oy.
I really kind of hate it when I figure out the twist in a mystery-type book long before the end. It's one thing when I have a couple of guesses, and am working on confirming them. But when I've known for certain who the mysterious Mr. C is for the past eight chapters and there are still over a hundred pages left, it really robs me of all enjoyment of the book, no matter how well-written and engaging it may be, because I just kind of want to bash the main characters' heads together and yell at them for being complete morons. (This is Connie Willis's To Say Nothing of the Dog, incidentally, which I was really quite enjoying until I figured it all out halfway through and now have to slog through the rest watching Ned and Verity get all worked up over their own utter stupidity and wanting to strangle them both.)
I very much hope I turn out to be wrong, and there's actually a brilliant unforeseeable twist at the end, because that will at least make reading the rest this book worthwhile. Right now it's just frustrating as hell.
I very much hope I turn out to be wrong, and there's actually a brilliant unforeseeable twist at the end, because that will at least make reading the rest this book worthwhile. Right now it's just frustrating as hell.