Saving Grace… on xenia, hospitality laws, and the cats that need saving
by Damon Suede
Building the reader connection to your
characters is critical, especially with your leads.
When I first started writing movies and
theatre, likability came up a lot in meetings and story conferences.
Nervous producers would insist that audiences preferred likable
characters, and entire projects would be overhauled to amplify
likability. Of course, plenty of affable starring roles tank hard at
the box office, so the studio-lot rationale is shaky. Being likable
doesn’t make a person fascinating or empathetic.
Happily, in one of my first big film
gigs, a producer I loved complained about a script her studio had
purchased. “I can’t stand the heroine. She’s so” — she made a cat’s
ass face— “Likable.”
She made it sound like a fart in a closed elevator. “I can’t connect
with this chick at any point. Who likes Hannibal Lecter? Who wants
to hang out with Medea? What I want is
accessibility.”
We may not
like dark or deranged
characters, but if we can access them we will empathize. Your
characters can be repugnant, vicious, or bizarre, but if they are
fascinating, readers will
pay attention. At the end of the day, paying attention sells tickets
and builds hits.
By definition,
perfection cannot change
so a character who starts out perfect gives a writer nowhere to go.
Perfection paralyzes and excludes. For best results, don't serve up
paragons to whom no one can relate. Instead give them access to
fascinating people who live on every page.
If you want folks to feel something, to
pay attention, to rave about your stories, you have to give them a
point of entry.
Invite your readers to the party.
People read fiction for an emotional
experience. Your entire job is to create ample opportunities for
strong feelings, provocative relationships, and deep empathy for
your characters.
The best characters
feel real to their
readers. Of course that doesn't mean they are real, even if they
draw upon reality, but rather that they evoke emotions and insight
that change real lives. Their impact extends beyond their pages.
How exactly?
Creating that instinctive empathy is a
simple as looking at the roots of civilization and our own
childhoods. Many anthropologists argue that the core of all human
law and culture derives from the ancient rule of hospitality…what
the Greeks called
Xenia.
In the most literal sense,
Xenia translates as
hospitality or
“guest-friendship" although most commonly it is understood as the
core principles of courtesy, generosity, and graciousness shoring up
all human interactions. Xenia is the reason we don't cheat at games
or murder our guests at dinner no matter how annoying they are.
Xenia is why we bring gifts to parties, bow when we meet our
betters, and say thank you for kindness. Xenia is the “right thing”
we all know we need to do, with which we struggle, for which we’re
grateful.
The closest synonym in modern, everyday
English would be
grace, in the sense of kindness, compassion,
consideration, and gratitude…in the sense of personal prudence and
social balance. When people “say grace” at the table, they give
thanks for what they have.
All hospitality starts with reciprocal,
cooperative gratitude.
Remember being a kid and whining, “It’s
not fair!” at nearby adults? Xenia is the fairness we all
complained about and pined for as children, the basic moral balance
that civilized folks hope to see and try to ensure) structures the
world we inhabit. Xenia is why cannibalism, incest, child murder,
and other betrayals of innocence horrify folks across cultural
lines. Xenia is why we give to charity, shelter strangers, and keep
our promises. Our sense of grace is hardwired in us.
According to Xenia, the act of giving or
accepting hospitality creates an unbreakable contract between host
and guest, ruler and subject, parent and child. The careful balance
must be maintained by both parties and the first to renege is
permanently stained thereby. Violating this agreement is seen as the
most grievous sin in almost every human culture. This prohibition is
so primal that as humans we expect (even demand) punishment for
those who violate it.
In that way hospitality is the root of
all empathy: gracious characters will always attract our attention.
For the ancients, hospitality laws
offered a simple way to maintain social order. In the abstract,
Xenia was a way to cover your butt when gods went around in disguise
making trouble for humans. That beggar on the corner might be an
Olympian in mortal drag. In practical terms, Xenia presents a great
way to encourage general civility in an era when might made right
and war meant fame and money. It balances the cultural scales. Yes
you want to be renowned for your great deeds, but not for being a lying,
thieving jerk.
