I’m kind of glad that the Harry Potter thing is over.
Now, kids can go back to having a personal relationship with their favorite books, instead of seeing them blathered about in Entertainment Weekly, made into Chris Columbus movies, overmarketed, overhyped and overexposed.
Part of what I loved about my favorite books, was that I seemed to be the only one that read them. I was always trying to get people to read them, but it rarely worked. It was an internal thing, between me and Pinkwater or me and Lloyd Alexander. The books were a secret from my friends and my parents. Alan Mendelsohn was my secret alien friend, not theirs.
Plus, I didn’t have to race anybody to read them so that I could brag about how quickly I finished them.
Filed under: kidlit
