The Boy Who Lived
Jul. 16th, 2007 01:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
swatkatLess than a week left for HP 7. I'm excited. I don't have words to express how excited I am. How nervous. There's this feeling of dread, butterflies in my stomach every time I think about what will happen. Because nothing will be the same after this.
I had no intention of reading Harry Potter the first time I heard about it. A book about witches and wizards? Silly. For children. That's what I thought.
Then I picked it up out of curiosity, a few years later, in a tiny bookstore in a train station. I picked it up and I read the first chapter of the very first book, 'The Boy Who Lived.' And nothing has been the same ever since.
JKR has written about this chapter afterwards. Says some of the writing makes her cringe, and I don't know, maybe it should. But to me – it's perfect as it is, one of the most magical things I've ever read. The cat reading the map and Professor Dumbledore with his half-moon glasses. Hagrid in a motorbike and wizards celebrating everywhere. Petunia Dursley waking up one fine morning to find the Boy Who Lived at her doorstep. It's perfect. It's magical. There is no other word for it. I read it and my world changed.
I picked up the next book, and the snake whispering at the background, "Rip! Tear! Kill!" made me shiver. Azkaban left me breathless and overwhelmed and in love with everyone and everything about this 'verse. I read GoF, and Cedric died, and I knew I had to read more. I had to read something, anything.
So I came online and googled Harry Potter fansites. And then I discovered ff.net. I discovered fandom, and nothing was the same after that.
Harry Potter gave me fandom. You know what that means, right? Harry Potter gave me *fandom*. I'm here with you and I'm talking to you because I picked up Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone that day in the train station.
And now here we are, waiting with bated breath for what happens next, what happens in the *end*.
Fandom will be different after this. Canon will be closed. Our endless fascination with the 'war' scenario will have to be dealt with in a different way, now that JKR will give us her version of the war. Things will change and fandom will change and I don't want them to change. Except that I do.
Does that even make sense?
I don't care if JKR, in someone else's opinion, is a hack who can't string two sentences together. She wrote Harry Potter. And no matter how much the hype is, no matter how much money mediahouses spend on this, it takes a little more than a hack to have the so many people in love with her world and her characters. I hope, someday, I can write as badly as she does.
And maybe some day, years later, our grandchildren will discover the Potter books in our bookshelves, as I discovered The Fellowship of the Ring in my grandfather's bookshelf. And we will tell them, 'We were there when it happened. We were a part of the story.'
To Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. *raises glass*
I had no intention of reading Harry Potter the first time I heard about it. A book about witches and wizards? Silly. For children. That's what I thought.
Then I picked it up out of curiosity, a few years later, in a tiny bookstore in a train station. I picked it up and I read the first chapter of the very first book, 'The Boy Who Lived.' And nothing has been the same ever since.
JKR has written about this chapter afterwards. Says some of the writing makes her cringe, and I don't know, maybe it should. But to me – it's perfect as it is, one of the most magical things I've ever read. The cat reading the map and Professor Dumbledore with his half-moon glasses. Hagrid in a motorbike and wizards celebrating everywhere. Petunia Dursley waking up one fine morning to find the Boy Who Lived at her doorstep. It's perfect. It's magical. There is no other word for it. I read it and my world changed.
I picked up the next book, and the snake whispering at the background, "Rip! Tear! Kill!" made me shiver. Azkaban left me breathless and overwhelmed and in love with everyone and everything about this 'verse. I read GoF, and Cedric died, and I knew I had to read more. I had to read something, anything.
So I came online and googled Harry Potter fansites. And then I discovered ff.net. I discovered fandom, and nothing was the same after that.
Harry Potter gave me fandom. You know what that means, right? Harry Potter gave me *fandom*. I'm here with you and I'm talking to you because I picked up Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone that day in the train station.
And now here we are, waiting with bated breath for what happens next, what happens in the *end*.
Fandom will be different after this. Canon will be closed. Our endless fascination with the 'war' scenario will have to be dealt with in a different way, now that JKR will give us her version of the war. Things will change and fandom will change and I don't want them to change. Except that I do.
Does that even make sense?
I don't care if JKR, in someone else's opinion, is a hack who can't string two sentences together. She wrote Harry Potter. And no matter how much the hype is, no matter how much money mediahouses spend on this, it takes a little more than a hack to have the so many people in love with her world and her characters. I hope, someday, I can write as badly as she does.
And maybe some day, years later, our grandchildren will discover the Potter books in our bookshelves, as I discovered The Fellowship of the Ring in my grandfather's bookshelf. And we will tell them, 'We were there when it happened. We were a part of the story.'
To Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. *raises glass*
