the end

Every time a book I am really enjoying ends, I feel that I should have read a little slower. That way it would have lasted a little longer. I had finished the Harry Potter series a year back. And now, when I have seen the last movie too, it has actually ended.

The last book was certainly not the best of the series. And the last movie is certainly not better than the book itself. Of course there are practical constraints in adapting a book into a movie. In a book, there are no limits to the number of pages that you can write. But in a movie, there is certainly a limit to the length to which you can stretch it.

But, one must just pause for a few moments and reflect upon the parallel universe that the author had so easily created in her books. A universe that the readers had no difficulty in relating to. She picked up a Dickens-ish orphan who was ill-treated by his relations, put him into a Blyton-ish boarding school, wove magic around the world, put in suspense and we had creations that were close to being thrillers. All are recipes that have enthralled readers for centuries now.

I must stand up and salute the creator. And if I was in the habit of wearing hats, I would certainly have taken it off to her.