During July and August I found myself getting through my unpleasant days by aiming my expectations at evening, when I wouldĭrag my hardware-encumbered leg into the kitchen, eat fresh fruit and ice cream and read about Harry Potter's adventures at Hogwarts, a school for young wizards (motto: ''Never tickle a sleeping dragon'').įor that reason, I awaited this summer's installment in J. Potters (and the superb detective novels of Dennis Lehane) became a kind of lifeline for me. In the miserably hot summer of '99, the Harry I read Potters 2 and 3 (''Chamber of Secrets,'' ''Prisoner of Azkaban'') and found myself a lot more than moderately wowed. Two months later I was involved in a serious road accident that necessitated a long and painful period of recuperation. But in April 1999 I was pretty much all right. Read the first novel in the Harry Potter series, ''Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone,'' in April 1999 and was only moderately Rowling's fantastically successful series about a young wizard.
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