book ending meme
There are novels we love every sentence of and those we only like certain parts of. Some stories begin wonderfully only to fall apart before the climax is reached. Others we wonder why we even bother reading several chapters of until something happens and we can't put the book down. There are characters we cheer for, laugh at, are terrified of, and some that break our hearts. And for a great many readers as much as we look forward to reaching the last page, we dread it, because that means the story is over. Sometimes it'll continue for one or more books. But for the rest the story only lives on in our imaginations.
Share the ending to a book that has left a lasting impression on you, and why you like it so much. It can be from any book, regardless of your thoughts on the tale it concludes.
I thought this meme was going to be difficult, but when I actually thought about which book I'd pick, the answer was obvious.
Diana Gabaldon's A Breath of Snow and Ashes has the best ending, in the form of two epilogues, I have ever read. They're utterly perfect and tie up the events of the six novels incredibly well. My mom and I agree that we'd both be quite content to let that be the end of the books' canon.
Except for the way the seventh novel, An Echo in the Bone, ends. (For me, at least. I don't know my mother's opinion on it.) In my opinion, An Echo's ending is the one saving grace of the disaster of a book it ends.
The context: Ian (known as Yong Ian to his family, as he's named after his father) is a Highlander by birth, but ran away from home when he was fourteen to join his uncle who had to leave Scotland. After leaving Scotland, Ian had several adventures and mishaps. He was kidnapped and sold into slavery, from which he was successfully freed. Some time after arriving in the colony of North Carolina, he took the place of his cousin's husband's in a deal with a local Mohawk Indian tribe. He was adopted by the tribe and stayed with them for a few years, before being asked to leave for heartbreaking reasons. Ian's a white man, but he bears Mohawk tattoos on his face, so he doesn't exactly fit in in America during the Revolutionary War. After a brief trip to Scotland that was meant to be his permanent homecoming, but where he was an even bigger oddity, Ian returned to the Colonies. The ending scene of An Echo is a conversation between him and Rachel, a young Quaker woman whom he has fallen in love with.
"Ian, thee is thinking something painful, and I would much prefer thee tell me what it is. Has something happened?"
A great many things had happened, were happening all around them, would continue to happen. How could he tell her. . . ? And yet he couldn't not.
"The world is turning upside down," he blurted. "And you are the only constant thing. The only thing I--that binds me to the earth."
Her eyes softened.
"Am I?"
"Ye ken verra well that you are," he said gruffly. He looked away, his heart pounding. Too late, he thought, with a mixture of dismay and elation. He'd begun to speak; he couldn't stop now, no matter what might come of it.
"I know what I am," he said, awkward but determined. "I would turn Quaker for your sake, Rachel, but I ken I'm not one in my heart; I think I never could be. And I think ye wouldna want me to say words I dinna mean or pretend to be something I canna be."
"No," she said softly. "I would not want that."
He opened his mouth but couldn't find more words to say. He swallowed, dry-mouthed, waiting. She swallowed, too; he saw the slight movement of her throat, soft, brown; the sun had begun to touch her again, the nut-brown maiden ripening from winter's pale bloom.
The artillerymen loaded the last of the cannon into a wagon, hitched their limbers to teams of oxen, and with laughter and raucous talk moved up the road towards the ferry point. When they were gone at last, silence fell. There were still noises--the sound of the river, the rustle of the sycamore, and far beyond, the bellowings and crashings of an army on the move, the sound of violence impending. But between them, there was silence.
I've lost, he thought, but her head was still bent in thought. Is she maybe praying? Or only trying to think of how to send me away?
Whichever it was, she lifted her head and stood up, away from the tree. She pointed to Rollo, who was lying couchant now, motionless but alert, yellow eyes following every movement of a fat robin foraging in the grass.
"That dog is a wolf, is he not?"
"Aye, well, mostly."
A small flash of hazel told him not to quibble.
"And yet he is thy boon companion, a creature of rare courage and affection, and altogether a worthy being?"
"Oh, aye," he said with more confidence. "He is."
She gave him an even look.
