There’s just something about the hero-against-the-world — and I’m not the only one who feels that way. I heard it discussed on SASF — Stories are Soul Food — to whom I owe the credit for this term, ‘hero-against-the-world.’ Immeadiately the ‘ooh, that could be an article’ light lit up inside my head.
Our culture loves heroes that are up against insurmountable odds — especially when everything seems to be against them. Characters like Jyn Erso, Rupert Greeves, and Kaladin Stormblessed. We’re drawn to heroes that take ridiculous amounts of punishment, so much that we think ‘surely this is it, this’ll break him,’ and yet he still gets up. It isn’t just our virtuous heroes who show this sort of persistence, but some of our antiheroes too — the Mandalorian and Dustfinger, both relentless in their goals, no matter how many bad guys, setbacks, and Mudhorns get in their way. There is just something fascinating about a character who has nothing left to lose, a character who loves something so much or has so much strength of will that he will give up everything to achieve his goal.
You’ve already heard me go on about Civil War. But the Captain America movies, unlike some other Marvel ones I could mention, feature good, strong storytelling with easily-traceable lines and plots, with well-done twists and great character conflict. Besides, our super-soldier hero is a prime example of the hero-against-the-world. From the get-go we see small, scrappy Steve Rogers, who has a big heart and a bit of a bold mouth, but lacks the requisite height and strength to make much of a difference. And then, even after he becomes tall and strong, he’s reduced to a performer, then frozen in ice, then has to adapt to a completely new life, then makes the decision to be the lone member of the Avengers unwilling to sign the Sokovia Accords, then abandons everything to warn and rescue Bucky and save the world from what he thinks to be the deadly possibility of more Hydra super soldiers — all of it with few to no friends to back him. This is even reflected in his classic line: ‘to the little guy.’ He’s an underdog.
Or take Kaladin — from the conflict with Roshone to the army to slavery to bridges to the army again to duels to assassination attempts to a Voidbringer apocalypse to personal demons to a seige in Urithiru and many losses along the way — Kaladin’s own men refuse to ever believe he’s dead and gone, because against all odds he always finds a way to claw back up out of the chasms. He was the sort of character who had me constantly at the edge of my seat — and it does credit to the author when he can genuinely work a situation so that it seems ridiculously hopeless, and yet find a solution through his indefatigable character.
The hero-against-the-world is practically the underlying thread of every Star Wars hero ever. It’s always a young man or woman struggling to get their feet under them in a world controlled by crime bosses, slavers, the Empire, or all three.
Now, why do we love the hero-against-the-world so much?
Because we can relate. Of course we’ve never had to take down the whole bloomin’ Death Star — but we’ve probably all had times where we hit a ridiculous, irrational sort of panic, the feeling that we’ve messed everything up and changed our life permanently. We’ve felt that everything and everyone is out to get us or felt like situations were hopeless. That’s what fiction does: it takes the familiar and makes it larger, more fantastic, and in so doing makes it somehow more relatable. It is the concept of the hero-against-the-world that pulls us in, not necessarily the situation and the specifics. We can insert our own experiences and feelings and thus bond with the character.
In the heroes-against-the-world, we also see a positive role model, of a character getting up again, fighting on, and succeeding, and it makes us hopeful, gives us encouragement to do the same in our own lives.
We know what it’s like to feel like Lucy Pevensie, to have no one believe us. And we see in her an example to keep on steadily anyway, to defend what we know to be the truth.
We know what it’s like to feel like Frodo Baggins, as if we’ve been given a responsibility that’s beyond us, that we’re in over our heads with, and wonder if someone small like us can really make that much of a difference. And in him we see that a very small, very sheltered hobbit can do a great deal indeed if they remain faithful to the end.
And if I haven’t already convinced you that you need at least some form of the hero-against-the-world in your book, consider the alternative. If your hero has it too easy, if they’re not up against intimidating odds, your readers won’t get invested. They’ll roll their eyes or they’ll rant to their friends about how obvious it was. Your character should not be some superpowered champion who can blast every villain out of the way with ease, nor should he somehow end up forgetting a useful skill he has to somehow make the climax more gripping. Should your hero have some skills? Absolutely. But you cannot, should not make things too easy for him.
Of course, not everything has to be against your hero, and frankly, it makes for a very depressing life for your hero if he has absolutely no one to support him. Nonetheless, it could be something interesting to try — though it is curious to note how the story structure in which the hero takes center stage, the hero’s journey or the circle structure, whatever you call it, involves outside help. Sometimes supernatural, sometimes not, coming instead in the form of a mentor or some key words from a friend. You’ll notice that none of the characters I used for examples above were alone. They had their Bucky, their Cassian, their Obi-wan, their Samwise, their Syl or Teft. No hero is capable of taking everything on himself, at least not if he is realistic. No human is perfect. In fact, it is with these heroes-against-the-world, these characters who face impossible obstacles, and at some point must accept help from another source, that we see a mirror to our own situation in regards to salvation — we can’t do it alone.
In all story, somewhere, somehow, — especially in all archetype, we see a glimpse of the greater picture. This is no exception. Jesus is to us what Sam was to Frodo, and so much more. When we couldn’t climb the slopes of Mount Doom any further, when we literally could not go on, He took us on His back and carried us, He made the way. The hero’s journey is, in a way, a picture of our own salvation. The moment of awakening, the attempt to succeed on our own, the slide into the pit of despair, the supernatural hand that pulls us out, and the journey forward into a new life — they are all parts of a Christian’s life.
The hero-against-the-world is also a poignant reminder to those of us who are saved, but may feel as if the struggle toward sanctification has no end in sight, as if it’s just one thing after another in this broken, depraved world. Just when we think we’ve overcome one vice, another temptation comes at us and we’re made painfully aware of how deeply sinful we are yet again. We question, we doubt, we wonder if we’ll ever be able to climb out and stand straight again.
But when we have stories where people like us dig deep, stay strong, fight the good fight — we are encouraged to rise again ourselves.
Fictional characters, and heroes specifically, are important. Good role models for our children and for ourselves are edifying and a key part of development, though sadly, true heroes are vanishing from our arts and culture. Instead of noble leads with realistic flaws, we are handed gray characters who never repent and seem not to feel any guilt, or insipid little pictures of woke perfection and entitlement.
To my writers, please avoid this pitfall. As lights in a dark world, we should not try to imitate this world. Light doesn’t imitate darkness — instead it is its opposite, blazing brightly and guiding the way to safety and brilliance and cheer. Light says, ‘courage, dear heart,’ and ‘here, see it all laid bare, but do not fear it. Rather, learn to conquer it, for this light shines on not just the dangers but the way out.’
Forgive me if my waxing poetic grates on your nerves, but it happens when I’m passionate about something. As a child, I rallied myself against my fears by scolding myself for not acting like my heroes. I was given characters who never stopped surmounting challenges, who forged on even when they were afraid. The people you write for, reader, be they children, teenagers, or adults, need those characters. Is it a challenge? Aye. ‘No pressure, just go out and create some bright-eyed kid’s role model.’
But you’re not alone, and after all, others have done it before you. Work hard, and pray over your work. Do it all for God’s glory and to serve others. Write the kind of stories that mirror the light — and give us the kind of characters who can urge us on to higher and greater things.
I’m not going to say something cheesy here like ‘I believe in you.’ I do fervent charges, but I do not do trite cliches. Just go write some awesome stuff. Okay?
Okay.
Cheerio.
Cover image by viarprodesign on Freepik
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