Post by Dustin A. Drache on Jul 7, 2008 17:12:30 GMT -5
So I'm taking a public speaking course, and my first topic was to define myself through my favorite literary character. Naturally, I chose Snape. I'm really excited because I got a hundred on it (squee!) For all of you non-Slytherins, this might give you a little insight as to how we work.
“I don't,” he said, “expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.” I don’t – I say – expect you to really understand the most complex and under-celebrated character the literary series, Harry Potter. I don’t expect you to really understand Severus Snape; but he has bewitched my mind and ensnared my senses, for in him, I see a true measure of devotion. I see myself. We are darkly ambiguous, he and I – cool and cutthroat; enigmatic antiheros, and still, by our unspoken loyalty, we are redeemed.
Now I am not a professor – or a spy – or a martyr, and I never fell in unrequited love with a girl who had red hair and green eyes. I have, however , done things of which I am not proud. I know what it is to have made a most grievous and life-altering mistake. I know what it is to stay silent and watch atrocities. I know the feeling of desperation that comes with being an outcast – with being truly lonely. I know what it’s like to want to turn back the clock and undo it. I know not being able to do so means that I would do anything – that I would gladly risk my life – to in some small measure make recompense. As it is, I only wish that I could say, “I know what it’s like to kill Dumbledore.”
The literary term for a person like Snape – for a person like me – is ‘antihero.’ We are the marginally well-intentioned people who will never be heroes because we are not noble or brave or altruistic or charismatic or optimistic enough. Because we are impatient for what we want and intolerant of excuses. Because we are so willing to condemn and so slow to forgive. We are the people who do sometimes amazing things to make ourselves feel good rather than for some abstract cause. We have our own creed to which we are obsessively dedicated. We are the people to whom you can relate because we are real people with real flaws and real motivation who will do anything to defend what we perceive is ours. And if you find yourself denying our attraction, I’ll point out Snape and I keep company with favorites like Macbeth, Scarlett O’Hara, the Jigsaw Killer, Jack Sparrow, Dr. House, Tony Soprano, and Solid Snake.
It’s good to be the antihero. You never have to say you’re sorry. You’re allowed to not like everyone. You don’t have to answer for all the nasty comments you make. Antiheroes don’t have to be nice. Powerful and passionate and impeccably well-mannered while we hand out stinging witticisms at which, were they not directed at you, you would laugh? Naturally. Fiendishly driven and draconian and truculent and pitiless and slightly sadistic? But of course. We are a distinct and select breed whom most people despise and that small handful of others finds irresistibly remarkable.
So – yes. I am cruel… and sarcastic… impatient… and unapologetic for all my social inadequacies. But if you want something – something of true worth – to be done right? You should know better than to go to someone with a conscience.
Antiheroes To The End
“I don't,” he said, “expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.” I don’t – I say – expect you to really understand the most complex and under-celebrated character the literary series, Harry Potter. I don’t expect you to really understand Severus Snape; but he has bewitched my mind and ensnared my senses, for in him, I see a true measure of devotion. I see myself. We are darkly ambiguous, he and I – cool and cutthroat; enigmatic antiheros, and still, by our unspoken loyalty, we are redeemed.
Now I am not a professor – or a spy – or a martyr, and I never fell in unrequited love with a girl who had red hair and green eyes. I have, however , done things of which I am not proud. I know what it is to have made a most grievous and life-altering mistake. I know what it is to stay silent and watch atrocities. I know the feeling of desperation that comes with being an outcast – with being truly lonely. I know what it’s like to want to turn back the clock and undo it. I know not being able to do so means that I would do anything – that I would gladly risk my life – to in some small measure make recompense. As it is, I only wish that I could say, “I know what it’s like to kill Dumbledore.”
The literary term for a person like Snape – for a person like me – is ‘antihero.’ We are the marginally well-intentioned people who will never be heroes because we are not noble or brave or altruistic or charismatic or optimistic enough. Because we are impatient for what we want and intolerant of excuses. Because we are so willing to condemn and so slow to forgive. We are the people who do sometimes amazing things to make ourselves feel good rather than for some abstract cause. We have our own creed to which we are obsessively dedicated. We are the people to whom you can relate because we are real people with real flaws and real motivation who will do anything to defend what we perceive is ours. And if you find yourself denying our attraction, I’ll point out Snape and I keep company with favorites like Macbeth, Scarlett O’Hara, the Jigsaw Killer, Jack Sparrow, Dr. House, Tony Soprano, and Solid Snake.
It’s good to be the antihero. You never have to say you’re sorry. You’re allowed to not like everyone. You don’t have to answer for all the nasty comments you make. Antiheroes don’t have to be nice. Powerful and passionate and impeccably well-mannered while we hand out stinging witticisms at which, were they not directed at you, you would laugh? Naturally. Fiendishly driven and draconian and truculent and pitiless and slightly sadistic? But of course. We are a distinct and select breed whom most people despise and that small handful of others finds irresistibly remarkable.
So – yes. I am cruel… and sarcastic… impatient… and unapologetic for all my social inadequacies. But if you want something – something of true worth – to be done right? You should know better than to go to someone with a conscience.