What’s the worst EVER book ending?
The Washington Post has an article today about readers’ choices for the books whose ending infuriated them. Their readers singled out Gone Girl–I love that book’s ending!–, Cold Mountain, and My Sister’s Keeper (HATED THE ENDING OF IT). It’s a fun question.
I loathe the ending of Atonement and have decided that the book really ends at the close of the penultimate chapter. I love Kate Meader’s Playing with Fire but I hate the ending–I don’t like stories where a hero/ine has to give up his or her dream to have an HEA. I’m trying to think of other romances whose endings I deplore, but am coming up blank.
What do you have for me? What books, especially romances, do you hate the end of?
In the romance genre, I found the worst end ever in *Another Dawn* (1985) by Sandra Brown. It’s the second book in a duology. SPOILER ALERT. The heroe of the previous book dies at the end of the second one. END SPOILER. It’s so awful that I still remember it decades later
I had a lot of problems with quite a few Woodiwiss books even at the time.
The ending of a few of them was totally horrible, because heroines stayed with guys who had been utterly revolting over the book and had no change of attitude or breakthrough moment. They were faithless, lying, they distrusted the heroine and left her in peril, there was quasi rape, etc etc. and none of it ever really got “expiated” and the heroine was happy to get that guy at the end because she loved loved loved the jerk, so all was good.
I think there were other books like that, at the time, but those guys were really the worst.
One thing that hasn’t come up yet is when one member of the couple, who has clear issues, does not progress far enough in their emotional journey in order to be a healthy partner. And the person who is healthy in the couple just leaps ahead and is willing to proceed with the relationship when there is a good chance it won’t work out. I just finished The Bookish Life of Nina Hill, and I did not like the ending because Nina had some pretty big issues to work through, and in my opinion it was very rushed at the end. Yes, she had an epiphany or two, she took a few steps, and the love interest, Tom, was willing to proceed with the relationship, even potentially narrowing his life to accommodate her issues. I know in real life that happens all the time, but in my fiction, I want to have a stronger sense that the couple is solid and connected and meant to be. A counterpoint to that was Mary Balogh’s third book in the Westcott series, Someone to Wed. I felt Wren’s issues were handled very sensitively and she worked on them the entire book. Since it was a marriage of convenience, Alex was willing to be accommodating but also set some clear limits as to how far he could accommodate her, and they discussed and renegotiated them throughout the story.
I think this is a great point! I usually read historical romance but when I do read contemporaries and one or both of the leads have emotional obstacles/struggle with mental health issues, I often get distracted by the absence of therapy!
Agreed. Eleanor Oliphant is another that comes to mind. That wasn’t a romance per se, but I just couldn’t understand what the guy saw in her because she was a real mess.
“co-sign”
I also dislike the ending of Where’d You Go, Bernadette? All that drama and then she’s just fine and j chillin’ with the penguins????? So irksome.
I nominate “Cutting for Stone” by Abraham Verghese. Until the end I loved the book; the Ethiopian sections were fascinating and the twins’ life stories were compelling. The ending, however, had too many Dickensian coincidences and was melodramatic to the point of unbelievability.
Oh yes. That, like Atonement, is such a superb book. But then the ending just went boom in a not good way and brought it down.
Worst ending ever was from a fiction book I read this summer:The Lonesome Trials of Johnny Riles by Gregory Hill. It’s about a young man in 1975 who struggles with alcohol addiction while single handedly running the family ranch after his parents suddenly moved away and his younger brother leaves to play on a pro basketball team. The book was fascinating until the end. Spoiler
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EVERYONE DIES. All the main characters. All. I paged backwards to see if some pages were stuck together. I paged to the end to see if pages were missing. Nope. In the last two paragraphs, they all die. I was PISSED. Johnny was finally getting himself together. Grrrrrr.
I call that “pulling a Blake’s Seven” after the old British sci-fi show.
I’ve had that happen with TV shows I have watched and it just feels lazy and disrespectful to the audience.
Sounds a bit like “Postcards” by Annie Proulx. Pretty much everyone in the family dies a nasty death (e.g., cancer, exposure in a New England winter), some of them after getting their lives together when things seem to be going their way. Some of the characters deserve their endings but some don’t. The writing is beautiful (it is, after all, Annie Proulx) but it was a depressing book.
This reminds me of A Thread of Grace by Mary Doria Russell. I recommend all her books, this one included. ATOG is a WWII story set in Italy. She said in an interview somewhere that when she was writing it she flipped a coin to decide whether each character was going to live or die by the end of the war. She wanted to simulate the randomness of real war. This leads to some unexpected endings that truly do feel tragic in the way that war is tragic. It was unsettling for me as a reader. Overall, though, not a disappointing ending and a very good book.
The worst ending of a series for me was Never Judge a Lady by Her Cover by Sarah MacLean. I had been soooooo looking forward to it as I LOVED the first two books in the series and liked the third. She had set up a marvellous scenario for an intriguing end to the series and then it just didn’t deliver for me in so many ways.
I felt she overdid the amount of dressing-up and disguises used by the h, one of the secondary ones being particularly implausible. From memory, one of the main plot points revolved around blackmail and that got solved much too easily near the end. I remember thinking, “What, that’s it?!” But, above all, the two MCs, who had been presented as interesting in the previous books, just came over as so boring.
I can remember feeling so disappointed and thinking what a wasted opportunity it was.
Agree!
Hi. This book is not a romance but …the book with the worst ever ending is The Lovely Bones !!!
I dislike that ending too!
I hated that whole book. That might be the book that made me think ‘never pick up anything recommended as “a book club choice” again.’
Wendy F, I felt the exact same way about this series! Book 1 was my favorite and I could see the build up to book 4 throughout the series but it just wasn’t that interesting a book.
Any number of Catherine Coulter books. Most of her heroes could die of an embarrassing rash and I’d cheer.
I’m surprised nobody has mentioned the obvious to me first choice: A Knight in Shining Armor by Jude Deveraux–a whole book developing a relationship & then reincarnation!?! (I have read and enjoyed F&SF stories with reincarnations, but they aren’t sprung at the end out of the blue.)
Regarding A Civil Contract (discussed above), I think of it as an anti-romance, or at least anti-romantic.
I really thought Whitney, My Love by Judith McNaught had a very iffy HEA given the jerk “hero”.
