My husband thinks I'm the Biggest Nerd of All History for liking J.K. Rowling's creation, Harry Potter. We'll not get into a discussion of how he thinks her writing is poor and her ideas stale. We'll not focus on my trademark response of, "Well, Mr. Unpublished, how many books of yours have captured the attention and imaginations of millions of readers worldwide, many of whom would never think to pick up anything under the category of 'fantasy' let alone the category of 'book’? And how many ninth graders have you had to stop from reading Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix in your classroom? None? Okay, then, shut up.” We’ll ignore Stephen’s not-so-disguised zeal for hard-core science fiction, a zeal that promises he will be homebound this Friday evening as the Sci-Fi channel begins airing this season’s new episodes of its shows.
Don’t leave just because you’re sick of the Harry Potter hype. And also don’t leave because you think I’m a husband-hater—I’m actually a self-proclaimed husband-lover, and I can’t wait to get home on Sunday. But I love getting lost in Rowling’s books, and to be honest, the upcoming unveiling of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince has been infiltrating almost every part of my daily routine. Well, without a summer job while on vacation I really don’t have a daily routine, but still, every conversation either my sister, Candice, or I take a part in seems to steer toward Harry. So I thought posting something on the subject, no matter how pointless, might act as some sort of therapy for my saturated brain. Indulge me.
My sister and I have been loyal Potter fans ever since The Philosopher’s/Sorcerer’s Stone came onto the scene. Typically, we have some sort of celebration either during the week or the night of the unveiling, such as a family viewing of the latest movie. At the stroke of midnight we run up to a store (Wal-Mart last time) and grab a copy each. And then the reading commences. If we have no obligations, reading a 500-800 page copy usually takes two straight days. We stay secretive, so as not to divulge any top-secret information to the other. Once each has finished, we can talk freely, discussing surprising story twists and any shortcomings we felt the book possessed.
This year we’re stepping up on the Pottermania ladder. Thanks in part to the fact that Tyler Kistler, recent Olivet graduate and current youth intern at my family’s church, is also Harry-crazed, we have preordered our books to ensure genuine copies in our hands at the stroke of midnight on Saturday, July 16th, 2005. Books-a-Million, Texarkana’s premier book stop, is hosting a Potter Party from 9 p.m. until midnight, complete with face-painting, movie screenings, and a costume contest. I think that this last element excites the three of us the most. All week we have been naming and renaming our choices for the contest, and I think we’ve decided on this: I’m going as Professor Severus Snape (complicated character—former Voldemort supporter and Death Eater, now loyal Dumbledore follower with a certain grudge against Harry, which leads him to insult the boy-hero at every turn, particularly during his Potions class. Also, I think the fact that he’s played by Alan Rickman in the movies has influenced my decision.); Candice will be Sybill Trelawney (odd-ball Divination teacher, whose predictions are generally seen as “woolly,” not counting the two trance-like occurrences that have pointed toward Harry’s troubled fate); and Ty is either going to be Draco Malfoy, Tonks, Cedric Diggory, or Albus Dumbledore. He’ll probably have a clearer idea about two minutes before we leave for the party. We’re all becoming giddy and loud with anticipation, and we’ve managed to rope my dear cousin Zachary Nash, who just happens to be visiting, into coming with us, although he is quick to comment that he will definitely not be dressing up—and he’s only coming so he won’t be stuck at home with the adults.
I suppose I’m expected to be an adult. I’m out of college with a teaching job lined up for the fall, and I’d admit embarrassment if I were at a Harry Potter party in Oxford, Miss. where future students competed against me in a costume competition. (Note: I will be angry to the point of violence if some stupid kid wearing round glasses and a painted-on lightning-shaped scar wins over me merely because he is closer to Harry’s age. When a free book is the prize, I get physical.) But I demand this small luxury of fantasy where I can still be a kid, or at least a teenager, and get unbelievably hyped about a book. A book. Not a movie, not a game, but a book. If my ninth graders want to talk Harry, I want to speak their language. And I want to relish that sweet feeling of an unprecedented communion with millions of other Potter fans on July 16th, when we crack open that cover and follow Harry’s adventures for the sixth time. Send in the hype—I’ll have my wand ready.
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