They’ve all been well-plotted, but the final Harry Potter is most fast-paced of the seven books. I finished Six on Saturday, and started Seven that night. I hadn’t inhabited Harry Potter’s world for about three years, and I think my hiatus really enhanced the pleasure of returning there. Once I got over all the “cold smiles,” “knowing smirks,” other juvenile writing techniques, I was utterly absorbed in finding out what happened next. I also confess that I wanted to participate in all the hype of reading this last installment with the rest of the world.
Sunday was busy, but I started reading again yesterday evening, sitting next to the bathtub with my book and then letting Rod do story time. The chickens passed out around nine, he kissed me goodnight around midnight, and a while later–I thought it must be around two–I got up off the couch to turn in. I checked my watch and saw it was one-thirty. Since I had thought it was two already, I reasoned that I might as well read for another half hour. When I came up for air, my head was aching, my eyes felt red and itchy, but the seven-year saga of Harry Potter was over. I checked my watch again and nearly fell off the couch this time: 4am.
Thanks, J.K., it’s been a good ride.
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July 31st, 2007 at 4:04 pm
We are almost to the the half way point and loving it.
July 31st, 2007 at 8:05 pm
My husband bought me the first HP book several years ago, and I couldn’t get past the first 20 pages; the writing was intolerable. Given the rest of the world’s enthusiasm, I feel like I’m lacking some sort of good humor–or, as you will surely be writing soon–humour gene, not that I really needed any evidence at this point. But I imagine I’ll be happy to read all the Harry Potters with my kids when they’re old enough.
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