I've never really understood this fixation with saving the end of a book for last. I've been known to skip ahead. It usually happens when I'm checking the number of remaining pages - I get caught up in the text and there you go. If the book has anything to offer other than a plot line, you'd be surprised how little is "gained" (or "lost"). After all, millions of people will go see Hamlet knowing (SPOILER ALERT!) the prince dies. They still manage to have fun.

I also sometimes start in the middle - especially in a library or book store. If the narrative grabs me, I'll take the book home and start over from the beginning. I can dip in and out of books a friend might be reading. Reading, for me, is far more than a journey to be made, in strict alphabetical order, from A to Z. It's why I can enjoy rereading books - even though I know the ending.

In any other context, people who could only approach a subject in so limited and proscribed a manner would be called not model citizens but intellectually challenged. I prefer to pity them as sensory deprived. They cannot savor the flavors of language any more than some poor individuals can detect the faint savor of anise in a particularly subtle flan. They devour their novels like Remy's rat cousins eat garbage. I prefer to taste each flavor like a chef in the kitchen - I make the book my own. Eating dessert first does not ruin my appetite.

That said, I would not dream of disclosing the end of Potter (though I finished the book last night). Just don't call me damaged goods because I read the Epilogue before the final chapter.