Harry Potter and the Mission to Tesco

I read the final Harry Potter installment on Saturday, publication day.

Having managed to avoid all potential spoilers and plot-hints for the past couple of weeks, it was vital that I managed to read the book without any outside interference ruining the event. I've had a good reading experience wrecked for by spoilers a few times before (one case I clearly remember was Iain M. Banks' Use of Weapons) and it's always been dreadfully disappointing. And as I've thoroughly enjoyed the entire Harry Potter series so far - and have invested dozens of hours of precious reading time in getting to the final episode - the last thing I wanted was to end up reading the entire book subconsciously waiting for such-and-such to occur, rather than reading the book as J.K. Rowling presumably intended it to be read.

I therefore formulated and enacted the following minimal human interaction purchasing plan: Out of bed 06.40. Arrive Tesco 07.00. MP3 player on, something suitably raucous - Oasis as it happens - to drown out any possibility of over-hearing some evil bastard of a career shelf-stacker with a grudge against people who can actually read discussing the denouement with his mates just inside the entrance... Enter store. Work out where they've stashed the Potters. Grab a copy of The Book. Head for self-service checkout...

[So far so good. Sticky moment here when Tesco's checkout programming threatened to thwart my carefully laid scheme and a member of staff has to come over and press the right buttons for me. Luckily she didn't say a word about the book. I'm very glad, for both our sakes, as bludgeoning her to death with the new Harry Potter could quite possibly have led to an unacceptable reading-schedule delay due to police interference.]

Right then, purchase complete, mission accomplished. Head for home. Kettle on, large mug of tea and packet of biscuits to hand. Lie back on the sofa, and begin to read...

Okay, why all the rigmarole? Easy: I'm pathologically allergic to spoilers. Paul Raven wondered the other day whether a book that's susceptible to spoilerage is worth reading in the first place, so I'll explain how this unfortunate condition affects me, personally: Well, actually, an allergy to spoilers is probably the wrong way of putting it; I think it's more to do with my having an addiction instead; an addiction to the anticipation of the unknown, to the satisfaction that's gained from the gradual unfolding of narrative events and the corresponding thrill of the moment of eventual revelation.

The way I see it, if an author has crafted a novel so that the plot unfolds in a particular sequence of events, with a specific effect in mind, then it's only right that those events should be discovered by the reader in the sequence that the author intended, wouldn't you say?

Knowing that a particular event is going to happen at some point in the novel - or even the nebulous hint or possibility that something specific might occur - can actually change the way you experience the book, sometimes dramatically, often detrimentally. It can also lessen the impact of other key scenes by drawing the focus of your attention away from them ("Oh, so that's not the bit where so-and-so happens, then..."), and of course, at a very basic level and if the plot element is a key one, it simply ruins the surprise ("Oh, yeah, there it is. Ho, hum...")

I think that it's primarily a question of maintaining the element of mystery. I don't necessarily mean that as in 'whodunnit?', but in a very essential, psychological sense. As Jung said: "Before mystery one retains a certain awe along with the yearning to explore and comprehend." And if that isn't the essence of a good reading experience, then I don't know what is.

So, that's why I hate spoilers. Not because they lessen the intrinsic quality of the book, but because they take away some of the narrative mystery, and in doing so they lessen the power and quality of the reading experience. And I have so little reading time these days that I feel I have to do whatever I can to ensure that everything I read offers the highest quality reading experience possible. Even getting up at 6.40 on a Saturday morning and then reading for eight and a half hours straight, if that's what it takes.

Anyhow, what did I think of the book?

Thoroughly enjoyed this one, too.

No, it's not a work of supreme literary genius. No - as James at Big Dumb Object pointed out - it wasn't perfect in every respect. But you know what? It was 600 pages of bloody good children's / young adult story-telling and it offered a very satisfying conclusion to the series. And given all the hype and the pressure and the sheer weight of expectation on J.K. Rowling's shoulders, then what more could we have possibly asked for? And personally, I can honestly say that I was perfectly happy to turn that last page, finally knowing how it all turned out, and safe in the knowledge that I'd finished the narrative journey in the manner in which J.K. Rowling intended it to be experienced.

Yes, Saturday was a pretty good day. Sunday, I had double chores... :(