Back when I first picked up Percy Jackson and The Lightning Thief, I had not read many novels. I was probably 12, I can’t remember it clearly. It was my mother’s copy because back then the only novels I read was the Harry Potter series. I would read it again and again. That changed one day, when I sat in the back of my mother’s car.
I had seen a book lying around in the house for some time. At the dinner table, the magazine rack beside the toilet, anywhere my mother goes, the book would go with her. One day, when I was on the toilet, I picked it up for a quick scan. The cover was a boy holding a lighting bolt, his bottom half body submerged in water. Using most of my brain power, I tried to absorb the book’s content. I glanced at random pages and looked at some of the illustrations that were in the book. But, I couldn’t understand anything. The story that Rick Riordan tried to tell me was too complicated for me, filled with concepts that I had no experience with.
Magic, in some way, is easy to understand, that’s why I could read Harry Potter without any major problem. I don’t have to think how Harry could’ve possibly transported himself to Diagon Alley by burning himself in a chimney, it’s magic. Or how Hermione turns back time, it’s magic. There’s not a lot of things for me to process.
This got me more interested in the book. I asked my mother one day during dinner, “mom, what is that book you’re reading about?” and my mother, who really wants me to read more novels, answered, “you should read it and find out for yourself.” suffice to say, I was not satisfied with the answer she gave me. For the next couple of days I didn’t think much of the book. But it was in the back of my mind, scratching my brain and tempting me to read it.
One day, my mother and I were going somewhere. I sat on the back of the driver’s seat, minding my own business, and there it is, glaring at me from the pocket on the backside of the driver’s seat. “Percy Jackson and The Lighting Thief” the title said. I read that title over and over, until I can’t hold it back anymore and I picked it up. I asked my mother if I’m allowed to read it, and of course she said yes. I read the first chapter titled “I Accidentally Vaporize My Pre-Algebra Teacher” and just like that, I’m hooked
I would bring it everywhere I go. During school breaks when others are hanging out, I would pull out the novel from my bag and immerse myself in the world of Percy Jackson. When my friend asked me what the book was about and I answered it was about Greek god and myths they would just look at me weird, as if I didn’t answer their question and just talked gibberish.
Days turned to weeks (I was not a quick reader) and I finally finished it. By that time, I’d say I have more knowledge about ancient Greece than the entirety of my school. But that didn’t matter as much because something else more profound had happened to me.
The way I react to people has changed. I didn’t take many things seriously and would joke around more often.Percy Jackson, while impulsive, is not a character that reacts to things physically. If he is faced with confrontation, he would first make a joke or sarcastic comments, and if those two things didn’t work then maybe he picked up Riptide. And that’s how I behave after reading the book. Any time I am faced with a confrontation or uncomfortable social situation I would just make sarcastic comments or jokes, though admittedly it usually would fly over their head and make things worse.
The Percy Jackson series meant a lot to me. It helped me through my parent’s divorce, and provided me an escape from the cruel experience of middle and high school. I can safely say that the series is more than a book to me. It’s who I am, and maybe it’s bad to make fictional characters my role model, but honestly, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover have done more good to me than the adults around me.
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