Donn Taylor
It's
no surprise that we writers learn much from literary classics, but in this blog
I'll look at the way one classic handles a problem we have to deal with in
every story, namely, the problem of portraying evil. For even the most escapist
romantic fantasy must portray some degree of evil. Without it, there can be no
conflict, and conflict is the most essential ingredient of fiction.
In
Book I of his epic romance, The Fairie
Queene, Edmund Spenser (1552-1599) provides an astute and subtle treatment
of evil. Book I tells how the Redcrosse Knight (St. George) grew to become the Knight of Holiness. His mission is to go with the lady
Una (Truth, una vera fides, the One
True Faith) to slay a great dragon that is terrorizing her land. In the
beginning he believes his own virtues give him strength enough to cope with
evil, but a series of failed encounters teach him differently.
The
figures of evil who divert Redcrosse are the woman Duessa (Falsehood) and Archimago,
the Satanic maker of false images. Deceived by images of Una being unfaithful,
Redcrosse deserts both her and his mission. Believing that his strength comes
from his own virtue, he is led by Duessa into the House of Pride. From there he
descends yet further until he encounters Despair, who shows him the half-truth of his own worthlessness,
suggesting suicide. But Una (the full
Truth, including redemption through Christ) reappears and leads him through
repentance to redemption in The House of Holiness. What he learns there equips
him to fight the dragon.
Even
then, Redcrosse falls several times during the three-day combat. But each time
he falls, he comes back with greater strength until, at length, he kills the
dragon. One might expect then a denouement with all problems solved and
everything in harmony.
But
it is what the realistic Spenser actually does then that holds most interest
for us as writers. There is no happily-ever-after. There is only
better-than-things-were-before. Yes, some problems have been solved. That particular
dragon is dead. The evil image-maker, Archimago, is in prison. (Internally,
this allegorizes the supremacy of Reason over the false images of Imagination.)
But Duessa (Falsehood) is still loose in the world. And Redcrosse must labor in
that world for seven years before the marriage of Truth and Holiness can occur.
Spenser knew that in this world our victories over particular
evils are always temporary, never final. We can only beat evil back until the
next encounter. To avoid giving our readers false expectations, then, we should
follow Spenser's example and never portray evil as completely defeated. For
evil will never suffer total defeat until the Second Coming.
In
my novel The Lazarus File, for
example, the conspiracy between Colombian drug lords, guerrillas, and
Soviet/Cuban subversion fails. Hero and heroine go on to new lives. But the
primary drug lord remains unscathed and in full operation. In that novel's
sequel, Deadly Additive, the
terrorist attack is prevented, but the godfather of international black market
arms sales remains at large.
The
writer's objective, then, should be to provide a satisfactory solution to the
immediate problem and give the reader a sense of aesthetic closure, yet leave a
thread of evil for someone to deal with in the future. For Duessa is very much
loose in our world today, and Archimago has apparently escaped from prison.
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