Heroine is defined as a woman admired or idolized for her courage, outstanding achievement, or noble qualities. In a more literary context, the definition is trimmed down somewhat to the chief female character in a book, a play, a movie who is typically identified with good qualities and with whom the reader is expected to sympathize.
Image via Wikipedia
Although there have been many examples of literary heroines throughout history, being Greek, I am more familiar with the amazing work of Sophocles, Antigone. Antigone is a daughter of the accidentally incestuous marriage between King Oedipus of Thebes and his mother Jocasta. She is the subject of a popular story in which she attempts to secure a respectable burial for her brother Polynices, even though he was a traitor to Thebes and the law forbids even mourning for him, on pain of death. Sophocles’ Antigone ends in disaster, with Antigone hanging herself after being walled up, and Creon’s son Haemon (or Haimon), who loved Antigone, killing himself after finding her body. Queen Eurydice, wife of King Creon, also kills herself at the end of the story due to seeing such actions allowed by her husband.
Even though many years have passed since then, I still remember being taught this play in high school. I vividly recall me questioning Sophocle’s choice of tormenting Antigone for wanting to the do the ‘right thing’. This is the beauty of literature, the ability to generate either internal or external discussions and debates over basic human experiences and emotions. Sophocles is a master and Antigone became my definition of a true heroine, the benchmark for all future references to this specific noun.
Sophocles is long gone (what a shame) but thankfully many more authors have created amazing characters for us to enjoy and admire. Just to name a few: Edna Pontellier, Madame Bovary, Moll Flanders, Anna Karenina, Lily Bart, Jane Eyre, Hester Prynne, Elizabeth Bennet, Daisy Miller, and Murasaki Shikibu.
And maybe a few more: Lucy Honeychurch, Antonia Shimerdas, Ellen Olenska, Josephine (Jo) March, Isabel Archer, Scarlett O’Hara, Cathy Earnshaw, Daisy Miller, Lizzie Bennet, Lily Bart, Eliza Doolittle, Juliet, Lady Macbeth, Gertrude, Beatrice, Maid Marian
Read more about famous fictional heroines. These novels feature just a few of the many…
Imagined in the late fourteenth-century, the Wife of Bath is one of literature’s earliest promiscuous ladies. Jovial and clever, she regales a band of traveling religious pilgrims with tales of former husbands. (She’s got five, the first one wed at the age of twelve.) Hence the name: she’s been a wife over and over and over again. Some women are white bread, she says, but freely admits that she’s a coarser loaf of barley—and this is exactly why I’m drawn to her. She’s not ashamed of her sexuality, or how it serves her desire for power.
Rosa Dartle, from Charles Dickens’ David Copperfield
Rosa Dartle has had a scar across her face since she was young—the cruel gift of a narcissistic step-brother—and it’s turned her undesirable and bitter. The scar almost becomes a character in its own right; it nearly glows whenever she gets upset. Rosa’s mean to almost everyone. But I like her anyway, maybe because no one else does. She’s not appealing to men, she’s pissed about it, and she’s willing to say so. She’s the essential wounded lady. I respect her anger, and the fierce intelligence beneath it.
Anna Karenina, from Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina
She’s a married woman who abandons her husband and son to run away with the charming playboy she’s fallen in love with. But despite all this—because of it, actually—she’s become one of fiction’s most enduring tragic heroines. Why do we care about her? She wants something more than stability from a man. She wants passion. But it’s not just that she believes in love, it’s that she suffers for this belief. She doubts herself. She’s needy. She ends up vulnerable and pathetic, betrayed by her own love as much as the society that disproves of it. She isn’t afforded any glory as compensation for her aspirations. She has to pay for them. I never know what to make of Anna. I get angry with her, and love her, and root for her, and root against her, and feel deeply sad for her, and what good is a heroine, in the end, if she doesn’t make us feel all these things?
Lena Grove, from William Faulkner’s Light in August
Lena Grove is young and poor and pregnant in the middle of the Deep South. The father of her child has abandoned her, but she’s determined not to let him get away with it. She sets out on foot to track him down. Destiny deals her the victim’s portion but she refuses to accept it. Without money or companions or even a horse, she fights back. She’s not particularly clever or subtle, but I don’t miss these things in her; she’s determined to be a mother, and this means finding her baby a father. She’s on a primal quest. She turns resourcefulness into an art.
Maria Wyeth, from Joan Didion’s Play It As It Lays
Maria Wyeth is a washed-up film star with a troubled marriage and a disabled young daughter. Didion’s minimal, knife-like prose brings her hardened psyche into pristine focus—besides her daughter, Maria isn’t sure what to care about, and her reckless self-destruction and affairs are the only way she knows to articulate this hopelessness. I didn’t like Maria, but I found something deeply moving in her plight—the way she’d given up, but kept on going, the fact that she kept caring about her daughter long after she’d stopped caring about herself.
Patsy McLemoore, from Michelle Huneven’s Blame
When we first meet her, it seems like Patsy might be a tough character to root for. She’s an alcoholic history professor—smart and beautiful, sure, but also deeply thoughtless and self-absorbed—who accidentally runs over two Jehovah’s Witnesses in a drunken blackout and kills them. The novel follows her through years of prison, recovery, and atonement. Along the way, we see her struggle through a kind of guilt nearly impossible to comprehend. She doesn’t live a martyr’s life, but she tries her best to live a good one. I found, in the end, that she’d dug herself out of the hole of her own character—had, somewhere along the line, captured my sympathy and my respect.
Maria Christina, from Richard Romanus’ Chrysalis
View on Amazon
‘Chrsyalis‘ tells the story of 17 year old Maria Christina, who lives in Metsovo, a small mountain village in Greece, where women are judged according to their physical strength. World War II, the Greek Civil war and other calamities transform this young woman into a heroine. The crisis affects the fate of three generations, all of whom experience the peril of those years in different ways, changing not only the community and Maria Christina’s destiny, but also redefining the role of women in society.
I am absolutely certain that you’ll love these books, not only because they are very well written but because they are full of love, honesty and sincerity.
Partially based on a list complied by Esther Lombardi, (About.com Guide)