The Unlikely Hero
By Juliet Marillier | March 9, 2022 |
Let’s talk about heroes. I’m not talking sporting heroes or comic book superheroes. I’m using the term hero to mean a person of any gender who demonstrates extraordinary courage and acts in a way that makes change for good in the world. Some people, through birth or other circumstances, seem destined to live heroic lives. An unlikely hero, on the other hand, is someone whose heroism comes as a surprise to us – it simply isn’t what we expected of such a person. Such individuals appear in the oldest stories of many cultures: folklore, legends, fairy tales. From time to time they appear in our literary works. And they exist in real life, though we don’t always witness their remarkable deeds or recognise them for what they are. Sometimes our unlikely heroes just get on with what has to be done.
There’s a common pattern to this in many traditional stories. We might start with three brothers or sisters and a quest to be completed. Siblings A and B are big, strong and confident, though possibly also selfish/unkind/thoughtless. Sibling C is seen by the family as lesser – quieter, weaker, too soft-hearted for their own good, perhaps a bit of a dreamer. They may be a step-sibling or half-sibling to the others. When the challenge comes, it’s A and B who go out, in turn, to confront the dragon or find the treasure or whatever. Both A and B make errors, generally because they won’t listen to good advice, or refuse to perform an act of kindness that may stall their progress, or are so focussed on the goal that they don’t bother to pick up clues along the way. A and B both fail in the quest.
Sibling C is the unlikely hero, someone who does not display traditionally heroic attributes such as great physical strength, charisma, excellence in fighting and so on. Sibling C takes time on the journey; listens to strangers they encounter; stops to help those in trouble (old woman carrying a heavy load; injured bird; lost dog that nudges C along a different path.) Sibling C does not contemplate the reward for the task as they make the journey. C wants to do their best, and as kindness comes naturally to them, they take the time to be kind along the way. The dreamer who used to play tunes on the whistle while out tending the sheep now stops beside the track to entertain a group of travellers and is rewarded with gifts of food and information that will prove vital to the quest. Sibling C may also pick up various companions along the way, the sort of folk with whom A and B would never mingle, and they help C with the task. In the end it is the unlikely hero who completes the quest.
It’s ironic, in view of what sparked this post, that an obvious choice of an unlikely hero from classic literature is the socially awkward Pierre Bezhukov from Tolstoy’s War and Peace. As the illegitimate son of a count, Pierre unexpectedly inherits a fortune and finds himself catapulted into the upper echelons of Russian society. Over the course of the truly epic story, the reader sees this misfit character grow and shine in humanity, kindness and courage. In fantasy fiction unlikely heroes abound, perhaps because fairy tales and folklore are antecedents of this genre. What hero is less likely than the hobbit Frodo from Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings trilogy? Small of stature, unworldly and completely devoid of superpowers, Frodo nonetheless volunteers to undertake the terrifying task of carrying the cursed ring to Mount Doom and throwing it into the fire. What advantages does this unlikely hero have? A kind heart. A moral compass. An unselfish temperament. Friends. In fact, under the evil influence of the ring, Frodo fails at the final challenge, but a quirk of fate sees the mission achieved. It could be said that Sam Gamgee, the faithful companion without whom Frodo would not have made it to Mount Doom, is the true (and even less likely) hero of the story.
What put the idea for this post into my head? The appearance in real life of a remarkable unlikely hero. Recent events in Ukraine woke us up to the extraordinary story of how an actor/comedian/film producer became the charismatic leader and rallying voice for a nation in crisis. I’m talking about Volodymyr Zelenskyy, president of Ukraine. As I write this, Russia is invading Ukraine. Bombs are falling on major cities, and hundreds of thousands of civilians are fleeing across borders or huddling in underground shelters with their children and pets. Where is the president? Not safely in his office protected by armed guards. Not leaving the country for a place of refuge (this option was offered and he refused to go.) Zelenskyy is out among his people, rallying Ukrainian fighters, listening to ordinary folk, showing with every word and every move that he is one of them, and at the same time a heroic leader with a gift for oratory. Heroism comes from within; it’s not about being big and strong, or having the loudest voice, or being best at fighting. It comes from the heart, and from an understanding that we are all one.
