I finished reading I am The Messenger by Markus Zusak. And I still thought it was a fantastic book, so my memory didn't fail me there. Great characters, story, pacing, and a stinky dog to love. Doesn't get any better than a stinky dog like The Doorman.
So every night I would crawl into bed (my reading place), looking forward to--no, savoring the pages of this book. I am The Messenger is that good.
Until the end. My memory (from reading it a few years ago) didn't fail me there either. The ending... Well, it sucked. Sorry, Mr. Zusak. But I felt like throwing the book across the room, like a three year-old with a tantrum.
Without giving too much away, I am The Messenger had one of those universal themes, the ones that make a book resonate down to your core. But then at the end, there was that "Let me tell you what lesson you're supposed to learn from this book." Ugh.
And double-ugh for yanking me out of the story by having the author make a cameo on the final pages.
Clever? Sure. Satisfying? Don't think I need to answer that one. This took author intrusion to a whole new level.
If I pulled this stunt in my pages, my critique group would have whacked me on the head with my manuscript. All five members at the same time. With force.
It's a good book. Read it. Just make sure no one is nearby as you read the final pages--someone might get hurt as you vent your frustration.