We’ve just begun our Mary Sue roundtable (Noah here, Tom here) but it’s already clear in the posts and comments that we’re working from several overlapping definitions.
I surf around the fringes of the sci-fi and fanfic internets, so I’d been hearing the term for several years, as well as where it originally came from (Star Trek fan communities). But my personal working definition is not the strict-construction fanfic one, rather one alluded to best in Leigh Dragoon’s tips on breathing life into your characters (written for a sci-fi, fantasy and fanfic reading audience who wanted to branch into writing original fiction), specifically tips 3 and 4:
3. Don’t love your characters too much!
It’s important to love your characters, but try to love them the same way you love your family: don’t be afraid to acknowledge their faults. Everyone wants readers to like their characters, but it’s very easy to make your character a little too likeable. At that point, you are well on your way to creating a Mary Sue. Also, when you’re handing out those flaws, make sure you add in a few good ones! Avoid the Playboy Pin-Up Characterization – eating dessert and watching R-rated movies are not really flaws.
4. That said, avoid Mary Sue/Gary Stu’s siren song. “Luke, it’s a trap!”.
Mary and her male counterpart Gary will pretend to be your best friends. They will lie to you like there’s no tomorrow. The lie they tell most often is, “The more perfect you make me, the more everyone will love me!”.
First off, how many perfect people do you know in real life? I’m willing to bet not a one. Perfect people are boring! Nobody wants to read about someone who is physically flawless, never makes a single mistake, and is loved by the entire supporting cast for no real reason. I’ll be the first to say that it doesn’t help that so many actual published novels and comics are peopled with Mary Sues. A prime example of a “canon” Mary Sue is the hero of Mercedes Lackey’s “Magic’s Price” trilogy, Vanyel Ashkevron, a classic Emo Stu.
In my estimation, Mary Sues happen when the author becomes concerned with making her protagonist likable to readers. Symptoms include overcompetence, unearthly beauty, and other characters taking time out to admire the protagonist’s awesomeness. I don’t think a Mary Sue has to be the author’s self-insertion in the sense that Mary has anything in common with the author, and if the test is “created with likability too much in mind, to the point where the opposite results”, that covers Snapper Sues just as easily.
But you could say that creating a character whose primary purpose is to win readers’ love and adoration is a self-insertion, because Mary is a stand-in for the love the author himself wants to receive. That’s why I find folks like Chris Ware’s, Dan Clowes’ and Adrian Tomine’s self-insertions (either straight autobiographical personae or your standard white*-guy comic-reading loser protagonist) to be just as insufferable Mary Sues in their own way; I’m gonna make this guy such a loser that you’ll hate him because I hate myself so much.
I am, for obvious reasons, very interested in (semi-)autobiographical protagonists as Mary Sues. I think the key to avoiding them is to make a character that doesn’t desperately radiate either “love me!” or “hate me!” vibes, but just manages to be a compelling character among compelling characters. Phoebe Gloeckner’s Minnie is my prime example of this, and as Noah notes, Ariel Schrag’s Ariel pulls it off as well. Schrag herself mentions Art Spiegelman as an influence. I think Maus does it well, but in the new Breakdowns there’s way too much of both love me (do you see now how much of an innovator I was?) and hate me (I’m still a neurotic loser despite my success!).
Speaking of Clowes, it’s been awhile since I’ve either read or seen Ghost World, and neither of them really affected me deeply. But to weigh in on the comic Dan Clowes/movie Steve Buscemi character debate going on in comments here: the way people describe it, in the book he’s not a Mary Sue because 1)he’s not the protagonist and 2)he’s shot down and ridiculed by the protagonists. In the movie he’s not a Mary Sue because 1)he’s not the protagonist and 2)… I saw the movie before I read the book. So the first thing I thought when the Buscemi character was introduced was, “Hey, that’s R. Crumb.”
I didn’t think Zwigoff had him in there because Zwigoff wanted to sleep with teenage girls, rather Zwigoff wanted to be a zaftig teenage girl so he could sleep with R. Crumb. I thought Zwigoff’s earlier, celebrated documentary about Crumb was an amazing story, but the hero worship is palpable, especially as concerns Crumb’s sexual prowess. Aline Kominsky-Crumb has certainly expressed exasperation with that aspect of the doc in interviews.
