Kristian Mercer

What Makes a Hero?

Sometimes - like tonight, when I'm procrastinating and not pounding away at my WIP - I worry about my hero.

Well, to be honest, I've been worrying about him (in a very tiny, very dark corner of my mind) for a few months now.

So what's wrong with him? At first glance, not much. He's tall and blond and attractive in a rather severe, hard-angled sort of way; at times my heroine compares him to one of those statues of Crusader knights. He possesses the magickal ability to control fire, which he takes very seriously. He's a duke.

(Yes, it's true there weren't that many dukes running around during the Regency, and my hero probably should have been an earl, but he told me he was a duke. And I believed him.)

Even his name - Justin - sounds rather heroic. According to Jo Beverley, who spoke about the importance and power of names at RWA Nationals this year, it is generally the "harder" consonants - like T, K, D, and G - that sound strong to our ears. But the consonant J - as in Justin - also makes the cut.

And of course he has goals, and motivations, and plenty of conflict to overcome - both in regard to his own character development and his relationship with the heroine.

Sounds great, right? I thought so, too. But one of the Royal Ascot judges observed - quite kindly, let me add - that Justin wasn't as heroic as he could be. That he appeared (ahem) rather weak. That he isn't a hero just because he's tall and gorgeous and can put out fires with the wave of his hand.

Well, of course not. And I knew that. But what does make a good hero? What is it, besides their looks and irresistible charm and prowess (of all sorts)?

I found my answer rather serendipitously - which is, of course, the best way to discover what it is that you really want to know. As I mentioned in my previous post, I've long been a fan of Jo Beverley's Malloren books. For some reason - and I don't really know why - I didn't pick up one of her "Company of Rogues" books until a few weeks ago. I decided to start at the beginning of the series, with An Arranged Marriage.

I was about 2/3 of the way through the book when I was struck by a sense of familiarity. It wasn't that I had read the book before and was just then realizing it; it was more that the scene resonated with me. A kind of literary echo, as it were.

The same thing happened when I first read Illusion by Jean Ross Ewing, who is now writing beautifully lush historicals under the name of Julia Ross. In both these novels, the heroes are called upon to act as spies for the British government. They undertake tasks that compromise everything they hold dear - their integrity, their honor, and their love for the heroine. Their black moments are among the darkest you'll ever find.

What else do these novels have common? Both authors regard Francis Crawford of Lymond (the protagonist of Dorothy Dunnett's The Lymond Chronicles) as the ultimate romantic hero.

It's worth quoting in full what Jo Beverley has to say about Lymond: he's a "gorgeous, sexy, intellectually brilliant, artistically gifted, supreme leader of men, and deadly with bare hands or weapons. This is romance in the high manner as well, as he suffers torments, fights evil, and affects the fate of nations."

Julia Ross adds that Lymond "echos an archetype, and a recognition of that rings somewher e deep in the unconscious. He has numinous power. He offers the chance for mystical union. He's both the Other and the Self."

Well. Intense enough for you?

But it's all true. Lymond IS one of the most charismatic characters you'll ever find. He's beautiful, and he's brilliant, and he's very good at making you believe what he wants you to believe - so good, in fact, that you may not like him very much. And then he's forced to make such difficult choices that your heart flips over and you agonize right along with him.

It took me a while to succumb to his spell; when I read The Game of Kings, the first book in the series, I didn't appreciate Lymond much at all. There was something about him, though, that made me want to see what happened next. I went on to read Queen's Play - and by the end, I was completely hooked. I devoured the rest of the series and I must agree that the conclusion, Checkmate, is one of the best romances ever written.

So there's my touchstone. My heroic ideal. I can only dream about writing as well as Jo Beverley, Julia Ross, or Dorothy Dunnett, but at least now I know where to begin.