Tag: story themes

The Rise and Fall of the Omniscient Narrator

Third person point of view (POV) is the most commonly used in fiction, so we should all be familiar with what it looks like. But if you aren’t a writer, you may not realise that there are two different types of third person narrative:

Third Person Limited:

Third person limited follows a single person, with the narrator functioning like a camera that can see everything around them, often including their thoughts.

The lapping of water in his ears. That was the first thing. The lapping of water, the rustling of trees, the odd click and twitter of a bird.

Logen opened his eyes a crack. Light, blurry bright through leaves. This was death? Then why did it hurt so much?

The Blade Itself – Joe Abercrombie

Third Person Omniscient:

Third Person omniscient is a more complex viewpoint. In this POV, the narrator is a character in their own right, an all-seeing being who can follow the story down whatever path it takes.

There was once a young man who wished to gain his Heart’s Desire.

And while that is, as beginnings go, not entirely novel (for every tale about every young man there ever was or will be could start in a similar manner) there was much about this young man and what happened to him that was unusual, although even he never knew the whole of it.

Stardust – Neil Gaiman

Third person omniscient used to be a far more popular POV than it has been in recent years. Many well-known books have had omniscient narrators, such as Little Women by Louisa May Alcott or Lord of the Flies by William Golding or Dune by Frank Herbert. But increasingly, modern books tend to prefer third person limited, or even first person, over third person omniscient.

This varies somewhat depending on the genre of course. Sprawling epic fantasy and sci-fi novels tend to benefit from an omniscient narrator, who can draw the reader’s attention across the country or across space to different events that are relevant to the story. However, more contemporary fiction often tends toward the intimacy of third person limited, where you see the story unfold through one character’s perspective.

What is the impact of third person omniscient?

The authoritative voice of the narrator

A good omniscient story has a strong narrative voice. It essentially reads like someone is telling you as a reader a story, where they know the events and the outcome already. The elements that are in the story have all been curated, pulled together by the narrator to communicate their chosen narrative.

Older authors such as Jane Austen used this voice to bring a level of intimacy between the author and the reader, as if the author herself is telling the reader the story. Others use the narrator as an additional character with their own agenda, such as in Marcus Zusak’s The Book Thief, where the narrator is Death himself observing and commenting on humanity.

Done well, this form of narration harks back to the days of oral storytelling. Sitting by the fire with the storyteller sharing a fable with their audience – they have a purpose in telling the story and their opinion about the narration is as integral as the story itself.

Exploring a wider context

An omniscient narrator can introduce information about the wider philosophical, historical or social context to a story without needing to rely on the characters being aware of this context. This allows for a more detailed analysis of world in which the story exists.

The twin city of proud Ankh and pestilent Morpork, of which all the other cities of time and space are, as it were, mere reflections, has stood many assaults in its long and crowded history and has always risen to flourish again. So the fire and its subsequent flood, which destroyed everything left that was not flammable and added a particularly noisome flux to the survivors’ problems, did not mark its end.

The Colour of Magic – Terry Pratchett

Stories where the setting is as important to the themes as the characters themselves often benefit from the freedom to explore beyond a character’s limited perspective. Authors such as George R.R. Martin get round this by having multiple limited POVs but even that approach still relies on characters being aware of or exposed to the aspects of the setting or history that are important for the story as a whole.

Multiple character perspectives

Omniscient narratives allow for a detailed view of multiple characters. If the story is about their relationships or their responses to an event, then this POV allows the writer to equally focus on each perspective, rather than needing to prioritise one over the other.

Jessica stopped three paces from the chair, dropped a small curtsy, a gentle flick of left hand along the line of her skirt. Paul gave the short bow his dancing master had taught—the one used “when in doubt of another’s station.”
The nuances of Paul’s greeting were not lost on the Reverend Mother. She said: “He’s a cautious one, Jessica.”
Jessica’s hand went to Paul’s shoulder, tightened there. For a heartbeat, fear pulsed through her palm. Then she had herself under control. “Thus he has been taught, Your Reverence.”
What does she fear? Paul wondered.

Dune – Frank Herbert

In the above quote, the narrator gives glimpses into the perspectives of all three characters, and reveals information about the dynamics between Jessica and the Reverend Mother in particular.

Dramatic irony

Because the narrator is outside of the action in third person omniscient, they can make the reader privy to information that the characters aren’t. This allows the narrator to build suspense by leaving the reader to anticipate a later revelation or consequence.

She was the book thief without the words.
Trust me, though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like rain.

The Book Thief – Marcus Zusak

This concept lends itself well to the kind of story where the reader already has an idea of how the story might end where the narrative is more about the journey that gets them there.

So why do writers use omniscient narratives less now?

Within writing circles, the most common view is that omniscient POV is less popular now because it’s so much more difficult to get right. People talk about how too much perspective shifting leads to readers feeling like they’re head hopping and losing sight of which character they should be following. Or they talk about how it leads to the reader feeling distant and disconnected from the narrative. But writing omniscient narratives is no more difficult than it was before, so what’s changed?

