Sometimes, I suspect, there is definitely merit in reading the last page of a book before investing in the whole thing. Take the book I just finished about a Scotsman’s journey across Afghanistan*. If I’d gone straight to the back; if I’d read the last lines...’ and then Barbur died...’ I would never have begun it. Never. Not the way I am feeling right now anyway.
I feel particularly aggrieved because I had thought it was a travel-writing book (which in fairness it is) but then he had to go and put a big loping bear of a dog in it. Should have been on the blurb I think especially since the dog’s journey is probably what made the book the most interesting in the end... Now I feel sad and I don’t like crying by the ocean – there’s enough salt water there already.
Then again maybe it isn’t really Barbur I am crying about.
Actually, yes I am. But if you asked me to wring out a tissue box I could probably find a few other things to cry about too.
Boo to books.
· * I don’t want to name the book at this point in case anyone decides to read it for themselves and likes a surprise...then again if a Scotsman meets a dog called Barbur you have been warned!!