order of the Phoenix) was purchased in hard cover at midnight the day it was released and read in an 8-hour sitting. Now I wait for midnight tonight for Number Six, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
I’ve been called geeky, childish and odd. Yes, I’ve bought both forms (children’s and adult) of the soft-cover books. Yes, I’ve given my hard-cover versions away because I don’t have a complete set anyway. Yes, I’ve read each book about five times by now. But a girl needs a hobby, doesn’t she?
Part of my like is that I was a big-time reader as a child. I spent a lot of time in the car with my parents, so I would read. I had a small library of Baby-Sitters Club books in the backseat with me. I still like to read for recreation when I have the time. I know that if these books had come out 10-15 years ago, I would have been a devoted fan. It’s a little bit of nostalgia. The books are fun in a way “adult fiction” is not, but they are not necessarily “kiddie”. We’re dealing with fantasy, yes, but there is also some great imagery and some very “adult” ideas and struggles.
The movies are fun too, but I prefer the books. When reading you can picture it yourself, you can roll words around in your head… up until the first movie, I had “Hermoine” sounding a whole lot different than it actually does. Even the movies have not totally imprinted the sight of Hogwarts or the characters within on me.
So you’ll find me at Chapters tonight at midnight, book in hand and first chapters consumed before bed. I won’t skip to the end to find out what happens (as I am tempted to do - get the book, read the end in the store and loudly proclaim, “Dumbledore is dead!”). And I’m not going to write about who dies, or what happens. You have to read it, in my opinion, to find out for yourself.
For the “good Catholic”, check out this.