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 the 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. 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 they are a comfort, and feel like family.
I still remember the agony of being in a little country where books come out long after their release in bigger countries (America, the UK, Australia). Luckily I'm pretty sure this came out only a day after the original release, but that was plenty of time for spoilers to come out, making school on the day before a harrowing experience, hiding from those cruel people determined to ruin the book. I found out the ending. The book was not ruined.
When this book finally did come out, I waited in line at the bookshop for hours, and, once I had my hands on my (pre-ordered) copy, proceeded to sit at home undisturbed for six hours as I inhaled every word with both laughter and tears.
They may not technically be the best books I have ever read, but - for me - as a reading experience they are truly unparalleled.