Teaching Empathy: A Novel Approach

Scientists are just beginning to study the effects of fiction on the minds of those who read it, and one interesting result hit the news last week: reading fiction seems to increase empathy.

Almost all of us have empathy: the only people who completely lack the ability are people with mental pathologies like narcissism and sociopathy. But even mentally-healthy people can vary in their levels of empathy, and now it seems there's one way to increase it: read more fiction.

Not any old fiction will do the trick, though: The study referenced in Scientific American tested literary fiction against "popular" fiction and nonfiction. Literary fiction was the clear winner: subjects who read books deemed "literary" did significantly better in tests measuring "their ability to infer and understand other people’s thoughts and emotions" than subjects who read popular fiction or nonfiction.

The example SciAm gave of a literary book is Louise Erdrich's The Round House, which won the National Book Award last year. For popular fiction, test subjects read excerpts from authors like Danielle Steel. I think we can all agree that Erdrich and Steel are pretty clear examples of their type: there's no question the one is literary and the other is popular. Books like Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game or Alice LePlante's Turn of Mind are blurrier: one is science fiction, the other is a mystery, and genre is usually considered popular fiction. But both of those books fit the "literary fiction" definition in other ways: they are intensely interested in character; in fact, each plot actively flows from character. They also bother with language, the rhythm and flow of words on a page. They are both quite dark and end (spoiler alert!) rather unhappily; popular fiction tends to favor tidy, happy endings. 

So what I'm saying here is: don't get too hung up on categorization. If the book has nuanced characters whose minds you really get into, that's what counts.

Which brings us back to the point—why are these three styles of writing (literary, popular, and nonfiction) so different in their effect on empathy? From the SciAm article: "Popular fiction tends to portray situations that are otherworldly and follow a formula to take readers on a roller-coaster ride of emotions and exciting experiences. Although the settings and situations are grand, the characters are internally consistent and predictable, which tends to affirm the reader’s expectations of others. It stands to reason that popular fiction does not expand the capacity to empathize."

Walk a mile in her shoes: read a book

In contrast, "Literary fiction focuses less on the plot, and more on the mental life of the characters, who are often 'incomplete;'" say the study's authors. "Hence the need for the reader to make an effort to infer what their intentions, emotions, thoughts, motivations are."

The study is of particular interest to people who work with disadvantaged youth, who don't have the access to normal socialization that their more privileged counterparts enjoy. It's also of interest to people who work with prisoners and empathy-challenged people like those sociopaths mentioned above. If empathy can be improved, it makes sense to spend effort improving it. For the rest of us, it can also help, though: empathy can dismantle the in-group vs. out-group barriers that keep so many of us apart: whoever you consider "the other," whether that's Muslims, blacks, or gays, you are less likely to maintain fear and discomfort if you learn to empathize with that group. Read The Kite Runner and your perspective on Afghanistan and its people will be forever changed. Read Native Son and briefly take on the perspective of a black man in early 20th-century America. Read Madeline Miller's gorgeous Song of Achilles to imagine what it's like to be a male warrior falling on love with another man ... in ancient Greece. Other books can cross other divides: religion, nationality, gender, even time.

This is not to say there's anything wrong with reading or writing popular fiction. "There are likely benefits of reading popular fiction—certainly entertainment," says study author David Comer Kidd. "We just did not measure them." Rather than dismissing popular fiction, readers and writers of literary fiction can focus on what's right with their preferred style. In an interview with NPR, author Jesmyn Ward said she found the study's results inspirational. "If that's true, then that's exactly what I want to happen when I write," she said. "Part of the reason that I write about what I write about is that the people I grew up with, poor people and black people, are underrepresented in fiction. So it's amazing to me that a study like this shows that people are seeing these characters and can empathize with them and sympathize with them. It makes me feel like what I'm trying to do is working."

You can never go wrong with bringing more empathy into the world.

~Stephanie

Breaking Bad Double Standards

Whether or not you’re a fan, you’ve probably heard of the TV show Breaking Bad. Rest assured, I’m not going to divulge any details about the finale or delve into the show’s message (but be warned, there are a few spoilers ahead). What I would like to talk about is the characters—or more specifically one character in the show.

For those of you who don’t watch (or hate) BB, please bear with me. I’m going to talk about something more universal than the show—and it may be of interest to you.

I recently read an article written by actress Anna Gunn about the world-wide hatred of Skyler White, the character she portrays in Breaking Bad. Skyler is the wife of the protagonist, Walter White, a chemistry teacher who after a lung cancer diagnosis decides to cook and sell crystal meth to save money for his pregnant wife and son (who suffers from cerebral palsy) and pay for all his cancer treatments. Throughout the five seasons of the show, Walt experiences a transformation from meek, principled man to hardened criminal. The power, respect and money he gets from the drug world becomes his addiction and by the end of the show, his close family members can no longer recognize him.

