Musings of a Bibliophile

This is less a review, and more a sort of miniature memoir of my Harry Potter experience. Gushy emotions and etc follow, so feel free to skip this review with no more than my recommendation that if you have not read this series you should do so immediately.

Every so often when I'm sick in bed; a little depressed; or just generally cold and want nothing more than to snuggle up with blankets and forget the world for a few days, I go on a Harry Potter marathon. I read every single one of the books - in order - over the course of around two days (I've read them so often that I can devour them in almost a single go now) followed by as many of the films as I can fit into the time I have left, before I'm forced back into reality.

I am one of the Harry Potter generation. I was four when this first book was published, fourteen when the series concluded, and around the same age as the characters in the films when they eventually came out. I still remember my mother insisting that I was too young to read this (at the age of 5) and hiding it under the sofa cushions so I could read in secret anyway.

It's a series that I grew up with, and as such, cannot comment on its literary merits without bias. All I know is that these books are a comfort, and feel almost like family. They may not technically be the best books I have ever read, but for a reading experience they are truly unparalleled.