Charlie and the Factory of Scary Pictures and Bad Choices

They say that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. This nightmare-inducting thing is the ultimate validation of that statement.


 I’m sorry I made you look at that.

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Seven Years Ago, It Ended

 Harry Potter 7

Exactly seven years ago, Sara and I were spending a night at our Uncle Earl and Aunt Jennifer’s. The reason I remember that is because I sat up until midnight in the top bunk of my cousin’s bed. When the clock struck twelve, I knew that thousands and thousands of people—many in costume—were at the city’s Barnes and Noble, madly grabbing for a yellow book that depicted a certain teenage wizard raised a hand to the sky. I was eleven years old. Even at eleven, I knew how significant this night was. At eleven, I was so jealous of those people that I briefly considered breaking out of the house to go to the bookstore.

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A Message for the Potterheads

In English 241 (which I refer to as “Lord of the Rings class” or “loosely-graded book club”) we’ve long finished LotR and moved through T.H. White’s long and frankly strange work The Once and Future King, a tale of King Arthur. On Thursday, we started the third leg of the class, the one that everyone had been waiting for, the big finale: Harry Potter.

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