Darken Rahl: The Most Villainy Villain This Side of Snidely Whiplash

Admittedly, this makes him look very cool

Okay, so your best story is nothing without a compelling villain, right? And the best villains have names that strike terror into the hearts of readers. So you've got to give your villain a name that says right from the start that this is the bad guy, folks!

You know, like Doctor Doom or Doomsday or Snidely Whiplash. These names just scream "I am writing a deep work of philosophy with elements of history and romance that explores important themes like the nobility of the human spirit, and I am certainly not writing a fantasy novel".

With that in mind, rather than steer toward names someone writing "typical fantasy" might use, such as Sauron, Jadis, Morgan LeFay, Voldemort, Maugrim, Akar Kessel, Ba'alzamon or Pyrates, you want to go with something literate, sophisticated, something that says "This guy may be the villain, but unlike grandiose comic-book, typical-fantasy bad guys, he doesn't consider himself evil, and is trying to bring about a better world, as he sees it." With that in mind, you can't go wrong with a name like "Darken Rahl".

Seriously, "Darken"? You put the work "dark" right there in his first name, as if to signal loud and clear "this guy is capital-E eeeeeevil, boys and girls, boo hiss!", you give him a last name that sounds like a growl, and then you have the gall to try and present him as a well-intentioned extremist who thinks of himself as a liberator?

Let's back up a bit and talk about Goodkind's comments about how villains are usually handled in fantasy. According to him: "Fantasy usually takes conventional values as a given. For example, the evil being battled is commonly a dark force that wishes to do evil - without any reason beyond that it is evil." Okay. I mean, that's a pretty blanket statement that I doubt he's really prepared to back up, but I'll grant that there are quite a few "Dark Lords" out there that seem to be little more than evil made manifest. So what's Darken Rahl?

The thing is, I doubt that even Goodkind knows. There's no question that he meant to present him as an insidious villainous adversary, one that doesn't advertise himself as evil and doesn't believe that he is. Richard's struggle in the book is getting people to believe that Rahl is a threat. An aboriginal tribe analog thinks they'll be left alone as they're not involved in the politics of the Midlands. Rulers are making deals with him and see him as a benevolent liberator from the oppression of the Confessors and their council of wizards (and from what we see, life under Rahl almost can't be worse than life under the Confessors). From the perspective of the common folk of the Midlands, there's little reason to doubt Rahl's sincerity aside from the fact that his name is Darken Rahl.

At least, this is true for parts of the book. Depending on the chapter, Rahl is presented a number of different ways. There's no doubt his father was an evil tyrant whom the wizards were right to oppose, and Rahl himself has done some pretty awful things, including, naturally, rape, rape, rape. He also, of course, encourages his soldiers to do the same. He has also done some stuff that is just balls-out stupid, and it amazes me that people can take these books seriously when they read this part (and yet, I kept reading, so I guess I can give people some latitude).

The first thing he did is also one of his more infamous; he banned the use of fire.

Sigh.

I think, but I am not sure, that Goodkind, who is libertarian as most Objectivists are, was trying to create an analog for gun control, but rather than create a scenario that made sense, he decided that Rahl would be a strawman political and ban fire. Banning fire in a pre-industrial society would be as nuts as banning electricity would be today. Apparently Rahl has a phobia of fire because he was caught in Zedd's blast of "wizard's fire" that incinerated his father Penis Panis, and badly burned. He also knows that wizards use fire for some of their spells. Banning fire is quite frankly the stupidest thing any villain can do, because fire is more than just a way to hurt people or cast spells, it's pretty much what's allowed the human race to survive. Without fire in a pre-industrial society, you can't cook food, you can't heat your home, you can't see when it's dark, you can't do metalwork, meaning you can't make tools for the building of, well, anything, and you're robbed of nearly any sort of power source. No one in any society is going to allow their ruler to ban fire. They'd absolutely revolt, but apparently the citizens of D'Hara are just that stupid, and recently the Midlands started taking the idea seriously, and the first hint that we're given that Rahl might have a grip in Westland is that Richard's brother Michael, who's been elected "first counselor", whatever that means, gives a speech that sounds suspiciously like he might be considering banning fire. Only in Goodkind's world could such a thing happen.

Here's a question; if Goodkind really was trying to make a point about gun control, could he not have made the analogy more direct and have Rahl ban swords? Swords and guns are both weapons. Both have no other use than to be used to harm or kill someone, either in defense or offense. Regardless of what side you fall on, the subject is one that has good people with good intentions on both sides of it, and is an idea that sounds, on the surface, like a good one. Rahl would have almost no trouble at all making it a popular opinion to hold, and Goodkind could have used this as a parallel for real-life government corruption, because of course the powerful aren't going to give up their swords, just the commoners. And it's made even more poignant because Richard has just been given the sword of swords as his badge of office, meaning Rahl will have little trouble convincing people that Richard is the bad guy because he's sword-crazy.

But that would mean Goodkind would have to present a layered, nuanced argument. And he's thoroughly incapable of such an act.

The second thing Rahl does is even dumber, because from what I recall, he essentially does it fo dah evulz. He casts a spell that makes all red fruits poisonous.

This is first revealed in a scene where Richard offers Kahlan an apple as they walk through the woods. She reacts like any reasonable person would, attacking Richard and accusing him of trying to poison her. Because that's how poisoners get you; they walk up and say "hey, here's a nice warm cup of cyanide. Drink up!"

She then tells Richard that Rahl cast a spell to make all red fruits in D'Hara and the Midlands poisonous, and the reason is "because children like red fruit". Again, what? He poisons kids for the fun of it? I mean, I understand that it's a method of instilling fear in the populace, but wait, I thought Rahl was one of those rulers who did his best to lull the people into thinking him a kind and loving dictator while he slowly tightens his grip? Where does poisoning kids to instill fear fall in that plan? Is Rahl a villain who thinks he's a savior or is he a dark force that wishes to do evil - without any reason beyond that he is evil?

Actually, on that point, I must discuss the way Richard, Kahlan and Zedd talk about Rahl well before we meet him. In fact, let's start there; we don't actually meet Rahl until we're about a third of the way into the story, but before him, we hear a lot about him, and he seems like a mixture of Stalin, Idi Amin and Saruman the White. I can buy this. I mean, yeah, he seems cartoonishly evil with his banning of fire and spell on red fruit, but I can absolutely swallow an evil wizard taking control of a nation, setting himself up as a man of the people, pointing to some "other" as the cause of all the peoples' problems (in this case, the Confessors and wizards), outlawing magic (while practicing it himself, natch) and secretly removing freedoms and extending his reach all while presenting himself as a public benefactor. I'm right there with ya so far. Except the banning of fire and poison fruit spell. But then, as they travel along the boundary, which, I remind you, is the underworld, various spirits try to trap them, taking the shape of loved ones who have died. Zedd and Kahlan begin to speak of "Rahl's followers in the underworld". I feel like I'm saying this too often, but what?

Rahl has followers in the underworld? Is he just a despotic wizard or is he Satan himself? Is literally everything that happens to our heroes on their journey a direct result of Rahl's evil?

And did I mention that none of the heroes have met him yet? And in fact, we as readers have spent only a little time with him, and he spends most of that time being about as brazenly evil as a mad ruler can be. He gleefully talks about his plans to rape the Mother Confessor when he catches her, and he casually talks with his lieutenant, Demmin Nass (oh, lord, these names) about Nass's predilection for raping of preteen boys. Yep, Nass isn't just a rapist, he's also a pederast! I'd make a comment about homophobia, except the third book introduces a sympathetic lesbian couple. But then, now that I mention it, most homophobes are okay with lesbians because of the stereotype of the hot, sexy lesbian. And it need hardly be said that the lesbians are hot women who dress in dominatrix gear, plus he even kills one of them so we don't have to worry about too much icky gayness. Nass, as far as I recall, is the only gay man in the entire story and he's a monster who rapes little boys and then kills them after. Specifically after, not before, because he "like[s] it when they squirm". Okay, really, Goodkind, what is it with you and villains who revel in being sick, repugnant perverts? I mean, you've got Rahl who we're supposed to think of as a well-intentioned extremist, but this is the company he keeps? Not to mention that he's at least as rape-happy as all the other villains are. Worse, actually. I haven't told you about the Mord-Sith yet.

Mord-Sith are leather-clad dominatrices (the lesbian couple are two of them) who specifically exist because Rahl needs people who can trap and torture wizards. Once they complete their training, they have the power to trap wizards by stealing their power, and then they can torture them with a magical device called an Agiel, which is essentially a leather dildo that causes great pain. Mord-Sith are chosen from the sweetest, kindest young girls (why just girls? reasons) who, through torture and training and torture that is training, have the humanity stripped from them. Yeah, but Rahl doesn't think he's the villain.

So, that's a pretty big fail. Why not present us with a villain who has standards, and who is evil because he takes actions that have negative consequences, something he ignores because he truly feels his ends justify his means, and that if millions die as a result, well, at least their sacrifice won't be in vain and...and...crap, I'm describing our heroes. No wonder he had to make Rahl so boo-hiss evil.

