Sympathetic Characters in Unsympathetic Worlds
By Dave King | May 17, 2016 |
A few years ago, I read Xenophon’s The Education of Cyrus. I’d heard that Thomas Jefferson admired Cyrus as a leader and wanted to find out why. Before long, I came across this bit of advice Cyrus’ father gave him about resupplying his troops during wartime.
Where might you better look to find the means of obtaining supplies than to the one who has an army? Now you are marching out from here with a force of infantry . . . and you will have for cavalry to support you the Median horse, the best cavalry troops in the world. What nation, then, of those around do you suppose will refuse to serve you, both from the wish to do your side a favour, and for fear of suffering harm?
In other words, “If you need supplies, just take them. And if people give you trouble, well, you’ve got an army, don’t you?” Essentially, he would supply the troops using the same methods organized crime uses to shake down local businesses. The rest of Cyrus’ life and reign is about as enlightened as his resupply methods. Apparently what made him such a shining example of a benevolent ruler for both Xenophon and Jefferson was that he actually tried to govern the lands he conquered rather than simply raping and pillaging.
Last month we talked about how to write plausible characters who lived in a world with rigid class distinctions. But a class system isn’t the only way past cultures go off the rails by modern standards. How do you write about characters who lived in places and times that accepted and even glorified conquest as a normal part of politics? Or that viewed marriage as a matter of political and economic dealmaking that had nothing to do with love? Or that were comfortable with slavery – with the right to beat, rape, or kill people who belonged to you? Or that considered bear baiting or a good hanging to be quality entertainment?
In last month’s comments section, a reader brought up the question of how to make characters in historical novels sympathetic when they were part of cultures that modern readers now find either ridiculous or abhorrent. The example she gave was of a young woman in the Ming dynasty whose abusive father had arranged for her to marry a man she didn’t love. In the culture at the time, not obeying her father would have been unthinkable – it would have violated everything she’d been raised to believe about her duty as a daughter and as a woman. But if she gave in to her father’s wishes rather than following her heart, she’d lose the sympathy of modern readers. How do you handle a situation like that?
The easiest way is to simply make your characters the exceptions to their times. You can get away with this in minor matters, as long as you make your characters aware they’re breaking with the social norms. For instance, in C. J. Sansom’s Matthew Shardlake mysteries, about a lawyer in the time of Henry VIII, Matthew is put off by bear baiting – watching a caged bear torn apart by dogs. But he feels that his distaste for the popular sport is a sign that he’s too sensitive.
But if you have your characters freely flaunt the more basic norms of their societies – things that can’t be passed off as a matter of taste — then you’re undermining the main reason for writing and reading historical fiction. Fans of this genre read stories set in the past (or in a past-like fantasy world) to immerse themselves in a culture different from their own. If the author of the Ming dynasty story had let her heroine abandon her arranged marriage, she would no longer be writing a story about the Ming dynasty. She would have essentially been writing a modern story with the characters dressed up in beautiful silks and jade.
So how do you make a character sympathetic without having them break with a culture that’s decidedly unsympathetic? The first step is to remember that people of the past weren’t stupid. They certainly believed things we find incredible, but they often did so for plausible reasons, based on what they knew at the time. So leave your modern presuppositions at the door and immerse yourself in the historical context. Your character’s actions will then seem more sympathetic. Cyrus’s attempts to rule the provinces he conquered really was a step up from rape and pillage, and most places the Romans took over wound up with better roads and clean water. Conquest was, at times, a good thing.
I can see a nineteenth-century British colonial officer, for instance, plausibly accept what was then known as the White Man’s Burden. By the end of the nineteenth century, anesthetics, germ theory, and improved hygiene were keeping people in Europe alive a lot longer. Mechanized farming and new food storage methods were eliminating famine. It’s not implausible that an intelligent, kind man might want to bring these blessings to places in the world where people still lived needlessly short, hard, hungry lives.
Remember that, within the limitations of past societies, people still found ways to be human. Marriages were matters of commerce in the middle ages, but romantic love flourished in extramarital affairs – Lancelot and Guinevere, Tristan and Isolde, just about anyone in Boccaccio’s Decameron. Uncle Tom of Uncle Tom’s Cabin has come to represent African Americans who tolerate and enable bigotry. But at the time Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote the book, Tom’s meek submission to his cruel masters would have been seen as a noble embodiment of his Christian ideals. It made him, in the eyes of Stowe’s readers, a better Christian than his oppressors, which was a radical concept at the time.
Even when your characters find ways to be human, they need to do so in ways that fit with their times. Priscilla Royal’s Covenant with Hell features a nun — Prioress Eleanor — and a monk — Brother Thomas – as the detectives. As you might expect for two members of religious orders in the mid-thirteenth century, Eleanor and Thomas are very concerned with the state of their souls. At one point, Eleanor walks the final mile of a pilgrimage barefoot, cutting up her feet, then worries that she may have committed the sin of pride for being excessively humble. When Thomas is treated with contempt by a priest, he feels he is being uncharitable in feeling insulted.
