Oh, how could you?

There’s been a bit of a kerfuffle over the past few weeks about endings. In particular, when the ending isn’t what the reader expected.

To name a few that I’ve read: Embraced by Darkness by Keri Arthur, For a Few Demons More by Kim Harrison and Rebel Ice, by S.L. Viehl.

My fundamental criticism with the pissy readers who hate those endings is: What? You didn’t see that coming? Read the book again and look closer!

With all these books, there are threads, carefully hidden, that lead to the end. None of these authors ever do something without giving clues; it’s up to the reader to find them, because they are there. So let’s get to the flammable arguments:

EBD: Look at who Riley Jensen is and the problems she’s facing – the choice Jack gave her - and then think of who would be an ideal soul partner for her. Anyone we’ve seen yet? The ending was inevitable

FAFDM: What I like about Rachel is that she makes mistakes; reasonable mistakes. Sometimes the consequences are small and sometimes, they are catastrophic. It’s as if Kim Harrison, in plotting the book, has thought, ‘what’s the best that can happen from this boo-boo? What’s the absolute worst? Okay, we’ll go with that.’

RI: The reasoning behind this came in an earlier book – a hypothetical comment becomes reality. How else were Duncan and Cherijo to handle the issue? Yes, it was a book that might not have been written as being too hard or too controversial, but it was also too much of a delicious ‘what if’ to pass up and I loved it.

The questions are, I suppose, how far can an author take a beloved character without the character becoming a Mary-Sue? What more can an author do to a character and keep the series fresh? I would say that once an author has to ask these questions, it might be time to end the series and go on to something new.

The first trilogy I read where a main character disappeared was W. Michael Gear’s Web of Spider. Shocked I was, shocked, I tell you. I didn’t want to read anymore. Books were supposed to have happy endings weren’t they? Well, no, and I read the other two books to see what happened. The trilogy didn’t quite have an atypical happy ending, either, but it was appropriate. And that is staying true to the reader; fulfilling the promise made at the start.

Real life has tragedy and trauma, mistakes that have dire consequences, quirks of fate that make us smile; novels have them too. They must or Mary-Suedom takes over – not a happy place to be.

Should readers have input into a series? No. Should authors listen to the complaints of readers? Only if those complaints are grounded in fact and fans have genuine concerns. Hating one book and bitching about it is not enough; there’s usually a good reason why the author wrote the book that way.

There are, of course, exceptions and we all know who I mean. That sort of arrogance and contempt for readers can only be dented via poor sales and even then I have my doubts.

We all know of characters whose demise has upset us. As long as the author gives clues, albeit hidden, the departure is solid and while readers can vent their spleen over it, nothing should change. Patricia Cornwell did that and readers were disgusted. Justifiably so.

Before readers jump on the band wagon and trash an author, or a series, for killing off a beloved character, they should think about why that character had to die. If you look at JK Rowlings’ Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, for example, the deaths of a number of well-loved characters was stunning, but I thought it represented the uncertainty, the randomness of war where heroes and innocents can die, regardless of how good a person they are, and enemies can escape without a scratch.

It’s ultimately up to the author to manage the series – not the reader. If done well, even those who bitch and moan will return… just to see what happens next.