With all that having been said, let's talk about Rahl's "master plan" that Richard must prevent. It involves some magical MacGuffins called the Boxes of Orden. There are three boxes, and one must gather them all and use a special Tome of Eldritch Lore called the "Book of Counted Shadows" in order to harness their power. Once you have all three, and the book, you can put the boxes into play. That's the term used throughout, "put into play". Exactly what that means is never explained. Once you've "put the boxes into play", which I'm guessing has something to do with balls and hoops, you have until the "first day of winter" to open a box. But if you don't have the book to guide you, you might open the wrong box.

I should clarify further. The boxes are in fact encased in jeweled cases that can't be removed unless you follow the book's instructions. Just trying to pull the lid off won't work. Inside each case is a dark box of nothing and it's this box you actually want to open. The problem is knowing which one is the right one.

One box will grant you unlimited power. You will literally become a god. The second box will destroy the world and everything in it, including you. The third box just strikes you dead on the spot.

So...who the hell created these things and why? Who had that kind of power and if they had it, what made them want to give it to someone else, assuming they passed the test? Who, or what, is Orden? Why do the wizards not want to destroy the book and the boxes, if they can? We're never told. There's no possible good reason to use the boxes. You can only kill yourself, destroy the world or be granted absolute power, something you only want if you're ready to be corrupted absolutely. Why preserve this magic? Why not do all you can to make sure no one, ever can use those boxes?

And does Goodkind not see that his villain making a try at becoming a god is what happens in countless other "typical fantasy" novels?

But the wizards of old just wanted to make sure the boxes didn't fall into the wrong hands. Whose hands would be the right ones!? As for the book, they hid it in the "Wizard's Keep" which is a fortress in the mountains above Aydindril, and Zedd's plan includes going to find it. Why? If it's hidden and safe from Rahl, why not keep it so?

Plot twist, though. It isn't hidden, as readers are told fairly early. Richard's father stole it. How, we're not told, but he apparently got through a number of magical defenses, despite not being magical himself, and took it, forced Richard to memorize it perfectly, then destroyed it. Richard is now the only copy of the Book of Counted Shadows, but neither Zedd nor Rahl know this, and Rahl assumes that Zedd is protecting the last copy. Which he kind of is, but doesn't know it.

So, let's talk about Richard's memory. Apparently he memorized the book so completely that you can ask him to recite a given paragraph of a given page and he can. Nope. Memory doesn't work that way, even if you're Special. And apparently it has nothing to do with his magic powers, either, although the fact that he has them meant that the book couldn't use its auto-memory-erase function we only learn it has in the second novel. Memory fades unless it's continually renewed. This is why people remember stuff from years ago very differently than it happened. This is why we can't remember what our infancy was like. Memory doesn't get stored in our subconscious as many believe, it literally fades and fades until it's gone. As for memorizing an entire book to the point where he can pull up any part of it in any order? There are some people with memories this good, but even they would have to spend at least a part of every day reciting the info again. Richard doesn't do this, or if he does, we never witness it. But Richard is a Sue, so I guess that's just part of the package.

Rahl, at the start of the story, has two of the boxes, but somehow he's already put them into play, and managed to get one of them out of its case, despite the book saying this isn't possible. Just another example of magic working however Goodkind wants it to. I'll have a good deal to say more on Goodkind's treatment of magic and view of how it should be used, but I have a special post in mind for it. The problem is Rahl needs that third box and the first day of winter is fast approaching. Why would he put the boxes into play before he had them all and before he had the book is beyond me. The mission for Richard, aside from killing Rahl, because murder solves everything, is to keep him from getting the last box.

I think you already can tell how Rahl is ultimately dispatched, but the stupid isn't over yet. As Rahl is about to be taken by the magics of Orden, he asks if Zedd is Richard's father. Zedd says no, Rahl himself is!

I mean...what the..lkgjgjlkfauj[q09jfalktujq0o9wiujfrlskjutr!!!!!!

Sorry, had to bang the head on the keyboard for a second.

This is just so...so...did Goodkind really believe this was some sort of crazy original twist??!! I won't go as far as to say it's a cliche but it's one of those tropes that once used, really should never be used again. Star Wars got away with it but every repetition since then is so clearly a riff on that plot twist that it should remain dead. But we're not done. Zedd, you see, is Richard's grandfather.

Yep. Rahl raped Zedd's daughter...at some point. The timeline is confusing. After or during the wizard's war, I guess. He raped her because that's what villains do, but Richard was the result. To protect him, Zedd gave him to George and his family to raise as their own. Now that...that is a cliche. Almost to the level of Disney.

The sheer number of orphan rustics whose mysterious parentage makes them heir to a great magical destiny is shockingly high. And Goodkind really went there and yet expects us to believe he's not writing typical fantasy?

As you've likely gathered by what I just said, the first book ends with Darken Rahl defeated and sent to the underworld, so, spoilers, he won't be our principle villain for the remainder of the series, even if his spirit does occasionally return. The Big Bad of the second book is the Keeper of the Underworld, who is a dark force that wishes to do evil - without any reason beyond that it is evil. It has mooks, mostly the Sisters of the Dark, and yes, I'll be getting to them in future posts, and that book also introduces the Imperial Order (the names...the names!!), which is a painfully obvious analog to the Communist regime, only more openly evil. In the third book we meet their Lenin, an evil emperor named Jagang. Yep. Jagang. The subtle naming continues.

I won't be doing character pages past this point, mainly because it's going to get repetitive. There's not an appreciable difference between Jagang and Darken Rahl, and most of the other characters are too minor to deserve full pages of their own.

Besides, up until now Goodkind has just been a mediocre writer with some crazy ideas that would only work in a world where he decides what happens. We have yet to get to what really makes him an offense to the genre of fantasy. In the next several posts we will discuss Goodkind's statements, his claims and his defenses.

Strap in. It's going to be ugly.

Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander: The Wizard is Lame, and So is His Name

Zedd during his heavy metal frontman years

Oh, yeah, spoilers, I guess. We're not supposed to know that Zedd is the great wizard Kahlan came to Richard's country to find.

I mean, get this; Kahlan just happens to end up in Richard's part of the country, wandering aimlessly, and he happens to be the first person who sees her that isn't out to harm her. He happens to know Zedd, the very person she's looking for. And the reason she's looking for him is so he'll name a Seeker, who, of course, turns out to be Richard.

I despise plots that rely on coincidences in order to work.

But what would our heroes be without a wise wizard to be their mentor?

It's sort of hilarious how the first three chapters go. Numerous times throughout, Richard thinks about Zedd, what he would say if he were there, etc., mentions Zedd, talks endlessly about him, even as Kahlan describes the wizard and for whatever weird reason, neither of them seem to realize that Zedd is the wizard, and clearly we're not supposed to know this either, as the scene where this is revealed is written in such a way that Goodkind clearly expects us to be shocked and amazed.

If I had been hired to adapt this thing into a movie, I would have had Jason Bateman play Richard, and deliver the following line: "Don't worry, Kahlan, we'll find this wizard. My friend Zedd should be able to help. He's this eccentric old cloud reader I know who lives in seclusion in the forest, and has a lot of ancient knowledge and doesn't like to talk about his past and has an odd name and oh my god he's the wizard."

Goodkind does not know how to be subtle, so what he thinks of as foreshadowing is in fact blatant lampshade hanging.

As soon as Zedd is introduced, practically as soon as he was mentioned, it was obvious what role he'd play, and duly he is a fill-in for any number of other wise sage wizard mentors, with the most obvious three being Gandalf (naturally), Fizban of DragonLance and Belgarath of The Belgariad. Zedd is both wise, mysterious and fatherly, like Gandalf, has a strong "comic relief" feel like Fizban and is constantly hungry, like Belgarath.

Oh, wait, what am I thinking? He's nothing like those characters because he doesn't have a beard! Sooo original.

Alternately we're meant to be amused by and lectured to by him. The main way I managed to stomach this character was imagining him being played by John Cleese. In the TV series he was played by the Mouth of Sauron (that's him, above), and thus a good deal more annoying.

The funniest thing about Zedd is that he plays the mentor role but Richard hardly needs a mentor. He already knows everything, so Zedd's primary purpose is to constantly assure Richard that he's right, and tell him to buck up when Richard has the rare moment of self-doubt. He doesn't even instruct Richard in the use of his powers, because Richard is a War Wizard, which means his powers are activated by instinct (in other words, they only work when Goodkind wants them to, and in whatever way Goodkind needs them to).

The other way he keeps the Obi-Wan persona up is in the sheer amount of secrets this man keeps, apparently for no other reason than that Goodkind doesn't want the reader to know them until the proper time. Or he just now thought of them.

To be honest, Zedd as a character is mainly just annoying rather than outright anger-inspiring...until you get to his back story.

Essentially, during the war between the wizards and Darken Rahl's father Penis Panis, Zedd was known as the "Wind of Death" and inspired fear even in those on his side. He ended the war by creating the Boundaries, which are impassible walls between the three main nations (Westland, the Midlands and D'Hara, the only one worthy of an actual name) in order to "keep them safe". The walls are actually long portals to the underworld, and if you get too close, you're dragged right in, and nothing that goes to the underworld can return to the mortal plain...

...except the various monsters that can, and do, come out of the boundary all the time and attack innocent people. And Zedd's responsible. Think he feels a moment's remorse? Whaddaya think this is, typical fantasy? If it were typical fantasy, Zedd's principle spells could be summed up as "fireball" or "lightning bolt" or...uh...that's actually exactly what they are.

