On the Use of Absolutes, Part 3: Wielding with Authority
Absolutist thinking affects characterization and “story” as well. To put it simply, different characters in the same novel can and likely should have similar characteristics—they are likely to be in the same milieu, etc.—but they shouldn’t be exactly the same.
To use a slightly salacious example, I once edited a book about a vigilante who fights against the Mexican cartels, all of whose members shared an affinity for inflicting pain during sex. Now, I’m not saying this is not right for some of the characters, or that sadism is not a common urge. But not all gang-bangers are sadists; some might be masochists, while some might be very vanilla or shy in bed, while still others might be especially tender, etc. Human sexuality is a complex phenomenon. Members of violent cartels are no exception.
To use a slightly salacious example, I once edited a book about a vigilante who fights against the Mexican cartels, all of whose members shared an affinity for inflicting pain during sex. Now, I’m not saying this is not right for some of the characters, or that sadism is not a common urge. But not all gang-bangers are sadists; some might be masochists, while some might be very vanilla or shy in bed, while still others might be especially tender, etc. Human sexuality is a complex phenomenon. Members of violent cartels are no exception.
Of course, the point of all of this discussion is not to be uptight about “proper usage,” whatever that means. No, the point is to suggest ways for you, the practitioner, to write better. For instance, I would be more interested in the character of a violent cartel member, who after slowly dissolving an enemy in a vat of poisonous chemicals, subsequently goes home to his wife and proves himself to be a gentle, coy lover. This unanticipated aspect of the gangbanger's personality plays on my expectations as a reader in a satisfying way.
There is great pleasure in complexity. As I wrote in another place, "We read literature to commune in the complexity of our shared humanity, in order to feel less alone, even when we’re reading for entertainment or edification. We don’t want simplicity, because we don’t see that in ourselves.” The article in which I wrote that line regarded how authors should, “tease out the telling details of their story.” In other words, you can often find this complexity—these new possibilities for your story—in the material that you have already written.
As I suggested at the end of Part 1 on absolutes, when wielded correctly (read: sparingly), absolutes can be extremely powerful. To give another example, the leader of the cartel in the book mentioned above was, publicly, a major figure in the Mexican government; he was leading the criminal group from behind the scenes. But this character himself pledged allegiance to yet another figure; a shadowy, mystical, physically deformed mastermind.
The author had described their working dynamic as a sort of give and take (you’ll have to take my word for this, since this novel has yet to be published—unfairly, in my opinion—but apparently, traditional professional, or “office place,” codes of conduct breaks down at the rarified level of international criminal enterprise leadership). My note to the author was that these two should have more of a master/ slave relationship. They should not be equals or partners. The deformed evil genius behind the scenes should be the charismatic public leader’s absolute guide in all matters theological, moral, political, military, etc.
The filmmaker George Lucas understood this lesson well. And while it is certainly true that Star Wars is filled with give-and-take relationships between superiors and their underlings—think of Luke Skywalker and Yoda on Dagobah in The Empire Strikes Back—Lucas was not afraid to describe more brutal dynamics. Indeed, compare Luke and Yoda’s relationship with another one at the heart of the series: that between the Emperor and Darth Vader.
In the case of Star Wars, it’s plausible that Lucas described these relationships in such a manner to make a comment on the nature of good and evil, or less abstractly, to benefit the story. The “good guys”—Luke and Yoda— have a more democratic, dialectic, dynamic, while the “bad guys”—Darth Vader and The Emperor—have a more authoritarian, top-down, dynamic. By giving the good guys these sets of characteristics, and the bad guys the other set of characteristics, Lucas was commentating on which set of characteristics he thought was better.
More to the point, using them as a kind of tool, Lucas wielded the power of “absolutes” to more clearly define what he was trying to say. You, the practitioner, should understand the power of this tool in your own storytelling.