'you don't have to love me...'

In the event you've been recently reincarnated or broken free from some cloistered banishment, let me catch you up on a little bit of news: The seventh and final book in the Harry Potter series - "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" - will be released at midnight Saturday!!

I add that extra exclamation point for the benefit of all those who've been quivering with anticipation for months about the culmination of 10 years of literary dominance this boy wizard has had on the world, and not because I'm a big fan of multiple punctuation marks. In *my* book, there is only the need for one thing in multiples. But now is not the time to drag things down to that level of thinking.

(Which, admittedly, is terribly hard for me, but even saying that has the potential to make me want to drag things down, and I only do that sporadically around here and more so when leaving my mark on the rest of you)

OK. Now it's time to share a little more news with you. A secret of such shame that I'm sure in the dark ages it would have resulted in my being burned alive at the stake or stoned to death. At the very least - and much less dramatic - maybe it would have prompted the immediate removal of my street cred as a bookseller:

I couldn't give a rip about Harry Potter.

Wow! It feels really good to type that. I can't say it to customers - some of whom have been genuinely weepy at the prospect of no new Harry Potter tomes after this week. Mostly I'm talking about the teenage boy who got all shaky when I reserved his copy for him and he admitted that his MySpace could be found by searching for "Wizard Lover," (In retrospect, I am hoping he was referring to his fondness for Harry Potter and not something else), and the countless women and men who have grown up reading these novels. Some genuinely want to read them. Others look as though they're succumbing to peer pressure. But all of them ask me if I can't wait until the seventh book is released. When asked, I can only smile and quietly cheer, "It's almost here!" so as not to engage them in battle at the risk of offending them. "We all have our opinions about them," I say.

I know. I know. If you enjoy the books because they've added to your already established love of reading, or if they've perhaps pulled you back into reading, then good on you. I truly can appreciate the power of a book to bring out the enthusiastic nature we all have about a character or a subject, and I am quite taken by the devotion to reading these books have had on children. Let me clarify two things:

• I love books - in fact, there are some I'd probably roll around naked in, I love them that much.
• I love reading - I was a moody teenager. Books were my survival. I've a long list of books I carry around with me when the opportunity to hunt down a title arises. Because I'm still moody.
  

However, I can't think of one book or series of books I've ever read where I've been so captured by the characters or the story that I've engaged in countdowns, plot outlines or played guessing games as to who may or may not die when the final page is turned.

(Perhaps I'm just too taken in by the imaginary love I feel rock stars have for me to give that much devotion to a fictional character. Let me push Michael Hutchence's hair out of my mouth and roll over to ask Bono what he thinks of my theory while trying not to wake up my 80s-era manifestations of Simon LeBon and John Taylor)

Before you raise your wands in an uproar, let me add that I have read the first four Potter books. In fact, I own the six released to date, and I had (have) grand plans to read them with my sons over the last year. But wow, life and whatnot! Really gets in the way! And dang if those books don't get longer!

I've not seen the various Harry Potter movies, either. I subscribe to the theory that the book is always better than the movie, and, well, what with my delays (i.e. "lack of interest"/"lack of commitment") in reading the books, you can see my quandary. Plus, dang if those movies aren't long!

I feel my confession to you comes justifiably. We've pimped this book for months, long before a title was ever released. It's been like getting ready for Christmas again immediately after you've put everything from this year's Christmas away. In preparing for Friday's grand celebrations preceding the official release time of 12:01 a.m Saturday, I've attended crowd control meetings and have had to sign lengthy "don't" lists that bar me from discussing the number of books we may have on hand, seeing the boxes within which the books are packaged, or touching the boxes in the event I accidentally stumble upon them (or perhaps not so accidentally with the aid of my cloak of invisibility! I toss that last bit in as proof that I'm not a total Harry Potter avoider). We've also been warned not to photograph the shipment boxes, and remove ourselves immediately should the media try to suck us in for information.

Additionally, I've weighed in on management conversations regarding the best place to hide the books when they finally arrive at the store. As you can imagine, the great "water damage versus fire" debate is a tough battle when you're looking to unload thousands of dollars worth of long awaited merchandise. Once that issue was figured out, the next conundrum was what to do about the rumored stampede of spoil sports who, according to the great all knowing Internet, plan to purchase their books, skip immediately to the final chapter and then run through bookstores yelling out the ending so as to ruin the final book for the normal people who have waited two years for this release and like to read their books from the beginning.

Quite honestly, it wouldn't surprise me to learn there will be counselors standing by at the store Friday evening to assist readers through the demise of this series. Should such be the case, maybe I'll talk to them about whether they believe in reincarnation, for I suppose there's a chance I could come back as someone who does give a rip about the fate of Harry Potter. Or a moody teenager with enough time to absorb nearly 800 pages without skipping immediately to the end.

But trust me, these seven books are not any I'd be rolling around naked in. Because even though I couldn't give a rip about Harry Potter, I've obviously given enough to post this entry. And the rolling around naked in them? Well, admittedly, that quirk is just odd, and maybe I should just leave that to "WizardLover" so he can share it on his MySpace..