Once he put up the boundaries, Zedd became extremely angry at the way the ruling council of the Midlands was behaving (read: they weren't doing exactly what he wanted and only that) so he left them all to the consequences of their actions and cast a spell that made them all forget his name and face. Then he buggered off to Westland...somehow, I'm not entirely sure if the boundary between Westland and the Midlands was up yet, it's been a while since I read it. Don't ask me why he didn't just go by another name or something. Everything must be magic in these books.

And he's been Richard's mentor all his life. He's the reason Richard is the way he is.

Given what Zedd is guilty of, I don't see how we're supposed to believe him that Darken Rahl is the bad guy, other than the fact that his name is "Darken". In a book written by a more skilled writer, it would likely turn out that Zedd was really just a chessmaster trying to manipulate the heroes into doing his bidding, including taking out his main rival, Darken Rahl, who will turn out to be nothing compared to the threat of Zedd, but no. We're supposed to believe Zedd because Richard does, and Richard is always right. And he turns out to be "right" here, as well, in the sense that Zedd is right by Goodkind's insane standards.

The worst thing about Zedd is how he's literally never called on anything he does, or has done, unlike Richard, who at least is called on it by the bad guys. He created the boundaries, really dangerous magic that's probably cost hundreds if not thousands of lives, all to defeat D'Hara, but we're repeatedly asked to think of the Boundaries as good things, and the fact that they're falling is bad. He's committed genocide on a mass scale, but his "penance" is that he has to live with that. Not that he's learned from it; he commits genocide on a mass scale during the books, as well, but it's only bad guys he kills, so don't worry.

The chief way he's portrayed is as an eccentric old man who's meant to make us laugh. He has a series of catch-phrases like "Bags!" (as near as I can tell, a euphemism that means "da,mn"), "True as toasted toads!" which means...nothing, and "Nothing is ever easy" which is...I guess meant to be profound? He sure as hell says it a lot, like it's this Great Truth that no one realizes. Well, the thing is, some things are easy, Zedd. But I think the phrase is supposed to mean "Nothing worthwhile is easy to accomplish" and while this is usually true (true as microwaved frogs!), it's not exactly an original thought.

My final thought for Zedd is that his name is just plain stupid, and really highlights how little thought Goodkind puts into his names. It's like he picked the name "Zedd" out of a hat (or out of Police Academy) and then decided it had to be "fantasied up", so he went with Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander. Or Threezy, if you prefer. I prefer. No one else in this world has a name like that. While his name is initially pointed out by Kahlan as not sounding like something from Westland the fact is that people from Zedd's corner of the world have names like Neville Ranson.

I know this entry probably doesn't seem as crazy as Richard or Kahlan's, but it is part of the package. Next we're gonna talk about Darken Rahl, and trust me, he makes up for this entry.

Kahlan Amnell: Strong, Independent Rapist Who's Nothing Without Her Man

"Love me or I'll make you!"

Buckle up, gang, 'cause this is gonna be barf city. This character is worse than Richard. She may very well qualify as the worst character in all fantasy lit.

The female lead of this series, and Richard's One True Love, Kahlan Amnell is introduced to us at the end of the first chapter of Wizard's First Rule, a nameless woman walking through the forest in a white dress, unaware that she's about to be attacked by four men following her through the brush. Richard sees her and from his vantage point also sees the men, and rushes to warn her of the attack.

He then immediately falls in love with her. No, I'm serious. The wording in the chapter of his reaction upon first seeing her is instant love.

"Her brown hair was full, lush, and long, complimenting the contours of her body. She was tall, almost as tall as he, and about the same age. The dress she wore was like none he had ever seen: almost white, cut square at the neck, interrupted only by a small, tan leather waist pouch. The wave of the fabric was fine and smooth, almost glistening, and bore none of the lace or frills he was used to seeing, no prints or colours to distract from the way it caressed her form. The dress was elegant in its simplicity. She halted, and long graceful folds regally trailing her gathered about her legs.
...
Her eyebrows had the graceful arch of a raptor’s wings in flight...
...
The connection was so intense that it threatened to drain his sense of self. He felt that he had always known her, that she had always been a part of him, that her needs were his needs. She held him with her gaze, as surely as a grip of iron would, searching his eyes as if searching his soul, seeking an answer to something. I am here to help you, he said in his mind. He meant it more than any thought he had ever had.
...
In her eyes, he saw something that attracted him more than anything else. Intelligence. He saw it flaring there, burning in her, and through it all he felt an overriding sense of her integrity."

I mean...I just...he hasn't shared a single word with her yet! Not to mention that in this scene, it becomes immediately clear that Kahlan is not very intelligent, whatever Richard sees in her eyes, or she wouldn't be wandering in strange woods with no weapons wearing a dress that makes her stand out all the more and by all rights should be so filthy that its original color is unrecognizable.

But this isn't by any stretch the worst aspect of this character. We're just getting started.

Let's first focus on Kahlan as a character. Kahlan is strong, fiercely independent, able to lead armies and give orders...and she spends a majority of each book pining for Richard and, when she's in his presence, constantly seeking his protection because she's far too timid and weak to protect herself.

No, I'm serious. Her personality is all or nothing. Throughout the books, whenever she and Richard are apart, she alternates between being one of the most vicious, bloodthirsty generals any army has ever seen (the only way Goodkind knows to make her appear strong), or she's a sobbing mess because she needs her man. When they're together, she lets Richard essentially take over. They have token disagreements here and there, usually very minor, before she lets Richard make all the decisions, and worse yet, she is usually shown to be so dependent on his protection that it's a wonder she made it as far as she did before she met him. Also, remember how I said that Richard is so dumb that he can only be made to look smart by having everyone around him be dumber than he is? Kahlan is number one in that regard. Probably the biggest example I can give happens in the second book, in which Kahlan is tasked with journeying to Aydindril to warn Zedd that the Keeper of the Underworld is about to break through to the mortal plain, and essentially end the world, as you normally see in a non-fantasy book that focuses on important human themes of deep philosophical reach. It's a mission of major importance, and timing is of the essence, so what does Kahlan do? She ends up finding the remnants of an army that's planning a suicidally stupid attack on a much larger force. And stays to help them win. It takes weeks, and ultimately means very little because the entire freaking world is still in danger. Let's not even get started on her idiotic plan to defeat the invading army. Which works, because Goodkind wanted it to work. Yeah, she's nearly as much a Sue as Richard himself. In other books, her stupidity mainly manifests itself in how she can't seem to ever be concerned about much else than Richard and his continued presence in her life.

Now, I know it's very tough to write women characters in period literature when you're not a woman. Every decision you make is going to piss someone off, and I don't mean that you run the risk of pissing off either feminists or MRA's, I mean you run the risk of pissing off different groups of feminists and/or misandrists. I've seen various authors praised and lambasted for exactly the same reasons. You can't write a female character and not have someone complain that you did it wrong. But Goodkind takes that a step further; he truly believes he's written a strong, powerful woman and repeatedly refers to her as such (like Richard, she's supposed to be a living standard of all that is true and good) but what he's created is actually a pretty misogynistic character, and I don't just mean her own portrayal, but we'll get to that in a moment.

Let's talk about Kahlan's bloodthirst. She may actually be more tyrannical than Richard, even if she's perfectly okay letting him rule. But due to her position in the Midlands (which we're coming to), and later due to her position as Richard's betrothed who can speak on his behalf, she often finds herself in the main leadership role. Invariably, she becomes a brutal tyrant who orders peoples' deaths for no reason except they might present a threat to Richard or because she has a really odd definition of "treason", which boils down to "something you said or did upsets me".

One chief example again has to do with that army. See, Kahlan's position is essentially the ruler of the Midlands. There's some dissent among the people about the unopposed rule of the Mother Confessor (her title, and yes, we're getting there) but there's been no official toppling of her regime, nor is being ruled by a woman something unheard of in her nation. But the thing about misogynists who don't realize they're misogynists is that they have to write straw-misogynist characters in order to create a faux conflict. In this case, a small contingent of this army decides they won't take orders from a woman. Kahlan tells anyone who doesn't want to be commanded by a woman that they may go. After they leave, she tells the captain to take some of his remaining troops and follow the others and kill them at the first opportunity. For treason. And because once a person has committed treason, they'll likely do so again. It turns out that she was right, because Goodkind is writing her story and he's as dumb and bloodthirsty as she is, but seriously, a man whose only beef was taking orders from a woman has decided to go over to the enemy as a result? Later she has her own half-brother declared mad simply because he doesn't see the Confessors as pure and good (and once you're done reading this you'll probably agree with him). When a young woman from Richard's home town shows up in the fourth book, she very seriously entertains the thought of killing this woman just because she has a feeling that this young woman is a threat to Richard. When Richard does decide at the end of the fifth novel to leave a city state to suffer the consequences of their choice, Kahlan's all for the wholesale slaughter of the entire populace. At one point she does remove all protection from another city state, leaving them vulnerable to the same invading army as I mentioned above, all because they didn't want to swear total fealty to Richard and Kahlan. In all fairness, this is a decision Richard makes, but on her advice, as I recall.

