Books That Spoil Us
My lapse in blogging will be attributed to Harry Potter. I started reading the series in July, thanks to Jesse Jarnow’s article “Of Potter and Proust” published in Paste magazine. Jarnow has a style of writing that makes the reader trust his opinion. He mixes humor with the perfect amount of authority, and before I knew it I was off to pick up copies of Potter and Proust. My time with Proust proved unsuccessful. Many apologies to Mr. Jarnow. I promise to return to Proust at a later date.
I spent three weeks with Harry. In that time, I woke up mumbling about muggles, and struggled over Snape’s loyalty. One day I actually thought I witnessed a young boy with a wand. My glimmer of excitement was squelched when I realized it was a drumstick. Obviously Harry had my attention. Since my immersion I have been dwelling in the afterglow of a brilliant story. It is difficult to compliment a work so widely praised and admired. Doubting my own ability to bring something new to the Potter discussion I’ve decided to avoid commenting on the work. Instead I would like to talk about those novels that spoil us as readers.
Personally, once I’ve finished something so perfect it is almost impossible to move on. Since Harry Potter nothing else has captured my attention and emotions. I realize that coming out of a series is a bit more difficult because I was saturated in the fictional world for so long, but what is the cure for this reading illness? How do we move on after becoming so attached to certain characters? Or after settling down in another world? I don’t have an answer for this. My usual solution is to spend weeks reading a lot of first chapters until I fall into another relationship with a captivating novel or series. Is there a better way? I’m hitting the bookshelves to find out.
For those of you who haven’t experienced Harry Potter, please read Jesse Jarnow’s article and then proceed to your local library or bookstore. Enjoy.
