In the same "sorry not sorry" spirit evidenced by the 7.4%
Imagine a cordon blue chef prepares a fine meal for you at the height of their powers. You sit down to dine ... tuck in your napkin ... and then, for some reason known only to yourself, begin to cram the food up your bum... That, my friends, is how this author feels about anyone who doesn't read the book in the order indicated by the page numbers.
I'm getting a little sick at just the thought of it
ReplyDeleteI some time if I want to commit to the book read the last word on the last page....
ReplyDeleteI hear some readers did this for LGBT books to check that the main character didn’t die from AIDS.
ReplyDeleteI only ever remember doing this once, and that was for the book "I am Legend" by an author I think I need not specify. I don't know exactly what possessed me to do such a horrific thing, but I did it. Read the last line on the last page. I believe that I was about halfway through the book at the time.
ReplyDeleteAs I continued to read, I was plagued by those last words. I wondered what they meant, and why would they be the cherry on the top of the typical ice cream sundae, so to speak. As I got closer and closer to the end, this need to know continued to spin in my mind. Over and over it rolled, but I couldn't see it. Ten pages to the end; no better. Five pages; nope. Two pages. Then the last page, and the last words on that page.
As I completed reading those last words (for the second time), the conundrum was no clearer and the ideas filling that last scene and the possible impact of those last words tumbled through my head for about the next ten seconds.
Then it hit me.
And I was ridiculously impressed with two things:
1) That Richard Matheson was a pretty great author
2) That I would likely never randomly find another book for which I might duplicate this experience
Thus, although my experience in this case was incredibly affecting, I promised myself that I would never again read the last page before the time for doing so had come.