At this point, our Professor (a grandson of the venerable Premchand, but admirable for his own qualities) pointed out that it wasn't simply Ms. Rand's at fault. A good number of authors face the dilemma of finding the perfect ending for their novel, and often come up with a mechanical end, which does no justice to the exceptional innovation of idea with which they started their work.
And we agreed that it was a fairly good point. If you write a novel mocking an artificially perfected world, like 'Brave New world', how do you end it, except for the cliche' end of a world turning on itself or a personal tragedy? In other words, a complete anathema of the 'They all lived happily ever after'. It appears that the modern writer has taken a directly opposite line from that taken by its predecessor.
But can a good story possibly have only the two diametrically opposite ends of complete catastrophe or the promise of the moon?
Perhaps as a mid-way many authors have resorted to ending their works without a conclusion. Surprisingly this strategy seems to work well, even though the readers are often left with a unsatisfactory taste on their palate. And yet days after days, readers appreciate the ambiguous non-ending. Lawrence can end his exquisite work (Women in Love)with a simple statement 'I don't believe it' and readers clap with vigor.
For that matter, many a writers have resorted to ending the novel with a dialogue. Coetzee ends 'Disgrace' with a simple conversation over a dog: 'Yes, I am giving him up' - encompassing a man's defeat and submission. And Maugham ends his autobiographical masterpiece with a simple 'Dear!', capturing the hollowness of the song and dance very simply.
I am sure everyone has them. I particularly like what Pirsig says at the end of 'Zen...', because it emphasizes the happiness of the moment, without the mirage of its perpetuity:
Trials never end, of course. Unhappiness and misfortune are bound to occur as long as people live, but there is a feeling now, that was not here before,One author, whom I believe to be the best when it comes to endings is Orwell. He perfectly rounds off the 'Animal farm' and brings us back to the beginning. And carries to a fitting end a great tale of dystopia in 1984: 'He loved Big Brother'.
and is not just on the surface of things, but penetrates all the way through:
We've won it. It's going to get better now. You can sort of tell these things.
Then there is Kundera in Identity, who brings in the author directly in the foreground - asking questions of the reader: 'Who was dreaming?'
And how can I forget my recent two favorite authors.
'He'll come back.' But perhaps a reassurance offered for herself, Khadija thinking of her man at the oilfields. (Nadine Gordimer, The Pickup). In one single statement Gordimer defines both the acceptance of an alien and the difference between acceptor and the accepted.
He changed his clothes, clean shirt, trousers, jacket, his best shoes. He stuck the pistol in his belt and left. (Jose Saramago, The Double). Doesn't that statement hold so much promise of future action, no indecision to be entertained anymore?