Proving Your Protagonist Has What It Takes
By Kathryn Craft | March 8, 2018 |
photo adapted / Horia Varlan
Many writers of contemporary fiction start their stories with their protagonist in a fairly low place, barely tolerating his existence. It’s a modern-day, first-world setup: without trees to chop and a cabin to build and fields to plant, our hero-to-be is disillusioned in some way, unable to kick into gear and effect change. Then something unexpected happens, knocking our hero all the way to rock bottom, from where he must either choose to change or die. It is a fight for psychological survival.
This is a hero’s journey that many writers have experienced. We may have plenty to say about it that could be meaningful to others who are struggling. It may even be the reason we write.
But when translating this story to the page, there is something writers often leave out: proof of your protagonist’s agency. We may care about the problem, but why should we believe this sullen soul is capable of showing us the way beyond his ennui?
You need to give us some hint, early on, that the protagonist has the potential to greet change head-on and conquer whatever obstacles might stand in his way.
To demonstrate how an author might embed such proof of agency, let’s look at the opening of Nicole Krauss’s The History of Love. Our narrator is octogenarian Leo Gursky.
Paragraph 1
When they write my obituary. Tomorrow. Or the next day. It will say, LEO GURSKY IS SURVIVED BY AN APARTMENT FULL OF SHIT.
Okey dokey. I think this “hero” will serve our discussion.
Continuing on with the rest of the long first paragraph:
I’m surprised I haven’t been buried alive. The place isn’t big. I have to struggle to keep a path clear between bed and toilet, toilet and kitchen table, kitchen table and front door. If I want to get from the toilet to the front door, impossible, I have to go by way of the kitchen table. I like to imagine the bed as home plate, the toilet as first, the kitchen table as second, the front door as third: should the doorbell ring while I am lying in bed, I have to round the toilet and the kitchen table in order to arrive at the door. If it happens to be Bruno, I let him in without a word and then jog back to bed, the roar of the invisible crowd ringing in my ears.
Paragraph 2:
I often wonder who will be the last person to see me alive. If I had to bet, I’d bet on the delivery boy from the Chinese take-out. I order in four nights out of seven. Whenever he comes I make a big production out of finding my wallet. He stands in the door holding the greasy bag while I wonder if this is the night I’ll finish off my spring roll, climb into bed, and have a heart attack in my sleep.
Paragraph 3:
I try to make a point of being seen. Sometimes when I’m out, I’ll buy a juice even if I’m not thirsty. If the store is crowded I’ll even go so far as dropping my change all over the floor, the nickels and dimes skidding in every direction. I’ll get down on my knees. It’s a big effort for me to get down on my knees, and an even bigger effort to get up. And yet. Maybe I look like a fool. I’ll go into the Athlete’s Foot and say…
…[Leo continues on to say how he tries on many shoes he doesn’t buy, concluding the long paragraph with the next sentence]…
All I want is not to die on a day when I went unseen.
Paragraph 4:
A few months ago, I saw an ad in the paper. It said, NEEDED: NUDE MODEL FOR DRAWING CLASS. $15/HOUR. It seemed too good to be true. To have so much looked at. By so many. I called the number. A woman told me to come the following Tuesday. I tried to describe myself, but she wasn’t interested. Anything will do, she said.
Are you ready to invest in Leo Gursky yet? Apparently, many readers were: The History of Love was a New York Times bestseller and translated into more than twenty-five languages. Part of that may have to do with the dual narration promised on the back-cover copy; counter-balancing the old man’s tale is the spunky voice of fourteen-year-old Alma Singer, who is trying to find a cure for her mother’s loneliness. Certainly this helped those who might be on the fence. But I hadn’t read the back-cover copy when I bought the novel. I read this first page in the store and bought it. Let’s look at why.
This is where I usually analyze the passage. Today, I’d rather turn it over to you. Let’s see if we have a meeting of the minds in the comments.
