Dealing with Harry Potter
When I am depressed or sad, one of my major coping mechanisms (or perhaps it's avoidance, I'm not sure any more) is reading. So I've been reading.
While I was in Kansas, I saw the latest Harry Potter movie with the friends I was staying with. Their whole family has been following Harry Potter books and movies since the beginning; I, on the other hand, knew no more than any idiot could've picked up from just living in the United States over the last few years. I had, in fact, determined that the whole Harry Potter craze was silly and I wouldn't deign to participate. But--they were all going and I wanted to spend time with them. They insisted I'd be okay to see this movie even though I hadn't read or seen any of the other earlier Harry Potter entries, so I went.
And I loved it. It was an entertaining, visually engaging, and even moving story.
The next step was clear. I had to read the books. That's what I've been doing this week (and very nearly nothing else--I didn't even bother getting dressed today). I started reading Tuesday, and over the last three days I've read the first six books of the series. That totals 3,341 pages in three days. They are young adult novels and thus read faster than other sorts of novels, but that speedy reading of a series is certainly a testament to how engrossed in the books I've been (both because I actually quite like them and because I want to avoid my real-world responsibilities and fears right now).
After the first couple of books, I thought the series was okay, but I didn't really see the grand appeal it has for so many. Having read further now, I understand this appeal more. The fifth and sixth books are really very good and are quite compelling. So much so, in fact, that I'll be going to buy the final book tomorrow morning, so I can finish this and get on with my life.
While I was in Kansas, I saw the latest Harry Potter movie with the friends I was staying with. Their whole family has been following Harry Potter books and movies since the beginning; I, on the other hand, knew no more than any idiot could've picked up from just living in the United States over the last few years. I had, in fact, determined that the whole Harry Potter craze was silly and I wouldn't deign to participate. But--they were all going and I wanted to spend time with them. They insisted I'd be okay to see this movie even though I hadn't read or seen any of the other earlier Harry Potter entries, so I went.
And I loved it. It was an entertaining, visually engaging, and even moving story.
The next step was clear. I had to read the books. That's what I've been doing this week (and very nearly nothing else--I didn't even bother getting dressed today). I started reading Tuesday, and over the last three days I've read the first six books of the series. That totals 3,341 pages in three days. They are young adult novels and thus read faster than other sorts of novels, but that speedy reading of a series is certainly a testament to how engrossed in the books I've been (both because I actually quite like them and because I want to avoid my real-world responsibilities and fears right now).
After the first couple of books, I thought the series was okay, but I didn't really see the grand appeal it has for so many. Having read further now, I understand this appeal more. The fifth and sixth books are really very good and are quite compelling. So much so, in fact, that I'll be going to buy the final book tomorrow morning, so I can finish this and get on with my life.