What Kind of Ending? > Likes and Comments

When it comes to the resolution of stories you like to read, what do your prefer: something where everything is resolved in a way that brings a sense of justice and peace, or do you like stories that conclude based on the logical tragectory...even if it is brutal?

Hello Chris! Honestly, the ending really depends on the story I’m reading, but I think I always like new and different things. Thinking about an ending with justice and peace is probably the more common approach, but I enjoy reading stories that are different. Even when they’re brutal, they give the story a very distinct and unique identity compared to reading something predictable.

Hi K. I am torn too. Sometimes I feel like I want the protagonist to "win" and the universe goes back to normal. I agree, it has to make sense. For example, if a book like "1984" ended any other way, it would feel like a cop out. Likewise, if something like "Days of Abandonment" did not turn around to a certain degree, I would just feel mad.

Then of course, there are the books that end ambiguously. That's an interesting conversation too.

It depends if it’s stand alone or a serial book. Stand alone I like the justice part and then serial books can be left hanging with the logical thought process of what happens in the next installment. Kinda the way I enjoy stories.

I prefer an ending that feels earned rather than simply comforting. Justice can be satisfying, but if it contradicts the logical trajectory of the story, it can weaken everything that came before.
Ambiguous endings can also work well when they leave an important question alive — not when they feel like a way to avoid resolving the story.
With a series, I think each volume should give the reader something meaningful, even if the larger conflict remains open until the final book.

I usually prefer an ending that feels earned over one that simply feels kind. Justice is satisfying when the story has made room for it, but if everything has been moving toward a darker truth, a too-neat ending can feel false. Ambiguity works for me when it leaves a moral question open, not when it avoids the story's hardest consequence.

Does it matter if you want the protagonist to win or not? How much empathy figure in? I have seen endings that I thought, "Good, they got what was coming to them." There were others I really wanted to see redemption.

Empathy matters, but for me it is not automatically the same as wanting the protagonist to win. I can understand a character and still feel that the most honest ending requires consequences; redemption works best when the story has made the cost visible.

Empathy matters because it makes the consequences hurt, but it does not mean the protagonist has to win. I can want a character to be saved and still feel that a tragic ending is the only honest one. Redemption works when it grows from the character’s choices and carries a real cost; otherwise, it can feel like mercy imposed by the author.

What about a movie like "Seven?" Fincher's ending to that movie was brutal. In some ways, it seems more genuine in hindsight, but in the moment it seems like the end result of a sudden rush of emotion.

Whereas the end of "Lord of the Flies" (either original novel or limited series reboot) is more forced unless you want to land it all on the irony of being rescued by soldiers. The movie ending to Apoclaypto was similar, but you knew what was coming in the future after the Conquistadors made contact with some of the indigenous people even if the rest of the characters did not. Being "saved" from the enemy tribe at the end of that story was different in a subtle way than Lord of the Flies.

That distinction between structural inevitability and a character's sudden impulse is useful. A finale can happen in seconds and still feel earned if the story has spent its entire length narrowing the character's choices. Rescue endings feel weaker to me when an outside intervention solves a conflict the characters were never equipped to resolve themselves.

Have you seen the original "The Devil Wears Prada?"
Miranda's (Meryl Streep) little grin at the end of that movie drives me nuts. Also, the ending of Williams's play "A Streetcar Named Desire," is earned. The Kazan movie version is disingenuine (but Hollywood made him change it) and feels exactly what you said--weak.

Christopher wrote: "Have you seen the original "The Devil Wears Prada?"
Miranda's (Meryl Streep) little grin at the end of that movie drives me nuts. Also, the ending of Williams's play "A Streetcar Named Desire," is ..."

Is the ending like this....S-T-E-L-L-A....?

I do not have a reliable enough memory of that final Prada scene to lean on it, but your contrast makes the principle clearer: an ending can be emotionally sharp and still feel false if the story has to override its own moral logic to deliver it. Streetcar is especially useful here because changing the consequence changes what the whole preceding story means.

