Why Context is Key in Character-Driven Narratives
Characters do not need to be likable to be compelling or carry a reader through a narrative. However, the reader must be given context to support their behaviour, and that context must plausibly support the result.
To demonstrate the power of context, let’s break a rule. One of the biggest taboos in storytelling is torture. The hero of a story cannot torture anyone. It’s a big line to cross and it’s asking a lot for a reader to continue supporting a protagonist through such a decision.
However, if the grounds are strong enough… if you take a reader on a journey through enough bad experiences and underdog moments, I’d argue that even torture can be an understandable, if unpleasant, result.
It comes down to context and plausibility: is the context of X and Y enough to plausibly support the action of Z?
Image by Lysander Yuen
Readers play an active role in the process of making a book. The characters are being presented to the reader and the reader will ultimately judge whether or not they pass the test. The test being plausibility; does the character stand true and consistent in the face of what’s thrown at them throughout the narrative?
A lot of writers talk about “motive” and “conflict” being the driving force behind a story, but neither of these stand up without context. Context gives depth to an issue, and how we present it depends on how we want the reader to feel about the characters and the decisions they’re making. In short, how we present context can make the villain of the story, the hero.
A great example of this is in the Planet Earth II natural history show. A now-famous scene took place where newly-hatched iguanas ran a deadly gauntlet through a swirling mass of snakes in order to reach safety and survive to adulthood*. The way it was shot made heroes of the iguanas - no surprise - and presented the snakes as a nightmarish obstacle.
However, one line from the narration stuck clearly in my mind:
“The snakes need feed just once a year, and this is their only opportunity for a meal.”
Now, that one sentence could have flipped the entire scenario on its head. If the narrative focussed on the snakes… on their long slow starvation as they awaited the iguana hatching… on their struggle to lay and protect their eggs… on the times they had to hide from predators and navigate their tangly social structures… if the narrative had singled out one snake, an individual that wasn’t the strongest or the fastest (due to it being born last from a clutch etc)... and lived the event through their eyes… I’m sure the audience would have been shouting for their hero snake to make the kill. Even if they didn’t like snakes.
A skilled writer can leverage context to make the impermissible, understandable.
Let’s create a character… let’s call them Becky. Becky the Tormentor.
Right, so Becky is torturing a character called… Liz. This is, by all moral standards, unacceptable and should place Becky squarely in the “villain” camp. But even Becky the Tormentor can be saved by context.
Context 1:
Becky is psychologically unstable and throughout the narrative we gain insight into her troubled mind.
If this context is plausible, the insight might elicit empathy (even sympathy if done really well), which could bring the reader to question their own psyche and the lines of morality they thought were clear in their minds.
Context 2:
Becky is otherwise psychologically sound, but Liz is a serial killer who murdered all of Becky’s family except one, and after four hundred and fifty pages of mind games Becky manages to capture Liz, only for Liz to refuse to reveal the location of Becky’s one surviving relative.
If done well enough the reader is likely to be alright with the idea of Becky using “persuasive” tactics in order to get answers. Becky is tired, the reader is tired and both of them want the narrative resolved.
What readers really struggle with is a flip in context.
Context 3:
Becky has been the classic hero, gaining allies and forging ties with a clear goal in mind. At the moment of achieving her goal, she takes her already-defeated adversary, ties them to a chair and slowly tears their nails off one by one.
Say what?
Daenerys Targaryen anyone? Audiences hated that twist. They felt that the context was too thin to support Daenerys’s actions; that it had been done for shock value alone because it was otherwise implausible for her to have behaved in that way. Yes we knew “madness” was a Targaryen trait, but she had presented as reasonably stable throughout her story arc, so was it really enough of a basis to support what happened?
The context was flimsy at best and therefore it lacked plausibility.
It’s easy to pull a narrative twist out of the bag if you disregard all context leading up to that moment… I mean, sure you can do it, but the danger is the reader will walk away feeling like everything they thought was true was, in fact, a lie. That the situation you presented to them was cohesive and believable, until something so implausible happened that it broke the illusion.
At the end of the book, it’s too late to rage-quit, but the rage is real.
So make sure your context supports the action. Make sure enough context is shared with the reader to bring them on board, and keep the level of your character’s actions and reactions plausible right up until the end.
When that key moment happens, you want your readers to be well informed and confident in the story... preferably before Becky the Tormentor straps Liz into a rack and prepares her electrodes.
I’m making an addition here.
A given context that lacks a plausible result is equally, if-not more, problematic. A traumatic event, like a near-death experience, the death of a loved one, or a sexual assault, needs to be followed-up with a plausible - preferably lasting - reaction.
*If you’ve not seen it, just search “iguana v snakes in planet earth II” and you should find ample clips, along with links to the voluntary organisations you’ll need in order to recover.