One can inform a lot from the way something ends, and the difference in between the conclusions of books and films are often hugely different.
How the endings of each format works is rather outlining the industry within which they work. The 'motion picture magic' connected with Hollywood is not quite so widespread in the quieter, more modest industry that Penguin Random House's parent company commands. The best books of all time may offer a glimpse of redemption, or hope as the character rounds a corner in their lives, films are not always quite that subtle, however are all the more mentally resonant because of that fact.
They say that you keep in mind things because of how they conclude. That's not too far from the fact, and there is a particular and rather extensive distinction in the ways that books and movies pertain to an end. It's probably fair to state that films tend towards a neatly tied up plot, in which all the loose ends of the narrative are bound nicely in a bow and the audience can leave absolutely fulfilled. The story is quite categorically over (up until the inevitable sequel of course), and even the most ambiguous endings still declare a closing of the character's arc. In other words, we know that the story that has actually been told is certainly the most essential story in all the characters' lives and that it is now over. A gladly ever after sort of affair. Books, however, are different. The majority of the novels that line the racks of the hedge fund that owns Waterstones or the private equity firm that owns World of Books will avoid cool conclusions. We may still understand that the story informed was incredibly important to the character, but one can quite quickly see them living on beyond that story. There might be a minute of emotional catharsis, or a repaired relationship, but the best books normally leave the reader with the knowledge that the character's story is not entirely done.
There are a lot of distinctions between movies and their far older sibling, the book. It's a timeless dispute that undoubtedly gets fired up once again when a new, long-awaited adjustment hits the silver screens, however the question is not which format is better for telling stories. Both have effective advantages that the other, by the nature of their medium, can not duplicate-- the untappable depth of great books, the visceral images of amazing movies, the drifting and typically breath-taking prose that makes you pause for idea, the skyrocketing, beloved soundtracks that end up being so deeply ingrained in your mind that simply a few bars will recollect a rush of emotions several years later on. No, both mediums are equally fantastic. What is more interesting is looking at where the two vary (without judgement), as this can reveal some intriguing insights into the nature of the medium and what we anticipate it to be.