When I taught, we would compare the end of the play Streetcar Named Desire and the movie. After a week of trying to understand what Williams was trying to say with his play, the students felt betrayed by what Kazan had to do to get the film across the finish line (even with the amazing acting of Leigh and Brando). Stanley wasn't supposed to be punished, but Hollywood had different ideas.

That classroom reaction is telling: the changed ending did not merely alter Stanley’s fate, it changed the argument the students believed the story had made. Adaptations can survive many plot changes, but revising the moral consequence may create an entirely different work.

Vera, exactly! Well said.

Christopher wrote: "When it comes to the resolution of stories you like to read, what do your prefer: something where everything is resolved in a way that brings a sense of justice and peace, or do you like stories th..."

I usually prefer an ending that feels earned, even if it isn’t completely peaceful. If the story has been building toward something darker, I’d rather the ending stay true to that than force a happy resolution. I do like some sense of closure, though — even when the outcome is brutal.”

H.B. wrote: "Christopher wrote: "When it comes to the resolution of stories you like to read, what do your prefer: something where everything is resolved in a way that brings a sense of justice and peace, or do..."

I agree with you 100% That kind of trajectory in a story, and the commitment to that authentic end takes a lot of bravery from the author.

Late to this one, but the earned versus comforting debate comes up in almost every draft I write. I've learned readers can tell the difference between an ending that grows out of the story's own logic and one that's been softened at the last minute to send people away happy. The version that stays true to the darker trajectory almost always reads as more honest, even when it stings. That's probably why the "earned" argument keeps winning in threads like this, readers trust a story more when it doesn't blink.

I like the question and often think about that. What I really enjoy are surprise endings that intuitively touch something deeper that I can’t stop thinking about. When I find myself going back into the story with new curiosity, I know it was a book that was right for me. I guess I realized just now, that I don’t always favour books with a tidy ending, although I did enjoy many books that end that way—just not my favourite.

Miles wrote: "Late to this one, but the earned versus comforting debate comes up in almost every draft I write. I've learned readers can tell the difference between an ending that grows out of the story's own lo..."

Dan wrote: "I like the question and often think about that. What I really enjoy are surprise endings that intuitively touch something deeper that I can’t stop thinking about. When I find myself going back into..."

I think what the two of you are touching on can be compatible. I think a story can offer a logical resolution in tune with its tone and arc while at the same time giving something that is not wholly predictable...a surprise of sorts, even if that surprise is to see how far that logical ending goes. A classic from my teaching days -- The Bluest Eye. We don't expect Cholly to be punished for what he did, and we expect Pecola's trauma, but the way that trauma is presented goes to an extreme that I am not sure people foresaw.

I guess it comes down to the purpose of the story. I just finished Between Two Fires. it was a story about a test and the possibility for redemption. The resolution to that story fit its arc. If it did not, the complexity of that story (and it was complex) would have been wasted.

Christopher, I agree that the surprise still has to grow naturally from the story. Your comment made me think about one of my novels, Murder City. One of the endings I was most satisfied with was the conclusion to that book because I wanted the final revelation to be surprising, but also to make sense of what had come before.

Crime author Nancy Kilpatrick described it this way “…Martin kept me reading and wanting to discover more about the who-and-why-done-it, as well as locking me in for the surprising conclusion to a story about seemingly unrelated and grisly killings in Edmonton.”

That has always struck me as the balance I was hoping for—an ending that surprises the reader without feeling imposed on the story.

Yep, that's a delicate balance. The same thing I was going for in my upcoming book, The Pain You Seek.

I'm sorry fella's but I don't like surprise endings so much. I like the ending to at least make sense, and I hate cliff-hangers,,,,,You know the ones that will drag you on to another book? And then before you know it, you have already 4 books all together. I really like the WHO DONE IT REVEALED...

