The reader’s Amazon comment or direct email that asks: “Did the author / you intend to make everyone in this novel so disagreeable?” is an interesting one.
Most novels have at least one likeable lead character and one unlikeable person. A Goodie and a Baddie to spark against each other. And in most novels it's obvious which is which. The hero, usually, is the Goodie, his counterpart is the Baddie. In old westerns it was always easy to tell the difference (even in black and white movies) because the Good Guy wore the white Stetson, the Bad Guy had the black one.
Characters in novels reflect real life (usually) so we need Good Guys and Bad Guys to make a story believable, although in real life most people are not entirely one or the other; most of us have bits of both within us. There are exceptions: I would count Mother Teresa as a Good Guy (girl?) and there are plenty of names I could suggest as Bad Guys. (I'll leave you to fill in the blanks, depending on your political leanings.)
Several years ago now, I had just such an email relating to my novel The Forever Queen (titled A Hollow Crown in the UK.) The US edition became a USA Today Best Seller, and is still doing well all these years later. It is the story of Emma of Normandy, married at a young age (probably between 12 - 16) to Æthelred (the Unready) in 1002, and then to Cnut of Denmark, becoming Queen of England twice, and mother of two kings, Edward the Confessor and Harthacnut.
It was a difficult novel to write, for one thing I had already written its sequel, Harold the King (UK title) / I Am The Chosen King (US title). I would not recommend writing novels in this reverse order! For another thing, back then in 2001, my best friend had unexpectedly died, and I found it so hard to get my head round starting such an epic tome.
The comment sparked a very good-natured discussion between the sender and myself. This person made a few good points, not all of which I agreed with for the novel is historical fiction, based on the few known facts blended with my intuition and a good dollop of interpretation and 'make-it-up'. Primarily, we write fiction, not history – sticking to the facts, however, will be another theme for another day: in this instance I'm talking about the characters, and how we portray them.
Writing 'Emma' (to use something easy for the novel, rather than the two different titles) took a lot of effort to keep the story straight and the characters coordinated. In a nutshell, Emma was fighting for her own survival, not England’s. She wanted the power the position of Queen gave her. I doubt she gave two hoots for the people she was Queen over. But did any of the Kings (and Queens) of that time put the people first, I wonder? (And the same can, alas, be applied to too many world leaders of today.)
My sole intention with 'Emma' was to explore why she and her firstborn son, Edward (the Confessor), so apparently loathed each other. And why she also, apparently, just as much disliked Æthelred, her first husband. Then in part two, why she seemed to be content – even in love – with Cnut? Annoyingly, the written histories of the past do not mention these things. (Very frustrating for modern-day authors!) Although Emma's own autobiography (The Encomium Emmae Reginae, written c.1041) is remarkable by obliterating several facts, one being the total absence of any mention of her husband, Æthelred.
So, apart from sticking to the facts of what we know happened, I wanted to explore why they happened, which meant looking closely at what made those characters 'tick'. And mostly, they turned out to be disagreeable people.
The person writing to me said: "It was impossible for me to establish any kind of empathy with her [Emma]. I don’t understand a woman who doesn’t love her own children, and her greatness seemed to consist solely of underhanded manipulation of all at her disposal."
Which rather missed the point of history as it did happen. Nearly all the kings of the past 'manipulated', one way or another, as did several queens or dowager queens, or favourite mistresses.
The commenter went on to say: "I am curious to know if it was your aim to present everyone in their worst light."
My answer went something like this:
"This is English history, and historical fiction is supposed to follow the facts as much as possible, and unfortunately, this period is... disagreeable! I needed to explore how Emma managed to cling on to her crown: women did not have rights, not even queens. The only way she could keep her power was to be as strong and as manipulative as everyone else. (The men!)"
Edward hated his mother. This is fact. Was it because she abandoned her two sons to many years of exile in Normandy? But was that abandonment to save their lives – or to retain her position as Queen? It is also fact that she preferred her later-born son, Harthacnut, sired by Cnut. Why?
And why is it so unacceptable for a woman to not like her own child? It is a sad thing, but many don't, even today, and I would assume because of the difficulties of pregnancy and childbirth, many a woman in the past resented the children they were forced to give birth to.
Cnut himself was not always a pleasant man, although he became a respected king. And as for Æthelred...
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| Cnut |
I ended my response with: "I’m sorry, but I can’t change the reality of history."
To my surprise, I received an answer:
"Perhaps to say I disliked the book is too strong. I was unsettled by it. I think the reason it bothered me so much was because it wasn’t blunted by fiction. Your book was historical fact fleshed out with fiction, not fiction fleshed out with fact. I think it confused me how I was supposed to feel about the characters. I couldn’t identify with them. I had a hard time identifying with Emma as a heroine when I didn’t like her as a woman. I suppose I’m too used to reading fables and myths where the complexities of human nature can be neatly set aside for the archetypical heroes and villains."
The sender's final word thoroughly cheered me: "I just wanted to say that my discomfiture was not your failing. I wished I had half your writing talent and dedication to produce such a complex novel!"
So, historical fiction is fiction, much of it is made up because we don’t know the facts, but what facts we do know should be used with integrity. Maybe readers are not meant to like some of the people from the past? I detest Duke William of Normandy, for instance, nor can I have any empathy whatsoever with Henry VIII, even given the historical context of the machinations by his advisors in order to curry favour, and his desperation to sire a living son. (I've always found it ironic that one of our (arguably) greatest queens of the past was his daughter.) And look at Richard III, the diversity there in actual history and fiction!
With Emma, and such characters, do you have to like a person to read about what happened in the past? If so, there would be very few Tudor novels... Or do people read this period to understand what happened and why? Or to sympathise with those poor women – although to be fair, several of them were just as manipulative in their own way. Their plotting and planning backfired, that's all.
Edward the Confessor was badly treated by his mother, but he treated others as badly when he was king, and he was useless at the job, which was another reason why I wanted to write this novel, to explore why he was so useless.
Emma? I admire her. I think she was courageous and resilient to survive as she did. But do I like her? Hmm, probably not.
Perhaps, though, more important than the question, 'Do characters need to be likeable?' is this question: "Has this novel set you thinking? Will you remember the characters and the historical context that they were set in?"
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