Four weeks ago, I found myself rather unexpectedly in hospital. As is so often the case with these things, a quick, routine day surgery turned into a three hour extravaganza and when I came ’round following the anaesthetic, I was informed by my surgeon – with surprising relish – that I wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry. I paled. Bugger. Husband, please go get me something to read. Now!
He did well. He brought in a couple of TBR titles that had been sitting on my bookshelf and, determined to make good of a bad situation, I thought of how often I’d fantasised about being stuck just like this – in bed and with nothing to do but read, read, read until my eyes burst or maybe caught fire. Once visiting hours were over (and the painkillers had kicked in), I settled down as best I could and picked up the book closest to me. I think that the coma patient in the next room must have heard my groan.
Being confined to a catheter and crappy hospital bed (not to mention on a six bed ward with no bloody TV) meant that I couldn’t just up and change my mind about . . . well, about anything. Which was why, on the first Saturday night in hospital, I was stuck in bed with no visitors to rescue me from THAT book – the one I’d been putting off for almost as long as I’d owned it.
This particular title I’d started three times before, each attempt resulting in an exasperating deferral back to the bookshelf. From what I’d already read, it was beautifully written with the seemingly perfect balance of romance and real life for me to fall desperately in love with everything in that imaginary world . . . everything, that was, besides the heroine.
I. Didn’t. Like. Her.
As a romance reader, I engage in this particular genre because I like (need?) to escape. I like to live other lives, particularly if they’re full of love and lust and ludicrously gorgeous men. And as a rule, I’m not particularly fussy on who they are, where they live or what they do – as long as the essentials – did I mention the love, lust and ludicrously gorgeous men? – are intact, I like to think that I’m pretty easy to please. Turns out, I’ve found another essential to add to my scant list – if She’s not likeable, I’m not liking the book. Period.
That’s not to say that I don’t dig flaws. My own characters have their fair share, and I think it’s difficult to maintain any sense of realism if your leading cast could double as the robots from Stepford Wives. I certainly don’t deny myself a little escapism from time to time, and if that means becoming someone who lives five thousand miles away and being paid a salary with more noughts than a lottery win, then all the better (particularly if that someone has a sexy guy in the wings, too). That said, they still have to be likeable and tick all the boxes that, to my own fickle and exacting standards, I expect from friends in my non-fiction world. That means that spiteful and cruel narcissists are definitely out.
Of course, we’re all different, and we all have differing standards and priorities, but that heroine – whilst demonstrating a little growth at the story’s end – didn’t seem to learn enough for me to ever stop truly disliking her (and in the end I didn’t like him much either, fearing of his decidedly dodgy tastes in women). It resulted in a very lukewarm reading experience, but I think that what disappointed me most was that the author was undoubtedly talented with a strong voice and a satisfying storyline . . . but thanks to that two-dimensional and utterly unfriendly female role, I doubt I’ll ever pick up a book by that particular writer again.
And so begs the question . . . am I alone in this? Am I the only one who has been turned off a book by an unconvincing cast even though it promised so much? How important is it to you that you like your leading characters, even if you strictly can’t relate to them? And the final question mark of this essay . . . it is even possible to fall in love with a book when you can’t even find it in you to like the leading roles?
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Great post Vikki. The only heroines I’ve disliked have been weak, passive ones and/or TSTL. I don’t at all mind a bitchy heroine. I rather like them actually. It still seems to me that many romance writers are still using the romance guidelines from the ’70s. Anytime a writer deviates from the guidelines and creates an atypical hero or heroine is cause for celebration to me.
Vikki, would you mind sharing the title and author of the book? I’d like to check it out.
Yes, and yes, and yes again! I have to like or identify with my heroine in some way. I had a recent experience with a bitchy heroine–who had a revelation over the course of the book and became more likable by the end, but I STILL didn’t like her because of her words/actions in the beginning. It was a tough read; at one point I yelled at the hero: She’s not good enough for you! Go find someone NICER!!!
