| So I want to dedicate this xanga entry to someone that I love, and have loved for about eight years or so now. His name is Harry Potter. And tonight at 12:01 pm, it will be the beginning of the end of our love affair. It's bittersweet, this feeling. On the one hand, we'll have some resolution, some closure. On the other hand, I'll never have this anticipation again, this feeling of excitement leaping around in my stomach, anxiously awaiting the feel of those creamy, crisp pages on my fingertips. Sigh. I have loved the Harry Potter series for many reasons. For one thing, they put fantasy back on the literary landscape where for so long it had been dominated by an antiquated (though phenomenal) series on hobbits and trolls, as well as sub-par and unimaginative rip-offs of the same. Harry Potter existed in the modern world, but wasn't of it, as one might say. J.K. Rowling, in an amazing feat of literary stamina, mangaged to mantain her artistic integrity and imagaination for six books of substansial length and content, which dazzled in her represenatations of Muggles and hippogriffs and dragons, and of people-a pair of prankster twins still round as characters, a tragic hero and his loyal, but complex, best friend, and smart, talented girls. On one hand, my feeling is that however Rowling chooses to end the series, I will be happy. I am confident she will remain true to her vision and to the characters, and she has been a trustworthy author thus far. On the other hand...I will just be devastated if Harry dies. Or Ron. Or Hermione. I will literally be reduced to weeping, soggy heap of nerdiness if she kills them off. Sniffle. Cheers, Harry. Here's to hoping you won't kick the bucket. |
