Guest post: Character vs Caricature

Today’s absolutely fascinating and brilliant post is curtesy of my dear friend, fellow Red Dead Online posse member, and reader Sydney Stokoe!

I first met Sydney by chance over on Twitter, where she’d just finished listening to my Lucky Logan audiobooks and had tagged me in a post saying how much she enjoyed them. From the first time I read her comment about my books “keeping her yeehaw meter filled”, I could tell she must have an awesomely fun personality! 😉

I invited her to join my Discord server, and I am so very happy she accepted that invite, because ever since then, she’s been one of the most active members in the group, and we’ve embarked on a whole lot of virtual shenanigans together, plus had more than a few amazing, in-depth conversations about books and story.

Not only has Sydney been an incredible help to me in working on the Lucky Logan series with her consistent voting in my various polls and with her stellar feedback as a beta reader, but I’d also now consider her to be, as I mentioned above, a dear friend! I am so happy to have met her! 😀

Today, I can’t wait to share with you one such in-depth book discussion that was had on the Discord server. Sydney was kind enough to share this write-up with the rest of us, and I loved it so very much I asked if I could also share it here, on my blog. She happily agreed! And so without further ado, I present to you: Character vs Caricature, by Sydney Stokoe…

PS: As editor (mehehe) I have taken the liberty to add some bold to the sections I felt were most important, and to add a few gifs and images to the article…

---

I’ve been chewing on this idea for a bit so buckle up for the cowboy-themed Comp Lit analysis that nobody asked for (I didn’t even ask for this… this just happened.) What I want to deep dive into is what I’m going to refer to as the difference between a Character and a Caricature within the context of fiction. 

I’ve noticed in my various forays into fiction that characters in books can be placed into one of two categories. I’m not referring to character archetypes… there are loads of different archetypes that a character might fall into. I’m talking more about the way in which a character is developed in a narrative, and the purpose that that character serves in the storytelling. 

There are those who serve to be a representation of a person that you can relate to (we’ll call this a “character”), and those who serve as a representation of an agenda that the author is trying to communicate (we’ll call this a “caricature”). I’m not here to say that one is better than the other, but I think that understanding the differences in these two character construction methods has helped me to understand why some pieces of fiction hit me harder than others. Am I about to compare a piece of highly regarded American literature to a video game? Yes. Yes I am. Hold onto your hats, cowboys.

I just finished reading “The Brave Cowboy” by Edward Abbey. I’ve also spent an inordinate amount of time playing Red Dead Redemption 2 this year. (It’s been a cowboy-filled year). This will include a general discussion of the ending of both the book and the game, because it’s fairly critical to this analysis, but I don’t feel like it really spoils much, as the book is less about “plot points” as such, and more about drumming up a specific existential experience in the reader, and the ending of the game is very well known at this point. 

(EDITOR’S NOTE: That means SPOILERS AHEAD, though probably not MAJOR spoilers, unless you’ve been living under a rock for a few years now, or don’t particularly care about video games. Even if you don’t care about video games though, you should keep reading, because this is a REALLY GOOD analysis…)

The Brave Cowboy, and Edward Abbey:

Abbey is an acclaimed American author whose focus was primarily on wilderness preservation, preventing degradation of nature by the forces of industry, and the damage that rampant capitalism has done on our natural spaces and freedoms. He’s written a bunch of books centred around land management, government oversight of public lands, and the changing landscape of “The West” as the expansion and entrenchment of civilization took root in America in the mid-century. He published most of his books in the 50’s-70’s, and passed away in 1989. He was unequivocally an anti-government anarchist, a staunch environmentalist, and a cantankerous old bastard by all accounts. He has an agenda that he is trying to convey through his stories. Whether or not you agree with his politics isn’t important here, it’s recognizing the stance that he has and how that impacts his storytelling. 