Of course, Xenia extends far beyond the
cultural confines of ancient Greece. it’s enshrined in Hammurabi's
code as “an eye for an eye.” In India it’s “Atithi Devo Bhava,” in Hebrew
“hachnasat orchim,” It’s a
reciprocal expansion of the Golden Rule that weaves the social
compact: do unto others and they
must do
unto you in kind.
Xenia is so hardwired into our worldview
that it dictates all of our stories and our preconceptions about
people and their just desserts. How do we know that tormented ugly
ducklings in a comedy will get a makeover and a mate? Why does an
audience cheer when misers are bankrupted and gold-hearted hookers
get justice? Xenia is our most ancient character metric,
telegraphing who's going to win and who's going to go down in
flames. We love seeing underdogs prevail and bullies beaten to a
pulp.
In other words:
instant audience empathy, just add xenia and stir.
Globally, legends and fairytales enshrine
the rules of hospitality and define protagonists and villains based
on their adherence to it. Even the sneakiest protagonists respect
and enforce Xenia. Robin Hood is a shameless thief and a political
terrorist, but he does so in service of Xenia…so he gets a pass. The
Artful Dodger steals to survive as a child in the roughest part of
London. Han Solo may be a smuggler but he pays his debts and
acknowledges the honor among thieves. Katniss Everdeen poaches to
feed her family and slaughters to survive. Above all else, xenia is
fair.
The same is true of the dark side.
Anytime you want audiences to loathe a character just let them
violate xenia, often and
awfully. Wicked stepmothers excite hatred because they break faith
with their new families and target their charges. Cheaters, liars,
and cravens earn our contempt by their refusal to show basic
graciousness. And almost every monster in mythology is created by an
abuse of hospitality laws and continues to undermine hospitality by
their very existence. That’s why Dr. Frankenstein is the real
monster for robbing graves and violating the natural order, but his
Creature is mostly a tragic figure. That’s why Gollum suffers so
much, Thorin dies in agony, and Bilbo makes it home in style. Even
the most minor breaches of Xenia create anxiety in an audience:
But… if you hope to redeem that rake or
give your sociopath a heart, you’ll have to find a way to let them
show hospitality and reinforce basic social grace. Otherwise, why
are Tony Soprano and Lestat so damn charming? How else does Hannibal
Lecter charm and court Clarice Starling so easily during their
asylum interviews? The audience will forgive anything in direct
proportion to the xenia on offer.
Blake Snyder famously described this kind
of necessary narrative grace as the heroic impulse to "save the cat"
in service of audience empathy. Savvy writers bake that into the
narrative cake as early as possible so we know who to root for. We
know that the world doesn't always work the way it should, and
fiction lets us play with the tension between the personal desire
for glory and our primal duty of hospitality.
Audiences track xenia within and between
characters, as a measure of just desserts. They track it
subconsciously and relentlessly and they are pitiless about it.
-
Protagonist honors
xenia without fail,
and helps others do the same.
-
Antagonist violates
xenia, often and
awfully. (ergo, redemption requires careful planning)
-
Secondary characters waver in xenia
(which limits identification…cool trick! )
-
Antiheroes walk a fine line, like xenia
acrobats… they seem to breach xenia but actually don’t.
Weigh the good and the bad within your
characters and between your characters. Audiences track these
details, both as an unconscious sense and a logical measure of a
character’s value and values. Xenia works in any genre, context, and
relationship…because the audience demands it. Violate it at your
peril!
By the same token, look for ways to amp
the xenia your protagonist shows in all of their actions. Readers
believe what they see. Show them true xenia, and they’ll follow that
character off a cliff.
Originally published as a lecture for Romance University.
If you wish to republish this article, just drop me a line.
