by Cody Clarke
I’m not a fan of Harry Potter. Read the first four as a youth and thought they were okay for what they were. Started reading the fifth and couldn’t get past the first 50 pages. Just wasn’t feeling it anymore. With all escapism, once the allure of the universe is gone, you find yourself in front of a naked Emperor.
Some people never fall out of the trance. We’ve all met our share of Star Wars prequel apologists. And there’s nothing wrong with them feeling so strongly. They’ve found someplace they feel at home. That is a virtue, whether in the real world or a virtual one.
And let us not limit this phenomenon to strictly fantasy fare. I for one find comfort and warmth through Gilmore Girls– even the subpar final season. Because it is not the plot, writing, acting, or any other factor that truly matters in escapism. It is vibe. Escapism is purely visceral. Either it resonates with the myriad vibrating strings that is you, or it doesn’t.
Dreams are the most fascinating part of our lives. Yet we are often bored when others tell us what they dreamt the night before. This is because all dreams, when seen objectively, are shoddy stories. Their importance to us is purely subjective. Some dreams we forget moments after waking. Others we remember for years. All are idiotic, but the memorable ones are idiot savants.
I could go on for ages pointing out each and every reason why the Harry Potter series sucks. And I’d be 100% right. Just as ‘Mr. Plinkett’ is with his epic Star Wars film reviews. But pointed-out irrationalities mean nothing to the enchanted. Nor should they. For they are in love.