In F&SF, the Pullman trilogy was good until about the last 100 pages of the last book, which seriously disappointed me.
If I’m remembering the right book, “Los Angeles: A. D. 2017” (SF from many years ago) by Philip Wylie ended with the whole book having been a dream (literally a cliché for a bad ending).
What didn’t you like about the Pullman ending? I’ve been thinking about it a lot as I await the third book in Lyra’s second trilogy.
I only read it once back in 2003, but I recall the Pullman Dark Materials trilogy as an opening / expanding / exploring / developing / discovering story for about 1,000 pages followed by a final 100 pages of a closing / contracting / retreating / limiting story.
Interesting.
Unlike a lot of people, the ending to A Knight In Shining Armor didn’t bother me so much. For me it made sense that the heroine would be happier with someone in her own timeline who had the soul of her 16th century love.
I think the problem was Jude Deveraux made it seem like it would be just so easy for the heroine to adapt to the 16th century or for a 16th century guy to love the 20th century once he found the right dark ale to drink.
There was really no need for the hero to be a contemporary guy when she showed Douglass romping around in the 16th century when she probably would have been dead of dysentery or a hundred other things and everyone there would be missing their teeth and not the movie star handsome people she describes.
I read A Knight in Shining Armor for the first time this summer and I’m not a fan, but here’s what I think that novel is doing…
On a fundamental level, A Knight in Shining Armor is arguing that women in the 80s have it really, really rough. They’re expected to fulfill all the traditional duties as housewives, hostesses, and eventually, mothers, but they’re also supposed to have incredibly successful, high-achieving careers outside the home. All of this is 100% fair. Jude Deveraux also argues that contemporary feminism (“women’s lib”) is responsible for these unrealistic expectations and impossible obligations.
When the heroine time travels to the Elizabethan age, she loves it because she’s freed from those expectations. The heroine is relieved to have escaped the 1980s and the demands of… feminism. As you pointed out, THERE ARE TONS OF PROBLEMS WITH THIS. However, if Deveraux meaningfully acknowledges the flaws, her argument falls apart. Alternatively, Deveraux is comfortable with the trade-off: dysentery, significantly lowered life expectancy and shockingly poor dental health for lowered social expectations for women. The problem you noticed — the novel’s “historical inaccuracy” — is actually baked into the cake.
When we talk about “historical accuracy” in today’s historical romance, we usually discuss the insertion of progressive values into a historical narrative. A Knight in Shining Armor is fascinating since it does the opposite, Deveraux inserts a deeply conservative perspective into her historical narrative.
It’s been years, probably into decades since I read AKISA so I’m going off of pure memory here. I remember enjoying it at the time because it was really different than a lot of what was being published and it was also different from Deveraux’s older books where most of the guys were just complete jerks (I think in one Medieval one the “hero” hits the heroine).
This book kind of turned the corner for her style (as I recall) ushering in some nicer heroes. By the time of “Sweet Liar” she was writing pretty nice guy heroes.
I do remember Douglass saying something about how she felt guilty when she served her jerk boyfriend frozen pizza for dinner instead of cooking from scratch-but she was such a tremendous doormat (to the point it was just over the top crazy) I confess I wasn’t looking for real world applications. I just thought Deveraux had overdone it on the “beat down heroine” so her transformation would be that dramatic. In the end isn’t it supposed to be he was so awful because they were influenced by past lives and he thought she was secretly rich and resented it? I know by the end he’s sorry and apologizing.
I do think she was probably commenting on how modern women were supposed to be and do everything but I am not sure that her answer is go back to the past. She disappointed a lot of readers by having Douglass (Dougless?) remain in present times and meet the architect with the soul of her true love. A lot of other authors just kept the heroine in the past- including Linda Howard and Diana Gabaldon.
It’s been so long now I feel like I need to read it with fresh eyes and some new perspective. I’ll have to see if I held on to my old original hardcover of this book! (Yes I’m old).
Oh, that’s helpful context! A Knight in Shining Armor was my first Jude Deveraux and I didn’t know that it marked a shift in her heroes. If I had read it when it was originally published in 1989, I think I would’ve enjoyed it too. I like time travel, medieval settings, and watching jerky ex-boyfriends get their comeuppance, which are all things that Deveraux does with great style.
Deveraux definitely intended to create an extremely passive heroine. I have the re-issued mass market paperback and in it, there’s an author’s note in which Deveraux explains her inspiration for the novel. She had read an article that explained a theory of an “alcoholic personality” (what we’d probably call narcissistic personality disorder today) so she created a relationship dynamic between a heroine and a sober intimate partner who had this “alcoholic personality”. Deveraux meant Dougless’s doormat tendencies as a result of Richard’s bullying and sly manipulation.
Ultimately, yes, Dougless is forced to return to the present and stumbles upon her reincarnated lover. To me, that means that Deveraux’s message about reincarnation and the unfinished business of past lives supersedes her argument that the Elizabethan age is a relief from the expectations of contemporary womanhood/the demands of “women’s lib”. But her argument is no less explicit for being secondary:
P.s. I think it’s extremely cool that you have the hardcover edition! :)
Well I checked and I did keep it (along with some others of hers Mountain Laurel??) so it’s definitely getting re-read!
My undergraduate degree is in history and I think it’s hilarious that Jude Deveraux thinks the 16th century is the time and place to go for women, even women of means to have it easy. I could even maybe allow an argument for a really well off woman of independent means in the 19th century but even that’s a stretch.
The earliest period I’d muster any enthusiasm for living in is the the 20s.
If I’m being totally honest I never want to live in a world without antibiotics, modern surgery, vaccines and anesthesia. I won’t even get into dental care, yeesh.
Yay!! I can’t wait to hear what you think. It’s got a lot of stuff in it and it’s a bananas ride (I mean, hysterical crying is the mechanism of time travel!).
TOTALLY AGREE. If I had to choose between life in the 1980s and the 16th century, I know which one I’d go with.
So many books, so little time! Maybe I do want to be one of those historical ladies who don’t have to work but can just sit and read (and sew I guess) lol.
LOL, I think that’s just called “being rich” and isn’t specific to a certain time period. But yes, sign me up for the sitting-and-reading-romances “sewing circle”, hahaha.
