This reaction could be a by-product of my fluctuating inner cynic, but there was something about the ending of My Year of Meats that I found really disturbing.

In a book where nothing comes easily and each issue is multifaceted, conflicting motivations abound, and no character is infallible, it seemed a little too easy to conclude the narrative with such a simple resolution. The way everything works out so perfectly is deeply unsettling. Akiko  finally escapes her abusive relationship and enjoys the freedom of exploring America and new experiences. Jane, upon realizing and accepting the magnitude of her feelings for Sloan, overcomes her inner conflict and ends up happily reunited with him.

Losing the baby almost seems like a compromise inserted simply to make Jane’s happy ending seem less artificial by adding that bittersweet tinge to it. It’s like, “Hey, she was able to make the breakthrough documentary anyway, and finally found  lasting happiness in love. Oh, wait… that’s too simple! Let’s have her lose her baby just before all of this so that it doesn’t seem like a complete narrative cop-out.” Perhaps Ozeki simply wasn’t sure how to resolve this, and ended up taking the path of least resistance. Although that kind of compromise is definitely inconsistent with her previous plot choices, ending a book like this can be difficult. How do you conclude a story this powerful without leaving the audience unsatiated and longing for more?

Either way, as perfect and romantic as her final scenes with Sloan are, the situation just didn’t ring true for me. Shouldn’t it be enough that she creates this political, emotionally loaded work of art that astounds the public and finally inspires the widespread social and political awareness that she seeks all along? It is especially important to realize that her documentary has, in a way, replaced her child. Any artist will tell you that the process of creation is exactly like this. It becomes all-consuming, and the artist can be described as “giving birth” to his or her work. Good art (for its creator) is painful, obsessive, inspiring, exultant, draining, blinding, demanding of attention and love.

Why does Jane need Sloan when she finally has her art, just as she always wanted it to be, on her own terms? He is extra, superfluous. Obligatory conventional romantic fulfillment. And Jane already has exactly what she needs.