In my opinion, the change in popularity represents a shift in reader expectations. Omniscient narratives are often more about society and culture than they are about the characters within them, which is partly why they work so well with epic fantasy, where the reader is immersed in a brand new world with its own society to discover.

Or, if the characters are the true subject of an omniscient narrative, the story is told in a way that keeps a level of distance – as if the author is a friend telling you a story about someone they know. You might learn personal details about the characters, but it’s all told though the filter of the narrator.

These days, we often don’t want that distance. With the rise in the Internet and social media, we’re used to feeling connected to the people around us, to having glimpses into the personal lives of people that we don’t even really know. And so when we read a story, we look to feel that same connection with the characters we read about, which third person limited (and first person) allows us to do.

Omniscient narratives can also give an air of the narrator being an authority within the story, someone teaching the reader something they wouldn’t otherwise know. As our society has shifted, with less emphasis on social hierarchy, I think readers are more inclined to want to feel like an equal within the narrative, someone who is discovering it for the first time with the characters, rather than being taught it later by the narrator. We want to feel the thrill of the vicarious experience without the filter of knowing that the story has already happened.

Does that mean omniscient narratives are dying out?

Even if society had changed and what most readers want is different now than in the past, that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a place for the omniscient POV. Plenty of authors still use it to powerful effect and are successful in building an audience to read their work. These days though the reason for its use needs to be carefully considered – a choice by the writer to achieve a particular narrative effect that fits their story.

About the Author:

Caroline Ashley fantasy writer

Caroline Ashley is a clinical psychologist who works for the NHS in Scotland. She enjoys all forms of fantasy and is fascinated with the ways in which the fantastical can speak to our everyday lives. If Caroline had any spare time around work, writing and raising her two young children, she would spend it playing board games.

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The Use of Second Person Point of View in Fiction

After introducing the psychology behind perspective taking and literary points of view in How theory of mind leads to effective storytelling, I wanted to go into more detail about the impact of different points of view on our experience of a story.

I’m going to start with the point of view that’s used the least often – the second person.

What is Second Person Point of View

In this point of view, the narrator turns the reader into the protagonist, speaking as if the reader themselves were the one who experienced the narrative.

This point of view is rarely experienced in day to day life. When people tell us stories, they’re usually describing their own experiences, so will use the first person, or they’re recounting something that happened to someone else, and would use the third person.

There are a few uses of the second person that you might be familiar with. When someone you know is asking for your opinion, they might ask you to put yourself in their shoes: “If you were happy with your job, but were offered one with better salary, would you take it?”. Or they might use the second person in subtle ways to involve the listener in an event that’s being recounted, for example: “The ball hit the net and you could hear the crowd go wild.”

In literature, the second person is more often used in non-fiction, where the author may be directing their readers to particular actions. It is much less common in fiction, though one example of it that most people will be aware of is with ‘choose your own adventure’ books. Those stories where you can pick what choice the character makes, thus creating your own narrative and deciding how the story ends.

How is second person used

There are three main ways in which a second person narrative can be used in a story:

The narrator is addressing the reader

This takes the form of the narrator talking to the reader about things that the reader has done. The narrator is omniscient and knows everything about the reader’s character, much as if the story was in the first person. Choose your own adventure books take on this form, where an unknown narrator is describing the reader’s story to them.

The narrator is addressing themselves

This approach might be used to show that the narrator is distancing themselves from something that has happened to them. They struggle to admit that they are narrating about themselves so address the reader instead or it may be that it’s written as if some subconscious part of their conscience is speaking for them.

An example of this form would be the short story How To Be An Other Woman by Lorrie Moore, where the narrator struggles to own her behaviour and so distances herself from it by writing in the second person.

Love drains you, takes with it much of your blood sugar and water weight. You are like a house slowly losing its electricity, the fans slowing, the lights dimming and flickering; the clocks stop and go and stop.

Lorrie Moore

The narrator is addressing another character

Technically this is a very intimate form of first person narrative. The narrator is talking about their experience but addressing their story specifically to the reader rather than to a general audience. An example of this would be You by Caroline Kepnes, where the narrator is describing his obsession for a woman:

You smile, embarrassed to be a nice girl, and your nails are bare and your V-neck sweater is beige and it’s impossible to know if you’re wearing a bra but I don’t think that you are.

Caroline Kepnes

What is the impact of second person point of view

It makes the reader feel responsible for the events of the story

Because this point of view brings the reader into the narrative, it can serve to make them feel complicit in the events that come to pass. It can feel like the narrator is telling us what we have done, reminding us of our actions. Take Iain Banks novel, Complicity, where scenes with a murderer are all written in the second person:

She was quivering with fear when you looked into her face. You knew you looked terrifying in the dark balaclava, but there was nothing you could do about that.

