What are three things your characters, especially your protagonist, must accomplish throughout the course of the novel? They must struggle, learn, and grow.

I recently read a highly lauded novel excited to read something fresh and meaningful. The descriptions were crisp and vivid, the plot compelling, the characters interesting and distinct, and the action heart-pounding and visceral. The story had me on the edge of my seat to know what would happen next. I flew through the book and devoured the two sequels. But each book left me feeling like something was missing.

I went back through the first book with a pen and took notes. Something was missing, and I was determined to find it. Not until the last few chapters did the answer dawn on me. The protagonist and all supporting characters felt like flat arc characters. At least, I struggled to see where any of them learned anything new past the beginning of the second act (the book had four).

I can excuse flat arc side characters (I suppose), but not the protagonist too. The protagonist, Darrow, was the strongest, most agile person anywhere he went. Even though his story was supposed to be a David-becomes-like-Goliath-to-defeat-Goliath-revenge story.

There were several related themes presented, but like the protagonist’s character, not fully developed. The protagonist wrestles with the concepts of vengeance versus justice. The concept of vengeance has a clear definition. In the first part of act 2, rejected as hollow and less meaningful than what the prognosis should peruse: Justice. The story actually prepares the protagonist well to opt for justice instead of vengeance.

But there is a major problem. They never define justice. They tossed the word around a lot, but the writer never allows his characters to either define it or differentiate it from vengeance. In the end, the protagonist chooses vengeance. The struggle, though somewhat vague, is for naught. All we can determine is that he believes that he and his family have been wronged and must punish those who wronged him.

 He meets people along the way who he physically associates with the wrong-doers, though by action, they stand apart. He still feels he must punish them because of the physical appearance and socio-economic association with those who wronged him. He doesn’t change his opinion based on meeting these good people. In fact, he become more entrenched in his original biases. There is a great deal of talk as well, in acts 3-4 about merit. Our protagonist whines about how merit only gets you so far if you are not from the right families or have the right connections but fails to see how he is no different in his assessment of others.

There is also the question of does the protagonist learns from his struggles. Well, yes, and no. He seems to learn one lesson: others will betray you. Betray them first. He is the Tamburlaine of his age. The embodiment of rage and rashness. He exacts vengeance on the gods of Olympus (literally) in the climactic battle of the book. And even though he’s tricked, he falls into several traps, he seems to outwit all of them in the end. Because he is the hero and must.

I loved act one and act two of the book. They set him up to be a sympathetic character who could change the world for the better. In acts three and four, instead we get the rage knight, the Hand of God, slaughtering his enemies because he can. It’s like watching a highly intelligent Hulk smash everything.

Because he knows or easily learns all of “Societies’ hard lessons, he doesn’t really grow. The protagonist goes from a sweet, ambitious, loving boy to a vengeance filled rage monster. And maybe that’s his arc. But I wouldn’t call it growth. Negative arc maybe. But that’s not what we’re meant to take away. We’re meant to see him as the hero and his actions as justified.

I plan to reread books two and three and see if the themes and characters develop further. I hope they do. The writing is spectacular, and the story is very entertaining. Lately, I just feel like stories are like a dulled blade, beautiful and shiny, but lacking a genuine point.