Skyler is not perfect either. Initially a supportive wife who assists Walt through his chemotherapy treatments and gets a job late in her pregnancy to help with the expenses, she becomes embittered and unfaithful when she learns the truth about her husband. Not only that, but she eventually helps Walt launder the cash that reproduces in his cellar like a hoard of rabbits in springtime.

Ok, so we have a story full of negative characters (with a few exceptions) but not all crimes are created equal and there are degrees to the wickedness of each character. Every character in the show, it seems, has his/her own set of principles and limits to his/her (bad) behavior. But by the end of the show, Walt has no limits.

The bizarre thing is that the majority of the public, according to Gunn’s article and to some internet research I did, DOES NOT HATE WALT, but Skyler is hated to such an extent that there are clubs/forums/Facebook pages dedicated to insulting the character and “sharing the hate.” The actress even denounced death threats against her.

Some fans brand Walt as a “badass” yet Skyler gets called a “bitch” on a daily basis. How can we explain this phenomenon? Why does a female character inspire so much hatred when she is “less bad” than her husband?

Skyler and Walter White, an explosive combination 

In an earlier post, I talked about what makes antiheroes appealing to the audience. One of the tricks I mentioned was having to compensate for the characters’ antipathy by showing something admirable about them. Vince Gilligan, the creator of Breaking Bad, gave us Walt’s intelligence. Even his nemesis, his brother-in-law and DEA agent, Hank Schrader admitted a few seconds before dying that Walt was the most intelligent man he’d ever met. However, Skyler is no box of rocks herself. Whereas Walt is brilliant when it comes to chemicals, schemes and outwitting his enemies, he becomes excessive and careless with his profits. Skyler, on the other hand, has a more pragmatic nature. Once she somewhat accepts her husband’s new lifestyle, she figures they have to find a way to justify their earnings and comes up with a clever plan that Walt—in his infinite recklessness—could have never devised. Not to mention the way she saves them and her boss from an IRS audit.

So why doesn’t the audience have the same admiration for her intelligence as they have for Walt’s?

This is not an isolated phenomenon. Look at so many beloved antiheroes in fiction: Vito Corleone, Tony Soprano, Dirty Harry, the vampire Lestat de Lioncourt, Dr. House, Hannibal Lecter, and let’s not forget the infamous Christian Grey. These men have a cult following trailing behind them. I don’t think there’s anti heroines who compare in popularity to these men (Scarlett O’Hara and Lisbeth Salander are the only ones that come to mind).

I recently finished writing my third novel and handed it over to a few friends. Two of my Beta Readers have expressed an intense dislike for my protagonist: a young woman who makes a huge mistake and needs the entire novel to redeem herself. Their biggest gripe is that she’s selfish and self-centered. I asked one of them—who has been known to love antiheroes in the past—if she thought people had less tolerance for negative female characters and her answer was a simple “yes”.

Women, it seems, have low tolerance for other women. Call it jealousy, competition, “cattiness,” but it is seems to me that women have more patience for “bad men” than they do for their own kind. In the case of male Skyler-haters, I have read complaints about her being a “dominant, nagging bitch” to Walt and demanding that he answers to her about his whereabouts at all times. Could it be their own frustration with their spouses that brings about this reaction toward a fictional character? Or is it a matter of gender expectations? Are there traits we cannot tolerate in women but we can in men?

This double standard seems to be an accepted state of affairs in Hollywood. Just take a look at what Diablo Cody (award-winning screenwriter and creator of Juno) had to say on the subject:

“The conventional knowledge in Hollywood is that an unsympathetic female character can tank a movie. I’m hoping that’s not true. I’m knocking on wood really emphatically right now but honestly I have a lot of theories sometimes I wonder if it comes down to mommy issues. The idea of a cold, unlikeable woman or a woman who is not in control of herself is genuinely frightening to people because it threatens civilization itself or threatens the American family. But I don’t know why people are always willing to accept and even like flawed male characters. We’ve seen so many lovable anti-heroes who are curmudgeons or addicts or bad fathers and a lot of those characters have become beloved icons and I don’t see women allowed to play the same parts. So it was really important to me to try and turn that around.”

As writers, we need to understand that this double standard exists. But how can we create anti-heroines that are not despised by all? Is it even possible? Or are we limited to creating antiheroes and good girls? Can you think of negative female characters who have been accepted (and loved) by the public?

