It's a problem I have.

So, I'm still pondering Wicked.

(Pondering = overanalyzing, picking to shreds, tearing leaf by leaf till there's nothing left)

I've gotten caught up reading like every single review of it on Amazon, and by far I'm not the only one wondering why so many hanging plot threads. (I especially enjoyed this review and this one, but again, read at your own risk if you plan on reading Wicked in the future)

I think Maguire was caught up in some kind of postmodern experiment. Two reasons why:

1) Art imitating life. When, in anyone's life, do we get all the answers? When do we ever have it all figured out? To leave so many questions - to have minor characters overstay their welcome and major figures vanish forever - to never grasp the meaning of life, the nature of good and evil - to die a pointless death - that, Maguire is saying, is life. Many readers will hate his depiction because we don't want chaos from a story, we want order. We want a major life that makes sense in the end, with a well-written denoument. We don't, in the end, truly want reality.

2) It would be quite a postmodern thing, simply, to wait and see the reaction of readers to a plot that continually dies, continually jumps in time, continually leaves resolution unrealized. Not unlike the artist who puts a black dot on a white canvas and says 'Art!' It's more about the participant's reaction than anything else.

I find myself defending Maguire because I still remember my reaction to his flawed novel, and I found many of the characters and setting fascinating. However, I still hate the unanswered.

Okay, break's over.

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