Villains and the Christian writer
This entry was posted on Friday, November 16. 2007 and is filed under Writing CSFF,Posts by Chris Walley.
It has struck me that one of the distinguishing features of Christian literature is its treatment of the villains. This, is of course no little matter: both societies and authors may be measured by how they treat evildoers. It seems to me, speaking (as always) as a writer rather than a literary critic, that there are a number of issues here. Let me go through some. Incidentally, I hope female readers will excuse the choice of male language for the villain. (As an aside, has anybody else noticed that not even the most fervent feminist seems keen on altering the traditional gender of Satan?)
At the start, it has to be said that the Christian view of the villain is I think, very unusual. On the one hand, there is a sense of identity. Even the most terrible creatures were once as we were. One of the notable features of Lord of the Rings is the way that it is made clear that Gollum (the best-drawn villain in the books) was once as the hobbits were. This of course fits with the biblical verdict: we are sinners. Only grace prevents us from being real villains. Yet although there is this sense of identity, there is also a real sense of differentiation. Not for us the curious twilight world of the modern novel in which it is impossible to draw any real meaningful distinction between hero and villain. I would like to think that any Christian writer would shy away from presenting a villain in such an endearing way as to draw us into his wickedness. We may ask the reader to understand our man’s evil actions; we may seek our readers’ sympathy for his actions but we can never seek their assent or agreement to that evil.
Another distinctive aspect of Christian writing is the refusal of the writer to create a villain out of his or her pet hates or (far, far worse), from those that he knows the intended readership has. It is easy to do this to in racial terms: how very tempting to set up an evil Arab villain, or until the recent rapprochement with Monsieur Sarkozy, a French antihero? Yet it goes beyond race: an amply proportioned colleague of mine lamented to me only this week that fat people were always villains and never heroes. A fair point. Equally, though, we must also steer away from racism’s only slightly less insidious counterpart, that political correctness or prejudice which refuses to allow any villainy to be allowed to certain races.
There is much more that could be said, but finally, let us talk of endings. It is traditional that the villain meet his just deserts. Fair enough, but as Christians trusting in the ultimate judgment of God couldn’t we perhaps forego this? It is also deemed essential that our villain meet a sticky end. Aren’t we in danger of gloatingly throwing our creatures to the lions knowing that the baying mob in the arena will roar with pleasure? Would a better approach not be a sad regretful tone that death and judgment has overtaken a man or woman made in God’s image. Donne was surely right, ‘every man’s death diminishes me, for I am involved with mankind’. How much so any man’s damnation?
At the start, it has to be said that the Christian view of the villain is I think, very unusual. On the one hand, there is a sense of identity. Even the most terrible creatures were once as we were. One of the notable features of Lord of the Rings is the way that it is made clear that Gollum (the best-drawn villain in the books) was once as the hobbits were. This of course fits with the biblical verdict: we are sinners. Only grace prevents us from being real villains. Yet although there is this sense of identity, there is also a real sense of differentiation. Not for us the curious twilight world of the modern novel in which it is impossible to draw any real meaningful distinction between hero and villain. I would like to think that any Christian writer would shy away from presenting a villain in such an endearing way as to draw us into his wickedness. We may ask the reader to understand our man’s evil actions; we may seek our readers’ sympathy for his actions but we can never seek their assent or agreement to that evil.
Another distinctive aspect of Christian writing is the refusal of the writer to create a villain out of his or her pet hates or (far, far worse), from those that he knows the intended readership has. It is easy to do this to in racial terms: how very tempting to set up an evil Arab villain, or until the recent rapprochement with Monsieur Sarkozy, a French antihero? Yet it goes beyond race: an amply proportioned colleague of mine lamented to me only this week that fat people were always villains and never heroes. A fair point. Equally, though, we must also steer away from racism’s only slightly less insidious counterpart, that political correctness or prejudice which refuses to allow any villainy to be allowed to certain races.
There is much more that could be said, but finally, let us talk of endings. It is traditional that the villain meet his just deserts. Fair enough, but as Christians trusting in the ultimate judgment of God couldn’t we perhaps forego this? It is also deemed essential that our villain meet a sticky end. Aren’t we in danger of gloatingly throwing our creatures to the lions knowing that the baying mob in the arena will roar with pleasure? Would a better approach not be a sad regretful tone that death and judgment has overtaken a man or woman made in God’s image. Donne was surely right, ‘every man’s death diminishes me, for I am involved with mankind’. How much so any man’s damnation?
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Friday, November 16. 2007
Johne Cook wrote:
I very much enjoyed this article.
re: endings
What Chris has sketched out strikes me as parameters, the roar of the crowd on one side, and introspective regret on the other. I think we're missing the third option, where the fate of the villain is recounted as it happens with neither acclaim /nor/ regret.