Continuing on the misogyny theme, I have mentioned before how rape-happy Goodkind seems to be, and it's never more grossly represented than whenever Kahlan encounters any man who is on opposite sides from her. The number of times she's threatened with rape or nearly raped is almost uncountable. While this sort of thing isn't by itself wrong or sexist, Goodkind abuses the situation, sucking it dry of its significance and importance by sheer overuse. Contrary to Goodkind's belief, most men aren't ready to rape all women they see merely because she's defenseless, even if they're not on the hero's side. And if they are that ready to rape, they usually want to make sure they're not being watched. Like I said, everyone knows how evil and wrong rape is, even those who commit it. Not in Goodkind's world, though.

Twice that I recall, and likely more times that I don't, or haven't read, a character reveals themselves to have been evil all along. And in both cases, the first thing they do is try to rape Kahlan. I mean, really, they've been able to control themselves up to this point, but now that they've revealed their true nature, they can't stop themselves from goin' to town on our pure, incorruptible heroine.

At one point, Kahlan is tossed into a pit of criminals, who, naturally, are all jostling for the position of who can rape her first. As if this isn't skin-crawling enough, Kahlan decides the best way out for her is the use of her power (which, for once, is true). Her power is expelled through touch, so she selects the strongest man there and...and...ugh, sorry, I'm struggling to write this without screaming...gives him instructions on how best to rape her.

I just...nope.

But this leads me to discussing Kahlan's power, and the position she holds because of it. She's a Confessor. If this sounds like a Catholic nun to you, you're way off. Basically, the Confessors were created a long time ago by wizards because wizards "hated lies". Yeah. So this powerful woman is only powerful because men gave her that power. She and the other Confessors rule absolutely in the Midlands, and the Mother Confessor rules them. That's Kahlan. She's a strong independent woman because of a power given to her by men and a position created for her by men.

But let's continue. Here's how a Confessor prevents "lies": her power allows her to touch a man and place him under her complete control. Forever.

As she describes it: ”Once touched by it, you are no longer the person you were. You are changed forever. Forevermore you are devoted to the one who touches you, to the exclusion of all else. What you wanted, what you were, who you were, no longer means anything to you. You would do anything for the one who touches you. Your life is no longer yours, it is hers. Your soul is no longer yours, it is hers. The person you were no longer exists.”

That sounds...evil. It sounds more evil than anything Darken Rahl ever does in this book, or the other villains do in books that follow. What it is, plain and simple, is mind rape. You cease to be the person you once were, because your mind has been hollowed out and replaced with nothing more than a mindless, slavish devotion to the Confessor who bewitched you. It's mind rape, full stop. It's not a wonderful or fearsome power. It's doesn't make Kahlan powerful because she has it. It makes her a mind rapist and it's a vile, hateful power that only a vile, hateful person would ever willingly use (as Kahlan does repeatedly and without remorse).

But it gets worse. She describes it as "the power of love". Um. What?

Love is a powerful emotion, sure, and it does create feelings of devotion in a person toward another person, assuming it's true love and not lust. I'm a married man. I have children. I love my wife and kids with a strong devotion that means their well-being, their safety, their happiness, is more important than my own. But I'm still me. I am still able to think about other things than my love for my wife and kids. Even when I'm with them, I'm able to function without my every thought being on whether my actions are what my family wishes me to do. I'm even able to disagree with my wife, and discipline my kids, often by simply not doing what they want me to, and still love them. The hopes and dreams I had before getting married and becoming a father are still there, and I would only ever sacrifice one of those dreams by conscious choice because I personally decided my family was more important. I may love them sacrificially, but it's my love for them that makes me choose to be sacrificial for their needs, not compulsion that leaves me unable to think any other way.

What Kahlan describes is not love. It's not even lust. It's just pure and simple mental enslavement. It's rape.

But why are they called Confessors, and what does their power have to do with lies? Well, the primary purpose of a Confessor is to get the truth from people charged with crimes. Often, people who are accused but innocent ask for a Confessor, which right there should prove them innocent because who would want to be Confessed? But there's a solution to when a person has been Confessed and turns out to actually be innocent; they're turned into animals. Yep. Because animals' feelings are different, the devotion one feels to their Confessor lessens somewhat once they've been transfigured by a wizard. We meet a wolf who was once a man confessed by Kahlan and he describes what being Confessed felt like:

”Pain. I remember the pain. It was exquisite, beyond anything you could imagine. The first thing I remember after the pain is fear. Overpowering fear I might be breathing wrong, and it would somehow displease her. I almost died from fear that I would displease her. And then when she told me what she wanted to know, it was a flush of the greatest joy I had ever known. Joy, because then I knew what I could do to please her. I was overjoyed that she had made a request of me, that there was something I could do to satisfy her. That’s what I remember the most, the desperate, frantic need to do what she wanted, to satisfy her, and to make her happy. Nothing else was in my mind, only to please her. To be in her presence was beyond bliss. The pleasure of being in her presence made me cry with elation.”

Again, that sounds absolutely horrifying. Moreover, besides being rape, it's the ultimate subjugation of a person to another person's will. Richard, we'll discover, can't abide the idea of any one person being forced under the will of another (unless it's his own, of course, because he's Richard and the rules don't apply to him), yet he takes this whole thing in stride, even calling the power "good" because it's part of Kahlan.

But! It gets worse!

One creates new Confessors the way one creates any new human, but Confessors can't just marry someone they love and raise little Confessors together, oh no. Because, you see, Confessors will lose control of their powers in moments of great distress or great delight (I won't bore you by listing all the times Kahlan is shown in great distress yet has full control over her powers) and thus can never have sex with anyone who isn't already Confessed because she'll lose control and enslave them. She could never do that to anyone she really loves (meaning she doesn't give a s#!t about people she isn't in love with) so that means she'll be Forever Alone. Sob. How do Confessors reproduce, then? Well, the old-fashioned way, but they choose a mate like one chooses a horse, and because they're the power in the Midlands, no one can deny them. She literally just decides "I like this guy. He'll make a good husband." And then she Confesses him against his will, and he spends the rest of his life as the Confessor's sex slave. His family, if he had one? They're given money but they're robbed of a loving husband and father. And there's nothing they can do about it, because the Confessors hold literally all the power. People are deathly afraid of Confessors due to this, among other things.

In other words, they reproduce by mentally and then physically raping men. So, the caveat I've heard people use in meager defense of these books that no matter how bad the heroes are, the villains are worse because they're all rapists...yeah, so are the g*dd*mned heroes! Why doesn't Goodkind recognize this? Probably because he thinks men can't be raped.

But! IT GETS F@CKING WORSE.

Why are there no male Confessors? Because a male Confessor would be way more powerful than a female one, because reasons. Same reasons why men are much more powerful at magic in general than women are in this world (see, there's that misogyny Goodkind insists he doesn't have). He'd be so powerful the power would drive him insane. When a Confessor gives birth to a son, she and her husband perform a ritual murder. I'm not describing it, because I can't hardly stand to think of it.

And the worst thing of all? We're supposed to be on the Confessors' side. Not just Kahlan, the very idea of Confessors. Now, spoilers, but at the beginning of the story all Confessors but Kahlan have been murdered by Darken Rahl's men, and we're supposed to be sad about this and think Rahl is even worse because of it. To me, it makes him sympathetic, but all good characters just luuuuuuv the Confessors and they're meant to stand for all that's right. Under their horrifying rule, the Midlands are supposed to be better off than if Darken Rahl takes over. Kahlan might angst over her powers a bit (okay, a lot), but not because of what she does with it each time she expends her power, not because she's ruining lives including those of innocent people, but because the power makes people hate and fear her, and because her power means she'll be Forever Alone. Just shut up, Kahlan, I don't care. You damn well deserve it and you know it, but we're supposed to feel bad for poor widdle you that the people you rape and abuse are hateful toward you for it. Like I said earlier, when her half-brother expresses his very valid and correct opinion that the Confessors don't deserve to remain in power, she denounces him as mad and sentences him to be executed. And we're supposed to think this is a good thing!

This happens in the fourth book, but by this time we've seen her order so many deaths and shown such a callous disregard for any lives but her own and Richard's that it barely registers. After all, this is the same book in which she's literally planning on killing a young woman from Richard's village. Kahlan is such a monster that I'm not sure how Goodkind's readers don't see this. I've seen Kahlan praised as an example of a strong fantasy heroine, and even seen some people suggest that one of the reason she's disliked by people like me is that we're threatened by strong female protagonists. I think you know my answer to that one. I've even seen people talk about the Confessor's power as being really cool. It reminds me of the mindset I was in when I read the first book; don't think about it too much. If I had only applied more thought then to what I was reading, I think I would have put the book down early. Certainly after learning what Confessors do.

Now, remember how she described her power as the power of love? Remember how that's not at all what her power really is? Well, let's talk about the scene where she actually does use her power on Richard, as the prophecy foretold.

The thing is, at this point Richard is under a spell that makes him look like Darken Rahl, and translates everything he says into the language High D'Haran, so Kahlan really thinks he is Darken Rahl and he can't tell her different. She expends her power into him, and the spell drops, and she realizes she's just Confessed Richard. And...