I can’t believe I’m going to defend A Knight in Shining Armor because it really wasn’t my thing, but… the ending made a lot of sense to me. In addition to romance novels, I love Korean television dramas and in fantasy romance shows, it’s common to see two leads fall in love based on their connection in a previous life or one lead may be a semi-immortal supernatural creature searching for their reincarnated lover in the modern era. I’ve also seen time travel K-dramas that resolve in exactly the same way as A Knight in Shining Armor.
If you believe in past lives or reincarnation on a cultural, spiritual, or religious level, these relationships aren’t really happening between new or different people — they’re operating as a continuation of the same relationship. Which, I’ll admit, can be a tough idea to get used to.
From what I’ve learned, Jude Deveraux seems to believe in past lives and reincarnation (or did then?) and there are Easter eggs in A Knight in Shining Armor that tip off the reader of her final move (the girl the heroine befriends in the Elizabethan era has the same face as her ex-boyfriend’s daughter in the 1980s).
Have you ever seen the Kenneth Branagh-Emma Thompson movie “Dead Again”? It’s a mystery from the late eighties or early nineties and it deals with reincarnation. It has a pretty great cast including Derek Jacobi, Andy Garcia and Robin Williams in supporting roles.
I saw “Dead Again” when it was released and enjoyed it. Thanks for reminding me as I’ll now put it on my watch list and hope to enjoy it again.
I saw it in the theatre too (way back when) and it definitely had some good twists and turns.
I saw it in the theater when it came out and adored it but have never seen it again. I remember the ending as being a bit convoluted.
NO, I haven’t! But it looks CRAZY! Love all their American accents, haha. Definitely want to watch this now. Past lives were so trendy in the 90s. What was going on??
Well we were all a little crazy in the 90’s. Just kidding, but you can trace the 90’s to the beginning of the mainstreaming of a lot of ideas that were a little too “out there” for folks before that. “The Craft” and then the TV ripoff of it “Charmed” popularized Wicca and made it much more palatable for the masses.
I live in a state that has had official “witches” long before Wicca got popular across the globe- Laurie Cabot being the unofficial spokesperson for the movement since the early 70’s. They would interview her on TV shows every Halloween season or for specials about witchcraft but she and the movement were not considered “family friendly” or socially acceptable by most people until the 90’s the earliest. By the late 90’s you had Godsmack or Sully Erna featuring Laurie in videos and popularizing the religion more.
It used to be largely based around Salem and for a lot of people it still is, but it’s spread out across the globe now and into every kind of popular fiction.
Stories (mostly F&SF) that I recall (could be wrong) as including reincarnation:
Some of the Immortals After Dark series by Kresley Cole
Race the Sands by Sarah Beth Durst
Some of the Night Huntress series by Jeaniene Frost
The Nevyn series by Katharine Kerr
Cloud Chamber by Howard L. Myers
Lord of Light by Roger Zelazny
Stories with elements close to reincarnation:
Some of the Cassie Palmer series by Karen Chance
Flight from Rebirth by J. T. McIntosh
Transmigration by J. T. McIntosh
I’m sure if I took more time I could recall others.
Oh, cool! I’m very, very slowly making my way through Kresley Cole’s “Immortals After Dark”, but I don’t think I’ve gotten to any books in that series that deal with reincarnation yet.
It’s featured prominently in “Dreams of A Dark Warrior” which is probably my least favorite of the series. Not because of the reincarnation aspect but the hero in his latest incarnation is just awful.
I did really enjoy the series as a whole though. I think I have a couple left to go back and read but I enjoyed them a lot.
My dissatisfaction with endings is apt to be less with the couple and more with the inadequate punishment of the villain. My bloodthirsty self is exasperated by a shower of love and forgiveness for villains who deserve boiling in oil. Carla Kelly and Jo Goodman do this. The villainous father in Jo Goodman’s The Price of Desire, a despicable creature who deserves death by a thousand cuts, is simply told to stay on his estate and never leave it.
“My bloodthirsty self is exasperated by a shower of love and forgiveness for villains who deserve boiling in oil.”
I can totally relate to this. I remember reading the women’s fiction novel Julia’s Chocolates (just a so-so book) where the highly abusive ex-fiancé villain has been threatening the heroine throughout the story in an escalating fashion that builds up to deliveries of dead, mutilated animals gets off with…
is there a fanfic category where we re-write endings so the bad guys meet grisly ends? :-D
I don’t know, but it sounds like there should be. ;-)
I would also like to see Amazon or some other company bring back Kindle Worlds where authors can share revenue from writing in each other’s fiction universes. I.e. legal fanfiction for pay. Unfortunately, the copyright issues must have been a bear to deal with. From a business/legal perspective, I totally get why they axed the program. Still, it would be nice if self-published authors- or even traditionally published authors- had a platform for fan fiction revenue sharing with fans.
That’s true but had he been jailed, he’d have further damaged his damaged kids lives. Should he have been killed? Hard call for me.
YES. I wonder if this has to do with the author’s faith. Forgiveness, particularly of one’s enemies, is a huge tenet in Christianity.
When I saw this post for the first time, my first thought was about villains in historical romance too. I’ve definitely seen them forgiven/treated too generously, but I’ve also read where the villain is killed and it seems as if the hero or heroine, who were either responsible for the death or witnessed it, felt nothing afterward. It strikes me as a terrible tone shift to have the hero/heroine commit a murder or watch someone die, then ride off into the sunset together. It’s so strange.
It seems to me that you have a right to forgive people who have harmed you. I may think you are a bit soft in the head, but that’s your right. You have no right to forgive people who have harmed others, and the heroine is not usually the only one who has been harmed. That is certainly the case in The Price of Desire—a pedophile did not limit his attentions to his own daughter. To be satisfying, the punishment must in some way fit the crime.
(This must sound pretty nasty, but I’m really not a vicious person.)
“This must sound pretty nasty, but I’m really not a vicious person.”
Lil, I don’t believe for a minute that you’re a “vicious person.” I know that in many cultures and religions, forgiveness is supposed to represent the higher road, but I think a lot of this ideal is unnatural and in some cases, downright insulting. I mean, sure. For petty stuff that festers into ridiculous grudges, forgiveness can definitely be the right path. But when we start talking about serial killers, child abusers, and the like, that’s a totally different story as far as I’m concerned.
Yes, I agree — it’s important for reader catharsis that the villain’s punishment fit his/her crime. I’ve also definitely read books where the antagonist is let off too easily (like in your example) or he/she is killed in a manner that doesn’t seem to fit the tone of the novel overall or the concluding scene in particular.