Interesting post!
Yep, bitchiness can be over-done.
Wish you could share just why you didn’t like her.And I agree, if you don’t like the heroine, you end up not liking the hero much either.
Bernita – I had drafted up more about her (and others) that I’d disliked, but the post was in danger of getting (more?) waffling and overrunning, so I took an editorial decision and took it all out! Essentially, though, she was just emotionally stunted (without any good back story to explain why) and treated the male appalling. I’m all for assertive, 21st C women, but in this particular case, it was far too excessive for me.
Barbara – yes, I completely agree – I have issues with wet and insipid female leads, too! I shan’t share the book title though – after my slating, I think it may be inappropriate – but I hope that you understand.
Elizabeth – it’s good to know that I’m not the only one who shouts at books!
V xx
I’ve read many comments about readers wanting to be able to relate to the characters. What does this mean?
I’ve liked all kinds of characters, but I don’t know if I’ve related to them.
Would someone please explain to me what it means to relate to a character?
Being able to relate to a character means there’s something about her we have in common. Like one of the stories I’m working on right now the heroine is very straightforward. She says exactly what’s on her mind.
She says everything I want to say, but am afraid to!:mrgreen:
It has definitely happened to me! I recently read a book (fantasy, not romance — so my expectations weren’t high to begin with) and at first she was just bitchy in that “you go, girl” way. By about half way through the book, I was hoping that she’d get sucked into the pit of Hell that was living in her basement. But then I’d have to feel sorry for Hell. In the end, she’s no nicer, but she has somehow gotten a very sweet boy to fall for her. Schmuck.
I don’t have to relate to the heroine but I have to be able to see the appeal for the hero. If she has no redeeming qualities, then its pretty difficult for anyone to love her.
Pet peeve…I think the word bitch should be eliminated from the English language. It denotes irrational emotion and is a put down referring to females (or gay men).
Is there a male equivalent (even though men can be as emotional and as irrational as women)? Nope.
The closest that I can think of is bastard. Not the same meaning at all. Bastard being often paired with cold hearted (and business bastards are respected, not dismissed – I am a business bastard and proud).
Whew…getting off my soapbox now.
Jackass. That’s the male equivilant, Kimber Chin. At least, it is in my book. I also don’t like ‘bitch.’
I don’t have to identify with the heroine, but I do have to not be constantly overwhelmed with the desire to smack her upside the head. I just put aside a book this weekend for this very reason. Reasonably well written, but an author I’ve met and like, but the heroine’s conflict/issue wasn’t deep, her ignorance was unbelievable, and she generally just irritated the crap out of me. I didn’t WANT her to have a HEA.
I have to like a heroine, but I think I’m actually broader in my tastes in heroines than I am with people in real life. In other words, I can love some heroines even though I know I probably would not get along with them in real life. Mostly I need to have a sense of them as whole characters, because for me, anyway, understanding a heroine often leads to a certain appreciation, which to me is how I would characterize the lower end of my likability scale.
I’ve read many comments about readers wanting to be able to relate to the characters. What does this mean?
I’ve liked all kinds of characters, but I don’t know if I’ve related to them.
I’m sure there are tons of answers to this question, but the one I’ve heard most often is that there are objective and subjective readers. Objective readers tend to stay outside the story and read from a more disinterested position (not uninterested, just more neutral), whereas subjective readers tend to view the book from one of more of the character’s POV’s, not necessarily inserting themselves into the book, just adopting a character perspective and reading from that POV. I am an objective reader, and when I see readers talking about how they have to “identify” with a heroine, I view that as a subjective reading view. I don’t think one type of reader is better than the other, but I do think each may get a different kind of experience from reading.
I need to like the heroine. I have to if the hero is supposed to fall in love with her. Strangely, I give the hero more leeway with being a bit of an ass if I really like the heroine.
