From the farthest stretches of fuzzy memory, I remember getting lost in books. Entire summers were spent diving into the endless adventures borrowed from our local small-town library that were inevitably just going to get lost in the house, exactly as I had gotten lost in their words. My mom would pass on whatever book she had just finished reading and a few days later, I would resurface to reality, reeling from the shock of re-entry.
Ending a series always hit harder than most, from the time allotted learning these characters, laughing when they laugh, crying when they cry. As I read, I become them, taking on their lives, their emotions, their surroundings, becoming as real, or more, as my own. The more pages you read of one’s story, the more attached and solid they become.
And now we come to Harry Potter: the infamous series of Hogwarts and wizardry by J.K. Rowling. At the ripe ole age of 22, regardless of the thousands of books I tore through in my childhood, seeking wonder after wonder in all kinds of genres and characters, I hadn’t read Harry Potter.
My brother read them (as I remember) in third or fourth grade. With a three-year gap between us, I had just really began the lifetime wonder of books, reading whatever first-graders do. As my spotty memory recalls, I attempted to read the first book, struggled with words that were past my baby level, and announced “I didn’t like them,” and never seriously picked another up since…
Well, until now, spurred on by my time living in Europe.
A few months ago, I was living in Alcalá de Henares, Spain, in a sizeable city suburb, an hour train-ride outside of Madrid. During this time, I traveled to Madrid in my spare time, visited other cities of Europe on the weekend – the whole lot, yeah?
What was interesting to see, was Spain, and really all of Europe’s, fascination and continual marketing of Harry Potter. Potter’s face on billboards popped out the windows of the tram, boasting of the entire movie collection available to stream on Netflix. Madrid’s numerous tourist shops sold tiny snitches a dime a dozen. Portugal’s main airport had vertical video advertisement of the series. And possibly most befuddling was the Harry Potter fandom store that my roommate and I walked past every day, and one day, into. An entire store, dedicated to a book series, in a very small, non-touristy suburb in Spain? Why? What was this obsession that Europe has with Harry Potter?
Well, I understand now.
While in Spain, I rewatched the entire movie series on Netflix on planes and buses, killing time in transport in the magical little world. They’re great, don’t get me wrong… but they are NOTHING compared to the books.
I finished the final book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows about an hour ago. I had to take a minute after closing that last page, floating gently on my paddleboard in the middle of the lake, wondering at it all, slowly coming back to reality with every lap of the water, distinctly NEEDING something to bring me back, and yet, not wanting to come.
I read it in three days. 759 pages, 3 days. That’s how good they are.
I think I would have finished the entire series in about a few weeks, but the ending of the sixth book (that I will not discuss, in case others would like to discover on their own), kind of ruined me for a bit and I had to take a few weeks break. Deep, rasping sobs, screaming, writing it all off, the loss of an entire morning. When I tell you I get invested, this is what I mean.
I understand now, the entirety of Europe’s continual Potter fascination. J.K. Rowling whirled such a detailed, fantasmic story, rought with such creativity of world and characters. Heart strings pulled continuously for the main characters, spurring and rooting Harry on while we admired Hermione’s wit and laughed at Ron, heart leaping at the threat of You-Know-Who.
The entire series is about 4195 pages. That’s a lot of time spent learning another world. I understand now that Spain and Europe continue to advertise because they’re proud of J.K. Rowling’s Scotland roots. Almost of a form of nationalism – look at this, we’re proud of her, this is awesome! And they should be.
To the Potterheads I didn’t imagine I would so strongly be, I get you. Live with love.
Join me first for my next words, who know what they will be? I’m just going.