While planning this piece I looked back over my own work, most of it in the historical fantasy genre, and thought about which characters I might call heroes. Most of my books contain at least one. Quite a few of them fall into the ‘unlikely’ category. Some are protagonists and some are significant supporting characters. I’ve written a few scenes of heroic self-sacrifice. Such scenes are among the most challenging for me to write, and remain difficult to re-read even years later (they’re up there with scenes in which the dog dies.) Such scenes are necessary to the storytelling which, despite its historical settings and fantasy elements, reflects our flawed world with its triumphs and tragedies, its dark shadows and its hopeful dawns. I’ve written heroes who start their stories as beaten-down characters and gradually regain their spark of courage. A very young woman with a dependent child, fleeing from an abusive situation after taking extreme action to break free (The Well of Shades). An older woman damaged by traumatic experiences, eaten up by anger and struggling to regain control of her life (Blackthorn & Grim). A man whose losses have come close to breaking him, but whose kind heart never falters (also Blackthorn & Grim). Unlikely heroes all of them. Fictional characters, yes – but human beings like us. People like Volodymyr Zelenskyy, Greta Thunberg, Malala Yousafzai and many others we could name. If we dig deep enough within ourselves, perhaps each of us can find the courage to step up, to speak out, to make our world a better place. As a writer, that’s a message I feel compelled to pass on in the traditional way: through storytelling.
Writers, are there unlikely heroes in your work? Tell us about them. Is it a conscious choice to create such characters on the page, or do they spring unannounced into your imagination?
Readers, who are your favourite unlikely heroes in fiction, and why?
Photo 99656242 / Courage © Mbolina | Dreamstime.com
Juliet Marillier has written twenty-four novels for adults and young adults and two collections of short fiction. Her works of historical fantasy have been published around the world and have won numerous awards. Juliet’s most recent series was Warrior Bards, of which the third and final book, A Song of Flight, was published in 2021. Her collection of reimagined fairy tales, Mother Thorn and Other Tales of Courage and Kindness, had its trade release in 2022. Mother Thorn is illustrated by Kathleen Jennings and published by Serenity Press.
Juliet is currently working on a two-book fantasy series. The first book in this duology, The Amber Owl, will be published by New Dawn in February 2025.
When not writing, Juliet looks after a small crew of rescue dogs.
Dang, Juliet–you’ve gone and gotten me feeling all of the feels again. Mostly because Zelenskyy. As “they” say in my story-world, “Songs will be sung.”
(Sorry, there may be a mild spoiler effect for Warrior Bards ahead.)
Zelenskyy is one thing, but since I recently completed Song of Flight, I can see Brocc written in all the nooks and crannies of this lovely essay. I mean, it’s one thing to not be the big, brash, outgoing warrior-type sibling. It’s great to have the charisma and fine voice of a bard. But to see through the viciousness of the foe, to somehow perceive that those who seem to senselessly inflict pain and suffering on others–even to kill–could somehow be doing so out of their own pain and suffering. Yeah, that’s something special. But to seek to overcome such a circumstance, losing almost everything in the process, to carry on trying to overturn it, putting yourself at great risk throughout? Yeah, that’s a special kind of hero. And his tale is all the more special because I never saw it coming.
Bravo! Thanks for the reminder that I need to write a review–will do so today. Here’s to the heroes, with particular gratitude to the unlikely ones. And here’s to the storytellers that show us their worth, and prod us to aspire.
Thanks for this lovely response, Vaughn! Yes, Zelenskyy is the stuff of legend. I only hope his story does not end tragically. As for Brocc, that is a wonderful interpretation of his journey – perhaps he was there in my mind prompting the post, who knows?
I love an unlikely hero story, and you’ve made me stop to ponder why. They’re relatable, these folks. And I think because of that, they give us hope that “extraordinary” can rise up from the seemingly “ordinary” among us—that we all have this capacity, and need only our moment to shine.
We for certain need people to find and call on their inner hero, now more than ever.
Thanks for this, Juliet.
