On the subject of the winter solstice, and therefore (this year at least) matters Harry Potter, I went and had a quick at the latest tome in the saga. What amazed me was its size; it looked more like the comprehensive version of the Oxford dictionary. Or put another way, a very, very, big brick.
Short wonder rumours abounded that J. K. Rowling was experiencing bouts of writer’s block, and having trouble completing the book. What on earth did she write about that could produce a volume of those proportions?
I’m half tempted to read the book to find out, but find I am rather intimidated by the enormity of the task ahead of me.
