Miss Demeanors

                 There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story.”― Frank Herbert Readers seem to have very definite opinions about endings. I know I do. But I wonder if writers feel the same way about endings when they have a pen in hand.It seems there are three choices for writers. An ending can delight as in “happily ever after.” Or it can devastate. I can still hear my daughter sobbing inconsolably at the end of Ann Karenina. Then there is the dangle. I’m talking Dennis Lehane’s Shutter Island or even more maddening to me, Anita Shreve’s The Last Time They Met.            You might have guessed, I’m a happily ever after girl. After thirty years of practicing family law, I am without apology when I say I not only want, I need a happy ending. Not that I haven’t been riveted by tragic finales like those in Mystic River and Ordinary People. But when I write, I try to give my readers a resolution that is satisfying if not entirely happy.            What about you, my fellow Miss Demeanors? What do you look for when you read? Is it different than when you write? Delight, dangle, or devastate? Alexia: It depends on the book. For a stand-alone mystery I like a nice, tidy ending. The murderer is exposed and brought to justice, order is restored. For a series, subplot cliff-hangers are okay as long as the main plot’s crime is wrapped up by the end of the book. If I’m reading comedy, I want a happy ending. If I’m reading satire, horror, or sci-fi, I don’t mind danglers and not-so-happy endings. I don’t read romances but I might if one ended with boy-doesn’t-get-girl or girl-realizes-she’s just-fine-on-her-own-and-doesn’t-need-to-waste-time-chasing-after-unobtainable-men. The only type of endings I can’t stand are those that don’t follow from the set-up in the rest of the book, those that are too convenient, and those that are utterly bleak, mean-spirited, or promote the idea that life is a miserable hell and humans are irredeemable. Tracee: Anna Karenina gets a pass. It was a tragedy from start to finish, so no one could have expected anything less than a sad ending. I don’t need a neatly wrapped happy ending (a la Jane Austin with wedding bells and applause) but I do like a sense of completion. Preferably not a grim one. I think that when you write a series you almost have to commit to an ending that provides some sort of hope for the future, or the hero/heroine would always start the next book arising from the ashes of tragedy. Perhaps once in a while you can get away with it, but rarely, I think. Now that you’ve suggested it, in the future I will aim for a mix of delight and dangle as the characters move from the edge of devastation in the next to end pages! Robin: I’m a dangler. The closure of a tidy ending is satisfying, like Sue Grafton’s method of using the report submission style, but an artfully crafted dangle stays with me longer. I’ll ponder the continuing lives of the characters. I lean towards dangling in my own work, too. Besides being fun to read, the resolution-but-not-necessarily-an-ending is also fun to write. Paula (Munier, our occasional Miss Demeanor): I like happy endings, or, failing that, hopeful endings. No “Life is shit” endings for me. Susan: I like it when I don’t see an ending coming. Too often I feel like I know from the first chapter how it’s all going to wind up. I also love the sort of ending that makes me sit and think for a while. I’ve always loved the ending of To Kill a Mockingbird because it’s so emotional and yet restrained. I’ve often pictured Atticus sitting there, waiting for his son to wake up. How different it would be if she showed  Jeb tapdancing the next day. Cate: I like “life is complicated” endings.   

French Comfort Food, by Hillary Davis, one of my favorite cookbooks,    How would you like a buttery grilled cheese sandwich filled with Cheddar cheese, tomatoes, and bacon right now? Or perhaps a tuna melt on rye bulging with melted Gruyere? Maybe a plate of creamy macaroni and a combination of three cheeses, not one? Too plebian? We could add chunks of lobster.            Not feeling savory at the moment? Could I get you a plate of warm chewy chocolate chip cookies right out of the oven? Or a piece of apple pie with feathery light flaky crust? No? I could dish up a piece of moist golden cake with homemade chocolate buttercream frosting if you’d prefer.            If you aren’t hungry by now, you may not be human. Just the very description of these foods, often categorized as “comfort food” is enough to make a reader salivate, which is why most readers and writers are captivated by food in stories. Food helps to create atmosphere and lends authenticity to an environment. I defy you to read Barbara Ross’s Maine Clambake series and not crave lobster. When Stone Barrington cuts into a steak at the legendary, now defunct, Elaine’s in Stuart Woods’ wildly popular series, most readers find their mouths mysteriously open.            Food enhances reading. Food enriches writing. Food brings joy to life. Cozy mystery writers have long understood this. Joanne Fluke (Blueberry Pie Murder), Diane Mott Davidson (Sticks and Scones), Lucy Burdette (Killer Takeout), and Edith Maxwell (When the Grits Hit the Fan) all have written popular series with variations in food themes.            Other mystery subgenres feature food regularly. Olivier cooks up a gastronomic storm at his bistro in Louise Penny’s Inspector Gamache series, while Clara serves comfort food to friends at her kitchen table. From Steak Frites with Mayonnaise to Coq Au Vin with a Hint of Maple, readers feast on Canadian specialties when not merely content to munch on a steady diet of buttery croissants.            Readers, myself included, have been driven to patronize restaurants featured in books. Margaret Truman’s books enticed me to try the old Le Lion D’Or in Washington D.C. when my daughter was in college there. My husband didn’t get it, especially when the tab arrived. He was on board when we headed to a Spanish restaurant in Harvard Square where William Tapply had his protagonist, Brady Coyne frequenting.            Writers use food more than gratuitously. It can be part of the plot as in Tana French’s recent release, The Trespasser, where a romantic dinner prepared by the murder victim but never shared, became an integral part of the story.            In Permanent Sunset, I chose the bride’s choice of her wedding menu as a window into her soul. I later used the wedding meal, which was never served to guests due to the untimely death of the bride, to color a police officer corrupt and to paint a portrait of the surviving family members.            I happen to love writing about food, possibly because I love reading about it (I own a few hundred cookbooks and this is after “downsizing”), only slightly less than cooking it. For me, it is as much pleasure deciding what to serve my characters as it is what to serve guests in my home. I recently created a meatloaf dinner for my grieving protagonist, which she quite enjoyed.            Fortunately, calories don’t count when you are writing about food. Only pleasure. What brings you please when you read or write about food?                       Dessert from Hillary Davis