The Vulnerabilty Factor

According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, the word vulnerable comes from the Latin vulnerare, to wound. To be vulnerable is to be "capable of being physically or emotionally wounded." To be vulnerable is to be "open to attack or damage." Every male fictional character I've ever loved has been vulnerable. This includes the cold and deadly James Bond, who once loved a woman (On Her Majesty's Secret Service) enough to marry her and then weep when she was murdered. The vulnerability factor is what makes the "tough guys" of 1920s-40s films, such as James Cagney and Humphrey Bogart, sexy even though they are not the standard "tall, dark, and handsome" of romantic leads. The vulnerability factor is what makes every Gothic hero from Mr. Rochester in Jane Eyre to the vampires and werewolves of modern paranormal, men (and creatures) after a woman's heart. The vulnerability factor is why two pretentious, annoying, pompous male characters such as Frasier and Miles Crane, the social-climbing, psychiatrist brothers on the TV sit-com Frasier, could make us laugh and make us cry. It's why we ached for Frasier, who wanted so much to love and be loved, and cheered when Miles and Daphne eloped in the middle of her wedding. To paraphrase Martha Stewart (yes, I must), when it comes to fictional men -- and real ones too -- vulnerability is "a good thing."

In my own mystery series, I set out to write about a vulnerable woman who was trying to find her way in the world. My character, Lizzie Stuart, is a Ph.D., a crime historian/criminal justice professor. She grew up in a small town in Kentucky, raised by her grandparents. She spent much of her childhood and adolescence trying to live down the reputation of her teenage mother, who left town when Lizzie was five days old. When the series began, Lizzie did not know men, was a bit afraid of them, and not inclined to trust them. Then, on a vacation in Cornwall, England, she met John Quinn, ex-military police officer, big-city homicide cop, a White male to her Black female. The two things they had in common was a nose for murder and a shared determination to find the truth (integrity). But as Lizzie has discovered, Quinn has his own troubled past. It is Quinn's vulnerability that has allowed Lizzie to let down her defenses -- gradually, painfully, but inevitably.

Don't get me wrong. I am not stating a preference for weeping men who wear their battered hearts on their sleeves. I don't like heroes who spend pages sharing their sad stories with the heroines. I like a hero who is complex enough and intriguing enough to draw a strong, intelligent heroine to him. I like a hero who is a puzzle to be solved, a mystery to be unraveled. I like a hero who protects (and allows himself to be protected), and who is brave enough to finally open his heart to love in spite of the dangers. That's how I define the "vulnerability factor."

Some Classic "Vulnerable" Film Heroes:
Humphrey Bogart in Key Largo
Gary Cooper in High Noon
Sidney Poitier and Rod Steiger in The Heat of the Night

Who is on your list of vulnerable heroes, past and present?

Frankie Y. Bailey
Author of the Lizzie Stuart mystery series
http://www.frankieybailey.com/