Sadness
(It figures- on a happy day, something always keeps balance)
I know Harry Potter fans. A lot of Harry Potter fans. Nearly all of my friends have a deep love for the kid-wizard, something which escapes me. On the release of the final movie, I predict people like Mimi and Em will post long epics dedicated to the beloved series. Occasionally, I am frequently asked (mostly by the two above) why I am not a fan of JK Rowling or the series. I shrug, mumble something about it not being a cup of tea I enjoy, and hope the talk of gay Dumbledore and "how much I cried when Hedwig died" will pass.
I discovered a main reason yesterday: I already had a JK Rowling in my life.
Ironically, I made this connection the day after he died.
From the moment I began reading adult literature, I've adored Michael Crichton. From the first line I read in "Sphere" up to his latest (and now last) novel, I've devoured his books. There is no shame in my literary love for anything Crichton. His works might not be award-winning, they might not be as respected, but I adore these paperbacks more than a first edition of "Pride and Prejudice" could ever merit.
It all stems from my secret obsession with fringe and theory-based science. Time-travel, computer implants in brains, genetic and viral mutations, nano technology, and the all-encompassing morality surrounding each and every scientific discovery. Michael Crichton broke these outlandish theories and experimentations into something digestable for the non-physicist, which I was at age 12 and still am.
The thing was, he was one of the few people to ask questions about our future and the role science will play in it. I might not have agreed with all his conclusions (the causes of global warming especially), but I understood how important it was to bring encompass sociology and a hint of morality into progress. Money should not be the one-and-only drive to further genetic manipulation or the uses of quantum mechanics. There might not be a god, but that does not mean scientists should assume that role.
And who doesn't like books about dinosaurs eating people and spitting poison?
I feel a great sadness in thinking about his death. He contributed to my current existance: a thoughtful, avid reader of books. Hell, one sentence in "The Lost World" made me realize I am an atheist! That is how much his books have contributed to my life and education! And to suddenly know all I have in bookshelves (save the few early works I haven't purchased yet) is all there will be- it's a little difficult to process.
I'm sure the Slytherins and Quiddich players out there can sympathize.
I know Harry Potter fans. A lot of Harry Potter fans. Nearly all of my friends have a deep love for the kid-wizard, something which escapes me. On the release of the final movie, I predict people like Mimi and Em will post long epics dedicated to the beloved series. Occasionally, I am frequently asked (mostly by the two above) why I am not a fan of JK Rowling or the series. I shrug, mumble something about it not being a cup of tea I enjoy, and hope the talk of gay Dumbledore and "how much I cried when Hedwig died" will pass.
I discovered a main reason yesterday: I already had a JK Rowling in my life.
Ironically, I made this connection the day after he died.
From the moment I began reading adult literature, I've adored Michael Crichton. From the first line I read in "Sphere" up to his latest (and now last) novel, I've devoured his books. There is no shame in my literary love for anything Crichton. His works might not be award-winning, they might not be as respected, but I adore these paperbacks more than a first edition of "Pride and Prejudice" could ever merit.
It all stems from my secret obsession with fringe and theory-based science. Time-travel, computer implants in brains, genetic and viral mutations, nano technology, and the all-encompassing morality surrounding each and every scientific discovery. Michael Crichton broke these outlandish theories and experimentations into something digestable for the non-physicist, which I was at age 12 and still am.
The thing was, he was one of the few people to ask questions about our future and the role science will play in it. I might not have agreed with all his conclusions (the causes of global warming especially), but I understood how important it was to bring encompass sociology and a hint of morality into progress. Money should not be the one-and-only drive to further genetic manipulation or the uses of quantum mechanics. There might not be a god, but that does not mean scientists should assume that role.
And who doesn't like books about dinosaurs eating people and spitting poison?
I feel a great sadness in thinking about his death. He contributed to my current existance: a thoughtful, avid reader of books. Hell, one sentence in "The Lost World" made me realize I am an atheist! That is how much his books have contributed to my life and education! And to suddenly know all I have in bookshelves (save the few early works I haven't purchased yet) is all there will be- it's a little difficult to process.
I'm sure the Slytherins and Quiddich players out there can sympathize.