“The Ending Writes Itself”
By Evelyn Clarke
HarperCollins Publishers
As a young reader, I cut my teeth on mysteries: first yellow-spined Nancy Drews, then dozens of Agatha Christies, with the occasional foray into Sherlock Holmes.
I also, from a young age, wanted to become a writer, so I dedicated years of study and work toward that goal — during which time my once-rosy view of the publishing industry grew more clear-eyed and jaundiced.
Put together, these experiences make me an ideal reader for “The Ending Writes Itself,” a deliciously enjoyable locked-door mystery that features genre writers as its main characters.
Written by Evelyn Clarke — a nom de plume concocted by V. E. Schwab (“The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue,” “Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil”) and Cat Clarke (“Girlhood,” “Entangled”) — “Ending” begins with seven authors receiving an invitation to an obscure, uninhabited Scottish island owned by the world’s most successful crime writer, Arthur Fletch.
The authors think they’ll be attending an exclusive literary salon for the weekend, but after they arrive, Fletch’s agent and new editor explain that Fletch recently died, leaving the final book of his blockbuster series unfinished.
So much is riding on the book that Fletch’s agent and publisher invite these skilled, hungry midlist writers to try their hand at writing Fletch’s final chapter, offering not only one million dollars as a prize, but also a three-book, one-million-dollar deal with Fletch’s publisher.
“Ending” shifts perspective between various characters, but it’s Priscilla, a Black romance writer always decked out in pink, who provides the best early lowdown on this cast of characters: “There’s [sci-fi writer] Jaxon, a jockish white guy with a faint Texas twang. He’s in his mid-thirties – though the sweatpants, cropped brown hair, and hipster glasses say he’s trying to pass for younger. And [horror writer] Kenzo, an Asian guy — Japanese, if she had to guess — around the same age, and the only non-white person aside from herself in attendance. Dressed in black jeans and an AC/DC shirt, he’s currently losing a battle with the hungry sofa he made the mistake of sitting on. … (Sierra, the female half of married crime fiction team Penn Stonely) is trim in a Pilates-twice-a-week way, flashing a nervous smile. The man beside her is easily a decade older, with salt-and-pepper hair, radiating the smugness that seems to surround most white men in publishing. The assumption that you already know who he is.”
Rounding out the cast is Millie, an enthusiastic YA author whom Sierra describes as “American, obviously, like her, tan skin marked by a smattering of freckles and a mane of blond curls piled on her head. She’s pretty in that Girl Scout sort of way.”
As the seven authors putter around Fletch’s huge, mysterious mansion — talking shop, procrastinating, and getting on each other’s nerves — the safe that holds their phones and laptops counts down to their 72-hour deadline. But then deadly accidents (or are they?) begin happening, and everyone starts to wonder how far an author will go for their shot at the big time.
“Ending” seems at least partly inspired by Agatha Christie’s “And Then There Were None,” which also featured strangers gathered on a remote island. But the added pleasure of “Ending” is its sharp, wryly funny insights about both writers and the publishing industry. (In other words, an Agatha Christie-like set-up with a dash of “Yellowface” satire — and I AM HERE FOR IT.)
Plus, I think the shifting-perspective approach serves the narrative of “Ending’s perfectly, as each glimpse of yet another character’s experience provides a key puzzle piece while also keeping readers guessing.
Admittedly, when things ramped up near the conclusion, it felt like the narrative went from 0 to Autobahn in terms of its violence, making the final scenes seem almost cartoonish.
But up until that point, “Ending” provided this writer and former mystery-loving kid with the most enjoyable literary ride I’d been on in a good while. Your mileage may vary, of course, as it always does, but “Ending” reminded me that sometimes, reading can just be fun.
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