Reading, for me, is entertainment and an escape from the real world. But it can also inform and stretch the boundaries of the life I live.
Just finished Act 1. I'm feeling underwhelmed so far. I don't feel any particular connection with any of the characters or sympathy for the kids' mission, and I'm not finding this play's version of Harry, Ron, or Hermione to be a very convincing grown-up version of the three kids from JKR's stories.
The thing with the bookshelf sparked my imagination a little, though.