Why do the bad guys get away?

You ignored your coursemate's opinion about George Orwell. Whether or not he was overrated was besides the point, as Big Brother was more important. There was no doubt that he was the bad guy, and he got away. You were sorry for Winston Smith, unable to sense his doom early on. And then you remembered something. (It won't be the upcoming UEFA Euro.) This could be a literary device.

You must take the good and the bad, which authors knew all along. They may have figured it out while they were going to their traveling destination. (You haven't been out of the country, so you have no idea about the stress and fatigue of carrying your belongings. A rolling luggage won't make any difference.) In the case of D.H. Lawrence, it could be his family's background. And then there were the likes of Miss Havisham. You shuddered at the thought of her, unable to comprehend at how one single incident doomed her. You weren't the kind of person. (You missed the deadline to your assignment on three occasions. You were conscious about getting a good grade, but you would look at the bigger picture.) This was fiction, where authors would color their stories with their personal views. Readers won't be able to dispute it, but they could discuss it. In your case, you have a few opportunities. (Write a paper about it, discuss it with your professor and coursemates, and talk about it with your tutor.) And your thoughts turned to other literary characters who got away.

It won't be Sauron. (There wouldn't have been a trilogy if he hadn't thought about that one ring.) You won't consider Malfoy and his parents. (They final chapter of "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" described their apparent stigma.) And you would discount Tom Ripley. (There were enough testimony and documents to prove Patricia Highsmith's misanthropic views.) You thought about it carefully, and came up with the following:

Becky Sharpe (Vanity Fair). Your tutor looked at you stoically when you revealed your displeasure over Becky Sharpe. You even argued about the final chapter, where it was hinted that she may poison her husband. She wondered if your opinion would remain unchanged if Becky Sharpe was a man. You were speechless. There would be divided opinion on strong women. Machiavelli's quote ("The end justifies the mean.") may only apply to the menfolk. If Anna Wintour were a man, then there might not be a draft of "The Devil Wears Prada".

Justice Lawrence John Wargrave (And Then There Were None). You were terrified while reading this novel by Agatha Christie. The suspect killed himself in an attempt to avoid arrest by the police, which was unfair. But you sensed it early on. (The nursery rhyme, where the title of the book was based on, would reveal that much.) Why would Christie think of such a thing? It may be her lack of belief in divine justice, but you thought of something else. Could it be an illustration of human nature? It would be complicated, even a fickle lot. The few good men would be predictable.

Mark Renton (Trainspotting). Not a few lauded Danny Boyle's adaptation of Irvine Welsh's cult novel, where Mark Renton betrayed his mates and stole the money intended for all of them. He wanted to start a new life, but he left something for Spud. It was a different ending in the book, where Welsh showed that not all junkies couldn't think straight. It was hard not to be judgmental at the likes of Renton and Spud, but you won't give Begbie another chance. This would be the heart of the matter. They were hooked to drugs. You already made up your mind after the first few pages.