Sparky Sells Out

This goes back to another conversation I had with Colleen a couple weeks back when she was up for a visit in advance of mom's hip surgery. We were talking about Harry Potter, as the seventh and final installment of the Potter saga was out and all the rage everywhere you looked. And like I said then, and it's still true now, I haven't read a single sentence of any of the Harry Potter books, nor have I watched a minute of any of the movie adaptations. It didn't start out as any sort of boycott on J.K. Rowling or anything like that. At first I just missed the boat. Then it got so over-hyped that the thought of touching any of those books made me feel ill. I just started avoiding the entire thing.

On the other hand, there was this feeling that I was missing out. I'm sure the books are well written and that I would enjoy them whenever I finally broke down and decided to give them a shot. In my lifetime here I've decided that I need to experience everything possible that I can experience, and especially the best stuff, so I'm really just hurting myself by not digging in. It would be like if I never started reading Stephen King in the mid-80's because he was this monolithic best selling author. That wouldn't have benefitted me, and I'm sure this isn't either.

My local comic book guy kind of put it in perspective, too, in a roundabout way. Back when Sandman first came out and was all the rage, he put off reading it because it was so hyped, and everybody kept pushing it at him, and then he swore a vow that he'd *never* read it, and he never has. And this is Sandman, perhaps the best comic book series ever put out. He's missing out. I don't want to miss out.

So today I broke down and bought the first Harry Potter book. I haven't touched it yet, because I got busy this evening (that's a whole 'nother post unto itself), but I might tomorrow. I've decided to open myself up to Potter-mania.

It had better be worth it.