I also think it’s interesting that forgiveness is a central part of Christianity and there are authors who are practicing Christians who write non-inspirational or mainstream romance and there may be a link between the author’s faith and the generous or forgiving treatment of villains in some romance novels. I don’t see this as bad or good per se, but just…a possibility?
I’m assuming you mean that one doesn’t have right to forgive those who have harmed others by undoing the nonforgiveness of the harmed, right?
Because we all have the right to forgive, in our hearts, whomever we choose, I think.
“Because we all have the right to forgive, in our hearts, whomever we choose, I think.”
Of course. I don’t want to speak for Lil, but as for myself, I think the real problem is when there is external pressure to forgive. Forgiveness can only come from the wronged person, if that person chooses to forgive. In the case of the terribly wronged, I would certainly never blame someone who chose not to be forgiving. If that person forgave someone who did something egregious, I might raise an eyebrow, but that would be their choice- even if it wouldn’t be the choice I would make.
Yes. We need to remember that forgiveness comes from inside us and that shouldn’t be dictated by anyone else. Even subtle pressure to forgive is an insidious and dangerous form of gaslighting.
Women especially throughout the ages have been pressured to “forgive.” And that forgiveness is generally accompanied by, “Now that it’s all better, you have to continue to deal with that person in your life.” That leaves women (children, etc) in a dangerous place too often. Even if they are not left having to interact with those who wronged them, in too many cases that is the end of emotional healing. Anger and emotional pain,PTSD, or whatever you call it doesn’t go away when you chose to forgive someone. And too often those around you are ready to close the door on your pain and healing, even getting angry if you still struggle with the after effects.
Forgiveness is a personal matter and no one should ever be pushed to it.Usually the people pushing for it just want their own lives to be easier. Plus when someone does forgive, they very well may not chose to forget, and they may still want to see the person punished.
Ok. I’ll step off this particular soapbox now.
“Usually the people pushing for it just want their own lives to be easier.”
I once knew someone like this. His modus operandi was to say, do and take whatever he wanted, no matter how you felt about it. Then, when he saw that you were hurt, he’d say he was sorry, and it wouldn’t happen again.
After that, the onus was on you to forgive him. After all, he’d done his part, he’d apologized, and only a mean-spirited person would keep holding a grudge. So let’s put the matter behind us and move on. Until, of course, the next time it happened all over again.
I finally broke the cycle by ending my relationship with him. After a few years, his brother emailed me asking me to reconcile with him because he was getting older. I wanted to say that forgiveness was not an obligation, nor was it Social Security – you don’t automatically get it when you’re old enough. But I’d decided not to have any contact with his family, so I simply blocked the brother’s email address and moved on. I’m so relieved I don’t have to deal with that sort of manipulation any more.
So sorry this crap happened to you.
“I wanted to say that forgiveness was not an obligation, nor was it Social Security – you don’t automatically get it when you’re old enough.” Good words to live by.
This might be overreaching the conversation a bit, but I think there’s a real cultural problem about phony apologies and equally phony forgiveness that starts in early childhood. I cringe every time I hear some stressed mother shout at her child, “Say you’re sorry!” Ugh. That is such a bad message to teach kids. I know, I know. You’re trying to teach social graces while you’re burned out as f—. But I don’t think it’s a good thing to foster saying “I’m sorry” as a kneejerk reaction and then make the other kid say, “That’s okay-” also as a kneejerk reaction. When the ritual keeps getting repeated and reinforced like this, it’s just a meaningless phrase exchange that continues into adulthood. Sometimes, it’s better just to play separately for a while and let things blow over- and that goes for grown-ups too.
Thanks, Nan. The whole experience was a lesson in recognizing and avoiding a very manipulative tactic disguised as something virtuous. True remorse is when you don’t just say the words, but do the work as well.
I agree with you about making kids say I’m sorry when they don’t mean it. You do want kids to acknowledge when they’ve wronged someone, but it takes more work than just getting them to mumbled,”sorry.”
That was my first husband in a nutshell. He said “I’m sorry.” so now it was my fault if I was still upset. It was a verbally and emotionally abusive marriage.
Forgiveness is an interesting concept all around. First off, it’s not a magic phrase. Even if you want to forgive someone and move on, chances are it will be a process, a few steps forward and a couple steps back. Anger will probably resurface at times. This is why it is so important to have the time to go through healing without everyone telling you you should “just forgive.”
Secondly, and perhaps inversely, you not forgive someone, and still go forward, release the anger and find peace. There are people in this world I never want to see again. I don’t want or need revenge. I just want nothing to do with them.
Beyond the forgiving, which I agree is every person’s individual right, I am always thinking about society. We don’t just lock people up to punish them we do it to protect society.
There have been cases where the family of a murder victim will forgive the murderer for their own peace or other reasons but it doesn’t give the killer a get out of jail free card.
This is compounded a thousand times with cases of sexual abusers, especially with children. If someone’s compulsion is so strong or their moral compass is just so off or they are just so damaged from their upbringing they can be a permanent risk to the rest of society. And while you may not want to see them tormented you also can’t risk them preying on more innocents.
Yes, as I say down below I’m not just interested in vengeance I worry about society. It’s not just about punishment, it’s about protecting other innocents.
Someone who snaps and murders an abuser or even someone who commits a crime of passion, no matter how awful, isn’t the same risk as a serial abuser, molester or someone with an history of violence etc.
Chrisreader, I totally agree with both of your comments about the need to protect other members of society from harm and the differences between crimes of passion and ongoing risk.
Getting back to fiction for a minute, I wanted to add that I think there’s a societal pressure to have protagonists be more forgiving than they probably would be in real life. You see this in films and TV shows too where the hero has to save the bad guy from falling off a cliff at the last minute- or at least try to- to look more moral than the other guy. Personally, I wouldn’t think any less of a protagonist who just lets the villain whose been trying to kill him throughout most of the story fall off the cliff without a moment of hesitation. Unfortunately, I think Charles Bronson-esque heroes are a bit out of style…
I dunno. A lot of us in real life are very forgiving.
Where I live, there is a very famous and horrifying case of a young woman who was horribly, randomly, murdered brutally by two young sociopaths. The DA was going to go for the death penalty.
