When Harry met . . . everybody.

As I am most likely going to be among the last people on the planet to read the final Harry Potter book, I find it apt to be most likely among the last to write about it. I've actually never read any of the books, and I suspect that I will possibly never will. Not out of any sort of animosity, but considering I haven't begun, I find the prospect of reading what amounts to a stack of books that could easily replace an entire table leg to be a somewhat formidable undertaking.

One quick note:
This isn't going to be a post about the books themselves, so no need to worry about spoilers.

What struck me today is the sheer magnitude of the following of the Harry Potter series. It's hold on the world appears to be as magically powerful as the hero-wizard himself. I heard stories of the Chinese rushing to get a counterfeit translated version out two weeks prior to the actual release of the Chinese translation (apparently translation is a big undertaking, as there is no easy way to translate words such as "Hogwarts," "Muggles," and "Quidditch"). In the States, there were armed guards outside what was essentially a fortress holding Amazon.com's stock of the book where the volumes were counted regularly to make sure there were no unauthorized copies leaving the area.

From the day of its release, I've seen the latest Harry Potter book in the hands of nearly every reader on the subway. Meanwhile, I am reading David Sedaris' Dress Your Family in Jeans and Corduroy, a much more digestible 200+pages in large print. I'm fairly certain after refusing a bum on the street spare change, he sat down, put on his spectacles and continued to read Harry Potter.

In some ways the book seems so prolific that I feel some sort of obligation to be reading it alongside the 49 other people in my subway car. As if somehow I am alienating myself from the rest of the reading community. And by not reading it, I am sacrificing my right to be a member of developed world. I will be shunned from society as the one who rebelled, who did not partake in what is one of the most popular series of books since--well, ever, it seems. People will point and stare: "That's him. That's the guy that hasn't read it," they'll say. And then they'll throw one of the heavy, hard-back volumes at me (but quickly retrieve it, because they value it so much that they will not allow it to be defiled by being held by a non-Potter-reader). I'll be like that stubborn uncle who refuses to have a cell-phone, or sign up for internet out of "principle" although in reality it is without rhyme or reason... but I'm not that guy. I don't want to be a rebel. I've got so little time left in this world and it's just too many damn pages.

In the end, I'll probably avoid talking about it until I see the film version comes out. After that I can pretend I read it, and rejoin society. Only I, and my small band of readers will know . . . and hopefully, you will all still be my friends.