Some people shriek at the sight of a spider. Others can’t get into elevators. For many contemporary consumers of literature and film, the merest hint of knowing what’s ahead sends them into panic mode. Where did this “spoilerphobia” come from? Is it rational?
Well, like most aesthetic questions, the answer is…complicated.
As an ancient mariner, I first noticed this phobia when I was teaching film history. I often wanted to talk to my students about a movie that they hadn’t seen and possibly never would. When I would start to describe a turn in the plot, the students would mockingly place their hands over their ears.
Spoilerphobia didn’t just infiltrate my classrooms. In 2010 fans and showrunners publicly pilloried TV critic Alessandra Stanley for revealing plot details about Mad Men. Goodreads reviews and Reddit threads hide and warn about spoilers.
If language is our guide, spoilerphobia appears to be a relatively new phenomenon. Lexicographers date the origin of the term “spoiler alert” to the late 1970s and the growth of the internet. In an article on Medium, Alex Mell-Taylor offers insight into how spoilerphobia has been deployed to hype current releases and shield them from criticism.
Certainly, spoiler censorship has conquered the internet, the playground of younger generations. Knowing about the hot new book or movie can embody a certain cultural “one-upmanship” and indicate class privilege. Those with the money, time, freedom, and motivation to stay on top of current releases or buy new hardcovers may obtain an experience denied to those who have to wait for library copies or cheaper venues. So, the power to “spoil” lies disproportionately in the hands of those with elite access—like the critic—while anxiety about being deprived of an “untainted” experience affects people with less access.
In my classes, students whose families subscribed to HBO had an edge over those of us (including me) who didn’t. If they wanted to, the HBO students could have given away the shocking turn of “The Red Wedding” episode of Game of Thrones. (Except—I was armored against any such a loss because I had already read the books.)
At any rate, I feel that both “the privileged” and “the deprived” are over-emphasizing the wrong elements.
Does revealing plot details ruin anything? Are plots analogous to glasses of milk that go bad if they sit too long? In the classroom, I would brush aside my students’ resistance by declaring—with deliberate hyperbole—“Plot doesn’t matter!”
After all, most texts more or less give away their own endings. With many stories, readers intuit from the moment they start more or less where they will end, taking cues from genre conventions, advertising, titles, and blurbs. Were you really ever in any doubt that the humans of Westeros would defeat the White Walkers? Did you think that the women pilots in The Calculating Stars, Book I of The Lady Astronauts, would be forever barred from flying?
Having expectations fulfilled provides its own special pleasure. We love adaptations. There’s no mystery left as to what is going to happen in Pride and Prejudice (spoiler alert: the lovers get together). But we watch each new iteration to discover what this Elizabeth Bennet and this Mr. Darcy are going to be like, which characteristics these actors highlight. How will this version capture their misunderstandings and their passion? As moviemakers know too well, the more familiar we are with the story or genre, the more likely we are to go see the movie. Remakes, like adaptations, multiply like rabbits. And most of us enjoy rereading and re-watching, long after we know all the turns of the plot: we take particular pleasure in waiting for key scenes.
Only a few stories—commonly called “twist” novels or films—manage to shock us. No Way Out (1987), The Usual Suspects (1995), and Fight Club (1999) became famous for their subversive endings; in novels, one could point to Scott Turow’s Presumed Innocent (1990), Anne Tyler’s One True Thing (1994), Jodi Picoult’s My Sister’s Keeper (2004), or Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl (2012). Twist endings—particularly common in mysteries, thrillers, and horror—have become more popular in recent decades.
Twist stories work via a gimmick; they withhold information to misdirect us, the way a magician performs a trick. If part of the pleasure of consuming a narrative is thinking we are smart enough to solve an enigma, successful twists rock us back on our heels and prove that we readers are not as perceptive as we thought we were, and the author/magician is fully in charge. When they succeed our mouths fall open and we experience awe at how masterfully we’ve been hoodwinked.
Even with such limit cases, what I most want to do with twists is go back, re-watch, and figure out where and how the unreliable narrator led me astray. My enjoyment of a story is not ruined by knowing ahead of time the information that’s been so zealously kept hidden. By now nearly everyone in the world must know that “Rosebud” is a sled—Charles Schultz drew a memorable “Peanuts” cartoon strip on this topic—but people still watch Citizen Kane. After all, as Thompson says, no one word can explain a person’s life. There’s a downside in putting so much emphasis on the shock of a twist: one of my friends mentioned that because he’s heard about the reveal of The Sixth Sense, now he doesn’t need to see the movie. This saddens me because he’ll miss out on a clever and moving film, with good performances, and a truly fascinating narrative device.
Psychologists have done experiments with “spoiled” and “unspoiled” short stories, experiments that have yielded contradictory results, perhaps because readers emphasize diverse aspects of narrative. I can’t be alone in enjoying the texture of the world-building, the way characters develop, the themes that rise to the surface, or the social commentary. I savor the style of the writing and all that it conveys about the narrative voice. In movies, the music, cinematography, dialogue, or acting are often more satisfying to me than the (rather predictable) plot beats. “How is this story told?” is as important to me as where it concludes. I can give away the fact that Mrs. Ramsey dies in Virginia Woolf’s To The Lighthouse, but in doing so I’ve hardly prepared you for the breathtaking flow of the novel’s “Time Passes” section.
I do understand that part of the “how” of stories is “how the plot develops.” As scholars have analyzed, “What’s going to happen next?” is one of the engines of narrative, it draws us forward, creating a chain of cause and effect, little mysteries and gaps that must be filled in, enticing us to keep reading.
Speaking now not about endings per se but surprises we stumble across as the story unfolds, these turns may catch us off guard. Who is unmasked as a traitor, spy, or ally? Game of Thrones—among other things—is about treachery. Enigmas constantly arise as to who is loyal to whom and who knows about which betrayal. Sometimes the characters are misled; sometimes the viewer. I was quite surprised by the way the “Trial of Arya” in Winterfell in Season 7 suddenly turns into the “Trial of Littlefinger.”
Surprise can indeed be one of the great pleasures of fiction, the moment where you say to yourself—“Whoa, I didn’t see that coming!” And narratives that shake the ground under the readers’ feet create a certain heightened, tingling tension: “If that can happen, what else is this author going to do? What other conventions will she defy?” If the biggest star and central character, Janet Leigh (Marion Crane) is killed off half-way through Hitchcock’s Psycho, and Sean Bean (Eddard Stark) is beheaded despite Joffrey’s promise in Game of Thrones, then we’d better be on our guard for the rest of the story.
Buy the Book
A Queen in Hiding
Of course, I understand that revelations and endings do matter. I just don’t think they matter as much as people think they do or for every story. What I object to most about admonitions never to reveal plot is the implicit evaluation that surprise is everything, vastly more important than every other element of the work.
Because I had read the novels, my experience of Game of Thrones differed from the experience of viewers new to Westeros. For one thing, I was less confused (!) and I had a better grasp of the characters and Houses. Perhaps my enjoyment of the series was enhanced over a first-time since I anticipated key events.
I believe we can have more meaningful discussions if we push through the dictates of spoiler phobia. When I taught the 1956 version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, in which the protagonist (Kevin McCarthy) survives to warn the world about the pods, I’d tell the students about the 1978 version in which the heroine approaches the protagonist (now Donald Sutherland) at the end, believing that he is part of the resistance, only to discover… he too has been taken over! The divergent endings tell us so much about the decline in American optimism between 1956 and 1978. Or, summarizing the genre conventions of a romantic comedy, I’d want the class to know about My Best Friend’s Wedding (1997), in which the girl doesn’t get the guy, and we accept this as the right conclusion.
