Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
by J.K. Rowling

So here is my back story with the Harry Potter books: I started late. Book five was only a few months away when I was finally bullied into picking up book one. I tore through them in a matter of weeks and then waited anxiously for my pre-ordered copy of Order of the Phoenix to arrive. When it did, I decided that I’d best make it last, after all, who knew when the next one would be done. I’d never had to sit through that two year period of HP withdrawals before and I wasn’t looking forward to it at all. The “making it last” idea lasted for about 4 weeks. Quite frankly, I’m amazed that I managed to hold out that long. Book five turned out to be my favorite in the series and remains so now that the series is complete.

By the time Half Blood Prince rolled around, I’d moved on. My excitement over the series had pretty much died off in the time span between reading book five and the release of book 6. I went to the midnight sale with a bunch of my friends, more because it was a fun thing to do than because we were all foaming at the mouths for the next installment. Everyone finished the book that night or the following morning. I didn’t take mine out of the bag until two or three days later.

By the time I finished book 6, I was completely and thoroughly over Harry Potter. I disliked the book so much, that it destroyed much of my previous love for the series. In fact, by the time book 7 talk started rolling around, I’d already forgotten most of HBP.

My friends and I wound up at the midnight sale again this year, one of the group was working it, actually (poor thing didn’t get home until well after 4am), and with a bit of sneakiness, three of us had our copies by 12:30am. I read about 30 pages that first night, woke up with a massive headache, and couldn’t pick it up again until the next morning, by which time, everyone else was done.

I picked up the book again and immediately realized just how much of HBP I’d forgotten. I had to call someone up to find out what a Horcrux was.

Overall, I really enjoyed The Deathly Hallows, right up until I got to the epilogue.

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Picaresque
The Decemberists

A few weeks back, a friend of mine asked me if I liked The Decemberists. All I could remember of them was that once, probably over a year ago, I’d listened to a cover they’d done of Bjork’s Human Behavior and disliked it so much, that I’ve always had a very negative reaction to even hearing their name. I would see their albums in stores, specifically The Crane Wife and love the cover, rush to pick it up, and then be disappointed because I didn’t like them.

When I explained this to my friend, she made sad faces at me and I offered to give them another shot. It was only a cover after all. I’ve since listened to everything I could get my hands on. I love The Decemberists.

I chose to pimp Picaresque because my favorite track of theirs (We Both Go Down Together) happens to be on this CD, but I find all of their albums to be completely amazing. I love how the songs tell little stories, often based off folk lore. The Mariner’s Revenge is both a great song and DAMN funny to listen to. A lot of their work has this kind of epic feel to it - The Infanta is one that comes to mind as having this sort of impending awesomeness throughout, and of course, there’s always The Tain - a masterpiece based on a story from Irish mythology (Táin Bó Cúailnge) - it’s upwards of 18 minutes and not one second is a disappointment.

They may not be for everyone, but I highly recommend giving them a shot. You may be pleasantly surprised. I know I was.

The Kite Runner
by Khaled Hosseini

It’s very difficult for me to review books because I can honestly say I only remember ever reading two books that I did not like in my entire life. Of course, I can’t actually remember every book I’ve ever read, so I’m sure there must have been others, but none that hang in my memory. It’s been awhile since I’ve read something that had me captivated so quickly and so thoroughly. I started this book yesterday on my morning bus ride to work and finished it at 2:30am. Though I don’t recommend the sleepless delerium that followed, I believe it was well worth it.

The story is of Amir, the son of a wealthy businessman, Hassan, the son of the family servant, their friendship and the traumatic event and betrayal that tears them apart. The tale unravels over decades and continents, the innocence of childhood and the terrors of war, poverty, and despair.

I sort of marveled at the way Afghanistan was described in the early pieces of the book. We only ever hear of it in terms of war. I wonder how accurately described it was in those beginning chapters and how many of us know that it ever existed in such a state. The images Hosseini conjured with his description of this once beautiful place torn down to dust and sand was truly heartbreaking. The characters - the interweaving of their lives, their motivations, were so brilliantly developed and so clear, that I had to keep reminding myself that this was a work of fiction and not the author’s memoir.

I highly recommend this novel as a must read for anyone who can. It’s beautiful and tragic and utterly breath-taking.