Unlikeability

[ksmith]

A freeform discussion has been taking place in various parts of the blogverse regarding writerly self-indulgence and unlikeable characters and being taken to critical task for same. I like barbarienne's definition of self-indulgence, which include digressions and other exercises that the writer plugs into a work but that don't have a good reason for being there.

http://www.livejournal.com/users/barbarienne/13998.html?#cutid1



These digressions and such don't enlighten, move the plot forward, or enrich the story. They're the word version of doodling in the margins.

It is mentioned, however, that readers may not necessarily agree as to what constitutes digression, excessive purple prose, word wankage, etc. One reader's doodling is another's masterpiece.

The term I tend to take exception to is 'unlikeability', perhaps because my protag is considered by some to possess that trait. I confess that when I started writing the Jani books, the question of her likeability never entered my mind. She possessed the qualities necessary to live the life she led and to live the life I planned for her. She possessed strengths and "good" qualities that I felt sufficient to trump the fact that she was not a fuzzy bunny girl. These were not the only traits necessary to live a life like hers, certainly, and other writers would have no doubt written profoundly different characters that would have adapted just as well. But I wrote mine the way I thought she needed to be, and I doubt that I'd change her if I had the chance to go back and do so.

The thing is, I have never felt the need to like the protags in the books I have read. For the most part, I don't, even in cases where I read their stories over and over and never tire of seeing events through their eyes. I adore the Mapp & Lucia books, EF Benson's stories of two small town social harpies in the years between the wars. I don't like either of these women, and wouldn't want to meet either of them in person. But I love the stories about them, laugh at and occasionally root for one or the other, and try to reread the whole whackin' omnibus once a year or so. I find Tom Ripley, Patricia Highsmith's psychopathic protag, profoundly disturbing--this is one character that I would prefer did not know of my existence on this planet. But I find his stories riveting, and if he was anything other than he is, those stories would not possess the impact that they do.

I don't even find the term 'unsympathetic' particularly off-putting. What I think I require in order to stay with a character and their story is the ability to care about how they deal with their particular predicament, whatever it happens to be. The tricky thing is that 'care' does not necessarily contain a sympathetic or empathetic aspect. I can dislike a character profoundly, yet care about their story. There's a detachment there that I don't feel when dealing with actual folks in my everyday life.

Comments

[barbarienne.livejournal.com]

I dodged the "unlikeablility" question, because like you, I write and like to read about characters who are Not Always Nice.

But I don't think that's the sense in which the term is used in critical reviews, or chance88088's comments. Chance likes Not Nice characters. I think to her "unlikeable" means the kind of characters that she finds annoying to read about.

I can enjoy reading about tough characters, sadistic and heartless characters, fluffy-good characters, pick your range. I can even enjoy whiny characters, if done right. But the key word here is "done right." I have picked up books and found the characters utterly unpleasant--not because they are necessarily evil people, but because they irritate me. I don't want to be irritated when I read.

I design chicklit books. And while I never think, "Hey, this protagonist is like me!" or even "I like this protagonist!" there are at least some who I find inoffensive to read about. They are the sort about whom in real life one might say, "She seems nice," which is a code phrase for "I haven't discovered anything interesting about her, but she hasn't done anything offensive, either."

However, most of the protags of the chicklit books I am doomed to design (::envision the Barbarienne chained to a Macintosh while devils dance behind her::) are what I would call "unlikeable." They are self-centered, boring, and helpless, and generally I would describe them as "annoying twits." They get into mishaps because of their impractical shoes. They are people who if I met them in real life I would have to make fun of them, if I took notice of them at all.

(The Shoes are a key marker. If a book mentions Jimmy Choo or Manolo Blahnik by page three, the protagonist is almost guaranteed to be an annoying twit.)

Now, presumably lots of other people do not share my opinion about these sort of characters, since these books continue to sell. Those people would probably not like to read about tough, ass-kicking women who aren't at all concerned with their shoes except insofar as they allow them to kick ass better. (Oooh, I love me them steel toes.)

Now, here's the interesting bit. It seems to me that the characters I consider "unlikeable" by my above definition are...self-indulgent! That is, they are characters unable to think past the end of their own noses, and the reader is expected to find this somehow charming.

This is distinct from the thoroughly selfish evil bad guy character. The unlikeable protagonists in chicklit (and yes, in SF or F or litfic or whatever genre) are presented with an apparent assumption by the author that the reader will automatically identify with the character. Why the reader is assumed to identify probably varies from book to book and author to author, but when it is too askew, the reader finds the character boring and annoying to read about, i.e. "unlikeable."

[kristine-smith.livejournal.com]

I think to her "unlikeable" means the kind of characters that she finds annoying to read about.

Then unlikeability, like so many things, means different things to different people.

Now, here's the interesting bit. It seems to me that the characters I consider "unlikeable" by my above definition are...self-indulgent!

Gah! There's that term again.

