I have an admission to make. I read Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I’ve read the four other books too. I enjoyed all of them. I am no ashamed. I’m a little by all the rancor over adults liking the books. They’re books. Yes, they’re written simply, but the story is a lot of fun, and the characters are very engaging. What’s wrong with enjoying that? Simple stories well told are nothing to be ashamed of enjoying. Why do you think people like Star Wars and The Wizard of Oz? There’s nothing terribly complex or hard to understand in either story, yet they’re considered classics.
Now that I’m done defending my appreciation for the series… let’s talk about the latest one. It’s dark. It’s pretty depressing, especially for a “children’s book”. One of my favorite things about the books is that they’re written for the age group equivalent to Harry’s age in the book. The author did a great job capturing the failings of fifteen year-old boys perfectly. Harry was uncouth, akward and everything else boys are at that age – trying to be manly while still being childish, exploring their limits and rebelling against authority (although that’s been a theme throughout the series). As I was reading this one, I kept thinking to myself that Ms. Rowling should just leave the poor kid alone for a chapter. Let something good happen to him. This book is obviously the ominous third act in the series.
I enjoyed it though. Even though I kind of got tired in the third quarter of the book with all the things that happened to Harry, I kept going because the pace of the writing demanded it. It was a great ride… and better written than most “thrillers in paperback” on the market. It’s nothing to be ashamed of if you liked the books. They’re good stories. I wish there were more good stories out there.