Burning the Straw Men

pinterest: the soldier's cross

Back in October, inspired negatively by a book I was perusing at the time, I scribbled a post about some of the most flagrant stereotypes applied to women in novels.  I don't believe it would be playing fair if after that, I didn't do something of the same for male characters.  I haven't seen this as commonly in modern books (probably because I don't read many of them), though it does crop up quite a bit in the more "sensational," romanticized literature of the 1800s.  However, I know many of Scribbles' readers, as well as myself, garner more inspiration from that era than from our own, so I think it still worthwhile to address the issue.

A plague that afflicts many male characters is one I've seen in several older books, and unfortunately, it seems to crop up most in books by Christian authors.  It might come from the writers being women; it might have grown out of the Progressive movements in the late 19th Century - I'm not sure.  Certainly one book I found guilty of it was written a long while before that.  So, without further ado,

the straw man

These are characters who, though men, act like women and are portrayed as something like feminine angels (and not the powerful angels of reality, either).  They are extremely good.  They are also extreme milktoasts.  They are as emotional as women, though I've found that the authors try to get away with this by calling them "manly tears" - protesting too much, mayhap?  You can't picture them going into battle, or fighting with everything they've got for something they love, or overturning money-changing tables in a temple.

The moral compasses of these straw men never waver.  They have no real struggles with anything so terrible as hatred; certainly not anything like drink (gasp!) or a foul mouth (oh noez!).  What "struggles" they do have are sanitized and even glorified to make the characters look even better: they might love another person too much, or be too sacrificial, or too trusting, or what have you.  But sin?  Oh, goodness, no, mustn't have that!

Caveats are in order.  Most of you know that I'm all for characters who, like the prince in fairytales, represent virtue in its purest form.  I'm all for them because those characters are true: they represent valor and honor and truth, all powerful and masculine virtues.  They've got backbone.  They are good, but that does not necessitate their being wimps.  In fact, it rules out their being wimps: there is no virtue in milktoasts.

This doesn't mean there can be no cowardly lions in our stories, only that it ought not be portrayed as a mark of piety and goodness.  My character Justin King from Wordcrafter is one of my own favorites, and yet he is also naturally the weakest.  His insecurities make him unwilling to stand for much of anything; he lacks conviction, and Agent Coulson has informed us what happens to men of that stamp.  You can't pretend that Justin's retiring personality and half-developed backbone is a good thing, while Ethan Prince's blood-and-fire impulsiveness is evil - and yet, by the Law of Straw Men, I suppose that's what you would say. 

The Straw Man reveals itself in different forms, some much more innocuous than this, and is quite apt to creep into our stories when we're not looking.  I prefer writing male main characters, and yet I make these kinds of mistakes in the rough draft and have to get them ironed out by my father-and-beta-reader; in particular, it seems my characters have a tendency to be pacifists.  Not to say they won't fight, but when it comes down to killing someone, my heart fails me.  I put myself in their proverbial boots and find war and killing so ugly that I usually take the easy way out, and have to correct myself later on to be more in keeping with the character.  I kick myself for it whenever it happens, but ho hum!  One of these days I'll get it the first time around.

do you find any straw men in your rough drafts?

A Comparison

I am a Jane Austen fan.

I always feel very typical and oh-so girlish when I make that confession; it's like saying that pink is my favorite color or that getting a new pair of shoes is a form of therapy (neither of which is true for me). Every girl seems to like Jane Austen. But I figure that the poor lady couldn't help that, and so, popular or not, I am a Jane Austen fan. Her novels are my comfort books. I read them when I'm feeling blue, and just seeing them on my shelf is cheery. Jane Austen and tea are synonymous for "comfort."

Elizabeth Gaskell, on the other hand, is a different matter. A contemporary of Dickens, writing in the mid-1800s when Britain was in the throes of the Industrial Revolution, Gaskell dealt with much harsher subjects than Austen. She also seemed to have a thing with killing characters; I think it made her happy. So many people died in her novel North and South that I came out on the other side very blue indeed, and even the lighter Wives and Daughters had its share of gloom. Light and comfortable her novels are not, and neither are the movies based on her works, particularly the grand miniseries North & South.

