I’m probably not going to touch on a lot of non-fiction, but
this time I am because it serves to teach a lesson. Great Captains Unveiled by B. H. Liddell Hart is ostensibly a work of military science
meant to teach lessons through the lens of historical fact. I’m not going to
say it doesn’t do that, necessarily, but in doing so it bestows a nearly deific
status on the leaders it touches on. It’s simply bad history.
“But Gabriel,” you say, a sense of indignant disinterest
rising in your breast, “who gives a fuck?” That’s an excellent question Reader
Who Lives in my Head! To my eye, this should stick out as a very, very bad idea
that will take your reader out of the work. However, my eye is clearly wrong because some of the most popular
works of fiction do precisely this: See Dune, which did this at least once per
book, creating the sort of epic power creep normally associated with horribly-run
tabletop gaming, or the vast majority of anime (Yes I’ve been known to partake.
Don’t judge.). Even something like Bones or Rambo has this same sort of
inhumanly capable character that makes any real, plausible character seem
quaint and tawdry. Truth be told, a really solid portion of Hollywood films,
all the way from The One and The Matrix to A Beautiful Mind and Good Will Hunting
employ this exact same trope of the impossibly awesome character. (No, don’t
link me to the TVTropes name for that. Don’t do it. TVTropes is made by the
devil to undermine all that’s enjoyable in the world.)
What does this demonstrate? It demonstrates that there is a
willingness in the reader/viewer to accept characters which verge on deus ex
machina personified, provided they can put themselves into the shoes of the
character, or at least into the shoes of the character’s love interest or bff.
Ask yourself why there is a pseudo-‘normal’ opposite-sex companion to every
Dune Ubermensch. It’s not because there needs to be a crowbarred-in romance
subplot, though that doesn’t hurt; it’s because people are willing to accept any
level of absurdity so long as it’s their absurdity,
an absurdity they feel some ownership in.
To be clear, this is not a license to write terrible
characters. This is an observation on human nature. Don’t take advantage of
this any more than you would take candy from a baby simply because the baby
can’t fight back. Write good characters who aren’t irrationally capable, and
allow people to experience them at a level deeper than “I wish *I* could kill
everyone in the world with a single thought!”
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