But within this very medieval worldview, they find a humanity that modern readers will still recognize. They feel nothing but compassion for a starving street urchin who was raped near the altar of a shrine, for instance – the priest who insulted Thomas considers her a child of the devil for desecrating a holy site and refusing to repent. And Thomas, who is homosexual, feels that his attraction to men is a sin, but not deeply enough to actually confess it. At some deeper level, he feels he’s doing nothing wrong.
This is the main reason to do the work needed to project yourself into the heads of characters who believe things most of us find ridiculous or abhorrent. If you can reach beyond their cultures – and ours – you will find a deeper level of humanity that’s common to all of us. Getting in touch with that more fundamental humanity forces you to grow as a writer and lets you deliver a memorable reading experience.
What do you think?
[coffee]
Dave King has been editing for nearly 40 years now. He is co-author of Self-Editing for Fiction Writers, a former contributing editor to Writer’s Digest, and has contributed more than 100 articles over the last 12 years to Writer Unboxed. He lives on 25 acres in rural Massachusetts with his business partner and wife, Ruth Julian, who also edits his work. His other day job, at least on Sundays, is as the organist at a Lutheran church in Greenfield, Mass.
“If you can reach beyond their cultures – and ours – you will find a deeper level of humanity that’s common to all of us.” This idea is what I love about historical fiction. On some level, to me, anyway, all fiction is historical in the sense that people have family histories, mini-cultures from which they emerge loaded down by bags full of myths and customs and ways of seeing the world. So although I do not write historical fiction per se, I’m taking many lessons from this morning’s post. Thank you , Dave.
I agree with Susan. We need to look deeply at the common human thread that our characters experience–whenever that happened to me–and today. You stated it very well, Dave!
Excellent post, Mr. King. Most of us reading this grew up in the U.S. or Canada (I believe there are a few Brits and Aussies sprinkled in as well). We naturally assume that our way of thinking about basic societal norms is predominant throughout the world, both past and present.
It’s a shock to find that we’re in the minority.
As writers, one of our greatest privileges is to introduce our readers to new cultures and ways of thought. Even if our readers find them repulsive, I believe that most will not be put off, especially if the characters show why they submit to their culture.
A good case is Downton Abbey. The relationship between the Lord of the house and the servants is explained early on in the series. Each understands their role and the importance of it, right down to the lowest kitchen maid (Daisy, who is an absolute riot). Even when the issue of Thomas’ homosexuality is brought to the forefront, the attitude of the time is made clear, but Thomas is allowed his defense. It’s all very well done and doesn’t insert our 21st way of thinking into 1920s British culture. I think it’s noteworthy to point out that Thomas is also the most fiendish of the characters, breaking the tempting stereotype of the friendly, easy-going gay man.
As I am looking toward writing more historical fiction, I find posts like this thought-provoking. Even a book set in the 1970s or 80s would present a culture much different that what we see today. And we must do our best to present it honestly.
Thanks for a great post.
I do think Downton Abbey handles these matters well, right down to their handling of Thomas — if someone is raised to believe they’re an abomination, they might tend to be bitter and spiteful.
One thing Downton didn’t get into much was the excitement that the possibility of war brought at the time. I’ve read some Kipling set in the decade before the war, and there was a sense that that generation was being deprived of the glory and honor of battle. They were really looking forward to proving themselves on the battlefields of Europe.
Of course, it didn’t work out well. It was the breaking of that national love for battle that led to the lost generation.
“But within this very medieval worldview, they find a humanity that modern readers will still recognize.”
Yes, I agree, relatability is necessary and essential humanity is how you create it. Relatability, though, can be a need not only in historical settings but also in futuristic, fantasy and modern stories.
I meet an awful lot of characters in crime, thrillers, SF, literary and even romance stories that I find difficult to relate to. When that happens mostly those characters are sour, snide, detached, or in some other way misanthropic.
There are tricks to making such characters relatable, such as making them humorous. (An example is Fredrik Backman’s A Man Called Ove, which is about a grump whose attempts to kill himself are constantly interrupted by people needing his help.)
Suffering characters can be imbued with care for others, or pining for love, or a need to have something, anything, to hang on to. A Catcher in the Rye. The Magus. All the Light We Cannot See.
The high human qualities that make individuals admirable and extraordinary are virtues recommended by philosophers and theologians throughout history and in all cultures. Great leaders are always great for similar reasons. The highest heroism has always been self-sacrifice.
Your advice is solid, Dave, I’d just say it applies not only to historical novelists but to all story spinners.
Dave, as always you push me to think and write with more care. When critique partners have read some of my historical novel, I realize how difficult it can be for them to understand why my characters can be so accepting of misfortune, but the culture of India is very much imbued with the concept of fate. It’s unthinkable that a person from a lower caste even dream of hobnobbing with the uppers, except as a servant.
Since I am writing in first-person, it seems awkward to point out such cultural things (my story people wouldn’t think about such things) but a shift in third makes the voice stilted. During revisions, I’ve been able to weave some information through secondary characters.
That is a tricky problem, Vijaya — how do you convey what the culture is like when your characters are so immersed in it that they take it for granted.