Iain Banks

In this novel, Banks’ words at times take on an accusing tone, as if the narrator is holding the reader to account for their murderous actions.

As social animals, we often have an emotional reaction to feeling accused, whether falsely or not. We may feel guilty, ashamed, or angry and rejected. In this novel, Banks attempts to take advantage of that response by having the narrator recount our misdeeds.

In many ways, Joe McInerney’s Bright Lights, Big City works to elicit emotions in a similar way. Telling the story of a serial cheater, it’s as if his conscience is writing the story, bringing to light the mistakes that he has made, and judging his actions.

You have friends that actually care about you and speak the language of the inner self. You have avoided them of late. Your soul is as dishevelled as your apartment, and until you can clean it up a little you don’t want to invite anyone inside.

Joe McInerney

It forces the reader to inhabit an experience

Open Water by Caleb Azumah Nelson explores a love story between two Black people in London, reflecting on the impact of racism and generational trauma on the protagonist. The use of the second person gives a sense of intimacy to the story. It asks the reader to live the protagonist’s life, to immerse themselves in the pain and loss, and to learn something about his unique experience.

Sometimes you forget that to be you is to be unseen and unheard, or it is to be seen and heard in ways you did not ask for.

Caleb Azumah Nelson

Alternatively, in You by Caroline Kepnes, the reader is made the object of someone’s obsession and asked to experience the impact of that obsession.

It speaks to the narrator’s pain

There is a contrast in the use of the second person for painful events – the author is on the one hand suggesting that the story is too painful for the narrator to embrace it as their own, but on the other hand inviting the reader to understand that pain.

N.K. Jemisin uses this to powerful effect in her Broken Earth series:

You are she. She is you. You are Essun. Remember? The woman whose son is dead.

N.K. Jemisin

The pitfalls of the second person point of view

There are good reasons why this isn’t a common narrative form. The times when it can be used to good effect are in some ways quite specific and if a reader doesn’t feel the use is justified they can struggle to embrace the writing style.

Second person narratives require a big suspension of disbelief, a willingness on the reader’s part to embrace the character they are being asked to inhabit. This becomes more difficult to do the longer the story goes, so often it’s most successfully used within a short story or as part of a longer piece. It is particularly difficult for a reader if the events of the story are traumatic or distressing. Our natural response to feeling threatened is often to protect ourselves from threat, which can mean that readers disengage from second person narratives when the story becomes too emotionally challenging – leading to them needing more distance from the story than they would have if they had been reading in first person.

In addition to this, some readers just aren’t able to connect with second person stories in the same way as first or third. It is too unfamiliar to them and it requires too much cognitive effort on their part to engage with the narrative. This means that for any story written in the second person, there is likely to be a group of readers who simply struggle to enjoy the narrative, no matter how well written.

It is also difficult to get right. There’s a tricky balance between too little and too much information about the character in second person point of view: too little and they don’t feel like fully fleshed individuals, but too much and we struggle to relate to them, which is absolutely necessary for second person point if view to work. Less experienced writers also often don’t put as much thought into their narrator as they do into their characters, not truly considering why their story is being told and to whom, and, without this, second person narratives risk coming across as more of a gimmick than a considered plan around how best to tell the story.

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About the Author

Caroline Ashley is a clinical psychologist who works for the NHS in Scotland. She loves fantasy in all forms and is fascinated by the ways in which the fantasical can speak to our everyday lives.

Telling a story with logos, pathos and ethos

One of the main aims of any story teller is to convince their audience of something, whether that be to immerse them in a magical world, or make a theoretical argument, or to build an emotional connection with the characters. So how do you write a convincing story? What elements need to be there for an audience to buy into the narrative?

More than 2000 years ago, the philosopher Aristotle wrote On Rhetoric: A Theory of Civic Discourse where he laid the foundations for all subsequent ideas about rhetoric and the art of persuasion. Aristotle posited that in order to make a persuasive argument a writer requires three rhetorical appeals:

  • Logos: making a logical argument. In non-fiction, this would mean that the narrative needs to be evidence based and structured in such a way that it pre-empts any counter argument.
  • Ethos: being credible and likeable. A writer needs to be seen as someone that the audience can trust and respect, someone whose argument is worth listening to, or someone whose ideals are similar to their own.
  • Pathos: connecting emotionally with the audience. This is about forming an emotion connection, either by evoking positive emotions for the narrative or negative emotions for the ideas or people who oppose the writer’s argument.

(As an aside to this blog post, this is an example of the power of the rule of three, which I’ve discussed previously. Artistotle breaks quite a few of his rhetorical concepts down to three parts, likely because he understood the power that the rule of three has in helping people to engage with and remember information.)

Aristotle’s ideas have been used to inform written and spoken work throughout the ages. His writings cover far more than just these three elements and are essentially a ‘how to’ guide for making an argument that people will listen to. Being a philosopher and scientist, Aristotle was most concerned with using discourse to communicate theoretical ideas rather than stories, but the basic concept is just as useful for writers wanting to ‘sell’ their fiction to their audience.

