Let’s talk about our imaginary friends and their companions, both the ones you read about and the ones you create yourself — what makes us love them? What distinguishes the puppies in the window, one from another, that gives them a claim on us?
Since I imagine we’ll all have a lot to say, I’ll start off with mine, and then turn it over to everyone.
What I get emotionally involved with a character (animal, vegetable, alien), I don’t care about his childhood, his unfortunate/terrific appearance, his various complaints, his special traits, his demographic representation — none of that. Wherever he came from, whatever he has suffered or prospered from, whatever he’s made out of… I want to learn him through what he does and why he does it. Without choices and action, he isn’t alive to me.
Now, there are certainly minor characters who provide some liveliness to any story — the sarcastic friends, the comic reliefs, the sad victims that are rescued, the innocent children, the disobedient horse, the helpful shopkeeper… but these aren’t the characters I’m talking about. You may be happy to see them put in an appearance (think of Cozies), but they’re not main characters — they’re not who the story is about.
For me, this takes on a sort of moral flavor. The characters I love in any sort of story face tough choices, and it’s often possible for them to take an easier path or just decline the option. The tough choices may be caused by their own errors or naivete, or they may be forced onto them by circumstance, or malice, or their own plans that turn bad. Doesn’t matter — when the choice is upon them, what they choose, and why, and the price they’re willing to pay for it is what impresses me, and the benefits they generate on behalf of others besides just themselves are part of what endear them to me.
Mind you, sometimes they don’t succeed. Tragedy is the fate of all, at least in the form of death. But the intent to do the right thing is what builds that relationship with me, the willingness to strive and take on responsibilities. While I may chuckle at the antics of an occasional hapless villain, I don’t much care about what makes him tick.
Now, this is not necessarily realistic for modern stories about real humans, any more than fairy tales are realistic stories. But then, I admire traditional tales with their exemplars of proper behaviors and goals, and so I write in a compatible genre (SFF), and that sort of idealized version of heroes is what resonates most deeply with me, in the reading or in the writing.
What about you?
Mad Genius Club 
3 responses to “What makes you love a character?”
And when they don’t even know what the right choice is, they try anyway.
Or the repentant monster who knows what they are doing is wrong, but cannot find the way to stop it, yet try anyway.
Or the tragic antagonist who augers in catastrophicaly because they think they are doing right, but are so lot in their own minds they cannot see how wrong they are.
Yeah, I think it is true: what makes a character compelling is their moral arc. The great stories, that stick with you are myths and epics, not just catalogues of ‘today I got a bill, ate a sandwich and was a prick to someone’.
Even the memorable venal characters are memorable because of their moral arc, or rather their complete empty distain for anything resembling a moral arc.
Character growth. Someone who tries, or helps those who are trying (and know what they are doing). Someone who admits fear but powers on, or pauses to do a gut check as to why he or she is afraid, then adjusts the plan.
I like characters who start out doing the right thing for the wrong reason and end up doing the right thing for the right reason. Alverstoke in Frederica is probably the best book example coming to mind, but I think it was Sergio Leone and Clint Eastwood who first introduced me to the idea.
I also like characters who try really really hard not to be jerks, in situations when jerkishness comes easily. It was RL people, mostly friends and family but also some public figures, who taught me this originally, but again Georgette Heyer has an easy, obvious example in Gervase Frant, black belt in courtesy jujitsu, the hero of The Quiet Gentleman.
I like characters who just plain do cool stuff, which accounts for probably most of my own male leads.
I like character who feel a bit lost in the world they’re navigating, but keep trudging through the maze anyway, which accounts for probably most of my own female leads.
A character*trying* to do the right thing, for some kind of intelligible reason, is sort of a necessary but not sufficient prerequisite to me loving a character, like making sure all the candidate puppies have had their shots and come from a reputable breeder.