Several years ago when I read the first Harry Potter book, The Sorcerer’s Stone, I was entertained. It was cute. It was good. It was a sermon topic for every pastor in America to rant against. But over the course of this summer I have been tearing through the series (and a good many other books) and I expect to finish the entire seven books sometime this winter. I have thought about pumping the brakes a little however, because it saddens me to think that when I close the cover on number seven, it is all over.
Well, I just finished Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and I am simply blown away. Part two in the series got a little more involved “storywise” than did the first book. Part three had an ending I thought could not be topped. But the fourth book took me to a place only the “special” books have ever done. This is one of those books where you slip right through the pages and out of time. You actually slow down to read it. You focus all of your attention upon it and insist that the words come more slowly so as not to miss a thing.
The storyline in this is pure artistry. The characters are amazing. The situations are heavy and the suspense is almost unbearable. All the things you could want in a phenomenal novel. I am simply amazed at Rowling’s talent. I cannot even describe the superiority of her ability to manipulate and bend the English language to her will as an author. This book affected me!
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