And as long as this post is just a big mash of comment responses rolled into one… I don’t think, per Tom’s post, that a merely super-confident, super-cool character who garners widespread respect is of necessity a Mary Sue. There are a lot of stories that make use of inhumanly competent characters for non-mary-sue reasons. The one that always comes to my mind is Corwin in Nine Princes in Amber (any other fantasy geeks in the house?). He’s stupidly resourceful because it’s thrilling to watch his resourcefulness, not because it’s just awesome how awesome he is. An overcompetent character can escape sueishness by having flaws or mistakes that cost him as much (or almost as much) as his genius gains him. If Michael Corleone has a downfall, and if the downfall is his fault at all (no, I haven’t read the books, or even seen the movies, shamefully), then he’s not a Mary Sue by my definition.
Hopefully I’ll write a more cohesive post on the theme soon. Or I’ll just keep dredging up arguments from comments. In the game show we call: “Mary Sue or Nary Sue?”
*ok, so in Tomine’s case, he’s vaguely ethnic.
In my own personal definition, the way the other characters react to them and favoritism displayed by the author in the plot – who in the end becomes the central character of the story? If there is a disagreement among protagonists, who is vindicated by the resolution? – are surer guides to whether a character is a Mary Sue than supreme competence, smartness, moral integrity etc. It is when authors try too hard to make the readers like a character.
It is hard to write perfect or near-perfect characters, but this is a matter that should perhaps be seen as something separate that frequently overlaps with Mary Sueism. In the introduction to a 1986 collection of stories from the Spider-Man syndicated strip Stan Lee said that the hardest persons to write are the nice ones, the ones with whom one would like to associate if they existed in real life. He mentioned two Spider-Man characters as examples: Joe Robertson (Lee said that he tried several times to write a story in which Robbie played the central part, but invariably other characters would take it over) and Gwen Stacy, whom he created to be Peter Parker’s eventual wife, but whose perfection prevented the audience from warming towards her and eventually bored even Lee and Romita. (This was one of the rare occasions where Stan Lee identified with the decision to kill Gwen off). So Joe Robertson could be seen as a Sue averted by being stuck in a peripheral supporting role (most commonly he serves as a foil to the far-from-perfect JJJ, who has often been described as a caricature/self-caricature of Stan Lee). But there are such perfect characters who seem to work, partly because their (near-)perfection is seen as no big deal by their associates (e.g. Kim Possible) or even becomes the reason for their unhappiness (Lisa Simpson) or because it is counter-balanced by a more human and colourful (comical) sidekick (e.g. Tintin and Captain Haddock, Asterix and Obelix).
On the whole I’d also say the reason why Mary Sue is seen by many as a problem primarily of fan-fiction is that it is easier to detect when a the character is added to a pre-existing cast and immediately and almost effortlessly becomes the center of everyone’s attention and is loved and/or liked by practically everybody in the cast. One canonic example of this IMO is Pete Wisdom, a cynical Englishman written by a cynical Englishman who was quickly accepted by the members of Excalibur and became Kitty Pryde’s lover. For me the line was crossed when, to set this relationship in stone, Ellis brought back Kitty’s first love, Colossus, transformed into a near-psychopath who came close to killing Wisdom in a jealous rage.
BTW, not all Mary Sues are chosen by the author. I think one example of a Mary Sue chosen by fans would be Boba Fett. In the original versions of “Empire Strikes Back” and “Return of the Jedi” he is not quite teh awesome (his death in RotJ is wordless and ignominious), but the fans took a shining to him and so he got a cameo appearance added to the reworked version of “A New Hope” as a nod to the fans (and later an origin story in the prequels).
Oh yes, we have read the Amber novels.
Corwin as Michael Corleone works quite well. And I do think it makes sense to think of them as Mary Sues in many ways.
That bit about Zweigoff is great.
“I didn’t think Zwigoff had him in there because Zwigoff wanted to sleep with teenage girls, rather Zwigoff wanted to be a zaftig teenage girl so he could sleep with R. Crumb”
I read an interview with Zwigoff a few years back and think he said it was the girls he wanted. Maybe he was just being coy.
“I don’t think, per Tom’s post, that a merely super-confident, super-cool character who garners widespread respect is of necessity a Mary Sue.”
Like I said, it’s the tone — “gloating.” A subjective call, of course.