If we are going to share our experiences of stories, we must be free to mention everything that we find relevant without fear of censure. Talking about the plot isn’t automatically a malicious flaunting of privilege. These days, with so many options to meet every taste, we’ve all seen or read works that have eluded our friends. To venerate only surprise is to downgrade every other pleasure. Oftimes I can seduce someone into watching a movie by describing a particularly noteworthy plot turn. (Don’t you want to see My Best Friend’s Wedding now? It sheds light on the whole genre.)
Especially these days, as our viewing and reading choices multiply exponentially and we share so little common ground, let’s break through this artificial, self-imposed censorship that holds us back. We may find that knowing more rather than less about a plot entices us to experience a story more richly.
Sarah Kozloff is Professor Emerita of Film from Vassar College and the author of the epic fantasy series The Nine Realms published by Tor/Macmillan.
My stance is that for any story, I have one chance to experience it without knowing what’s going to happen next. Yes, if it’s a conventional genre story I can probably figure out the broad strokes of what will happen but that’s still different from having answers told in the narrative. So I’d prefer to keep that chance if I can. If I want to experience the story while knowing what’s going to happen, I can read/watch it a second time.
The priveleged/non priveleged divide is an interesting one (and for me it’s also about the privelege of TIME) but I do kind of resent the idea that we just shouldn’t care.
I actually don’t even like going into adaptations with spoilers because even if I know WHAT is going to happen, all those other little details have a certain joy when being experienced for the first time. I don’t even like music/soundtrack spoilers because it’s so cool to get excited by a little moment as part of the whole. My one exception to this is listening to the soundtrack albums for the Star Wars movies before watching it to see if I can guess the plot (but even that I consider part of the ‘first time’ because the album is a work in and of itself, and was part of got me hyped for the movie itself) – and even that STILL had surprises for me because some key musical elements were left off that album, and also hinted at other things that I could guess but didn’t truly know.
At any rate, everybody gets to choose how much they want to hype themselves up and how much they want to be unspoiled. Weirdly enough, nowadays, even a trailer can be spoiled (I’m still kind of bitter at Tor for spoling the Han reveal at the end of the first TFA trailer by blasting it on the front page, instead of the experience of a trailer which – musical and visuals alike – were perfectly crafted to build to an emotional experience that ended with that reveal).
I’m with noblehunter @1. I am an avid re-reader (or, I used to be, when I had the time), and there is definitely value to me in re-exploring works that I know backwards and forwards, but I really appreciate not knowing what’s coming the first time I read/watch something.
And a lot depends on how soon after the work premieres that the spoiler happens. Someone complaining about being spoiled for The Sixth Sense these days is fairly ridiculous (a twenty-year old movie, really?), but the issue of privilege and early access is definitely a factor.
Overall, it boils down to respect and expectations. There’s not a bright line where “after this point, spoilers are a go” in every situation, but as long as people know the expectations they can go to forums that are appropriate for their tastes.
Thank you for a fascinating, well-reasoned article.
I love spoilers, I wouldn’t have survived season four of Babylon 5 without them. Spoilers warned me that the new Star Wars Trilogy was going to be a disappointing retread and saved me some money. Spoilers have saved me hours of time, enabling me to ignore shows I wouldn’t like and soothed my nerves, which don’t take suspense well.
I didn’t read this article so nobody tell me how it ends
I’m also an academic, and I thought this was interesting and worth diving into – but I’ve also been tired for a while of the notion that the young folks today are being noticeably more squeamish and hysterical than in the past. Nothing in my experience suggests this, and I always find this condescending given that (in my experience, anyway) undergrads if anything now talk much more openly and nonchalantly than they did 10-15 years ago about e.g. mental illness, power dynamics in society, etc. This article reminded me a bit of the uproar over trigger warnings, which were also painted as a supposed coddling device (unconvincingly, in my opinion, relative to their use and effects in reality as I’ve witnessed it). I do think that if students sign up for a class and something’s on the syllabus, they should know the entirety is going to be discussed. Literature majors will soon learn that grasping their subject sometimes might well mean running into spoilers sometimes. But I also think it was inevitable that spoiler warnings as a societal phenomenon were going to arise, because of the utter volume of entertainment out there these days and how wildly accessible it is to anyone who has an Internet-connected device of any kind. The commonality with trigger warnings, I’d say, is that it’s easy to mistake for an overreaction in the direction of censorship, when (as per my observations) it’s just giving a heads-up to people in the room who might have a different set of experiences and background knowledge that it’s worth being a little bit careful about because then their experience in the classroom will be orders of magnitude better. The key in both cases is giving people control over when they receive information.
I think TVTropes handles it well: spoilers are whited-out by default (such that you’d have to highlight over them to see them), but for any page referring to a specific work of entertainment (a book, TV series, webcomic, etc.), you can click a button to show all the spoilers if you know them and/or aren’t bothered by the idea of running into them.
It’s an interesting question.
But I do think that students in a film history class ought to be prepared to hear things about films.
And I may not always know where to draw the line, but I’m pretty sure that even the finer plot points of Little Women should fall on the open-secrets side of it. (Yes, I have actually seen such a discussion.)
I’m entirely on the side of 1 and 2. I don’t see any harm at all to spoiler warnings, and a great deal of harm to reveals without them.
Respectfully, I find this article to be the same condescending stance that I am wrong for preferring to enjoy the journey of a story my first time through.
I can find enjoyment in rewatching something I enjoy, but the experience is different than going in fresh. I do not take enjoyment from watching something I have not seen if I am thinking of the big spoiler all the way through, which is going to happen if I know it. I have done this and it does not work. The experience is lessened. It is the equivalent of someone warning me “This part is so funny, you’re going to laugh so hard when you see it,” just before the joke is told. It falls flat and it leaves a terrible taste in my mouth.
Some things are going to be impossible to avoid as time and distance lengthen from a work’s original airing. Casablanca, Citizen Kane, The Empire Strikes Back, etc are all well within the cultural zeitgeist that it would be nearly impossible to experience other media without being spoiled. But a discussion of something like Harrow the Ninth, or Knives Out should absolutely be done in a way that anyone entering the space would know to expect spoilers.
The viewer, and only the viewer, should be the one to decide whether they wish to have prior information and to think otherwise is both selfish and offensive. The internet has provided us with plenty of spaces to cordon off our discussions of the things we enjoy.
Interesting. I always chalked it up to personal taste. I read books for the characters and setting, and am lucky if I understood the plot all the way through. I don’t usually go looking for spoilers, but they don’t ruin the experience, and sometimes help me to rocus on the elemenrs of interesr instead of struggling to figure ouf what’s happening. But people who don’t share my priorities have every right to their preferences.
If spoilerphobia is on the rise, I expect it’s due less to any shift in our collective psyche and more to the way the internet has made it much easier for people to connect with others who read/watch the same story, and in some cases (e.g. Game of Thrones) to have spoilers tossed around in the greater media arenas where people might not be looking for them. I appreciate it for creating a new and wonderful phenomenon that I call pop culture gladiators — people who read or watch somethings for the first time and publicly display their reactions in blogs (such as Tor), podcasts, Facebook posts etc., sometimes suffering spectacularly for our entertainment as we watch them go through the process of emotional pain and joy we’ve experienced or display surprisingly different first impressions than we had. Some people manage to make a livelihood from this, while others do it for the common good, and many have collectively been the light of my online life since 2013.