....he remains unchanged. He's unaffected by her power because, get this...he already is that deeply in love with her. So this means that this terrible mind-raping power she has actually is what Goodkind thinks love is! Or, no, it isn't, because Richard never behaves like a confessed person after this. Goodkind knows that a Confessed person isn't in love but possessed and subsumed by the power, but in Richard's case, he's back to calling it "love". It's like he can call the power "love" and then get away with her power not changing Richard because he's already as in love with her as he can be and he expects we'll forget about how other Confessed people have behaved. Read how Kahlan describes it above, how Brophy the wolf describes it feeling. Does any of it apply to Richard and how he feels and behaves toward Kahlan, before that point or any after? No, it doesn't. He acts toward her like any man would to his wife. There's no question he loves her (even if it's incredibly unrealistic how fast that happens) but he clearly hasn't been mind-raped like all of Kahlan's other victims. Goodkind just needed a reason why Kahlan's power doesn't work on Richard, so he called it "the power of love" and wrote around it. This is how a hack would get around that issue.

So, as an example of a strong female protagonist, in fantasy or in literature in general, Kahlan fails. As a heroine, she fails. As a person, she fails. She's just about a worse failure than even Richard, and that is truly saying something.

But we're not done. The next two character studies will reveal still more bats#!t insanity.

Richard Cypher: Neither the Hero We Need, nor the One We Deserve

Pleased to meet you. I'm Gary Stu.

Meet our hero, the one and only Richard Cypher.

Richard is a young woods guide. His mother died in a fire when he was young, and he was mostly raised by his father George, along with his older brother Michael.

He's never been farther from his home, the pastoral community of Heartland, than the Upper Ven forest, which is right next to it. This makes him very different from every fantasy hero before him except for Frodo Baggins, Taran, Ged, Shea and Wil Ohmsford, Garion, Pug, Simon Mooncalf, Paksennarion, Rand al'Thor, Alain, Eragon, and Tavi, among numerous others.

It is at this point that I would like to remind you all that Terry Goodkind does not write fantasy, especially not "typical" fantasy.

Richard is also a master huntsman, swordsman, poet, linguist, roofer, carpenter, emperor, football player (really!) and sculptor.

Needless to say, he's also described as very tall, smolderingly handsome and a man who instantly draws the eye the moment he enters any room.

So, basically, he's a Mary Sue.

If you've never heard that term, I'll attempt to explain it, bearing in mind that there's no official definition and many characters described as Mary Sues aren't really such at all.

The nickname Mary Sue is a derogatory name for a fan fiction character added as a clear author self-insert who is usually an idealized version of the author themselves, or perhaps a picture of everything the author wishes they were. Mary Sues are usually Very Special, in some way, and are often marked out by being especially attractive, usually with some defining feature that makes them stand out. It might be an odd hair color or eye color, or a cool scar, or some other such thing.

Mary Sues, also called Gary Stu or Marty Stu if the character is male, are generally flawless with the possible exception of token flaws meant to be endearing or something that makes them more sympathetic, like a heroic version of PTSD or something.

Sues are awesome at everything they try to do, and usually end up being better at whatever it is than they have any right to be. A Sue who's never flown a plane will somehow instinctively manage to safely land a plummeting aircraft. A Sue who's never fired a gun will have perfect aim.

But the key defining feature of a Sue is that they are always, always, depicted as being in the right, even if they wouldn't be in real life. If a Sue ends up stealing the love interest of another character, that's okay because clearly the Sue is the better love interest. If a Sue comes up with a ridiculous plan full of holes, that won't matter because the plan will go off without a hitch. It doesn't matter what negative personality traits a Sue displays (usually not intentional, but present because the author doesn't notice them), they are never called out on it. If the Sue behaves in haughty, selfish or short-sighted ways, everyone ends up apologizing to them for upsetting them.

Worse yet, other characters will endlessly talk about how great a person the Sue is. You'll know you're dealing with a Sue if characters are repeatedly talking about the character even if they're not on page.

But you're probably wondering, "If it's a fanfic term, then how could it be applied here? After all, Goodkind created this series and this character." True, but just because a work is original doesn't mean a character can't be a Sue. This happens all the time when professional writers end up falling prey to the same traps a fanfic writer might; they end up making their lead characters everything they think they are, or want to be, and thus, end up making Sues of their own. This is sometimes called a Canon Sue, but ultimately it works out the same.

From practically the first book, we are hit repeatedly over the head with reminders of how Very Special Richard is. Multiple characters say things like "you're a very rare person, Richard" or "there aren't many men like Richard" or some such. And it goes without saying that all the heroes luv him. Kahlan is his One True Love, Zedd is the father he deserves (it goes without saying that his father dies; in fact is already dead on page one of book one), his friend Chase, whose real name is Dell Brandstone (he of the brooding soap opera good looks), thinks he's the smartest, most capable man he knows, and throughout the series we can tell whether or not a character is meant to be sympathetic by whether or not they revere Richard, or at least have earned his approval.

Later in the books, Richard becomes a wizard, but not just any wizard, oooh no. Then he wouldn't be Special. He's a War Wizard, the first born in over a thousand years, and his magic (which he uses instinctively without training) is more powerful than any other wizard's, because of course it is. This means the rules of magic, such as they are in this story, don't apply to him. But then, no rules apply to him.

But worse than being a Sue, Richard is also perhaps one of the most awful human beings to ever be a fantasy protagonist.

Let's unpack this a bit. The series is called The Sword of Truth and the TV series it was adapted into is called Legend of the Seeker. We've already discussed what the Sword is and that Richard is given the Sword and becomes the Seeker, but now let's talk a bit about what being a Seeker means, and how the Sword works on the Seeker. Because it's really here that Richard becomes something that truly is unlike any other protagonist, just not in the way Goodkind intends.

First, the Seeker; it's a position created by the wizards of old (I think) who made the Sword (I believe) because they needed a universal symbol for truth. The Seeker is a law unto himself (all Seekers have been men, apparently, though early dialogue seems to indicate it's not a male-only position) and is charged with seeking truth and rooting out corruption and lies where he finds them. Sounds like a pretty important thing to do, but listen to how Goodkind gives it to us.

The power of the Sword makes Richard angry. Like, really angry. Because apparently what you need to be the ultimate discerner of truth from lies is barely repressed homicidal rage. But is it the Sword doing this or is it just drawing out Richard's natural anger? It's hard to say because depending on the scene, Goodkind essentially writes it both ways. Frequently Richard gets angry even without the Sword, so it's not like he needs it in order to give into the rage.

So, anyway, because of his great anger, or something, Richard is supposed to be able to have a higher sense of what is true and what is false. At least, that's what characters keep saying about him. Richard is the poster child for the idea of "informed ability", which is to say that characters keep bragging on his wisdom, his clarity of thinking, his gentleness (yes, the raging homicidal maniac is apparently gentle), his patience, etc., yet he displays few of these qualities himself, and never consistently. What does he display instead?

Well, he's a self-insert for Goodkind, which the author himself admits, so he displays a lot of the same qualities Goodkind possesses, including:

• An ego that likely has achieved its own orbit
• An absolute certainty that he is right and those who oppose him are wrong
• An ability to launch into a self-righteous speech at the drop of a hat
• A belief that those who stand against him for any reason are unquestionably wrong, and likely deserving of death
• A casual attitude toward the idea of slaughtering millions, as long as he believes they deserve it
• A willingness to dismiss the horror of what Confessors do with their power, despite the fact that he would absolutely be disgusted by any other group doing the same (we'll cover this in the next post)
• A patronizing approach to those on his side who he assumes know less than he does about everything and/or would be helpless without his protection

And, though this rarely happens overtly, a sense from the entire narrative that Richard is naturally owed something. Success, deference, whatever. There seems to be an overarching paradigm that everyone who meets Richard and Kahlan should immediately understand them to be the protagonists and thus owed allegiance. You almost expect Richard to shout "Don't you people understand? I'm the hero of this story! The story is about me! I can't be evil! No matter what I do!" He doesn't say those words, but he sure as hell has that attitude.

Richard is, simply put, always right. Even if he's wrong, he's written as if he's right. He's the designated hero, so whatever action he takes is the right one. There are exceptions, but in almost every case, it's Richard himself that realizes he's erred. He's never taught lessons. He's the teacher. He never learns anything. He educates others. Who cares that he was just a simple woods guide when Kahlan met him? He's now a better warrior than lifelong warriors, a better ruler than all emperors, a better man than all other men.

At least, this is how Goodkind writes him, and how other characters react to him. Now let's talk about how he actually is.

He's basically a homicidal maniac with delusions of grandeur, a despotic dictator who could be presented as a villain in any other story without a single action changed. And don't believe what you've heard about him becoming this in later stories. No, it's a part of his character from the earliest parts of the first book. When he first protects Kahlan from an attack, he murders one of her attackers and feels no remorse because he is certain that the man deserved it. He has no idea who Kahlan is, but he knows she deserves to be protected and that the men trying to kill her deserve to die. How does Richard know that these men aren't attacking her because she, say, killed their families, or something? Because she's pretty? Pretty people are always good, right Goodkind? I mean, I've seen photos of you. Is that really a road you want to go down?

Richard has absolutely zero reason to immediately assume Kahlan's innocence and even less to murder her attackers. But it's not the murder itself I object to. It's the lack of remorse afterward. Sure, he came to the rescue of an unarmed woman being attacked by armed men, and they weren't exactly in the mood to explain themselves, and one could argue he killed in self defense, but still, a humble woods guide who's never killed anyone before? And he's totally cool with it.

