MY VILLAIN GOALS FOR SARAH:
1)A villain so compelling, I would question rooting for the protagonist 2)A villain with comprehensive backstory 3)A villain with incredible power and a desire to use it 4)A villain whose moral code was debatable 5)A villain who would make me reconsider what it means to be a villain And so Sarah created Sigrid. Sigrid was a character that left me feeling both satisfied and conflicted.
HOW SIGRID DOES “VILLAIN” RIGHT: 1)She wanted to know the limits of her strength 2)She was focused and determined 3)She didn’t want to waste her potential 4)She discouraged complacence
5)She was talented and powerful
WAYS SIGRID SETS OFF ALL THE WRONG ALARMS:
1)Her interests were only for herself, not for the greater good 2)She was tempted by (and succumbed to her thirst for) power 3)She believed she murdered her best friend 4)And felt no remorse about it
5)And considered no other options Sigrid’s character resonated with me so much that I wondered what it revealed about my own character. (Yikes.) Although I could see telltale signs of evil in Sigrid’s actions, I could also easily see myself making similar decisions. It made me realize how much the line between hero and villain could be blurred.
I’ve always been the protagonist of my own story, but it’s interesting to think I could be a villain in somebody else’s. Somebody out there has tried to attain or achieve something, and I have stood in their way. To an extent, we’re each an encapsulation of both protagonist and antagonist, hero and villain. Sarah highlights the flexibility of these roles with Sigrid alone.
Sigrid was ambitious, yes, and the immensity of her power was virtually inarguable. But she was also intelligent and relatable and, most importantly, comprehensible in her motivation. She stood in a grey field of ambiguity, and upon finishing the story, I discovered with welcome surprise that I wasn’t entirely convinced that Sigrid was our villain.
I easily adopted the perception that she was solely a determined girl whose only crime—if even that—was that she wanted to see just how far she could push herself. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. I mean, I do it every day at school. Of course, she also mercilessly murdered someone who turned out to be unreal, and I, for one, don’t do that at school. At least, not every day. But even though Sigrid was cold and ruthless, she also felt reasonable to a degree that leaves me wondering. Who is the real villain in this story?
Not only did Sarah leave me with questions about the ethical boundaries that restrict our fictional characters’ categorizations of good and evil, but she also left me pondering the fictional setting of her story—a world that deals with magic in a unique and refreshing way.
THINGS I STILL WANTED TO KNOW AFTER FINISHING:
1)Who is the Harry Potter to Sigrid’s Voldemort? Whose antagonist is she?
2)What will she do with her power?
3)What will magical politics be like afterward?
4)Can she decide who’s allowed to use the magic reservoir?
5)What did Thomas represent?
Perhaps the answers to all my questions don’t really matter. What I read was enough to make me genuinely think about what makes a villain, and that’s what I wanted from the beginning.
THE SEA WITCH
BY MARISSA MEYER
The razor-sharp barnacles clawed at my fingertips as I strained to wrench them free of the rotting wood. I cursed them repeatedly as I worked, not having known the depths of my hatred for barnacles until this moment. Vicious, stubborn little parasites. Vile, thankless cadgers.
It wasn’t long before I was also cursing my own feeble muscles and long, ink-black hair that wouldn’t stop swimming in front of my face and obscuring my vision. Another barnacle sliced into my palm and I let out a scream of frustration. Grabbing the whale-bone knife from my sack, I lifted the blade over my shoulder with every intention of hacking the nasty creatures to pieces, but I resisted the temptation long enough for the fury to pass. My heart was still thumping, but reason began to return. I needed the barnacles intact or this wouldn’t work. I needed them whole.
I drew in a mouthful of salt water, swished it angrily around my cheeks, then forced it out through my teeth. My tail flicked against the side of the long-drowned ship, making a hollow drumming sound that matched my pulse. Eyeing the barnacles, I resolved that I would not be deterred. They were the last ingredient I needed, and I would have them, no matter if they left my fingertips shredded and scarred. After all, what was this temporary pain to a lifetime of bliss?
Shoving my drifting hair out of my face, I returned to my work, digging the point of the dagger around the barnacles’ edges. I leveraged it against the wood, prying and grunting. The wood began to crumble and I grasped the edge of a waterlogged plank and pulled hard, bracing my tail against the ship’s side. It creaked and groaned and finally released, just as a particularly cruel barnacle sliced through the pad of my thumb. I yanked my hand away with a snarl. Blood blossomed like pearls on my skin before dispersing in the dark water.
“That’s it,” I growled, stabbing at the traitorous barnacle. With a pop, it dislodged and sank down toward the ocean floor. It wasn’t as satisfying a death as I would have hoped, but no matter. I had what I’d come for.
Opening the sack that bobbed on my shoulder, I stashed the splintered plank of barnacle-infested wood inside. Twenty live barnacles, the spell demanded. I had twice that, but I wanted to be sure I had plenty, in case something went wrong and I had to start over. I’d never tried such a complicated spell before, nor had I ever so badly wanted one to work. Needed one to work.
That left only one more ingredient to gather: three silver scales taken from the tail of the merman I wished to fall in love with me.
I still wasn’t sure how I would get close enough to Prince Lorindel to cut three scales from his tail, but the royal concert was tonight and he was sure to be there. Surrounded by his horrid entourage, no doubt, but they couldn’t spend the entire evening at his side. And I only had to get close enough for a moment.
Three scales. Three insignificant little scales, and by this time tomorrow, Lorindel would be mine.
I shut my eyes, clutching my bag to my chest. Brave Lorindel, who had slain an elusive frilled shark and brought its body back for the entire kingdom to feast on. Kind Lorindel, who had labored beside the working merfolk to build shelters for creatures who had lost their homes in the aftermath of a devastating surface storm. Fair Lorindel, with his cunning, boyish smile. Good Lorindel, who was destined for greatness, who would be king, who would need a queen.
I opened my eyes, buoyed by the longing that pulsated beneath my skin.