I’ve had a look at the long list of words for killing things, but there doesn’t appear to be a word for the killing of childhood. Maybe it’s the killing of an ideal, or perhaps the burying of the past. Maybe there’s no word for it for an even darker reason.*
This post is prompted by this one, entitled “The Final Harry Potter – The Death of my Childhood”, which from my recent Facebook homepage and Twitter stream, seems to be a fairly common opinion.
I understand that people have been growing up with the stories of Harry Potter for a long while, the final publication of The Deathly Hallows bringing the first nail to the coffin housing childhood and the subsequent filming the final one. It’s the end of an era. I understand that.
My gripes with the Harry Potter franchise have existed since the earliest opportunities, and for a number of reason – firstly that Rowling gets her mythology wrong, secondly that the books aren’t particularly well written. I have been able to cope with them by seeing them as a gateway drug, of sorts.
Yes, they’re finished. You might choose to see that as the killing of your childhood. Accept it. People grow old, people grow up.
There’s plenty of good fantasy to suit your current adulthood – George RR Martin or Joe Abercrombie to name but two. And if you insist on reading adolescent fantasy, try something decent. I will always recommend Alan Garner.**
* Readers of this entry should be able to ascertain the veiled reason.
** There’s a video through that link. You should watch it..