Totally want the WHO DONE IT revealed too. I like it if the reveal doesn't necessarily restore moral order if it is not warranted.

stephanie wrote: "I'm sorry fella's but I don't like surprise endings so much. I like the ending to at least make sense, and I hate cliff-hangers,,,,,You know the ones that will drag you on to another book? And then..."



I can see why that would be frustrating. Would resolving the murder but leaving a character's fate uncertain make you more willing to continue the series?

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

I want the book's central promise resolved, even when the moral consequences stay messy. A sequel hook should create a new question, not withhold the answer the reader has earned.

Steven's framing is close to how I think about series structure. Each book needs to answer the question it actually asked, even if a bigger question stays open for the next one. A sequel hook that just withholds the answer the reader already earned feels like a stall, not a continuation. The trick is making sure the next book's question is a genuinely new one, not the same one dragged out.

Agreed. A sequel should widen the story, not defer the first book's contract with the reader.

I agree, a book needs to fulfill its promise and at the end there should be a satisfied feeling, at least, that the pieces really make sense. Earlier I wrote that I totally enjoy a surprise ending. I think every reader caught up in a narrative is predicting the outcome. I think it’s part of the joy of reading. I am less enamoured with a novel that is too predictive. Occasionally a novel is a real surprise with an ending I did not expect, one that prompts me to go back inside the book with real curiosity and discover the surprise ending makes sense in a profoundly beautiful way and comes together in a satisfying way. Because of the ending, the book sticks with me when many other books are forgotten.

Dan wrote: "I agree, a book needs to fulfill its promise and at the end there should be a satisfied feeling, at least, that the pieces really make sense. Earlier I wrote that I totally enjoy a surprise ending...."

That return trip into the book is a strong test of a surprise ending. If the revelation makes earlier scenes richer rather than merely misleading, the reader's prediction was not wasted—it becomes part of the design the ending reveals.

Vera wrote: "Dan wrote: "I agree, a book needs to fulfill its promise and at the end there should be a satisfied feeling, at least, that the pieces really make sense. Earlier I wrote that I totally enjoy a surp..."

That's certainly the reward of a carefully crafted resolution. If it is a surprise that tantalizes more than it merely shocks, then the re-read or the look back is well-deserved. What did I miss? How do the clues align? Where was the author employing misdirection or foreshadowing?

I believe every book deserves an ending that honors the journey it took the reader on—whether that ending is gentle, brutal, or somewhere in between. If it’s part of a series, the final pages should ignite that hunger for the next book. If it’s a standalone story, the resolution should feel like the natural closing of that world’s last door.

To me, it isn’t about choosing a happy ending or a devastating one. It’s about delivering closure that feels earned. Readers invest their time, their emotions, their imagination—they deserve an ending that acknowledges that investment. Whether the final moment is a gasp, a sigh, or an ache, the story should leave them with the sense that they’ve reached the place they were meant to reach.

Sometimes writing the ending may take a turn that I didn't realize it was going to take.

J. wrote: "I believe every book deserves an ending that honors the journey it took the reader on—whether that ending is gentle, brutal, or somewhere in between. If it’s part of a series, the final pages shoul..."

Well said, J. As a reader, I appreciate that honesty. As a writer, like you said it may mean choosing a resolution that I did not intend but feels owed to the reader.

J. wrote: "I believe every book deserves an ending that honors the journey it took the reader on—whether that ending is gentle, brutal, or somewhere in between. If it’s part of a series, the final pages shoul..."

That distinction between the ending a writer intended and the ending the story eventually earns is important. A surprise in the drafting process is not automatically a betrayal of the plan; sometimes it is the moment the writer finally recognizes what the preceding choices have made inevitable.

Vera wrote: "J. wrote: "I believe every book deserves an ending that honors the journey it took the reader on—whether that ending is gentle, brutal, or somewhere in between. If it’s part of a series, the final ..."

I like what you said, especially the second half! The story can have its own demands regardless of the original intentions.

