For my whole life, or at least for as long as I can remember, stories have been a true love. From my Dad reading Fantastic Fairytales at bedtime, to sneaking a Wilbur Smith novel that I'd been forbidden to read yet, to the wonderful moment on the tube when I realise the poster I've sat opposite is a Poem on the Underground.
But I always have favourites that I can read again and again and never get tired of, and cliche of cliches, one of mine is Harry Potter.
You know what, I don't even care if that makes me highly unoriginal and unsophisticated. It's amazing, you got that? J K Rowling is like some kind of genius. Nothing on this earth would make me pick up Twilight or Fifty Shades of Grey, but Harry is everything that is good in this world: a beautifully crafted piece of magic that is not just about our very famous protagonist growing up, but about me growing up as well. I bet JKR didn't realise that it was all about me when she put pen to napkin all those years ago.
The thing about a series is that I get so involved and know the characters so well, that when it's all over I actually go into mourning a little. This week I completed the Deathly Hallows once again and I haven't been able to pick up a book since. It's like my best friend has emigrated to deepest darkest Peru and forsaken all internet access. Unbearable.
I should admit that this happens quite often and not just with Harry. I've been known to finish a book and go immediately back to the beginning. This happens less often now, I have more self control than when I was a teenager...just. I'm restricting myself to a re-read once every couple of years. Maximum. Because there is a whole infinity of stories to discover in the meantime. And besides, I can't take this sadness more often than that. Oh Harry and co...! What are you doing now? Can't you just be on Facebook or something? And I do not mean Daniel Radcliff who is a big fake and not even close to the greatness of Harry. I mean the real, fictional deal.
Maybe I have problems...cold turkey is the only option really until my next relapse. Alternatively, I could watch the films and become so angry I'm put off the whole thing. Hmm...
For now, to put off any kind of decision, I'm going to read Tales of Beedle the Bard. You know what I'm talking about fellow addicts.
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