I was at a bookstore near Christmas when I first picked up Harry Potter. We were staying with my grandmother, and the third book had just come out. I decided to break down and buy the paperback of the first one to see what all the hooplah was about. I thought to myself, “Surely this is just a passing fad, something no one will really remember tomorrow.”

I got home, settled by the table, under a lampshade hung round with refracting crystal droplets, and tuned out my chattering family. I opened the book, ready to be disappointed, but hoping to be impressed.

I read the first line very carefully, through mixing emotions: “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.”

I stared at the line in the yellowish lamplight, the dark Georgia sky looming in the window over my shoulder, my uncle’s warm laugh providing background noise, and I fell in love.

In one sentence, all of my prejudices fled, because that one sentence was so personable, so warm and normal and interesting, that no fears of mediocrity could stand up to it. I was surprised and pleased to find the Dursleys perfectly normal, living in a perfectly normal neighborhood, leading perfectly normal lives. And proud of it!

From that line on, I was trapped. I was a fan.

I suppose this is how you weed out the good from the bad — things just ring true. You enjoy the writing voice and a story that keeps you up until 2am. My poetry professor, Dr. S. Organ, said that when she and her husband helped judge a writing contest, they ran to show each other the same line in one boy’s paper. Because it was that strong. He won for that line, though the rest of his paper wasn’t as brilliant. But sometimes one line can make the whole read worth it.