J.'s point about writing toward an ending you didn't originally intend rings true. The best resolution I've found rarely comes from the plan I trusted going in, it shows up somewhere in the second half once the characters have made enough choices that only one ending actually fits what they've done. If I have to force the original plan back into place after that, the book is usually telling me the plan was wrong, not the characters.

Christopher wrote: "Vera wrote: "J. wrote: "I believe every book deserves an ending that honors the journey it took the reader on—whether that ending is gentle, brutal, or somewhere in between. If it’s part of a serie..."

That may be why the strongest endings feel discovered rather than imposed. Once enough choices have closed off the alternatives, the surprise is not what happens but the recognition that the story could no longer end any other way.

I think the best endings are the ones that make you rethink something you read earlier.

I don't necessarily need an ending that is completely shocking. I like it when the final revelation changes the meaning of an earlier scene, conversation, or character decision.

For me, the ideal thriller ending creates two reactions at once: “I didn't see that coming” and “I should have seen it.”

That's the kind of ending that makes me want to go back through the story and look for what I missed.)

I tend to prefer an ending that answers the central question the story promised to answer, even if it leaves some consequences unresolved.

For me, the frustrating kind of cliffhanger is when the book withholds an answer just to force you into the next one.

A good sequel should make me ask a new question, not make me wait for the answer to the old one.)

Jonah wrote: "I tend to prefer an ending that answers the central question the story promised to answer, even if it leaves some consequences unresolved.

For me, the frustrating kind of cliffhanger is when the b..."

I agree that book one should answer the question that earned the reader’s attention. The most interesting sequel hook may be the cost of that answer, rather than a delayed solution. Are you more willing to continue when the next question grows from a character’s choice or from a wider threat?

I like the idea of a sequel coming from a cost or "effect" of that answer rather than withholding the answer altogether. Using the cost as the next step opens up the possibilities of new a new arc, a new conflict, new characters or growth of old ones. The original 3 Star Wars did that masterfully. As far as character choice or wider threat, I think it would depend on the whole scheme. A character choice may or may not read as compelling, but it sets up growth. A wider threat may read as a device rather than a progression. Now...if we are taking about how a character chooses to respond to a new conflict, then I suppose could get really interesting. Great question.

Christopher wrote: "I like the idea of a sequel coming from a cost or "effect" of that answer rather than withholding the answer altogether. Using the cost as the next step opens up the possibilities of new a new arc,..."

I think the differentiation needs to be implied, if not before you start reading, then definitely during the initial few chapters. To start on the premise it's a stand alone story and there is a major cliff hanger, then that's a tough place as a reader to be after 300 - 400 pages.

If you start a novel knowing its part of a series, then I think you have to assume there may be an underlying plot or character development that will undoubtedly seed onward, or infer a backstory event that may be answered in another book.

My own debut novel does both of those things. Straight off the bat you know its a series, and there are plenty of indicators that point to previous events, but enough for the reader to fill in the gaps themselves, or at least make an assumption that will get you through the initial book.

Christopher wrote: "I like the idea of a sequel coming from a cost or "effect" of that answer rather than withholding the answer altogether. Using the cost as the next step opens up the possibilities of new a new arc,..."

That distinction between progression and device is useful. A wider threat may work best when it exposes a choice the character has been avoiding, so the external escalation and internal growth become the same problem. Which side usually convinces you first—the new conflict or the character’s response to it?

For me it is usually the character's response that convinces me first. A new conflict can be dropped into almost any story, but watching a character actually grapple with the consequences of an earlier choice is what tells me a sequel is a continuation rather than just an escalation. The strongest version is when the conflict seems designed specifically to force that response out of them, so the two end up working together instead of competing for the reader's attention.

Miles wrote: "For me it is usually the character's response that convinces me first. A new conflict can be dropped into almost any story, but watching a character actually grapple with the consequences of an ear..."

I agree. And that is where you know if an author really understands the character(s) they have created. What they know underneath the surface or behind the curtain that never gets explicitly used in the text, but fully informs everything the characters do.