(Or: A discussion of motivation, methodology and conviction in your garden-variety Superhero, Hero and Antihero.)

Superheroes, heroes and antiheroes alike thrive in speculative literature these days. Captain America is receiving good reviews, a good deal of fandom is discussing the heroic Hobbit, and Game of Thrones…well, is there a ‘just plain heroic’ character in there?

But what’s the difference? All of them inspire us in one way or another. All have a very long laundry list of subtypes, examples, deviations and standards.

Editor Jennifer Brozek helped me come up with the perfect description. It even contains kittens!

Methodology: A Contrast

I didn't say how tall the tree was...

Your cat had kittens, and one of them got stuck up a tree. It’s been meowing pitifully, and the neighborhood has gathered around. Everyone’s looking to two people: Superhero Bob and Hero Jim.

“I’ll climb up and get him!” says Hero Jim. “Tell my wife I loved her, if I don’t come back.” The sentimental and romantic souls sigh at the pathos of his words.

“The kitten will just climb back up the tree,” says your good friend, Bill. “Although I’m not sure why you think you’d die. Should I put a trampoline under the tree?”

“I’ll just rip the tree out of the ground!” shouts Superhero Bob, thrusting his arms into the air. The crowd cheers. The sun reflects off of Bob’s bright, monochromatic clothing and perfectly-waved hair. “The kitten will never get stuck up this tree again, even though he’s stupid!”

“No, he’ll just get stuck up another tree, because he hasn’t learned anything,” mutters Bill.

Everyone looks at Bill. Bob snorts. “So, if you’re so smart, what are YOU suggesting? And what do you care? No one likes you, anyway.”

Bill shrugs. “She does,” he says, pointing at you. “And it’s a cat. It got up there. Put some food at the base of the tree and let it figure out how to get down again, and it won’t do the same thing tomorrow.”

Villain Marscapone hefts his BB gun, cackling. “I’ll get that kitten out of the tree.”

Bill looks at Marscapone. “No you won’t,” he says, and knocks Marscapone out with one solid punch. But the gun goes off, and the kitten gets it in the leg. Yowling piteously, he tumbles out of the tree. Bill catches him easily.

“Better put the stupid cat out of its misery,” says Bob.

Bill gives him a dirty look, cradles the kitten in his arms and walks away. A month or so later, he answers the door to Bob, who’s come over for poker. The kitten, healthy and mewing noisily, comes galloping into the house from the garden.

Bill shrugs at Bob’s dirty look. “She’s never gotten stuck in another tree. But you might want to stop putting kittens in trees.”

At least Bob has the grace to redden.

The Super Man

The superhero believes that everyone around them is inherently weak and in need of saving. They will often engineer situations where they can shine and save the day. They also frequently treat the people around them as tools and pawns, riding over them roughshod to serve their own agenda. Iron Man is a perfect example of this, as is Batman. Yeah, they’ve got all the advantages in the world, but along the way, they have often lost their humanity.

Night Owl: “We’re supposed to make the world a better place!”
Ozymandius: “That’s what I’m doing.”

The Hero

A hero is, at their best, a servant and defender. They believe that the strong must care for the weak. Paladins, the ideal knight, the champion. A classic hero will happily lay down their life for a cause, a belief, honor or the safety of the people around them.

The hero archetype doesn’t needlessly rush into danger, like the superhero, but they don’t avoid it, either. If it needs to be done, it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences.

Terry Pratchett’s Tiffany Aching is a wonderful example of a hero. A child when her story begins, she does what she needs to, facing incredible odds and enemies that would terrify a person three times her age and experience.

(Seriously though, read this book.)

“What are my weapons?” she thought. And the answer came to her instantly: Pride. Oh, you hear them say it is a sin; you hear them say it goes before a fall. And that can’t be true. The blacksmith prides himself on a good weld; the carter is proud that his horses are well turned out…we pride ourselves on making a good history of our lives, a good story to be told. And I also have fear–the fear that I will let others down–and because I have fear, I will overcome that fear.” ~Terry Pratchett’s Tiffany Aching

The Antihero

The antihero is the wild card. They don’t fight for country ideal. More than likely, any heroics they do, they’ve been dragged into, kicking and screaming. Or at least with a few pithy, well-aimed comments. They often have crazy amounts of personal baggage, dark histories, and a shattered personal life.

The interesting thing about the antihero is that they are the least likely to become a villain. The line between superhero and supervillain is very, very thin; the difference between hero and villain is often simply which side they are on. The antihero is independent, and not likely to be led down the wrong path by force of belief. If they do find themselves working against whatever code they serve, they are much more likely to simply correct their path back to where they prefer to be.

“…But I’m not gallant enough. Nor valiant enough. I’m not suited to be a soldier or a hero. And having an acute fear of pain, mutilation and death is not the only reason. You can’t stop a soldier from being frightened, but you can give him motivation to help him overcome his fear. I have no such motivation. I can’t have. I’m a witcher: an artificially created mutant…and even if the world lies in ruin–which does not seem likely to me–I’ll carry on killing monsters in the ruins of this world until some monster kills me. That is my fate, my reason, my life and my attitude to the world. And it is not what I chose. It was chosen for me…But I don’t want to die in a war, because they’re not my wars.” ~Andrjez Sapkowski’s Witcher

The antihero isn’t necessarily a ‘good’ person. They can be like the Watchmen’s Rorschach: a psychopath who has no apparent good in them. The Witcher isn’t bad, but he’s certainly no angel, either. Antiheroes can be that person who, at the tensest point in the book, stands up and says ‘Oh, enough of this’ as they go on to save the world.

Sword and Sorcery in particular is well-versed in the usefulness of the antihero as a character. Sometimes, the heroism is somewhat accidental, or even debatable. Ari Marmell’s Corvis Rebaine was known as ‘the conqueror of the East’, and had thousands of deaths at his door…in the prologue. Elric of Melnibone: not someone you’d want to bring home to Mom. T.A. Pratt’s Marla Mason is a ruthless bitch, but she saves her city over, and over, and over. David Gemmell’s characters are often scarred and have a significant amount of innocent blood on their hands.

The antihero has their own code, their own path. As literary devices, they allow the author to explore so much more than just right and wrong, good and bad. All the shades between are open to us, too. This character challenges us, and challenges the reader, too.

What, as a reader, do you like in your heroes? What do you think about the antihero? When you write, what sort of character calls to you?