I have read very few books that have made me mad at the end. Usually, I can tell by about 75% of the way if I am either going to enjoy the last quarter of it, or if things are not going to have a happy ending, that the characters will not live happily ever after, and therefore I will not be satisfied when the last page is reached.
I finished such a book tonight. When I reached that last page, I threw the stupid thing across the room. I was already mad for the last half hour of reading it, and the ending just threw me over the edge.
Sarah, when you come in later tonight and question the book lying in the middle of the floor, please refrain from picking it up. It needs some time to sit and think about what it’s done.