Happy anniversary Harry and JK
Twenty years ago, one of the biggest literary and pop culture phenomena found its way to bookshelves, back-packs, beaches, end tables, and mostly into early mornings and late, late nights. Author J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series celebrates two decades this week – the story of the ‘boy who lived’.
I remember the exact moment I heard about Harry Potter. Kat, one of my Girl Guides, mentioned the book. Other girls present enthused. I wondered what they were talking about, and had heard about another children’s book that was fun, but designed for a younger readership – Harvey Potter’s Balloon Farm. Nope, that wasn’t it.
Then I found out one of the local feed mill owners was reading it .... and my step-grandmother was reading it...and kids I knew were reading it. I had to see what the fuss was all about. An avid lifelong reader raised on a lot of Fantasy and Sci-fi, and also with a long-standing foray into horror and thrillers in high school, I was like the other readers I had heard about (seemingly only connected by this book) – HOOKED.
I read the second in the series as well, and then the first movie was released in 2001. I loved the movie as much. I wondered if the actors would make it through the series that seemed to loom ahead of us –I wasn’t certain how many installments there would be, as Harry’s adventures-to-come were very heavily cloistered in the possession of the author.
There were some classic elements: wizards, witches, an orphan, a legend, a looming bad guy everyone was afraid to even name, a group of friends, a rivalry, a mentor, both sketchy teachers and teachers you could trust, a big hairy bodyguard, private school in England, crap relatives, poverty, opulence, mythical creatures and MAGIC.
I watched the second movie in 2002, and then began my own adventures...in motherhood. I didn’t get the third book read in time to see the movie, and experienced it differently – with thrill and excitement that wasn’t quite the same when I had an idea of how things were going to play out. My first baby was born in 2003, the second in 2005 (when Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire was released) – my second baby’s middle initials are H.P. – a tribute, but without the exact namesake. Fortunately he’s a fan, but had he not been, it could have been my own little secret – that he had been named after a hero of mine, one whom I thought was flawed and goofy and yet determined.
By the time the fifth book came around, I was a high school librarian, and a student of mine spoiled a very important detail for me. In 2007, when I heard the final book was to be released, I realized that I didn’t want to hear any spoilers .... so I’d better get cracking.
In August of 2007, I read books three, four, five, six and seven ..... in the three weeks. I read in every tiny, itty bitty moment. I remember the last morning, waking up spontaneously at 6:00 a.m. because I had read until I could no longer keep my eyes open the night before, and here was my body ready to finally wake up and finish what I had started.
I cried my eyes out. I cried over some of the losses. I cried over the beauty. I cried because it was over. I cried mostly because it had all happened. That J.K. (Joanna) Rowling had taken the leap, as an economically disadvantaged single mother, to bring something of dedication to storytelling to spin tales that spoke to so many different generations, nations, systems, and that got us all reading again.
Twenty years. Twenty years since the beginning of something that changed the world in many ways. In the world of instant entertainment, I think we had all bought a future that left nothing to look forward to. In the flash and pop of contemporary culture, I think we had also bought a future that didn’t have room for the simple, for poverty and magic, for rising above, for good values and friendship, or for failure, drawing boards, bad luck, unexpected twists and temporal shifts. I think we thought that that was what we were in store for, and that no one was out there taking the time to weave any longer, because everything, including our stories, could be mass-produced cheaply and unethically. There was no good, clean, grubby fun left. Harry Potter changed all of that.
And out there, somewhere in the world, someone is inspired by all of that, and taking the time to create more stories for us, if we’re willing to crack a spine and settle in, eventually switching on a light, glancing at the clock to reveal a much later hour than we imagined.
Stories like that are the real time travelers, as new readers pick them up and live what was lived once, twice, a million times before, in this case already over two decades, and more to come.
If you haven’t read them .... allow me to recommend that you put them on your summer reading list. Allow your imagination to take you to simple places, to wondrous times, to what feels like miracles and tragedy, adventure and fun.
Happy Anniversary Harry and J.K. I’ll be reading you with you again.