The best fictional characters are neither all good nor all bad, but rather that complex mix of positive and negative that we all are. It takes a talented author to make us see all of the sides of a character, especially if that character is a basically unpleasant and unsympathetic person. But it’s an important goal because if characters are too uni-dimensional we lose interest in them. It’s really more interesting if even unpleasant characters have at least some positive quality.
Some of Agatha Christie’s novels include characters like that. For instance, in Lord Edgware Dies (AKA Thirteen at Dinner), Hercule Poirot and Captain Hastings investigate the stabbing murder of the 4th Baron Edgware. The most likely suspect is Edgware’s wife actress Jane Wilkinson. She wanted a divorce from her husband so she could marry the Duke of Merton and what’s more, she threatened her husband in front of witnesses. And on the night of the murder, someone looking exactly like her and giving her name to the butler was seen going to Edgware’s study. The only problem with that theory of the crime is that Jane Wilkinson claims she was at a dinner in another part of London at the time of the murder. Twelve people who also attended that dinner swear that she was there. So Poirot and Hastings have to look elsewhere for the murderer. The Duke of Merton’s mother, the Dowager Duchess of Merton, is terribly upset about the murder because now Jane Wilkinson is free to marry her son and she wants to prevent that at all costs. So she goes to Poirot to try to persuade him to prevent the marriage. The duchess is a very unpleasant person. She’s rude, autocratic, manipulative and a snob. Hastings refers to her as “a tartar” and he’s right. And yet she’s not entirely unsympathetic. Poirot points out that she is among other things a mother who cares about her son. Despite her unpleasantness, she has at least that one positive trait – something we can appreciate.
Caroline Graham’s A Ghost in the Machine features Mallory and Kate Lawson and their daughter Polly. When Mallory’s elderly cousin Carey dies, the Lawsons discover that they have inherited a fortune in money as well as Carey Lawson’s beautiful home in the village of Forbes Abbot. The only proviso is that Carey’s companion Benny Frayle must have a permanent home on the property, and Mallory and Kate are only too happy to comply. Not only is Benny a pleasant if eccentric person, but she’s also eager to help them fulfill their dream of starting an independent publishing outfit. Then the Lawsons’ financial advisor Dennis Brinkley is killed in what looks like a tragic accident with one of the medieval war machines he collected. But Benny Frayle doesn’t believe Brinkley died by accident. She is sure that he was murdered and tries, at first unsuccessfully, to get DCI Tom Barnaby and his team to look into the death. They finally do when there’s another, related death. One of the suspects is twenty-year-old Polly Lawson. She’s extremely bitter because her share of Carey Lawson’s estate doesn’t come to her until she’s twenty-one. Brinkley tried to explain that he couldn’t do anything about giving her the money and she refused to take “no” for an answer. Polly’s in many ways an unpleasant character. She’s spoiled, inconsiderate, too impulsive and disrespectful. There’s really not a lot to like about her. At the same time though, she’s very much in love with life; we can really appreciate her energy and vitality. We can also appreciate her sense of independence and her courage; she really doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her and in a way that adds to her power as a character.
And then there’s C.J. Box’s Cody Hoyt, whom we meet in Three Weeks to Say Goodbye. Hoyt is a Denver cop who has anger issues and other personal demons. He also drinks too much and is more willing than he ought to be to cut corners with police policy in order to “get his man.” He’s been in trouble more than once with the department and to be blunt, he “plays dirty.” When Hoyt’s friend Jack McGuane and Jack’s wife Melissa get the devastating news that they will have to surrender their adopted daughter Angelina to her biological father, Hoyt’s incensed. No-one can imagine at first why eighteen-year-old Garrett Moreland would want to assert his parental rights since up to now he’s shown absolutely no interest in his biological daughter. The McGuanes decide to do whatever it takes to keep Angelina even though it means they have to go up against powerful Judge John Moreland, Garrett Moreland’s father. Hoyt promises to help the McGuanes and that loyalty, despite the odd against his friends, is admirable. In some ways Cody Hoyt is an unpleasant character. But we can really appreciate his determination to keep Angelina McGuane safe and help his friends. We can also appreciate his straightforwardness and courage. Hoyt appears again by the way in Back of Beyond, in which he investigates the death of his friend and Alcoholics Anonymous mentor Hank Winters.
Elizabeth Spann Craig’s amateur sleuth Myrtle Clover is a retired teacher who now writes a column for the Bradley Bugle, which serves the small North Carolina town where she lives. One of the banes of Myrtle Clover’s existence is her next-door-neighbour Erma Sherman. Among other things Erma is meddlesome and nosey and can’t resist any opportunity to dictate her neighbour’s life. She even peeps through her window shades to check on Myrtle’s comings and goings. In fact, Myrtle finds her so annoying in so many ways that she takes every precaution she can to avoid Erma and it’s hard to blame her. Erma is, to put it bluntly, an annoying person. But she’s not completely awful. Despite the fact that she’s not very likeable we can respect that she really means well. She cares about her neighbour in her own way and she’s not malicious. She’s just…really annoying.