The Brave Cowboy centres around a man, Jack Burns. Burns is a loner. He rambles across the American West on his horse with a guitar and a rifle slung on his saddle, bouncing from job to job, largely unconcerned with the grander comings and goings of the world. The interesting thing here, though, is that Burns isn’t so much a “character” in the traditional sense, as he is a representation of the American West, or as I would put it, a caricature. In fact, Abbey refers to him as “The Cowboy” as much as he does by name, seemingly disassociating the man from his humanity simply in this reference structure. His actions and decisions are designed to serve as allegory and metaphor rather than the story of a man. I don’t know anything about his motivations as a person… not really. He’s an anarchist, and a draft dodger, but seemingly more out of apathy than out of conscientious objection. His history is vague, his relationships with others are open-ended, and his motivations beyond political allegory are hard to pin down. As a “man,” he seems to float around the world without any real individual motivation. He starts the book a lonesome wanderer and continues to wander lonesome-ly through the story. He doesn’t really grow at all as a character… he just kind of… is. 

At the end of the book, I’m not invested in the fate of Burns in particular, as much as I am interested in what the fate of Burns means for America. He dies bloody on the highway, killed by the representation of industrialization of America, because this is the only way it can end. There is no other ending that makes sense. In fact, It’s pretty apparent that this end is coming from about midway through the book, when they introduce the character of a semi-truck driver who is otherwise unrelated to the plot. Lo and behold, our protagonist’s journey is ended by the violent clash of modernity against the freedom of old world living. There was only one way it could end based on the emotion Abbey was trying to stir up. Semi truck driver = capitalist industrialism, Cowboy = AMERICA. Look at how our greed and consumerist lust brings about the downfall of America. Despite the dramatic ending, it still isn’t Burn’s that we are mourning at the end…it’s more the concept of what he represents. In fact, I’m not even sure that I fully mourned the concept of Burns in the end, because I don’t necessarily ascribe to Abbey’s personal political philosophy, and therefore the whole thing rang a little hollow for me. Perhaps back in my yeehaw-anarchy-hipster days (that’s a thing right?), this would have hit a little harder, but I’ve grown into a capitalist conformist with a mortgage, an office job, and a station wagon, so maybe I no longer fit the target audience.

Red Dead Redemption 2:

Let’s compare what we just talked about, for example, to the writing of RDR2. RDR2 is also set in the changing landscape of the American West in a time of turmoil, albeit fifty years earlier. It’s also centred on a man, Arthur Morgan, who is an outlaw/cowboy making his way through a changing world. On the surface, the two tales share a lot. Both main characters are trying to make sense of their changing world, both are unable to coexist with modern society, and both suffer tragic ends. Both are stand-ins for “America” as a concept. 

The big difference here is that our protagonist in RDR2 is more than just a stand in … the way in which he is written, he is developed as a person, with thoughts, feelings, and motivations all his own. He experiences growth and change over the course of his arc, and this growth is what solidifies him as a whole human in the eyes of the reader (or player, in this case.) He has his ideas of the world challenged, he has to rethink his own reality, his loyalties, and what he believes to be good and right. The relationships he has with the other characters is complex and nuanced. Each of these characters has deep human flaws. When they suffer loss, that loss is seen and felt. They each have their own motivations, and that motivation, while perhaps serving the greater metaphor of the dying west, is also visible as a part of the human experience.

By the end of RDR2, it felt like I was watching a friend die. I shed an actual tear when Arthur said goodbye to his horse. When the game ended, I just sat there and stared at the screen, not sure what to do with myself. I think that video games in particular have a unique power in this way because the character development of the playable character is determined by the player (to a degree), which deepens the connection and creates a more “real” bond with the characters of the game. I think this translates into literature as well. The stories that have stuck with me over the years were those that didn’t limit their characters to be stand-ins for ideology, but allowed for the human condition to define their characters. The metaphoric or allegorical role of these characters is more of a backdrop that the human elements are transposed onto, rather than the focal point. 

So what does it all mean:

I recognize that different media types can’t be directly compared, but what’s interesting to me is that I feel like the thesis of the pieces are the same. At the root of each story, America is changing, and those who once had their place in the “wildness” of the west are no longer welcome. Both tales are centred around the seeming futility of anarchist ideals in the face of advancing industry. Both see their ideals steamrolled by the onward march of progress. The difference is that I don’t care about Jack Burns in particular. He isn’t a person, he’s an ideology. But I care deeply about Arthur Morgan. I care because I’ve seen his character progress over a developed arc. I’ve seen him grow as a person even in the face of, and perhaps because of, his own impending doom. 