One thing that I think is important to note though, is that most writing doesn’t necessarily require all three of these factors to be successful. A not-very-good book by an internationally best-selling writer is likely to still sell a lot of copies regardless. A story that plucks at the heart strings well enough may be forgiven for some factual inaccuracies or internal inconsistencies. And a well-written story with an interesting argument to make may not need to appeal to the audience’s emotions to be remembered.

Logos within Fiction

Logos is all about a story making sense. It doesn’t necessarily have to be completely factually accurate but it the narrative has to flow in a way that readers can wrap their heads around and the rules of the world within the story need to be consistent.

Some stories use logos as the primary focus of the narrative. For example, Fountains of Paradise by Arthur C. Clarke is largely a speculative piece about the feasibility of a space elevator on earth. The characters are fairly two dimensional and forgettable, largely used as a means of progressing his scientific ideas. Another example would be The Martian by Andy Weir, who said in promoting his book that he worked hard to ensure that the novel was as scientifically accurate as possible.

On the other hand, we have the TV series Lost. Those of you who have watched it will remember waiting patiently for explanations for the polar bear that appears in the jungle in Season 1, or what was underneath the hatch, or what the numbers truly meant. Many explanations just led to further questions and by the finale there were several hanging threads that were never tied off. The story was often more about the characters anyway and many fans still felt satisfied by the closure they had by the end. However, plenty of others were disappointed by the lack of cohesive narrative, and the issues with the story have reduced its re-watch value for many fans.

While readers will tend to forgive the odd mistake here and there, or suspend their disbelief for a compelling enough story, it definitely weakens a story and disrupts our immersion if we find ourselves questioning the logic within the narrative.

Pathos within Fiction

If a writer can emotionally connect with an audience through their writing then they’ll create moments that are remembered long after the story is over. The example that sprang to my mind when writing this is from the movie The Never-ending Story. If you were a child when this movie came out, then you may already be picturing Atreyu desperately trying to rescue his horse Artax from drowning in the Swamp of Sadness only to fail and be left to continue his journey alone. The emotional connection that I felt for Atreyu has stuck with me well into my adulthood, cementing my memory of the movie along with it.

One way to use pathos to good effect, is to establish well-rounded characters that we can empathise with. By exploring their thoughts and feelings, their vulnerabilities and strengths, the audience starts to feel close to them, which leads to the reader feeling happy when life goes their way or upset when it doesn’t. Equally, writers can elicit more complex feelings by exploring different themes or dilemmas that might lead to the character making choices that readers might disagree with, eliciting their ire but still also forming an emotional connection with the story. One example of this is with Severus Snape from JK Rowling’s Harry Potter series. He is largely presented as an unlikeable character, who had fought for the villain Voldemort and was cruel to Harry in his time at Hogwarts. But he was also revealed to have been in love with Harry’s mother and working as a spy for the enemy in the present day. Many readers have been divided over whether his good actions outweigh the bad and whether his love for Harry’s mother and desire for redemption really make up for his behaviour toward Harry throughout the books.

Pathos can also be driven by the events of the story. If the characters are placed in a situation that the audience would find frightening or overwhelming, then the moment itself can trigger similar emotions even if the characters aren’t well developed yet. Horror movies take advantage of the power of pathos in this setting all the time. Often character development is limited but these films will draw on our fears of the events that are happening to the characters in order to keep us emotionally invested in the rest of the story.

Budding writers are told to ‘show, not tell’ in their narratives and pathos benefits the most from this technique. Research has shown that trying to picture a scene in our minds eye triggers activity in the same brain areas as when we are experiencing events ourselves. So the more we are immersed in the sensory experiences or the internal process of a character, the more connected we will feel with what is happening to them.

Ethos in Fiction

For storytelling, there are two ways in which ethos can apply. Firstly, within the story itself. A writer can demonstrate their credibility by writing well. If you start the first page and find spelling errors or clunky dialogue or figurative language that doesn’t seem to work, then you start to question whether their ideas are worth the time. Simply by making sure that their work is well-edited, a writer can demonstrate that are capable of telling a story and the audience is just that bit more likely to continue. All of the different storytelling techniques that writers try to learn, like the use of point of view, or story themes, or characterisation, or sentence structure, all combine to make them seem more credible to a reader.

But there are also factors outside of the book itself to be aware of. If an author is already well established then we trust that their content will be worth reading. We buy the next book in their series not based on any recommendations for that book, but based on our knowledge of the books that the writer has previously produced. This only takes a writer so far of course – if their audience reads the book and decides that its not on par with their previous work, then they’ll be less likely to buy the next story.

