July 2005. Half Blood Prince has just been released, and I’ve still never read Harry Potter. Jason comes home one day, arms laden with HP volumes and a tale of his sister twisting his arm to read them. Okay, okay, I’ll read them, too…just so I can say, “See? I don’t like Harry Potter!”
Famous last words, right?
I became obsessed. Over the next year, I read those six books about a dozen times each. If I hadn’t been moving from Wisconsin to Texas, living out of others’ homes for six months, and then transitioning to full-time stay at home mom (to three boys aged five-and-under), I probably wouldn’t have gone full-on obsessed. But I did, and in the years following, I reread the HP series nearly every year.
Recently, I realized that ten years had passed since that first racing gallop through Harry’s world. And while I haven’t read the series every single one of those ten years, I have read Rowling every single year, right up to my recent finish of Career of Evil. Seven HP books, plus three auxiliaries; one standalone literary novel, and three crime-fiction books under a pseudonym. So far, she’s written nothing I’ve disliked. In fourteen books. Which is kinda amazing.
It’s my decade of Rowling. A celebration of the author I’ve probably read most from (counting rereads) in my adult life. (Possibly in all my life.) Cheers to Rowling. I lift my coffee mug to her!