I love pain. No, no, not like that. I’m this close to passing out when I so much as stub my toe. I love other people’s pain, at least if those people are fictional. Agony, torment, anguish, you name it, I’m there for it, as I realized when I looked at my keeper shelf recently.
To be fair, I love my share of lighthearted, sparkling Regencies, and I’ve enjoyed plenty of madcap contemporaries. But the books that have really grabbed me, right there, and twisted my heart into a limp little rag, are almost strictly historicals featuring men and women who are tortured in one way or another.
This seemed a bit troubling on first recognition. I’m a fairly lighthearted, cheerful sort myself, or at least I try to be. But it’s clear that traveling to the dark side of emotional torment with a well-drawn hero or heroine is something that, well … makes me happy.
And there are plenty of tortured characters out there, at least in historical romances. I’m talking about Rachel in Patricia Gaffney’s To Have and to Hold. Judith in Karen Ranney’s out-of-print classic, A Promise to Love. Rand in Christina Dodd’s Move Heaven and Earth. Simon in Julia Quinn’s The Duke and I. The inimitable Jamie Fraser in Outlander (at least after certain plot events). Lori Handeland’s alcoholic hero in her Rock Creek Six title, Nate. And of course, both Maddy and Jervaulx in Laura Kinsale’s beloved Flowers From the Storm.
A man who can’t walk. Two women scarred by abusive husbands. A man haunted by his father’s wrath. A man who endures humiliation and torture at the hands of a sadist. A woman torn between her faith and her growing love for a man of the world, and a man cut off from the world by a stroke that cripples his ability to speak. These are big problems, folks, and not pretty ones. (Although the only big and pretty problem I can think of is not having enough room in the closet for your diamond shoes.)
I’m not sure what it is that makes these stories so memorable for me – maybe it’s the fact that these characters need love so very much. Pain is isolating – whether it’s a moral dilemma such as Maddy faces, or nightmarish memories that can be held at bay only with alcohol, part of the problem for these characters is that they’re alone. Not physically in most cases, but emotionally, spiritually, deep-down-in-their-souls alone.
Think about the days after Jamie’s torture in Outlander. Talk about alone. Physically beaten and abused, emotionally humiliated and manipulated, everything he knew about being a man in that place and time called into question – Jamie truly believed he had no one to share that pain with. And To Have and to Hold’s Rachel – after all those years in prison, both in reality and in her mind, she’d built so many walls around her heart, it wasn’t clear at first if there was any Rachel left.
It’s not the actual torment that I enjoy, if I’m going to be precise about it. But conflicts like the ones listed above matter. They’re nothing that can be hand-waved away with a steamy kiss or a quick discussion. Kicking booze, wrestling with your faith, overcoming a handicap, healing the scars of abuse — these things take time and a hell of a lot of effort. And more often than not, because these characters are so alone, their wounds take the help of someone else to heal – someone who cares. Someone who’s going to prove just how powerful love can be.
That’s the satisfying part. It’s knowing that no matter how bleak life looked at the beginning of the book, no matter how endless and scary and black the torment is, the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel is there, maybe only a faint glow at first, but shining stronger and warmer the harder our character fights. If anybody earns their happily-ever-afters, it’s these characters, for sure.
Zany adventures are fun. Male-female battles of will even more so, especially when the couple is verbally up to the challenge. Give me a spooky paranormal any day. I’ll read them all, and enjoy them. But give me a character who is fighting for his or her life – the life of the heart and soul and spirit – and I know I’ve found a keeper.
Okay, time to share. Who are your favorite wounded characters? Any recommendations for contemporaries with a good tortured character or two? Or do you hate books that go to eleven on the torment meter?
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I love wounded characters when I love them. My favorite is probably Samuel from Kinsale’s The Shadow and the Star.
Totally out of genre (sf), but Jos from Karin Lowachee’s Warchild was a wonderfully done wounded protag.
As for contemporaries, one of the most moving books I read was Virginia Kantra’s Mad Dog and Annie, Annie trying to recover from an abusive marriage. Also Phoebe from SEP’s It Had To Be You and the characters in Anne Stuart’s Into the Fire.
Rochester from Jane Eyre, no question.
I love a wounded hero with lots of torment. There’s something wonderful about a seemingly all powerful hero with a vulnerability.
With you on Jamie, but in Outlander series, it’s both Lord John and Roger who’ve completely captured me, with respect to the tortured characters.
Jorie, I haven’t gotten to The Shadow and the Star yet, although it’s on my list. Love Kinsale.
And Rochester! Oh yes, mighty wounded. The granddaddy of all tortured heroes.
You’re right about Lord John and Roger, Barb — especially Lord John, in my case. I just want to hug him. Gabaldon is so talented. (Signed, Shameless Fangirl)
Totally with you on Jamie Fraser. I just wanted to hug all that pain away (trying to keep my comment G-rated
). Suzanne McMinn did some good torment in The Beast Within, too.
What I loved about Roger, especially, is how Claire suddenly sees he and Jamie, in Drums of Autumn, I think it is, as light and dark sides of the same image.
I think that was incredily evocative, especially given the circumstance under which she makes it, and then later, considering what happens to Roger in Fiery Cross. I think that puts him very much on the dark end of the scale in some ways.
And yes, much huggage on Lord John.
*shamelessly loving the Beta heroes*
I don’t seek out books with this type of hero but two that I have read recently come to mind, and both involve men (who like Jamie Frazier) have been sexually abused by another man: “Whispers of Heaven,” by Candice Proctor, and “The Champion,” by Elizabeth Chadwick. Neither of these books go into the details in the manner of Diana Gabaldon, both are related after the fact (and in the case of Proctor’s book the homosexual rape is only mentioned one time). Chadwick’s book involves the groping of a teenage boy by a monk, and like Gabaldon’s book Alexander’s abuse story is woven into the plot of the book. Since I haven’t finished “The Champion” yet I don’t know exactly how Chadwick is going bring the monk back into the picture, but I do expect that to happen.
Sigh. Great post, Amy. I write tortured heroines. And you’re right, their pain and suffering and walls can’t be knocked out with a kiss and conversation.
Among my favorite characters is Eve Dallas, the heroine in the JD Robb IN DEATH series. Roarke is also tortured, but Eve really resonates with me.
See, the funny thing is, I don’t *write* tortured people. Or at least I haven’t yet.
I love tortured heroes (and heroines!). For me, there’s something very comforting about a hero and heroine who come through the worst and are still able to live and love – it’s very inspiring. When I’m happy, I can read happy books, but when things are bad in my life, I need angst. It reminds me that even the most tortured hero can make it through and have a happy ending.
I agree with all the books recommended here, but here are a few that you might not know – The Keeper by Margot Early (HSR 668), Miss Dornton’s Hero by Elisabeth Fairchild (trad Regency), Reckless by Ruth Wind (SIM 796), The Top Gun’s Return by Kathleen Creighton (SIM 1262). And of course, just about anything by Mary Jo Putney – my favorite is Silk and Shadows – and many wonderful Balogh books – my favorite is The Temporary Wife. And a couple of tortured heroines – Change of Heart by Candice Hern (trad Regency) and Taming the Night by Paula Detmer Riggs. Ahh, there’s nothing like a good tortured hero.
Must add Brandon Carlyle from Katherine Sutcliffe’s Darkling, I Listen as a contemporary example.