The importance of ethos is the reason why many writers are now on social media, posting about themselves and their work. If a reader feels that they know the writer, that they understand the writer’s point of view, then they’re more likely to pay for their work. Even before social media, books always had a blurb about the author, telling us something personal about them: unnecessary for enjoyment of the book, but sometimes those little details help us to decide whether a book is for us or not. I remember thinking that Jim Butcher was someone who might write my kind of fiction because his blurb said that he enjoyed playing tabletop games. I stuck a postcard of Terry Pratchett with rats on his shoulders up on my noticeboard because I loved my pet rats growing up and enjoyed the idea that I might share that love with one of my favourite writers.

Building credibility or likeability as a writer generally takes time. The Harry Potter series didn’t start to get big until it was three books in. Jim Butcher spent time on the convention circuit trying to make contacts in the literary industry before he found representation for his first Dresden Files book. Andy Weirposted his novel in a serialised format on his website and then self published it online but he had already spent years posting a web comic and short fiction on his website, building up the audience he needed to make his novel a success.

How does it all add together?

To go back to Aristotle, he believed that the most important element of these three concepts was logos, driven as he was by his attempts to convey rational, scientific argument in his work. When it comes to fiction, all three can play an important role in the success of a story. For a narrative to stand the test of time, any good writer will have considered how they are using each of these elements to contribute to the narrative that they want to sell to their audience. This doesn’t necessarily mean giving equal weight to each concept though – as already noted, Arthur C. Clarke wasn’t always very good with pathos but his stories carried scientific ideas that stood the test of time; and The Never-ending Story is remembered more for the emotional impact of the events on the characters. In terms of ethos, some writers work to sell themselves as much as they do their books, building connections with their fans, while others prefer not to be under the public eye, relying on the quality of their writing to establish their credibility. Each approach may build an audience, though it will likely be composed of different groups of people, drawn to the type of story that most appeals to them. The most important part for a writer is to consider their work and who they want their audience to be, so that they can use these three elements to help make their story a success.

 

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About the Author

 Caroline Ashley is a clinical psychologist who works for the NHS in Scotland. She loves fantasy in all forms and is fascinated by the ways in which the fantasical can speak to our everyday lives.

 

Trickster stories and why we need them

In my previous blog post The feral child archetype: stories and themes in real life and fiction, I introduced the concept of character archetypes that keep arising across different societies. Carl Jung believed that these archetypes represented elements of our psyche, coming to life within the stories that we tell each other.

Because archetypes are found in so many stories, everyone holds certain expectations about how these characters will behave when they are used in fiction. Writers can use these expectations as a tool to strengthen a narrative by using archetypes that speak to the themes that the writer is trying to convey. However, if they’re used poorly, a writer can risk their story simply sounding clichéd and derivative.

This blog post is about my favourite character archetype: The Trickster. They are the black sheep of the family; the jester in the court; the cause of the landslide falling down toward the village below. They are characters who are often morally ambiguous. If your life was made better by the trickster’s behaviour, was that intentional or just a by-product of them achieving their own goals? In folklore, tricksters aren’t the kind of gods that you welcome into your village, because you never know what chaos will follow them. You’re as likely to see your house burned to the ground as you are to see any benefit of their presence.

What is the trickster archetype?

The concept of the trickster is so endemic across society that Carl Jung listed the character as one of the archetypes that live within our collective unconscious. Jung’s Trickster is said to represent the irrational and chaotic elements of our personality. His role is to bring these elements to the surface. In doing so, he highlights the inconsistencies and humour in the lives we live.

Within folklore and mythology, the trickster character is a study in contrasts. Tricksters are rogues and thieves but they are also lovable scoundrels who bring a sense of playfulness and joy to a story. They are cunning and duplicitous but they are also often outsmarted and punished. They straddle the boundary between right and wrong, stability and chaos, and it depends on the story which side of the boundary they will fall.

Tricksters also speak to the absurdity of life. We live in a world where life inevitably leads to death; where pain and suffering are as endemic as happiness and laughter. Within stories the trickster often speaks to the unfairness of the world, but he laughs about it along the way, softening the underlying message of our lack of control over an uncaring universe.

Tricksters from myth and fiction

Tricksters can be found across the world, some more well known than others.

Loki – if you’re a fan of the MCU then you’ll already be familiar with Loki, the Norse god of mischief. Loki could change his shape and his sex. He was sometimes known to work with the gods and at other times he worked against them, the definition of disorder within Norse mythology. He frequently uses his cunning to solve problems for the gods, though on several occasions he had caused the problem in the first place. He becomes increasingly antagonistic toward the gods, eventually being bound and tortured until Ragnarok, when he would escape and contribute to their defeat and the rebirth of the world.

Maui – A Polynesian folk hero who was brought into mainstream awareness when he featured in Moana. Maui’s stories were told across most of Polynesia: he was known for bringing fire to humankind; pulling the islands from the ocean with his hook; and slowing down the movement of the sun. Maui’s stories frequently have him outwitting the gods to change the world for the betterment of humankind.

