I did not expect much for the eighth Harry Potter book. For one, it was a play writing; for another, J.K.Rowling was merely a co-author.
Yet, slowly, I got drawn into it. The familiar scene, continuing from the last chapter of the seventh book, gave me an illusion that the story had never stopped from there. As a play, it was even easier to read than the seven children’s books. And, better than the authentic ones, this one doesn’t have a bitter beginning.
It is not without drawbacks. There were places that I didn’t feel describing clearly. I had to re-read to find how did something happened. And for some, I still don’t know. There were even points I doubted the plot itself. Was this meaningless? Wouldn’t it be better if none of the story happened?
But, hell, it is a good story! It gave me enough suspense to keep me from putting it down. It was creative. It even had a surprise approaching the end, not as good as J.K.Rowling’s big story turning surprises though. What is very great about the story is that it kept giving me a touch in the heart, giving me hope. It has its characters as alive as I see them myself. And the characters from the old stories were not just true to the old stories, but had grown with the new developments. Reading the book, I saw human nature, the bright side.
Now I want to fly to London to see the show for myself.