But the family was adamant that the young men NOT be sentenced to death and they have spoken at length about how the only way to live through and past such a nightmarish event is to focus on forgiveness and love.
This case is not an anomaly.
For me, anger and rage are such destructive emotions that they never make me happy. I’m a forgiver and that works for me. I don’t diss those who long for vengeance–many in my family are far more Hammurabi than I am.
“A lot of us in real life are very forgiving.” Yes, that’s true. I remember reading a harrowing account of a young woman who survived the Rwandan Genocide. She attributed a lot of her survival and sanity during those cramped months of hiding in a bathroom with seven other women to her faith and ability to exercise forgiveness afterwards. (The book is called Left to Tell if anyone is interested.)
What I’m trying to say here is that, yes, I see the value of forgiveness. But at the same time, I understand the longing for vengeance. What I don’t like is when hurt and angry victims are portrayed as being as bad as those who hurt them because they don’t rush out and forgive their assailants. That’s when I think the cultural favoritism toward forgiveness becomes a problem- when victims are expected to forgive or treated as bad guys for holding what may be a very understandable grudge.
Agreed.
I would fight the death penalty as well, because I am against it in any case, but that doesn’t mean I would forgive. I would want to see the perpetrators punished to the full extent of the law, short of death.
I also don’t buy into the elevation of forgiveness as a virtue to be sought above other things. No one should be made to feel guilty for not forgiving. That’s gaslighting. And, believe it or not, forgiveness is not necessary for someone to let go of the pain and suffering, or the anger. I do believe that living in constant anger is destructive to oneself, so I ascribe to the philosophy of radical acceptance, letting go of things I cannot change. Believe me, you can do this without forgiving.
I thought of another ending that I didn’t like: Sarah Pinborough’s BEHIND HER EYES. I suspect Pinborough knew the book’s ending was, um, problematic because I seem to recall there were attempts to stoke up interest via a Twitter campaign along the lines of “Wow—what about that ending, huh?” Up until the last chapter, BEHIND HER EYES was quite a good psychological thriller about a woman who befriends another, unaware that the new friend is the wife of the man with whom the woman having an affair. In addition to the wtf-ery of the ending (I don’t want to spoil things, but there’s a paranormal element), there’s also the implication of definite danger to a child—and that’s very much a hard no for me.
I know it’s much beloved but I loathed the Darkangel Trilogy ending. I could not believe I invested three books of a heroine overcoming her enslavement and achieving her lifelong dreams only to have it completely undone in the final pages. What?!!
It wasn’t the ending of a book, but it was the last book in a series. Karen Kijewski’s Kat Colorado mysteries were pretty good…she spent all the books building up a relationship as part of the overall story arc of the series.
Then, in the last book, spoiler…
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At the beginning of the last book, she killed off the male lead very abruptly (I think you found out on on page 5 or something). There was no foreshadowing in previous books, no hint it was coming…he just…died. I stopped reading the book right there, and if I recall correctly, the author got HUGE blowback for it. She may be writing under another pen name, but I don’t think she ever released another book under that name.
I’m not sure if she really hated the series by then, just wanted to kill it, or otherwise harm her writing career, but it was definitely an epic way to blow up a series or career.
Charlaine Harris did something similar in one series of hers I read. It wasn’t the last book In the series but I didn’t know it at the time (pre-internet days). I remember just feeling like I had the rug pulled out from under me. Luckily she was in mid arc with the books so I was happy eventually with how things went (and was how I suspected what she would do with Sookie Stackhouse).
Sharyn McCrumb did exactly what Kijewski did with a mystery series of hers, only she followed up with one more book after just to make sure we knew that heroine was in bad shape so she could be left there. I really don’t understand authors who do things like that.
Charlaine Harris’s decision upset me at the time but I later saw it was part of the arc for the character, halfway through her journey, and she had put in enough clues that the “hero” up to that point wasn’t the greatest guy, or necessarily the greatest guy for the heroine.
I remember the Kijewski uproar even though I didn’t read the series and I was pretty shocked that the author’s excuse was something like she “had” to write that and that it was pretty much the only way the story could have gone. It seemed many, many people disagreed.
I think that was part of the blowback — she had no real excuse. I do remember that she said something like that, which really made it worse. And while I didn’t read the book, I skimmed the end, and there was really no actual reason story-wise, as far as I can see. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a real life reason she wanted to do it. Either that or she really didn’t anticipate her readers’ reaction.
I remember this! I’m a big mystery reader and at that time was a big reader of all the female investigator series (big explosion a’la Grafton, Paretsky). I was so upset with what Kat K did, but think it was compounded because I think there were a few other authors who did the same thing around the same time (Charlaine Harris I think was one and cannot remember the others). So series I’m following for the strong female protagonist, but also enjoying the slow build relationship pieces of the books and boom, kills off the guy.
Aggravating and totally unnecessary as it wasn’t like the guy was interfering in their investigating. I think the authors thought it would be some kind of dramatic, shocking thing, but it was too much, especially as several happened at the same time.
I totally agree. I think the lack of foreshadowing or any hint of it made it so much worse. If I recall correctly, at the end of the previous book, they got married. Then I start reading the last book, and boom! I think that was the most pissed I’ve ever been with an author. For the most part, I give a fair amount of latitude to authors to do what they want with their characters — yes, I have a stake, but I’m the reader, so to a large degree, my vote is minor. I’ve felt something is deus ex machina a few times, or that the author made choices I found strange, but for the most part, it hasn’t made me really upset or caused me to stop reading. That was one of the very few times I was truly upset at what an author did — I still think it was a betrayal of everything she did in the prior books and, frankly, a betrayal of her readers. It’s probably the only time I just quit a book right then and there.
The worst ending I ever read has to be the one in Graham Masterton’s novel PLAGUE, which is a thriller where a pandemic rages through the US (republished recently, for some reason). The story itself is both horrible and implausible, but I kept reading out of morbid curiosity. The main character is a doctor who finds he and his six-year-old daughter are immune to the plague. He manages to get them both out of the quarantine zone, to some semblance of safety in Manhattan where he figures out why the immunity (it’s because of the rays emanated by screens – he got those thanks to X-rays, she got those thanks to TV).
So, after dealing with Hell’s Angels and killer rats and so on, he and his daughter set out for Washington to tell the government about the cure.