I think my affection for Greg House, M.D. is affecting my patience with artificially perfect characters.
If the villain does meet their death, why not write the event as-is and let the nature of the character define their response?
I like genuine characters who aren't afraid to be who they are, warts and all. There is this idea that Christian characters already must be perfect, and I resist that. I don't know any perfect people.
I think it would be refreshing to find a character who is righteous inasmuch as they know how to be, but is unafraid to be who they are. When harried and persecuted and badgered nigh unto death themselves, and survives a life-or-death struggle with an antagonist, I think it would be interesting if they observed "I didn't think that guy would ever die." The delivery might be sardonic, and it might be sincere, but it wouldn't be boring.
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Friday, November 16. 2007
Valerie wrote:
Great article, Chris! Lots to think about.
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Friday, November 16. 2007
Valerie L Smith wrote:
The tendency to see villains as we are may stem from the fact that even Satan was once a good angel. Perhaps we don't want to believe that anything such as pure evil exists. If that is true, then there is hope for everyone, real or fictional.
For example, I loved the Star Wars movies. My dislike for Darth Vader and my opinion of him as a villain was dramatically changed once I saw the last film. Learning about him as a young man and how he had been manipulated by evil made me much more sympathetic toward him.
When people read fiction or see a movie, I think they always want to see good prevail over evil. They want to know that the balance of power is still in tact. Plus, we live in an age of "instant" everything - from pudding to loans to gratification of all sorts. The thought of waiting for the villain to receive his punishment on judgment day is just too painful! We might write of the villain's impending damnation, but they want us to cast him to the wolves right now.
It seems that when things aren't wrapped up neatly at the end of a book or a movie, the audience is left feeling uneasy. I'm not saying that's always bad. Sometimes that's a good thing. It leaves people thinking and talking about it. But when the bad guy is still out there, wandering the streets...
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Friday, November 16. 2007
Amanda wrote:
Yet, does it not seem a trifle dangerous, this new tendency to make villains seem more sympathetic, even empathetic? Is this trend a step into the deadly mists of relativism? I'm not trying to be melodramtic, but blurring lines can make it easier to conform.
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Friday, November 16. 2007
Mark Lucashu wrote:
Loved this article. Excellent points. I would say, however, that I don't see any shame in rejoicing over the death of a demon. Obviously, we need to avoid vindictive, self-righteous joy in regards to any death, but, even though Satan was once good, he is not now, nor ever will be again. There can be no redemption for him, the Bible makes this clear. And considering the evil done by and through him, while we may feel pity and even sorrow that such a being fell so far, being glad to see their end and the removal of said evil should never be viewed as wrong. Wouldn't Satan love to have us all weeping at his funeral, crying out at the injustice of it all. Almost like Milton's Paradise Lost. Tragic though their falls may be, demons are not the "good rebels" fighting against the "evil empire" of God. They are, now, irredeemably evil, to the extent that God has decreed their end eternal. I see no problem in agreeing with God. The problem is our hearts, and what we're nurturing inside.
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Saturday, November 17. 2007
Chris Walley wrote:
This is by way of an answer to a couple of you on what is clearly an interesting topic. I'm grateful for all the comments; forgive me for not dealing with these issues in greater detail. First, do note that my reference was entirely to humans. I rejoice over any destruction of a demon. Second, it seems to be that, as almost always, there are two extreme errors here and a real peril in so resolutely avoiding the one that we slide into the other. Yes there is a peril with trying to see where evil people have come from and lamenting their demise. But is fiction here any different from life where we often have to deal with flawed characters in messy situations? I suspect in heaven we will be able to have a perfect perspective on the death of the unsaved and thus be able to rejoice eternally, untroubled by regret over the lost. Yet this side of eternity I am cautious about delighting in the death and damnation of the wicked and would prefer to risk erring on the side of empathy and grief. Personally, I find to do otherwise is to risk a gloating which can grade far too easily into hatred of one’s enemies. Those more saintly than me may have less difficulty here. Anyway, you can see how I have dealt personally with the problem in the final volume of the Lamb among the Stars trilogy, the Infinite Day when it comes out!
Blessings
Chris
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Saturday, November 17. 2007
Chris Walley wrote:
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Sunday, November 18. 2007
Mark Lucashu wrote:
Excellent point, Chris. And I do look foward to reading Infinite Day. I think a good example can be seen in your latest book, actually, Dark Foundations. When Merral fights Lezaroth, he's not moralizing over whether fighting this evil man is right or wrong. However, it's clear that he is still a merciful, godly character that is not going to brutally butcher the Dominion's men (humans). I can't explain it better then to say that I think you accomplished a good balance of just disgust towards evil and the merciful pains of regret that our Savior has surely felt.
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