Les Enfants du Paradis (the post about Harry Potter)
Working the event, the book itself (Spoilers inside), what the book means, all under the cut... this one... right here
Item the 1st, the day
We had a massive costume sign up sheet for the event, I think overall we had close to 20 volunteers. My original choice was my homeboy Malfoy Jr., unfortunatley someone beat me to him. After that, I figured to go with the baddest muthafucker in the series, Severus Snape. A few days later I relized that Snape just wouldn't be that fun to go as. All black, I'd have to dye my hair a jet shade of greasy, and just kinda slink in the shadows all night. Then I remembered that once upon a time I had a favorite character in the series, the great godfather of DADA, Gilderoy Lockhart. I had less reservations about dying my hair blonde than black, and figured that showing up blinged out was right up my alley. The costume ended up being more of a bitch than I planned on it being. So the day of the event hits, I figure I can use some new dress clothes so I picked up a new pair of dress pants and a black dress shirt. I rented a cloak from a costume shop in Toms River that nicely completed the ensemble. Too bad my timing was off all day. I set my alarm to go off around 10-ish in the AM(had to be at the event at 6pm). Someone sent me a text message around 6:30 in the morning. My head registered noise and assumed it to be the alarm. Knowing that I had only slept a few hours, I talked myself into getting a few more hours of sleep. At this rate I figured that I'd be waking up around, 5pm and show up massivley late. Eventually the sun woke me up before my actual alarm went off, and I spent the whole day a few hours off. Considering my normal schedule is 8am until 4pm, and working until question marks, this really set some havoc loose on my body clock.
Item the 2nd, the event.
So I show up decked out the black, our Hermione of the evening was kind enough to bring in some hogwarts school neck ties (a few from each house). I snagged a Slytherin one, procured a cool loooking staff that was just laying around and put it all together for a pretty cool "Draco." The guy who oringally wanted to be Draco ended up using his vacation time, funny how things turn out. I ended up working the event area all night, which was Hogwarts Summer school (trivia), Hedwig Hot Potato (using plush owls), and the costume contest. After that was register duty. I can't say exactly how many people I rung up that night, suffice to say that "shitload" would be a euphamism. Really, only one thing could've made the night better.
Item the 3rd... holy shit! All this over a book?
Looking back at the time before the book came out, I was involved in some pretty stupid conversations about it. One of which being "does Rowling have the sack the kill off Harry?"
The question became a non-point after I finished the book when I relized it wasn't about Rowling having the stones to go with the unhappy ending, it came down to the fact that Rowling has grown immensely as a writer. I guess being friends with names like King, Irving, and Rushdie had a hand in that. More than that, Rowling showed something that very few writers have to their works, commitment to the world. She was involved in Harry's world in ways that would make writers like Tolkein and Lewis proud. There's an article in Entertainment Weekly that mentions that writers of that calibur don't kill off characters known as "The Boy Who Lived."
The Boy Who Lived could've been the title of the series, more than anything, Harry lived. It wasn't surviving his shitstorm, he lived the life that was dealt to him. In acknowledging the boy who lived, we also need to take a moment of silence for those who weren't so lucky. Excuse me while I pour one out for my home-wolf, Lupin.
The body count in Deathly Hallows raised an interesting point, can you call HP7 a kids book? Well, consider this. Assume the average HP reader when Philosopher's Stone came out was 8 years old. The 8 year old who saw Harry almost swallow his first snitch is now 18 and had to sit through some heavy handed killing. I hate to use the pun, part of the book's magic was how the series, the readers, and Harry all grew up together. Anyone who made the journey with Harry would have relized (at the end of book 6) that not everyone is gonna make out.
Which brings me to the epilogue. It seems the world is split down the middle of this one. Ok, Voldemort bit it, the series could've ended there. Rowling took it upon herself to say "and they all lived happily ever after." Well, Harry did. He's the boy who lived, after all. But what about Teddy Lupin, or George Weasly (lost an ear, then his literal other half)? I used to think good stories weren't about living happily ever after, just about living. I agree with Stephen King that characters live on after we turn the final page, and Rowling could've had just a powerful ending without nineteen (see, she is friends with King) years later. Then again, I didn't write the books, I'm not in any real place to say how Rowling should've done things.
I'm eternally grateful that I made the journey. I'll never forget reading Sorecerer's Stone in one shot while I was bedridden with a stomach virus. I like knowing that one of my best friends is a real life Hermione. I like knowing that Jo Rowling is gonna continue writing. I get a stupidly warm feeling in my stomach thinking to later in my life. I've got this visual of my (one day to exist) kid sick in bed, and staying up with them. I'll reach for a tattered blue mass market and say, possibly with a tear in my eye, "Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived."
