The final episode of The Sopranos aired last night. I had my prediction. I had my opinion, which I’m not going to share here. But I also have some memories, which I will share.

Memory #1: I didn’t have HBO in 1999, but I happened to be in a hotel when “University” was broadcast. I was smitten.

Memory #2: In 2002, because of “connections,” I attended the premiere of Season 3 at Radio City Music Hall. I had a good seat, because of said connection, and I noticed that a lot of people seemed to be paying tribute to the older, white-haired man directly behind me. I caught a few bits of his conversation “Art Buchwald . . . up at Martha’s Vineyard . . . I just blurbed a book by a young man who’s going to be [the American version of some big-name French writer I’ve since forgotten. Rimbaud?]” Eventually, I deduced that the man behind me was William Styron and I shared that info with a far more sophisticated friend, who stood up, stretched, glanced over her shoulder, and confirmed my hunch.

It happens that the screened episode that night included a sight gag involving Adrianna’s dog, cowering under the table as Adrianna vomited in fear. William Styron LOVED it. He guffawed. William Styron laughed at a vomit joke. I couldn’t have been happier.

Memory #3: Also in 2002, I had some really awful dental surgery. During the recovery, I camped on the sofa and watched Seasons 1 and 2, back to back, and I almost forgot that I had a big honking hole in my gums. Didn’t even need my Percoset. If only for that afternoon, I would always have a soft spot for David Chase.

Meanwhile . . . The word “novelistic” gets thrown around a lot when a television show is exceptional. But very few television shows are storyboarded beyond season one. [Added for clarification -- WHEN PITCHED, very few television shows are storyboarded beyond the first season.] When Chase pitched The Sopranos, he started with the networks, and he knew from experience that lots of television series don’t make it through the first year. HBO does commit to full seasons, but there was no way, going into Season One, that Chase could know exactly how many seasons he would get. (Although, after Season One, certainly after Season Two, I think it was clear that Chase could have as many seasons of The Sopranos as he wanted.) Also, he couldn’t know that Nancy Marchand was doing to die, so if he did have long-range plans for the story, they almost certainly would have been disrupted by that real-life development.

To the extent that a television show can ever resemble a novel, it would have to be the serial novel of the 19th century. David Chase can’t go back and change what has already aired, while the novelist can keep revising, accommodating late-breaking insights into the work. (“If his middle name were Hubert, that would change everything!”)

It is possible, I suppose, that some producers know how they will end their television shows in an ideal world, but the economics of American television dictate that few producers will have that opportunity. The show will either be so successful that it will end up being padded along the way, or it will be strangled in its crib. Perversely, we seem to have more affection for the latter type.