That's what happens when you work in an office full of fans of Harry Potter and The Sopranos. As serendipity would have it, last week saw the final instalment of both, as the young wizard's last adventure was launched on the reading public and RTE Two showed what may or may not have been the final moments of the old buzzard of New Jersey.

The determination to avoid any leaks or gossip about how these two great sagas would unfold was impressive.

I was even drafted in as an official reader of newspapers . . . to advise one Harry Potter fan on what publications carried leaks or speculation about which characters were being killed off.

There were plenty, as it turned out, although the Irish newspapers contented themselves with repeating what some foreign publications had done. In this at least, they avoided the wrath of Rowling.

"I am staggered, " the Harry Potter author said, "that some American newspapers have decided to publish purported spoilers in the form of reviews, in complete disregard of the wishes of literally millions of readers, particularly children, who wanted to reach Harry's final destination by themselves. I am incredibly grateful to all those newspapers, booksellers and others who have chosen not to attempt to spoil Harry's last adventure for fans."

Avoiding stories about Harry Potter was a doddle compared to the efforts that needed to be put in by fans of The Sopranos. The series finished in the USA six weeks ago, and every subsequent day brought the possibility that some newspaper, magazine or television show would give the game away.

On 12 June, for example, in an act that reminded you why it is that newspapers are so often despised by readers, the Irish Times published a detailed, scene-by-scene account of the final moments of the series. I managed to avoid it, but reading it back on Friday, it came across as a thoughtless and typically superior attempt to spoil things for readers.

Some of you may be watching The Sopranos on DVD boxsets or planning to wait for the final series until Channel 4 shows it later in the year, so at this point you may want to turn the page in order to avoid details you don't want to know. There won't be too many, though, as we're not so much wanting to rehash the details of the final show as speculate on the reasons why so many people go to such lengths to avoid knowing about plot twists, denouements and finales, and why they're so angry and annoyed when they accidentally stumble upon them.

It's not just about asserting our rights as consumers to be allowed enjoy a book or movie or TV show unmolested by information from the outside world.

Many years ago, the makers of The Crying Game released their movie with a plea to viewers not to spoil the enjoyment for others by informing them of the stunning plot twist that occurs near the end.

One understands why they would be so concerned. If that information had been too easily available, the movie would have tanked.

For mere viewers, it's more complicated.

Many works of art . . . and both The Sopranos and the Harry Potter books certainly merit that description . . .

act as a kind of metaphor for a life, and include an identifiable beginning, a middle period, and an end. People respond to that familiar pattern, recognise it and hear in it echoes of their own existence. If you watch the first series of The Sopranos now, you'll be struck by how young the main character looks, and fascinated at the way his two offspring have matured from children to young adults. Regular viewers who have been with them all the way will recognise the fundamentals of family life, even if the details of the life in question are, for obvious reasons, unfamiliar.

The end of any long-running series . . . and again The Sopranos and Harry Potter have something in common here . . . is like a kind of death, in the sense that it cannot be resurrected, but also because of the way that it reminds us of the inevitable pattern of life.

Everything good comes to an end.

That's a scary thought when we apply it to our own lives, but becomes bearable and manageable when we can deal with it through the prism of a popular work of art.

When those works of art are themselves so concerned with death . . . as Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is and The Sopranos is . . . then the attention and interest increases.

Most of us, given the choice, would like to know the date and manner of our own deaths, all the better to manage them and help our loved ones to deal with the pain. We certainly wouldn't want to read the details in the paper first, or hear them discussed on the television.

Neither do we want people to tell us whether Tony Soprano was killed or whether Harry Potter has met his maker.

That's the kind of information we're entitled to find out for ourselves . . . at our own pace, in our own time . . . and to make of it what we will.

Send Diarmuid Doyle on a long holiday From Paul Edson UNLIKE the letter writer last week, calling for Diarmuid Doyle to get a raise, he should instead be given a long holiday, preferably until the next general election. We may then be spared more of his "Greens betray principles" rants of simplistic, lazy journalism that he obviously pens whilst taking a quick toilet break.

It seems Doyle just cannot (or will not) grasp the simple notion that a party out of government changes nothing, whilst in government it is in a position to try and bring about meaningful change.

Any reasonable political commentator would at least reserve judgement beyond a few weeks on whether the Greens can achieve anything in government. But clearly Doyle has a closed and empty mind on the subject.

Paul Edson, Merchant's Quay, Kilrush, Co Clare.