Each time I finished reading a book, the same question would pop into my head:
“Right. So it’s a happy ending. What’s gonna happen after that?”
If they got together after going through hell, what are the chances they’ll stay the same 5 years from now? If he succeeded in getting out of the war-torn country, where’s the guarantee he’s gonna be living well?
How can there be an ending when there basically isn’t one?
Well, obviously I’m not talking about Comprehensive Ophthalmology by AK Khurana.
The ending of that book is chapter 24, no arguments required.
I know these are fictional characters. They don’t exist. The story doesn’t exist. And we know a good ending is when the readers couldn’t question the storyline.
But I’m sceptical. If “they lived happily ever after” doesn’t work in real life, it doesn’t work anywhere else. Barbie should get sued (though I must say most of Barbie movies are superb. Blame it on Hani Fatso that I’m watching them).
How could people sum a whole lifetime into a mere 750-page hardback?
Harry Potter has had 7 books written about him, and with the exception of the first, second and third books, the rest are all as thick as the Oxford Dictionary and yet I’m sure every fan out there wouldn’t mind reading about an 80 year-old Harry.
That’s the thing with us humans. We always need an ending. And by that I don’t mean flipping towards the last page, savouring the last words.
I guess that’s one of the charms of non-fictional books; you’re always sure you’ll get an ending, be it good or bad.
If I were to consider my life as a book, well, I’ve no clue what’s gonna happen 5 years from now, let alone when I’m 85 years old. For my book to have an ending, it’ll have to wait until I’m drawing my last breath.
Only then I’ll be busy struggling to say my syahadah rather than thinking of writing the perfect ending. Huh.
I’ll try to write a proper one next time. Hopefully with some pictures *doubtful*
Till then, adios amigos tos tos!