John B. Marek is a storyteller with dirt under his nails who weaves tales inspired by a lifetime immersed in nature. His insightful essays and award-winning fiction delve into the complexities of sustainable living, the heart of rural communities and the thrill of outdoor adventure. You can find more of his writing at johnbmarek.com.
This week, I completed the manuscript for my new novel and sent it to my beta readers for feedback. The book is an outdoor adventure mystery that follows a park ranger as he searches for a lost hiker and uncovers unsettling truths. Writing any novel is challenging, but crafting a mystery comes with its own unique demands. One of the most critical aspects is ensuring that all loose ends are tied up in a way that feels satisfying to the reader. This balance between intrigue and resolution is something I’ve been thinking about lately, especially as I reflect on one of the most celebrated – and unconventional – mystery novels of the 20th century: “Picnic at Hanging Rock” by Joan Lindsay.
Published in 1967, “Picnic at Hanging Rock” tells the story of a group of students from Appleyard College, a fictional girls’ boarding school in Australia, who vanish during a Valentine’s Day picnic at the mysterious Hanging Rock in 1900. The novel focuses on the disappearance of three girls and their governess, as well as the subsequent search and the ripple effects of the tragedy on the school and the surrounding community. What sets this story apart is its refusal to resolve the central mystery. Despite extensive investigations, the fate of the missing characters is never revealed, leaving readers to grapple with the unsettling ambiguity of their disappearance.
Lindsay’s novel is celebrated for its lush, evocative prose and its ability to create an atmosphere of haunting ambiguity. The story is steeped in the natural beauty and eerie mystique of the Australian landscape, with Hanging Rock itself serving as a character – an ancient, brooding presence that seems to defy human comprehension. The book’s power lies in its refusal to provide answers, inviting readers to confront the possibility that some mysteries are simply beyond explanation. This deliberate ambiguity has sparked countless interpretations, ranging from supernatural occurrences to psychological allegories about repressed Victorian sexuality and the tension between civilization and the untamed natural world.
In 1975, director Peter Weir adapted the novel into a film that has since become a landmark in Australian cinema. Weir’s adaptation captures the novel’s dreamlike quality through stunning cinematography, deliberate pacing and a haunting score. By focusing on sensory details – the rustling of leaves, the buzzing of insects and the oppressive heat – Weir amplifies the sense of unease, creating an atmosphere that feels both beautiful and foreboding. Like the book, the film does not resolve the central mystery, instead leaning into the ambiguity and forcing the audience to sit with the discomfort of not knowing. This refusal to provide closure has made “Picnic at Hanging Rock” a story that lingers in the mind long after the final scene fades.
Despite its acclaim, the film did not enjoy widespread distribution in the years following its release. It was unavailable on VHS or DVD for decades and never became a staple of late-night movie marathons. This scarcity, combined with the persistent misconception that it was based on a true story, only added to its mystique. The story’s enduring power lies in its ability to evoke both wonder and dread, leaving readers and viewers haunted by the possibilities. The unresolved mystery becomes a mirror, reflecting our own anxieties and curiosities about the limits of human understanding. It transcends the confines of a traditional mystery, becoming less about solving a puzzle and more about exploring themes of loss, time and the unknowable forces that shape our lives.
This open-ended approach contrasts with more conventional mystery narratives, such as Agatha Christie’s “Halloween Party,” which I recently watched in Kenneth Branagh’s adaptation, “A Haunting in Venice.” In that film, a series of seemingly impossible mysteries unfold over the course of 90 minutes, only to be neatly explained by Hercule Poirot in the final five. While satisfying in its own way, this structure lacks the lingering resonance of “Picnic at Hanging Rock.” Lindsay’s refusal to provide answers invites repeated engagement, as each encounter with the story reveals new layers of meaning and interpretation. This timeless quality has cemented “Picnic at Hanging Rock” as a landmark work in both literature and film, one that continues to captivate and unsettle audiences decades after its creation.
As I worked on finalizing my novel, I found myself reflecting on the delicate balance between mystery and resolution. My story is structured to keep readers engaged without revealing its central conceit until the very end. However, I understand the importance of providing a satisfying conclusion. Unlike “Picnic at Hanging Rock,” my novel won’t leave its central mystery unresolved. Nevertheless, I do intend to leave certain narrative threads slightly open, allowing for further interpretation in future books.
Ultimately, my goal is to weave together the story in a way that offers clarity and a sense of completion while still leaving room for readers to ponder deeper themes. Balancing intrigue with resolution is crucial for creating an impactful ending that resonates long after the final page is turned. In doing so, I hope to honor the journey I’ve taken my readers on, providing them with a conclusion that feels both earned and thought-provoking.