Spot on, Therese. Such individuals keep our hope alive. Maybe also our faith in the innate goodness of humankind, no matter what terrible things we see.
Juliet, what a beautiful post. Frodo Baggins, of course, popped into my mind right away. But then, having gotten halfway through Anna Karenina, I thought of Levin. Maybe not a saver of worlds, but a man of heart, an aristocrat by blood, but a humble man, able to see the beauty in a simpler life. I also found Count Rostov (A Gentleman in Moscow) to be quietly heroic, maintaining his dignity as indignities are heaped upon him. I have a character in my first book who has been cursed into this ‘other’ form, which is a cat, and who manages to use this to the advantage the people he cares about. I love him because in his regular form (A D’Anu) he is a portly man of large appetites. Reduced to eating kibble and mice, he transcends humiliation to fund his inner hero, driven by love. He gives me hope, as do all the heroes you mentioned. Love is stronger than hate. It transforms people and lives and countries. I’m betting on it changing the world.
Ah yes – Count Rostov from A Gentleman in Moscow would have been my next example if I’d had room.
Your cat/man character sounds brilliant – I think I need to read that book! And I so hope you are right above love changing the world – we are overdue for that.
I’m drawn to stories of average, everyday people forced to act. They may not save the world, but they save their small part of it. So yes, I write unlikely heroes. As a reader, it helps me identify with the protagonist. Just as you say, if she can pull it off, maybe I can too. Though, honestly, if someone had written Zelensky as fiction, would an agent or editor reject the story out of hand as too unbelievable? I hope we get a happy ending here.
Your post reminds us that the hero’s journey comes in many varieties. No armor or swords are necessary. The strength of faith and sacrifice are what allows a character, a human being to take on the greatest of odds. In my WIP it is a child. Watching the news in Ukraine, I know I’m not creating a fantasy, but reality. Thanks for your post.
Great comment, Elizabeth, and I love your definition of a hero. Here in Australia the term is too often used in relation to achievement in sports, in particular. Winning a surfing tournament – excellent but not heroic. Risking your own life to save a drowing person – definitely heroic. Singing or playing music to calm others while sheltering in a basement while bombs fall outside – that is its own kind of heroism.
Me too, Elaine, re the happy ending. Zelenskyy has a really big and ruthless dragon to fight.
I love unlikely heros. My mother was one. The one who always comes to mind is King David, how he was chosen.
King David is one of those legendary heroes – I think the David/Goliath story must have inspired many, many other tales in the years since it first became known.
My hero (about whom an Amazon reviewer wrote: “…Kary is CLEARLY a hero, by any criteria you want to apply apart from armed combat, and she is the center of the book. She lives in isolation in New Hampshire, and writes … She has other grief in her life, but she does not share the pain casually.”) is highly unlikely, older, and chronically ill to boot. Not exactly who you’d think might be the protagonist in a mainstream love story as unlikely as she is.
But she’s the entire reason I am writing THIS story. Because the world has very low expectations for even the basic humanity of such women, and the disabled in general.
Kary sounds like an interesting protagonist – I love your reasons for putting her in the centre of the story. I’m sure you wrote with passion and conviction. It’s appalling that we are still fighting this kind of prejudice.
And once that is said, it has to be hidden very carefully in as entertaining a story as I can write – because no one likes being preached to.
Absolutely, Alicia – a person who writes a heavy-handed message has forgotten that the storytelling comes first. My favourite example of a really absorbing book whose message is seamlessly woven into the story is Richard Powers’ The Overstory.
I’m with Elaine Burnes, “drawn to average, everyday people forced to act.” In some odd, exaggerated way, this seems to me to be true of Zelenskyy. Nothing about him pointed the way to greatness–until he resisted an evil American president, and now the even more evil Putin. But I think of heroes in the all-inclusive sense of central characters in stories. I’m now finishing a story in which the central character bears no resemblance to Frodo: kind, with an unselfish temperament. He may have a moral compass, but my character’s capacity for kindness and unselfishness is liberated not by some big challenge, but by a dog. No one’s ever going to know why and how he changed, except the reader.
As a complete dog nut, I love the sound of your story. Dogs have such power to bring out the best in people, to help and to heal them.