Sometimes even extremely unlikeable characters have something about them that keeps them from being “cardboard cutout bad guys.” Such a character is Y.A. Erskine’s Tasmania police commissioner Ron Chalmers whom we meet in The Brotherhood. Chalmers has a lot of thoroughly unpleasant characteristics. He’s a sexist and a racist, and doesn’t see why policing shouldn’t be done “the way we’ve always done it.” He’s alienated two of his three children and has no patience whatever with people he thinks are “too soft.” He can be extremely rude and he’s got a temper. In fact, most of the members of the police force dislike him intensely. And yet, he’s not so completely horrible that we can’t believe him as a real person. When Sergeant John White, one of Chalmers’ best men, is murdered at the scene of a burglary, Chalmers is as upset as anyone is. The most likely suspect in the murder is Darren Rowley, a part-Aboriginal teen who’s been in and out of trouble for years. Chalmers knows that the media will make much of this case since the suspect is part Aborigine and he’s tired of the police being painted as brutes when at the same time, as he sees it, hoodlums like Rowley are protected by the system. Chalmers’ views of non-Whites and the poor are repugnant to most people. They are part of what make him unpleasant. But we can appreciate the fact that one of his best cops has been murdered and there seems little public interest in bringing his killer to justice.
It’s not easy to make people want to read about characters such as Ron Chalmers. Some characters are just simply unpleasant people. But when an author gives an annoying or unlikeable character some human quality – something even a little positive – those characters are more realistic. Which unlikeable characters have you been able to accept because they’re at least a little human? If you’re a writer, how do you make your unpleasant characters palatable?
*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Smokey Robinson’s You’ve Really Got a Hold on Me.
It is hard to write about unpleasant people and make readers want to know more about them, or even to sympathise with them, I agree. The odious Backstrom in Leif Persson’s books is a policeman in point! He really is dreadful. But his colleagues still afford him institutional protection.
Harry Bosch has had a series of partners, many of whom he hasn’t liked much or at all. Sometimes that dislike is justified, sometimes Harry leaps to the wrong conclusion. I think these tensions work in the context of Connelly’s books, though.
In Shadow by Karin Altvegen, the dead Nobel laureate sounds like a pain in the neck, but a lot of people put up with him because he was a laureate.
Maxine – I love your examples! And with characters such as Persson’s Backstrom or Altvegen’s Axel Ragnerfeldt, one has to have a logical reason (I think you’re right that in Ragnerfeldt’s case it’s because of his status as a laureate) why anyone would have anything to do with such a person. Otherwise the character doesn’t seem at all real. Neither does the behaviour of any character who spends any time with the unpleasant character.
Thanks too for mentioning Harry Bosch’s partners, some of whom, as you say, he hasn’t liked at all. What I like about that scenario is that it shows Bosch’s character whether he’s right or wrong about the partner. It also shows Connelly’s skill at ratcheting up tension in a novel in a believable way.
Margot: Agent Yvette Nichol in the Armand Gamache series of Louise Penny is an annoying and unpleasant character. Still, as a reader learns her background, she becomes human if still unlikeable.
Your post has made me realize I remember characters I like alot better than those I dislike. Thanks for making me reflect on the characters of mysteries.
Bill – Now, that’s an interesting point. I’ll have to start thinking about whether or not I have a better memory for characters I like or for those I dislike. Thanks for the “food for thought.” And thanks for mentioning Vyette Nichol. She really is both annoying and unpleasant but as you say, she becomes more human as we learn her background.
This is such an important point to me. When you look at the people in your life, they are gray indeed. So should be characters in books. It’s a dull character that just inhabits space.
Patti – Oh, well-put! You’re so right that real people are neither all good nor all bad. I like it best when characters are that way too.
Eberhard Mock Marek Krajewski’s detective in his Breslau series set between the wars is an utterly obnoxious character, but the books are never boring. He isn’t all bad as he hates the Nazis and plays chess.
Norman – Agreed; Mock’s chess-playing is a definite redemptive quality.
– Of course so is his feeling about the Nazis. And you bring up something important; pace, timing, context, plot and the other elements of a story can also be used to make an unpleasant obnoxious character more palatable.
Margot-I made a similar point in my review of The Minotaur’s Head [book 4 in the Mock series] which Karen will post on Euro Crime in due course.
Norman – Oh, I am looking forward to your review!
I don’t remember too many obnoxious characters. I thought everyone in The Brotherhood was unsympathetic to one degree or another, but the book is well-written and worth reading. I would have liked one alternative viewpoint, due to the unrelenting bigotry and sexism, but one does not read for formulaic plots or the same old, same old. A new plot and a different mindset can be interesting. And one can disagree with the character and the writers and still get something from a book!
There are a few annoying police investigators in Martin Beck’s environment and he deals with them well. Also, Guido Brunetti has to deal with his superficial superior officer who doesn’t want to make waves, as he deals with a very annoying person in his station, Scarpa. I tend not to remember them, but to think of the likeable characters — and know that Brunetti and Vianello manage quite well to circumvent the obnoxious people they have to work with every day.
Kathy – Oh, I am so glad you mentioned both Giuseppe Patta and Scarpa. They are indeed obnoxious characters. Leon makes them just human enough so that we’re willing to read about them but yes, they are annoying. I’m also glad you mentioned the sometimes annoying investigators in Sjöwall and Wahlöö’s series, too. Martin Beck certainly does have to cop with them but as you say, he manages quite well.
And I couldn’t agree with you more that there are some books that just push one a little out of one’s “comfort zone” and for that reason alone are worth reading. Of course, being well-written helps too. The Brotherhood is definitely one of those books.
Definitely, and I’d add that The Precicipice as also a book that pushes one out of one’s “comfort zone” and is well-written, too — and worth reading.
Kathy – Oh, I think so to!