Reading a book for the first time and finding out what happens is a different way to enjoy a book than rereading a familiar book. If you aren’t spoiled you can do both.
I seldom watch movies any more because it’s all reboots of sequels of reboots. If they want to tell a new story they steal some names from a familiar series to get more attention and disappoint fans of the original. More explosions don’t make a story better that is incomprehensible if you don’t know the original from which they have stolen some scenes and replaced the parts that make the story make sense with showing off the latest special effects.
@6,
Rosebud is the sled.
@13 PamAdams
You were wrong for that on so many levels 😜
@13 What? I thought it was a teddy bear!!
The first time I believe I ran into a major type of spoiler warning was for The Crying Game (1992). Honestly to this day I haven’t seen the movie, and likewise I don’t care about the twist that occurs in the movie. However I distinctly remember folks telling me that they couldn’t explain the movie because it’d give too much away. It was important that the audience remain unknowing of the twist until it happens.
I think worrying about spoilers has something to do with how invested we are with the story. Recently I rewatched all of Deep Space Nine (pandemic viewing!). I had never watched it all the way to the end, and I had Tor’s rewatch by Keith DeCandido’s commentary to partner with the rewatch. Most I watched in their entirety without spoilers but about a third maybe I got about halfway into the show and then while it was playing start reading the article. I wasn’t invested in any twist or surprise and I was more interested in analysis.
I’m not sure I could argue that we are more invested in our literature or visual arts than in ages before, but perhaps we are at a time when due to the vast informational resources we have available, the possibility of having that investment compromised (even to a minor degree) feels more likely and thus we guard more against that unwelcome intrusion.
Thank you for an enlightening essay. I’m sure we can all think of times when this has be taken too far, in our personal experience. A university acquaintance who was about to go and see “Titanic” became very upset with me for mentioning that the ship sinks. Apparently, I’d ruined the whole film, and removed the entire point of watching it…
@17 wait, are you saying the ship…?
My most recent spoilerphobia was for the novel Piranesi. I’m reading a whole lot of web stuff during the pandemic, so I saw the headlines for at least 6 reviews of it (which all thought it was marvelous, as did I).
I am very, very glad I did not read any of the reviews before reading the book. Knowing where the book goes would have had a strong negative effect on my reading experience.
We didn’t have a word for it, but I’ve been avoiding spoilers for 60 years. I read for the experience; any analysis can come later. I will continue to do this for anything that looks like it will be a bit outside of the same old.
Spoilerphobes need never, ever read reviews or articles about books/films/TV shows then. It won’t be spoiled for you. If you *do* read the reviews/articles, on your own head be it. No whining/blaming/commenting.
They’re reviews of and articles about a thing that exists. Your phobia does not rule the way others look at these artifacts.
I hardly could disagree more with this article.
Revelations and endings might not matter that much to Sarah but they do matter to me. If I had a teacher declaring “Plot doesn’t matter!” and merrily spoiling the stuff I want to read, I’d not attend this class.
There’s nothing wrong with re-reading or re-watching a book or movie but the experience to do so for the first time is something special. That may be less true for some books/movies but very much so for others.
Maybe Sarah has never experienced to be totally blown away by a turn of events she didn’t see coming – or maybe her brain works differently from mine – but these instances that are quite rare are so amazing that they stay with me for years, sometimes for decades.
For example, I was watching From Dusk Till Dawn without knowing much about it. Thought it was a film about a kidnapping. Then, it this pivotal scene with Ms Hayek that gives the movie a whole different direction, my jaw literally dropped. I thought I couldn’t believe my eyes. That was 20 years ago and I still remember it.
Imagine reading an Agatha Christie novel on a plane and the guy next to you saying “That’s an awesome novel – I never would have guessed that she faked her death and burned her maid in her stead.” (example made up, of course!). I don’t know how you would feel but I would be livid.
Spoiling is like loud music in a library.
Those who don’t want to be spoiled are at a massive disadvantage, just as those who prefer silence. One crucial information can ruin the enjoyment for some readers, just as one loud person can spoil it for all that keep quiet.
Trying to avoid spoilers isn’t an irrational fear, it is the attempt to those of us who do care for plot to get most of it. To experience that magic of discovering a new story, to see a new vista.
If you don’t care for that, that’s fine with me. Go read a summary of the plot before you start reading a book for the first time if that’s what you like to do.
But show respect to those of us who prefer a different experience.
Unless it’s a detective novel (or something similar) and I am told ahead of time Who Dun It (please don’t do that!), I actually prefer to know something of what’s going to happen. If some major character is going to die, I don’t want it to come out of the blue. I want a chance to brace myself.
For me, too, the greatest part of my enjoyment of a book is in how it’s written, not what happens. Getting involved in a good book is, for me, an immersive and emotional experience entirely different than being told about it. So, for the most part, it doesn’t bother me in the slightest to see spoilers on what will happen – and as I said first, often I would rather know than not.
I don’t mind spoilers, but I try to respect others who really don’t want to know _______. But there has to be a time limit. I saw someone get upset because a discussion of someone’s novel spoiled a Dorothy Sayers novel for him/her. I don’t know what that time limit is, but I don’t think anyone should complain about spoilers for works written before they were born.
Personally I think it’s possible to do informative non-spoiler reviews, I have many times made decisions to watch movies and read (or at least purchase) books based on non-spoiler reviews. I think it depends on the context and the audience whether a spoiler warning is appropriate. In the context of general consumption I agree with @7 above that giving people control over when and how they receive information is the primary purpose of spoiler warnings. But in a classroom context I don’t think students should expect a warning for a plot twist for any works under discussion.
I think it also depends on the person you’re talking to, how much you know about how they engage with works and whether you’re talking to them on a public forum, for myself, I try to stay away from spoilers for the most part, I have been spoiled for any number of things, and sometimes I read/watch it anyways and other times I don’t. I know the twists to The Usual Supsects, The Sixth Sense, and Fight Club, and I still haven’t seen any of them, but I was never interested in them to begin with. I was also spoiled for the Korrasami ending to Legend of Korra (sort of, I think, I have some very conflicting memories about how I got into that show), but I watched it anyways. In all those cases, I thought I would never watch those works and so didn’t bother avoiding spoilers and for some of those works that remains the case whereas Legend of Korra is among one of my favourite shows.
@25: It certainly is possible to do informative, non-spoilery reviews.
I recently stumbled over Merphy Napier’s YouTube channel and she keeps all her reviews (mostly SF&F) spoiler-free. In the rare cases where she does talk about what would be considered spoilers she tells her viewers ahead of time and advises them when the spoiler bit will be over.
Now, some people will consider this over-the-top, but this fact makes all the difference for me. I almost never watch review videos because I want to avoid spoilers, knowing that I won’t be spoiled will make me want to watch her videos and not others.
I also shy away from many written reviews unless I can be reasonably certain not to be spoiled. I’ve learned that reviewers in newspapers very often don’t give a hoot about spoilers so I don’t read these. I also don’t read book blurbs because I’ve been burned too many times. Some give away waaaay too much for my taste.
@21 People who are highly averse to spoilers do in fact avoid articles and reviews about their media. I only read Tor.com when I’ve read/seen the book/show in question or I’ve decided that I’m not going to read/watch it.
