Harry Potter
No spoilers here, don't worry
Today was Harry Potter day. I was too tired last night to drag my ass to Borders at midnight to pick up my reserved copy, so I got the book this morning. Besides, I really didn't want to deal with a bunch of crazed fans dressed up as various characters. Just not in the mood for that kind of drama. The book went into the trunk for the ride home, so I wouldn't be tempted to read it in the car (no, I wasn't driving).
I've been looking forward to this book for a long time. However, once I got it home, settled into my chair, cat in my lap (I swear he knows HP books from every other book I have), I couldn't open it. I sat there, staring at the cover, knowing it was the last one. Never again would I have the marathon rereading of the previous books so that I could adequately be prepared for the new one. Never again would I have the "can't wait!" excitement of anticipation. Never again will there be the "holy crap, I can't wait for the next one!". Never again would I have the first reading of a HP book and all of the laughter/sadness/outrage over the twists and turns of the book, trying to keep it quiet because my husband hasn't read it yet and I don't want to ruin anything for him. Never again will I have the bouncing impatience of waiting for my husband to finish the damn book already so we can talk about it, asking him "where are you at?" every hour or so (he's a slower reader than I am). Actually, it's probably good that the last part will never happen again, he gets annoyed after a while. So, as I sat there with the book and cat in my lap, I had a really hard time starting to read it. If I started it, I would have to finish it, and that would be it.
But I took a deep breath and read it. I had to force myself to slow down and go back about 10 times, just because I wanted to try and savor this last HP experience. A couple of times, I had to move to a different room because I was sure I would have some sort of verbal reaction to an upcoming event, and didn't want to spoil it for the husband. For the last hour of the 8 hours it took me to read it (breaks only for bathroom, dinner, and helping my friends catch some caterpillars and cocoons in our yard for a local science museum), I moved to our bedroom and shut the door, knowing something was going to happen to make me cry out some sort of curse or happy shout. And then it was done. I had finished. The story was over. I'm pretty satisfied with the book in general. I can't wait to read it again, but the husband's got it. I've only asked him where he's at twice so far.
I'm an avid reader, when time allows. Always have been. I've lost count of the number of times I've read certain books. My latest theme has been classics by female authors....Jane Austin, the Bronte sisters, etc. Stuff I never read in high school or undergrad because I was on the honors track (apparently, Bronte, Plath, & Austin are not considered important for honors students). But I haven't found myself unable to put any of those down (except maybe Jane Eyre...that was a good one). I also haven't found myself looking forward to those as much as I did the HP books. It makes me wonder if there will ever be another book like this that will captivate so many readers. Will we ever see another time where people are preordering their books 5 months in advance? Will there ever be another time where I'm so excited by a book that I won't go to sleep before I finish it? I hope so. I'm hoping I'm just disillusioned by my Harry Potter hangover.
Today was Harry Potter day. I was too tired last night to drag my ass to Borders at midnight to pick up my reserved copy, so I got the book this morning. Besides, I really didn't want to deal with a bunch of crazed fans dressed up as various characters. Just not in the mood for that kind of drama. The book went into the trunk for the ride home, so I wouldn't be tempted to read it in the car (no, I wasn't driving).
I've been looking forward to this book for a long time. However, once I got it home, settled into my chair, cat in my lap (I swear he knows HP books from every other book I have), I couldn't open it. I sat there, staring at the cover, knowing it was the last one. Never again would I have the marathon rereading of the previous books so that I could adequately be prepared for the new one. Never again would I have the "can't wait!" excitement of anticipation. Never again will there be the "holy crap, I can't wait for the next one!". Never again would I have the first reading of a HP book and all of the laughter/sadness/outrage over the twists and turns of the book, trying to keep it quiet because my husband hasn't read it yet and I don't want to ruin anything for him. Never again will I have the bouncing impatience of waiting for my husband to finish the damn book already so we can talk about it, asking him "where are you at?" every hour or so (he's a slower reader than I am). Actually, it's probably good that the last part will never happen again, he gets annoyed after a while. So, as I sat there with the book and cat in my lap, I had a really hard time starting to read it. If I started it, I would have to finish it, and that would be it.
But I took a deep breath and read it. I had to force myself to slow down and go back about 10 times, just because I wanted to try and savor this last HP experience. A couple of times, I had to move to a different room because I was sure I would have some sort of verbal reaction to an upcoming event, and didn't want to spoil it for the husband. For the last hour of the 8 hours it took me to read it (breaks only for bathroom, dinner, and helping my friends catch some caterpillars and cocoons in our yard for a local science museum), I moved to our bedroom and shut the door, knowing something was going to happen to make me cry out some sort of curse or happy shout. And then it was done. I had finished. The story was over. I'm pretty satisfied with the book in general. I can't wait to read it again, but the husband's got it. I've only asked him where he's at twice so far.
I'm an avid reader, when time allows. Always have been. I've lost count of the number of times I've read certain books. My latest theme has been classics by female authors....Jane Austin, the Bronte sisters, etc. Stuff I never read in high school or undergrad because I was on the honors track (apparently, Bronte, Plath, & Austin are not considered important for honors students). But I haven't found myself unable to put any of those down (except maybe Jane Eyre...that was a good one). I also haven't found myself looking forward to those as much as I did the HP books. It makes me wonder if there will ever be another book like this that will captivate so many readers. Will we ever see another time where people are preordering their books 5 months in advance? Will there ever be another time where I'm so excited by a book that I won't go to sleep before I finish it? I hope so. I'm hoping I'm just disillusioned by my Harry Potter hangover.