Sympathy for the Hero

Many books establish reader sympathy for the tortured hero early in the book. Reader sympathy allows a secret and somewhat omniscient understanding of what appears to other characters to be aloof, arrogant or even cruel behavior. If the reader didn’t know the hero has a tortured, miserable past, or a turning point in his life that changed his character, he’d seem more like a shit and less like a hero.

In Lord of Scoundrels, Loretta Chase establishes from the earliest pages Dain’s miserable childhood, and his feelings of distrust, abandonment, and shame. He does not fit, he does not look like any of his peers, and he’s picked on – until he grows up a little taller and tougher than everyone, and those same bullies turn to seek his admiration and approval. Dain is baffled, but because he’s not stupid, he uses this turnabout to his advantage. Yet when he meets Jessica and has the sense that someone has shoved his head in a privy, the reader knows why and how that recollection is so powerful, painful and alienating for him.

Book CoverSimilarly, in The Duke and I, Quinn also establishes Simon’s misery as a child so that the reader carries that memory forward into the present time of the story, aware along with Simon of how isolating and miserable he often feels in social situations, and most notably when confronted by his father in public.

…no one had the ability to crush his confidence like his father, and as he stared at the duke, who might as well have been a mirror image, albeit slightly older version, of himself, he couldn’t move, couldn’t even try to speak.

His tongue felt thick, his mouth felt odd, and it almost seemed as if his stutters had spread from his mouth to his body, for he suddenly didn’t even feel right in his own skin.

Simon also has Dain’s experience of being outside the fold of popular children, though not as harassed as Dain was, and then finding himself admired and the subject of attention for rather positive reasons.

In both cases, the reader is aware that the hero possesses a core of some hurt innocence that might, and could (and will because He’s the Hero), translate to honor and a desire to do the right thing, even if the right thing was not done by him in his past. Quinn particularly often allows the reader into the secret of the hero’s backstory, establishing him as a sympathetic character early on.

Whether it’s paternal or maternal cruelty, and both abound in romance, or a terrible event that still hurts, the technique of damaging the hero early on works in small doses, too, but I have to say, I prefer that the hero’s drama and damage are revealed early instead of later. Revealing at the end the hurt that lurks in the hero’s past and influences his action through the story can damage my impression of the story overall. I lose sight of the happily-ever-after because I finally understand what was torturing the hero at the end, and the negative too often overshadows the positive.

Book CoverFor example, and I won’t get into details because of the spoiler-y nature of the reveal, I don’t look back on “The Secret Passion of Simon Blackwell” with happiness. I see the book or think about it and am more sad than happy. I don’t even remember the heroine, to be honest – I remember the heartbreak the hero reveals toward the end, and it overshadowed the happy part of the ending to the point where I barely recall it. (I had a similar problem with the heroine of Victoria Dahl’s historical A Rake’s Guide to Pleasure, in which the heroine’s drama was revealed towards the end and fractured the story for me at that point).

Anna Campbell played with the drama and damage of the hero in her controversial novel “Claiming the Courtesan.” The hero had some major damage in his psyche, and the role of that drama in influencing his actions toward the heroine has been tricky for readers. Was he lacking in self control and a weak hero, or did his past serve as enough reason to understand and forgive his actions toward the heroine?

While revealing the emotional hurt that haunts and influences the hero in the early part of the story can easily be over-served with too big of a spoon and way too much pathos, I love the early and initial peek into the hero’s backstory, particularly when at the end, only the heroine and I know why the hero is the way he is. Revealing the drama and enduring hurt that influences the hero’s actions too late into the story means that I as the reader have to grapple with my knowledge and feelings about the event in question and get over them as the hero does in time for the happy ending to be believable.

What about you: do you like the early insight into the hero’s tortured past, or do you prefer a mystery to be revealed later? What stories of heroic hurt still haunt you?

 

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  1. bookstorecat says:

    One of my all time favorite Regency books is Carla Kelly’s Reforming Lord Ragsdale. I think what makes it stand out—besides good writing—is that both main characters have survived some horrible stuff. She’s an Irish indentured servant because of terrible things that happened to her family. He’s a British Lord who fought the Irish and lost both his eye and his father in battle. It’s a match made only in Romancelandia—except Kelly makes it feel plausible. Her characters are flawed but likeable, and the story is funny, not maudlin. And nobody despondently roams the moors, raging against Fate or whatever. I was glad to see lots of people like it as much as me on Amazon, but it’s not out yet in ebook:(

  2. LG says:

    @JaneDrew – Ok, so what’s the book with the nice Hero with a Tortured Past? I am intrigued.

