A couple of years ago I was in bed with the flu and extreme insomnia. Bored, self-pitying, I decided I may as well read those Harry Potter books. So I read them all. In a week. Flu and insomnia delirium and intensive HP sort of, a little bit, made me believe that I was, in fact, a wizard. When I started to feel better I took some laundry downstairs and dropped a sock. Instinctively, I slowly reached for my wand to retrieve it. Not even joking.
I no longer believe I’m a wizard (disappointingly), but I do still love those books. They’re a bit like a hot chocolate hug when you’ve just been out in the rain. It’s comfort literature. Once you’re past the first book, they just keep getting more addictive. Yes, in places they could do with more editing, but I like all that extraneous information. All those little details in any book are what create the world and pull you in. It’s why films are never as good as books because they cut out everything not directly relevant to the plot. JK Rowling has created an amazing world which is really easy to get lost in without needing to think too much. They just take me back to reading magical things as a child; Roald Dahl and The Faraway Tree. Love it.
Even grown-ups need a literary duvet now and again just to feel all cosy and magical. Trust me; Harry Potter will do it perfectly.
Best not read them when you’re delirious though.
*Delayed Gratification: I always get into stuff years after everyone else. Even though I genuinely don’t do it on purpose, I like it because everything’s already been published / released by the time I discover it!