And before he can get any further than Delaware, he realizes he’s got the plague too. He parks the car, tells his daughter it’s over – and that’s it.
I couldn’t believe the book just ended this way. It wasn’t a tragic finale. It was the author being unable to think of how to end the story, therefore shrugging and saying, “and then everyone died. I can haz money now?”
The ending I remember causing ructions was the made-for-tv version of LaVyrle Spencer’s The Fulfillment. The movie shows the hero shut out of all of his HEA. Whether you like the novel or not, the moviemakers showed a disturbing willingness to rewrite the author’s book at the most critical point. If you don’t like the author’s ending, don’t option the book. Either accept the book’s socially transgressive concept or reject it.
And now that I think about it, the moviemakers could have ended the story ambiguously, somewhat like Gone with the Wind but without the anger. It would have subverted the author’s intentions, but it would have been less of a rewrite.
I hated the Time Traveler’s Wife! Especially the ending (it’s old but I don’t want to spoil it). The most anti female agency thing ever.
Really? That’s so interesting. I didn’t see that ending that way at all. What about it make you feel Claire had no agency? That she spent her life tied up with his still?
Yes–her life was not only tied up, it essentially totally stopped when she was young.
Totally agree, Susan. Although my problem wasn’t with the ending so much as the whole book.
It’s one of my faves!
Hmmmm…. I guess I didn’t see it that way. I believe that Claire lived a full and happy life that probably included other men and that her relationship with Henry after he died afforded her both him and a separate life.
I read and re-read a lot of Louisa May Alcott as a child, and I still am sad that Jo and Laurie did not end up together in the Little Women series. I accept it, but ohhh, I hated the character Amy throughout my childhood.
Yes to all of this!
Maybe I was too accepting as a child but it never bothered me that Jo and Laurie didn’t end up together. I felt they were both too headstrong and would constantly be fighting. I didn’t like childhood Amy but I did believe that she grew and matured and I liked her love story with Laurie. Have you read Jo & Laurie by Margaret Stohl and Melissa de la Cruz? It was published this summer. It’s a re-imaging where Jo and Laurie do end up together. You might like it!
I can think of two that did something similar and that I found really jarring.
one is “The Witch From The Sea” by Philippa Carr. It’s part of her daughters of England series. The heroine Linnet is the daughter of the previous hero and heroine. She ends up with a “hero” who drugs and rapes her so she will marry him. But that’s not actually the worst part. A mysterious woman is found on the shore from a wrecked ship who is beautiful and fascinates the horrible husband.
Another book that really jarred me and is a children’s book is “A Candle In Her Room” by Ruth M. Arthur about an evil doll that poisons the lives of generations in a family. Really bad things keep happening and although after a couple of generations things get better and the evil doll is destroyed it’s horribly cursed several people and there is no undoing all the evil.
While it didn’t upset me as I had given up on the book series before, I think the final book in the Sookie Stackhouse series (Dead Ever After) was a huge disappointment for a lot of readers and fans of the show who wanted Sookie to end up with someone other than she did.
This is more of a problem for me in thrillers and suspense. I’m an outlier in disliking In the Woods by Tana French. I found that ending very disappointing, and I’m not a reader that needs tidy endings. I know a lot of people who love this book, though.
It’s grown on me over the years–when I first read it, I couldn’t believe she didn’t solve both crimes. But, over the years and as I read more of her, I came to find it the only one I could imagine.
She did pretty much the same sort of thing in Broken Harbor (on sale today) and I actually found that ending much less satisfying.
Both books, however, are excellent reads. French’s not her best still beats the snot out of most everyone else!
The one ending that I still hate is on an older book. Mary Jo Putney “One Perfect Rose”. The hero is very sick and the heroine goes through all the stages of grief. And then he has a miraculous recovery in the last chapter. I read this book shortly after my father died from cancer. I thought that the emotions were pitch perfect but then the ending seemed cruel given that it was different for me in life. Even 20 years later, when my own emotions are settled, I love the first 2/3 of the book and I hate the ending because I don’t believe it. For someone who got as sick as the hero to come back to life because of a miraculous doctor, in an era with little medical care and with no lasting effects, that strains all credibility and does not work as a romance for me as a result.
I did not reread it because of similar issues – the grief and loss were wonderfully done, and then just swept away and we were all supposed to be happy – I could not follow the emotional whiplash of it.
The depth of the setup, the beauty of the story as it was… and then the quick easy solution were emotionally off.
But my vague memory was that actually, he was being poisoned and somebody discovered the poison and that is why he recovered?? I thought it made sense, plot wise, but did not work emotionally.
Am I mixing it up with another book??
Yes, it was poison, which I guess made sense plot wise. But even with that, he is extremely weakened and has a “near death looking from outside” experience – that probably means organ damage – and then recovers with no lasting effects.
Though you are right, I think it’s the “emotional whiplash” that is a problem. Really like that term. And miraculous recoveries are never simple, either. Now that I think about this, I went through this as well. My grandmother was very old and took a definitive turn for the worse. She was unconscious for 6 weeks or so, with no diagnosis (in a country where they would not put someone that old in a hospital) and no one thought she was going to survive, we discussed funeral arrangements with my mother and otherwise made peace with that. And then one day she just woke up. Everyone, both the family and the doctors, thought it was miraculous. But while I was glad it was by no means simple. Having made peace with the grief suddenly I needed to “undo” all the emotional work and readjust to a life where this has not happened. That was surprisingly emotionally disruptive and it took me a while to settle.
Also, while grandmother lived for another 18 months after that, there were definite negative impacts on all sorts of health. She never walked again. And yes, it would be easier on someone who was young and fit to start with but I still don’t think it’s either trivial or dismissable. This kind of stuff lasts for a very long time both physically and emotionally and that’s probably why the HEA didn’t work for me,
I fully understand you, I had some tragedy of this type in my life too, so realism has to take a backseat for it to work.
I can do this – it is a romance after all – but the sudden “all gone” at an emotional level did not work for me – I would expect quite a lot of reactions from everyone – I really liked how MJP handled the recovery at death’s door plot in The Bargain, where she managed to pull off the anger of the heroine at not being a widow and still make the whole thing work.
Here, it does not.
Thank you! I had the same issue with a book by – I think – Dorothea Benton Frank.
