Following is from baltimore sun which was able to get a copy via retailer that sold early.
Editor's Note: The Sun obtained the book from a reader, who is a relative of a Sun reporter. The relative preordered the book from an online retailer and received it before the publication date. The Sun did not pay for the book.
Let's cut to the chase:
Does Harry Potter, teenage wizard, survive to the very end of the blockbuster series by J.K. Rowling?
Is Severus Snape, the greasy-locked Potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a misunderstood double agent on the side of Truth, Justice and Muggle Rights, or merely the cleverest and most diabolical minion of the Dark Lord?
And, which of the book's lovable major characters meets a premature, albeit noble demise? And the answers are (drumroll, please):
I'm not going to tell you.
No. Nope. Absolutely not, no matter how hard you plead. You're just going to have to wait until the book's official release at 12:01 a.m. Saturday to find out for yourself. (But fair warning: If you read on, you may learn more than you care to know.)
Suffice it to say, though, that once you have consumed the final sentence on the final page crafted by Rowling, the ending seems inevitable. It is a tribute to the author's consummate storytelling skills that once the pieces fall into place, it all seems rather obvious. No other outcome would have been as plausible.
Taken as a whole, the Harry Potter series is a classic bildungsroman, or coming-of-age tale. Rowling carefully structured each of the previous six books to teach Harry a valuable life lesson that always is summed up at the book's end by Hogwarts' headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.
So, in Book 2, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, the boy wizard learns that character is determined not by people's abilities, but by the choices they make. And in Book 6, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, our hero learns that even the people we love and rely on the most are fallible, and that we may have more in common with our sworn enemies than we dreamed.
Book 7 is about coming to terms with death. From Plato to Descartes, our greatest thinkers have struggled with mortality. And in crafting her own answer, Rowling heavily borrows from the Christian notion of resurrection and the wisdom of accepting our own inevitable disintegration and decay.
Much of the pleasure in Rowling's books has derived from the inventiveness and humor she has employed in constructing her imaginary world (with, for instance, portraits whose subjects travel from picture frame to picture frame) and in the author's psychological acuity.
Has there ever been a better symbol of depression than the Dementors, the icy, hooded beings who can suck the soul from a person with a deadly kiss, leaving merely an empty husk?
Readers could enjoy Rowling's temporary, folksy fix for chasing away the blues (eat chocolate) while applauding the more permanent balm she offers: Concentrate with all your might on the events and people that have made you happy.
Book 7 is no less penetrating, but it lacks much of the charm and humor that distinguished the earlier novels. Even the writing is more prosaic, less fanciful.
But, how could it be otherwise?
By Book 7, Rowling is no longer inventing her magical world. Here, characters are accustomed to it, so it holds few surprises for them -- and, by extension, for us.
In addition, Harry and his friends are no longer children. The early books, in particular, were enchanting because we could watch Harry and his friends struggling with exceptional powers, which they had not yet mastered. So a young witch or wizard would mount a broomstick for the first time and promptly be bucked off. It wasn't unlike watching real boys and girls take their first steps or learn to read -- skills every bit as magical and mysterious as casting a Summoning Spell.
Book 7, unlike the previous novels, also introduces no major new characters that could invigorate the story.
Because the three companions are no longer in school, there is no new intriguing, possibly dangerous Dark Arts instructor with whom to contend. And even such old friends as werewolf Remus Lupin, the half- giant Hagrid and, yes, even Snape are offstage for much of the book.
The novel centers solidly on the efforts of Hermione, Ron and Harry to find and destroy the remaining horcruxes -- or magical objects containing fragments of Lord Voldemort's soul. As a result, the novel inevitably loses some of its vitality and spark. At times, the structure of Book 7 is overly complex.
In addition to the horcruxes, the friends also are searching for the three "hallows" mentioned in the book's title, magical objects that give the possessors the power to conquer death. (Unlike with the seven horcruxes, Harry, Ron and Hermione are told from the beginning what the hallows are. The only mystery is the location of these objects.)
That's 10 distinctly different magical objects, all with their own significance; trying to keep them all straight is not unlike searching for the golden snitch in a hotly contested game of Quidditch.
(Slytherin's locket? Horcrux or hallow? Try to remember, from Book 6, where it came from, who initially owned it and how Harry obtained it. Now, do that for the other nine objects.)
Longtime fans may be disappointed that all of their questions are not answered. For instance, Rowling once hinted, rather tantalizingly, that there's a reason that some dead people in her series return as ghosts, while others do not. She said that distinction would prove critical to the series' outcome. If it did, I missed it.
But what it may lack in sprightliness, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows makes up for with hard-won wisdom -- born, perhaps, out of personal experience.
Rowling has said she was inspired to make Harry an orphan by the loss of her own mother, who died from multiple sclerosis on New Year's Eve 1990.
But Rowling also is a mother (of Jessica, David and Mackenzie), so she knows firsthand the primal urge to protect her offspring.
It's not hard to see, in Harry's efforts to come to grips with death, echoes of the author's own struggle.
For Rowling, the parental bond has miraculous properties. That theme runs through all the novels, but in Book 7, it is especially important. It plays out not just between Harry and his dead parents, James and Lily Potter, but in other families as well. It's present in the strange, otherworldly Lovegoods, and even in the sneeringly arrogant Malfoys.
That love not only confers a sacred protection on the children; it also redeems, at least partially, their elders.
So, while we really can't divulge the ending of Book 7, we can tell you this much:
As the series draws to a close, Rowling gives her favorite character a rare and precious gift, a treasure that outshines any other boon she can imagine -- including immortality.
She gives Harry a family