The reasonable middle ground is to avoid putting spoilers in unexpected places or without warning. Tor.com tries to give good warning but they occasionally screw up and put something above the cut or in the header picture.
I think it is polite to avoid spoilers for awhile after a work is released. (or mark the review/comment/whatever with spoiler notices.) However, the level of aversion has become ridiculous. As someone mentioned above I’ve seen folks complain about spoilers for movies decades old. I once had someone furious because I mentioned
SPOILER ALERT that in the 1939 film Oz is a dream.
What really is irritating is when someone goes to a discussion board and then complains about spoilers. If you are going to an site that specifically is discussing a book/movie or whatever then it is the reader’s responsibility to avoid reading the spoilers.
Some of the comments read to me as if they think that we spoilerphobes are asking people not to discuss works at all or to avoid all spoilers entirely. That’s not what we’re saying — we’re just asking to label spoilers and leave them out of titles.
This is probably why I never give my opinion on most books or films or shows anymore. I almost always provide a spoiler when discussing something without noticing. LOL.
Nowadays, I just say the immortal words of Robert Jordan (and Brandon Sanderson): Read (Watch) and Find Out.
My personal guide for spoilers:
1. If you share surprising details about a movie or book the opening weekend, you’re the jerk.
2. If the book or movie has been out for two weeks or more, spoilers may happen. If it were really important to you, you would have seen the movie or read the book by then.
3. In any case, though, it’s polite not to spoil a book or movie, unless your discussion (as in a classroom setting) requires that detail. The article purposely mentions the endings of two versions of “Invasion of the Bodysnatchers”, neither of which I’d seen. Was it necessary? I’m not sure, but it did show how spoiling a movie can alter one’s enjoyment of it. And why would you want to make someone have a less enjoyable experience than yours? It’s just rude.
The two-word answer here: context matters.
On one hand, I like being surprised by a particularly clever plot twist in a given book or screen story. On the other, I’m less inclined nowadays to try to maintain complete spoiler avoidance than I once was.
In part, that’s because for me, execution often matters more than surprise. I’ve enough of an analytical bent that I’m fascinated by the craft involved in setting up and paying off a given twist. And most of the time, knowing what happens ahead of time doesn’t diminish my appreciation for the skill involved in pulling off (and paying off) the reveal.
Now as a reviewer of new works, I generally try to avoid springing plot spoilers. Not only is it a disservice to readers who prefer not to be spoiled, it’s a disservice to authors to unnecessarily give away information in ways that undermine their original storytelling choices. That said, there are cases where one can’t effectively discuss a book or movie without addressing a spoiler element; on the infrequent occasions where I feel it’s warranted, I’ll warn for spoilage in a review before going into detail.
Where older works are concerned – per above, context matters. If I’m discussing a work in the context of critical analysis, focusing on matters of technique or craft, I’m rarely if ever going to worry about issues of spoilage. OTOH, if I’m recommending certain of my very favorite works to prospective new readers, I will often do so in a way that explicitly avoids spoilers, precisely because I think it’s worth experiencing those works for the first time in a way that reflects the creators’ intent. This is sometimes a tricky proposition given the interplay between spoiler warnings and trigger warnings (and the latter, for obvious reasons, take precedence), and I don’t take that line with everything I recommend. But it’s precisely because I really appreciate a well-executed twist that where I can, I’ll try to strike the bargain that serves both creators and readers.
Like “Citizen Kane”, a twist-ending story that is now essentially spoiler-proof because it’s so well-known is Robert Louis Srevenson’s “The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde”. It’s climactic revelation must have been a shock to many of its original audience, but it must be almost a century since any new reader or viewer (or most members of the general public!) wasn’t already aware of the relationship between the title characters.
This overall tone and content of this article came off as pretty condescending to me, like oh, I’m so sorry that I’m such a boorish consumer of base media that I don’t get that a story is more than just the plot.
On top of that, the author conflates spoilers for movies that came out decades ago with spoilers for Game of Thrones while it was on air. Yeah, if someone gets all mad about seeing a spoiler for Invasion of the Body Snatchers, that’s on them, but if you can’t be bothered to include a spoiler warning when talking about the latest episode of an incredibly popular TV show that’s known for its shocking twists? Oops, you’re just inconsiderate, no matter how much you cry “the plot doesn’t matter!!”
Even beyond that, there’s a huge difference between social media and a film studies class. If you sign up for a film studies class, you should expect to be discussing some plot details from important movies. On social media, the expectation is that you consider people who might not have seen the movie you’re talking about, so you include a spoiler warning. It’s not rocket science.
Lastly — this is kind of a weird time for this article to come out, isn’t it? Like, for the first time in ages we haven’t had a huge blockbuster movie come out that people get mad about spoilers for. And I feel like the Spoilers Discourse kind of happened on Twitter a couple years ago and people moved on. But then, looking at the comments section (and recognizing what I’m literally doing right now), maybe they didn’t move on after all.
This is an interesting discussion, so I’ll weigh in.
Overall, I’m inclined to disagree with the sentiment that “plot doesn’t matter” because it’s a bit reductive. And subjective. Each individual person gets to decide how to enjoy the story. Maybe they don’t care about anything other than plot, and that’s fine. Art is open to interpretation, and there’s no thought police telling us how to think about everything.
I do agree with the notion that spoilers shouldn’t ruin the enjoyment of a story, but that’s a very personal feeling. I’ll actively seek out spoilers for the things I like, just to save the hassle of being spoiled inadvertently. And to simply know more.
The problem comes when the choice is stripped from us. When the burden of knowledge is placed on the ignorant, rather than the cognizant.
But that’s indicative of our flaws as a society. We have become insensitive to other viewpoints, and more entrenched within our bubbles. We have the right to discuss things without warnings. Who cares if someone else’s enjoyment is ruined, right?
Wrong. The limits of our freedoms are found within the freedoms of our peers. If someone doesn’t want spoilers, it’s our duty to provide a spoiler free environment.
If knowledge is power, it’s up to the powerful to conform. Not the other way around
I agree with many of the commenters here that avoiding spoilers is a matter of courtesy in our current world of media bombardment, but there is such a thing as taking it too far. After one of the Avengers movies, I posted on Facebook that I liked it. That’s it—no discussion of plot, characters, setting, actors, catering, or anything else about the movie. Sure enough, a couple of people took issue with my posting a simple reaction. I took it down because the headache of discussion with those people wasn’t worth the trouble.
There is a difference between a review of a new book/movie and a class about classic literature. In the class students should expect to discuss the contents of the work. They should be given a reading list in advance so they can actually participate in the discussion because they have already read the book.
Saying spoilers for old works don’t matter is unfair to young people. When new works refer to older ones it is sometimes unavoidable, but just saying spoilers don’t matter if the work is old spoils children who didn’t have a chance to read it earlier.
@40 Brigit
Saying spoilers for old works don’t matter is unfair to young people. When new works refer to older ones it is sometimes unavoidable, but just saying spoilers don’t matter if the work is old spoils children who didn’t have a chance to read it earlier.
But is it also fair to people who want to discuss s book or film to have to tie themselves into knots to avoid a spoiler? How can you have a reasonable discussion having to watch every word?
And saying to avoid the spoiler in the title of a thread: well how and still let the folks who want to discuss these items that the particular topic of the thread might be interesting to them?
