Happy ending, nice and tidy
It’s a rule I learned in school
Marc Blitzstein’s translation of Bertholt Brecht’s lyrics to the finale of The Threepenny Opera is laced with irony. Life, the song goes on to say, does not work out so neatly, with Queen Victoria’s messenger riding to the rescue.
In the lively discussion in response to my blog last week about series and in particular C.S. Harris’s Sebastian St. Cyr series and whether Sebastian would end up with Kat or Hero, there was, I realize, an implicit assumption by all of us (including me) that Sebastian at least would have a happy ending. And I suspect he will. Though one of the things that both delights me and sets me on edge as a reader in mystery series, as opposed to romances, is that the happy ending isn’t guaranteed. Which for me as a reader can make it that much sweeter (one of my favorite romantic endings is to Barbara Hambly’s Darwath Trilogy, because it seems so hard-fought for). But also leaves the door nerve-wrackingly open to other possibilities.
I love happy endings. I root for them against all odds, I worry about favorite characters, I rewrite “unsatisfactory” stories in my head. And some of my favorite stories don’t have happy endings, and, I have to admit, wouldn’t be the better for them. I recenty saw the final dress of a breathtaking production of “La Bohème” at San Francisco Opera, which left me thinking about happy endings and genre conventions. “La Bohème” emphatically doesn’t have one (I usually start crying in Act I–this time was no exception). On the other hand, “Rent,” based on the same story, does have a happy ending. I loved “Rent,” but the ending left me completely baffled, and in a sense ruined the show for me. I thought this was because I’d seen “La Bohème” (I saw it with my friend Penny, who also knows ‘Bohème” well and had the same reaction). But I saw the “Bohème” dress rehearsal with my friend Greg (one of the designers of this site). Greg said he’d seen “Rent” before he’d seen “Bohème” and he found the ending of “Rent” jarring as well. I love and adore happy endings. But not all stories, even–perhaps especially–not all love stories, work with a happy ending. When Mimì came in in the last act of “Bohème,” I had a moment of thinking “oh, I don’t want her to die.” And yet a different ending takes something away from the power of the story.
As a writer, I like the possibility of my stories not ending happily, if that makes any sense. I was going to say I don’t think I’d ever write a non-happy ending, but when I thought about it, I don’t think I’d precisely call the endings of Secrets of a Lady and Beneath a Silent Moon “happy.” For one thing, it’s an ongoing series, to the story doesn’t really end. I think I’d call the ending of Secrets “hopeful.” And the ending of Beneath “bittersweet.” Tinged with hope perhaps.
How do you feel about endings? Favorite examples to suggest of happy or non-happy endings? Or something in between? Has a jarring ending ever damaged a book for you? How would you describe the endings of Secrets and Beneath?
This week’s Fraser Correspondence addition is a letter from Lady Frances to Raoul, describing Mélanie’s first ball in the Berkeley Square house.
Tracy Grant - Novelist 
November 24, 2008 at 12:54 am
I confess to liking happy endings in novels, probably because life seems to dole them out sparingly. I also confess to wondering what happens down the line to some characters. Everything is so lovely and yet, you know there will be ups and downs.
Having said that, I also enjoy other stories that you really can’t decide how it will end. It is fascinating to watch characters develop and change through a series especially. There is a tension that keeps me reading.
At the end of Secrets I felt cautiously hopeful. Charles had a tremendous amount to cope with in his feelings for Melanie. My hope is that he has the depth of character to do so.
Donna (who owns Where Serpents Sleep and has not had the courage to read it)
November 24, 2008 at 6:58 am
Thanks for posting, Donna! I always want to know what happens after the end of the novel too. So even though I like happy endings, I don’t really consider the story finished. One reason I love series, and even if a novel isn’t part of a series, I often think about “what happens next.”
And ambiguous endings can be fascinating. I particularly like watching characters grow and relationships play out over the course of a series. Elizabeth George’s series is harrowing but also riveting. I love the “Poldark” and “Palliser” series, both the books and the tv adapattions.
I think “cautiously hopeful” is a good way to describe the end of “Secrets.” Charles has so much to cope with, as you say, that there’s no way the book could have a conventional happy ending. (I actually imagined tragic endings for the book as I was writing it–I didn’t have any intention of actually writing them, but it was interesting to contemplate). I do think Charles has the depth of character to work through his feelings about Mélanie–but it’s not easy, and exploring that is one of the reasons I want to write more books about them :-).
November 24, 2008 at 7:03 am
p.s.
“Where Serpents Sleep” is a great book–do try it!
November 26, 2008 at 1:53 am
I too found the ending of “Secrets” hopeful rather than a clear HEA. I do think Charles and Melanie are beautifully matched and will find their HEA. In a perverse way now that certain secrets have been revealed, their marriage may be stronger because they can deal more honestly with each other. However, by the end of the book Charles has learned that the relationships in his life are far more tangled than he thought. I don’t want to reveal spoilers, but I do feel for Charles as the ground shakes beneath his feet. For all that Melanie has to deal with, I think the revelations in “Secrets” were actually far more devastating to Charles because he was in the dark not just about Melanie but about several others. And now I’ll stop before giving away too much.
