browser life

Thus begins the most anticipated work of young adult fiction in my lifetime. And because I never matured behavior-wise beyond the age of 12, I naturally have acquired a copy of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" for myself. But from what I've seen in the media, I am not the only childless woman in her 40's to have done so, which should serve as an indication of just how this story transcends the age of its audience.

No, I did not purchase my volume at midnight Friday night/Saturday morning with the masses, although I would have liked to because I enjoy striking up conversations with strangers (I've camped out for many a concert and went to a really colorful Ann Rice book signing once). Unfortunately, I can no longer tolerate standing in long lines, so I did the responsible thing and did not badger Dan to take me to the local bookstore until yesterday afternoon. I was able to walk right in and snag a copy immediately, and although the cashier line was long, it was not inordinately so.

Perhaps I should be embarrassed to admit it, but I was actually giddy to have acquired the book, as giddy as when I watched the opening sequences of "Return of the King", or when I first saw the coastline of Hawaii from an airplane window. But like the other experiences, there was also a sobering thought at the back of my mind, that this would be the last of a particular journey. And so, as excited as I am and as much as I want to pounce upon the book and devour ever word immediately, I am attempting to force myself to back off somewhat and savor the experience.

Therefore, unlike nearly everyone I've seen interviewed who has the final Harry Potter volume, I am not going to have it finished up by sunrise tomorrow, although resisting the temptation is surprisingly difficult. I'm trying to treat the book as though it were the last bar of dark chocolate I would ever eat: one bite at a time, allowing each to melt in my mouth, putting the remainder away for another day even though I hunger for more. I have managed to read only three chapters so far, with as much concentration as my dysfunctional brain can muster, no jumping ahead, focusing instead on each individual paragraph, and marveling at how the author's skill has improved with each successive book.

I realize, of course, that the longer I take to read the book, the more likely I will encounter spoilers before I have finished. I intend to avoid reading anything about Harry Potter on the internet, knowing that the ending has already been revealed on some sites, probably now more than a few sites. So I will try my best to do the virtual equivalent of clapping my hands over my ears and shouting "LA LA LA LA LA!"

You know those kids who ransack the house before their birthday or Christmas, hoping to find where their parents have hidden their gifts? I never did that, not once. When I decide I want to be surprised about something, I really do want to be surprised.

But I do speculate. Right after I finished reading "The Half Blood Prince" the first time, a friend and I formed our theories about what would happen in the final book, who would perish and who would survive. And it appears already that I am dead on as to one of my theories, although I will need to read Chapter 4 to be sure.

In a life like mine, where the exciting adventures have become fewer and fewer because of my health and finances, I am really enjoying this ride.

Even if this is the last one.