It continues throughout. Richard's first thought when encountering any adversity is to whip out his sword and start threatening people. He does this on numerous occasions, including against random mooks who don't even work for the bad guy, and a few times actually acts on those threats. And I mean any adversity, not just any threat of violence. At one point he threatens to slaughter an entire village of peaceful aboriginal people because they might not take sides in his conflict with Darken Rahl. Their argument is that while they don't trust Rahl, Richard has given them no reason to trust him. And he hasn't! But he expects them to ally with him simply because he's the hero of this story.

And here's the real kicker. Richard is capital-D dumb. I mean, the most obvious stuff it takes him multiple chapters to grasp, and he only manages to look smart by everyone around him being dumber than he is. That, and constant assurances by other characters that he's a brilliant man. I can't count the number of times Richard comes to a "brilliant" realization that readers already had ten chapters ago, only for the other characters to act as if they've never seen such amazing mental acuity. I've already talked about him taking an entire book to realize that Kahlan hasn't fallen out of love with him but is trying to protect him. Here's another example; early in Wizard's First Rule, Richard learns about Darken Rahl's conquest of the Midlands, his killing of innocents and raping women, his outlawing of fire (oh, yes, more on this later) and poisoning of red fruit (this too). And of course, his latest bid for ultimate power with his magical MacGuffins (much more on this later). And he decides he must kill Rahl. He actually becomes quite dedicated to this, calling it his life's purpose and making a number of speeches about Rahl's evil and how all must stand with him because Rahl will certainly hurt and kill them.

Here's the problem; all he knows about Rahl, literally all of it, he learns from Kahlan and Zedd. And why is that an issue? Because he's just met Kahlan and definitely doesn't know for a fact that she's trustworthy, and he's just learned that Zedd has been lying to him his entire life. But does he even momentarily question their story? He does not! And we're talking about a book whose central thrust is that people will believe anything given the right motivation; they want it to be true or are afraid it might be true. If you think this means Richard is going to learn by then end not to be so trusting, you'd be wrong. That would imply Richard has something to learn. Instead, the resolution has to do with him defeating the man deceiving everyone, naturally.

So Richard is dumb, but everyone around him is dumber, so they think he's smart. It's a natural side-effect of Goodkind being far less brilliant than he believes himself to be. But worse than dumb, he's essentially a villain protagonist, a tautological Templar who believes, and is always portrayed as, being right even when his actions are more heinous than the villains. For that matter, sometimes his actions are worse. Say what you will about a later arch-villain, Emperor Jagang (really only a few steps down from "Darken Rahl" on the obviously-evil-naming scale), the man knows how to treat his troops. Richard? He acts like Goodkind does with his fans; they owe him something because he's so great, and he's not often sure they're worthy of him.

And I have only just barely mentioned Richard's penchant for speech-making. It starts off not so bad. He only makes a couple such speeches in the first book. By the second he's openly threatening war with a nation he knows nothing about, threatening actions he can in no way back up. By book three, he is openly declaring anyone who doesn't want to be ruled by him to be the enemy in speeches that cross chapters. In book four, he even has a good man executed and an entire town destroyed because they have no desire to trade one dictator for another. Oddly enough, in book five, he lets a nation choose between him and the Imperial Order (so named because Goodkind is original), and just pronounces them doomed to the consequences of their own choice. I haven't read the eighth book, Naked Empire, but I have heard some awful things about it, including that Richard at one point literally slices and dices his way through a whole village of unarmed innocents who stand guilty merely of siding with someone who isn't Richard. As Goodkind describes them, they are "armed only with their hatred for moral clarity."

Now, I'm a fan of the anti-hero. I love books that raise moral questions by having the protagonist act in a questionable manner, and dare the reader to decide what makes them right, or even if they are. I love it when heroes are just really flawed people who happen to have a better moral compass than the villains. I love it when villains are presented as well-intentioned extremists, who fully believe they're the good guy.

The problem? Richard isn't an anti-hero, or at least he's not supposed to be. He's supposed to represent "the nobility of the human spirit", a phrase Goodkind is in love with despite not knowing anything about nobility. If Richard is a picture of the human spirit, than the human spirit is petulant, demanding, self-centered, vindictive and overall horrendous. Goodkind has not presented this murderous lunatic as a picture of a hero gone wrong, but as the ultimate ideal of what a true hero should be. The views he espouses are Goodkind's views, unfiltered, coming through Richard's mouth almost word for word, even including words that a simple woods guide in a parallel pre-industrial society really shouldn't know, like "chain reaction", and in multiple interviews Goodkind has held him up as someone readers should be looking up to, should be inspired by.

Yeah. Not on your life. In fact, I have encountered many Goodkind readers who seem to actually think Richard is meant to be an evil protagonist and they "love" how Goodkind has played with our expectations like that. If, in fact, Goodkind was attempting to be subversive and get us cheering for the bad guy, I'd probably appreciate him a lot more. But he's not meant to raise any moral questions. He's there to exemplify what Goodkind sees as morally upright. He's not a flawed man who has a conscience. He's a perfect man who doesn't need a conscience. And he is the extremist villain who thinks he's the hero. It's just that this time, the author believes it, too.

Now, some of this comes from Goodkind's radical devotion to Objectivism, and we'll certainly talk about that before it's all over, but ultimately, Objectivism isn't to blame here, because as much as that philosophy could account for Richard's unflagging notion that he's correct and the world is wrong, Ayn Rand still did not advocate genocide or despotism. In fact, Objectivism detests both. Goodkind is just a really screwed up guy.

And Richard is his screwed up, evil, dictatorial, morally incorruptible pure hero. A Marty Stu only a truly nasty guy could support.

My Goodkind Experience

The covers range from excellent to cringe-worthy. All contents are the latter.

It's time to talk about what happened to me when I tried reading Terry Goodkind's epic fantasy to end all epic fantasies, The Sword of Truth.

So I was somewhere in my mid twenties and I hadn't read fantasy for some time, but I did still love reading and as I've already said, I still had a love for the fantasy I'd grown up with. I already talked about the experience of seeing the cover of Wizard's First Rule, hearing a section or two from it and realizing I wanted to experience fantasy again.

Now we'll talk about what happened when I actually started reading it. At the time, Naked Empire was the most recent release, and I bought all the books in the series up to that one shortly after beginning Wizard. Now, it probably looks like I'm leaving a book out in the series, as this photo includes the prequel novella Debt of Bones, which I didn't buy and haven't read. Debt of Bones was written several years later and details the backstory of the mentor character, Zedd. More on him later. Muuuuuch more.

Let me do my best to cast my mind back about fifteen years and try to recall how I felt and what I experienced when I opened the book and began reading.

First, the good. It seemed to move very quickly, and I've heard a number of other reviewers say the same. I am not sure why it felt that way, exactly, as attempts to re-read even sections of it today make it seem very repetitive and draggy. But at the time it felt pretty kinetic and it wasn't long before I realized I was halfway through it. And it's a very large book. It's 297,250 words long, which works out to about 848 pages in paperback. That's monstrous. And it didn't take me long to read it at all. I'm not sure why, but I think I have an inkling, which I'll talk about more in the bad stuff section.

Other stuff I liked: I actually agreed with the main principle of the titular First Rule, which states:

People are stupid; given proper motivation, almost anyone will believe almost anything. Because people are stupid, they will believe a lie because they want to believe it's true, or because they are afraid it might be true. People’s heads are full of knowledge, facts, and beliefs, and most of it is false, yet they think it all true. People are stupid; they can only rarely tell the difference between a lie and the truth, and yet they are confident they can, and so are all the easier to fool.

Okay, so it's a bit wordy and roundabout, seems a bit repetitive, but it's actually pretty true. Now, I've seen some Goodkind detractors get all worked up about this rule, suggesting that this is another way of Goodkind declaring himself the smartest man who ever lived. But I think they miss the central point here. It's not that people, as a rule, are brainless morons. It's that we are all of us susceptible to  various logical fallacies that we don't notice unless we someone else fall into them. Confirmation bias is one such trap that it's all too easy to fall into, no matter how well educated you are or how much common sense you usually have. Confirmation bias is a way we trick ourselves into believing we're right no matter how much evidence to the contrary is presented; we look only for the information that confirms our pre-existing beliefs and try to pretend the conflicting information either doesn't exist or doesn't matter.

Mark Twain has a couple of quotes that are pretty apropos: "If you don't read the newspaper, you're uninformed. If you do read the newspaper, you're misinformed." As well as "It is easier to fool a person than to convince a person that they have been fooled." Smart man, Mr. Twain. Men in Black had this to say about the notion that "people are smart": "A person is smart. People are panicky, dangerous animals and you know it."

All of which to say that I was able to agree with the rule, which is also the central theme of the book, and thus forgave a lot of stuff I wouldn't forgive if I had been a bit older and a bit more discerning.

Final "good" thing: somehow, maybe due to my age, maybe due to my not having read fantasy for a while, and maybe because I had a tendency at the time to get invested in a book's protagonist for no other reason than that they were the protagonist, I managed to get suckered into caring about Richard, Kahlan and Zedd. I don't just think, I know, that if I had read these books as a 40-year-old man, I wouldn't have been able to stand either character. But at the time, I wanted to see them succeed.

In fact, this touches on what I've already said; that many readers I've encountered over the years will tell you that the first book, or even the first few, are very good, and it's only later that the series goes off the rails. I haven't asked each one of them about this, but when I have, unfailingly I find that they started reading them as young teens or even children, and that they haven't gone back and read them again as adults. These "heroes" are the kind of heroes you can only enjoy if you're a child and define "hero" as "the main character". Or you've drunk the Goodkoolaid.