"Thee is a wolf, too, and I know it. But thee is my wolf, and best thee know that."
He'd started to burn when she spoke, an ignition swift and fierce as the lighting of one of his cousin's matches. He put out his hand, palm forward, to her, still cautious lest she, too, burst into flame.
"What I said to ye, before . . . that I kent ye loved me--"
She stepped forward and pressed her palm to his, her small, cool fingers linking tight.
"What I say to thee now is that I do love thee. And if thee hunts at night, thee will come home."
Under the sycamore, the dog yawned and laid his muzzle on his paws.
"And sleep at thy feet," Ian whispered, and gathered her in with his one good arm, both of them blazing bright as day.
Now for the why I picked this ending out of so many I've encountered over the years. There's no question it's romantic, incredibly so. Not light, fluffy romance, but stayed and (as reading the book would make clear) born out of trial and chance. The characters live in trying times, and both of their life experiences have taught them what really counts in life. The love they share for each other is true in every sense.
While reading the book I couldn't quite bring myself to like Rachel overmuch, and upon reflection she still doesn't stick out to me for any specialness of character, and the formulated love-triangle she's a part of bored me. But Ian. Oh, Ian. From the moment we first meet him as a young boy, I knew I was going to like him. I hoped he'd be important and that we'd get to see him grow up, and I was delighted that both desires were rewarded. Until Diana Gabaldon cruelly took him away from her readers in the fourth book. He returns at the end of the fifth book, but it isn't until near the middle of the sixth that we find out why he's returned to his family. When we do, it is revealed in one of the most emotionally-driven scenes in the Outlander series, and if you don't shed a tear reading it YOU HAVE NO HEART.
Most (who am I kidding, all) of you know of my fondness for the angst-ridden males with very few redeeming qualities. Ian's a shining example of a character that doesn't fit that mold, but I love him more for it. He's got a dry, witty sense of humor, is humble, always getting into trouble, gentle, strong, a warrior, loves his family.... I could go on and on. He does have a bit of a dramatic past, due to his time with the Mohawk and the circumstances for his leaving the tribe. It plays heavily into his plot in the sixth book, but in An Echo in the Bone he is able to overcome that pain - and he gets in good "screw you" moment in doing so, which was so perfect. He's not exactly a virtuous male, but he's a gentleman. Everything he's experienced has made him into a person that really doesn't fit in with the times he lives in. He uses his oddness to his advantage when he can, but he knows what others think of him. He's deeply contemplative and even without his frequent trips away for soul-searching (and obvious exposition declarations), he's the kind of character you know feels quite keenly how it is the people he loves who tie him to his home. The saying "actions speak louder than words" sort of blurs for him. He is a man of action, but when he says he'll do something, he'll do it. He's a Highlander, so you know he's got that lovable stubborn streak. Ian'll break your heart and make you laugh. You'll want to cuddle him and (if you're a guy) hope to God he never gets it in his head to attack you.
After finally getting Ian back in book six I was very anxious for him in the seventh. There were plenty of times I was sure that Ian wasn't going to survive through the final chapter (his being stalked by a Scotsman bent on revenge for the accidental death of his wife THE ENTIRE NOVEL was really stressful for me), so him surviving - a little worse for wear - and getting the girl? Oh, you can be sure I was crying happy tears.
I guess the simplest way to say why I like this ending so much is because Ian finally gets a bit of happiness. Real happiness. There's no character in this series that deserves it more than him. An Echo in the Bone is my least favorite of the books in this series, and I'm praying that the next, and final, novel isn't as much a disappointment. The plot seemed to go all over the place, and it focused heavily on the one character I really don't care anything for in a cast of dozens spread across the globe and time. A lot of things happened that still make me go, "why did that happen - it wasn't necessary!!!!!!", but there were a few moments I was able to enjoy ("Well then, who the hell am I!" "You're a bloody Papist!"). Over all, though, there is no way that I can say An Echo was better than the book that preceded it. Yes, I had high hopes for it. I thought they were reasonably high, though, since A Breath of Snow and Ashes had its faults (Claire was such a complete Mary-Sue for the majority of the story) but ended so well. And maybe that's the problem. Anything after it was going to be a let down, even the good parts. So here's to hoping book eight washes away the stain book seven left, and ends in a satisfying way - with Ian alive and happy!
