A Proper Villain

So, in continuation of the thoughts of yesterday, I have realized that I don't think I can write a proper villain.

I've always had some issues with my novel's villain. It's a fantasy novel; he should be dripping with evil, though charming. I have these requirements of him, but that's about all he is at the moment. Actually, all he happens to be is charming. I don't know how to write evil. I can't get into that mindframe at all.

For one, I don't genuinely believe in human evil. There are evil acts, but I don't believe any human is evil. Technically, this character is not exactly human, but he's humanoid, and that's a problem for my imagination.

So how do I write this evil character? I'm not sure. If I really try to get into it, will it make me a bit batty or evil myself? CS Lewis was clear that in writing The Screwtape Letters from the point of view of a demon he risked losing something of himself. Getting into the mindset of a demon tainted him, and he had to work hard to get it out.

So do I indulge in my evil sides so that I can become this character when I write him the way I do my other characters? Or do I risk inauthenticity? I don't know.

Here's a fabulous Toni Morrison quote that I can't help but share in reflecting on the risks of writing about evil: "[C]haracters make claims, impose demands of imaginative accountability over and above the author's will to contain them."

Retiring the Soul

I was just watching National Geographic's "Science of Evil," and one of the researchers being interviewed suggested that research about how the brain works is going to put the soul out of a job because we know that evil choices are just neurons firing, and circumstance influences our morality.

His thought on this was that if people don't believe their souls will continue on, they will make their choices in the present moment, and this could be a good thing. In his view, things like suicide bombing won't happen if we didn't have the continuing soul as a sort of parachute to protect the perpetrator from his or her own act. Even though their body dies, they can be confident that the soul will live on after their act. Without a soul, people won't have motivation to face martyrdom.

I can see his point, but I don't think it's fully thought out. I actually think it reflects the particular researcher's scientific inclination to despise religion. In contrast, I think many people's fear of consequences for their souls prevent self-indulgent behaviors that could harm others. The desire to do good for the soul is also a motivator for good.

In other words, we might gain some good by giving up the soul, but we would lose some as well. It might be a wash.