With regards to romance specifically, I think that because the definition of the genre includes a HEA/HFN, it would be unlikely that we would fully hate a romance novel ending. However, we could actively dislike the ending in 2 ways that I can think of:
a. The ending is unbelievable. One of the characters behaves in a way that is incongruent with their behavior throughout the rest of the book such as giving up a dream or reversing a major way of thought. Or there is a convenient plot twist that makes everything work out too easily.
b. The ending is frustrating. The book ends too abruptly. The main character had a choice of partners and doesn’t wind up with the one we felt was right for them. The book is actually part 1 of a series about the same couple and we didn’t know that when we started the book.
I know I have encountered all of these things and wish I could give examples but when I look at the books on my shelves/Kindle, it turns out I only keep the ones that I liked!
I think it is much easier to hate the ending of non-romance novels. I found the first part of Gone Girl OK then after the first big plot twist, it was completely gripping and then the ending was devastating. I think there is a natural tendency for people to want characters who behave badly to get what they deserve and if a villain gets away with what they did, we may appreciate that it’s like real life but we will hate that ending. I have recommended Gone Girl to others but I have personally never read it again.
In mystery novels, there is the convention that the mystery is always solved by the end of the book. However, we may hate an ending if we don’t satisfactorily find out they how’s and why’s. One of my pet peeves about mysteries is if there are not enough clues throughout the book that the reader could figure it out themselves.
Anyway, these are my general thoughts. Maybe others who agree can write in with some examples :)
Rushed endings are frustrating. Several of Rachel Lee’s recent Conard County books resolve the plot as the mutual development of feelings is coming along nicely, in parallel, then just kind of go, “okay, let’s get married.” There’s some action and reflection missing — maybe a chapter’s worth? So the book slides from a low A or high B rating for me to somewhere close to or in C. It is as if the reader is going along on the writer’s horse at the gait the writer sets, but then the horse changes pace, and the rider discovers the horse is back in the stable and the ride is over.
Sometimes category word counts would benefit from some flexibility. The Conard County books are all Harlequins.
Yep, as soon as I saw the question, Gone Girl came instantly to mind. If you’re going to give me a book in which there is no one to root for, and I force myself to continue reading about distasteful characters simply because I want to see who ends up “winning” or whatever, I expect there to be an actual ending.
If, “ending” can be the last third of the book. Kleypas’ The Devil’s Daughter. Erotica followed by absurdity.
I nominate The l Last Time They Met by Anita Shreve. I won’t give away the ending as it will spoil the entire story. It made me cry hard. Because of the unreliable male lead, I was underwhelmed by the ending of Mercy by Jodi Picoult.
Lastly, I agree that endings for the purpose of setting up the next in the series bother me.
ITA about the Shreve. I was gutted at the end and could not stop thinking about it. It should be a good thing when a book has such a strong impact, but it was such a shock and, like you, I shed a few tears and Was.Not.Happy.
As DiscoDollyDeb points out, it is hard to think of a romance with a terrible ending because the HEA is usually guaranteed. I would however make a case for A Civil Contract, by Georgette Heyer. I felt that the heroine deserved so much more. I would like to say more but am worried it veers into spoiler territory.
I love A Civil Contract, but I understand.
That’s fair, and I guess it’s probably a realistic ending. It is one of the few historical romances I’ve read which properly explores classism, and I did enjoy how character-driven the novel was. I just really loved Jenny
I get it! I have this to reread soon. It’s been on my mind a lot.
All the arguments for a happy marriage with contentment and so on are right. I myself consoled me with them after finishing the book. But nevertheless I was a bit sad for Jenny and a bit angry with Adam.
I always thought Adam and Jenny would have a truly living partnership lasting a life time. Not a fluffy book, A Civil Contract, but an honest portrait of two people at the start of something wonderful and satisfying.
Reply to self – that’s a truly loving partnership!!
‘It reminds me that love is more than passion–it’s all the common, everyday things. It’s companionship, contentment, and trust. In fact, in my 37 years of marriage, those are the best parts’ – I completely agree with you and Elaine S on this point. In fact, I think I read an article on Heyer, which talks about how she believed a lasting marriage was one founded on friendship, respect and shared values, rather than passion.
I just personally felt, that Jenny was short-changed in this relationship. There were points where Adam was unnecessarily brusque with her and I didn’t like how there seemed to be an imbalance in terms of how they both felt about each other. But again, this is just my interpretation of the ending:
In fiction and in real life, I don’t think it has to be a rather–a lasting, happy, healthy marriage can have whatever works for the couple. If they or the author make me believe their particular alchemy works, whatever it is, that’s fine with me.
You are 100% entitles to your perception! In fact, I don’t think it’s a matter of right or wrong perceptions. I love discussing books and how they impact each of us differently. I agree with your assessment, and perhaps my way around feeling sad about it is to imagine that love will grow and will get better with time.
Thank you so much!
Thank you too – it’s been great discussing this book with you:) That’s one of the best things about AAR, discussing our perceptions of books with fellow book lovers.
I hated the end of GONE GIRL—but then again, I didn’t care much for the beginning or the middle either. Also, there’s a difference between a downbeat ending that goes along with the tone of the book (how else could you end JUDE THE OBSCURE—by having Jude meet and fall in love with another woman, have a whole new family, and live into happy old age?) and an ending that essentially circumvents all that has come before it or—worse—simply uses some deus ex machina (a neatly-typed, fully-explanatory confession being the favorite) to resolve the plot (Sophie Hannah—I’m looking at you). We have to separate our personal preferences for what we want to happen at the end of a book from what should happen based on all that has gone before: I know there are readers who hate that Scarlett & Rhett don’t stay together at the end of GONE WITH THE WIND, but I think their separation is the correct ending for the book and is true to the way their characters (especially Rhett’s) are written.
I’m pretty much drawing a blank on hating the ending of any romance I’ve read when I didn’t already hate other parts of the book. Because one of the elements of romance is an HEA/HFN ending, I think it’s likely that if someone has a problem with the ending of a romance, it’s because they had a problem with the book before the ending. But take a book like Taylor Fitzpatrick’s THROWN OFF THE ICE. It’s not a romance because it doesn’t have an HEA/HFN, but in every other way, it’s a love story. I didn’t so much hate the ending as I had to acknowledge that the ending made the book most definitely not a romance. (Let me stress, I loved the book—but the ending is gutting.) Could it have ended a different way? Yes. Would the story have had the same impact? Probably not.