In the paragraphs shared here, what other ways does Krauss promise us that Leo Gursky is worthy of reader investment? I came up with one dozen! Please stick to only one in your comment, though, so we can all have some fun. Use the paragraph number for reference. How did the technique you cite promise that Leo’s tale might be more than a miserable slog? Have you noticed proof of agency techniques in other books, or used one yourself?
I’ll start us off: that beautiful gut-punch of a sentence ending paragraph 3—“All I want is not to die on a day when I went unseen”—would be enough proof of agency to keep me reading. I love stories that offer up keen observations about the human condition, and Leo Gursky, although elderly, lonely, and depressed, delivered this on page one.
If the comments don’t uncover all of the 12 clues I found, I’ll post the rest of mine in a comment tonight.
[coffee]
Kathryn Craft (she/her) is the author of two novels from Sourcebooks, The Art of Falling and The Far End of Happy. Her forthcoming book, Crafting Story Movement: Techniques to Engage Readers and Drive Your Novel Forward, draws from decades of experience as both a story consultant and a movement specialist/dance critic. Learn more on Kathryn’s website.
I fell in love with Leo in the first paragraph and believed he could overcome his circumstances with this line, “If it happens to be Bruno, I let him in without a word and then jog back to bed, the roar of the invisible crowd ringing in my ears.” His blunt awareness of his existence coupled with that fantastic sense of humor makes me believe he can do anything!
Yes Teri! Not surprised that you latched into humor, as you use it so well in your own writing. Our ability to laugh at ourselves, shown here because we are in Leo’s first-person voice, speaks a lot about our ability to navigate rough waters.
Hey, Kathryn!
Wonderful essay. The line that grabbed me was in Paragraph 2: “I often wonder who will be the last person to see me alive.” It gave me the sense that his life had become nothing more than random encounters. I recognized that life and that’s what drew me in.
For a time, I lived alone and rarely received company. That thought crossed my mind on several occasions, and I even wondered how much of me my dogs might have eaten before I was found.
I haven’t lived alone for several years now, and don’t worry about being dog food anymore.
Now I worry about dying in the backyard and being carried away by fire ants like in Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.
Mike, when I had a cat I wondered the same thing!
Ha! The things that go through single pet owners’ heads.
I’m safe around cats. They don’t even pay attention to me alive.
Interesting about the intended meaning of this, that life had become random encounters. Hadn’t thought of it that way before, Mike!
I joined Team Leo the moment his angular trip through his maze of stuff became a baseball home run. Go Leo! As soon as this abundant snow gets plowed, I’m off to the library to check out The History of Love (and see Nicole Krauss’s other books). Thanks, Kathryn, for introducing me to this author and delineating the object lesson.
Hi Anna, yes, that crowd noise!! He is able to imagine unseen supporters. A powerful imagination means he can surmount obstacles—and in this case, even his aloneness.
I now have to read The History of Love. Thanks so much, Kathryn. You’re a master of spotlighting these writing techniques and using wonderful examples from literature.
Thanks Kate! Will try to remember to pop it into my backpack next time I’ll see you at Wegman’s.
I’ll second that.
Much thanks, this exercise was super instructional.
First of all, I have “The History of Love” on my shelf and have yet to read it, but this may finally push it to the top of my list. Second, I have to confess that I don’t see what makes it seem like Leo has “the right stuff.” In fact, to me, he sounds resigned to his life and his routine and rather resigned to the idea that he may die alone and unseen. I can’t quite see where his actions translate into agency, rather than resignation. Anyway, that’s just me. What pulled me in was the voice and the fact that Leo seems like a complicated character. Great thought-provoker, Kathryn.
Stay tuned for comments throughout the day, Densie! The techniques are subtle but definitely present. And if you’re ready to bump the novel up in your TBR, the techniques are working on you.
I don’t know if it adds anything helpful. I’m not so sure I’m looking at it from the ‘technique’ standpoint, but the quotes provided from this book crackle with energy to me–something I rarely see or feel in a book. In fact, I can’t break down WHY I felt that way when reading it. It just is.
