That sounds like a mind‑bending experiment—kind of like reading a palimpsest where the ending becomes the seed. You’d see foreshadowing as déjà vu, the resolution already settled before the conflict even starts, and the emotional arc would feel like a mirror image. It could expose how much of a story depends on suspense versus payoff, but it might also feel disorienting because we’re wired to build tension, not unwrap it. Still, it would be a fascinating way to probe the structure of narrative itself.

It’s a neat trick, but you’re right – the flip has to be done with care, otherwise you just get a jarring glitch. If you can tease the reader out of the usual narrative ladder, you force them to feel the weight of every reveal as if it were the first thing they saw. That’s when the reverse trick becomes a critique of their own expectations, and then it starts to work. The challenge is keeping the reader’s compass pointing in the right direction while the story’s already pointing back. If you master that, you get a subtle kind of destabilization that’s more unsettling than outright confusion.

Sure, but only if I keep the rhythm tight—every twist has to feel earned, not just a gimmick. I’d start by planting the payoff early, like a foreshadowed promise that the reader will think is the climax, then reveal the “real” beginning right after. That way the reader’s mental map flips mid‑sentence, and the story stays coherent because the pacing still moves forward, even though the narrative moves backward. It’s a delicate dance, but if you can let the reader’s expectations wobble just enough, the whole thing becomes a subtle rebellion that still lands on the page.