Flawed at Heart

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Back in December, after I wrote a post on strawmen in literature and followed it up with a list of just a few significantly flawed literary heroes, someone asked if I could do the same for heroines.  Since then it has been on my list of Things to Write About, but I find it is not so easy as I thought it would be. Perhaps it is because I prefer writing and reading from the hero's perspective, and find when I look on my shelves that most books have male protagonists.  It may also be because most of those books are classics, and classics tend to have sweet, charming, innocent heroines.  However, it really wouldn't do to put off this post any longer, so I will make do with what I can dig up.

Thus, Joy, here is the best response I can muster.

anne of green gables

We can hardly start talking about flawed heroines without running headlong into this red-haired girl, who broke a slate over a boy's head for calling her 'carrots.'  Anne Shirley is nothing if not flawed.  Her imagination is her most memorable feature, and while it brings charm and life to those around her, it is most certainly a double-sided blade.  She has a temper to match the color of her hair; which of us does not remember her flying in Mrs. Lynde's face and calling her a sour old gossip?  She could talk both hind legs off the proverbial mule (who is always getting, in my opinion, the short end of the stick).  Less prominent, but perhaps more basic, are her struggles with pride and her propensity to hold grudges for ridiculously long periods of time.

pride & prejudice

We brought up Mr. Darcy's flaws last time, so it would hardly be fair to leave Elizabeth Bennet from the picture this time.  She primarily represents the second half of Jane Austen's memorable title, for she judges upon appearance and is adamant concerning her own hasty opinions.  (This is a trait shared by another well-loved heroine, Margaret Hale of North & South - understandably, perhaps, since Mr. Darcy and Mr. Thornton also share significant flaws.)  Elizabeth has a sharp tongue, as well, a fault many of us - myself included! - can easily relate to.  These flaws, like Anne's, are some of the most fundamental aspects of her overall literary character.

the scarlet pimpernel

Another heroine this list could not do without.  Lady Blakeney, wife of the foppish Sir Percy, appears at first blush to be even more flawed than either Elisabeth Bennet or Anne Shirley.  Though a commoner during the Reign of Terror, she is quite as proud as any aristocrat.  Her revenging herself upon a man who wronged her and her brother leads to the death of the man's entire family by the guillotine.  And, of course, when we meet her she is estranged from her husband, scornful (albeit deservedly) of his ways, and something of a flirt.  When pressed between a moral Scylla and Charybdis, Marguerite is also willing to sacrifice her conscience to save her brother's life.  The tension of The Scarlet Pimpernel pretty much revolves around Marguerite's moral flaws.

the queen's thief

Again, Eugenides, the Thief of Megan Whalen Turner's The Queen's Thief series, meets his match in the character of the Queen of Attolia.  The Queen has attained her position as most monarchs of her kingdom have in years past: through brutality.  She is willing to kill - and more particularly, to murder - to attain the safety and prestige of Attolia.  Rigidly just, but almost never merciful, she will extract her pound of flesh from anyone who crosses her.  Indeed, the Queen has few good traits at all.  Turner only manages to procure the reader's sympathy by revealing the moral struggle that still goes on inside the Queen, and by showing how other, better-loved characters feel about her.

daddy-long-legs

Judy Abbott, the heroine of Jean Webster's Daddy-Long-Legs, is not such an obviously flawed character as the above-mentioned protagonists; but like any good character, the defects are there.  In escaping the rigidity of the orphanage in which she was raised, Judy naturally exercises her newfound freedom and pursues her own way in all things.  She is frequently obstinate, sometimes rude, and quite willing to flout the little authority that "Daddy-Long-Legs" attempts to employ.  Quite feminist and strong-willed, she can actually be rather irritating.

the gammage cup

This character, Muggles, is even less clearly flawed.  In general, she is quite the stand-up gal, quiet, patient, the sort of character who minds her own business and lets others mind theirs.  However, this personality lends itself to other kinds of flaws.  Muggles can be too meek, too submissive, and more willing to be walked on than to risk defending herself - aspects of her personality that only serve to make her more uniquely amazing as a heroine.  There are no fireworks about Muggles, as there are with Elizabeth Bennet or Marguerite Blakeny.  She is a simple, normal person with simple, normal flaws.  She aptly illustrates the truth that a character need not have prominent flaws in order for the reader to see his or her growth; the struggles may be much smaller than a hot temper or murderous grudges.  The flaw need only be real, and the author need only bring it to light.

Shadows and Echoes

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After reading books, blogs, and websites on writing for any length of time, there are certain phrases and bits and pieces of literary jargon that begin to be familiar.  It's not always clear what they mean, and sometimes they're downright unfortunate - internal conflict, for instance, always makes me wonder if the character had mayonnaise and pickles for lunch.  Some of them, however, are quite apt.  One rare example of this is foreshadowing.

Those of you who have followed Scribbles since pretty near the beginning are already aware that foreshadowing is one of my favorite aspects of writing.  It gives me a thrill to read a book, especially one familiar to me, and catch a new instance where threads of future scenes are woven into earlier sections; I love it when the first book of a series plants seeds for those that follow.  I am not sure why, save perhaps that, though (and perhaps because) I am a writer myself, it never ceases to amaze me that an author's mind can contain such a monumental and complete thought.  It is one thing to start at the beginning and bumble clumsily to the end; it is another thing entirely for the ending to be foretold by the beginning.

There are many different styles of foreshadowing.  One of the most obvious is that of premonition or deja vu, two phenomena we don't really understand, but that serve us well as writers.  They allow us to give the character a hint of whatever disaster is to come - not a vision, for that tends to ruin the suspense, but an unpleasant and indefinable taste.  And through the mind of the character, the reader feels it as well.

Foreshadowing can also be done in less obvious ways, ways that will probably not be noticed until the second reading when the ending is already in mind.  They can be as slight as a word that a minor character uses, a change in the weather, an insult, the writing of a letter or the killing of a moth.  It can be anything, really.  There is nothing so slight that the mind cannot latch onto it, connect it with an event and rethink it months or even years later.  The association needn't even be direct; it may be a connection may be only in the character's mind.  Personally, these are my favorites because of the detail and nuance they reflect - and because they're even more natural than a premonition.

As splendid as foreshadowing is, however, it is but one side of the coin of continuity.  Foreshadowing is what the writer does at the beginning of the novel; it is the darkness cast by the real event to which the author was looking.  But later on, especially in a long novel, it is necessary to harken back to earlier scenes and bring them clearly before the reader's mind again.  I call this echoing; like as not it has different names in different places. 

At any rate, for me these are usually pointed (often unintentional) repetitions of something that happened many chapters before.  Again, they're usually small things - the flipside of foreshadowing.  A phrase might be reused that harkens back to another scene; a character's expression might remind the narrator of someone else; a color might be tied to something critical.  Whether indirect or direct, it is an association that carries the mind back across the pages even more plainly than foreshadowing carries the mind forward.

However they are used, foreshadowing and echoing are wonderfully tantalizing ways of bringing together the pattern of a story.  And on a rambling side note, they represent to me one of the spectacular aspects of the Bible: no other book in the world so reflects the perfect continuity in the mind of its author.  Perhaps, after all, that is what we all pattern our own writing after.