Leo’s style of speaking/writing is concise. Partial sentences, no conjunctions. Not one unnecessary word, not one inclusion that doesn’t support his point. We don’t have oodles of description to wade through, evoking the nature of the stuff in his house, it’s just “shit.” Personally, I adore this kind of concision. I think it adds to the energy you speak of, BK.
This is GREAT.
Paragraph 1, Leo shows he is completely self-aware and has a sense of humor about it: “LEO GURSKY IS SURVIVED BY AN APARTMENT FULL OF SHIT.”
I like a protag who is aware he has a problem and isn’t too morose about it. He’s living with it. He’ll die with it. On the surface, it’s that he’s a hoarder (I assume). Beneath the surface, it’s that there are no people close enough to him to morn his passing. (Maybe they can’t get through the piles of junk.)
Reading these paragraphs made me want to get this book. :)
Hi Erin, yes! First-person point of view is key here, because it adds another layer beneath the third-person headline. The first step to solving a problem is naming it, and Leo let’s it all hang out from the start.
The last paragraph convinced me to buy the book! Posing nude is way outside of most people’s comfort zone. That this reclusive old man would greet the possibility of doing it with delight shows the strength of his desire to be seen, that there will be few (if any) limits to what he’ll do to attain that desire, and promises that he will not wallow in pathos, but take action–and somewhat outrageous action at that. Loved out the author worked up to this point, too. Can’t wait to read the rest of it.
Yes Sarah, I love the outrageous plot point too because it’s right on premise. And his joy, that so much of him will be seen, speaks to agency. Good one!
I’ve not commented on anything like this in quite some time, but this is a thought-provoking article, thanks.
I think any of the lines mentioned above work, but Paragraph 3 as a whole jumps out at me as the thoughts of someone who is fighting back against the inevitable end of his lonely life with a fierce determination to just ‘be seen.’
He even goes so far in the next paragraph as to work toward being seen nude, haha. That shows that there is some kind of fight left in him, I believe.
Agreed, Todd! You mention the whole third paragraph, which offers so much supporting detail. One of my faves is in there but I’ll wait to see if anyone else plucks it out first!
I get a sense of restlessness from Leo’s dialogue. A lesser author might have written Leo like a slow, boring, elderly man, but his speech tells me that he hasn’t lost his spark; not yet. I like his snark and self-depreciating humor. It’s that odd energy that proves his agency to me. I don’t know that I’d be interested in reading a book about an octogenarian otherwise.
Meghan—that’s fascinating! This one was not on my list, but you’re right—he’s amping up for change, and the opening is written to convey that restlessness. Well done!
Hi Kathryn:
I think three keys to making an otherwise repellent protagonist worthy of empathy are: insight, humor, lust for life. Leo clearly has the first two, and something about Bruno and Chinese Takeout and his elaborate schemes to be seen suggest at least a glimmer of the third.
Finally, I’m a firm believer that if you fear a character is too “unlikable” (a term I loathe), give him “a kid or a dog,” i.e., someone or something to care about. We care about those who care about others. The brief reference to Bruno suggests just such a concern.
So: insight, wit, Bruno — these make him compelling.
His continuing need to be seen suggests him his willfulness (especially given the extent to which he pursues it).
BTW: One of my favorite quotes ever is from John Hawkes: “To be loved is to be seen.”
Great post. Thanks!
Hi David, “We care about those who care about others”—a lot of wisdom in this. And your perceptions about Bruno being key are cemented by page 6, where we find out that Bruno was with Leo and got him help when Leo had a heart attack, and that when Bruno’s wide died shortly thereafter, Leo had saved Bruno after an attempted suicide with pills.
They want to live. Still—fun to look for the hints of this on page one, isn’t it?
Reading, thinking–to be loved is to be seen. I’m going to hang my comment on that. The character shows agency–but in some ways it’s excessive. Loneliness leads to that excess. I have a character in my novel who believes she is UNSEEN. If so, maybe she can grab an infant from the nursery where she cleans up after others. Maybe…
Hi Beth, thanks for reading! Not quite sure what you mean by “excessive”—did you think the author tried too hard to show agency? Would love to hear what you meant by this.