As I said above it is certainly polite for a reasonable time after a release to be cautious. But we can’t self-censor ourselves for all time. There will always be people who haven’t seen a particular film or show or who haven’t read a particular book. It becomes incumbent on the reader to avoid things they don’t want to know about.
It’s hard to say that it’s incumbent on readers to avoid something if they don’t have fair warning that they should avoid it. A spoiler label hardly seems onerous.
The terms “spoilers” or “spoilerphobia” might be fairly recent, but the phenomenon is not. We all have only ONE chance to enjoy a story for the first time, and that should be respected.
That said, there is a time and a place for everything. Any in-depth analysis of a book or a movie will by its very nature be full of spoilers, and should only be read after the fact.
@41:
I think it’s far less complicated than you make it seem.
I agree with birgit that saying spoilers for old works don’t matter is unfair to young people. Even though Star Wars seems to be known by everybody I wouldn’t talk about the big reveal of the second movie when talking to a 12-year-old. Rather, I’d first ask if they’ve already seen the movie.
It’s not that hard, before talking about major plot points out of thin air, make sure that those taking part in the conversation are familiar with the movie. If they are not, they can decide if they want to keep listening.
On a forum, I often see a folder labeled “Spoilers” in which all the spoilery things are discussed and might turn up in the title itself. Otherwise, if there’s a thread about a particular film, TV series or book I think that it’s commonly understood that spoilers might occur but one might still warn out of courtesy if the audience is unclear.
Being a person who wants to avoid spoilers, I won’t read that thread in question, or if I read I do so at my own peril of being spoiled.
In short, nobody mandates a prohibition on discussing spoilery material but if you do so just give a warning so that those who don’t want to be spoiled can opt out. Simple.
@21: a half-decent reviewer can provide enough information for a reader to judge whether a work is interesting, without providing spoilers. What @43 describes might still be called criticism, and is still much rarer than reviewing.
@22:
Thank you for that likeness; it’s a neat packaging of my less-coherent reactions to the columnist’s argument.
Points also to the people commenting on the effect of the sheer volume of material. I’m old enough to remember when the MITSFS (which tried to buy all texts) cataloged ~30 books/month — and a fair number of those were second-rate; it was possible to keep up with a large chunk of the genre. Now I think it’s fair to say that an ending was telegraphed a long way ahead, or was unexpected but plausible, or was pulled out of the author’s hip pocket — but specifics mean other people don’t get to follow the path the author built.
I had my tickets for Day 3 after opening of ST: Generations. Was given a major spoiler the day before seeing it.
Overheard the Sixth Sense twist before seeing the movie. Did not know that what I had heard was a spoiler for the Sixth Sense until about 5 minutes into the film. This was in a town with a shortage of theatres and a weekend tradition of going to the video store with friends to pick out a couple movies for Saturday night.
I dodged The Force Awakens spoilers for two weeks, until the day before our new Years’ day tickets came up… and overheard someone talking loudly at the pub on NYE.
My wife has a chronic pain condition and can no longer sit in a movie theatre. We need all our movies on media that we can pause so that she can take breaks. That leaves a huge window of time for inadvertent exposure to spoilers.
One of the TV trailers for The Two Towers showed Gandalf. For a film that introduced a substantial number of non-readers to the story, how is that fair?
Interesting that Sayers was mentioned upthread, since she was involved in an anti-spoiler campaign in the 1920s:
Sorry, but in my view if you go to a board, whoever is hosting it, specifically intended to discuss a particular movie (or book) then it is incumbent on you to be careful. You should assume that there will be spoilers. People are there to discuss the movie.
And honestly, how do you label it? Each thread needs a title or description of which topic is being discussed. Just popping the word “spoiler” as the first word isn’t going to keep someone from reading the rest of the title.
I will agree that a review should be more cautious. But a discussion board is for discussion. Honestly, you should assume every topic is going to contain spoilers. If you don’t want to see a spoiler, don’t go there.
Bottom line, if you deliberately share a spoiler uninvited, you’re removing that person’s choice. Spoilers can be shared with a malicious intent that is borderline abusive.
There’s overlap with the subject of trigger warnings. Some people prefer to receive those warnings in advance.
The sweetness of anticipation can be undercut by spoilers, and I don’t blame anyone for resenting that. Out of respect, I don’t blab.
I think any given Internet site/discussion board develops a reputation over time for whether it is spoiler-free or spoiler care-free, and once that is established it ought to remain true to that reputation. I feel safe when scrolling the Tor.com homepage, since I’m only exposed to serious spoilers in the articles, which I can choose to avoid. That builds an atmosphere of trust. A glaring exception to that would make me feel resentful, and I don’t think the fault would lie entirely with me.
Other observations: In terms of my own choices, I’ve benefited from spoilers for classic literature before reading it; it worked especially well for me with Jane Austen’s Emma, for example. Some pulp fiction has no value left in it if you spoil it. Mystery novels are dead in the water if you know whodunnit (i.e. not just correctly guessed). Twists on cliches, like you see from Brandon Sanderson or George Martin, etc. will lose their punch if you know they’re coming.
For me, reading and re-reading are different pleasures, and spoilers definitely destroy the first pleasure. Which doesn’t mean that the work, itself, loses value, but it does mean that I experience the work very differently. I am not an anticipatory reader. I don’t try to see what is going to happen next, or suss out how the plot must work based on what I know so far. That’s not one of my pleasures on a first read. The first read through, I like to experience the emotional structure unimpeded by expectation. For me, anticipation distances the emotional experience, and I process the work more cerebrally. And so, I really, really appreciate people who put in spoiler warnings, or cut tags to hide spoilers. On the other hand, I am weary unto death of the performative shock of people being angry at spoilers. I really think that spoiler warnings and content warnings have vastly increased my pleasure in reading. However, being dicks about failing to provide such things has decreased my pleasure in the community of readers. So, as you say at the top, it’s complex.
I like not knowing – I don’t skip ahead in books to read the end, and I don’t want my first experience with a movie or book tainted by someone telling me about it. For me, it is a journey and one I want to fully experience and enjoy without the input of another’s opinion.
If I like something, I will reread or rewatch and usually get something further from this re-journeying. I feel knowing the ending can be a letdown. Like when you plan to go somewhere that everyone is raving about, telling you just how much you will like/love going there. But when you get there, your expectations are too high due to others’ opinions, and your experience is a disappointment. This is how I view knowing the outcoming of a book or movie.
I know not everyone agrees with this – in fact, in my own family, my mom and one sister love to know the ending and then want to share what they know. But I’ve noticed that they tend not to finish the books they skip ahead in and fall asleep during movies they know how the climax plays out.
But just as everyone has different tastes in books and movies, we have different opinions on foreknowledge. We should not dismiss or ridicule one another preferences in such a matter.
@48 “One of the TV trailers for The Two Towers showed Gandalf. For a film that introduced a substantial number of non-readers to the story, how is that fair?”
My older sister was one book ahead of me while we were both reading The Lord of the Rings, and she deliberately spoiled the Gandalf story line for me. Needless to say, I don’t appreciate those who through obtuse or sadistic tendencies blurt out plot twists and/or endings of stories that I’ve not yet had the chance to enjoy.
It’s a miniscule sacrifice to watch what you say or type when discussing literature or film.
