The limits of miscommunication are determined by what is wanted and how badly, the nature, quality, and intensity of the opposition to its gratification, and the variety of actions employed to prevail.

I know this sounds like dialog is a gladiatorial encounter, but read the first scene from A STREETCAR NAMED DESIRE and go line by line, analyzing how Blanche and Stella dance around the core issue: Does Blanche have a home with her sister? (Answer: It depends. On Stanley.)

I’m guessing, since I don’t know the story at the heart of the trilogy you mentioned, but it sounds as though the author was trying to sustain suspense by creating tension then delaying its release — except, if you do that, it’s unfair not to provide the release. That’s like creating an itch and not letting the person scratch–ever. Frustrating? Oh yeah.

If there is a secret dividing two people, the reader always wants to see the airing of the secret, for it shows maturity, strength, and courage on the part of the person with the secret to at last come clean. If that doesn’t happen, we need to feel that the concealment turns out to be the sadder but wiser choice.

Kessie: You put your finger on the point exactly. One, variety is more interesting than a droning similitude, no matter how raucous. Two, no matter how fanciful, there needs to be a core emotional truth to a scene — and the fact is, no matter how opposed two people might be, they still listen to each other and converse intelligibly at times out of a need to better understand what’s happening so they can adjust their own motives and actions accordingly. Constant conflict is pointless conflict. In dialog, it’s dueling clamor.

Every now and then, the boxers return to their corners, suss out their opponent’s tactics, and when the bell rings again, they return to the foray — jab, feint, dodge, dance, swing — but the purpose is to connect.

David