  3. LG says:

    @cbackson – E-hurl! I like that word. 🙂 But I think what an e-reader needs to do in that case is make some kind of explosion sound when you do an e-hurl (with an option for regular, non-explosion deletion, for books you are just deleting without annoyance or rage). Otherwise, e-hurling is just not as satisfying as hurling.

  4. bookstorecat says:

    @JaneDrew—Like LG said: who’s Mr. Nice Guy?

  5. Elemental says:

    I’m in the “halfway” camp, I like the slow reveal and unfolding of someone’s background that allows for mystery, but doesn’t feel tacked on. I also find I like it more when the healing is two-sided, when it’s not just the non-angsty character healing the brooding one with her boundless tolerance and forgiveness, but when the hero is at least partially aware he’s a messed-up person and because of her influence and events in the story is trying to change himself.

    I also like it when there isn’t an automatic link between “bad stuff in past” and “being a jerk”. I’m thinking of a couple of Suzanne Brockmann characters, where they don’t sit around all day brooding about the bad stuff in their past or behave like jerks, but it does affect them and make them less happy, in ways they’re often not entirely conscious of. Or as mentioned above, when the character becomes kinder and self-sacrificing (because nobody else should suffer like they did) but uncomfortable with getting close to others and wracked by self-doubt about their own worth. There are a whole spectrum of possible reactions to trauma, many of them more subtle and interesting than “Raving asshole.”.

  6. cbackson says:

    @LG:  Or maybe a kaPOW! sound, like in old-school Batman?

  7. Maggie says:

    I love this discussion!

    And only have one small point to add – for me, its never really been about the point in the story where the cause of the hero’s (or heroine’s) tortured soul is revealed.  (Although I do agree with a lot of the above points that it can dimish the HEA and, if not properly foreshadowed, can totally ruin the end of the story with a literary WTF.)

    No, my issue is that some authors, in the maybe good-intentioned hope of writing a seriously “damaged” hero reveal his past “torture” to be sexual or serious physical abuse.  This bothers me for one huge overwhelming reason:  The love of a good woman (or man) is soooooooo unlikely to “heal” someone with such a past.  At least, not by itself. 

    HEAs are incredibly wonderfully fantastic.  But they are not therapy, the heroine, brilliant as she is, is not a health-care professional (even if she is, she shouldn’t be treating her partner.)  And particularly frustrating, the overwhelming trend in such books is that the heroine’s mere existence is therapy enough.  FAIL.

    I find such past “torture” to be manipulative if used by a writer.  By ascribing the absolute worst form of abuse to a hero, the author can easily elicit sympathy from the reader, but also allow her/himself carte blanche in writing the hero’s deplorable behaviour.  However, this type of story line is often very neatly wrapped up by, as mentioned above, nothing more than the heroine’s love and understanding and support.

    Sorry, as someone who has worked with serious abuse cases, I cannot suspend my disbelief.

  8. JamiSings says:

    @kkw – I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s at least semi-burnt out on tortured heroes. Really, that one about Archeron was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Now I find myself unable to enjoy tortured heroes in other books. I want one with a “meh” childhood, please!

    @Maggie – You put it better than me. When the author goes on and on about how the hero was brutally raped and even sold into sexual slavery by the adults in their lives, all I can think is “Why is he the hero and not a totally wacked out drug addicted serial killer?” While I’ve known people IRL who endured horrible abuse and turned out to be good people – most of them had some sort of help. A lot of them had family that helped them out. And therapists on top of that. Some also had religious leaders and members of their church who lent a lot of help, healing, and support. While the heroes in the books never seek out help or even reveal what happened to them to anyone but the heroine. It’s not healthy and it’s not realistic.

  9. @Maggie One of the many things I loved about Inez Kelley’s Sweet as Sin was that the hero sought out therapy and began meds during the course of the book. Meeting the heroine and the feelings she evokes in him makes him realize that he needs help to overcome his demons. I also appreciated that the love of the heroine didn’t make everything okay. The HEA didn’t solve all his problems and come with rainbows and unicorns. Yet at the same time, the HEA is complete and even more satisfying because it’s not wrapped up with a neat little bow. Ms. Kelley treats his previous abuse and his coping mechanisms in a very real way. In fact, she has a follow-up story on her website that shows the characters two years later, and while the hero is better, he’s still facing the issues of his past.