What a lovely post, Juliet. Much of what I write is cozy mystery, not epic at all, but involving big problems in the lives of ordinary people, and it occurs to me that part of the appeal of the cozy mystery protagonist is her unlikeliness. She’s a librarian or bookseller, she runs a pub or a retail shop — and yet, she steps up and in when no one else does or can. She uses her ordinary strengths — the knowledge of the community or the business, her connections to other people, her curiosity and kindness — to solve the mystery, identify the criminal, and restore the social order. That is heroic, isn’t it?
I absolutely agree, Leslie. I love that kind of story.
Juliet, thank you. This was an excellent post and very well timed.
I was on a lit forum earlier reading some comments about someone else’s story and thought how important strong secondary characters are. I love unlikely heroes also. I am fascinated by the Russian Night Witches. If I were younger and had time I’d write a book about them even though others already have. What a remarkable group of women.
Irena Sendler is a hero everyone should know about, but few do. What courage it took to do what she did.
I got into a debate about Zelenskyy a couple of days ago and someone linked a comedy routine he did of him “playing” the piano with his pants down. He’s a clown, undignified, the person said. “That’s your hero?” It only made me love him more. I hope he survives the war.
Writers, are there unlikely heroes in your work? Tell us about them. Is it a conscious choice to create such characters on the page, or do they spring unannounced into your imagination?
I always have strong secondary people. It’s a writer’s flaw. Some are onions and I have to peel back their layers as the stories go on. Some are mushrooms and spring up fully formed and some, as Diana Gabaldon says, are tough nuts and you have to crack them, but I seldom have people who don’t “breathe” for me. As Hemingway said, don’t write characters. They are cardboard. Write people.
In my fantasy, one unlikely hero is a “senile”, semi-alcoholic wizard. In the Civil War novel, it’s two little girls who are always in trouble, a horse who visits with the cymbees in the pond and thwarts an army, a little boy with Down Syndrome among others. It’s war in both books. Ordinary people do extraordinary things.
Great comment, Julie. I love the analogy of onions, mushrooms and tough nuts. I try to build every character, including those with secondary roles in the story, as a real individual with strengths and weaknesses, aspirations, hang-ups, and so on. What lies in their past? What shapes their decisions? How do they grow and change? And so on … All of that may not go down on the page, but it’s in my head as I write.
Interestingly synchronistic to stumble upon this post, while idly scanning for older women writers. There are quite a few of us! And as for unlikely heroes, in writing my memoir Victory Is My Name (became a trilogy, book-one self-published in Sept. 2021) I discovered to my astonishment how brave I myself was, as a smallish, shy, quiet latchkey kid in the 1950’s with a bullying older brother and other baffling challenges of a family falling apart. I’d never looked at the past like this before, as if from above, an impartial observer, like a journalist, seeing shat happened without personal involvement and just letting the child speak, not me the writer. I never realized before how things like separation, silence, and divorce are interpreted by a child who has no way to understand grownup things. So I thought it was my fault.
I stole this idea from Tobias Wolff, whose book This Boy’s Life was written that way. Wow what a revelation that was, when the child told what was happening in my family, as Toby told the events he saw, without any way to understand the deeper meanings of anything.
I’m one of so many women I’ve met now, in person or online, who have “always written” but not tried to publish till much later in life. I cans see the value of it. It gives you a much deeper and wider perspective. And in my case, I had to do all these things – graphic artist, psychology student, firefighter, paramedic, ER caregiver, first – to learn how to understand some things, and to have some adventures to write about. Biggest lie to overcome: You can’t do that/ have that/ be that because you’re a girl. Biggest win/ life-lesson: Girl’s Can.
A child’s point of view in fiction can be enlightening, though it needs a lot of skill in the writing. A novel I really love, all told from the point of view of a boy of around 8 or 9, is Gingerbread by Robert Dinsdale. Part historical fiction, part folktale, part survival story, it’s truly wonderful (but quite grim.) The author makes use of grandfather’s stories, told to the boy while they are on a journey in the frozen forest, to fill in details of past wartime experiences and what shaped the man that grandfather has become.