*This review containers spoilers for Stranger Things season 4 and the prologue of The Alloy of Law*
The first episode of Stranger Things season four surprised me. Not just because of the increase in horror elements, but because of how impacted I was by Chrissy’s death. She had only been around for one episode, and her death didn’t just shock me because of its violence or suddenness, it made me a little sad. I was drawn in by her conflict and her dynamic with Eddy, even though they didn’t have much time together, was compelling. She quickly proved she wasn’t the stereotypical popular cheerleader, and I was interested in seeing more. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one because I’ve seen a fair amount of “what if” fanart of Chrissy and Eddy. But why? Is it just because the internet will ship any characters who make eye contact? Maybe that’s a contributing factor, but I don’t think it’s the only one. Chrissy is essentially the main character of that first episode; the audience is fully introduced to her and given a taste of who she could be. And just as we can picture her integrating into the rest of the show, she’s gone. I believe it’s that unique kind of loss that makes her death impactful. So I want to talk about this idea in more detail and how we writers can use it to our advantage with one of my new favorite books: The Alloy of Law
Summary
For the purpose of this review, we’re only going to be really talking about events in the prologue of The Alloy of Law. There will be mild references to other parts of the series, however there are only going to be specific spoilers for the prologue. I could talk forever about Mistborn, especially the Wax and Wayne series, but we’re starting small today.
The prologue of The Alloy of Law opens with lawman Wax Landrian on the hunt for a notorious serial killer, Bloody Tan. He’s been searching for him for awhile now, and he’s closing in. As he’s looking, he’s joined by fellow law keeper, Lessie, who’s also his wife. The two have delightful banter and work well together. They end up splitting up to corner Bloody Tan, which results in Lessie getting captured by him. Wax doesn’t panic; they’ve been in this situation before and he knows what to do. He’s an experienced lawman and an excellent shot, so he goes to shoot Bloody Tan like he’s shot and taken down many criminals before him. But as he does, Bloody Tan jerks Lessie in the way of the bullet, killing her instantly. Wax is horrified, and her death prompts Wax to leave the Roughs and return to his role as a lord in Elendel.
Power of Potential
From the way I framed this post, you likely saw that outcome coming. But when I was reading this book for the first time, going into the series completely blind, I was shocked. I had been taken by Wax and Lessie’s dynamic. Maybe it’s because I just have a soft spot for couple banter and couples who work together, but I was looking forward to seeing more of them. But as soon as I was invested in their future together, it was taken away. I wasn’t sad, like I am with most character deaths, because I had become heavily invested in the character over pages and pages, I was sad because the potential this character had was suddenly gone.
Showing a character’s potential is a unique tool. It’s different from the standard “dead parent/spouse/best friend etc.” because those don’t bother getting the audience invested in the soon-to-be-dead character. The audience isn’t meant to get invested in Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru in A New Hope. They’re set up as Luke’s reason for staying on Tatooine and act more as an obstacle to the plot than anything. To the point where the audience is almost, in some way, glad when they’re out of the picture because Luke is able to go on the exciting adventure. That’s not the case with Lessie. Wax is already on a cool adventure with her; she helps him accomplish his goals and increases the enjoyment of the adventure with her presence. Once she dies, even though it’s required for the story to start, Wax’s life gets worse. He goes from a successful lawman in the Roughs to a depressed lord stumbling through his duties until a chance to resume his work as a lawman appears. He can grow around his grief, but there’s no real “fixing” this problem.
This technique makes the audience sad alongside the characters. Wax expected to have more time with Lessie; he’s grieving the loss of the time he could have had, which is similar to the reader’s experience. By connecting the character and reader experiences in this way, it increases the reader’s immersion and can help them relate to the main character.
Harnessing This Tool
This is a unique way to upset your reader (in the best way possible), and it’s fairly easy to accomplish. It doesn’t take a lot of time; it’s often less work than getting the audience invested in the character themselves. All you need to do is show something interesting—an entertaining dynamic, an engaging conflict, a unique character trait. Once the audience wants to see more, you’ll be in a position to use this tool. And the tragedy is often stronger because it’s a “what could have been.” The audience will take longer to get closure because they will never have enough of what they wanted. It’s the adage of “leave them wanting more.” Even if a well-established character dies, if that character was around for a while, the audience could go back and reread stuff with them. That’s not possible here. All they’re mourning is their potential.
One Caveat
While this is a cool tool, I do recommend using it sparingly to avoid fridging characters. For those who might not know, fridging comes from the phrase “stuffed in the fridge” and refers to when a character, typically a side character, is killed or traumatized solely to motivate the main character or otherwise move the plot forward. Unlike a regular character death or other traumatic event, the story doesn’t focus on the trauma of the character who experiences the event, it focuses on the trauma those around the character go through as a result of the tragedy. The victim is not given priority. Typically, this is a female character. And even though I like the two examples, I can’t ignore that they were both women. Your female characters, in fact all of your characters, are worth more than the motivation they provide other characters. If the only way you’re motivating your main characters is at the expense of other characters, I recommend finding other ways to do that. Harnessing lost potential is not reserved to character deaths. A relationship can end too soon, a character can lose an ability before it can fully develop, or a character can backtrack on an arc. All of these can accomplish the same “what could have been” effect without creating a character just to die for the growth of another.
Conclusion
There are a lot of ways to make a reader hurt alongside the characters, and one surprisingly easy way is to give them less than they want. Try cutting a character’s arc short, giving characters less time than they need together, and interrupting happy moments. Leaving an audience wondering what could have been will make your story stick around in their mind longer than if everything was given closure. If everything’s wrapped up neatly, your audience can comfortably put it out of their mind. But loose threads easily get caught on things. There’s a reason people had to draw fanart of Chrissy and Eddy; the show was never going to provide that for them so they had to dedicate more mental energy to the story than they would have otherwise. Hopefully thinking about this topic in more detail has given you appreciation for this tool or inspiration for your next project. But that’s all for this week; tune in next week when we start our next series about plotting.
Until then, bee brilliant!
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