Humbled, exalted

Yesterday afternoon my daughter and I watched what I believed would be a cute tween film, The Greening of Whitney Brown. About ten minutes in, I felt bad for Brooke Shields and Aidan Quinn for having their names attached to this clunker full of goofy, poorly motivated plot turns and thin characterization.

The biggest problem, according to my daughter, is that the story is "just like Cars." What does she mean? The story features a protagonist who is by all accounts a winner--competent, worshiped, healthy, wealthy. But he/she is simultaneously arrogant, impatient, unkind, boastful, rude. All the things that St. Paul in I Corinthians 13 says that love is NOT.

Both of these stories are based on the Greek tragedy plot, in which a hero full of hubris (false pride) suffers for it and is humbled, which leads to deep personal change, or to death if he refuses to change.

The tricky thing is, a certain segment of the audience will not connect with a Greek tragic hero. Their sense of a good story is shaped by the Judeo-Christian plot of the Messianic hero, figured in Moses and David, Jesus and Peter. These guys come from humble beginnings, get kicked around a lot, sacrifice for others and in the end are exalted.

Interestingly, both plot types assume that proud=bad and humble=good. But the Greek tragic hero method approaches the "lesson" from a punitive stance (punishing the wrong), while the Messianic hero method does so from a reward stance (honoring the right).

What does this mean for your writing? Be aware that getting your audience to connect with a hero who's arrogant and must get his comeuppance is extremely hard to pull off in certain genres. The only YA I've read that does this really well is Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver. You'd do well to study how she achieves an unlikable queen bee's metamorphosis into a humble and heroic figure.

I think the key to Oliver's success is that she sows seeds of hope for change into the characterization from the beginning. Neither Lightning McQueen nor Whitney Brown show any signs of having an identity apart from arrogantly putting others down. You want them to fail, and it's hard to hang onto audience when they wish nothing but bad for your protagonist.

Ramble news
Today, I'm over at Play off the Page, where Mary Aalgaard interviewed me about inspirations for Never Gone and why I mixed ghosts and God in the story.

Do you prefer to read about Greek tragic heroes or Messianic heroes? Can you think of other Greek tragic hero plots that worked well?

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The slow-growing hero

Today, I'd like to talk about a character in the Harry Potter books I've most enjoyed watching change and grow over the series: Neville Longbottom.

In Rowling's world of evocative names like Pomona Sprout and Severus Snape, Neville's is one of the most interesting. "Neville," from the French, means "new village" and Longbottom, more obviously, means one who remains lowly, at the bottom, for a long time. Put them together, and I see prophecy: the boy who stays long at the bottom will be the foundation of a new civilization.

Like Harry, Neville lost his parents traumatically during Voldemort's first uprising. Unlike Harry, Neville knows everything about it. He knows what happened to them (cruciatus curse), who did it and exactly where she is (Bellatrix Lestrange, prisoner in Azkaban). You get the sense that his extended family draws a certain pride from rehearsing the story of how Frank and Alice refused to give up information under torture and went into catatonic shock because of it. Like Harry, Neville is haunted by his parents, but his ghosts are corporeal and he gets dragged to St. Mungo's to be regularly re-haunted by them.

If anyone has reason to become dark and twisted, it's Neville. And yet, he initially reacts to it not with anger but by shutting down. He's notoriously forgetful, as if this is his regular mental pattern. He wants to just forget, to be numb. The magical world scares him--he's seen how powerfully evil it can be. He works against himself subconsciously, not really wanting to be a wizard. His great uncle Algy finally manages to trigger some magic in the poor boy by shoving him out an upper-story window, and Neville's magical instincts kick in to save him from injury. This will remain Neville's pattern for many of the books--magic only under duress--until he can get a handle on his fear and begin to grasp his own inner strength.

Greatness has been thrust upon Neville by his Gran, who fully expects him to live up to his auror parents' example. Her expectations seem to hurt more than help, and yet, having someone see something worthwhile in him does provide a foundation from which he can change.

Harry has empathy for Neville from the beginning--he sees a kid likely to be bullied the way Dudley bullied him and his protective instincts kick in. While others get fed up with Neville's bumbling, Harry continues to defend him in his weakness. In book one, Harry tells Neville, "You're worth ten of Malfoy." For Neville to hear that from a peer, one who has had as tough a beginning as himself, sets more foundation stones for Neville's storehouse of courage.

In Prisoner of Azkaban, we see a parallel of Neville in James's generation--Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew eventually becomes a betrayer because James, unlike his son, never took any pains to encourage his hanger-on and treat him like a true friend. In Harry's friendship with Neville, we see hopeful signs that Harry will succeed where his father and the older generation failed.

It is not until Order of the Phoenix that Neville begins to come into his own, for two reasons. First, Neville's peers work hard to bolster his confidence. Second, Neville at last opens up to others about what happened to his parents. I wish the St. Mungo's scene had been included in the film, because it is so pivotal to Neville's development in the book. His parents being alive but catatonic has long been a sore point for Neville. How can heroes look so, well, embarrassing? Again, Harry's reaction to Neville's shame is affirming, and this clearly enables Neville to stop his pattern of self-sabotage.

