A lot of times, when romance readers talk about why they read romance, they mention the “Happy Ever After,” or “HEA,” as we’ve shorthanded it.

And that is the same reason many of us don’t read literary fiction, because there’s often an UNHappy Ever After, and that is unfulfilling, not to mention depressing.

For me, however, I’ve come to realize that what I require is a Satisfying Ending. I don’t need it to be happy, I just need it to be resolved. And, sometimes, literary fiction doesn’t resolve things, it just shows us that our miserable lives continue on and on past the book.

I like reading genre books because the point of the book is usually reaching some sort of conclusive ending: The murder is solved, the battle is won, the fantastical planet is saved. Something that makes you feel as though you’re not missing anything, like the world will continue as you’ve come to understand it even though the last page has been read and absorbed.

For example, I was thinking of one of my favorite authors, Bernard Cornwell, and his trilogy of the Archer’s Tale; the overall goal of the main character is to find the Holy Grail, but there are just as large goals that are begun, and concluded, in each book. Fabulous, fabulous writing and plotting. Back to romance, Elizabeth Hoyt does a similar thing with her Four Soldiers quartet. Each story has a traditional HEA, with a larger goal drawn out over the course of the four books. Ken Bruen‘s Jack Taylor series reveals more about the main character over the course of the two books I’ve read, and also satisfactorily solves the mystery.

In some ways, a good ending is like a good dessert: It can make up for a lot of faults in the meal. A bad dessert can literally leave a bad taste in your mouth, just as an unsatisfactory ending can ruin all the hard work the author did in the first three-quarters of the book.

I have read one book where an open ending worked for me, and that was Michel Faber‘s The Crimson Petal And The White, a historical fiction book that was just luscious. I had been warned, however, that the ending wasn’t traditional, so I was prepared.

How about you? Do all your endings have to be happy? What book has been ruined for you by the ending? What authors end books particularly well?

Megan

PS: A new Risky is coming to town! Wait for her arrival sometime next week!

Regency heroes and heroines worry so much about what people will say if they do certain things: Get married, not get married, drive in a carriage alone with a person of the opposite sex, wear an inappropriate garment.

It must’ve been horribly claustrophobic. And yet–I realized the other day that I, too, am living in a fishbowl, and I have to watch what I do and say (although I am continuing to dampen my chemise, thanks very much!). See, I live in a semi-attached house, which means that there are houses rightnext to me on either side. Our neighbors are both lovely couples, thank goodness, and they have kids younger than my son, which means he gets to be all authoritatively older, and he likes that.

But I am on Twitter, as are the two husbands on either side of me. And we follow each other, which is kinda fun. But if I Twitter something–ahem–inappropriate, they know. Like when I talk about things that annoy me about romance novels, like size issues and such. Like that.

Or something that might be construed as too personal: One day, a few weeks ago, I wrote a Tweet that said, “One should not begin a huge fight at 11:45 in the evening.” Being wryly acerbic, as is my wont. The next day, the wife of one of the guys said she’d heard about it, not in a gossipy kind of way, but just in an ‘I’ve been there, too’ way. But it was weird (we fight very quietly, however, so she didn’t know what it was about).

So–what fun facts do you know about your neighbors? Have you ever been surprised by what they know about you? What are you hiding from them? Do you like or dislike social networks because of the scrutiny?

Megan
PS: yes, I have talked about the internet being like the ton before, clearly I am obsessed.

This coming weekend is bittersweet, I think, for moms: On the one hand, we get to relax, eat lavishly decadent muffins, be appreciated for what we do.

On the other hand? It’s one day.

That is a bummer. Not to mention, I think if most moms were honest, ones with young children, at least, what we’d say we want most is time to ourselves, away from our families, with a nap or two to take without guilt (yes, I am speaking for myself, but I think that other moms feel this way too, no? Tell me if I am wrong).

Instead, what we get is eggs benedict and a chance to spend time with our kids and our spouse, as though we don’t spend enough time with the former as it is. The latter is off working or whatever usually, but it’s not like we can do what we’d really like to do with our spouse when the kids are around. Just sayin’.

So today I’d like to invite all of us moms–and working women in general–to share what they REALLY want as a treat. No guilt, no judgment, you know your family members aren’t gonna be popping by here or anything.

Tell me what you want, what you really, really want.

I want:

A chocolate chip scone.
A latte with whole milk.
A beer at 2 in the afternoon.
After going to the gym.
A chance to read by myself on the couch.
Wine later.
At least two naps.
My husband to tell me how nice I look.
An obscure noir movie to watch in the evening.

And I think that covers it. How about you?

And Happy Mother’s Day!

Are newspapers–traditional, black and white, printed on paper–dying? Print magazines are shuttering faster than the doors of Almack’s at 11 o’clock, and newspapers are seeing huge drops in circulation and advertising as well.

Newspapers used to be how everyone got their news, even if it was weeks late. Now, of course, the internet’s ubiquity means that newspapers are past time once they’re printed. My dad’s former newspaper, the Boston Globe, is facing possible closure by its owner, the New York Times, because of union negotiations (thanks to friend HatRack for sending me info about this!).

Back in the Regency, newspapers were as partisan as the New York Post is now, which is to say, newspapers were unabashedly partisan; which paper you subscribed to was dictated by your politics. The British government charged a stamp tax on newspapers, which made them prohibitively costly for all but the wealthy. It’s safe to say, however, based on our fiction and common sense, that newspapers were handed around from person to person and devoured.

I’m torn about the death of newspapers myself; on the one hand, I like the purported objectivity they espouse. On the other, I can get an enormous amount of news on the internet for free, and spending money on a newspaper is another luxury I’ve cut out of my daily life. But on the third hand, I don’t want to rely on news sources like the Daily Show and the Huffington Post for my information. The fourth hand almost doesn’t bear mentioning, but newspapers write on subjects I wouldn’t normally search out, so they keep me more informed than I might otherwise choose to be.

The heroine of my book, A Singular Lady, wrote a newspaper column detailing her hunt for a husband. If Titania were around today, she’d be blogging on the same subject.

How about you? Do you still get a hard copy of a newspaper? Where do you get your news?