November 26, 2008 at 2:23 am
Do you think the revelations were more devasting for Charles because he had dared to let down his guard in a way to love Melanie? Would the betrayal be deeper because of that?
Donna
November 26, 2008 at 4:01 am
Thanks for the thoughtful comments, Susan and Donna! It’s so great getting readers’ takes on my books (I often think the author has the least perspective on a book of anyone :-).
Susan, I figure spoilers are okay on my site as most people come here because they’ve read my books. I usually include a brief warning, but don’t be shy about mentioning details in the course of a discussion. I hadn’t thought about it in quite that way, but I think you’re right. In “Secrets,” Mélanie faces the loss of everything she cares about, but struggling to assimilate devastating new information on the same level Charles is. And as you point out…
(spoiler)
…Charles also has to integrate the revelations about Edgar and Raoul and by extension Elizabeth and Kenneth. The realization of the secrets Raoul has kept from her (and the nature of his feelings for her) hits Mel hard as well, but in the scale, I’d say Charles has more to deal with. He’s the one holding Mel’s hand “as though he was hanging on to his sanity” in one of the last scenes in the book.
November 26, 2008 at 4:04 am
Donna, that’s an excellent question. And yes, I absolutely think the revelations of “Secrets” are harder for Charles because he’s let down his guard and let himself love Mélanie. And he’s not a man who lets down his emotional barriers easily. I don’t know if you’ve read “Beneath a Silent Moon,” but the arc of the book is all about Charles letting down those barriers. It ends with him admitting something to her that he’s admitting to very few people. If Charles had learned Mel’s secrets earlier in their marriage, while of course it still would have been difficult, I don’t think it would have had such a devastating impact.
November 30, 2008 at 3:11 pm
I admit, I tend to seek out happy endings, or at least optimistic ones for my own reading pleasure. And yet some works lose impact if given a happy ending–you can’t imagine them any other way. My sister cites “The Man who would be King” as one example. And wouldn’t towering tragedies like “Hamlet” and “Romeo and Juliet” be weaker if they were transformed into comedies or had their downbeat endings softened?
Plays, though, are a bit tricky that way–the staged/filmed performance often departs drastically from the version on the printed page, and you can get very different impressions from two individual stagings. Olivier’s film of “Henry V” ends on a note of nationalistic triumph, while Branagh’s more recent version reinstates the somber original ending in which the Chorus reminds the audience that what had been won at such cost would be lost a generation later. I find Olivier’s film to be something of a museum piece, but Branagh’s still resonates for me today. More recently, I saw a very effective production of “All’s Well that Ends Well” that managed to pull off its happy ending by acknowledging just how ambiguous and tenuous it was. Up until the very last moment, it looked as if Bertram and Helena would exit separately, married on paper but not really committed, even though she’d fulfilled all his conditions. And then he finally made a real gesture of reconciliation, and I could believe that they might achieve happiness, with time and work on both sides.
I suppose what I’m really in favor of are endings that seem true to what’s gone before. And I really can’t stand endings that jerk me around emotionally: like love stories that have one of the protagonists die violently on the last page, when all the signs have been pointing toward a happy or at least upbeat ending. Bittersweet or ambiguous is acceptable, as long as there’s been some indication all along that things might turn out that way.
Re “Daughter of the Game” and “Beneath a Silent Moon”–I’d agree with those who’d call the ending of the first one “cautiously hopeful.” I haven’t reread the second one recently, but I think one word I’d use to describe the ending might be “confessional” because Charles admits his true feelings for his wife.
November 30, 2008 at 6:25 pm
Stephanie, I love what you say about “ednings that seem true to what’s gone before.” I too intensely dislike endings that seem contrived (and I disliked contrived tragic endings even more than contrived happy endings, because at least in the later case the characters are happy). I love your description of the “All’s Well That Ends Well” production. It’s so hard to pull off a happy ending to that play, but it sounds as though this one would work as at least believably hopeful. Have you seen “Nicholas Nickleby” with the production of “Romeo & Juliet” with a happy ending? (modeled a real 19th century production).
I like “confessional” as a description of the end of “Beneath”–that literally is what happens in the last scene as you say. It’s definitely hopeful as well, but for some reason to me it seems more bittersweet than the end of “Daughter/Secrets.” I confess I’m not quite sure why.
November 30, 2008 at 9:59 pm
Yes, I’ve seen the Nicholas Nickleby version of “Romeo and Juliet”–it’s hysterical, but it also seems to be played very much “tongue in cheek” by the RSC. I wonder how hard it would have been for 19th century actors to have played it straight, provided they knew that the play was originally a tragedy. But then, I don’t know how actors managed to perform Nahum Tate’s “King Lear” with a straight face either. A gig was a gig, I suppose!