Leo’s desire to be seen brought things from the deeply personal to universal in matter of a few words. I was hooked before that, but this clinched it for me. Wanting to be seen, reflected by another, validated as having an existence, is such a human thing to feel, and for all his reclusiveness, immediately connected Leo to the world (and me). Great stuff today. Thank, Kathryn!
Hi Susan, that’s very perceptive, and a different way of looking at the same proof of agency I had noted art the end of my post—the pithy philosophical statement.But you’re right—if Leo can tie the deeply personal to the universal on page one, we’ll stay with him to watch him do so throughout.
What a great post and example, Kathryn! There’s a little sentence in paragraph 3 that I love–so small, but it really reinforces that sense of agency:
“I’ll get down on my knees. It’s a big effort for me to get down on my knees, and an even bigger effort to get up. And yet. Maybe I look like a fool.”
I love that “and yet”…the rhythm and the pause there just hook me in.
This is so helpful, as I work with a MC who is in very much this predicament: her world’s a mess, she’s a mess…and yet. She’s not a victim, even if she thinks so for a while. I certainly don’t want her to come off passive or whiny, and this post helps me think how I can guard against that. Thanks again!
Oh I’m so glad this is something you can see an immediate use for, Alisha! And I was waiting for someone to mention this quote!
It hurst him to get down on his knees [image of prayer and asking for what he wants—to be seen] and an even bigger effort to get up—but he makes it. This one spoke to me as well.
He’ll buy a juice even if he’s not thirsty! Nothing like action even if you don’t feel like it. Leo is a DOER. I can’t wait to see what he will do when he actually FEELS like it!
Hahaha good one Maria! That Leo. I found that out-of-the-box way to solve his dilemma funny and poignant—and proof of agency.
The first line of paragraph 3 gave my heartstrings a good yank:
“Sometimes when I’m out, I’ll buy a juice even if I’m not thirsty.”
The idea of buying something you don’t really want just to make a connection with another human–to be seen–is, on the one hand, so sad, but on the other, so gutsy, especially when he deliberately drops his change. Aware of his age and the increasing isolation ageing brings, he knows the opportunities for connecting, for being seen, in this world are dwindling with each passing day. So, from these passages, he not only seems determined to make the most of every opportunity (dragging them out by dropping his change, making “a big production” out of finding his wallet), but to create such opportunities (buying something he doesn’t need, applying to be a nude model).
But, it’s his own awareness that he is deliberately doing these things in order to make what are likely his final connections to this world that I find compelling. I think this determination is the heroic quality Don Maass wrote about in yesterday’s post. I’m already rooting for this guy to make that connection, to be seen. (And, I’m very curious about what all the junk is in his apartment; what he’s kept, and why he’s kept it.)
And, I’m feeling a little stupid at the moment: I don’t know how many times I’ve picked up this book, given it a glance, and passed on it. Today, I’m going to leave for work a few minutes early so I can swing by the bookstore.
Thanks for a great post, Kathryn!
Ah yes…reading your comment reminds me of a thought that ran through my head when I first read paragraph 3. I’ve *seen” this person before, stood in line behind them, never thought about that fumbling with the wallet in quite that way.
A whole extra level of “seeing” Leo.
Alisha, yes, I’m sure we all have. How kind of Krauss to give us the perspective from inside a Leo’s head.
CK, the order that we receive the information here is interesting, isn’t it? Paragraph 2 gives a perfectly good place to start. It draws you right in, presents Leo’s deep desire to be seen, then shows him pursing his goal. It would all be quite straightforward.
But as written, we see him first as doing these things from a place of disadvantage—loneliness or depression or what, we don’t know, but his life is full of shit.
When we then see him stating a desire and acting on it, it seems a little more surprising, and he comes across as a little more heroic.
Another excellent post Katherine. It’s not easy to be fresh with writing topics, but you always find a way.
Leo had me with the first paragraph. Even the first line, “When they write my obituary” shows he hasn’t given up on the world. He still thinks about his impact and how he will be remembered.
