I have finally done it. I have read Harry Potter, J. K. Rowling's imaginative epic, in its entirety.
And it took me way too long to do.
I remember when the Harry Potter craze first reared its enormous head like it was last year. Coincidentally, that year, 2002, was one of the most influential and crucially developmental years of my life. *Initiate sequence: LIFE STORY*
2002 marked the first year I would attend public school. I had been home schooled before, but my mom decided she wanted to start teaching again, thus I was enrolled in sixth grade at good ol' Valley Middle School. As fall approached, emotions like trepidation and excitement swap laps in my brain.
Public school meant having actual teachers with deadlines and homework and various classrooms scattered throughout the hallways of a vast school building. But more than that, public school meant trying to fit in. Even as an 11 year old, I remember having an acute sense of self-awareness, and all sorts of anxieties popped in my head, the most pressing being How would kids view me as a scrawny home schooler? My only solace, as it happened, was also my only good friend at the time -- a fellow home schooler who would also be new to the school. Logan had far more charisma than me though; he made friends like Nicholas Cage makes movies. I thought by sticking with him, I would be okay, we were in it together and we would survive together.
But he and I had zero classes together that first year. I was thrust into a foreign (and potentially hostile) land, surrounded by strange faces that displayed strange mannerisms and spoke with a strange lexicon. Sure, we had things in common, like sports, Spongebob Squarepants, and Dragonball Z, but I hadn't the faintest idea how to conduct myself in a way that would appear relatable, normal.
I slowly learned some social norms that first semester, and even made a few good friends (some of whom I am still friends with today). As Christmas approached, plans for a seasonal field trip to the movie theater came with it. We had the option between seeing Santa Clause 2 -- the sequel to the raucously delightful Santa Clause starring none other than Home Improvement's Tim Allen-- or we could go see Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.
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| If you've ever seen Tim Allen act, you'd know how hard of a decision that was for me. |
Of course, I had heard of Harry by then, albeit by accident. My across-the-street neighbor, Trevor, was friends with another kid our age, Brett, and Trevor asked me one day as we were hanging out if he was alone in thinking that Brett bore a striking resemblance to Harry Potter with his glasses on. I gaped at him, confused and unsure how to respond. An awkward pause later, I simply asked, "Who's that?" with a furrowed brow. It was their turn to gape.
They told me all about the books and the movies and the general magic surrounding that unlikely hero.
I shrugged it off at the time. I wasn't much of a reader growing up and I never really engrossed myself in anything other than football and Super Smash Brothers. Having grown up so closely to my brother, who is three years older than me, I feel I aged with him, matured before many kids my age. This premature maturation (does that even make sense?) left me indifferent to juvenile fads, which is how I saw this Harry Potter character. All that talk of spells and wizards and monsters sounded like trivial, outlandish child's play (bear in mind I was unnaturally arrogant for an 11 year old which added to this sense of superiority). Looking back, I think I thought I was above Harry Potter, like a kid who no longer believed in Santa Clause (not the Tim Allen Santa Clause, that I could totally believe in). I scoffed at those foolish enough to buy in to such rubbish.
I also think part of that indifference had to do with my inherent tendency to avoid mainstream fads, not unlike a present day hipster. If something was already huge, I didn't want to be a part of it. This extended to Pop Music (Brittney Spears, Blink-182, etc.), Pokémon/Yu-Gi-Oh, even khaki shorts (I wore exclusively Jorts in middle school). I wanted to pioneer a fad, not jump in after everyone else knew about it, and, again, I think this was partially due to my pride.
So, unsurprisingly, I was one of the few students who chose to watch Tim Allen over Harry Potter. And I grew up remaining ignorant of Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Looney Lovegood, The Dark Lord, and all the mystery, misadventures, and magic that followed them.
I wholeheartedly regret this ignorance.
In college I met a host of new people, many of which gave me that same gaping looking Brett and Trevor did all those years ago when I said I neither watched nor read anything Harry Potter. After hundreds of recommendations, I started teasing the idea of delving into the novels at long last, but I was sidetracked with school, other novels (e.g. A Song of Ice and Fire, which I would recommend to anyone), and life.
Then, this past August I decided to embark on a roadtrip to L.A. with my friend, Aaron. The drive down would take 26 hours, and I anticipated I wouldn't have enough music or topics of conversation with which to sustain my sanity for such a long trip. Thus, I started looking for books I might listen to. After a short time thinking, my mind fell to the elusive Harry Potter series, something I knew would be an easy, engaging, and entertaining listen that would help while the hours away.
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| L.A. was pretty sweet btw. |
At first, I listened to the books as a cynical adult (Aaron and I share a tendency for scrutiny and sarcastic humor, so his presence enabled this). We criticized, nitpicked, looked for inconsistencies and flaws, tweeted our misgivings, but despite this hardened approach I still felt a sense of enchantment hang around me every time the narrator illustrated the scenes and characters. There was just something about that world Rowling crafted that drew me in, seduced me off of my high horse and served me a warm and inviting drink that made me smile after every sip.
By the third book, I stopped criticizing and instead allowed myself to jump in fully to the magical universe. I became a kid again. I tore through the books, reading each more fervently and relentlessly than the last. Sure they were flawed, leaving a wake of unanswered questions, but I was all in, man, head over heels, truly immersed. This was exactly the kind of series I would have enjoyed as a teen, I knew: action packed, shrouded in mystery, riddled with riddles and puzzles, and accurately portraying the inexplicable complexity of teenage love.
And when I finished reading the last words, I felt that inevitable sense of gleeful remorse that accompanies the end, that troubling yet comfortable sense of finality one feels after completing any worthwhile book series, but the emotion was so much more palpable and poignant than usual. Regret washed over me, wave upon crashing wave. Why hadn't I read these as a kid? What would my life have been like had I done so? How might I have changed, whom might I have befriended, how many Potter Lego sets might I have purchased? I kept feeling like I had missed out on something truly special, something rare that only my generation could fully appreciate and experience to the greatest extent because it started with us and because it ended with us -- because it was written for us.
But I refused that gift, I shoved it aside in my pride. In doing so, in closing the gates of my mind to that world of magic, I think I robbed myself of a once-in-a-generation opportunity, and my childhood was less bright because of it.
This realization has taught me most lengthy life lesson to date: Don't let pride prevent you from opportunity. Don't shut your mind on things that seem different. Don't not do something just because you don't think you'll like it. Because that thing, that opportunity, it might just change your life for the better.
I think our boy, Alby, said it best (not Albus, the other one, Albert).
--Albert Einstein
Keep your mind open, everyone; you will undoubtedly be better off if you do.
Edited by Ken McGurran
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