Tag: Harry Potter

Trope Tuesday: Belly of the Whale

The last stage in the departure phase of the hero’s journey is called the Belly of the Whale, after the Biblical story of Jonah.  After receiving the call and passing the threshold to the land of adventure, the hero faces what may quite possibly be the darkest hour of his life and dies in some way to the home he has just left behind.

I know what you’re thinking: “Huh? Why does the hero die at the beginning of the story?  Isn’t that supposed to happen later?” Well…yes, it does, but the symbolic death at this point is important, too.  At its core, the hero’s journey is a story of transformation and growth.  When the hero comes back from the lands of adventure, he isn’t the same person he was when he first left–he’s been changed in some way.  And in order for that change to take place, the hero needs to let go of who he was and move forward.

Joseph Campbell describes it like this:

The idea that the passage of the magical threshold is a transit into a sphere of rebirth is symbolized in the worldwide womb image of the belly of the whale. The hero, instead of conquering or conciliating the power of the threshold, is swallowed into the unknown and would appear to have died. This popular motif gives emphasis to the lesson that the passage of the threshold is a form of self-annihilation. Instead of passing outward, beyond the confines of the visible world, the hero goes inward, to be born again.

Of course, the death and rebirth doesn’t have to be literal (though it can be, as it was with Dionysus).  The point is to show that the hero has fully crossed the threshold, cutting all his ties with home and burning his ships on the shores of the land of adventure.  Once the hero passes through the belly of the whale, there’s no going back–it’s all or nothing now.

So how common is this trope really?  Actually, it occurs more often than you might think.  In Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, it happens when Harry boards the Hogwarts Express and realizes he’s leaving his old world completely behind.  It happens in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe when Peter and the others decide to go after Mr. Tumnas instead of returning to their own world through the wardrobe.  It happens in Star Wars IV when the Millennium Falcon gets sucked into the Death Star, and in Final Fantasy IV when Cecil washes up in Mysidia.

The main theme running through all these examples is that adventures are hard.  If they were easy, anyone could go on them–and no one would be changed by them.  They may be fun, and they’re definitely worth it, but to set out on one, you always have to give up something close to you–and that’s hard.

Trope Tuesday: The Call to Adventure

One of the first (and most important) stages of the hero’s journey is the call to adventure.  It happens when the hero first confronts something outside the experience of his ordinary world that beacons him to leave it.  It overlaps closely with the inciting incident, and marks the point at which the hero’s journey begins.

However, it is not typically where the story begins.  In order for the hero to leave the ordinary world, he must first start out there, so we know what’s at stake and what he’s leaving behind.  This is why Luke Skywalker starts out on his uncle’s homestead, and why Neo starts out as a bored and lonely employee of Metacortex.  Events outside the hero’s experience may have already put him on a trajectory to leave on the adventure, but he won’t know it until the call comes.

The hero may start out in a quiet, peaceful village, far removed from any sort of conflict–or he may start out in the middle of a crapsack world, as is the case with dystopian fiction.  The important thing is that it’s the world he’s always known–that he hasn’t ever really made an effort to leave or change it.

How he feels about his world largely determines how he chooses to respond to the call.  In older literature, the hero typically refuses it.  The advantage of this is that it gives the reader a sense of scope–that this adventure is not a small or a trivial thing.  It also sets up an immediate minor conflict that gives some motion to the opening chapters.

In modern stories, though, it’s more common for the hero (or his friends) to jump at the call.  There are also many advantages to this.  In Lord of the Rings, it gives Frodo an immediate band of sidekicks.  In Harry Potter, it plays up the sense of wonder at the magical world.  In the Chronicles of Prydain, it highlights the impulsiveness and naivete of Terran, as he realizes later on in the story just how stupid of him it was.

The call itself can take many forms.  It can come as a fateful visitation from a supernatural messenger, a mysterious request from a dying stranger, or a sacred trust from a dying friend.  It can also be more internal, such as an important moment of decision, or a desire to find some greater purpose in life.  Whatever the case, the one thing the hero cannot do is ignore it–at least, not forever.  One way or another, the hero sets out, and the adventure begins.

Trope Tuesday: Neutral Evil

Have you ever encountered a villain who you just hated? One who only cares about himself (or herself), who has no real loyalties and will sell out his friends, or even his master?  One who treats people as means to an end, and will use whatever means necessary to achieve those ends?  Chances are, that villain is a Neutral Evil.

From magnificent bastards to dirty cowards, from card carrying villains to seductresses and bounty hunters, this character alignment can take many different shapes and forms.  The one thing they have in common, however, is that they’ll do just about anything to further their own evil ends–including pitting the other villains against themselves.  Like the Chaotic Neutral, the Neutral Evil always looks out for #1–though entirely out of pure selfishness, as opposed to a love for free will and individuality.

From the easydamus character alignment page:

A neutral evil villain does whatever she can get away with. She is out for herself, pure and simple. She sheds no tears for those she kills, whether for profit, sport, or convenience. She has no love of order and holds no illusion that following laws, traditions, or codes would make her any better or more noble. On the other hand, she doesn’t have the restless nature or love of conflict that a chaotic evil villain has.

Of all the alignments, Neutral Evil can be the most dangerous because characters with this alignment have no qualms about doing whatever needs to be done to achieve their evil goals.  However, characters with this alignment also tend not to become evil overlords, because they backstab each other too much and don’t have what it takes to run a large organization.  Within their limited spheres of influence, however, they can be deadly.

There are a lot of Neutral Evils who I love to hate, but Lucy van Pelt from Peanuts is definitely near the top of the list.  Saruman is another one, though he’s less of a magnificent bastard than Sephiroth (Why did you have to kill Aeris?  WHY???).  And of all the Neutral Evils, Voldemort is probably the most ambitious.

In my own works, my favorite Neutral Evil would have to be Shira from Desert Stars.  Man, I hated her so much…once I got her character down, it was a real joy to write. 🙂 From Bringing Stella Home / Sholpan, Borta is definitely a Neutral Evil.  Qasar leans more to the lawful side, while Gazan leans to the chaotic, but Borta is squarely neutral–and she’s vicious.  Genesis Earth and Star Wanderers, however, are generally feel-good stories, so they don’t really have anyone with this character alignment.