On Harry Potter

AKA what I am reading right now.

Welcome to this week’s post, in which you will read about my guilty pleasure, which is re-reading the Harry Potter series in a completely non-sensical order. On Friday, paid subscribers will receive my general recipe for chicken skillets, which I make on a weekly basis.

On a near-yearly basis, I re-read the Harry Potter series. I almost never start with the first book (it usually goes 5, 6, 7, 1, 2, 4, 3; don’t ask). I skim over the parts that I know by heart. And I often have to set a timer so that I don’t sit down and read them in one sitting, neglecting work, my husband, and the cats. These books, to me, are like a compulsion—once I pick them up, I find it difficult to put them back down.

Me, consuming these books.

My re-reading habit started during my first fall in the workplace. The weather was changing, friends were returning to school, and all of the sudden, I found myself deeply shaken: who was I, if I was not a student? Was my new identity just that of a corporate worker, for whom the seasons blended together meaninglessly? I don’t know how or why, but I do know that I picked up the first Harry Potter, somewhat mournfully, and found that sinking back into that world made me feel better. Since that time, through many jobs and seasons, I have faithfully returned to Hogwarts whenever things get sad or dark or tough. In other words, most falls as the weather changes.¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It will shock probably none of you to hear that I used to feel guilty about this tradition. I told myself that I should be spending time instead on new books, preferably non-fiction, to educate myself, make myself into a more interesting person, etc., etc. But the truth is, there’s something so inherently comforting in the pages of the Harry Potter series that I don’t really care anymore. It’s like the socially acceptable (ish?) adult version of a security blanket: reading these books makes me feel safe. In this day and age, reading Harry Potter is one of the least problematic ways to deal with that, so there it is. @ me or not! I am an adult, re-reading a childhood book series. So there.

Back when I read the books for the first time, often shoehorned into the couch with my cousin, Katie, I was there to be immersed. I lived to be in that world, some part of me believing it was real long after I should have. We read the companion books, pored over every volume for clues as to the ending, and stayed up until the final book was in our hands. We lived it, breathed it, dreamt it. We were there, and in it!

My most-read and most-beloved books.

As I’m re-reading them this year, I’ve caught myself getting misty-eyed and more sentimental than usual. When I flip open those well-worn books, I sink into the nostalgia and wrap it tightly around myself like the aforementioned security blanket. It’s a reward at the end of a workday, the low-calorie version of my nightly little chocolate treat. It’s the bookworm equivalent of eating dessert before dinner, but in this case, dinner is the giant stack of overdue library books teetering on the radiator. But it’s also a chance to go back in time and live my obsession over again, watching the movies in my grandpa’s camper and spending family trips racing through books side by side.

I’ll get to my other books at some point, and I’ll send a note soon with some highlights from the past few months. But for now, I’m off to read a few more chapters of The Half-Blood Prince before bed.

See you back here on Friday! Can’t wait to be a vegetarian giving instructions on how to cook meat.