Friday, June 20, 2014

Characterization Through Interaction--Showing Our Characters' Souls

The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated. 
–Mahatma Gandhi

You can easily judge the character of a man by how he treats those who can do nothing for him. 
–Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

If you want to see the true measure of a man, watch how he treats his inferiors, not his equals. 
–J.K. Rowling

The true measure of a man is how he treats someone who can do him absolutely no good. 
–Samuel Johnson

It’s really no secret that watching how a person treats others, both human and animal, reveals a great deal about that individual.  How many times have we heard stories about how someone thought their date was a wonderful human being, but then watched him/her talk down to the server at the restaurant?  Or how a different date was elevated in the hierarchy of humanity when he/she left a generous tip after noticing that the server was waiting on six other tables and was clearly stressed out and struggling?

Showing our characters doing and saying things to those who are in some way inferior is a powerful tool for characterization.  The inferiority might be ingrained into a culture, such as in a caste system or in a situation of slavery, or it might be temporary, as in the case of a restaurant server or other customer service worker.

First, some examples:

In Game of Thrones, (spoilers coming) Cersei proclaims herself a villain to be reckoned with when she orders 12ish-year-old Sansa’s direwolf pup to be executed in answer to a crime neither Sansa nor her direwolf had anything to do with.  How much evil does that one scene contain?  How much do we hate Cersei?  All because she abused her authority and power in order to punish a child and her puppy.  CHILD!  PUPPY!  BOTH INNOCENT!  This happens early in the series, and readers thirst for Cersei’s comeuppance from that point on.

On the other hand, the same process can be used to make someone the good guy.  In the Harry Potter series, the half-giant Hagrid could use his size and strength for great evil.  Yet he dedicates his life to caring for animals, no matter if they’re cute or ugly, snuggly or deadly.  While not considered “human,” Hagrid becomes human to the reader, and when he leaves his beloved dog Fang in Harry’s care, that says a lot.  The Scorpio Races also does this very well.  (Read that book if you haven’t!)  It features water horses, predatory sea creatures that migrate onto an inhabited island every autumn.  The occupants of this island have a tradition of capturing, training, and racing these water horses in November, an event that usually involves the death of at least one rider.  Maggie Steifvater introduces Sean, a character whose love, respect, and compassion for these animals allows him to understand them in a way that no one else can.  We have to root for this guy, simply because of the way he treats an animal that most others fear.

Some observations I’ve made with characterization done this way have led me to a few key guidelines.

1.  Our characters know this rule, too.  Keep characterization for the reader separate from characterization for other characters.

Sometimes we have to hide character truths from our other characters.  Thinking that the serial killer is a great humanitarian will build suspense, so don’t let your hero see the villain berate the barista because the latte isn’t hot enough.  And don’t let the guy see the girl help the baby ducks out of the gutter if he needs to believe that she’s a shallow gold digger.

2.  What characters do when alone is far more meaningful than what they do when there are witnesses.

We need to get our characters alone to show the reader what they are really like, especially for characters who are smart enough to avoid revealing their true selves in public.  Some really great examples of this are found in anti-heroes like Jeff Lindsay’s Dexter Morgan and Barry Eisler’s John Rain.  It’s hard to root for a serial killer (Dexter Morgan) or assassin for hire (John Rain), but one way these writers help the reader to accept them is by having them make morally acceptable choices when no one’s watching.

3.  Make it part of the story.

We can't write an entire scene at a restaurant just so a character can leave a great tip.  Characterization can always be paired or grouped with other storytelling necessities.  We can use the restaurant to world build and allow the conversation to further the plot.

4.  Trust your reader to pick up on it the first time.

Cersei didn’t need to keep killing direwolf pups to prove her nastiness, and Hagrid didn’t need to create an activist group and magical wildlife preserve to prove his compassion.  Readers get it, so we need to move on.  That doesn't mean that we stop characterizing.  We just make use of the many other ways to provide characterization.

5.  Trust your reader to understand the interaction.

One of my favorite “overshares” in writing is when two or more characters discuss an action that occurred, with the obvious purpose being to explain to the reader what it all meant. 

Take for example an early (and successful) scene in Stephen King’s The Dead Zone in which a traveling Bible salesman kills a dog.  The dog is snarling at him, but he’s not threatened by the dog.  In fact, he calmly waits by the door wearing a friendly smile until he knows there’s no one home.  Then he sprays teargas into the dog’s eyes and kicks it.  To death.  While selling Bibles.  Because he’s a…well, only swear words will really do him justice, but for the purpose of keeping it clean, let’s just say he’s a giant jerk with no soul.  He’s cruel, dangerous, and a darn good faker.

Now imagine the nosy neighbor lady had witnessed the exchange, and she immediately picks up the phone and calls her friend down the street to describe what she just saw:
  • ·         Nosy Neighbor: [describes situation]  Can you believe that?  What do you think about that guy?
  • ·         Friend: Wow.  That guy’s really a giant jerk!
  • ·         Nosy Neighbor: And he doesn’t have a soul!
  • ·         Friend:  How could he have a soul?  Only giant jerks with no soul can be cruel to animals like that!
  • ·         Nosy Neighbor:  And while selling Bibles?  How ironic!
  • ·         Friend:  He must have two faces, don’t you think so?
  • ·         Nosy Neighbor:  Oh, yes.  He’s got to be dangerous.  And how would anyone know?  He was all smiles and Bibles until he thought he was alone.

Thankfully, Stephen King doesn’t subject his reader to that.  It’s a prevailing image, one that we won’t likely forget.  And when the salesman runs for political office, there is no need for any conversations to remind the reader about the incident with the dog and what that might imply about what’s in store.

6.  Separate yourself from the characters’ actions.


Stephen King got a lot of angry mail over the death of that dog.  Some readers saw it as an endorsement of animal cruelty.  The good news is that most readers understand that writers don’t endorse every action of every character—that to create a good story, characters necessarily have to make bad or evil choices.  When King had the salesman attack the dog, he intended one thing: for the reader to understand immediately that this character was a giant jerk with no soul who posed a great danger because of his ability to blend in.  The scene, though disturbing, did just that. (He goes into some detail about this in On Writing.)

For good or evil, our characters can interact with other characters and animals to show us a bit of their souls (or lack thereof).

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