I was 9 years old when my teacher walked up to me and placed
a book upside down on my desk. He knelt down and said: “Of all the children in
this class, you are the one I think who will love this the most.” He walked
away and I turned the book over, revealing a huge red train with steam
billowing from the top, and stars flying through the smoke. In front of the
train, there stood a young boy with big, round glasses looking shocked, and
confused. Above the image, and on a red background, were gold and white letters
that spelt “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone”.
I say this without having had to look at the book because I
remember that image so clearly in my mind. I remember going home and reading
the book so excitedly and being thrust into a world of new characters, new
places and magic. It wasn’t long until stood with that same teacher discussing it
on the playground whilst all the other children were playing.
One of the reasons Harry Potter spoke to me was its strong presence
of the outcast. As a camp kid growing up in a mining town, there weren’t many
people like me. But there also weren’t many people inside of school that valued
culture. I was a kid that loved to read, I loved black and white films and
Bobby Darin. I often hid those things from people because they made me
different, and being different is so taboo in school. But then along came these books that
celebrated celebrating yourself; being completely okay with who you are. Not to
sound cliché, but I think it’s why I am so comfortable with myself today.
Harry Potter was also present for so many monumental times
in my life. I remember exactly what page of Harry Potter and the Chamber of
Secrets I was reading when I was told my nana had died; I remember sitting down
to watch the final film when I was preparing for my first real relationship to
end. It’s so strange to me that at the age of 20 I feel nostalgic when I think
of these novels and these films, but so far they have been present for most of
my life.
I’m now 20 years old, and some of the best conversations I
have with my friends are discussing those storylines and those characters. The
tragic love story of Snape; the Hitler-like malevolence of Dolores Umbridge;
SPEW; the battles and the losses. I’ve had ten years of waiting to find out who
has been cast in what role; and wondering which scenes will make it to the
movies; and how will they be shown to us? I’ve been able to follow three people
(that are older than me which makes this all the more strange) and watch them
mature and age and go onto other roles.
I will realistically never meet Joanne Rowling. This is both
upsetting to me, and so relieving. It’s so upsetting for me because I will
never get to thank the woman who gave me my childhood, and helped make me who I
am today. It’s so relieving because, well: how do you thank the woman who gave
you your childhood and made you who you are?
I remember being around 14 and someone saying “I can’t wait
for those bloody books to end so you can’t grow out of them!” Well, good sir. I
am now 20 years old, and have no plans to ‘grow out of them’. Well, both the
book and film series have ended now, so I guess this should be the time that I
grow out of them. But I won’t. I will read these books ‘til I am blind. I will
read these books to my kids, and to their kids. Because like J.K. Rowling said:
“Hogwarts will always
be there, to welcome you home.”
No comments:
Post a Comment