As I skip past the comment about PIRANESI, which I haven’t read; hold my Keep the Secrets pin from Harry Potter and the Cursed Child; and think about how embarrassed my wife is whenever I cover my ears, close my eyes, rock and hum during trailers of movies I want to see; let me just add that I don’t think it’s a coincidence that spoilerphobia and the remake of INVASION came about at the same time.
One issue regarding spoilers may come from the far more widespread use of unreliable narrators and unconventional narrative turns. They aren’t the exception any more. Or at least enough twist works have come out, roiling the waters of all narrative expectation, that they feel common, making a twist of some sort, if not expected, than at least a possibility
For instance, this is the thrill in particular of the huge boom in “twisty women’s psychological fiction” (an actual term of art) that began with GONE GIRL and GIRL ON A TRAIN. These books are so much about the twists that it’s arguable that Lucy Foley’s THE GUEST LIST isn’t even a novel, just a slow reveal of twists without any character development, after which nothing and no one has changed, merely one person has finally acted (but who? and why? I won’t spoil it for you). One of the many reason the movies KNIVES OUT is so great is how it plays with our expectations of a twist. And David Chase did the same thing with the SOPRANOS finale.
So spoilerphobia will continue until creators once again decide that the hero should remain a hero and win–and stay alive, unlike Ned Stark. What, too soon?
If you don’t want to know how the book/movie comes out, don’t read the Wikipedia article or the IMDB plot summary. Those give away most of the “spoilers”.
Nonetheless, I do put “spoiler alerts” when I review something on Facebook or in an email group.
Just being polite, I guess. Not sure if anybody really cares.
I’m 70 years old. At the age of around 10, knowing I was a big fan of mysteries, someone told me the ending of The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie. It wasn’t done maliciously, this person just assumed I’d read it.
For those of you who don’t know, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd is regarded as one of the greatest mystery novels of all time. When it was written (in 1926), it (and in particular its ending) was considered controversial, but today the particular plot twist used is considered one of the most brilliant in mystery literature.
That reveal ruined the book for me. I finally read the book for the first time just a few weeks ago. I still deeply regret that I couldn’t have had the experience of once reading the book without knowing the ending.
In 1960 when I was told the spoiler, the book had already been out for thirty years. Today, it’s been in print for 90 years. It’s my opinion that even if I were teaching a class on the Golden Age of Mysteries, I’d still mention that I’d be talking about The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, and that for any of my students who hadn’t already read it, if they hadn’t read it before that particular class session, it would probably spoil it for them forever.
My point is there are some twists that deserve to be preserved (and by this I mean that they deserve a spoiler warning) even 100 years or more after their publication.
I remember a Peanuts cartoon where Linus is watching Citizen Kane on TV. He says something that annoys Lucy, and her parting remark is, “Rosebud was his sled.” I think Charles Schulz was particularly perceptive here. Decades before the term “spoiler” was coined, he shows us that spoiler revelation can be an act of hostility and aggression on the part of the one doing the spoiling.
It seems to me that a spoiler warning, even in a discussion forum devoted to the topic under discussion and especially in a review, is a pretty minimal courtesy to extend to those who have yet to read or watch the book or film under discussion. You only read The Murder of Roger Ackroyd or watch The Empire Strikes Back for the first time once, and you should be able to protect yourself from having those particular big surprises spoiled for you if you wish to do so.
One more thing that for me is a primary consideration which I haven’t seen explicitly addressed: The artist that created the film/book/etc. intended it to be received a certain way. Spoilers thwart the artist’s intention. It’s a free country, and you can read or seek out spoilers if you want, but why would you want to? There’s a collaboration between artist and consumer. I think it works best when you’re on the same team.
Oh God, not this argument again.
I reject the assumption that spoilers are about “giving away the plot.” The worst spoilers aren’t plot spoilers; they are character spoilers. The identity of Rosebud is not a plot spoiler. The knowledge that a given character is lying or not who they say they are is not a plot spoiler. Even plot spoilers usually end up being character spoilers, because the plot is driven by how characters behave. So spare me the patronizing claim that not wanting spoilers is all about plot.
Agree strongly with @@@@@noblehunter #1, @@@@@Perene #10, and other comments along the same lines.
@@@@@ nancymcc Yes! And it’s not a coincidence that Piranesi is the first book in a long time that I have wanted to reread immediately after finishing.
There’s an element of ableism (and some related access privilege as it affects various kinds of people) in a lot of these discussions, with the widespread assumption that people can go out and take in new work whenever they want to. But many of us can’t. Auto-immune trouble plus worsening mental health struggles mean I can never safely go to a movie theater. The first time I get to see a new movie (and this has been the case for decades) will be when it arrives in a form I can see at home, for instance. It’s simply not an option.
All kinds of things can slow a person down. A friend of mine is losing the struggle for his eyesight thanks to diabetic retinopathy, and while full blindness is a ways off yet, he reads much more slowly than he used. So do I, for different reasons. I can even quantify it: where once I’d have read three digits’ worth of volumes by this point in a year, now I have 71 books finished, and that includes a lot of stand-alone novellas – my reading speed is off by a third or more, and since I try not to read genre fiction exclusively, and since in times of great stress I do more re-reading…I’m behind. And I’m always going to be behind. Even if I sacrificed all other interests and pushed as hard as I could, I’d be behind on books I’m interested in and authors I like.
There are people in areas with not great libraries and limited income who can’t keep up for those reasons. Someone I know recently lost seven weeks of regular reading time because that’s how long their father took to die after surgical complications on top of years of Alzheimer’s, and reading for pleasure pretty much didn’t happen. I know several friends whose histories include being sexually assaulted who really need to wait for good content notes on whether the next hot new thing has scenes that’ll trigger them (and I mean “trigger” in the clinical sense of PTSD flashbacks and ensuing complications). I know some too who have strong phobias, and need to wait for comparable notes. I know people who have erratic occasional stalkers, who lose the ability to enjoy most fiction in the stressful wake of the stalker showing up, even though they’re otherwise avid readers.
So the fact is that the world of full of good reasons someone may not wish to consume the current hotness, or may not be able to, and I’m really, really sick and tired of all of that being waved away as self-indulgent mania. I wish I could force our dismissers to take in the reality of our lives and explain public why they think we don’t deserve a power of choice over when and how we learn what’s in a work. In reality it won’t happen much, and we will continue to lose out on such opportunities, a significant chunk of our ability to experience our own surprises on our own time by people like the author here, who will apparently continue to feel good about having and using that power over our lives.
It’s not fun.
I did my own experiment 20 years ago – I eagerly sought out spoilers for Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and found them. Then I stopped doing that, and I enjoyed watching the show more. So, I don’t like spoilers because experience tells me I like stuff more when I am spoiler-free.
Thanks for this thoughtful essay. I agree with you – I learned the twist for The Sixth Sense from an interview and it made me want to see it right away, to see how it was done.