Whence, then, the comparison between the two authoresses? Actually, I don't mean to compare them at all. It would be like comparing tea and black coffee; the differences are so vast, where would you even begin? No, I mean to compare two of their characters who are in some ways remarkably similar. If you know about Gaskell and Austen, you have probably guessed which ones I mean. And you would be right: I am going to be cliche for the second time in one post and compare

fitzwilliam darcy and john thornton

The former is more famous than the latter, as Austen is more famous than Gaskell. Fair enough, I suppose, since Austen proceeded Gaskell by about forty years. Yet their two heroes have similarities that stand out even at a glance: dark and brooding types with the same sort of unwilling attraction to the heroine. Each is his own character, however, and they deserve a good look to see where their comparisons end.

mr. darcy

It is impossible to stay that Mr. Darcy is cliche, because he really began the cliche of darkly handsome heroes who have passionate hearts under their arrogance. In addition to that, he has more depth than such a simple generalization could give him: as he says himself, he was given good principles and then left to follow them in pride and conceit; he is selfish and arrogant at his core, and over the course of the story these things change. Yet even early on, he has his good points. He is an affectionate brother to Georgianna and a good, albeit meddling, friend to Bingley, and I consider it proof of his self-control that he was able to show respect to his extremely annoying aunt. He also has his weaknesses, being in his own eyes "unqualified to recommend himself to strangers." (Apparently Georgianna didn't get all the shyness in the family.)

mr. thornton

John Thornton is a more complex character than Fitzwilliam Darcy. Thornton was practically born into hard circumstances: schooled by a stern mother after his father's suicide, put in the position of "man of the house" at an early age. To me, one of the most significant things about his character was the fact that he worked, not merely to provide for himself and his family, but to pay off his father's debts and start afresh. That right there is a mark of courage.

At a relatively early age, Thornton manages to start his own cotton mill - and with his father's history looming over him, he will fight to keep it running. He is certainly biased against the workers and whatever kindness he shows them is rather self-serving; it takes Margaret to change that, as it took Elizabeth to change Darcy. (That seems to be a necessary component of romance novels.)

Of these two, Mr. Darcy is perhaps the grander. His witty comebacks are a riot, and the way Elizabeth slights him and Wickham drags his name through the mud for half the novel is painful for me to read. Yes, Darcy is certainly a favorite. What would the world be without him and Elizabeth Bennet and Pride and Prejudice?

Yet, all in all, I believe that Mr. Thornton is the better man. Despite his faults, he speaks more to an ideal: he works hard, honors his mother, provides for his family, and in time also learns charity in his dealings with the mill workers. I do not mean to read into the novel more than Gaskell, a Unitarian, meant to be there; but I come away from the story seeing at least these biblical values in Thornton, and they are what make me consider him the better character. In a sense, he is more real than Mr. Darcy.

Both characters fit their stories. Pride and Prejudice is light, whimsical, jaunty, while North and South is more gritty and realistic, and the same goes for their heroes (although I wouldn't exactly call Darcy "jaunty"). Mr. Darcy would no more fit in Milton than Mr. Thornton would fit in Pemberley.

...but that would make for an interesting story.

The Truth of a Fairytale

Several days ago Liz on Awake posted her thoughts on the "knight in shining armor" versus the underdog antihero, and it got me thinking (a dangerous pastime, I know) about the concept of the true-hearted knight in fairytales. The knight on the white charger was a recurring character in the stories of the Western world for centuries - the Knights of the Round Table, the Lone Ranger, and the heroes of the old Disney princess movies, to name a few. Nowadays they are not so popular in literature; writers focus more on the psychological and spiritual aspect of their heroes in order to make them true to life. The structure of a story has developed so that the main character must now have a clear character arc and must change throughout the course of the novel, until the climax shows him to be a hero at last. And, to steal one of Liz's examples, it is certainly true that a character like Rick from Casablanca demands more empathy than a Prince Charming or one of King Arthur's knights. The reader or movie-viewer feels a sense of growth as a Rick Blaine walks off into the fog at the end of Casablanca that cannot be felt while Prince Philip cuts through the thorns to the enchanted castle and kisses Aurora in Sleeping Beauty.

