The Ending That Ruins Otherwise Perfect Thrillers
Dear authors, it’s time to reconsider your narrative choices
I just finished the Mina & Vincent trilogy by Camilla Lackberg and Henrik Fexeus (spoilers incoming), and an otherwise riveting experience left me with a sour aftertaste. This is not the first time, and I know that for a thriller glutton like me, it will not be the last. But we need to talk about the “multiple personality” ending and why it’s so wrong.
It’s often an insult to the reader.
The basic principle of thrillers relies on the reader’s ability to gather clues and develop theories, separating clues from red herrings. The reader is a crucial part of the narrative experience in this genre.
More often than not, authors who resort to the “multiple personality” ending never give the readers a single clue. Sure, you get the “wow factor,” but it’s pretty meaningless if you lose your readers’ trust. The wow factor is much more satisfying when the reader ends the book with an “I should have seen that coming! It makes so much sense!” feeling.
In the whole book, we are led to believe Vincent is on the autistic spectrum. I know it’s not impossible to have Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) and be neurodivergent, but it’s not fair not to give the reader any signs. Coming up with a far-fetched ending robs readers of the satisfaction of joining the pieces of the puzzle. And I live for that feeling.
It’s a harmful misrepresentation.
DID (yes, nobody calls it multiple personalities anymore, so stop that) is a way for our brains to process trauma. Specifically, childhood trauma. But, somehow, people with DID often end up as the villains of the story.
Research suggests an individual with DID would most likely harm themselves, not another human being
I have to give it to Lackberg and Fexeus: Vincent was not violent. But it’s usually the case in myriad other books (I’m looking at you, Cristina Higueras). People like me find solace in books, and they are part of our coping mechanisms and number one in our wellbeing toolbox. So it’s especially hurtful to find perpetuated mental health stigma in what you expect to be your haven.
If you’re going to do it, do it right.
Alters (this is the term to call the different personalities) are not hallucinations. They are grosso modo, inhabitants of one single body. So, portraying DID as schizophrenia is ignorant and spreads misinformation. If authors want to come up with a mental disease that’s a hybrid between DID and schizophrenia, I’m sure it has its place in some genre. But not in a realistic crime thriller.
Languages have thousands of words, tools, and figures of speech to help authors describe exactly what they want. So why are we still describing alters as visual hallucinations?
DID, like so many other mental illnesses, has numerous other symptoms than having alters, such as losing track of time. Some of them are actually way more interesting than what most authors are currently showing. Did you know alters can speak languages that the host doesn’t know? It’s mind-blowing! However, these cognitive symptoms often go underrepresented. Moreover, DID is not a lifetime unshakeable curse. Integration is a personal choice, and it’s possible in some cases with the help of a mental health professional.
I get it. The human psyche is a fascinating topic. But just for once, I’d love to see the DID character as the protagonist in a romance novel or a badass hero in a sci-fi piece. Because as long as writers keep overplaying and misrepresenting mental health problems, people who suffer, people like me, will remain silent.
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