Happily ever after

Life does not offer fairytale endings. Happiness happens, of course, but then life keeps going, and the next act is never “happily ever after.” Actually, the only ending life offers is death.

But I long for “happily ever after.” I so badly want things to work out nice and tidy and safe. Part of the reason I love stories is they offer a sense of safety, of control—a reprieve from the chaos of living.

But another reason I love stories is they tell me the truth. I don’t want a story about happy people being happy all the time. I want a story about hardship and heroism and sacrifice—the hardest truths about life.

So I want a story to take me to a deep, dark place, then just in the nick of time, to the light, to “happily ever after”—without cheating, without bullshit.

What a task. Tolkien called this sudden, climactic reversal of fortune a “eucatastrophe.” And he found a perfect way to make one happen in The Lord of the Rings. The ring will either destroy our heroes or, by its destruction, save them. The threat becomes the means of victory.

Similarly, consider the rocket strapped to Buzz in Toy Story: it is going to kill our heroes until, at the last moment, it rescues them.

Or take Wickham and Lady Catherine. They might destroy the Bennetts. But no, their actions inadvertently bring Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth together.

But I’m not a stickler about all this. Sometimes the perfect ending is tragic. The colonel dies blowing up the bridge. Mozart dies asking Salieri to forgive him. Moby Dick kills everyone onboard.

If you recognize these stories, you might see a pattern: tragic endings work well when the main character is immoral—or at least flawed. In fact, you could argue these tragic endings are actually happy. Most people root for the whale.