The schoolboy wizard

Harry Potter has shot to fame in our family. For years he was barely acknowledged. Gabe was given one of the novels for a present two or so years ago, but wouldn’t read it as a memory of scary scenes in a film seen with cousins when he was about six deterred him. Then lacking anything to read, and refusing to borrow from the library, he tested it and was hooked. Then came the films, drawing in Eliza and Robin to the cult. To begin with, Robin had trouble following the films and complained there was too much talking and not enough fighting. But he watched the films to and from Scotland in the car, as well as catching a couple of the series while staying with grandparents in St Andrews.

Gabe, meanwhile, is eating up the books, revelling in their lengthening as the series progresses. He reads the books while watching television, in the car and wanted me to read to him while he showered. Eliza, too, has tried reading one of the books, but not yet had the staying power for a whole novel.

A third cultural manifestation of Harry Potter emerged during our holiday in Scotland. In our caravan, but most intensively, under a tree in a field beside Grandma and Grandpa’s house, Eliza and Robin have developed a magic game, based upon HP. Robin plays a number of characters, including Harry. Eliza is also one of the characters and seems to drive the narrative, played out under the tree, and on a fallen branch through long grass.

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