In case you were wondering, one of the first uses of the word “spoiler” to pertain to ruining something by revealing the ending was in a 1971 issue of National Lampoon, in an article that revealed the endings of several movies. The word came into common usage with the rise of the Internet, and even distinguished movie critics like A.O. Scott and the late Roger Ebert have used the term. Trolls have since coopted the term, intentionally ruining things for other people because trolls delight in others’ misfortunes.
I’m one of those weird people who doesn’t mind spoilers that much. I remember around the release of the sixth Harry Potter book, there was speculation that (SPOILER ALERT) Dumbledore was going to die. I found this fact quite intriguing, and excitedly told my friend who lived down the street. She looked at me, horrified. “Why would you tell me that?” she asked, sounding like I had just murdered her dog. To me, it didn’t seem to be that important. I rarely mind knowing the ending in advance. Oftentimes it gives me a sense of relief to know that everything’s going to turn out all right, or it allows me not to get too attached to a favorite character. As someone whose favorite characters have an inexplicable tendency to die, knowing their fate in advance can help lessen the trauma.
Spoilers seem particularly relevant with the return of everyone’s favorite boobs-and-blood fest, “Game of Thrones.” Devoted readers of this column will know that I am an avid “Game of Thrones” fan. I’ve also read all the books, so I already know what’s going to happen. Even knowing how things are going to happen, I still enjoy watching the show every Sunday, especially since I managed to locate a big screen TV with HBO and no longer have to use my parents’ password for HBO Go. I found out about the (SPOILER ALERT) Red Wedding even before I read it in the book. I googled a character in the book (yes, I’m weird like that), and read that he reached an unfortunate end. Did it lessen the impact on the page or the screen? I would argue not, but I’ve always felt how an event is depicted is more important than what happens. A sentence or two in a review or Internet comment isn’t enough to take away the shock or horror of an event.
As an English major, I spend a lot of my time analyzing narrative and reading books where nothing really happens. (“As I Lay Dying,” anyone?) If the only value of your plot is that it’s unexpected and will freak people out, it’s not a very good plot. It is also not unusual for me to read a novel by reading the beginning, flipping forward to the end, reading the middle part and then the end again. Sometimes you just want to know what happens. I know that I’m in the minority with not minding spoilers, so I will not go about and ruin the current season of “Game of Thrones,” even though it is totally within in my power to do so. Be a responsible citizen and watch the show in a timely manner so we can talk about it. If you’re the type of person to read reviews and commentary online, it’s also pretty ridiculous to expect that the plot will remain unspoiled. Ditto for Twitter and Facebook. Also, if you have time to be on Twitter and Facebook, you also probably have an hour of free time to watch the show, though granted, watching the show will take away your chance to be outraged by spoilers, and some people just really like being outraged.
Frankly, I would really love some spoilers right now. I would love for someone to reveal the major plot points in the comments section of my life. It would be really nice to have someone say that I’m not going to be homeless and unemployed with no health insurance after graduation. I’m not a huge fan of uncertainty, and patience is not really my strong point. I can’t slog through a thousand pages of a book just to know what happens. So, Roger Ebert, if you’re looking down on us right now, and are also somehow now clairvoyant, I would really love to read your spoiler-filled review of the movie (or HBO TV show, as long as it’s not “Girls”) about my life. That’s kind of meta, which English majors are really into, but for those of you not studying a subject devoted to going around in metaphysical circles regarding whether words have inherent meaning (SPOILER ALERT: they don’t, but also, who cares?) I’ll put it this way. SPOILER ALERT: the end is nigh (and by nigh, I mean six weeks, but, hey, close enough). We’re graduating and leaving Dartmouth forever. That seems way more traumatic than someone getting offed at a wedding, but I don't see anyone complaining.