…someone should post this on Goodreads. If you even HINT at a spoiler you have to check a box and the review is hidden (and in 5 years I’ve only checked the box on my 1000+ reviews TWICE)
I am one that 100% prefers spoilers. It started when I was reading a book a few decades ago that after it seemed like it would have a good ending suddenly was twisted to a tragedy and quite a nasty one. I now check the endings of books before I read them and I am a voracious reader. For films I ask friends or relatives who have seen them on how they end. I don’t requite a happy ending but want to know what to expect so I can watch or read what I am in the mood for. For me it is the progress through the book or movie that is important to me and knowing the end does not remove my enjoyment
As a voracious reader, I ,probably like most of you, can tune out just about anything. Although the processes of how I read have changed, I’ve only become more averse as I’ve grown older to *anything* that might give away anything but the barest of bones about a story or movie or book or even television. I will look at the title, probably won’t look at the cover, will glance at the cover in a half-lidded glassy stare where everything is just that touch of blurry so that I only get the vaguest of notions to see whether my interest is piqued and then I choose and don’t look back. I don’t watch ads/commercials, reviews, synopses, interview, etc regarding anything that I am going to read, listen to or watch. Occasionally if I’m going to a concert where I feel I HAVE to capture a particular moment in that concert and feel like the rest of the concert is a letdown, I might consign myself to going to setlist.fm and check for when I should come to expect that song in relation to concerts that played in relation to where I am located and go from there so I can capture that moment and move on IE relax and go back to reading.
Basically, I want to be a blank slate. Part of the fun of books and theatre and even television are the games I play in my head, puzzling out what the next line is going to be when I turn the page or the scene ends or something pivotal happens or what the next thing is going to happen or what the ending is going to be or what the character is going to do next. My mind is always going — which I can’t say is a blessing of any kind but that’s how I make do.
Knowing ANY extra information makes all of that stuff going on in my head and the enjoyment I get if I can let myself fall into a book completely and get swept away, well it just ruins it for me. (no pun intended given my nick) I just finished a series and ONE word came through my swift scan that wasn’t swift enough and for six episodes I kept things that stupid word through every fifty minute episode every time I saw that character or that character was mentioned (second or third main character so pretty *&^% annnoying) and then there was the argument that followed with me talking myself down saying I was imagining that I read it. Right? I don’t read those things, I was just remembering something from some other thing. Until I was done with the six episodes and looked and there it was. ONE word. It wasn’t that it ruined it 100%. It maybe ruined it 15%? I’m bad at quantifying; a low number but high enough to have some tangible impact.
I don’t do social media but not for this reason. But, I can’t feel pity or any sorrow or other sympathetic reaction to people who use social media or watch advertisements for shows and think that they aren’t going to get exposed to people regurgitating this kind of information although the super judgy person in me is shocked that there are readers on social media. Seems contradictory but I’ve been reading way too much dystopian rather anti-tech stuff lately so my POV is slightly askew at the moment plus I don’t know really know anyone who uses social media. My social circle is rather small.
BruceB, I feel your pain. I was a book a day reader for the vast majority of my life, save for a short while in my late teens and early twenties where the trainwreck that was my life had no room for libraries let alone money for purchasing books in any form. I had this brief period about five years ago when I started needing reading glasses. I get this is SO VERY trivial compared to your experience but it’s all I have. I hated them. I hated the fact that my house is naturally dark. I hated the overhead of them with all the other overhad that I already had (sunglasses, backpack, laptop, schoolwork when I was trying, books, etc) and somehow that became me not reading. I went on holiday too my regulation six books with me (five nights away), had my bookstores mapped out for when I would need more books (always!) and didn’t read one book the entire time I was gone. Not to or from on the plane, not before bed, not walking around, not while eating by myself, nothing. I then spent about two years where I might have read two or three anthologies and one regular book and that was IT. My (I’m so sorry that my story is so shallow.) hatred of the stupid glasses was so much that I finally understood why all those people throughout my lifetime didn’t understand me. Why they didn’t like to read and how it was hard for them. How it was completely unenjoyable to read anything when it took you two months to read a book.
Sorry for the really long post. Posts like these make me nostalgic for the olden days of the internet when trolls were trolls and were treated accordingly and the unwashed hordes were left to themselves in their own little bubble and the rest of us treated each other, largely, with respect, kindness and love. It certainly wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine but it was a hell of a lot better than it is today. This is where everyone chimes in and says Sayonara Granny. I guess the internet is my walking ten miles in the snow barefoot and eating rocks for lunch – and no spoilers unless they were thoroughly designed for maximum non-spoilage.
It is about basic courtesy.
if someone is telling a joke you know to someone you know hasn’t heard it, you don’t interrupt them to blurt out the punchline.
if someone is doing (shudder) a gender reveal party and you know what it coming, you don’t tell the guests beforehand.
if you know what is in a wrapped gift, you don’t tell the recipient.
if someone is going into Gone Girl without knowing what happens, you don’t tell them.
In all these cases, the initiator of the process has gone to the trouble of hiding something from the recipient. They WANT the recipient to have an ‘oh, wow!’ moment.
To knowingly take that away from them is rude and disrespectful.
#60 and #61 express so much of my feelings on spoilers, I need say no more.
I first saw the word in National Lampoon, in 1971 (unless it was 1970), in an article titled, simply SPOILERS, which gave away twist endings of famous works as a ‘public service’ for those with weak hearts. There was also a section of spoilers of great mystery stories in either Murder Ink or Murderess Ink, made safe from accidental exposure by binding it so that a reader would have to cut the section open to read any of it.
I wonder if the very possibility of spoilers, as we know them, is a relatively new facet in storytelling.
When the ancient Greeks gathered around and someone started reciting the story of Achilles, I suspect that everyone around the fire knew the outline of what was going to happen. The storyteller might throw in a few of their own flourishes, but everyone knew that his story would always have Paris and a fateful arrow. I doubt that people in medieval times were angry at spoilers if someone talked about how Moses died before getting through the whole story of the Hebrews long wander through the desert. In Elizabethan England, the Groundlings at the Globe likely knew what was coming when Caesar entered the Senate.
I don’t think that the classics that have come down to us relied on their shocking twists to entertain. I could be wrong! People might very well have been like “I haven’t seen Hamlet yet, don’t you dare spoil me!” But I suspect that the concept of the spoiler in western storytelling didn’t really start to emerge until novels became popular and available to the masses. By the mid 19th century you definitely had people waiting for the latest chapters in serial novels wondering if Little Nell was dead, and I assume being very angry if someone told them before they had a chance to read for themselves. If this is the case, it seems likely closely tied to the cliffhanger in initial development, as authors of serial novels would want the reader desperate to buy the next instalment to see what happened next.
And so I wonder: is a story that hinges on not being spoiled a relatively new innovation in storytelling?
I agree with 1, 2, 9, 22, 25, 61, 62 and all similar posts, and I am so sorry for 60: Like you, Lee, I have a good memory and spoilers don’t go away.
It is not that hard at all to make non-spoiler reviews. Just respect what is important to people who are not you, and talk to them as if you wanted them to see the movie or read the book for themselves, and not as if you wanted to tell them how much you enjoyed and understood the story.
A single article in a magazine read on an airplane spoiled for me both The Sixth Sense AND Fight Club while they were at the cinema. I was able to appreciate them still, but it is like eating stale cake: you understand how good it must have been when it was fresh, but that is not what you are getting. Whereas, I saw The Usual Suspects without spoilers and every time I re-watch it, I remember that amazing first bite.
So depending on what you spoil, you can diminish someone else’s enjoyment the first time but also make all subsequent times less significant.
In a film class, I understand why it may sometimes be impossible not to spoil. I agree that whatever is announced on the syllabus is fair game, although I also teach literature and film analysis and I manage to avoid major spoilers most of the time. Because even if the book/movie is very old and you think there is prescription, maybe your students, who were born after the book was written or the movie was made, will want to discover it after hearing you speak of it. Maybe you can give them a chance to experience it the way it was meant to and then they will be even more willing to hear your other comments. They might not do so if you seem to entirely dismiss their opinion.
