Finality

As this will be my last analytical post to this blog, I thought it fitting to talk about endings.
I've been obsessed with endings my entire life. I remember reading as a child, racing through a book to get to the resolution: I just had to know how it ended. I would turn the last page of the book and be left with an overwhelming sense of sadness and loneliness. These characters were gone, I know knew their story, and I could never relive it as truly as I had previously watched it.
In my heavily annotated and marked up copy of Shakespeare's Complete Works, The Tempest comes last. Its last lines read: "As you from crimes who pardoned be, let your indulgence set me free," widely accepted to be the last line Shakespeare wrote. He asks to be set free. Bill Watterson remarks that "It's a magical world, Hobbes Old Buddy. Let's go exploring." as Calvin sleds off down a hill. The Odyssey ends with a declaration of peace by the gods.
I've been thinking about this theme as the year has drawn to a close. Many of my friends from Acting Class are leaving, having been older than me. People I have spent years working with are going to vanish next year. Classes are ending and we recently received our schedule for next year, and we can begin planning ahead.
Most notably in my search of endings is House, MD: a TV show that recently aired its finale. After eight years of absolute brilliance, it is drawing to a close. The last episode is incredible, and the last song, "Enjoy Yourself" by Gus Lombardo so perfectly encapsulated the show.
But, now on to Women's Literature. I thought it would be interesting to include the last lines of the books we've read this year, and then try to find trends and patterns, if there are any.
The end of The Handmaid's Tale, before the Historical Notes reads: "And so I step up, into the darkness within;or else the light." (Atwood, 307).
Jasmine ends with: "I am out the door and in the potholed and rutted driveway, scrambling ahead of Taylor, greedy with wants and reckless with hopes," (Mukerjee, 241).
The play, The Vagina Monologues ends with: "I was there in the room. I remember," (Ensler, 125).
The last piece of fiction we read, Mrs. Dalloway ends with: "For there she was," (Woolf, 172).
I see a trend of being unfinished. Leaving a story open ended. 2 of the 4 books end with a new journey beginning, and Mrs. Dalloway has the possibility of the same. None end with dramatic resolutions, as many plays do. None end with a definite statement. They all (other the The Vagina Monologues) talk about a new beginning. A future. A hope.
The final episode of House is called "Everybody dies". The end of the season has dealt with someone very close to House becoming terminally ill. I think this is true: everyone must die. Perhaps then, literature is the one thing that is able to stay alive. Clarissa will be forever walking down those stairs, listening to clocks tick. Offred will forever be in captivity, in love with Nick, trying to escape. Jasmine will always be between states, between identities. Hamlet will always question "To be or not to be" until the end of civilisation. Shakespeare, Homer, Woolf have all been outlived by their writing. It has made them, in so many ways, immortal. Made them memorable. Made them great. They have affected generation after generation, changed people's lives, transformed the world we live in today. They cannot die.