I’ve been listening to the Percy Jackson book series on audiobook and suddenly, I’m 14-year-old Kayley in love with 15-year-old Percy Jackson again.

I was almost done with the Harry Potter series, and don’t get me wrong, as a first time reader, these books are incredible. They’re funnier than I expected; the characters are well-rounded and the world building is impressive.

But I don’t have the same emotional attachment to them as I do to Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson and the Olympians series, and the second I started reading about Harry, I wished I was reading about Percy. Anytime I read in our game room, I’d have to position myself differently to keep from glancing up, because my Riordan collection is lined perfectly on the shelf directly across my reading chair.

While Harry was dreaming of Voldemort, I imagined Percy dreaming of Kronos. When Harry first arrived at Hogwarts, I wished I was at Camp Half-Blood with Chiron and Dionysus. While Hermione was sassing Ron, I thought of Annabeth sassing Grover. Whenever Draco was cruel, I was reminded of Luke’s betrayal. When Harry realized he hated Snape, I was reminded of Percy’s hatred for Ares. Though Harry was the Chosen One and the subject of a major prophecy, Percy was the son of Poseidon…and the subject of a major prophecy.

While I read about the wizarding world, I wished for the world I loved first.

I will admit that I read the Percy Jackson series precisely because I wasn’t allowed to read Harry Potter as a kid. The irony is that Riordan is writing about literal paganism, while Rowling has a full-on Jesus character and all the Christian redemption arcs you could ask for, but hey - you don’t know what you don’t know, so I can’t be mad about it.

My introduction to Percy Jackson and the Greek gods over Harry and the wizarding world probably has something to do with my age, as well. I was born in 1996, a year before the first Harry Potter book came out. I’d probably call myself a “young millennial,” just under the wire before Generation Z arrived (though some of you may argue with me on that one).

So when the first Percy Jackson book came out, I was 9 years old and already an eager reader.

Percy Jackson, My First Literary Crush

Percy was 11 years old in the first book, so while I wasn’t old enough to fully identify with him (I also wasn’t a demigod, go-figure), I was old enough to develop a crush and desperately want to enter the world Riordan painted. By the time the 3rd book came out in 2007, I was the ripe age of most half-bloods when they find out one of their parents’ is a Greek god and monsters start trying to kill them.

I loved the idea of Percy’s pen/sword, Riptide, and carried a ballpoint pen in my pocket or purse. I searched for fanart on Tumblr of Percy and his love interest, Annabeth (who I was strangely never jealous of, maybe because teenage-me was convinced I was basically her and Percy loved me, as Annabeth). I desperately wanted a camp necklace - a leather string holding colorful beads that portrayed an image of major events that happened at camp each year. I was also smitten with Percy completely, and extremely well-versed in Greek mythology, especially Riordan’s version.

I wrote my first myth in my sophomore year of high school, where we read Mythology by Edith Hamilton. It wasn’t as good as the Greeks’, and I’m not even sure what physical reality I was trying to explain the origins of, maybe how a river got here? But it was a fun exercise, especially with Percy and Annabeth and Grover running around kicking monster butt and working to defeat the titan lord, Kronos, in my head.

Listening to these stories again has been such a comfort, especially during this busy season I find myself in. I don’t have to focus too hard, because I’ve read them so many times before - I know these stories so well. But when I can focus, I’m transported back into little-Kayley’s brain, and it’s nice for awhile.

Longing for Wholesome Stories

I may have mentioned this before, but over the past few years, I’ve been longing for those wholesome stories I read as a kid. Where the bad guy is all the way bad and I’m not expected to understand him or feel anything but contempt for him. Where the good guys are all the way good, though flawed, and I’m able to root for them the whole journey. And by the end of the journey, they’re still the hero, but now a mature, well-rounded hero, with more patience, loyalty, and fierce justice in their bones.

A story where the good guys always win, and the bad guys always lose.

It seems so many new stories, especially from Disney and Pixar, those old story gods, have missed the plot. They make the hero an idiot, who can only be saved by a sassy woman who magically knows everything and has no flaws. And they make the villain some misunderstood, tortured artist that they’ve tried to trick me into rooting for. Shock value is preferred over good storytelling. Especially for reboots and sequels, there’s no respect for the stories that built the world they’re hijacking.

And worst of all, in over-complicating the story and trying to blur the lines between good and evil, the characters become lifeless. They are plastic and one-dimensional; they never learn a lesson - they either step out of the spotlight to allow some random side-character (who also happens to check all the marginalized boxes currently popular in politics) to save the day, without any real work for it.

They are just bad stories.

I know, I probably sound like a “back in my day” type of person. But in a desperate attempt to plunge myself back into good stories, I’ve been reading old children’s literature. Stories that inspire virtue and hard lessons learned. Stories that aren’t saturated with filth, but rather adults that love and rightly-rear children, and children that respect and rightly-adhere to adults.

The Harry Potter and Percy Jackson series’ have provided this for me, and maybe it’s mostly nostalgia that has brought me back to these stories. I’m not so sure, since Little Women and Heidi have provided the same, and I read them for the first time last year.

A Chance to Read Percy Jackson for the First Time

I remembered something else in my re-read: I never finished the second Percy Jackson series, The Heroes of Olympus. I was finishing up high school when the last book came out, and in mourning the end of my childhood but also eagerly looking forward to adulthood, I was afraid to fully let go. It’s all very dramatic, I know, but these books had been my constant companions for almost a decade.

I didn’t want them to end, so I never read the last book. I never even read a synopsis. I stopped looking up fanart and fan-made summaries and speculations. I quit cold, the world of Percy and his friends in a time-freeze in my mind, the story conveniently unfinished and therefore, not done.

Though I’m still a little afraid to finish the series even now, as a 26-year-old adult with bills and a big-girl job, I’m also so excited to read a full-length book about Percy that I’ve never read before. Most avid readers would give anything to read their favorite books again for the first time, fresh eyes and hearts experiencing everything they love anew. I get that, for at least a few hundred pages, and I couldn’t be more excited.

All this to say, I’m hopeful for more wholesome stories - if you know of some, please give me recommendations! Lord knows I may go into a brief book depression once I finish Riordan’s series’ for good, so having something to ease me back into adulthood would be much appreciated. ;)

Happy reading, friends!