The cardigan or the chain-mail undies?

I'm thinking about that old cardigan you've got in your bottom drawer. The thing about this cardigan is that it's comfortable. Not too heavy, not too light. You've got loads of flashier clothes: clothes you can dance in, clothes that get you to work, clothes that keep you warm — but that old cardigan just feels right.You put it on and you know what to expect.Stories can be like that. There's something deeply satisfying about a story that takes you along a predictable path. It's like shrugging on one of those comfy pieces of clothing. If we're lucky enough to be read to and sung to as kids, we learn how stories work before we can read. As adults (and accomplished readers, watchers and listeners) we move through stories with finely tuned expectations. We know the drill: this is when our heroes meet peril, this is when they win the battle but not the war; this is when everything falls apart and our heroes must do whatever it takes — and they manage, just. This is where love flourishes. This is where love fails.Of course, modern stories take us in new directions. They play with the idea of storytelling. As film-goers and readers, we've become used to irony, to bittersweet endings, to parallels stories. Books and movies can toy with our expectations and the results can be truly exciting. But I'll always feel a bit ripped off if there isn't a pay-off somewhere along the line. I mean, to clarify, I'll go ANYWHERE with a story if the writing's good: I'll put on the chain-mail undies, people, but give me the tracky daks and the cardigan at the end, please. Fair's fair ...Which is why I'm going to tell you about a clever book that keeps readers' expectations alive but stretches them to the very limits of tolerance. Then it packs its ultimate punch. Look out ... segue approaching. DUCK!So: Questions of Travel by Michelle de Kretser. Clever-clogs readers will remember that this was going to be the book that would save me from the wilderness of not being able to read fiction. The verdict: I am saved and what's more, I'm BREATHLESS from the many shocks in the book, not least of which is the shock of the ending. Questions of Travel begins in 'cardigan' territory: here is a story that lulls us with the ordinary aspects of the lives of its two main characters, Laura and Ravi. The writing is rich and funny, and the details of life and travel are carefully and cleverly drawn. When the surprises come, they come as they do in real life: brutally, fiercely and without warning. You won't forget some of these images easily.The story wends its way through years in the separate lives of Laura and Ravi. Naturally, I expected these two main characters to meet. As the pages flew by, I wondered if my expectations were being toyed with and a small sense of frustration grew. At last, after half a lifetime's disappointments and tragedies, Ravi and Laura are brought together ... and not much happens. Heck, I thought: if they aren't going to fall in love or have some kind of meaningful union, what's the point?Friends, the point wasn't in their meeting. But I didn't discover this until the very last page of the book. The LAST PAGE! I can't spoil the ending for you but suffice it to say that it's a smart book that draws you along for 500 pages and then delivers its sting at the fall of the final curtain.Questions of Travel by Michelle de Kretser: buy it, read it, talk about it. Then tell me about a story that kept you in the dark right until the very end. Tell me what sort of stories make you wriggle out of your 'comfort' (cardigan) zone. Tell me about a story that surprised you, truly.