1. In some of the fantasy that doesn’t seem to be working, I’ve seen three problems with the central character—she/he doesn’t have a specific goal, is nondescript, or whines.

    And by contrast, the best fantasy heroes who do work are those who:

    • Have a goal — optimally a realistic, sympathetic goal.
    • Have clear and robust and realistic personalities.
    • Don’t over-Angst for its own sake, but struggle for ends outside themselves.

    I believe the greatest virtue a character can “perform” for readers is the virtue of surprise. Potentially great stories have been forgotten, or should be forgotten, because they include no genuine surprises whatsoever. Whereas any justifiably popular story that has gained its position because of praiseworthy characters, plot, creativity, anything else — all of those can be traced to the virtue of true surprise.

    Recently I have abandoned one book about 30 percent through and picked up another chiefly because one set of characters — with the author behind them, of course — actually did surprise me. That helps earn my trust, and my readership.

    And it also means, to my surprise, I’ll likely forgive pretty much any other author sin, be it cheesy dialogue, head-hopping, slow spots, or even (gasp!) preachiness.

  2. Sherwood Smith says:

    I totally agree, though I have misgivings about Rowlings’ worldbuilding. The trappings are wonderful–the fake Latin, the nifty little spells, but my problem is the underlying worldbuilding doesn’t work. What is all that magic learning for? It certainly doesn’t fix any problems or make life better, for all its power–doesn’t cure cancer, keep babies from dying of SIDS, resolve the problems in Africa, etc. It seems entirely bent on training mages to fight each other, once they grow up and decide which “side” they are on (though a lot of that is determined by the sorting hat.)
     
    However, a nine year old reader doesn’t care. She’s reading for the fun, and she doesn’t notice that all the characters are one dimensional, that nobody ever really changes. Rowling was good with visuals, not with depth–no wonder the books translated so splendidly to movies.

    • The world works, I would suggest, because it’s a version of the mythology concept of faerie as a place. Rowling combined “ordinary” life, or that kind of life a few centuries ago, with the concept that some people in modern times are still born with fairy-like “wizarding” abilities. In that setting, they wouldn’t do much more than live ordinary lives, work, raise their families, and not have huge quests or life-changing events.

      … With the exception, of course, of when a bad Dark wizard goes beyond very bad.

  3. Bainespal says:

    Character is hard to criticize, maybe more so in fantasy than in other genres.  Some people say that all Robert Jordan’s characters in The Wheel of Time are the same pale stereotypes, while others uphold his writing as an example of strongly character driven fantasy.
     
    For my part, I somewhat disagree that the greatest strength of Harry Potter is the world.  I’ve read six of the seven books so far, and I think the series is strongly driven by constantly developing characters.  In fact, the characters are shaped by their relationship with the fantastic.  Were their ancestors part of this mysterious fantastic reality for many generations, or were they normal people born to normal parents who turned out to be of the fantastic nonetheless?  How do they respond to their fantastic environment at Hogwarts?  In contrast, I’m not very impressed with the setting of Harry Potter, because I prefer harder fantasy with stronger mythological elements and deeper meaning and coherence behind the magic.

    • Interesting thought–that the characters are shaped by their relationship to the fantastic. That certainly plays out in the live of both Harry and Tom Riddle as well as in the lives of the muggle-born Hermiony and the true bloods–Ron and Draco.

      But I still think all the magic incorporated with the familiar made the Harry Potter books what they are.

      Becky

  4. Galadriel says:

    I definitely think the characters are one of the most important elements.  Mostly in fanfiction, but even in original works, it’s really common have characters reduced to stereotypes who just fill stock roles. Another important aspect of character is consistency.
    I’ve been watching ABC’s Once Upon a Time, and the characters bug me a lot with inconsistent writing and behavior.  The other thing that is driving me crazy is the glossing over of the Evil Queen’s behavior–they give her way to much credit when she tries to “change,”

  5. I had the same problem with my previous draft–beta readers came back saying my hero was unlikeable. Thankfully, they also pointed to certain things the hero did, and I was able to fix them. He’s much more likeable now, I think.
     
    But then my other hero, in book 2, came in and took the stage by storm. He drives the story with his decisions and actions (for good or bad, although his decisions get worse as the stakes get higher–he doesn’t handle stress well).
     
    Lately I’ve stopped reading a couple of books in a row because I didn’t care about the characters. My personal yardstick is, “Does this character make me laugh?” If they’re witty or clever in any way, then I know the author can also make me slide the other way and yank my heartstrings. (Rebecca Minor’s next book is awesome. Just sayin’.)
     
    I’m chewing through Daughter of Smoke and Bone right now (all about completely non-Christian demons and angels and their perpetual war–and Prague), and it’s wonderful. But what makes it wonderful are the characters. They’re funny, they’re sad, they’re intriguing as heck.

