The book ends in a welter of images, metaphors, allusions and self-references. This is not to say that it degenerates into a mish mash, but when you want to tie together a lot of loose threads a certain amount of hustling has to happen.
But no one can deny that we go out on a warm and fuzzy note. I don’t know if there’s anything as universally enjoyed as a movie. One could do worse than to walk away from this one with a single solitary thought: that life is a glorified motion picture. As God, we get to produce, direct, star in and, not just view, but take vicarious pleasure in the whole rollicking, swashbuckling story.