I started reading the Harry Potter series – reluctantly. It was one of those book phenomenons that fascinated me and I wanted to know what the fuss was about. On the other hand, I used to belong to a bookclub and was still aware of the precious moments I had wasted reading absolute crap at the request of other members.
I am a book snob.
I am not a wine snob, a fashion snob or a gourmand. However, I do select my books with care. My time spent reading these days are in between picking up children or while on route to the garden. I’m picky because this time is precious to me.
(Yes, I am also a walking reader.
No, I have not ever walked into anyone, anything or off the sidewalk into traffic. I’m a mother. I can multi-task.)
However, this time the trailer of the most recent Harry Potter film looked good. So good, in fact, that I re-read the book previous to it, rented the movie and then read the book that links to July’s movie. I was doing research; I was looking up definitions for curses, ingredients for potions and perusing through wizarding family trees.
I have found that I am only slightly more addicted to the books than I am to the Harry Potter Wiki online.
So I’m declaring “uncle” to J.K. Rowling. Woman, you got me. I’m now 3/4 through Deathly Hallows and I’ll be sad once it’s done. I’m even thinking of coordinating a trip to Ontario to see a friend at the same time as the first part of the final movie comes out (yes, they are doing this in two parts – ooooh, how exciting! I’m tingling!).
I’m not going to read that vampire series though.
I simply refuse.