    • Kessie, I like that yardstick of “does this character make me laugh?”  As a high-and-mighty teenager, I was intent on making every character incredibly weak and flawed, so as to avoid the label “Mary Sue.”  In the process, I ended up creating a lot of “reverse Mary Sues” who were ridiculously unlikeable or else had their heads stick up their own butts in misery so much that no one would possibly like being around them, except perhaps my angsty, teenaged self.

      Now I strive for that “humor measure” and I know I’ve hit it when  beta readers both laugh at a scene, and then a few paragraphs later are deeply empathizing (or even yelling at) my character.  And then want more, right away. 

      Would you recommend Daughter of Smoke and Bone?  The title and cover art are so pretty that I’ve been tempted to grab it up, but I’ve been burned by so many YA titles with pretty covers.

      One thing I would add to the list is conciseness.  I think this is the hardest to manage, because speculative fiction by its very nature lends to long-windedness.  And I love a good world-building epic as much as the next person–I read real world cultural profiles for the fun of it.  However, no matter how awesome the world, if the characters or plot are lackluster or annoying, then I’ll end up dropping the book, or else paging through for the description parts, and then dropping the book.  World building and description must serve character and story.  Otherwise, it’s just really awesome window dressing.

      • Their heads stuck up their own butts in misery, LOL! I’ve written a few of those!
         
        I’m only halfway through Smoke and Bone, and I’m enjoying it a lot so far. It’s fantasy angels and fantasy demons (chimerae), and there’s other worlds. Aside from Diana Wynne Jones, I don’t see a lot of authors taking our modern-day world, with airplanes and guns, and sticking in parallel worlds.
         
        (BTW, I recommend Diana Wynne Jones for great characters and compelling plots. She wrote Howl’s Moving Castle, for example. But my favorite books of hers are the Chrestomanci books, starting with the Lives of Christopher Chant, and the Merlin Conspiracy. She makes J.K. Rowling look like a hack.)

    • Thank goodness for beta readers and crit partners! I reworked my protag, too, and think I’ve made him someone readers care about. But I learned how hard it is, what a balancing act it is, to present a flawed person in a way that readers don’t despise him for his flaws.

      I think arrogance might be the hardest trait to deal with. An arrogant character, like an arrogant person, isn’t fun to be around. But does that mean we can never tackle the problem of arrogance in a novel?

      Balance, I think.

      Becky

  6. Lex Keating says:

    One element of good fantasy, that is alternately overlooked or scorned, is simplicity. A good story, one that we carry with us long after we’ve put the book down, is something that we can easily grasp. I’m not saying that fantasy is one-dimensional or that details aren’t important. Neither is true. But good fiction is in the “bones” of the story, not the details of freckle patterns or clothing choices. When a story is built with weak bones, poor joints, or a bad heart, no amount of pretty details will successfully hide the internal problems.
     
    When a story starts with something simple, the reader is free to emotionally engage. This creates empathy between the reader and the character (NOT between the reader and the writer), so the reader is willing to follow into the wardrobe, into the woods, into the night. The details of Narnia or Hogwarts or the Shire may be rich and well-conceived, but they are just details. But the readers of Harry Potter want to know more because Harry’s never seen this magical side of the world before and is soaking up these details. The reader easily believes Harry is learning, and learns alongside him. When the Pevensies are deposited with Professor Kirk, the reader can easily believe that some restless, worried children might identify with a world suppressed by a horrible dictator who had kept Christmas away for a hundred years. We are lured in more by simple, evocative bones of a story than details like the color of Lucy’s scarf or what Harry eats for breakfast. Those details make us believe we are in the story, but they don’t draw us further up and in. 
     
    But I do think that the need for good “bones” in a story is more transparent in fantasy, which is why it receives the most criticism. A lot of readers (and critiquers) seem to think that complexity is the mark of well-thought-out adult fiction. Nyeh. Not so much, especially in fantasy. The more a character, situation, or world must be explained, the less likely the reader is to believe it, much less get drawn in. The author comes more to the fore, and the characters of the story become secondary. Which leads to a mediocre story. Artificial limbs don’t look as natural as real ones, and when the reader becomes aware that the bones of the story are partly shored up by inorganic parts, most readers pull away a bit. And without that empathy, that shared connection between reader and character, the story looks much flatter.

    • Great observations, Lex. One of the things I particularly noticed as I reread the Harry Potter books was how Ms. Rowling used the details as part of the bones of her story. So in book one finding the characters in portraits can talk and move and even change frames becomes key to the blot in books 5 and 6 and 7. Same with the owls and port keys and so many other specifics of the world. Initially they might look like window dressing, but a capable writer will know how to put those details to use.

      Becky

       

What do you think?