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Credit @Josephine Gronk |
When
reaching for my next book to read I have a terrible habit of ignoring my TBR
and rereading Jane Eyre. Until last year, when my first novel was published,
and I devoured as many contemporary novels as I could. In those acclaimed
bestsellers I discovered a wealth of spunky and funky heroines, who in their
own various and brilliant ways seemed to have no flaws at all.
Every
protagonist is the main character of her story, the one that makes decisions
and faces the significant obstacles within the plot. In my studies of writing, I
have always understood that a heroine can do one of two things: be the driver
that propels the action forwards and changes the world around her, or the
reactor to the action that moves around her within her world. The gothic novel
– the genre within I write – prefers the latter. In its simplest form, picture
this: a young woman, hair streaming, standing in front of a doomed-looking
castle, the victim of her circumstance, a desperate damsel in distress, a
captive desperate to escape her fate. Her deepest desires tend to be different
from her actual needs, but we as readers cheer her on and champion her as she
makes dreadful mistakes and stumbles towards her inevitable fate.
I have
seen a downward trend in this type of heroine. It is a shame, because we need
her, because we are her. We cannot all be Katniss Everdene.
A real
woman is messy, complicated, tricky, moody, and surely more interesting. As a
reader I am thrilled by particularly darkly lit characters that are morally
problematic. Gone Girl’s Amy Dunne is a perfect example of this, as she reveals
a third of the way through the novel that she is not only alive and well but
had planned the whole thing. Her ‘anti-cool-girl’ declaration lit up almost
every woman I know as we each recognised her furious logic glowing through the
novel’s narrative. One friend of mine, though, threw the book on the floor in disgust
and refused to read any further. We are not friends anymore.
The
protagonists of my two gothic novels are a troubled teacher in her mid-twenties,
and a bratty young girl on holiday with her wealthy parents. In MADAM my first
is an everywoman introduced into a monstrous boarding school world, in THE
RUINS my second is a little girl that becomes a monster in response to the oppressive
collective she is forced to live inside. Both find themselves on the edge of
the world they inhabit, both struggle to properly interact with the other
members of their society, and both find every day a challenge. In the end,
these characters find what they need in a very messy, destructive, and
beautiful way. My young women are brutal and brutalised – too much perhaps, for
many readers. But they have come from an ordinary place, and they make
themselves extraordinary by what they do and by what has been done to them.
There are
gentler and more expert versions of this – Jo March of Little Women, Elizabeth
Bennet of Pride and Prejudice, even Jane in Jane Eyre. Every one of them loved,
adored, and celebrated even today – because they are versions of ourselves:
foolish, loving, muddled, passionate, desperately happy and unhappy, both wrong
and right. I would love to meet another one of these complicated heroines in
contemporary novels, but I have not.
It might be
because fundamentally, as a reader I am drawn to the real heroines – the
ancient ones. Women in classical mythology suffered more viscerally and lived lives
more colourfully outside of our regimented modern societies. These women have
shouted loud at me from a young age, and as a result, I have based many of my
characters on ancient women. There is a current trend to pick these characters
up and guide them towards a warmly reimagined version of their story – and in
almost every example they become more likeable. But I say, let them be. Let
women be horrible if their story needs them to be horrible. Medea kills her
children to save them from a disastrous future, to punish her husband, and to
ensure a secure future for herself. Agrippina poisons the Roman emperor, her
uncle, in order to place her own son on the throne and is tormented and assassinated
as a result. There is little of this in today’s storytelling – but perhaps we
need it. Let female characters be angry, unhappy, and violent if it is true to
them. Let them scream and cry and fight back, while male characters rush horribly
through their own stories as ever, like Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights, Humbert
Humbert in Lolita, and even Patrick Bateman in the American Psycho. I say, bring
back our tricky and unlikeable heroines. Let us be rid of the superhero woman
and allow ourselves to revel in the flawed everywoman.
The Ruins
by Phoebe Wynne (Published by Quercus Publishing) Out Now
Amidst
the glamour of the French Riviera lies the crumbling facade of Chateau de
Setes, a small slice of France still held by the British aristocracy. But this
long since abandoned chateau is now up for sale, and two people are desperate
to get their hands on it despite its terrible history. Summer, 1985: Ruby has stayed at the chateau
with her family every summer of her twelve years. It was her favourite place to
be, away from the strictures of her formal childhood, but this year uninvited
guests have descended, and everything is about to change... As the intense August heat cloaks the
chateau, the adults within start to lose sight of themselves. Old disputes are
thrown back and forth, tempers rise, morals loosen, and darkness begins to
creep around them all. Ruby and her two young friends soon discover it is best
not to be seen or heard as the summer spirals down to one fateful night and an
incident that can never be undone... Summer,
2010: One of the three young girls, now grown and newly widowed, returns to the
chateau, and in her fight to free herself from its grip, she uncovers what
truly happened that long, dark summer. With
riveting psychological complexity, The Ruins captures the glittering
allure of the Mediterranean, and the dark shadows that wait beneath the
surface. More information about the author and her work can be found on her website. You can also follow her on Twitter @phoebewynne and on Instagram @phoebewynnewrites
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