Dear
Vina Jie-Min Prasad: This Is the Only Ending I Can Remember
by Aurora Harkelroad
I've always found endings almost impossible to
remember. I'm not sure if it's how my reading speed increases as I near the
end, anxious to find out what happens. I'm not sure if it was just a bad
ending. I'm not sure if I just got bored or disappointed before I finished it
and dropped the book entirely. Probably a combination of those three. However,
the endings that stuck the landing and are still held dear to my heart, managed
to leave me with a surprised feeling, regardless of whether I remember it or not.
It's that feeling you get when you've run out of
pocket change for coffee but someone else felt motivated enough to pay it
forward that day. Or even more unexpected when someone gets the wrong coffee,
and offers it to you, discovering that it's not exactly what you wanted, but
what you needed for the day. The strife thrust upon you by the story is
suddenly warped into pleasant surprise, without loss of the weight of the mood.
It's alchemy at its finest, turning tragedy into bliss. And the reader doesn't
want more answers, they want more of the world you made.
Spirited Away,
one of my beloved childhood films, was one of the stories that for a long time
I never knew the ending to. As most small children do, watching a favorite film
becomes a daily ritual, and part of that ritual was falling asleep before the
movie ended. Eventually, VHS tapes were no longer a thing, and I lost my copy
of Spirited Away (yes, I had it on
VHS, can I join the old person club yet?). It bothered me years later to not
remember the name, but fortunately a friend re-introduced me to the film and
everything came back to me. Except the ending. After re-watching, the ending
itself is very apparent from the beginning. However, every other thread in the
plot that tied so neatly in with the
primary thread were less so. Every character found resolve through helping Chihiro
find a solution to her problem, combining everything together into a neat
package as her resolve was found.
So many unexpected places of closure were found for
every character in another's doing. Haku's entire story thread line as a
mysterious helper character was brought to the forefront through his connection
to Chihiro, tears and everything. I won't spoil if you haven't watched it
already. But fair warning: the closure granted by Spirited Away makes people seek more of the same universe, so
prepare to fall in love with this film. Brilliant aesthetics and character
development aside, it's the unexpected victories that add a spark of magic to
the story, much like the unexpected victories in our own lives. Other Studio Ghibli
films have the same effect, lending its reputation of leaving audiences
dumbstruck with the warm fuzzies. Occasionally, Diana Wynne Jones’ novels have
a similar device of sudden combined resolves, although she makes use of
Chekhov's Gun rather than taking an entirely different subplot. While
unexpected threads coming together can make the world feel complete again, it's
entirely different from Chekhov's Gun, and tends to give a vibe of greater
emotional impact.
Left looking for the sudden serendipitous moments in
my day that determine the direction I go in with a slight aftertaste of whimsy
in the back of my mind, it's nice to think every once in a while things will
work out despite all odds.
Aurora,
ReplyDeleteI'm delighted by the idea of a strong ending being one that makes you want more -- not because you're dissatisfied, but because that story and its world was so deeply satisfying. Stories feed our hunger, and that hunger is as real as the need for food, sometimes. Why wouldn't it make sense that we would come to hunger for more of something when we discover it's made just the way we want?
(And now I'm struck by the unintended parallel to food as a theme in SPIRITED AWAY...)
Best,
TT