The Book That Finally Made Me Sit Still

My parents were looking for ways to make me sit still and stay out of the way for a while. I was an energetic child. A sofa, a thick book and a little peace sounded like a reasonable arrangement.

They started me with Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Book four. A very casual approach to chronology, but an extremely effective one.

Little did they know that the plan would work far beyond specification. The book absorbed me. I read it again, then bought the previous three and disappeared into those too.

Soon the problem was no longer getting me to read. It was getting me to stop. Lights out became a loose suggestion. The book went under the sheets and came back out when the room was quiet.

For at least a year I was completely drawn into that world. I reread the books, carried them around, and gave my parents considerably more silence than they had originally ordered.

Then I got over it. I stopped at book four and never read the rest. That is probably the cleanest proof that the obsession, however complete, belonged to that particular year of my childhood.