Lately, with irritating frequency, I end up reading the a series of books or comics, enjoying the hell out of it, then being let down by the ending.
Sometimes this is because a series gets canceled. Which sucks all around and isn't the author's fault. (Firefly.)
Sometimes the ending merely leaves me with a profound sensation of "meh." And while the intellectual equivalent of a shrug is not a terrible thing in itself, it's a pisser of a way to end a story that I've enjoyed and devoted time, money, and attention to. (The Boys.)
Worst, in my opinion, is when the ending seems to come out of nowhere, leaving me with the feeling that the author was just making shit up all along. Or it trails off like a sad half-hearted fart. This pisses me off to a high degree and makes me want to choke people. Because sure, sometimes as a writer, you make things up. You tease a bit. You add a little maguffin to firm up an otherwise flaccid plot. But then, when it comes to the end of things, you know what you do? You tie up all those loose ends anyway. You fucking *DO* it. You owe your reader legitimate closure and resolution. And if you don't provide it, you are a cock and I want to choke choke choke you. Yes you J.J. Abrams. (Alias.)
Ahem. Sorry.
The point I wanted to make is that I just finished this final volume of Freakangels, and it tied everything up delightfully.
The ending made sense, was satisfying, answered questions, gave resolution and closure, and maintained the same fun/serious tone of the entire series.
That means you can read this series joyfully, with a spring in your step. Safe in the knowledge that you're not going to get fucked at the very end.
Thanks again, Warren Ellis. I wish there were two of you so I could keep one in my basement. Forever.