The Lure of the Anti-hero
I’ve never much wanted to be
a hero. For me, Gatsby was always more interesting than Nick Carraway; in The Merchant of Venice it’s Shylock that
steals all the best speeches; and who in their right mind would want to be the
narrator, Jack, in Chuck Palaniuk’s Fight
Club when you could be Tyler Durden? Even in my school playground days
there was always a wrestle to be Han Solo. No one ever wanted to be Luke.
But
why is this? For me the great anti-heroes are not only more fun, they are also
more human. Intrinsically, the anti-hero is the hero ‘gone wrong’. They might be a central character but they
lack the heroic qualities you would expect: courage, altruism, and an all-round
(and irritating) goodness. Instead their moral compass has gone awry. They are
jealous, they lie, they spy, they are selfish and secretive, and say and think
and do things they shouldn’t; and sometimes they are remorseful about this, and
sometimes – well – they’re not. That’s because, like us all, they are complex.
Their journey through life has rarely been easy. They have often struggled and
fought and been hurt along the way and so they have evolved into survivors.
When we look at characters like Patricia Highsmith’s Tom Ripley we don’t
approve of his murders, his cheating, lying and stealing, but Highsmith
portrays him in such a rich way that we not only understand him, but even sympathise
with him. He commits terrible crimes again and again, and yet we still root for
him.
In The Dynamite
Room almost all my characters are flawed and, those that aren’t, are only
seen by the reader through the subjective memory of other characters. My two protagonists
are both anti-heroes. Heiden, a German soldier who has taken eleven-year Lydia
hostage, has committed almost every crime conceivable. He has killed not just
out of the necessity of war but also in cold blood for nothing more than his
own purpose. I deliberately wanted him to be morally ambiguous so that you
don’t ever know what he might do to Lydia. And yet, by allowing the reader into
his mind, we understand why he carries out the crimes he does. You might even
sympathise with him. Similarly Lydia may come across as an innocent victim yet
her actions are often far from heroic. Even when she realises the ramifications
of some of the things she has done and begins to feel remorse, it is only out
of a desperate attempt to save her own skin.
By taking the reader into their heads, we see the
fears that they hide from each other, their insecurities and weaknesses. We
understand why they act as they do, and hopefully we love them a little for
that. Why? Perhaps it’s because we see a bit of ourselves in them as well. We
may all want to be the hero, but – let’s be honest – in reality we are all far
more human than that.
Jason Hewitt’s debut novel, The Dynamite Room, is available in
Hardback and eBook, 27th March. Find out more here.