By book seven, Neville is able to fill Harry's shoes as the head of the D.A., and endures torture from the Carrows with the same bravery as his parents, Frank and Alice Longbottom.

I have to admit, one of my very favorite parts of book seven is when Neville proves himself a true heir of Gryffindor, grasps Godric's sword and destroys the final horcrux.  Neville has come a long, long way from crawling, teary-eyed, on the floor of Hogwart's Express searching for his toad.


What are your thoughts on Neville's transformation from the butt of jokes to the heir of Gryffindor?

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What makes a villain? Part 3: Hero in villain's clothing

This week, I've been looking at Rowling's complex characterizations over the series, focusing especially on the villainous characters. In PART 1, I examined the Dursely and Malfoy families. In PART 2, I delved into the faces of evil we see in Umbridge and Voldemort. Today, I want to look at the complex, misunderstood character Severus Snape.

Snape: the hero in villain's clothing

Harry and Snape first encounter one another during the opening banquet and sorting ceremony. Snape seems to be studying him carefully, and Harry initially reads it as sinister intent. Snape looks dangerous--he's all in black, lean and hungry-looking, dark eyes glittering with what Harry reads as pure malice. Harry's accustomed to being judged by his fearful, approval-hungry relatives. But this look? Not fearful. Something else. Something Harry can't name or understand, and it unnerves him.

But from what we learn of Snape over the course of the series, Snape's initial reaction is likely exceedingly complex. Here is the "boy who lived" while his beloved died to save this child. He resembles Snape's childhood rival, James Potter. The whole school is abuzz with this child's celebrity. And yet...the kid is completely clueless. The celebrity is totally lost on him. And while Snape fully expects Harry to be James's arrogant, bullying clone, he finds a confused, scared little boy who had an upbringing a whole lot like, well, his own! Harry, too, bears the marks of adult neglect, stuck wearing ill-fitting hand-me-downs and having bad hair. While seeing himself in Harry ought to stir Snape's sympathy, it does the opposite. It stirs up his own self-loathing. These ugly characteristics, after all, are what he believes kept him from winning Lily.

I find it highly ironic that the student Snape favors is the real heir of James Potter: Draco Malfoy. Does that shock you? Seriously, Draco is far, far more like James that Harry is. He's from a rich, pureblood family and lords it over others. He's arrogant and a bully. In place of Crabbe and Goyle, James had Remus and Sirius, who helped him torment the throwaway kid of his generation, Snape. Draco and James even play the same Quidditch position--Seeker. In currying Draco's goodwill, Snape is unwittingly still trying to be accepted by James Potter.

Beyond seeing his hated rival and the hated throwaway-child part of himself in Harry, Snape also sees his beloved. Lily died so this child could live. Snape wants to honor her memory and prove himself her truest of loves. He will protect Lily's child and avenge her death, even if it tears him up inside to do it, even if he has to grit his teeth all the while.

Now there's some complex characterization for you!

Surely Snape's inner conflicts appear on the surface as villainy. He singles Harry out for ridicule and uses his position of power to put Harry down. And yet...Snape guards Harry's life in book after book with no concern for his own personal safety. The only times we ever see Snape being remotely fearful is when he thinks Lily's son might be in mortal danger. Snape knows that Harry is pivotal in bringing down Lily's killer. He does all he can to aid Harry's success, acting as a spy among the Death Eaters in order to track their movements and plans, biding his time until he can avenge Lily.

It isn't until the final moments of Snape's life that Harry begins to put together all the pieces. But when he does, it's like the scales fall off his hate-blinded eyes. He realizes that true heroes act on behalf of those they love with no thought for themselves. Snape cared only about Lily and Lily's legacy. He didn't care if people misunderstood and hated him for it. His own reputation mattered not at all. He is the anti-Dursleys in this way. He wants only to empower Harry, not grasp power for himself. He is the anti-Voldemort.

In the end, Harry realizes the extent to which his life has been entwined with Snape's. How Snape has been a true father to him. As Harry faces Voldemort in their final battle, it is Snape's example he follows. Motivated by love for Lily (and James) as well as Ginny, Harry sacrifices himself and finds final redemption.

What do you think of this complex interplay of the past and present in Snape's characterization?

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Awesome action authors to the rescue!

Finally, a manufacturer really gets it! REAL heroes for our daughters to emulate!

For today's Friday Fun, I give you the Bronte sisters as you've never seen them before, performing daring deeds that broke through the chauvinist hegemony in the publishing world.



Having trouble viewing this? Click HERE.

Thanks to my awesome teen beta-reader, Connor Grace, for telling me about this video.

It's hard to imagine the world without Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights or The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. The Bronte sisters took the risky move of publishing under male pseudonyms: Ellis (Emily), Currer (Charlotte) and Acton (Anne) Bell. They eventually had to reveal their female identities because of a copyright dispute (US publishers thought the "Bell brothers" were one person). By then, their books were big hits and publishers began to rethink their anti-authoress stance. If you're a girl and you write, you have the Brontes to thank that you have a chance of actually getting your work published.

What's your favorite book by a Bronte? What other literary history heroes need to be remembered with an awesome action figure?

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