Mariana by Susanna Kearsley

Title: Mariana

Author: Susanna Kearsley

Series: n/a

The end ruined the whole thing

So I finished the audiobook last night, and I was left feeling so unbalanced and unsatisfied that I was quite worked up. And got more worked up the longer I thought about it. I free-wrote a rant that didn’t make much sense, and, recognizing that, I didn’t post it anywhere and let it rest.

I did not rest, however. I got the ebook from the library and flipped through and reread every interaction with Iain, Richard, and Freya.

You know how people say sometimes you only find/see things when you’re actively looking for them? Even actively looking for hints of the twist, I had to squint and turn my head and make all manner of faces to try to see them. I get that it was supposed to be a surprise, and so the hints needed to be well-hidden, but, regarding Iain, at least, they weren’t so much well-hidden as deliberately vague, ambiguous, and easily explained by other factors. It was almost like playing a game with Kearsley, except unbeknownst to me, she was the kind of nasty person who, instead of hiding something for me to find, she decides the best way to win is to change the rules—and not hide the thing at all. If it isn’t there, then I can’t find it, right? She wins no matter what I do.

That’s what reaching the end of this story felt like. As if I’d been searching for something through the whole book, and upon reaching the end, Kearsley grins wickedly at me and brings the thing out from behind her back. “That’s not fair!” I exclaim. “That’s not how the game’s played.” And she merely says, “I hid it, didn’t I? You just weren’t clever enough to find it.” Me:

Iain’s talents are wasted as a gardener. He should be a spy, because he could deny any knowledge until the last breath is tortured from his body.

I could have loved this story. It was a beautiful premise. It evoked emotion in me that I wasn’t prepared to give. When baby Johnnie was brained and killed, I thought I would throw up. (I have a baby niece about his age; the thought of it being her… I’m nauseated just remembering.) And when Richard died, I balled. Like, seriously, I was sobbing before Mariana shed her first tear. My eyes were still swollen when I finally turned out the light hours later. I knew something tragic had to happen in order for the future to play out as it does, but I still wasn’t prepared.

I’ve always felt, personally, that a book’s highest highs should equal its lowest lows. Even as I endured that dark September night, I was anticipating the glorious reunion that would surely equal it.

And I didn’t get it. Thus the feeling of being unbalanced and unsatisfied.

To be clear, it’s not that I didn’t want Julia to end up with Iain; I liked Iain more than I liked Geoff, not that Geoff did anything wrong. I was fine with them being together in the end. What I disliked was how their coming together was written. It was the execution of the thing, not the thing itself.

Furthermore, anyone who tries to argue the “message” of the story with me, just don’t. Seeing with the soul instead of the eyes is a beautiful sentiment, and would have been a very profound theme for the story…if Kearsley had followed through with it. Julia needed to stop trying to see Richard in Geoff simply because he looked like him and truly register the vibes of home and comfort she got from Iain. Does she? No. Not even a little bit. Iain finally reveals himself because he got sick of waiting for her to recognize his soul. Literally, that is what happens. It ruins the entire point. Boom. Destroyed. Kearsley should have taken Freya’s advice and let it be, let Julia come to that revelation on her own, because forcing it on her removes every ounce of bleeding impact it could have.

Bah. Just bah humbug.

Do you know how frustrating it is to be completely enamored and on board with a story until the last three-freaking-percent?!

Also, I have questions. I don’t like being left with questions. It’s the easiest way to piss me off as a reader. Or a movie-goer, for that matter.

This novel could have been brilliant. It could have been one I revisit time and time and time again. But the way its conclusion betrayed me… No.