And yet I think perhaps we have lost sight of the truth behind a simple fairytale like Sleeping Beauty. It has become so cliche that we look at it as nothing more than a story for children who have not yet learned How the World Really Is, who still view things in stark black and white. They aren't stories that fit with our perception of the world, and so they aren't considered "real" or "accurate" or "true." At the risk of sounding too allegorical, however, the parallels that can be drawn between these childhood tales and the Greatest Story argue that perhaps these fairytales are more True than even the most intricate Dickens novel - or, rather, True on a higher level.

"Fairy Tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten." (G.K. Chesterton)

The basic plot of the classic fairytale mirrors - in a small and necessarily incomplete way - God's redemptive history. Take, for instance, the tale of Saint George and the Dragon, in which you find all the components: the dragon, the damsel, the knight. The venomous dragon lived in a lake outside a city and was given presents of great worth by the townspeople in order to placate him and keep him from destroying them all; then the people began also to give the dragon their own children for it to devour. In time the king's daughter was chosen to be sacrificed, and she was taken out to the lake and left there for the dragon. At this time, of course, Saint George was riding past the lake and, on seeing the maiden, stopped to see what the matter was. He fought the dragon and eventually killed it, rescuing the maid from being eaten.

This is hardly the first legend involving the slaying of a dragon. The Greeks had the story of Perseus rescuing Andromeda, which has obvious parallels to the legend of Saint George, and there were many similar myths in the Middle Eastern empires. This common thread suggests that it is a story based on fact, though I cannot say whether it flows from the history of a man killing some legendary beast or from a spiritual truth.

Regardless, it does bear a striking resemblance to the history of God's people that can hardly be missed. The dragon, Satan, has held Mankind in captivity since the Fall, while Man blindly and willingly serves him out of the depravity of his own heart. Such has been the state of Man and such it would continue to be but for Christ. It is He who comes to rescue His chosen Bride, and He alone who could do so. It is all there - the dragon, the maiden, the knight. A fairytale paints in muted colors the glory of redemption and of the work of Christ. It is otherworldly, and that is why it is so different from what we experience day to day. It looks to what lies beyond; it looks to the Truth behind it all.

"You're watching how the story finds a way.
And you've seen it all before, but still you love to see the hero save the day.
It's a window in the world, a little glimpse of all the goodness getting through.
And all along the way the days are made of little moments of truth."
(Andrew Peterson - Windows in the World)

Sing, O Goddess...

Nearly every book has a protagonist, but they don't all have heroes - not real heroes. There are two definitions of the word:

hero - hɪəroʊ –noun, plural -roes; also -ros.

1. a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities.

2. the principal male character in a story, play, film, etc.

But being the second doesn't make a character the first. In ancient literature the leading player was almost always a hero - a great and courageous fighter, like Achilles for the Greeks or Cu Chulainn for the Irish. "Noble qualities" did not necessarily entail high morals; rather they were those virtues that were considered manly, like cunning and daring. If a man made a name for himself through his warring exploits, through the taking of more booty and spilling of more blood than his companions, he was a hero.

The influence of Christianity has changed the concept of "hero" in real life and literature. Take superheroes, for instance. Sure, they have great powers and strength, but they are not given the title "hero" unless they use those powers for "the greater good." Those who use their powers for their own ends are villains, whereas in the ancient epics, most of those men who were called heroes were focused wholly on self-aggrandizement. I'm currently reading The Odyssey, and Odysseus is a prime example of this. I had always thought that the story was about him facing the odds and enduring hardship to return home to his wife and son. Not the case. He kind of dawdles around the Mediterranean, collecting loot; spending a year with Calypso, then a few weeks with Circe; collecting more loot; and then finally deciding that he might as well head home to his own land now. But his wiliness and courage make him a hero by the Greek definition.

The difference between how we view a hero now and how he was viewed then can actually be seen in Disney's "Hercules," where Hercules progresses from "zero to hero" by the popular definition, but never becomes a true hero until he sacrifices his life for Meg. Being a hero means more than defeating your enemies; to be a hero is harder than that. It is easy to kill, but harder to show mercy. It is a simple thing to destroy, but a harder thing to exercise justice. Even gaining riches is easy compared with the hardship of giving up everything for another.

Some of the best tales are ones that combine these two elements of a hero. Adding the thrill of a victorious warrior to the depth of a godly man makes a truly great character, like David. Not every protagonist will be a fighter, but every hero ought to that inward strength that sets him apart as a great man, a man who reflects Christ. For who so completely embodies the heart of a hero as our Lord?