So now, the bad, and by that I mean stuff I noticed even then and forgave because I wanted to like what I was reading:

Much of the book felt like badly written fanfic. The dialogue and even much of the prose felt stilted and unnatural, like Goodkind was writing fantasy the way he thinks fantasy has to be written, and that he wasn't even trying to find his own voice. Contractions hardly exist. People don't smile, they "give a smile". Everyone talks like they're in a play written by a high school student who's trying to reproduce period-style dialogue. It's like Goodkind believes that Tolkien, who truly did know how to communicate in a poetic style, and Jordan, who was known for his florid language and description, were the way fantasy writers write, and did his best to imitate them. Heck, even the setting feels chosen because pseudeo-medieval invented worlds are where fantasy takes place. There's a dragon, because of course there is. The feeling of "it's fantasy, so I gotta do this" also showed up with Goodkind's tendency to play Fantasy Mad-Libs with place names. In order to get to the Palace of the Prophets one has to travel through the Valley of the Lost and past the Towers of Perdition. I'm making none of that up.

This all becomes even funnier when you realize that Goodkind is apparently under the impression that he's not writing fantasy.

Much of this is subjective, and I will be discussing this more as we go, so I'm just gonna leave it at that for now. I will say, however, as I promised I would, that this style of writing seemed to encourage me to just accept what was going on and not think too much about it. "Don't take it too seriously; it's fantasy, after all". I think this is what greatly contributed to how fast I read it. It also contributed to how easily so much of the bad escaped me.

Then there were the characters. Now, as much as Goodkind suckered me into getting invested in Richard, Kahlan and Zedd's quest, the fact is that I could tell from the start that the characters in this thing just don't act like people. How do they act? However Goodkind needs them to at any given moment.

This shows up in minor ways in the early sections of the book. Richard gets a poison thorn in his hand practically on the first page, and yet we're several chapters in before he even tries to have it removed. When he takes Kahlan to his brother Michael's house, where he's holding a gathering, there's a scene where she thinks some men are following she and Richard as they walk through the crowd, so to test this, she asks Richard to get her some cheese. He walks to the food table and gets her a wedge, and this confirms to her that it was Richard who was being watched, as they keep their eyes on him as he goes to the table. When he brings back the cheese, she drops it on the floor and explains that she hates cheese, and that the whole thing was to test the men.

Let me go into detail on this one because it's just so stupid. It turns out the men are household guards of his brother Michael, and that they have been ordered to watch him in case anyone tries to harm him. Richard knows this. He could have explained this to Kahlan, or if he didn't think to, she could have just whispered "don't look now, but there are men watching us", or if she absolutely had to ask him to go to the food table, she could have asked for food she liked, or at the very least not just dropped the freakin' cheese on the floor! People don't act this way!

Then there's Zedd, an eccentric old man who when we first meet him, Richard thinks about his "reason chair", which is where he sits when he tries to come up with reasons why things happen. Once he apparently sat in the chair for three days trying to come up with a reason why people count the stars.

Is this really such an issue that it's worth the effort of pondering it nonstop for three days? Are people really arguing that much about the number of stars in the heavens? Or at all? Was that a thing even back in the equivalent time period? Is this such a common argument that Zedd just had to know why people want to know the answer?

Later in the book, Kahlan learns a prophecy that she will at some point use her power on Richard. We'll discuss later what her power is, because it's worthy of its own post (hint: it's gonna be bad), but she is so overcome with guilt knowing that some day she will use her power on him that she...she...

She immediately becomes suicidal. Now, there's a ton of evidence that Goodkind has not spent much time around people who don't share his interests and outlook on life, but this is just weird. People don't become suicidal because they think something bad is going to happen if they live. Suicide is usually, in fact pretty much always, caused by a mental condition like anxiety or depression. Hearing a prophecy that you're going to something you know you'd never willingly do under normal circumstances should have caused Kahlan to try and figure out whether the prophecy's wording allowed for leeway in her actions, or if there might be a set of circumstances in which she would do so. Instead she just starts looking for ways to kill herself.

I was also put off by the sword from which the series draws its title. Richard is judged to be the new Seeker, and again, we'll detail what a Seeker is in a future post but right now all that's important is that the Sword of Truth is basically the Seeker's badge of office, but it's more than that because it's a magic sword that allows one to seek the truth.

See, the Seeker is supposed to be someone who can instinctively see the truth, and the sword is how he enacts justice. The sword will only work if he is 100% certain that the person he's using it on deserves to be killed. If he does judge so, the sword kills quickly and efficiently, whereas if he doubts the justice the sword will stop itself short of even touching the person. This...this isn't truth. It's just perception. And forget about whether or not truth is decided by the Seeker; Richard shows himself unable to see even some absurdly simple truths several times in the story for the sole reason that Goodkind needed him to be fooled in order for him to get past a certain plot point.

There were other touches that threw me as well. Quite a few times scenes took a sudden swerve because Goodkind didn't know how to write scene direction in a natural or organic way. Conversations between characters suddenly take a weird direction because Goodkind wants the subject brought up. Many times a character, plot device, etc., that hadn't been mentioned for several chapters would suddenly be on a character's mind (usually Richard's) which was how you could tell it/they were about to make another appearance. That's how Goodkind does foreshadowing.

The whole thing reeks of a first draft, and oddly enough, even Goodkind admits that's more or less what it is. Of course, when he says it, it's bragging. "Look at how great my first draft is!" But it's not great if a layperson like yours truly can tell it's (almost) a first draft. We'll discuss more about this in a post that covers Goodkind's path to being published, but it's still kind of a mystery to me how it happened, let alone how his series became such a hit.

Then there are the scenes that had me sit up and go "oh come on!"

For starters, there's a scene wherein Gollum is introduced. Okay, so his name is Samuel, not Smeagol, and it's the Sword of Truth that is his precious, not the One Ring, and he repeatedly screeches "Mine! Gimme!" instead if "My precious!" but come on, he's Gollum. He's so Gollum that you can't even suggest he's based on the idea of a Gollum-esque creature because all he is is Gollum, lifted wholesale from The Lord of the Rings, re-named and used in exactly the same way, but with no actual point to the character. It would be the same as if I was writing a book and included a weaver named Rear End who was given the head of a donkey by a faerie but denied I was copying Shakespeare. Some of Goodkind's defenders say this was clearly meant as an homage to Gollum, or even a parody, but one doesn't pay homage to or parody something merely by copying it. There isn't a single original twist on Samuel except that he doesn't actually appear again after his introduction, and the only lesson Richard takes from him is that he's now worried the Sword will do the same thing to him, and wondering why he wasn't told this when he took the Sword. Never mind that the Sword up until now has displayed absolutely none of the narcotic traits that the One Ring had from almost the moment it was introduced. And never mind that it becomes clear as the series goes on that Goodkind has no intent of even threatening to turn Richard into a Gollum.

Believe me, I'll have far more to say about Goodkind and plagiarism.

Then there's almost the entirety of the scenes taking place in Tamarang, a nation (state?) ruled by Queen Milena, who is cartoonishly evil. We meet her vile daughter, Princess Violet, who is worse than her mother at seeming like she was created to be a Disney antagonist, and there's Rachel, Violet's personal slave who is just the most pwecious widdle fing in all the wowld. Rachel is shamelessly meant to provoke reactions of "awwwww!" from readers, combined with "that poor little girl!" but all she inspired from me was nausea, because she's written as being so saccharinely adorable that the kids from Full House and Dondi from the funny pages look like Hell's Angels in comparison. Kids like this don't exist, and every time we had a scene from her point of view, I was gagging repeatedly over her use of words like "bestest" and "mean" (anyone who's evil is "mean" in her words), not to mention how she was blatantly used as a way to tell good people from bad, because all the characters we're supposed to like instantly love Rachel, and all the villainous characters mistreat her.

I also have to mention that Richard and Kahlan fall in love over the course of the course of...oh, who am I kidding, over the course of the first few chapters. Richard's practically in love with her moments after meeting her. It doesn't feel real or natural in the slightest, but well before this book is over you're clearly supposed to think of Richard and Kahlan as being a picture of what real love looks like. There will be far more on this in the posts where I talk about the characters.

Late in the novel, there's a torture scene that goes on for 80 pages, give or take. Now, I'm no prude. I've read some dark stuff before. But that's the problem; the repetitive torture isn't written like we're supposed to be horrified, nor is it used to show that Richard has been brought to his lowest point. It's written like torture porn. I'm serious. Richard's torturer is a hot, sexy woman who tortures him with a phallic symbol while we're given lurid descriptions of her bangin' bod and the way her tight leather outfit hugs her curves. And on top of that, her torture of Richard involves sexual situations. It's a BDSM-lover's wet dream, and it goes on and on and on. I only kept reading because I'd been forewarned, but even I got to the point of skipping ahead to see how much longer this was going to take. And what was the point? Hardly anything. Certainly nothing that justified 80 pages. During this time, however, there's an infamous scene of Richard kicking a little girl in the face.