Was it someone on your list who posted the the act of writing is self-indulgent because of the arrogance inherent in believing that anyone would be interested in reading something (s)he wrote?

[torrilin.livejournal.com]

If the author is mentioning Jimmy Choo or Manolo Blahnik, chances are they're getting the high fashion *wrong*. They're generally writing about their fantasy of what life is like if you have the money to wear high fashion clothes... and while it might be a nice fantasy, it's usually nothing like reality. The reality isn't very "nice" tho and doesn't fit the conventions of chick-lit, so they're sort of stuck.

A lot of chick-lit is like that tho. A historical romance can't talk of the reality that most people didn't bathe in the Middle Ages. When they talk about what people eat at Court, they get it wrong. When they discuss clothes, they'll have the heroine wearing the wrong kind of underwear, or bitching about a pinching corset in Regency England. Ooops. Not all chick-lit authors make egregious errors, but it is not at all uncommon.

So a lot of the unlikeable *there* is that the author doesn't understand that her chosen genre's conventions are in direct conflict with reality. So rather than dealing with that conflict knowingly, she ignores it. Ignoring the biggest conflict in the book means that she is reduced to just addressing the conflict that she dreamed up... and often that is *also* affected by the fact that genre conventions and reality don't match up. You end up with a much weaker book when the author doesn't address the disconnect between reality and genre conventions, just like an SF novel where the author has characters travelling between solar systems is weakened if the author makes it clear they don't understand that relativity might affect the plot.

The fact that the heroine is too stupid to live is a side effect.

[rolanni.livejournal.com]

The term I tend to take exception to is 'unlikeability', perhaps because my protag is considered by some to possess that trait.

I'm thinking that, "unlikeability" is what "unsympathetic" is at the end of the game of Telephone.

After all, we're all taught that protagonists ought to be "sympathetic", which is not at all the same as "likeable." A sympathetic character resonates in some way with the reader, but is not necessarily someone the reader wants to have over for dinner. This particular nuance, however, has gotten lost -- or at least muddled. Sorta like the folks who'll complain that "the author's voice is not transparent" -- when pointing at the character's dialog.

[kristine-smith.livejournal.com]

It all gets reinterpreted all over the place, because I've lost track of the number of times I've heard "the character wasn't sympathetic" as in "I didn't like the character enough to care about the pain they were experiencing." "Didn't like" as in "wouldn't have in my house if they paid rent and cleaned the bathroom."

I wonder if it's genre-related, because I see much more leeway given to mystery/thriller protags with regard sympathetic/unsympathetic. Or maybe it's just the books I read.

[torrilin.livejournal.com]

Jani isn't very likable. That's ok, you're not asking the readers to marry her and love her forever. She can be (depending on the reader) a very sympathetic character. She's got real problems, she's trapped in situations that are stressful and scary, and rather than giving up, she keeps fighting. Some readers don't want to read about a psychopathic killer geek tho, and for them, Jani's personality might be abrasive enough that they can't connect with the book.

Sympathetic is probably the wrong word in a lot of ways, at least for me. When I read, I need something in the book (usually a character) that I can empathize with enough to want to keep reading. Empathy tends to be seen as "share feelings" and the ability to put yourself in another's place and sympathy tends to be more share feelings and feel vaguely sorry for. The extra bit of insulation that comes from sympathy's overtones tends to feel a bit off. I don't feel much sympathy for Jani. If I did, it'd make *her* feel bad and she'd bristle and be offended. I do empathize with her. I wouldn't want to go through the things she's been through myself, and I can see how they affect her choices. I wouldn't always choose the path she chooses, but I can usually see why she makes the decisions she does.

The problem for me is when I can't relate to a character that way. Maybe the character is a guy, and the author isn't leaving enough crumbs for me as a woman to understand why he does what he does. Maybe the character is acting in a way that I see as too stupid to live, and I'm not able to get past that. Maybe I'm just not in the right mental space for the book... for a long time I couldn't read Jane Austen because I wasn't in the right space for it. Then this winter, all of a sudden her books *worked* for me... the books hadn't changed. I had.

It's not an easy issue.

[kristine-smith.livejournal.com]

Jani isn't very likable.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*devastation* (glyph of author drifting downstream a la Ophelia, surrounded by scattered blooms)

"psychopathic killer geek"?

Ok, I need someone to letter an icon for me.

But seriously.

I think I agree with your definitions of sympathy and empathy. There are books, such as the Inspector Rebus books by Ian Rankin, that I quite enjoy without feeling much sympathy for any of the characters. I do feel empathy, though--Rankin does such a thoroughly excellent job of portraying office politics and the almost corporate mentality displayed in those moving up in the Edinburgh police that I cringe at every fuck-up and imagine pummeling every brown-noser. Call it worldbuilding of sorts. He also nails character. Harkening back to the which-writer-cards-were-you-dealt discussions on matociquala's and sartorias' blogs, I think those were the cards Rankin was dealt.

And I agree that Jani would not accept sympathy graciously.