I can go either way on this. I can continue to read a book about a heroine I’m not nuts about if the language and writing is well done. Or I can read a book with not so hot language if I am enjoying the story and the heroine. The best occurs whent he two coincided with a likeable heroine and good writing. If the writing stinks and the heroine is a stereotype and TSTL I’m more likely to hurl the book across the room into my “take it to the used bookstore and trade it in PLEASE!” pile.
“Jackass. That’s the male equivilant, Kimber Chin.”
That IS a good sub, Kimber An (doesn’t it feel sometimes like we’re talking to ourselves? Like those wacky people who refer to themselves in the third person. Kimber Chin is commenting now. See Kimber Chin comment.).
Unfortunately I already use Jackass as a term of endearment.
I don’t have to like a heroine to enjoy a book, but I do have to understand where she is coming from. If there isn’t sufficient information to explain why she is the way she is, then I won’t enjoy the story.
As for the question of what it means to relate to a character – I think it is a matter of believing the character is acting in a realistic manner given his/her personality and experiences. If a heroine is TSTL, I can’t relate to her as I’m thinking no real person would ever make such ridiculous choices. If a heroine makes decisions that I feel a real person might make (even if it wouldn’t be the decision I personally would make) then she is someone I feel I can relate to.
Thanks for all the explanations about relating to characters. No, I don’t have to relate to the characters to enjoy the story. I just have to be interested in them and as Robin said, understand them. I also like the example Robin gave of subjective and objective readers. I’m definitely an objective reader. I’ve loved some characters but I’ve never identified with one.
I don’t necessarily have to relate to her, or even like her, but she has to be interesting. One author always writes these amazing alpha males who go out and conquer the world and she pairs them with these insipid, clingy little things. I always find myself thinking that’s a set up for domestic violence.
The heroine also can’t be annoying. One book I recently wallbanged because by the third chapter I was literally ready to rip her throat out. I think some people get confused and think flawed and obnoxious are the same thing. It didn’t help that the book was written in first person. First person DOES NOT WORK with this type of heroine.
I have a hard time reading if I don’t like the hero or heroine. Even if she’s bitchy, she can still do something heroic or be generous. Anything to make her heroine material.
I don’t mind a heroine doing something a bit stupid *if* it’s in character – if she’s young and naive, or very stressed, or totally thrown out of their depth by some event. But supposedly intelligent heroines who have climbed the corporate ladder and have professional jobs but who behave *repeatedly* like nitwits – that makes a book a wall-banger for me.
It’s great to hear everyone else’s opinion on this – thanks so much to all the commenters for taking the time to contribute to this.
V xx
I have always put a book down if I don’t like the people in it.They have to be a bit realistic to be interesting.I have to like them or I don’t read any further.
Yes, absolutely, I have to like the leading characters. They don’t have to be good, but they do have to be sympathetic. Take the classic case in point of Silence of the Lambs. Hannibal Lecter is a homicidal maniac – yet, he was also sympathetic. So much so, that I woke in a cold sweat at 3 in the morning after watching the movie in a panic because I had come to sympathise with a dead-set nutcase. What did that say about me?
(I should say here that I have not read the book. I wasn’t game after the 3am experience. I thought it might confirm that I neede to be locked up. Possibly this reaction was partly the brilliance of Anthony Hopkins, but it must have been the writer as well.)
Now, if that writer can make a cannibal sympathetic, surely it is okay to ask as much from the writers of feel-good escapism? I think so. If the girl ain’t someone I would want as a friend, why would I spend my precious time reading her story. Give me flawed, but heart of gold every time.
IMHO! Imelda
And now that I’ve gone back and read the other comments, I need to add something else.
It seems to me that what I actually require is a well-drawn character. People need reasons for what they do and the way they are. The same behaviour can be irritating or moving, depending on how well you know what is behind it. Of course there will always be characters who just don’t work for us, no matter how well they are drawn, but generally, I think it is a craft issue – ditch those stereotypes and give us real people!
Imelda