Anansi – the spider trickster of West African myth, Anansi is a crafty trickster who can fool humans, animals and gods alike, generally for the purpose of making his life easier and others’ lives more difficult. Legends say he helped give humankind the sun, moon and rain, as well as writing and agriculture.

Coyote – across Native American myth, several animals have trickster stories associated with them, including Raven, Bluejay, and Rabbit, but the most well known is Coyote. Not all Coyote stories agree with each other, but they all speak about a similar character. Coyote is known for such things as impatiently tossing the stars into the sky to form the milky way and making death permanent because he believed there wasn’t enough food for everyone to live forever.

Eris – the Greek goddess of discord. She is most well-known for starting a fight between the other goddesses after she wasn’t invited to a wedding, which ultimately led to the Trojan war.

Matilda – a child-friendly trickster story of a clever girl with special powers who uses her cunning to play pranks on the abusive adults around her. Their crimes are found out and she ends up living a happy life with her teacher.

Jack Sparrow – in Pirates of the Caribbean, Jack Sparrow takes on the role of a trickster. He is a cunning character who cares only for his own self interest. He helps others when it benefits his goals and he always seems to escape any significant consequences for his actions.

Deadpool – the fourth-wall breaking anti-hero of the Marvel Universe, Deadpool often sits on the edge of good versus bad, his actions generally driven by his own impulsive urges rather than any long term plan. He has a regenerative healing factor so he throws himself into danger, with little need to care about the consequences. Deadpool often speaks to the audience in his stories, cracking jokes and making fun of the narrative as well as the wider comic universe.

The features of a trickster

There are certain features that tend to define tricksters across the world:

Their motives are ambiguous or fickle

Often they make impulsive choices based on their own needs and wants, and it’s never clear how much they intend to help or hinder those around them. In African myth, Anansi decided that he wanted to become wise, so he gathered a bit of wisdom from everyone in the village, storing it in a gourd. He tried to climb a tree to hide his wisdom with the gourd on his belt. When his son saw Anansi struggling, he suggested wearing it on his back. Anansi realised that even with all that wisdom, his son was still wiser than him, so he cast the contents of the gourd away, thus spreading wisdom all across the world.

They play tricks

Tricksters are cunning and devious. Their stories often involve them manipulating those around them, sometimes to meet their own needs, sometimes to make fun of their victims and knock them down a peg or two. Esu, an African god, once intervened when two farmers promised never to argue. He wore a hat which was black on one side and white on another and after causing the farmers to argue over the colour, then turns it inside out and tells them it’s red. There is a Coyote story where he goes to the Frog People, who hold control of all the water. Coyote doesn’t like this, so he asks for a drink, which they allow, but while his head is under the water he makes a hole in the dam, allowing the other animals to drink freely and creating all the rivers and waterfalls.

They are masters of disguise

Some tricksters, like Loki, are shape-shifters who change form to trick those around them. Others, like Coyote, might use disguises to hide who they are.

Messenger and antagonist of the gods

Tricksters often have a close connection with the gods but whether they help or hinder them very much depends on the trickster’s mood during that particular story. Take Loki, for example, in one story he cuts off the goddess Sif’s golden hair as a prank but when he is caught, he travels to the dwarves and lavishes them in praise and false promises so that they will produce a cap of golden hair to replace it.

Their actions disrupt the status quo

Often after a trickster story, something about the situation they were in has fundamentally changed, like fire being stolen from the gods by Maui, Prometheus or Coyote; or wisdom being shared with humanity by Anansi. There is a story in Norse mythology where Loki causes the death of Baldur, a god of light and purity, known for his kindness and wisdom. There was a prophecy about Baldur’s death and his mother tried to avoid it by making every entity vow not to harm him. She didn’t ask mistletoe though, and when Loki heard this he tricked Baldur’s brother into firing a mistletoe arrow and killing Balder. Baldur’s death, the death of light and truth, is the first step towards Ragnarok, where the world will be destroyed, to rise again renewed and cleansed.

What are the themes in trickster stories?

Even the smallest among us can change the world

One example of trickster stories being used to inspire comes from Anansi. With the rise of the slave trade, Anansi became a symbol of slave resistance – the representation of a strategy to turn the tides on powerful oppressors. Anansi’s stories were also a connection to their African heritage and a means of retaining their identity. By telling stories about a character who could shape the world despite not being powerful, slaves were able to hold on to a small piece of their agency in a time when their slavers sought to take it from them.

Those in charge aren’t always right

Trickster stories tell us that conforming to society’s rules isn’t always the best thing to do. By breaking the rules and challenging authority, sometimes we can create a better world to live in.

You don’t have to conform to be happy

tricksters throughout the world stand out from the crowd in various ways. They change shape; they’re promiscuous; they’re impulsive; they don’t think about the consequences of their actions. And yet, they are generally happy characters. They are content in who they are and find power in being different, often actually looking down on those who do try to conform to the rules and boundaries that the trickster is often breaking.

