Wizard reads extend past JK Rowling

EDITORIAL - LOUIS PIERARD
A waiting the last Harry Potter book was like the synchronous countdown to the first dawn of the new millennium: It was the event that captivated, rather than the quality of the light.
Now that the ecstasy has subsided and anyone busting to know "who did what to whom" has presumably been satisfied, it's worth reflecting on the implications of that orgy of anticipation accompanying the arrival of the seventh (possibly final) Harry Potter volume at the weekend.
JK Rowling's Potter series is a phenomenon mostly for the fact that it has been so brilliantly marketed. More than 325 million copies of Harry Potter books have been printed worldwide, in 66 languages.
So successful has been the release of each in the series (a frenzy in which the media have willingly complied - driving, as opposed to reflecting, interest in the event) that it has become almost obligatory to join the parade. There is a sense of cultural exclusion for those who cannot recite the names of main characters, who fail to be moved by what might have befallen them in the latest episode, or worse, who have not obliged by reading each instalment as it is launched with mounting fanfare.
Pottermania is driven by, and for, grown-ups: The British book chain, Waterstone's, predicted Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows would be read by more adults than children. And Rowling's UK publisher even released "adult editions". People reportedly took days off work to read the book; some held all-night readathons. How long must Potter junkies wait before the next hit?
Unlike hype about the latest child's toy, we fall in with it all because it is assumed the expectation of delving into Potter will generate interest in reading fiction.
But that may just be wishful thinking. For many children, Harry Potter is where reading for pleasure begins and ends.
Recent research in the US has shown that despite the delirious rush to read Harry Potter there is an accelerating decline in the number of young people reading fiction. While there is enthusiasm for books in early school years, by the time children reach adolescence most are not reading for pleasure at all. No doubt New Zealand teachers can report a similar lack of enthusiasm.
Pottermania has changed the nature of reading from quiet, intimate contemplation of a diverse range of fiction into an orchestrated, roaring football crowd with a focus on a single ball. As one critic put it: "We're experiencing the literary equivalent of a loss of biodiversity".
A good read is no longer a matter of the personal; it must now be collectivised and publicly professed.
Harry Potter has also induced group amnesia. One could be forgiven for imagining that children's fiction didn't exist "Before Potter" (or if it did that such books were the irrelevant, dusty relics of uniformed generations).
Yet for those who care to gaze up, there is a galaxy of superb children's literature, past and present, which (while it doesn't provide much scope for merchandising and moviemaking) is able to evoke a special kind of magic that's neither derivative nor formulaic.