Morals in Literature

I consider myself to be a good, Catholic, woman (most of the time... there might be some slight, ahem!, road rage), and with that I try to make sure I uphold good morals in my life.  I’m polite, courteous, I try to be caring where I can be, I work hard, give to charity, and so forth.  So, writing characters who are absent of morals, who are so distant from what I aim for in my own life and consider myself to be, who lack the self-awareness to recognise any immorality, is a challenge for me.  One which, currently, I am not relishing. 

Writing evil characters is a difficult task to undertake; in my novel Revolting (under construction) I have several characters who need to be “bad” or “evil” without them being consciously aware of it.  I imagine writing evil characters who enjoy being evil is much easier.  There’s a balance which needs to be achieved; your reader must invest in the character with enough disdain, yet not be so offended by them that they stop reading your story. 

There’s a phrase I uses regularly in my daily life, “Just because you’re offended, doesn’t make you right,” and I’m trying to apply a paraphrase of this to the characters I’m writing, “Just because you think you’re good, and right, doesn’t mean you are.”  Because the characters I’m writing must be unaware they’re bad or evil, they need to think they’re acting in the best interests of the people they’re affecting, or the plot will not make sense and the book will simply fall apart.  The crux of my novel relies on these people’s paths crossing, each thinking they’re acting for the greater good (Hot Fuzz reference), thereby creating havoc and chaos, leading to dystopia.    

It is important to recognise that there are many reasons characters may be bad or evil.  To paraphrase Shakespeare (and yes, I realise he’d be spinning in his grave, never mind turning at this comparison), some are born evil, some achieve evilness, and some have evilness thrust upon 'em.  I believe this is true in life, not just in literature.  Some people, whom we may diagnose as psychopaths, are born that way and, because of the acts they commit, can be classed as evil because society has determined certain behaviours as intolerable – quite rightly!   Some people become evil because they’re inclined to the more negative ways of life, either through influence or aspiration; they get involved willingly in crime, perhaps as a rebellion against a system which displeases them.  And then there are others who are evil because circumstance drives them to it; they experience a perceived trauma and their reactions swerve towards the abhorrent and wicked in a perverse reaction. 

So, the question is: which of these is most appropriate to include in a plot?  That depends on what the genre is.  If you’re writing a thriller or a horror, then perhaps the first option is the one to be most effective for your character’s development; it’d be easier for a reader to hate a born killer, perhaps, to be more easily terrified by their actions if they’re unable to identify with them in any way.  The challenge would be to take one of the other types and write it so that the reader still disliked the character, and perhaps did not wish to seek any humanity in them. 

My challenge is to take on of the latter two options and write them so that the reader is not endeared to them, and does despise the decisions they make, whilst making sure that the decisions are incremental in the ripple effect which causes the larger, catastrophic choices in society, leading to the dystopian world of the future, rather than one large stone  being dropped into the metaphorical pond that is the text.  What I’m hoping my readers will take away from Revolting is that if we allow people with power and influence to make decisions with which we’re not entirely happy or comfortable, a dystopian future is our only destination.  However, I’m finding it increasingly difficult to do this because I’m so alien to the experience.

The next question then, after deciding which type of evil to create, is how to go about it.  How to create the subtlety needed to reflect the plot and the ignorance of the characters’ society?  How to add layers to the characters, without a single layer being one of redemption, or pure good, so no reader forgives them for their atrocities, so no reader accepts the ideas they have, so that no reader views the society as an acceptable way forward.  The novel, after all, is a dystopian warning of the dangers of “isms” and a futuristic glance at an imbalanced society if inequality continues.  And so for loathsome characters, so far, I’ve created: a research doctor who experiments on his children to prove his theories; a lech of a man – a bit of a Del-Boy character, only far less endearing – who gets his just desserts but leaves devastation in his wake; and, a group of people who believe they’re changing the nation for the better, yet cause irreparable consequences.  Whilst I’m comfortable with these, broad, ideas, writing each character without the same humanity as I might write others is proving difficult.  Is there a mantra to be followed, an inspirational quote to look towards as I’m doing this?  I’ve not found one yet.

I did consider whether to make the characters purely evil, and then add in a touch of humanity.  Whilst I think this may work for some, I do not think this would work for me.    

The best approach, I think, is to make the characters seem normal; outlandish characters, or unambiguously evil would be too noticeable, too obvious for the plot I’m hoping to create.  I’m a big fan of subtlety and nuance in literature; subtext should be a writer’s best friend.  Therefore, my characters need to be potentially realistic, for the negative qualities in them to be identifiable in people the reader might know, and dislike, in real life.  Transferable emotions are to be capitalised upon and exploited, to an extent, to ensure the reader is immersed as much as possible into the text.  I must make the characters not only believable, but familiar.  To do this, I must manipulate language in both the descriptions of the characters, and their dialogue.  The reader must be annoyed by their presence in the plot, dislike the mention of them, and never want to see them affect change in real life.  The lecherous character must reflect the cad in the reader’s office, or place of work who just won’t take no for an answer and is derogatory towards women; the research doctor must be a work-obsessive and driven man, unable to expand his scope of interest to anything outside his work and study. 

Equally, the good characters must be championed, using this same manipulation of language.  Structure, too, may play a part in this.  The reader not only needs to enjoy their time with these characters, be thrilled at finding out about them and getting to know them, but crave more of it; perhaps then, making the reader wait to spend time with these characters might help foster a feeling of longing and impatience for people they’d like to be friends with, if they were real.  Or, perhaps, they may aspire to be like them, seeing them as, perhaps to a limited extent, a positive role-model.  If the reader already has good morals, they’ll perhaps identify with some of their better, more endearing qualities.  Writing these into the subtext is equally as vital as writing the negative qualities into the evil characters.  Setting will also play its part; these characters need to be in an enjoyable setting, one which the reader must feel at ease with, perhaps familiar, yet not be too overwhelmed by. 

If I can juxtapose these two ideas, I might have a successful story to tell!

I hope some of this might come to fruition, and perhaps help anyone who’s in a similar situation and is struggling for ideas.

Until next time,

Louise.