“All’s Well that Ends Well” is one of those plays that really needs to be performed in order to convince the skeptical, because it doesn’t exactly leap off the page when you read it. (I reread it before I saw it and found it very slow going indeed.) The production I saw was given an Edwardian setting, which made Helena’s profession as a woman doctor more believable, and lent more credibility to the number of strong female characters in the play. There’s not much to be done with Bertram, who strikes me as one of Shakespeare’s least sympathetic characters, but presenting him as a spoiled, callow boy who needs to grow up–as this production did–may be one of the more palatable interpretations.
Returning to the vexed question of happy and tragic endings, I think contrived happy endings might strike readers as the writer taking the easy way out. On the other hand, contrived tragic endings feel more blatantly, even cynically, manipulative to me–a sort of “shock for shock’s sake” tactic. In the latest entry of a contemporary mystery series, the author apparently killed off one of the three main characters in an explosion on the very last page. Instant wall-banger, according to outraged readers.
December 1, 2008 at 2:56 am
The “Nicholas Nickleby” R&J is definitely tongue in cheek (and utterly hysterical). It must have been very odd, as you say, for the actors who actually performed the happy ending version of Shakespeare tragedies in the 19th century. Talk about difficult character and plot arcs :-).
I used to do one of Helena’s monologue from “All’s Well” as an audition piece (the one she does right after they’re married and Bertram has run off–“til I have no wife, I have nothing in France”). I think Helena is a wonderful character, and I agree that Bertram is one of Shakespeare’s most problematic. I’ve seen a number of productions of the play. Most have tried to make the ending at least somewhat happy. I’ not sure that any of them have completely sold me on the possibility of the characters being happy together. It sounds as though the one you saw might do it. It’s a play I love to see, because it is such a challenge to pull off, and I’m always intrigued to see what the director and actors find.
Characters dying in an ongoing series (whether books or television) can be truly frustrating, particularly if it seems to be done for shock’s sake, as you say (in the case of tv, because an actor is leaving the show0). I haven’t read the mystery series you refer to, but I do read Elizabeth George. And I have to say I think her killing off one of her main ongoing characters in a recent book created some fascinating dynamics that make the series very interesting going forward. It definitely shook things up. I’ve always thought it would be interesting to have an ongoing character turn out to be the murderer several books along in a series. And no, I don’t have any specific plans to do that in my own series, though you never know :-).
December 1, 2008 at 11:34 pm
Interesting that you should have seen several productions of “All’s Well that Ends Well,” Tracy. I’ve only seen one other–the BBC version from the years when they were trying to dramatize all of Shakespeare’s plays. The performances might have been decent, but I found the staging so dull that it was difficult to concentrate on the play itself. But now that I’ve seen a production of it that works, for the most part (it actually managed to make me feel sorry for Parolles–at least briefly!), I’d be interested in watching another, just to see how it compares.
Elizabeth George’s name seems to come up a lot lately when the question of authors killing off major characters arises. I worked my way through her series last year, so I already knew which character didn’t make it through. I can imagine some readers being deeply disappointed by that plot development, but I agree that it does open the door to a wealth of new possibilities. Still, I think it helps that George’s ensemble cast is large enough to sustain the loss of this character; if her core cast was smaller, it might be a different matter.
Dorothy Dunnett did something like that twist you describe in her House of Niccolo series: a character who’d been present from the first book turned out to have been plotting against the hero for years, which was finally revealed in the last book. I still can’t decide whether it worked for me or not.
December 2, 2008 at 7:06 am
I see those BBC productions too, Stephanie. There was some great acting, but overall I found them a bit stiff. I’ve been going to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival and the California Shakespeare Theater (formerly the Berkeley Shakespeare Festival) since I was in my early teens. I see about eight Shakespeare plays a year, so even though I’ve seen Romeo & Juliet and Midsummer more times than the better known ones, I’ve seen all the plays more that once by now (I’ve only seen Henry VIII once on stage and the BBC production, but OSF is doing it next year). They’re also doing All’s Well next year. I think I’ve seen it four or five times, including one production with Annette Bening as an enchanting Helena (the ending worked quite well in that production as I recall, but I was a lot younger and less inclined to question happy endings :-). It has such interesting characters and gorgeous imagery (“bright particular star”), that I always enjoy it, despite the challenges Bertram presents :-).
Regarding Elizabeth George, I do think it helps that she has a large cast of ongoing characters. The fact that she has that large cast is one of the things I love about her books. It much for much more varied and complex dynamics and arcs across the books than simply following one or two detectives. I think killing off Helen was a bold move on her part. It was very sad, but definitely didn’t stop me reading the series.
The twist in the last Niccolò book is a good example. It didn’t work for me, but I think that’s because when I thought back to that character’s thoughts and actions in earlier books it didn’t tally for me with the motivation revealed at the end.