I finished reading a book today. Crazy, I know. Beautiful, unexpected, fascinating, moving. Not my kind of book, but I loved every bit of it.
And then I noticed, at the end, a glaring plot hole. Like, a “fridge logic” moment, except I didn’t need to get up to go to the fridge to say to myself “hey, wait a minute.” If thing A and thing B happened, then why did thing C matter at all? Now, I’ll admit, entirely possible I missed something. I was devouring it toward the end, and my eyes might have gotten a little blurry with tears at some point.
But, after setting it down, I chewed it over and I think I’m right. Definitely a big plot hole, right smack in the middle of the emotional denouement.
The thing is, I’m choosing not to care. Other than writing to this to point out that I don’t care. Because I want to try to take this and be a little more general about it, and a little more overt about it. I feel like the older I get, the more I want to forgive, especially when it comes to creative expression. And there are times when, like with this work, I can see the passion and personal energy that goes into a work, and I don’t want to do anything to dim that in the slightest.
Which is also why I’m not naming the book. Don’t want to detract from it in the slightest. And it’s entirely possible that 99% of readers would slide right over the plot hole. So I don’t want to turn anyone away from the book, because I think it’s just that good. And I want to remind myself that it’s okay to forgive these kinds of things, and enjoy creative work in spite of, or even because of perceived flaws.
Life is imperfect and our work can be too.