So what I have been reading these past few days is Harry Potter (yes, I am just now making my way through the series for the first time) mixed with breaks for Flannery O'Connor short stories.
About my H.P. experience. I am now on book three and am finally at the point where I can't wait to have a chance to go back and read it. My good friend Lauren who is an adorably unashamed Harry Potter nerd was flabbergasted when I told her earlier last summer that I had not read any of the series. Truth be told, I wasn't allowed to read the books when they first debuted because my parents were highly suspicious of the wizard-sorcery theme and the affect it could have on their wide-eyed, impressionable first-born. Once I got older, I figured the Harry Potter was a train I missed and moved on to greater literature without any desire to discover what millions of readers had found so enticing...supposing that it was merely a passing fad that would eventually die out. However, being around Lauren and several other friends my age who grew up with Harry Potter and still hold a tenacious fascination for the series, I realized that this was no passing fad and.....yes. Peer pressure got to me. Lauren, enthusiastic to share her love with me, loaned me the first three last summer, and I decided I would use the summer break to read the entire series. Heh. That didn't happen; I honestly had to force myself to plod through the first one, very disillusioned about Harry Potter's charms and wondering how it could have possibly created such a cultural stir. So, at the end of the summer, I had successfully made it through.....one Harry Potter book. Shameful. However, having borrowed the books from Lauren and knowing she was eagerly waiting to hear how I liked them kept me accountable to press on. I just finished the second novel this past Christmas, in the car on the way to my grandmother's in Charleston. Towards the end of the second book, I felt it. I was finally hooked. I couldn't wait to start Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I am now on page 371 and actually experience EMOTIONS while reading it, and each time I set it down I look forward to when I can pick it back up again.
Cliche, yes.
But I am also somewhat relieved that I can finally relate to the rest of fellow mankind in this way. That I will no longer have no idea what people are talking about when they say things like, "That old man reminds me of Dumbledore," or "Ten points to Gryffindor!" I arrived late to the conversation, for sure. I don't think I will ever be able to take part as enthusiastically as others, partly because I am not entitled due to not having grown up with Harry Potter, and partly because even though reading the series is enjoyable now for me, it would never be among my list of favorites. But at least I can check this off my list and not have to wonder any more.
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