I love Gone Girl. (I reviewed it for Dear Author.) It’s actually one of Flynn’s less grim books and I feel as though Amy’s brilliant nastiness is so well rendered that I couldn’t look away.
That author hates women. We are living in misogynist times. Hopefully her misogyny creates karma for her.
Yikes!
When I was younger, I didn’t like the ending of GONE WITH THE WIND. I changed my mind as I got older.
I love the ending to GWTW purely because it’s up to the reader to decide what happens. Sure Rhett walks out but the famous last line is Scarlett saying “tomorrow is another day”.
So if you are a pessimist (or a realist some may argue) you will say Rhett finally left- so that’s it.
If you are an optimist or a romantic, or just swayed by Scarlett’s unbending will and recent self-realizations then you think that she will surely find a way to get him back. After all she spent an entire book doing pretty much the impossible.
I think it’s the perfect ending.
Atonement – without a doubt. I understood what McEwan was trying to do with with this ending, but I just felt completely cheated. It’s completely irrational, but it made me think that he was a very smug writer, and I ended up fuming about it for days.
I’m telling you: Just have the last line of the book be:
Without the final chapter, it’s an extraordinary read.
You are right, that would have been the best way to end the book. It’s a shame because I really loved the book until I reached the ending.
I can’t think of a particular romance with an ending that annoyed me as much as certain traditional tropes I keep seeing. Namely, it drives me bonkers when a heroine who never expresses the slightest interest in having children throughout the entire story- or believes beyond a shadow of a doubt that she is incapable of having children- magically has a passel of little ones following her around in the epilogue while she bustles around the hearth full of heady bliss and 110% ready to make one more moppet.
Look, I don’t have a problem with HR heroines becoming homemakers with children. Not only would that have been the norm throughout much of history, but it would have been an ardent dream for a lot of women (including today). But when the maternal/housewife instinct hits out of nowhere because the hero was so freakin’ hot it activated something we don’t even get a hint of throughout the text, that’s when it becomes an annoying, borderline-obligatory cliché rather than a natural, organic HEA conclusion.
P.S. “I don’t like stories where a hero/ine has to give up his or her dream to have an HEA.” Dabney, I’d like to co-sign on that.
The books I have the most trouble with cure blindness, amnesia, infertility, and other medical conditions so the main characters can have normal lives after having their characters shaped by abnormal lives. Years ago there were a bunch of books using hysterical blindness to create plot tension between a withdrawn hero or heroine and the heroic person who saves them. It wasn’t that I hated the endings, it was that I disliked the implausible plots.
Years ago I read two historical romances, one by Theresa Medeiros and one by Marjorie Farrell. Both involve aristocratic heroes who have been blinded in war. In the Medeiros he rants and rages but miraculously recovers his sight in the end. In the Farrell he does not, and I found it far more powerful and poignant for precisely that reason. Her hero was a duke, an athlete, a man in his prime who moved easily through his world. Suddenly so many of the ways he’d defined himself were gone, and he needed assistance with tasks that had come naturally to him before. It was lovely to see how the heroine helped him as he helped her, and it was more believable because he had to learn not only alternative ways to do some things but also to accept the things he could no longer do.
Miss Ware’s Refusal, the book you refer to by Marjorie Farrell, is in my Top Ten Keepers.
I have also read the Medeiros and it was rubbish, IMO, for the readons you mention.
Totally agree with you! I enjoyed the Medeiros book until he gets miraculously cured, and it made me so annoyed. Another book which deals with disability sensitively is The Parfit Knight by Stella Riley. I absolutely loved how the hero helped the heroine (who is blind) out of the suffocating, protective cocoon put in place by the people who love her.
Yes, I’ve read that one too. I am currently reading A Hero to Hold by Sheri Humphreys (whom I had never heard of and don’t even remember how I found this one) which is about a very badly injured cavalry major who served in the Crimean War – unusual setting/period and a very realistic portrayal of physical, mental and social issues and adjustments surrounding a life changing injury when not much treatment was yet known about. So far it’s an A read for me.
Ooh I loved The Parfit Knight.
Ah, yes the magic “love-cures-all” trope. That’s irritating to me as well. You know, as though atypical heroes/heroines can’t have an HEA just the way they are.
That’s not to say I would have a problem with a character pursuing medical/technological devices that could improve their lives or, perhaps in the case of science fiction, cure them. But I don’t care for this magic love cure business, nor the idea that a character must be cured in order to have an HEA.
This idea of a range of acceptable (dis)abilities for a happy ending reminds me of a much debated episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, “Hollow Pursuits.” The character, engineer Lt. Barclay, is socially awkward- to the point of possibly having mental issues that might need to be addressed professionally- and self-soothes by retreating into a holodeck fantasy world for most of his waking hours. I really loved this episode because I think it was one of the few times a human character as opposed to a robot or an alien was allowed to be introverted and have mental problems but still be a valuable member of the crew. Some critics disliked the character and acted like he was a plot hole because wouldn’t the 24th century have cured him by now? While I agree the underlying cause(s) of Barclay’s addictive behaviors should be addressed, I think it’s rather shortsighted to believe that in the future, only neurotypical people would exist or anyone with an atypical mind would be “cured.” Really? We can only have one peppy personality in the future unless we’re aliens or robots? Come on…
I dislike books that make a disability into a shallow trope. I’m glad there are examples of writers handling things well.I read ALWAYS ONLY YOU by Chloe Liese earlier this year, and while it isn’t a perfect book, it handled the heroines autism and rheumatoid arthritis really well. I learned a lot. Years ago I read BEAU CRUSOE by Carla Kelly and was amazed how well she handled PTSD in that book.
Another book that I think handled disability (hero in wheel chair) is WINNING RUBY HEART by Jennifer Lohmann.
I absolutely hated the ending of It (not a romance, I know).
It was a seriously WT-Everlasting-F moment.
Most recently: MORE THAN A MISTRESS by Balogh. The book was already shaky (don’t get me started on the characters), but when the author chose to interrupt THE crucial scene between the leads with a new character bursting in, I was so over this book. I felt cheated out of the resolution. It got 2 stars for me only because of Rosalyn Landor’s narration.
Afraid I agree about Gone Girl. Irked me no end and very disappointing.
It’s very Sartrean. Hell is each other.