Reader's Corner: A Fan's Retrospective Review of "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone"

Published in The Badger, Arts Section, ed. Lily Rae
Word Count: 534
Date of Publication: November 2010

Unlike a lot of people my age, I approached the Harry Potter series as a fresh canvas, unaware of the phenomenon that was creeping over Britain like a slow but welcome disease. Characteristically enough it hadn't reached Ireland yet, so as I fumbled through my younger brother's Christmas presents as a ten year old miscreant, I wasn't quite sure what I was looking for. I wasn't even sure what I was looking at when I thumbed the pages of the unloved book and ran a finger down the uncreased spine of JK Rowling's 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone'. I'd love to say it was a revelation, but I'm pretty sure I put it back as quickly as I'd picked it up. It wasn't until about a year later when I was struck down with another drastic case of the pseudo-flu that I actually gave the book a shot. And the cheesy thing to say is always the appropriate; that from there it was like magic.

As an adult re-reading this now, I can admit that yes, things are simple here, but that's no bad thing. This novel may be lacking in the touch of Cormac McCarthty Rowling toys with in the latter darker and more young adult books in the series but there is still time for the crises of faith and friendship; the teenage angst of Order of the Phoenix, the horror of Fenrir Greyback, who at least for me still haunts my dreams; even for the romance. That all comes later. What we have here is basic but at times, startlingly beautiful. We have the magic. We have a world previously alien to us being revealed slowly before our eyes like tantalising dark chocolate; Quiddich, Butterbeer, Diagon Alley, Wizards for God's sake, Hogwarts! This is the beginning.

Despite the simplicity of the language and the child friendly plot, you'd be foolish to think that’s all the book had to offer. The Philosopher's Stone, for example, boasts my favourite scene in any Harry Potter book, and the one I still find most painful to revisit. Eleven year old Harry sat on the floor in front of the enchanted Mirror of Erised watching himself being embraced by the smiling faces of his dead parents, Lily and James Potter. I think there were a lot of tears and a lexical gap, because words don't do justice to what this scene did to me at eleven, and what it still does to me at twenty two.

And that's just one one isolated pearl from what has remained one of my favourite childhood books. In a world where 'muggles' and 'quiddich' are commonplace, even to those who have not seen a film, or read a single Harry Potter book, it is perhaps hard to imagine the feeling of reading it for the first time. In fact, in many ways I'm jealous of those who will leave their prejudices at the door , pick this beauty up and get to know these wonderful characters like they are your closest friends. I for one, would love to do it all over again.