Share the ending to a book that has left a lasting impression on you, and why you like it so much. It can be from any book, regardless of your thoughts on the tale it concludes.
I thought this meme was going to be difficult, but when I actually thought about which book I'd pick, the answer was obvious.
Diana Gabaldon's A Breath of Snow and Ashes has the best ending, in the form of two epilogues, I have ever read. They're utterly perfect and tie up the events of the six novels incredibly well. My mom and I agree that we'd both be quite content to let that be the end of the books' canon.
Except for the way the seventh novel, An Echo in the Bone, ends. (For me, at least. I don't know my mother's opinion on it.) In my opinion, An Echo's ending is the one saving grace of the disaster of a book it ends.
The context: Ian (known as Yong Ian to his family, as he's named after his father) is a Highlander by birth, but ran away from home when he was fourteen to join his uncle who had to leave Scotland. After leaving Scotland, Ian had several adventures and mishaps. He was kidnapped and sold into slavery, from which he was successfully freed. Some time after arriving in the colony of North Carolina, he took the place of his cousin's husband's in a deal with a local Mohawk Indian tribe. He was adopted by the tribe and stayed with them for a few years, before being asked to leave for heartbreaking reasons. Ian's a white man, but he bears Mohawk tattoos on his face, so he doesn't exactly fit in in America during the Revolutionary War. After a brief trip to Scotland that was meant to be his permanent homecoming, but where he was an even bigger oddity, Ian returned to the Colonies. The ending scene of An Echo is a conversation between him and Rachel, a young Quaker woman whom he has fallen in love with.
"Ian, thee is thinking something painful, and I would much prefer thee tell me what it is. Has something happened?"
A great many things had happened, were happening all around them, would continue to happen. How could he tell her. . . ? And yet he couldn't not.
"The world is turning upside down," he blurted. "And you are the only constant thing. The only thing I--that binds me to the earth."
Her eyes softened.
"Am I?"
"Ye ken verra well that you are," he said gruffly. He looked away, his heart pounding. Too late, he thought, with a mixture of dismay and elation. He'd begun to speak; he couldn't stop now, no matter what might come of it.
"I know what I am," he said, awkward but determined. "I would turn Quaker for your sake, Rachel, but I ken I'm not one in my heart; I think I never could be. And I think ye wouldna want me to say words I dinna mean or pretend to be something I canna be."
"No," she said softly. "I would not want that."
He opened his mouth but couldn't find more words to say. He swallowed, dry-mouthed, waiting. She swallowed, too; he saw the slight movement of her throat, soft, brown; the sun had begun to touch her again, the nut-brown maiden ripening from winter's pale bloom.
The artillerymen loaded the last of the cannon into a wagon, hitched their limbers to teams of oxen, and with laughter and raucous talk moved up the road towards the ferry point. When they were gone at last, silence fell. There were still noises--the sound of the river, the rustle of the sycamore, and far beyond, the bellowings and crashings of an army on the move, the sound of violence impending. But between them, there was silence.
I've lost, he thought, but her head was still bent in thought. Is she maybe praying? Or only trying to think of how to send me away?
Whichever it was, she lifted her head and stood up, away from the tree. She pointed to Rollo, who was lying couchant now, motionless but alert, yellow eyes following every movement of a fat robin foraging in the grass.
"That dog is a wolf, is he not?"
"Aye, well, mostly."
A small flash of hazel told him not to quibble.
"And yet he is thy boon companion, a creature of rare courage and affection, and altogether a worthy being?"
"Oh, aye," he said with more confidence. "He is."
She gave him an even look.
"Thee is a wolf, too, and I know it. But thee is my wolf, and best thee know that."
He'd started to burn when she spoke, an ignition swift and fierce as the lighting of one of his cousin's matches. He put out his hand, palm forward, to her, still cautious lest she, too, burst into flame.