There is a cost to challenging authority

Trickster stories also warn us of the consequences of being the one who challenges the status quo. Even when tricksters succeed at their goal, they can be ostracised or punished for their actions by the gods, animals or people they have tricked. Maui dies trying to achieve immortality; Loki is tortured until Ragnarok; Prometheus is cursed to have his liver perpetually eaten by an eagle. There is a freedom to acting on your impulses, to doing as you please and having no respect for authority, but it also makes you an outsider. People generally don’t like change and they may not thank the person who causes it.

Are tricksters still relevant today?

Here in the 21st century, there is still a need for someone who helps us to find our voice within the crowd. In the public sphere, there are debates over transgender rights and we question what it truly means to be a man or a woman – or whether the distinction is even necessary. This is something that trickster stories have been touching on for centuries. Many tricksters are male but they are often shown to be comfortable in female form (Loki, in fact, while generally presented as male, is also a mother to the eight-legged horse Sleipnir). This crossing of the boundary between male and female showed that societal expectations for men and women were as subject to challenge by the trickster as any other boundary and no more static than any other aspect of society. In this modern world where gender definitions and expectations are increasingly varied, perhaps a trickster, who has no concern for gender or for societal expectations of sexuality, is the kind of character who might speak most strongly to those trying to work out how they slot into society.

The same might be true for neurodiversity. We are more aware of neurodiversity than ever before and diagnoses of ADHD and ASD are at an all time high, but what those labels mean in terms of who we are and how we fit in the world is still unclear for a lot of people. The tricksters can be impulsive, hyperactive, unconcerned with social niceties, more concerned with their own agenda than anyone else’s and often live on the edge of society. They are the odd ones out and they don’t care, because they are comfortable with who they are. Characters who show us how to be confident may lead the way in helping us find confidence for ourselves.

Linking back to Jung’s theories, there are parts of the trickster archetype in all of us. The trickster inside demands that we rail against discrimination; that we challenge those in authority to accept our differences and to move with the times; that we give into our impulses and just do as we please. But the trickster also knows what it costs to take on that role and that society at large will not always accept difference – it takes a level of bravery, and sometimes foolishness too, to not care what others think.

In the end, we write stories about tricksters to help us to reconcile those two sides of the coin – characteristics of the trickster are necessary to prevent our society from stagnating, but they are also to be feared, because who knows what the consequences of those actions might be?

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Caroline Ashley is a clinical psychologist who works for the NHS in Scotland. She loves fantasy in all forms and is fascinated by the ways in which the fantasical can speak to our everyday lives.

The feral child archetype: stories and themes in real life and fiction

What is an archetype?

In a previous post, ‘What is a story?’, I talked about Christopher Booker’s seven proposed story archetypes. These archetypes describe the narrative structures that are most commonly seen in the stories that we tell. Brooker’s ideas were informed by the psychiatrist Carl Jung, who introduced the concept of a collective unconscious, an ancestral memory of different concepts that influence our behaviour and which echo across the world in our stories. Jung’s focus was on the development of the human psyche and, as a result, his proposed archetypes tended to focus more on characters rather than narratives. While some of his work might seem outdated now, these characters still persist within our stories.

The wild child through history

Most people will be familiar with the concept of the feral child. A child who has lived from a young age without human contact, usually raised by animals to connect with the wisdom of the wild. This concept can be found in literary fiction and in mythology across the world.

Enkidu, a character from the Mesopotamian Epic of Gilgamesh, is the oldest known example of a wild man. He was created by the goddess of creation and roamed free with the herds. When he copulates with a prostitute, the animals smell the human scent on him and reject him, forcing him to learn the ways of humankind. Romulus and Remus, the twin founders of Rome, are well-known by their story of having been suckled by a wolf before being adopted by a shepherd and his wife. The Iranian šāhnāmeh (‘Book of Kings’) has Zaal, a mythical king who was rejected by his father and raised by a simurgh until his father realised the error of his ways.

A more modern example is Mowgli from Rudyard Kipling’s ‘The Jungle Book’, although many will also be familiar with him from the Disney adaptation. The book’s story is one of a boy who is abandoned and finds himself part of both human and animal worlds. His last story, before he departs from the jungle to live with Man as an adult, talks about Mowgli’s sadness and tears, something that separates him from his animal companions. While he accepts that he belongs in the world of Man, this acceptance can be seen as a loss, much like children have to give up aspects of freedom and play to grow into adults.

Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Tarzan, on the other hand, is a tale of escapism from the perspective of a masculine White man who is stronger, faster and smarter than the humans and animals around him. His survival skills and connection with the jungle rise him up above his enemies but he retains enough of a connection with his Western upper class heritage to live as he pleases in the human world.

‘Where the Wild Things Are’ by Maurice Sendack is a children’s book about a ‘wild child’. The concepts are more allegorical but still similar – Max journeys in his dreams to become King of the Wild Things, then returns home, having gained a level of mastery over himself, and become stronger because of it.

