Crossroads: Literature and the Wicked

Literature has the potent and unmatched ability to make anything possible: to make the misunderstood understandable, to make the unjustifiable justified, and most powerfully, to confront us by making the wicked and wickedness seem beautiful. Discussing ‘taboo’ topics like paedophilia or murder is immensely uncomfortable in any context and they are often covered to no further extent than recognising them as objectively wicked. Literature, however, is unique in that it knows no bounds; it allows for stories and conversations that would never otherwise reach the light of day to be made beautiful.

Flowery prose and an abundance of abstract nouns can make almost any morally reproachable and recognisably wicked character seem understandable. The minds of paedophiles or abusers are no place any sane person wants to be, but there is a carefully cultivated grace in the way Vladimir Nabokov approaches Humbert Humbert’s mind in Lolita. He is narcissistic, self-deprecating, and intensely devoted, if nothing else. There is an intense human desperation Humbert embodies with the ability to almost fool you if you forget who exactly he is talking about when he speaks of the object of his attentions, pre-pubescent Dolores ‘Lolita’ Haze. When Nabokov expresses Humbert’s feeling through lines like ‘Don’t think I can go on. Heart — head. Everything. Lolita. Lolita. Lolita. Lolita. [Etc.]’, there is a beautifully abstract feeling of longing and base human desperation, contaminated entirely by the fact that the character’s feelings and actions pertaining to his exact his situation are perverted and wicked. The character of King Lear in Shakespeare’s King Lear is alike Humbert is his intense narcissism and desperation for validation from his daughters (though Humbert does not see Dolores and daughter-like, admittedly). He is wicked in that he is incredibly selfish, leaving his daughters largely in the dust by caring little about anyone other than himself, despite what his emotionally rousing and beautiful proclamations of feeling would have you believe. In a moment of ‘emotion’ (or some semblance of it, as it is Lear we’re talking about), he states rather brazenly: ‘O sides, you are too tough!’ Lear stating that he doesn’t understand why his chest isn’t splitting to free his breaking heart is a very on character and wicked platitude, considering the way he has treated everyone else over the span of his life. This is the type of character that literature forces us to confront: those who use words, beauty, glorification and romanticisation as attempted justification for irredeemable actions. The critical purpose of these characters lies within the confrontation; it is all well and good for these characters to exist, but it does no good to ignore either the beauty or the wickedness. Ignoring Humbert’s beautiful deception and charisma is equally as harmful as ignoring Lear’s stone-cold treatment of those around him. We must recognise these characters as multidimensional in their beautiful and ugly traits, and the literature around them as beautifully wicked in order to critically absorb the messages authors are conveying as objective in their truths but subjective to their experiences, rather than than either romanticising or simply dismissing them and their actions.

If we can be so impacted by these aspects of literature just by reading about them, how much more can those same aspects do when we can see them? As visual texts are able to make otherwise wicked and disgusting concepts visibly striking as well as beautifully written, they are further able to force us to confront their impact. Films like Midsommar ,directed by Ari Aster, or Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, directed by Martin McDonagh, would not confront the wickedness present within them in the same way if they were not beautiful. A direct cinematic parallel can be drawn between these films that supports this idea, and that is their impactful use of fire. In Midsommar it is the brutal burning of adulterous ex-boyfriend Christian of the main character Dani as she watches, fire reflected in her eyes in a close up shot of her face where despite tear tracks on her face, she smiles into the blaze. The sentiment of revenge is seen similarly in Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri where the main character, Mildred, watches as the police station of the precinct that refused to continue investigating Mildred’s daughter’s rape and murder goes up bright yellow flames, a stunning contrast against the midnight black backdrop. Arson is no commendable act by any means, but the visually striking and beautiful way such a wicked act is committed in both these films make us more receptive to the messages and the intent behind their wicked actions. Just as birds are drawn to shiny things, humans find solace in that which is aesthetically pleasing, regardless of the implications. Wickedness itself is inherently multidimensional and understanding the motivations behind wicked actions becomes easier when we recognise and confront the fact that beauty that can coexist with wickedness.

The texts from which I’ve drawn excerpts of beautiful wickedness are by no means an end to the plethora of texts that contain illustrations of it. Literature reflects society, after all, and the sheer amount of wickedness present within reality is bound to be reflected and immortalised, beautiful or not, in every genre of literature. Forcing us to confront these dilemmas and the beauty in what is morally wrong in literature means we are able to look more critically and honestly at the ways wickedness and all its motivations are represented in the real world.