Friday, July 15th, 2011

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all good things …

Must eventually come to an end.

I was bereft in 2007 when the pages dwindled and finally, I read the last words of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I’d pre-ordered my copy, and had driven straight over to the bookstore at midnight to pick it up upon its release.  (Yes, I was 27).  I did not go dressed in costume (although I was in the minority) and my companion, who had never read a word of HP in his life, was less than amused.

It didn’t matter to me.  When I got home, I turned on the light by the couch, and settled in to read “just the first chapter” … until 6am.  I remember how gingerly I opened the cover, and the sound of the binding and paper crinkling and cracking.  I remember smoothing the first page of text, and reading quotes by Aeschylus and William Penn.  I remember tears prickling my eyes as I read the inner flap of the book’s jacket.  No tidily written blurb about what was to come.  Just this ~ ” We now present the seventh and final installment in the epic tale of Harry Potter.”

I’d come to the Potterverse late … but not as late as some.  Diagnosed with mononucleosis during my junior year of college, my mother (who had just read HP #1) suggested I give the books a try.  I believe my initial reaction was to turn my nose up at the idea of reading a kid’s book.

But ….

I was trapped in a bed with very little else to do of which I was capable.

And thus began my ten year (and counting) love affair with Harry Potter.

When I began reading about his adventures at Hogwarts, the first four books had been published, and both #3 and #4 were available only in hardcover.  I read those first four books in three days.

And then I waited two more years before Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix was released.  I distinctly remember two friends and myself sitting together in the living room of an apartment, reading silently for hours.  We’d take mini-breaks and discuss what we’d read so far.  I finished the book at 4am, during a thunderstorm, and I remember lying in my bed with tears streaming down my face.  I was devastated at the loss of a character (I’m trying not to put in spoilers, because if you haven’t actually read the books, you should).  I was tormented by the darkness of this fifth installation (debatably my favorite other than the last, and by far the worst movie adaptation).  I couldn’t believe it was over … and wasn’t sure when the next tale would come.

Last summer I decided that prior to the movie release of HP and the Deathly Hallows Part I, I was going to introduce John to the magic of J.K. Rowling’s original story telling.  We own all the books (and all the movies, which he’s seen), but I knew that getting him to pick it up and read it ahead of all the other books stacked on his nightstand would be a challenge.  So for his birthday, I bought the book on audio CD.

It was genius.  Each drive to work we would listen with baited breath to Jim Dale narrate the story.  Towards the end, John would get into the car for our drive home and immediately turn on the stereo.  As the final chapters approached, we lay on our couches at night listening to Harry Potter.  It was magic in and of itself.  (He has mentioned ~ and not totally begrudgingly ~ that having listened to #6 and #7, both those movies were disppointing … but I say ‘So what?’ ~ I’d rather he experienced the truth for at least one of the books!).

Tonight is really the end.  No more movies to be released, no more books full of stories set in the magical wizarding world.  It’s bittersweet.  At 10.15 this evening, as we settle into our seats and the lights dim, for us, the final movie-making chapter of Harry Potter will commence.

I know I won’t stop reading (and listening!) to the books.  Or stop watching the movies. I’m excited to see this last chapter on the silver screen, just as I was eagerly excited to hold in my hands and read the final book upon its release four years ago.

It doesn’t change the element of sadness that underlies it.  But, as we all know, all good things must come to an end.  And the books, and stories within in them, aren’t just good. They are, and will remain, great.