You’ve made this book a must read. Thanks for the time you put into your posts!
Thank you so much for your kind words, Sheri!
This one was not on my list but you’re right, it’s a good one. He is thinking to the future (even if it’s his death and how he’ll be remembered” (good catch, as this is important!!) and surrendering to its timing, which shows a certain wisdom.
I wonder if Amazon analytics is going to be able to figure out why a book published twelve years ago suddenly sold so many copies in one day! Thanks, Kathryn for the wonderful lesson. Can’t wait to hear your list of the hidden clues
Haha Maggie good point! “Writer UnBoxed—as good as a BookBub ad!” There may be something a little selfish in this, but I do like to believe a good novel never loses its shelf life.
I’ll put my list up this evening, ET!
I’m thankful this book was brought up today because honestly, if I had seen a book titled “The History of Love” I would have said “[YAWN]. I’ll pass.” But highlighting the opening page as you’ve done definitely doesn’t sound boring. You’ve certainly earned that cuppa Joe. 8-)
Great stuff, Kathryn. An author’s voice can whisk me away and Leo’s first person got me right away while he was rounding the bases. (Good thing the toilet was first base, since you don’t normally slide into first.) People have already mentioned the humor and the irony and the needing to be seen—chewy stuff.
Being in a character’s head can be so intimate. Even though it’s in third person, A Man Called Ove, which I recently read, was so thick with the main character’s thoughts, habits and flesh and blood. Such characters pad around in your brain for time to come, as I sure Leo does for all who have read of him. Or drawn him in a drawing class.
I have that on my TBR, Tom, suggested by a good friend. I’ll have to move it closer to the top.
Great comparison, Tom, curmudgeon Leo to curmudgeon Ove. And a point well made that third person need not limit you from burrowing deep into the protagonist’s POV.
The first few sentences were the clincher for me. If he feels he lives in an apartment full of shit and that is all he has in life, itf draw empathy from me and a chuckle. He’s got humor — I like that in a character. He sounds like he’s a realist, nothing beyond an apartment ‘full of shit’. With that humor, he is sure to be redeemable, and find the world can be much more than that.
Yes Eileen, self-deprecating humor is a great way to promise he’s equal to the challenges the book will throw in his way.
As promised, here are the 12 proofs of agency that I cam up with. They overlap a little, sometimes in the same sentence, yet by themselves constitute a reason I might hang in there with a character. A few I hadn’t noted can be found in the comments above.
1. His voice—very much alive.
2. Self-aware humor.
3. He “struggles” to keep a path clear to meet his needs (word choice: he’ll be equal to the struggle ahead).
4. He’s a man with a plan—even if it’s just to get to the front door.
5. He has imagination (baseball) and imaginary supporters cheering him (crowd noise).
6. He has a friend who comes over who wants to see him.
7. Buys juice when not thirsty. To be seen. That’s creative!
8. He lingers over interactions with Chinese take-out boy and drops change in the Athlete’s Foot store, humiliating himself if necessary to achieve his goal.
9. He lingers with the Athlete’s Foot clerk to connect with another human.
10. Despite pain, he goes down on knees (supplication)—and gets back up (he will prevail).
11. A pithy, philosophical desire: “All I want is not to die on day when I went unseen.”
12. A nude modeling ad seems “too good to be true.” To have so much looked at. By so many. — Ha! He thinks outside the box.
I’ve been anxiously waiting to get home all day so I could request the digital loan of this book through the library. What nailed it for me was:
“I’m surprised I haven’t been buried alive. The place isn’t big. I have to struggle to keep a path clear between bed and toilet, toilet and kitchen table, kitchen table and front door.”
I know someone who lives like this and so Leo made himself totally relatable!
My first mother-in-law lived like this too! Her place was filled with flea market boxes. One time she fell on her rear in the living room and the path wasn’t wide enough to roll over so she could stand (she was in her eighties), so she had to scoot on her butt through the living room, through the dining room, and through the kitchen to the back door so she could use the knob to pull herself up!