  10. JaneDrew says:

    @LG and @bookstorecat:

    Sorry for the delay in responding; was on the road all day.

    The hero in question is actually from a manga series, not from a “traditional” romance novel. But, he’s absolutely one of my favorite characters, and I love the emotional aspects of the story (even though it’s not a “romance” manga, strictly speaking—yes, there are specific romance subgenres in manga; this one is technically in a different subgenre, but the romance is a key part). The manga is called “Rurouni Kenshin” (“Rurouni” is a kind of made-up word for “Wandering Swordsman”) and the title character is Kenshin Himura (or “Himura Kenshin,” if you’re writing it in Japanese style). It’s set in Meiji-era Japan, in 1878. Might well be at a library; it’s very, very popular; Viz also just recently finished releasing a set of multi-volume, oversized editions (each has three of the “normal” volumes), which also have lots of lovely color pages and bonus features.

  11. LG says:

    @JaneDrew – Lol, I’m a huge manga fan, and I’ve read all of Rurouni Kenshin, but I didn’t even guess that was who you were talking about. For once I think my mind was fully on book rather than at least partially on manga.

    Yes, Kenshin is wonderful. I always loved it whenever someone noticed that what they mistook for klutziness or goofiness on his part was actually his way of protecting or helping someone without being obvious about it.

  12. JaneDrew says:

    Yay! So glad to run into another Kenshin fan over here.

  13. Lu says:

    sigh, the internet ate my first attempt.  let me begin by saying that this blog gets some wonderful discussions going!

    To try again (and probably shorter)

    I need to see signs early on that the character is A) damaged, coping poorly and worth salvaging or B) a villain and therefore okay if we dislike.

    I like to see at least hints about the cause and nature of the damage, even if we only learn the details slowly.  This helps me to understand that we are supposed to feel that this person is worth reading about.  Because I have too many other things that I could be reading to slog through a book with a group of unlikable characters acting like idiots – I can move to something else to read.

    Depending on the author and storyline, it can work well to only reveal the source and effects of the damage slowly tot he readers and other characters, or it may work better for the readers to learn more details much faster than or perhaps even more than the other characters ever learn.

    Knowing what his/her damage is can show us that s/he means well but is currently having trust/confidence issues rather than just saying that s/he’s a jerk.  Or maybe their issues mean that they aren’t certain HOW to have a good, healthy relationship.

    I personally like it if the Revelation of Issues – which may or my not include the Confession of Issues to the Love Interest comes early enough in the book that they can try to address those rather than ‘I confess, I’m a jerk because____ happened, but I think I love you – oh, I love you too!’ there’ now it’s all better – let there be happiness and optional babies.  I also prefer when the damage and issues are appropriate and proportional for the cause of the issues.

    hmmm, last time the real-person word was section66 – as in, we could make a section of 66 ways NOt to show damage and issues.  This time it’s power87 – as in, there are 87 powers given Romance-characters to solve issues?

  14. Diana says:

    @Sally:

    she’s as wet as a haddock’s bathing suit

    Hahaha!  I’m picturing the haddock wearing one of those old lady bathing suits with the ruffles on the bum.  I’ve got to work this saying into my daily conversations.

    <3

    @ Elemental:

    There are a whole spectrum of possible reactions to trauma, many of them more subtle and interesting than “Raving asshole.”.

    Word to your entire post.  So very, very true.  It would be great if more romance novelists would try to pull this off, rather than resorting to lazy shorthand to provide the book’s conflict.  Because that’s kind of what it feels like for me—when the hero is being a repeat-offender jerk to the heroine, without any provocation other than him reacting to bad past experiences…  It often feels lazy.  Like the author isn’t skilled enough to create a real, organic conflict in the novel and has to rely on an outdated trope to sustain the reader’s interest. 

    I do think that the whole tortured hero thing is very attractive, though.  I *love* it like burning, but it has to be done well.  The alphaholes who are vicious to the heroine because of that one woman who broke their poor, fragile hearts twenty years ago and now they think all women are materialistic whores?  Like, grow up!  😉  Heroes who attempt to overcome their horrible pasts, though, YUM.  They don’t have to succeed right away, but give me some honest trying (and a reveal of his past early in the book, so I can understand him).  Anything else, unless the author is very, very skilled, seems like something out of the 70s or 80s.  Outdated and eye-rolly.

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