@28, imagine if by talking about The Wizard of Oz, you give someone a chance to watch it for the first time. Do you know how nice it feels when someone who has never seen a movie made before the 21st century tells you: “That movie you recommended blew my mind! I didn’t know they would use color that way!” or just, “I didn’t think I would get so much into an old movie”? You give them a chance to feel and express their own emotions about it and you get to have a conversation instead of a monologue.
I LOVE fiction. Losing myself in a story someone else put their heart (preferably not their greed) into crafting is an ultimate pleasure. I want to enjoy every bit of it my own way.
I do not discriminate (too much): even if the ending is predictable, even if the story-telling is not that great, there may always be something unique to be discovered and treasured somewhere along the way – an unforgettable gem of a character in a novel that is otherwise insipid, an amazing line to live by in the most generic watered-down movie, etc. – but only my thirst for the final denouement propels me through the underwhelming parts until I have devoured the whole story.
Now, I am a very greedy person: I love food and I love stories. Spoilers are like when someone steals that last perfect bite you had been saving, that would make your meal complete but that now taints it forever with frustration and dissatisfaction. I find it tasteless behavior because it ignores other people’s tastes.
I may choose for myself to look up spoilers if a series is dragging and I am starting to have doubts as to whether I should persevere. Depending on how disengaged I feel, I may ask trusted friends to tell me whether it is still worth my time (so many other good things to read and watch), or I may just read articles about it. But this should be my choice and not one somebody else gets to make for me.
And once I know the spoilers, especially but not only if the ending is not a place to which I want to get, I lose all motivation and I generally give up on the entire voyage, forfeiting all the accidental treasures I could have found along the way.
With time, it has become more and more difficult for such an avid reader and cinephile as myself to be surprised and thoroughly pleased with a plot and even by my very favorite aspect of any story, character development. Like an addict in withdrawal, I make do with the small fixes – a mildly original twist, an unexpected turn in a secondary character’s personality – but when a truly unique story comes along, I do what I can to shield myself from spoilers and I don’t see why anybody would want to ruin the really good stuff for anyone else if it can be avoided. If you enjoyed it, why not let everyone do the same?
Once you get past personal preferences, and turn to others, to me is a matter of respect. It takes very little effort to keep someone unspoiled, and it may be a big deal for them. Aren’t we so keen on respecting others in other aspects of our lives? Why not respect their desire to stay unspoiled, even if it’s about a trifle thing (to us)?
In that regard, I didn’t appreciate the couple spoilers (shrug) in this article, as mainstream as they are, although I may understand why the author chose to put them in an article about spoilers.
I often heard (in this kind of conversation): this book is 200 years old, this movie is from the past century, deal with it, everybody should know about it by now. To that, I say: if it takes no effort to you, why treating spoilers carelessly? Who draws the line on what merits no warning? In my limited life I might read up to 6.000 books, if I do little else. Conversely, there’s so much media I can plausibly consume. Why do you arrogate the right to say what I should have read/watched/studied/been exposed to already? If by a miracle (or carefulness) I manage to avoid the details of an old book or TV show, why deprivate me of the pleasure of the first untarnished experience?
I’ve read many classics knowing very little, to nothing, about them, besides they being classics and the broad genre. These are as fresh to me as last week bestseller (with the added benefit that they’ve stood the test of time). Also, I think older people (among which I count myself) sometimes do not have a clear idea of what young generations have consumed. What’s pop culture for us is many times totally unknown to them. Let them discover it in full, eventually.
In practice, I don’t take it as seriously as it may come across from the previous. Still, I’m puzzled by the attitude “I can freely spoil this because it’s old/mainstream, and you cannot take issue with that, so we are cool”. No, we’re not! ;-)
What an interesting point of view.
but I have to defer to what others have already said which is that there is only ever ONE chance to experience a story without knowing what happens. Just one.
As such I do think that spoilers matter. I get the idea that spoilers are elitist but our world is setup this way and accepting spoilers isn’t going to change that.
This idea of experiencing a story once without knowing is also why I tend to read the book before seeing a movie or show so that I get a print experience first
I prefer no spoilers. These days I do not even watch the movie previews because they are so long and show so much you already know the whole thing.
Hitchcock had it right. And when it comes to books I prefer to see it myself, unbiased by other opinions as much as possible.
Although I think spoilers should be expected within certain contexts — I, too, got the Rosebud twist spoiled in a film history class, and that’s fine — I think there’s a difference between a person knowingly entering a potentially spoiler-y discussion about media/art and a person who got deliberately spoiled by someone who thought they knew their media consumption habits better than they did.
Certainly there’s more to enjoy than just surprise when consuming a story, but not every reader/view consumes media in the same way. In big blockbusters, predictable as they may be, I find spoilers incredibly distracting. Other times, I might deliberately seek out spoilers for a book/movie/tv show that falls outside my usual genres, because I need that extra bit of convincing that it would be worth my time. (My Best Friend’s Wedding is a good example of this, because yeah, now I want to watch that!) But the difference is that I am the one choosing to look at spoilers. If it lessens my experience, then that’s fine because I made a choice, and so I’ll live with the consequences.
Outside of discussions or reviews or book clubs or academia, I think spoiler warnings should be used, and people can choose to continue on or not. Maybe I want to enjoy of seeing how an author constructed the narrative without “cheating.” Don’t tell me what’s coming. Maybe I want the pleasure of untangling the narrative myself without anyone telling me what to expect.
I agree with many commenters here that unmarked spoilers are very rude, especially for mysteries and thrillers and other media with a “twist” ending, and they don’t become less rude because the work is old. It’s the genre more than the age that defines spoilers. In a professional review it’s inexcusable.
Much of the issue, I think, is a misunderstanding of what a “review” is and is supposed to be. And this misunderstanding is widespread; I remember my ninth grade English class being assigned oral book reviews and having classmates subject us to lengthy plot rehashings (often with spoilers) in the guise of doing a “review”. I was annoyed when my English teacher didn’t seem to care that her assignment instructions were being ignored or misunderstood and I am surprised Prof Kozloff doesn’t seem to understand the difference between a review and an analysis. Or maybe she is using the term “review” in an academic sense? When you are reviewing a book/movie/etc you are supposed to explain why you think someone should/shouldn’t consume the work and why. Any professional reviewer and semi-competent amateur should be able to do so without spoiling the work. To be blunt, needing a spoiler warning for a review tells me that the review isn’t really a review so much as a discussion or analysis and should be avoided if I am looking for a review. If you want to discuss the plot or characters in detail then you are doing an analysis or discussion and should label it as such. And a plague on marketing campaigns that spoil their own dang works.
Like @16, I first remember the idea of not spoiling people being prominent in connection with The Crying Game. However, I did watch it and loved it and eagerly kept its ‘secret’. There are lots of good comments above that I agree with, so I won’t re-iterate that.
I will say there are minor surprises, and some of the ‘surprises’ in Avengers: Endgame added to my giddiness at the climax, but they would not have mattered as much to the story. (Well, one matters a lot ot me … the rest …) OTOH, I think a true startling twist not only startles you, the reader/viewer, it pulls you deeper into the story by having you register the same shock/dismay/unsettling as the character experiences the twist. A good twist builds empathy between the audience and the characters. Going in knowing every plot nuance can distance some readers/viewers from the material. YMMV, of course.