So SarahScott, Nick Ferraro and I all went down to the Bethesda Barnes and Noble tonight to go Pottering. Harry Pottering, that is – Nick had reserved a copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and while SSB and I had hoped to pick up copies of our own, our efforts were foiled do to their entire allotment having been sold to the preorderers. Which means tomorrow I may well go hunting at the Targets and such things around the area, looking for a copy of my own. We shall see if I am successful. One hopes. If not, I am sure I will have plenty more chances to find one.

But, oh, it was wonderful. Kids in costumes, adults in costumes, all in full party mode celebrating the worldwide release of a book. I mentioned to SSB in passing, "I wonder if this was what it was like on the docks when Charles Dickens' serialized novels came in?" The only other events in recent history that I can think of that generated this degree of excitement were Star Wars: Episode II and The Lord of the Rings, and, well, let's take note of something here. Each of these works are "genre" works. They're fantasies, works that are enjoyable more or less by all ages, made millions of dollars and aren't literary in the least. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, O "literary" ones. A good, entertaining story with a quick plot and endearing characters will trump your stodgy, plodding "art" any day of the week with the populace.

I can't wait to get my own copy. Maybe I can pilfer Nick's while he's sleeping. :)