Item the 1st, the day
We had a massive costume sign up sheet for the event, I think overall we had close to 20 volunteers. My original choice was my homeboy Malfoy Jr., unfortunatley someone beat me to him. After that, I figured to go with the baddest muthafucker in the series, Severus Snape. A few days later I relized that Snape just wouldn't be that fun to go as. All black, I'd have to dye my hair a jet shade of greasy, and just kinda slink in the shadows all night. Then I remembered that once upon a time I had a favorite character in the series, the great godfather of DADA, Gilderoy Lockhart. I had less reservations about dying my hair blonde than black, and figured that showing up blinged out was right up my alley. The costume ended up being more of a bitch than I planned on it being. So the day of the event hits, I figure I can use some new dress clothes so I picked up a new pair of dress pants and a black dress shirt. I rented a cloak from a costume shop in Toms River that nicely completed the ensemble. Too bad my timing was off all day. I set my alarm to go off around 10-ish in the AM(had to be at the event at 6pm). Someone sent me a text message around 6:30 in the morning. My head registered noise and assumed it to be the alarm. Knowing that I had only slept a few hours, I talked myself into getting a few more hours of sleep. At this rate I figured that I'd be waking up around, 5pm and show up massivley late. Eventually the sun woke me up before my actual alarm went off, and I spent the whole day a few hours off. Considering my normal schedule is 8am until 4pm, and working until question marks, this really set some havoc loose on my body clock.
Item the 2nd, the event.
So I show up decked out the black, our Hermione of the evening was kind enough to bring in some hogwarts school neck ties (a few from each house). I snagged a Slytherin one, procured a cool loooking staff that was just laying around and put it all together for a pretty cool "Draco." The guy who oringally wanted to be Draco ended up using his vacation time, funny how things turn out. I ended up working the event area all night, which was Hogwarts Summer school (trivia), Hedwig Hot Potato (using plush owls), and the costume contest. After that was register duty. I can't say exactly how many people I rung up that night, suffice to say that "shitload" would be a euphamism. Really, only one thing could've made the night better.
Item the 3rd... holy shit! All this over a book?
Looking back at the time before the book came out, I was involved in some pretty stupid conversations about it. One of which being "does Rowling have the sack the kill off Harry?"
The question became a non-point after I finished the book when I relized it wasn't about Rowling having the stones to go with the unhappy ending, it came down to the fact that Rowling has grown immensely as a writer. I guess being friends with names like King, Irving, and Rushdie had a hand in that. More than that, Rowling showed something that very few writers have to their works, commitment to the world. She was involved in Harry's world in ways that would make writers like Tolkein and Lewis proud. There's an article in Entertainment Weekly that mentions that writers of that calibur don't kill off characters known as "The Boy Who Lived."
The Boy Who Lived could've been the title of the series, more than anything, Harry lived. It wasn't surviving his shitstorm, he lived the life that was dealt to him. In acknowledging the boy who lived, we also need to take a moment of silence for those who weren't so lucky. Excuse me while I pour one out for my home-wolf, Lupin.
The body count in Deathly Hallows raised an interesting point, can you call HP7 a kids book? Well, consider this. Assume the average HP reader when Philosopher's Stone came out was 8 years old. The 8 year old who saw Harry almost swallow his first snitch is now 18 and had to sit through some heavy handed killing. I hate to use the pun, part of the book's magic was how the series, the readers, and Harry all grew up together. Anyone who made the journey with Harry would have relized (at the end of book 6) that not everyone is gonna make out.
Which brings me to the epilogue. It seems the world is split down the middle of this one. Ok, Voldemort bit it, the series could've ended there. Rowling took it upon herself to say "and they all lived happily ever after." Well, Harry did. He's the boy who lived, after all. But what about Teddy Lupin, or George Weasly (lost an ear, then his literal other half)? I used to think good stories weren't about living happily ever after, just about living. I agree with Stephen King that characters live on after we turn the final page, and Rowling could've had just a powerful ending without nineteen (see, she is friends with King) years later. Then again, I didn't write the books, I'm not in any real place to say how Rowling should've done things.
I'm eternally grateful that I made the journey. I'll never forget reading Sorecerer's Stone in one shot while I was bedridden with a stomach virus. I like knowing that one of my best friends is a real life Hermione. I like knowing that Jo Rowling is gonna continue writing. I get a stupidly warm feeling in my stomach thinking to later in my life. I've got this visual of my (one day to exist) kid sick in bed, and staying up with them. I'll reach for a tattered blue mass market and say, possibly with a tear in my eye, "Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived."