Make me care

The central question in storytelling may be, “How do I make the audience care about my characters?”

Dickens was the master at this. Take Oliver Twist: a poor orphan with a mysterious past running from abuse. Oh, Charles! I need to know what happens next!

J.K. Rowling followed in Dickens’s footsteps. All her success stems from the excellence of the first chapters of the first Harry Potter book. A poor orphan with a mysterious past escaping from abuse? I’m hooked. Oh wait. I’ve heard that song before.

So what’s the recipe for endearing characters? Well, clearly (1.) children (2.) mystery (3.) abuse.

This, of course, is silly. Sometimes I like characters because they are funny or because they are strong or because they are beautiful. They don’t all have to be mysterious wounded children. Take Rick in Casablanca—a pretty damn likable guy. And he’s the opposite of a child: cynical, womanizing, standoffish.

But when I reflect more deeply, I see that what I love about him are his childlike qualities. All his “adult” qualities are really childish defenses. Ilsa even calls this out: “You’re a child!” she cries.

And what is Rick’s core quality, underneath his defenses? What’s the fundamental thing I love about him? His childlike love for Ilsa. He even calls her “kid.” It turns out that what I love most about Rick is the wounded child within him.

And that’s the real recipe for endearing characters. They can be any age, but I can’t love them, not really, if I don’t see the child within them. And if that child has been roughed up, that’s even better. And a mysterious past never hurts.

Then again, likability is itself a mystery, and maybe I’m a fool to pretend I understand even part of it.