Let the Harry Potter games begin. J.K. Rowling's newest book will hit the shleves and the mailboxes on Saturday. I love HP and the gang because they completely take us out of our world and into another. There will be a party at every children's department in every bookstore worth its salt this weekend and in Novemeber we'll get to see another HP movie. Despite my admiration of Rowling and my general enjoyment of the hoopla I have a dirty little secret about the HP books.
Gulp. I keep ordering the books from Amazon and loaning them to my friends and grandchildren, but I quit reading them a long time ago. They're imaginitive and clever and they allude to classic tales and characters but honestly, they just don't hold my attention. Don't know why. I've read everything from Janet Evonovitch to Victor Hugo but I can't read an entire Harry Potter book.
Maybe I'll give it one more try so that I can cry at the demise of Harry's Godfather with my daughters and stay on speaking terms with my oldest grandchild. Maybe I'll read Les Miserables again instead.
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