I haven’t read your manuscript, of course, but one possible way to do it is to have some characteristic event happen early in the story — something that shows the cultural attitudes at work. In the Priscilla Royal I mentioned above, Sister Eleanor’s barefoot walk happens near the beginning. It puts readers in a medieval frame of mind.
Brilliant! Thanks so much, the ancient history teacher in me is shouting in agreement.
Another slant on this- when the older culture does the right thing for the wrong reasons. The Romans stamped out the druidic practice of human sacrifice- and the British in India stopped the custom of throwing widows on the funeral pyre- out of a desire to be the only ruling power, and a touch of chauvinism in the latter case. So the reader of a novel set in those periods would be forced to wonder if any shot is good that goes through the hoop.
BTW, the word “ancient” above was a modifier of “history”, not “teacher”. But it’s getting closer to serving double-duty all the time!
Good thought about ancient cultures doing the right thing for the wrong reasons. It is a way of further complicating how modern readers relate to the past.
As several of you have already pointed out, the ability to find the deeper humanity in characters who are unsympathetic on the surface applies far beyond historical novels. I had thought about pursuing that thread in the article, but it was already long enough. But the thread is worth pursuing here.
It’s not only that there are subcultures in the world to day that are as offputting as anything in history, though there are. But a lot of the most memorable characters in history and popular culture are beloved despite serious flaws.
Don, you offered some excellent examples. The one that sprang to mind for me was Graham Greene’s Whiskey Priest. Alcoholic, cowardly, yet dedicated enough in the end to do the right thing even though it risks his life.
It’s possible to write wonderful, entertaining books without touching this deeper human level. But I think the most memorable books tap into it.
Yep, there are many examples. Contemporary novels set in other cultures come to mind. The Kite Runner. Also futures and fantasy worlds. Red Rising. Countless crime novels with embittered detectives to whom we can nevertheless relate. Yep, there are many examples.
I am sharing this article! As a reader and writer of historical romance, part of my job is to immerse the reader in a different place and time. The mindset of the characters and the society/culture they live in are a crucial part of world-building. Every human is shaped by the culture around him or her. Our characters should be as well.
I confess when I saw the title of today’s post, my first thought was “Oh! This is about me at my job!” (you’ll understand if you work in mental health where you have compassion but work in an environment where money, not patient, is first priority).
This is a very insightful post and a subject I haven’t seen addressed much. It’s a real quandary for the writer to immerse themselves in their story & still write true to the period even when certain aspects of the time are reprehensible. For example, now in modern times, we’ve done a reversal and sympathize and even identify with Native Americans of various tribes across the United States. But if you had been living at the time in history when you had occasion to be tied up and roasted alive upside down, you might have had a different viewpoint. Likewise, we find it appalling that Japanese Americans were interned in camps. Not so cut and dry if you’re living in the midst of war.
But even in our own time we do things that are quite reprehensible. As a reader, I’d much rather risk the distaste of some abhorrent practice than have an author make me puke being politically correct and trying to impose their sanctimonious version of a situation upon me.
Great post, Dave. Internal conflict might be another way to make characters sympathetic but true to their times. For instance, most of us believe workers deserve a living wage for their work, but we also flock to certain big-box stores for their cheap prices, even knowing that the goods might be made using child labor. Go back a few hundred years, and people probably felt and acted the same way regarding arranged marriages and colonization.
That is an excellent example of a modern-day blind spot, thank you.
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A really good post. I think it’s important to think about what’s “normal” for the society around our characters. As writers, we have to think about what those characters would be thinking in those contexts.
In terms of the behaviours you describe as abhorrent, a piece of advice I always return to is this: no one ever sees a monster in the mirror. Everyone believes that they’re justified in what they do. Normally, I think about this in context of the bad guys of a story, giving them motivations that are plausible and interesting, but it applies equally well to this context. The people who enjoyed bear baiting didn’t think it was horrific, the people who owned slaves thought they were justified, and so on. As writers, we need to think about why our characters find these things justifiable – and it can be as simple as, “This is normal in society and I haven’t given it much thought before.”
Good point, Jessica. And this is also the path to sympathetic villains. But if you simply have your characters accept their culture (as, you’re right, most of us do), you still run the risk of alienating your readers. You need to show why they accept their culture, even if they’re not aware of the reasons themselves.
In the bear baiting example, for instance, you don’t necessarily have to have your character think about his or her culture’s love of violence. But if you can have him or her attend a bear baiting and show the excitement, the admiration of the bear’s courage, the appreciation of the dog’s teamwork, the reasons that a good person might actually enjoy the sport, then you will be bringing your culture to life.
A very topical blog for me, thanks. I’m trying to show the soft and human side of a couple of senior Japanese officers in Manila in 1944 and its not an easy task, especially when viewed through the eyes of an Allies doctor. Having read the blog and the comments here its back to the drawing board…again
That is tricky. From what I’ve read of Imperial Japan, they viewed the Emperor as the embodiment of the national character — loving Japan was loving the Emperor. What’s happening in North Korea at the moment is the last holdout of this cultural phenomenon. It’s a hard mindset to bring to life for Western readers.