And here, a small treat for the Breaking Bad fans.

Cephalopod Coffeehouse: London Boulevard by Ken Bruen

"After I showered, I cracked a brewski and got dressed. Kept it casual. Sweatshirt and jeans. My nose was still aching, but I could live with it. Gant was hovering on the outskirts of my mind. The mental threads one makes are tenuous and treacherous. I dredged up a line. 

It's not about hatred, it's about absolute devastation." (London Boulevard, Page 164)

Welcome back everyone to September's round of the Cephalopod Coffeehouse. If you're here for the first time, the Sisterhood is glad to have you along, and feel free to visit any of the other reviews in the links below.

My choice this week is a novel I received as a freebie from my local writers' group. They have a raffle at the end of each meeting and give away about twenty books. By the time my number was called, the pickings were pretty slim, so I ended up with Ken Bruen's crime thriller London Boulevard. If you hop over to The Random Book Review you'll see I chose a denser, more literary novel with The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, so it's good that I ended up with Bruen's book to review here. You'll see why in a second.

To lay a little groundwork, I'll start with the blurb on the front flap. If you don't like to know a little backstory right up front, then you can skip over this part.

When Mitchell is released from prison after serving three years for a vicious attack he doesn't even remember, Billy Norton is there to pick him up. But Norton works for Tommy Logan, a ruthless loan shark lowlife with plans Mitchell wants nothing to do with. Attempting to stay out of Logan's way, he finds work at the Holland Park mansion of faded movie actress Lillian Palmer, where he has to deal with her mysterious butler, Jordan. It isn't long before Mitchell's violent past catches up with him and people start getting hurt. When his disturbed sister Briony is threatened, Mitchell is forced to act.

Hmm...where to start. After reading the blurb again, I don't even remember who Tommy Logan is from the story (and I just finished this book a few days ago). The man Mitchell has a "hard-on" for (as it's put in the book) is a man by the name of Gant. This isn't good if I'm already getting lost when it comes to the characters in the story.

Overall, I'd say I had two annoying issues with this book. Grant it, the book is fast-paced, definitely filled with crime, sex, and bad guys (and now I'm wondering why there weren't really any good guys...), and gives you a sucker punch with how ruthless the main character seems to be. And that's problem number one for me. In the beginning of the story, Mitchell is released from a three year stint in prison for aggravated assault. The first person to say he'll become a repeat offender is the warden, and right away I wanted to root for him, thinking that he'll beat the odds.

Nope.

Mitchell leaves prison and commits about twenty other crimes (maybe even more, but I lost count) before the story comes to an end. One right away in the first chapter when he breaks a window washer's arm. I figured there had to be some redeeming quality to this character. Maybe he's not into drugs? No. Okay, maybe he's not into illegal firearms? Wrong again. How about not using those illegal firearms to plug a kid in the knees with four bullets? Again, no. Let's see...he's not a womanizer? Considering the fact that he proposes to one woman while he's still going at it with another on the side, I'd have to disagree on this one as well. There was absolutely nothing I liked about Mitchell's character and that was extremely disappointing for me. I stopped rooting for him about a third of the way through the novel, knowing he was on a downward spiral. But here's the thing: He finds out he didn't commit the crime that sent him to prison in the first place, and yet he still continues to live like some sadistic criminal. I just didn't get it.

The second issue I had with this book was the overall storyline and ending. Some critics have said that it's a stolen plot from Sunset Boulevard, but I don't know that story very well, so I can't agree or disagree. Just an FYI, the story stops abruptly. There are loose threads dangling there at the end, but heck if I know if they ever get resolved! The storyline is thin, with not much more than pointless crimes taking place. I guess that's where the struggle with understanding Mitchell's character came into play. He is always looking for trouble and that is what develops as the storyline. Not the kind of path I would take with my writing, but hey, I don't write crime either.

To put it bluntly, I don't think Ken Bruen is "one of the great crime writers of our time" as the front flap proclaims. At best, this is a half-baked story that just stops when it could probably be getting better. I've read better and I'm sure you have too. This book's a no-brainer to read and is quick to get through. The only upside to that is that I still had to finish my other novel for this week's reviews and so I had plenty of time after finishing London Boulevard.

On a final note, some musers on Amazon believe that Bruen only wrote this so it would be turned into a film. That wouldn't surprise me, considering the fact that it came out a couple of years ago on the big screen.

Um...just so you know, if Mitchell
didn't want to be a criminal, then
maybe he shouldn't knowingly
do half the stupid things he does.

Make sure to check out the other reviews in the Cephalopod Coffeehouse this month: