Ramona Depares enjoys three blockbusters that topped charts, only to discover that the each story goes belly-up right at the end. Spoilers aplenty are present.

Some books start out at the top of the literary rollercoaster, full of promise and genius, only to take a sharp nosedive in the final chapters.

I started reading these books on a trail of high-expectations and finished the last chapter with a shot of disappointment and a side of frustration

The very first sentence hooks you in, the characters could be your friends, your lover, your neighbours or your worst nightmare and you just can’t have enough of them.

Then it’s time to wind up the story and your former favourite author pulls a fast one and backs out, leaving you lumped with a bland ending that should have never made it past the editor’s red pen.

I started reading the following books on a trail of high-expectations and finished the last chapter with a shot of disappointment and a side of frustration.

Horns, by Joe Hill

Joe Hill happens to be one of my favourite, recently-discovered authors, so it is with a heavy heart that I include his book on a list that has anything but the best works on it.

Horns starts out with the best of intentions – the murder of a beautiful girl, beloved by all; a suitably misunderstood hero; enough sex to keep things interesting without descending into the realm of the ridiculous; a shot of dark comedy; and a premise so weird (I mean, you wake up one day and find horns sprouting out of your head?) that only Stephen King’s son could have dreamed it up.

What goes wrong? Everything, about four chapters before it all ends, which is when Hill seems to take the reader on an extended acid trip, with the horror elements morphing into the surreal so that you’re never quite sure what’s happening.

The conclusion itself is plausible, its execution... not so much.

The Little Stranger, by Sarah Waters

Sarah Waters abandons the lesbians (see Fingersmith) to try her hand at a ghost story and fails miserably.

Not that this isn’t one hell of a scary ride, I hasten to add. At certain points in the book not only did I have to make sure the light was on at all times, but I also kept my hand on my car keys, ready to flee should my humble abode suddenly display any of the disturbing characteristics of Hundreds Hall, the main star of the story.

That’s right, the protagonist is a gothic house so eerily haunted that every time any of the characters is foolhardy enough to venture into a room solo, you actually find yourself shouting “No! You fool!”

There’s only one problem – the haunting itself never, ahem, materialises. It’s all scary shadows here, presumed poltergeists there, questions everywhere and then... everyone dies.

Which is all very well and in keeping with the best slasher scarefests, but not when the story fails to find a resolution.

Was there ever a ghost? Or is the only survivor a murderer? Or is it both? Gives new meaning to the phrase ‘keep them guessing’. I closed the book feeling cheated.

Gone Girl, by Gillian Flynn

I’m very well aware that criticising the most kick-ass twist in the history of storytelling since Bruce Willis showed us that breathing is optional for a main character is not very fashionable. But criticise I must.

I lapped up Gillian Flynn’s third novel in one sitting. Only one story arch is guaranteed to pull in the punters faster than hot chick who winds up dead and that’s a hot chick who winds up missing.

Add perfect pacing and yet another misunderstood hero and bingo. Let the movie offers reel in.

Then the twist hits and your jaw drops. Oh my God it’s brilliant, you think to yourself as the extent of the deception sinks in.

Oh my God it’s perfect, you think to yourself as you realise that the story isn’t over and there’s still enough reading material left to justify opening that extra packet of Oreos. And oh my God it’s... hold on.

You rearrange your thoughts. Why is the author suddenly cannibalising her perfect story? Our star lad Nick Dunne would never be such a doormat! And no police officer would fall for the amazingly annoying Amy’s obvious lies! Ms Flynn, don’t you dare mess with us at this stage.

Sadly, she dares. And the end result redefines the very meaning of damp squib.