The real feral children

The reality of children living with animals is far less entertaining. The human brain has critical periods of development which, if missed, can lead to long term disability.

The real life inspiration for Mowgli, Dina Sanichar, was found living with wolves as a six year old. Hunters killed the mother wolf and took him to an orphanage. He learned to walk upright, put on clothes and use a plate but he never learned a language or how to fit in with human society.

Oxana Malaya is assumed to have lived with dogs from the age of three to eight after her alcoholic parents abandoned her. Discovered in 1994, she was able to learn to talk and walk upright but still lives in an adult care facility now. The similar story of Ivan Mishukov has a happier ending. He lived with dogs in the city for two years from around four and was later taken in by a loving foster family and able to reintegrate into society.

Another man, Marcus Pantoja, lived with wolves for twelve years in isolation after being sold by his abusive stepmother to a man who subsequently died. He recalls living among the animals and being able to communicate with them. In reality, he probably projected social intention on their actions in order to feel less alone – they would come when he had food, and he would see it as friendship. Marcus was seven when he ended up alone in the mountains, so had learned enough language to be able to rebuild his skills when he returned to society, but he has always struggled to adapt to the human world. As recently as 2018, aged 72, he voiced that he still wished he could return to the mountains.

What do stories about feral children try to tell us?

These real life stories and examples from history suggest various themes that might arise in a narrative about a feral child.

Survival:

Both the real and fictional characters  raise the question of how to survive when society has rejected you or left you behind. We are social creatures and for most of us the thought of complete isolation is a scary prospect. Fictional narratives tell us that we can survive rejection and find a place to belong, though the reality often tells us the opposite.

Found families:

In many cases of feral children in fiction, the animals that raise them become their families. Often they have human traits, are able to speak and behave like the people whose role they’ve fulfilled for the child in the story. As such, these narratives tell us that even when our biological family cannot look after us, others will take their place and we won’t be alone. The simurgh who takes in Zaal, for example, comes at his call to offer help even after he returns to his father.

The differences between humans and animals:

In a story that begins with a child being abandoned, it’s animals who ensure that he or she is cared for. They don’t judge or threaten – they offer food, companionship and protection when no human offers it. In real life, the best example of this is probably with animals that are used to living with humans to begin with. For example, the dogs that Ivan Mishukov lived with tried to defend him from the police and were killed when they kept trying to reach him in the orphanage he was taken to. The implied message underneath this animal behaviour in stories is that humans aren’t always capable of the same unjudging acceptance – humans develop prejudices and flaws and mental health difficulties that prevent them from offering the human connection that their loved ones might need. In the midst of that, many would say that the uncomplicated love of an animal is a welcome comfort.

Our ties to human society:

Even stories like Tarzan that include a return to the jungles, make it clear that living forever with the animals isn’t feasible. Mankind have separated ourselves from animalkind and no matter how long we live in the wilds, we must eventually accept that we are in some way different from our animal companions. Most stories featuring a feral child involve that child returning to human society, sometimes with difficulty, though often as a stronger, more empowered individual for having reconnected with their wild roots.

The beauty and simplicity of nature: This concept is usually in contrast to the complexity and potential cruelty of human society. Living in the wilderness is presented as a more simplistic way of living. That doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s safer, and often there are a lot of survival related dangers in the wilderness, but they may be presented as being easier to navigate, the enemies forthright and open about their intentions. In Mowgli’s story, he is cast out for witchcraft when he first tries to reintegrate with humankind and his adoptive parents are tarred with the same brush, prompting him to send animals to help them. Marcus Pentoja has consistently said that he struggles with human society and found life among the animals far easier to navigate.

Power in difference:  

Surviving in the wilds often leads to the main character being stronger and more able than many of the humans they encounter. Tarzan for example, frequently bested humans who tried to threaten him or his family. Zaal gained wisdom from being raised by the ancient simurgh. As the narrative goes, survival in the wilderness empowers the main character, to be stronger than the humans who rejected them, through connecting with their animal nature. But it may also show that being different than those around you can be to your advantage – the outcasts, the rejects, they can overcome their bullies because they have their own unique skills.

The strength of the archetype

Archetypes play a role in setting reader expectations and they are a shorthand tool that a writer can employ in order to communicate the themes of their story. They have been used within stories likely since stories began to be told. Used well, they can strengthen a narrative by speaking to the themes that the writer is trying to convey. However, used poorly, they risk coming across as clichéd and plagiaristic.

The most important factor in using them to their full potential is being clear about the themes that they evoke when they’re introduced into a narrative. Those themes need to tie well with the story being told so that it’s clear why the character is there, or else the reader may find the story unfocused, or assume that the writer is being lazy by relying on the archetype to define their character for them.

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 About the Author

 

Caroline Ashley is a clinical psychologist who works for the NHS in Scotland. She loves of fantasy in all forms and is fascinated by the ways in which the fantasical can speak to our everyday lives.