This gets talked about a lot by detractors. "There's a scene where the hero kicks a little girl almost to death and we're supposed to be on his side!" Well, yeah. But the kid he kicks is Princess Violet, who I've already said is so evil she's a cartoon, and he kicks her because his torturer lets Violet take over at one point. Violet takes great joy in tormenting Richard, and at one point tells him that once they've captured Kahlan, she's going to give her to her soldiers for them all to take turns raping her. Yeah. A kid says this. So, while I can see why Richard would kick her, I can't believe this kid would ever exist anywhere but in Goodkind's imagination, and increasingly it became less and less a place I wanted to be.

Which leads me to another huge issue: rape. I hate even typing that word. Rape is the worst sort of evil one can commit. It's worse than murder. And Goodkind is obsessed with it.

He probably feels like he's illustrating how bad rape is by repeatedly having the villains of this piece threaten or actually commit rape. I mean all the villains, even random mooks Richard and Kahlan encounter in a bar. The central villain commits so much (thankfully off-page) rape that he has bastard children throughout his empire, and his right-hand man isn't just a rapist but a pedophile. In later books, villains who think of themselves as heroic are shown as perfectly willing to commit rape, and not just commit it but talk about their plans to rape women and laugh and joke about it with their fellows. This isn't how rapists operate. Rape is so wrong that everyone knows it's wrong including those who commit it. That's why they come up with reasons why what they did doesn't count as rape. People don't laugh or joke about the rapes they've committed.

After a short while it starts to feel like rape is just a way to tell who the bad guys are. This does the exact opposite of showing rape to be a serious issue. Instead it cheapens it. Several times throughout the books, a person makes a face-heel turn, and the first thing they do upon revealing themselves to be evil is to attempt a rape. I'd say it's the one crime our heroes aren't guilty of, but I haven't gotten into just what a Confessor is yet. Trust me, there's plenty to say about all this and more about the atrocities committed by the heroes that will be coming in later posts.

The last thing I noticed right off is Goodkind's odd manner of naming his characters. Most of them have simple, straightforward names like Richard, Michael, George, etc. but one of the men from Richard's village is named "Dell Brandstone" which sounds like a soap opera bad boy, and his friend, the mysterious Zedd, is actually named Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander, which is a name that sounds not just made up, but made up on the spot. At one point, Kahlan comments on how his name doesn't sound like he's from around these parts, but it turns out the place he's from has names like Milena, Violet, Rachel, Giller, Harold, Neville Ranson, Bradley Ryan, etc. There's no attempt to make the names he comes up with sound remotely like they have any rhyme or reason to them. Tommy Callahan and Ordivan Griste can come from the same village. Harry and Simon can be two people from opposite sides of the world and completely different backgrounds.

But the worst of the names has got to be our central bad guy: Darken Rahl.

Did Goodkind come up with that name for the character after rejecting Mustacious Twirlio or Baddy McBadderson?

Then there's the way the first book ended. All I'm gonna say for now is:

This is stuff I noticed even on my first reading. It doesn't get better with time. As for the other books, it was more of the same but with more insulting of the reader's intelligence. By the second book Stone of Tears, Richard is already acting like he's the Head Man in Charge and giving fiery speeches about what he will do to people if they don't comply with him, something he would become all too known for in later volumes. You'd never know that just a year prior he was a simple woods guide who shouldn't even be able to read (yet can) or understand concepts more complicated than what it takes to survive in the woods.

But when Goodkind needs him to grab the idiot ball, grab it he does, and with both hands. Throughout the second book, Richard believes that Kahlan no longer loves him. This is because at the start of the book, three sorceresses show up saying that Richard has innate magic abilities that he can't control and that if he doesn't learn to control, will kill him. The problem is that in order to train him, they insist he wear a collar that they can use to keep him utterly under their control. Thanks to Richard's torture in the last book, he has no intention of ever wearing a collar again, but Kahlan angrily insists that he wear it and that he go with them. This is transparently because Kahlan doesn't want him to die. We do get a scene from Kahlan's perspective where she confirms this to the reader, but we don't need it. Richard, evidently, does, as it takes him most of the book to realize that Kahlan was trying to protect him because she loves him.

Actually, it's less that Richard gribs the idiot ball and more like he carries it around with him and only occasionally misplaces it. Kahlan as well, for that matter, despite how both of them are frequently described as being very intelligent. Goodkind has to tell us this, rather than show it, because to write intelligent characters requires intelligence on the part of the writer, and Goodkind is the sort of man who's always having to explain and re-explain what he "really meant".

By the time I got to Blood of the Fold, the third novel in the series, I was really noticing these flaws, and the effect of reading quickly and not thinking too much about what I was reading was exhausted. I was already not crazy about continuing to read when I got to the third book, and only stuck with it out of a sense of obiligation; I'd spent the money, and now I had to read them. This was the case for the fourth book, Temple of the Winds, as well. I hated it from page one, and kept finding excuses to do anything except read it. I eventually did get through it, months later, and I've already told you that by the fifth book, Soul of the Fire, I was done.

In the next few posts, I'm going to give you some character study for the central character, Richard Cypher, his love interest Kahlan Amnell, their mentor Zedd and the villainous Darken Rahl (dun DUN DUNNNNN!). I want to compare and contrast how they're written vs. how Goodkind thinks of them and how we the readers are supposed to think and feel about them.

It's gonna be sooooooo much fun.

"You're Just Jealous"

You may think you're cool. But you'll never be "old bald man with shades, a turtleneck and a hipster beard cool".

I figure I'd better get this out of the way before Goodkind's rabid defenders hurl this accusation at me.

"You're just mad because you're jealous of Terry Goodkind's success!"

Uh...sure.

Allow me to say only this in response: if jealousy were my principle motivator, I would neither start with Goodkind, nor would I end with him. There are lots of authors doing gangbuster business who I'm not a fan of. I could just as easily make this kind of website about Stephanie Meyer, or EL James, or anyone who's made a ton of money writing dreck. Heck, I don't even consider Goodkind to be the worst fantasy author making money right now.

"Jealousy" implies that I wish I could do what he does, and get the same rewards for it that he does. Quite the opposite, really. Whatever I do in life, I set out to do it better than Goodkind does it, both because I don't think he produces quality work and because I have a feeling that no matter what else is true of Goodkind's success, he handles it like a mentally impaired five-year-old child. I strive, and admittedly often do not succeed, to handle whatever happens to me, good and bad, with at least a modicum of grace and decorum.

I certainly don't strive to hold a narcissistic view of myself and the work that I do. I get the feeling from Goodkind that no matter what he had ended up doing in his life, he would claim he does it better than anyone else and become very upset with you if you ever suggested otherwise. I understand that before writing became his primary job, he made custom furniture and paintings of landscapes and wildlife. I don't know what quality they are because Google turns up nothing on either. But I gotta wonder; did he treat his customers the same way he treats his readers? Did he demand fawning praise and turn bitter and hostile if they had the slightest problem with it? Maybe that's why he doesn't do it anymore.

My reaction to Terry Goodkind isn't one of jealousy but sheer disbelief that a man can achieve the sort of success that he has and still be just so...damned...ungrateful. Few other authors demand their readers approach his work only a certain way. Few of them tell their fans that they are enjoying the book wrong. Few make grandiose, hyperbolic claims about the quality of their work that even the most generous of their professional reviews don't suggest are remotely true. And few, if any, resort to bashing their own publishers and claiming some sort of injustice done against them because their publisher chose to market their genre work in the genre appropriate.

Now, before I go too much further, with this post or with this blog, I need to point out that most of the more incendiary stuff Goodkind has to say is rather old at this point, in many cases over a decade. And he's made attempts within the past five or six years to kinda/sorta make up for or walk back some of the worse stuff he's said. So, some people, even if they're not ardent defenders of Goodkind who would gladly drink his spit and call it champagne, feel like he's already made amends for his earlier behavior, and we can all just move on.

This is what I mean when I say so few people are willing to take him to task. When I first saw the responses to his attempts to soften his statements, it really felt like most people were willing to just let him get away with it, despite the fact that he didn't apologize or own up to bad behavior. Instead, he moved the goalposts and tried to suggest he didn't actually say what he said, or if he did, he didn't mean it the way we all took it, and it's our fault for misunderstanding him. Worse yet, in the same thread, the old behavior continues. Even just this past January, he created a stir with some seriously unprofessional, childish behavior that shows he's learned nothing. He hasn't realized the full extent of just how wrong his actions and statements have been, and he still thinks he's God's gift to readers who should be kissing his feet because he's still writing stuff you plebs can consume.

Ultimately, I'm doing this to defend fantasy against men like Terry Goodkind. Goodkind is on trial for character assassination, and I'm the prosecuting attorney. I hope to deliver all the evidence I can offer to show that Goodkind, with malice aforethought, unfairly smeared my beloved genre, its writers, its publishers and its fans, all for the purpose of self-aggrandizement. If he wishes to offer a defense, I encourage him to do so.

In the process, I hope to make people understand that a man like Terry Goodkind does not deserve your money. Even if you think his books are good, or at least "not that bad", a so-called defense I've actually seen used to excuse continuing to read them, I want people to feel that none of the work he has produced excuses his behavior, and in fact should only damn him further.

Either that or I want him to fully realize the depth and breadth of his actions and sincerely apologize. Apologize for repeatedly, year after year, heaping insults on the genre that made him famous, other authors writing within it and readers who love it, all to stroke his own ego.

But as I believe Goodkind may actually have Narcissistic Personality Disorder, that's unlikely to happen. So I'll settle for ruining him, or at least making the game attempt.