"What I said to ye, before . . . that I kent ye loved me--"
She stepped forward and pressed her palm to his, her small, cool fingers linking tight.
"What I say to thee now is that I do love thee. And if thee hunts at night, thee will come home."
Under the sycamore, the dog yawned and laid his muzzle on his paws.
"And sleep at thy feet," Ian whispered, and gathered her in with his one good arm, both of them blazing bright as day.
Now for the why I picked this ending out of so many I've encountered over the years. There's no question it's romantic, incredibly so. Not light, fluffy romance, but stayed and (as reading the book would make clear) born out of trial and chance. The characters live in trying times, and both of their life experiences have taught them what really counts in life. The love they share for each other is true in every sense.
While reading the book I couldn't quite bring myself to like Rachel overmuch, and upon reflection she still doesn't stick out to me for any specialness of character, and the formulated love-triangle she's a part of bored me. But Ian. Oh, Ian. From the moment we first meet him as a young boy, I knew I was going to like him. I hoped he'd be important and that we'd get to see him grow up, and I was delighted that both desires were rewarded. Until Diana Gabaldon cruelly took him away from her readers in the fourth book. He returns at the end of the fifth book, but it isn't until near the middle of the sixth that we find out why he's returned to his family. When we do, it is revealed in one of the most emotionally-driven scenes in the Outlander series, and if you don't shed a tear reading it YOU HAVE NO HEART.
Most (who am I kidding, all) of you know of my fondness for the angst-ridden males with very few redeeming qualities. Ian's a shining example of a character that doesn't fit that mold, but I love him more for it. He's got a dry, witty sense of humor, is humble, always getting into trouble, gentle, strong, a warrior, loves his family.... I could go on and on. He does have a bit of a dramatic past, due to his time with the Mohawk and the circumstances for his leaving the tribe. It plays heavily into his plot in the sixth book, but in An Echo in the Bone he is able to overcome that pain - and he gets in good "screw you" moment in doing so, which was so perfect. He's not exactly a virtuous male, but he's a gentleman. Everything he's experienced has made him into a person that really doesn't fit in with the times he lives in. He uses his oddness to his advantage when he can, but he knows what others think of him. He's deeply contemplative and even without his frequent trips away for soul-searching (and obvious exposition declarations), he's the kind of character you know feels quite keenly how it is the people he loves who tie him to his home. The saying "actions speak louder than words" sort of blurs for him. He is a man of action, but when he says he'll do something, he'll do it. He's a Highlander, so you know he's got that lovable stubborn streak. Ian'll break your heart and make you laugh. You'll want to cuddle him and (if you're a guy) hope to God he never gets it in his head to attack you.
After finally getting Ian back in book six I was very anxious for him in the seventh. There were plenty of times I was sure that Ian wasn't going to survive through the final chapter (his being stalked by a Scotsman bent on revenge for the accidental death of his wife THE ENTIRE NOVEL was really stressful for me), so him surviving - a little worse for wear - and getting the girl? Oh, you can be sure I was crying happy tears.
I guess the simplest way to say why I like this ending so much is because Ian finally gets a bit of happiness. Real happiness. There's no character in this series that deserves it more than him. An Echo in the Bone is my least favorite of the books in this series, and I'm praying that the next, and final, novel isn't as much a disappointment. The plot seemed to go all over the place, and it focused heavily on the one character I really don't care anything for in a cast of dozens spread across the globe and time. A lot of things happened that still make me go, "why did that happen - it wasn't necessary!!!!!!", but there were a few moments I was able to enjoy ("Well then, who the hell am I!" "You're a bloody Papist!"). Over all, though, there is no way that I can say An Echo was better than the book that preceded it. Yes, I had high hopes for it. I thought they were reasonably high, though, since A Breath of Snow and Ashes had its faults (Claire was such a complete Mary-Sue for the majority of the story) but ended so well. And maybe that's the problem. Anything after it was going to be a let down, even the good parts. So here's to hoping book eight washes away the stain book seven left, and ends in a satisfying way - with Ian alive and happy!