Both narrative styles can work, but the reader gets something very different out of each. In Abbey’s story, what I get is the overarching melancholy of the changing world. The feeling is more diffuse. There is a level of disconnect between myself and the characters that isn’t quite bridged. Because I’m not fully invested in Abbey’s politics, I’m less invested in the result of the story. Burns’ tale is tragic, sure, but that tragedy is tempered by the storytelling itself. He dies in the end because of course he did. How could it be any other way? He represents a lost America. In no way can he survive the telling of the tale.

In RDR2, I care deeply for each individual member of the story. They each have character arcs with beginnings, middles, and ends, and have motivations of real people. These characters are transposed over a similar landscape to Abbey’s story… the world is changing and there is no place for them, but they also seem to exist beyond the confines of the written story. Rather than the diffuse political melancholy, I feel a deep tragedy for the circumstance of people that I have become very invested in.

RDR2 is a political allegory as well. It’s a tale of the weight of power, the tragedy of circumstance, about the changing face of a new century and the impacts that those changes have on the people living through it. More than that though, it’s a story about humanity, relationships, and understanding ourselves and our purpose. It’s Arthur’s journey that allows for the lives of the surviving characters to go on. There is purpose to his sacrifice, and his sacrifice is made possible through his personal growth through the story. It’s beautiful on so many levels and I think that one of it’s greatest strengths as a narrative is that it doesn’t limit itself to being character-driven or allegorical. It’s both simultaneously. 

I’m a very character-driven reader (editors note: *cough*cough* SO AM I!!); perhaps that’s obvious by the accidental essay I just vomited out… sorry not sorry. I enjoyed The Brave Cowboy, but I enjoyed it in a very different way than I enjoyed RDR2.  I thought the writing was beautiful. Abbey paints a gorgeous picture of the landscapes of New Mexico and Arizona in the 1950’s. He gave us a glimpse at the feelings of existential melancholy related to what he saw and the unstoppable change to the world he knew. His prose is well-crafted, and I felt like I was sitting in the desert with his level of detail he put into describing the landscape, but it doesn’t feel like a story about real people. When I think of stories that I will return to… stories that have a deeper impact on me, it’s those with characters who feel real, who are balanced, and richly explored. When I reach for fiction, more often than not I want to spend my time with People, not Ideology. I liked The Brave Cowboy, don’t get me wrong… but I loved RDR2. For me, creating a story where the characters keep me invested, grounded, and engaged allows for a more powerful experience overall. 

Honestly, I could go on for literal days about how caricaturization (if it wasn’t a word before, it is now) seems to be a common theme in Beat generation writers. I don’t know if Abbey counts as a Beat writer, but he was a disenfranchised post-war author so close enough.  

I read a lot of Beat classics back in my younger years when I was trying desperately to make sense of the world. At the time I felt like I had to eschew an enjoyable story and a relatable character in favour of a politically driven narrative in order to “be a good reader”. In retrospect, I hung out with too many philosophy majors in first year undergrad and desperately wanted to fit in. (I was cool for five whole minutes in 2009 and it was not worth it). I may have read a LOT back then, but I can’t say that any of those “deep, important” pieces of literature really resonated with me.

Eventually I realized that the things that have stuck with me over the years are the ones that managed to connect the human element within the story to the human element within the real world.

Humans are social creatures, and human stories connect us with ourselves and with each other. 

---

Sydney spends much of her time drinking coffee, reading books, and going outside. She played her first video game last year and is trying to make up for lost time. She is an accidental collector of owl-shaped objects, and loves all mediums of storytelling.

(Editor’s note: Sydney is also Canadian (so don’t blame me for that spelling! lol), works in/with prosthetics (y’all can thank her entirely for me knowing how to properly explain Van’s mechanical leg come book 3…), and let’s all give her a standing ovation for that TEDTalk-style dissertation! Hope you loved it as much as I did! <3)

PS: If you wanna join us over on the Discord for more great discussions around storytelling and other stuff, you can find the invite link over on the sidebar there —–>

---