Thanks to old habits, I have developed what is, as far as I’m aware, a rather unique way of reading books. The problem which led to this is simple. I have a tendency to read in the bathroom, and an equally strong tendency to forget to leave a bookmark in there. This coupled with the fact that I have a terrible memory and an almost obsessive need to keep my books pages and spines free of creases means no way of telling where I was reading last time, so I just pick a new bit and read that unless I recognise it. Of course some books don’t naturally lend themselves to this means of consumption, but it’s a rather novel (ha!) way of watching the plot come together. Even more interesting if it’s a book you’ve read before, but that you only remember as the plot strands meet at the end.
This is where my point begins to be made. I was thinking one day how much the better-written stories work best this way, because it is fun to read each page, and the plot doesn’t matter until the very end, there’s little to no suspense (depending of course on which bits you read first). So as long as I’d enjoyed the act of reading, would I be disappointed if at the end nothing fit together at all?