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I don't say it often, because I'm a softie, and I like happy endings. But the (admittedly mindless fluff) book I finished would've been a better book without the happy ending.
There was something to be said about the level of privilege of the protagonist, and there was not enough acknowledgement that, in the end, it all boiled down to privilege.
When the protagonist discovered near the end of the novel that he hadn't actually poisoned anyone, I became incredibly frustrated. Even at the end of the novel he STILL did not get it. It didn't matter one whit whether or not he was the poisoner. At worst, the poisoning was an accident. The real crime was in letting an innocent man take the fall for it!
It's frustrating when a book gets so close to the point and then somehow skids right passed it. The wife pointed out the problem. I cheered her when she noted that had he confessed at the time, that (due to his massive amount of privilege) he most likely would've suffered few if any lasting consequences. Instead, he was so scared of any consequences whatsoever that he allowed an innocent man to take the fall for it, a man who --without the same amount of privilege as the protagonist-- suffered far, far, far worse consequences for it than the protagonist ever would've. And the wife pointed out that this was a pattern for the protagonist, that time and again he 'accidentally' (but usually through his own blind obstinancy and elevated status) allowed other characters lives to be ruined because his own privilege made him unassailable (and he couldn't be bothered discovering and/or exposing the truth because it might have somehow inconvenienced HIM. So, I guess it's okay to let other people deal with the mess then?)
My thought was: this guy is, at heart, a coward. I wanted just one character to flat out tell the guy -- you are a coward. No. Really. You actually are.
Sure, his transgressions were human, but when someone has all of the advantages that life can offer, it makes it especially repugnant when he allows people without power to deal with all the consequences in his stead (in this case, not only the innocent guy, but his wife, his brother-in-law, and his wife's friend as well).
When the protagnist discovered, "oh, hey! I didn't actually poison anyone. I only thought I did..." I became frustrated with the writer. The protagonist felt he was 'cleared' because he hadn't actually done the poisoning after all. But, dude, the poisoning wasn't the problem. If it had happened, it had been an accident. The PROBLEM was taking the easy way out for yourself by letting the consequences fall for the death when you THOUGHT you had poisoned/killed the victim. The protagonist didn't even learn his primary lesson through the story! Which means he did not earn his 'clear conscience' or his 'happy ending.'
I remember reading some book on writing that had a way of putting things that I've never forgotten:
Stories are about change. We want to see the protagonist experience change and/or be changed by the experience. Stories/protagonists who do not change are a tragedy.
No happy ending was earned here. It would've worked better had he had to suffer the consequences of his actions at long last.
Restitution years after the fact may be not be enough. A delayed apology can in fact be too damn late. (Or to use a (crappy) Joss Whedon line "No. You don't. But thanks for saying it." ) I didn't actually feel this protagonist deserved the forgiveness of anyone involved save perhaps his wife's brother... who had been a douchenozzle in his own right (even if he did suffer some measurable degree of harm due to the protagonist).
There was something to be said about the level of privilege of the protagonist, and there was not enough acknowledgement that, in the end, it all boiled down to privilege.
When the protagonist discovered near the end of the novel that he hadn't actually poisoned anyone, I became incredibly frustrated. Even at the end of the novel he STILL did not get it. It didn't matter one whit whether or not he was the poisoner. At worst, the poisoning was an accident. The real crime was in letting an innocent man take the fall for it!
It's frustrating when a book gets so close to the point and then somehow skids right passed it. The wife pointed out the problem. I cheered her when she noted that had he confessed at the time, that (due to his massive amount of privilege) he most likely would've suffered few if any lasting consequences. Instead, he was so scared of any consequences whatsoever that he allowed an innocent man to take the fall for it, a man who --without the same amount of privilege as the protagonist-- suffered far, far, far worse consequences for it than the protagonist ever would've. And the wife pointed out that this was a pattern for the protagonist, that time and again he 'accidentally' (but usually through his own blind obstinancy and elevated status) allowed other characters lives to be ruined because his own privilege made him unassailable (and he couldn't be bothered discovering and/or exposing the truth because it might have somehow inconvenienced HIM. So, I guess it's okay to let other people deal with the mess then?)
My thought was: this guy is, at heart, a coward. I wanted just one character to flat out tell the guy -- you are a coward. No. Really. You actually are.
Sure, his transgressions were human, but when someone has all of the advantages that life can offer, it makes it especially repugnant when he allows people without power to deal with all the consequences in his stead (in this case, not only the innocent guy, but his wife, his brother-in-law, and his wife's friend as well).
When the protagnist discovered, "oh, hey! I didn't actually poison anyone. I only thought I did..." I became frustrated with the writer. The protagonist felt he was 'cleared' because he hadn't actually done the poisoning after all. But, dude, the poisoning wasn't the problem. If it had happened, it had been an accident. The PROBLEM was taking the easy way out for yourself by letting the consequences fall for the death when you THOUGHT you had poisoned/killed the victim. The protagonist didn't even learn his primary lesson through the story! Which means he did not earn his 'clear conscience' or his 'happy ending.'
I remember reading some book on writing that had a way of putting things that I've never forgotten:
Stories are about change. We want to see the protagonist experience change and/or be changed by the experience. Stories/protagonists who do not change are a tragedy.
No happy ending was earned here. It would've worked better had he had to suffer the consequences of his actions at long last.
Restitution years after the fact may be not be enough. A delayed apology can in fact be too damn late. (Or to use a (crappy) Joss Whedon line "No. You don't. But thanks for saying it." ) I didn't actually feel this protagonist deserved the forgiveness of anyone involved save perhaps his wife's brother... who had been a douchenozzle in his own right (even if he did suffer some measurable degree of harm due to the protagonist).
