My mother, about whom I write in my new book
, was one of those readers who always read the end of a book first. She said she couldn't wait to find out what was going to happen and that knowing the ending actually increased her enjoyment. I was somewhat skeptical of the claim.
But now I see there's a study that indicates, as reported by Alison Flood in the Guardian's "Books Blog," that, indeed, "spoilers actually enhance your enjoyment" of a book. Flood writes, "A study by Nicholas Christenfeld and Jonathan Leavitt of UC San Diego's psychology department, due to be published in the journal Psychological Science, gave subjects 12 short stories, by authors including Agatha Christie, Roald Dahl, and John Updike. Some were presented in their classic form, others with spoiler paragraphs, with each version read by at least 30 people. And you know what? The spoiled readers actually had more fun."
Still, I can't ever bring myself to read the ending of a book first. But after reading this blog and some of the comments that followed, I realized that whenever I read a book for the second or third or fourth time I do already know the ending. And it's a different kind of reading experience. I slow down because I'm not racing ahead to see what will happen. I focus more on the prose and the observations. I suppose in some ways I do enjoy reading the book more.
And yet, nothing will make me give up the heart-pounding experience of reading a great novel for the first time and being desperate to find out what will happen. One of my favorite books is A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry. I read it when I was sick in bed, covered in chicken pox, which I was unlikely enough never to get as a child and so got as an adult. I lay there in bed, frantic in my efforts to try to keep from scratching. When the pox were at their very worst, I discovered this book; I was so enthralled by Mistry's story and so in love with his characters and so eager to find out what would happen, that for hours at a time I forgot about the pox entirely and didn't itch at all.
Had I known what was going to happen, I think I would have itched.
Even when not covered in pox, I crave the sensation of being addicted to a book. I especially long for the unique combination of pleasure and torture I feel when I am nearing the end of a long book I am loving, when I've spent days or even weeks in an author's world, and I now see the pages dwindling to a precious few, and I'm torn between wanting to know what finally happens and wanting to stay in that world with those characters.
This was also my experience while reading Dickens, Thackeray, Austen, Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison, and At Swim, Two Boys by Jamie O'Neill, to name just a few authors and books.
If you are, like me, a reader who can't and won't read the last pages of a book first, you can't find out what happens without having to finish. Which is always bittersweet. It turns out that with reading, as with life, an annoying old saying may well be correct: you can't have your cake and eat it, too.