Spoiler, or no spoiler

On the definition of spoiler, how they affect the experience of a story, and my thoughts on them.

Rye Youbs

Sep 18, 2024

🟡 Mild Spoilers 🟡

On a scale between mild, moderate, and major, this entry contains mild spoilers for:

Turtles All The Way Down by John Green.

What’s included:

References to the struggles of the main character;
References to a scene in the book.

While listening to the podcast Intentionally Blank by Brandon Sanderson and Dan Wells1, I stumbled upon a concept that I had already heard of: according to research, spoilers don’t ruin the experience of a story.

Actually, in some cases, spoilers seem to improve the enjoyment of a story. It is also true that in others they may lessen it—but the the point is that, surprisingly, they don’t seem to affect the experience of a story as much as we’d think: they can lessen or improve it, but just by a little bit.

Now, I’ll be honest, I haven’t looked much into the research, as my plan is not to debunk or reassert this thesis specifically. I just found the thought intriguing and it prompted me to ask what I think about spoilers—and how do I decide to pick up a book, a movie, or a series.

Because spoilers, depending on how we define them, are often exactly what makes us decide what to consume.

Brandon: I always find it hard to say what’s spoilers and what’s not spoilers. For me—and I don’t know if that’s the case for you—knowing that one of my friends liked the movie is actually a spoiler.
Dan: Really?
Brandon: Yeah. Now, it’s an acceptable level of spoiler, but the more I discover about the movie, the more I will know too much about the movie. […] Like I generally want to know, “Did you like it?”, but I don’t want to know a single thing other: I don’t want to watch a trailer, I don’t want to hear about it, I don’t want to hear that people have problems with it or not. So, spoilers are always hard for me because they’re like, “We’re not going to talk about spoilers” and then a lot of the things that people talk about on podcast such as this I would consider spoilers.
Dan: Absolutely. See, I’m very, very different, in that for the most part I don’t care going into it if I know what happens in the story because I don’t watch it to be surprised. That’s not why I’m there. I’m there because I want to enjoy the characters, or the dialogue […].

Let’s Talk About Black Widow!—Ep. 9 of Intentionally Blank, 00:36 - 01:48

I agree with Brandon: I also have an extensive definition of spoiler. Something as little as knowing that a specific friend of mine enjoyed a book can tell me already something about it—in fact, that single information will often make me more or less likely to want to pick up that book.

That’s exactly how I got into reading Red Rising (on Red Rising: Writing vs. Plot you can find some of my thoughts on it)—it was a series that a good friend of mine enjoyed a lot. I knew nothing of it, other than she liked it and that it was sci-fi, and yes, I consider the genre of a book also a “technical” spoiler. Similarly, I got into reading All Systems Red by Martha Wells, the first book of The Murderbot Diaries, after hearing Patrick Rothfuss (who is unfortunately not a friend of mine, but an author I like) recommending it on a podcast.

Sometimes, knowing just these few pieces of information—the title, the genre, who liked it—is enough for me to decide that I am interested in a piece of media. Once the decision has been made, I don’t want to hear anything more about it.

Many other times, though, I’m not immediately sold. I can’t pinpoint the reason, it’s just a feeling. In those cases, I remember that spoilers don’t affect the experience by much, and may even improve it, so if it’s a friend recommending me a book I’ll tell them to just spoil me away. Or I’ll do my diligent work and look on YouTube for a review or video essay about it2.

Because what I’ve experienced is that a spoiler will be the thing that convinces me to read something. Not always, of course. But that’s, for example, what happened with Turtles All The Way Down by John Green.

Someone had already told me that the protagonist of the book was dealing with mental health issues and that alone, at that time, didn’t interest me in the least. Years later, though, I stumbled upon a video essay, in which a specific scene of the book was mentioned.

In it, the protagonist’s best friend, Daisy, tells the protagonist, Aza, that she’s exhausting. Better put:

“[…] Like, I know you have the mental problems and whatever, but they do make you… you know.”
”I don’t know, actually. They make me what?”
”Mychal said once that you’re like mustard. Great in small quantities, but then a lot of you is… a lot.”

Page 2153

Suddenly, I decided I wanted to read the book. At that point, I knew a few of its plot points, but just like Dan Wells, I didn’t want to read the book necessarily to be surprised (I ended up being surprised anyway). But, mainly, I wanted to experience the story: the dialogue, the characters, and, especially, the emotions. I wanted to know what led to that point of the conversation and what happened afterward.

Now Turtles All The Way Down is one of my favorite books ever—and I got into reading it after getting spoiled.

So, to sum it up, I share both Brandon Sanderson and Dan Well’s experiences: sometimes I want to know as little of possible of a story before experiencing it; other times I don’t mind being told a lot about it.

That said, one thing is key: it must be my decision. Getting spoiled about a story without having consented to it it’s a big no-no for me4.

What about you? Are you part of the spoiler police, or you don’t mind? Are you one of those weirdos who watches trailers? Or are you like me and you listen to rant reviews of stuff you haven’t watched or read?

Let me know by simply replying to this email or leaving a comment—or write me at ryeyoubs@gmail.com!

Take care,

Rye Youbs