Last Page on Childhood
THE BOY WHO LIVED
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.
- Chapter One, "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone," J. K. Rowling, 1997
The end of childhood was celebrated this weekend. My daughter and son, aged 22 and 20, grew up with Harry Potter, the self-doubting, bespectacled misfit boy, aged eleven, who enchanted young readers from the moment Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwart's, left him on the Dursley's front doorstep. Hooked from the beginning, the kids and I would race to the bookstore for the latest book of Harry's adventures in the wizarding world. We would stay up late nightly as I read the early books aloud, the kids tumbled across my lap in their pajamas. Harry's misfortunes, friendships, and madcap mastery of both his fate and talents held us enthralled. The final 759 page adventure, "The Deathly Hallows," was claimed from the postman by my then high school-aged daughter, who holed herself up in her room and read the book straight through. And joy! The films and J. K. Rowling's imaginary world were brought to life by gifted actors and evocative stage settings cast perfectly to the story, kept true by the author herself.
It isn't often I say thank you to another author for more than just his or her sheer talent. But Rowling deserves credit for more than the gift of young reader books so well written they turned thousands of children, including my own, into avid readers. Suddenly kids lined up with Harry Potter books in their clutches at our elementary school Scholastic Fairs, asked for the new Potter books for birthdays, read and reread the stories. Harry Potter books gave parents a reason to chuckle as they read them aloud, enjoying J. K. Rowling's subtle wit and word play, and thankful for the occasional direct words of wisdom all parents hope their children absorb. At one point the Head of Hogwarts School of Wizardry, Professor Dumbledore, says to a young Harry, "It is our choices Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." The great wise wizard isn't speaking of magic or great accomplishments and awards, but of values and integrity, choosing good from evil. It is not our talents that make us who we are, it is what we choose to do with them.
J.K. Rowling has my unending respect as a fine writer, a spinner of tales, and someone who did her homework - knowing precisely what each successive group of readers would want in a gripping tale as Harry's young fans grew up with her hero and his friends. The writing grew a bit more complex, deeper, darker, riskier, her young protagonist and his friends ever more aware and affected by the struggles and danger of the outside world. Part II of "The Deathly Hallows" film finale, released this weekend, left my daughter and her friends teary eyed in a packed Manhattan IMAX theatre. "That was the end of my childhood, Mom," she said to me over the telephone. She sounded sad and grateful and wistful all at once. Me too. I will always look at those seven books on our family room shelf and think of the small children I held in my arms as we read until little eyes grew tired, and of the young teens later sprawled on their beds, deep in the latest installment.
Thank you J.K. Rowling. And thank you Harry Potter.
Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.
- Chapter One, "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone," J. K. Rowling, 1997
The end of childhood was celebrated this weekend. My daughter and son, aged 22 and 20, grew up with Harry Potter, the self-doubting, bespectacled misfit boy, aged eleven, who enchanted young readers from the moment Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwart's, left him on the Dursley's front doorstep. Hooked from the beginning, the kids and I would race to the bookstore for the latest book of Harry's adventures in the wizarding world. We would stay up late nightly as I read the early books aloud, the kids tumbled across my lap in their pajamas. Harry's misfortunes, friendships, and madcap mastery of both his fate and talents held us enthralled. The final 759 page adventure, "The Deathly Hallows," was claimed from the postman by my then high school-aged daughter, who holed herself up in her room and read the book straight through. And joy! The films and J. K. Rowling's imaginary world were brought to life by gifted actors and evocative stage settings cast perfectly to the story, kept true by the author herself.
It isn't often I say thank you to another author for more than just his or her sheer talent. But Rowling deserves credit for more than the gift of young reader books so well written they turned thousands of children, including my own, into avid readers. Suddenly kids lined up with Harry Potter books in their clutches at our elementary school Scholastic Fairs, asked for the new Potter books for birthdays, read and reread the stories. Harry Potter books gave parents a reason to chuckle as they read them aloud, enjoying J. K. Rowling's subtle wit and word play, and thankful for the occasional direct words of wisdom all parents hope their children absorb. At one point the Head of Hogwarts School of Wizardry, Professor Dumbledore, says to a young Harry, "It is our choices Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." The great wise wizard isn't speaking of magic or great accomplishments and awards, but of values and integrity, choosing good from evil. It is not our talents that make us who we are, it is what we choose to do with them.
J.K. Rowling has my unending respect as a fine writer, a spinner of tales, and someone who did her homework - knowing precisely what each successive group of readers would want in a gripping tale as Harry's young fans grew up with her hero and his friends. The writing grew a bit more complex, deeper, darker, riskier, her young protagonist and his friends ever more aware and affected by the struggles and danger of the outside world. Part II of "The Deathly Hallows" film finale, released this weekend, left my daughter and her friends teary eyed in a packed Manhattan IMAX theatre. "That was the end of my childhood, Mom," she said to me over the telephone. She sounded sad and grateful and wistful all at once. Me too. I will always look at those seven books on our family room shelf and think of the small children I held in my arms as we read until little eyes grew tired, and of the young teens later sprawled on their beds, deep in the latest installment.
Thank you J.K. Rowling. And thank you Harry Potter.
No comments have been added yet.
