Spoiled

It could be, regardless of what I’ve said in the past, that I may be a reader of romance. By that, I mean the whole Happily Ever After concept – which is the mainstay of the majority of romance novels. Apparently most romance readers expect one – or demand it – or won’t even read the thing unless there is one. I tend to scoff at this. I actually do like tragic sorts of endings, or where things are uncertain. As long as the characters grow along the way, it doesn’t really matter to me if they’re still together at the end.

Or so I tell myself.

However, I’ve discovered that’s not entirely true. Apparently, when it comes to books I love or characters I’m deeply invested in, I have this rather terrible habit of flipping to the back of the book to read the ending. Or if not the entire ending, then just enough to make sure everyone I care about is still around.  And yes, I did it within a few hours of buying An Echo in the Bone. Which I won’t spoil here, but whoa! Clearly, I don’t mind being spoiled, but I’m wondering if it’s more of a defense mechanism on my part. Like if I know everyone’s still alive, I’ll be able to relax and enjoy it more. Or maybe it’s the cowardly thing to do. I don’t know.

Totally depends on the series, though.  For example, I don’t do that with the GRRM Game of Thrones series – he’s made it quite evident that he has *no* qualms about killing people off, main characters or not.  Looking ahead doesn’t help much either, since there are usually so many twists and turns in the plot that spoiling doesn’t make much sense, but damn, those books keep me hopping!

Most books, I don’t do this. Maybe it’s because I’m jaded. I’ve read tons of books. Some I remember, some I don’t. In my heyday of being single and childless, it wasn’t unusual for me to crank through 600 pages in a single sitting. I could easily finish 3 or 4 books a week.The books I consider keepers are on my shelves, quite possibly to be reread at some later date – the rest are piled in boxes or under the bed or in the garage. Most books, even good books, don’t always keep my interest long enough to really care if the people survive or not. Good story? Sure. But will I remember it next year?  Probably not. And in some cases, that’s why I don’t like reading romances.  I already know there’s going to be a HEA, that the hero/heroine is going to beat the odds.  Which makes it boring. (Contradictory, I know, right?)

But there it is. Now, if you excuse me, I’ve got some more Diana Gabaldon to meander through. Can’t wait until I’m at the end.  From what I’ve read, it’s a humdinger. 😉

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