I wrote about this a while back, but the example of a Mary Sue that I think of is The Sentry, the Superman-like Marvel Comics character created by Paul Jenkins. He’s a pretty stupid character, but the audacity of his introduction was notable, with Marvel even waging a promotional campaign that posited him as a lost creation of Stan Lee. The idea was that he was the first Marvel superhero. He was insanely powerful, and he inspired all the rest of the heroes in the Marvel universe. He was a smarter scientist than Reed Richards, he found a way to cure the Hulk, etc. And then everybody forgot about him and history was rewritten, but he came back, and, I forget, it was stupid. The thing was, Jenkins created a new character that was not only supposed to be the greatest ever, but he rewrote history to ensure that he would be greater than everybody else as well. And who knows, maybe that’s kind of clever, but the execution was pretty terrible, and that’s where the real Mary Sue-ish-ness comes out: he’s supposed to be great and awesome, but we never see him actually do anything. It’s all hushed, reverential tones, with everybody assuring us that yes, he is wonderful and perfect, but there’s no story there. The entire comic is an introduction that makes sure we know how great he is.
Of course, he did have flaws, and that’s what allowed him to remain in the Marvel universe, since if he was as perfect as the text says he is, he would solve all problems and there wouldn’t be any plot conflict. So now he’s crazy, or amnesiac, or under other people’s control, or something; whatever they can do to keep him around and usable. Maybe he’s ceased being a Mary Sue (he’s still a shitty character though), but at least in that story that introduced him, he was a doozy of one.
“he’s supposed to be great and awesome, but we never see him actually do anything. It’s all hushed, reverential tones … The entire comic is an introduction that makes sure we know how great he is.”
Yeah, I find myself thinking of a Mary Sue as a character who gets a lot of author propaganda on his/her behalf. Maybe “propaganda for a character” might be a more useful term for me than “Mary Sue.”
tom,
yeah, *unearned* awesomeness is one of the biggest signposts, & one i overlooked. which could put michael corleone (& definitely the sentinel) in the sue category even if they have fatal flaws.
that's why "other characters taking time out to admire the protagonist’s awesomeness" is the mary sue attribute that is most likely to turn me off a character & label him as such.
so hermione *isn't* a mary sue because no one is very much impressed with her supergeniusosity & even her best friends put her down a lot (also she's supposed to be plain looking). but harry potter skates very close to being a mary sue, because characters periodically fall all over themselves saying how awesome & special harry is, when he's actually a very normal emo teenage boy.
which ties into noah's point about authors falling in love with their characters. good authors can manage to do this & still create compelling characters that readers might stand a chance of loving as well.
i think garth ennis' jesse custer & carla speed mcneil's jaeger are both good examples. one of the key things they have in common is that despite their coolness & competence, they don't get much respect from the other characters (& this is seen as right, not as some sort of tragedy).
Good call with Harry Potter. It’s one of the real problems with the series, I think. Rowling has trouble figuring out ways to actually make Harry admirable, rather than just saying he is. I think it’s hard to write good fantasy without some fairly firm and subtle ideas about good and evil. It’s a problem in Bone too; there’s never much sense as to what’s really at stake, and so all the “he’s so good!” they’re so evil! talk ends up looking like posturing.
Isn’t Harry Potter just a cipher? Like Tintin, Little Nemo, etc? I need to re-reread all these posts to get a handle on this definition.
bill,
harry potter would be a cipher if he were allowed to be a cipher. no one tells tintin or nemo that they’re the greatest wizard in the world, or the chosen one, or anything.
Thanks, Miriam. That makes sense.
Little Nemo really is a cipher. TinTin is a picaresque hero; he’s brave, loyal, etc. — maybe not especially original, but there’s a personality there.
Harry Potter from what I remember is less a cipher than a mess. One part Roald Dahl hero, one part generic fantasy background, one part cog in detective novel machinery…the individual bits are all entertaining enough, but when you try to put them all together, it’s kind of a Frankenstein.
TinTin’s a cool guy, I like him.
Little Nemo is pretty defined; he
The best thing an author can do is create an imperfect protagonist that a reader will follow. Examples: Ariel (Disney’s Little Mermaid), Nobody Owens (Graveyard Book), and Dexter (from the Dexter series).
As for Mary Sues, is it that they’re perfect or that everyone in the story likes them that annoys readers? I just want to know.
I think it’s both the perfection and the general acclaim.
Dexter’s okay. Those books can be quite funny…but when they started wandering into pseudo mysticalness they got a little tiresome.