One of the hazards of being a fan of speculative fiction is the fact that the fanbases of such series are so passionately identified with various characters. While some authors, like J.R.R. Tolkien, were actually fairly fond of keeping most of the virtuous main characters alive, despite the high body count of their writings, other writers seem to revel in grim death. Judging from the wrath and massive denial on the parts of those who were upset to see Jon Snow treacherously killed by his erstwhile followers in the Night’s Watch after his large-scale strategic vision to raise a coalition of the willing, even if unsavory, against the forces of true evil. Yet at times people simply cannot rise above their longstanding rivalries and hatreds, particularly in light of generations of trouble, simply because an even more dangerous enemy is threatening. This is, after all, the tragedy that befell the Americas, in that the conquering Spanish (to give but one example) found plenty of ready native allies to fight against their previous oppressors without realizing that the new invaders were far worse.

One of the hallmarks of a good writer is the ability to create fictional characters of such emotional depth so as to make it possible for people who are reasonably emotionally mature to identify with them despite the intellectual awareness that such people are not real. When people who are capable of forming genuine relationships with real people can still relate to a fictional character as if they were a real person, that is a sign an author has succeeded at creating vivid and real enough characters that people care about them. Such a gift as a writer is what allows a work to endure. Ultimately, people care about other people, or other beings that we can relate to as people, and so a work that allows for an emotional bond stands a good chance of lasting long after much fiction is forgotten that focuses only on technology or plot twists. A classic example of this, of course, is the fiction of Jane Austen, which even though it is set in a time period that is quite distinct from our own, still survives in large part because the wit of Austen is so fierce but understated (allowing us to relate to her), and because she had such a grasp of her own characters.

When someone has written compelling characters, in whatever medium that occurs, as beings we tend to suspend disbelief in their existence. Even if we may know that something is fictional, we are the sorts of beings that can develop a great deal of attachment or fondness for imaginary beings. No one who has seen children and their imaginary friends can doubt the fact that we possess a frightening ability to personify and to fill in the gaps of something with relational information. At times, this tendency can get people into a great deal of real life trouble, but on nights like this, it is mainly problematic because not all of the people who write characters that others care about seek to keep them alive. Let us remember that some people have grim stories to tell, and no loyalty to those who are a part of their stories. If authors are like parents, then some characters have little problem slaughtering even beloved children. Let us be careful which authors we choose to give our hearts to, and make sure we know who will be tender with our feelings, and who will not.