My older brother, who is an accomplished historian and writer, has decided to write a memoir in his retirement. Jokingly, or not so jokingly, I asked him to leave me out of it. I realize that would be difficult for him to do since we grew up together and lived off and on in the same house until I was in my late twenties. I’ll probably make some kind of appearance in his memoir. I can only hope that it doesn’t get too personal. I’m a private person and don’t like to open up to the outside world. Except, I did.

Many first novels are autobiographical, and My Doormat Days, my first, is no different. The main character, Alba, is a version of myself with enough differences so that she is her unique self. Also, many of the characters are based on real-life family members, friends, and people who have crossed my path and left an impression, whether good or bad. I found it funny when a good friend, who has known me since my college days, made an effort to guess the real-life identities of the main characters. She got all but one right!

I have written four novels since my first, and in most of them there is one character who is based on a real-life person. I guess I just can’t help it. But no reader, however well they might know me, can guess what is real about a character and what is fiction. I might have a real person in mind as I start writing the character, but then the pen takes over and inevitably the person on the page is uniquely their own self. Life is full of interesting people, and they will always fascinate me. Eventually, one or two will inspire my writing,

Every year, I reflect on the characters I’ve met through fiction. I do this because character-driven fiction is my favorite. While plot is important, too, I’m more likely to recall a fascinating character over any plot. I connect with characters. Following are my favorites from my 2020 reads:

Manny Rivera in February Files, Trail of Deception, and Moon Shadow Murder. Though I first met Manny last year in Artifacts of Death, the first in this murder mystery series, I came to know him even better in these three volumes this year. Manny, a law enforcement officer, investigates murders in the beautiful Moab, Utah area. He is patient, self-reflective, kind, and loves his family. He is a good man who above all seeks justice.

Jordi Perez in The Summer of Jordi Perez by Amy Spaulding. Jordi is a talented teenage photographer. She is also a lesbian, comfortable in her own skin. Her parents are supportive of Jordi’s sexuality and artistic goals. Jodi is free-spirited, passionate, and quite mature for her age. The other major characters in this YA novel, Abby, Jordi’s love, and Jax, Abby’s friend, are fully developed and interesting people.

Isaiah Quintabe in IQ by Joe Ide. This is the first in a detective series. Quintabe is a private detective. He lives alone in Long Beach, California. He’s a loner and a very intelligent man, despite being a high school dropout. He will take a case that challenges his skills, even if the client can’t afford to pay in cash. He is loyal and determined.

Tangy Mae Quinn in The Darkest Child by Delores Phillips. Tangy is incredible. Only thirteen years old, she endures and survives parental abuse and sexual abuse. Throughout, she maintains her strength of character.

Every year I like to list the interesting characters that I have met through my readings in fiction. I’m a little surprised, after reviewing my list of readings of this year, that not too many characters stand out in my memory. These made the short list:

Xiomara Batista in The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo. Xiomara is memorable because she is a deep-thinking teen who is up against a lot, especially a strict mother who doesn’t get her. Yet, Xiomara triumphs.

Eleanor Oliphant in Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman. She is not a totally believable character but Eleanor is a thoroughly unique one. She struggles, with the help of a wonderful support team, with mental issues.

Queenie in Queenie by Candice Carty-Williams. Queenie is a damaged, self-destructive, young woman who makes things worse for herself by engaging in abusive relationships. Though I found her behavior and actions frustrating, I couldn’t help rooting for her to stand up for herself.

Arthur Less in Less by Andrew Sean Greer. This guy has everything–good looks, a successful writing career, good connections–but is depressed because he is turning 50 and isn’t in a satisfying relationship. I didn’t find Arthur Less likable nor did I care much about his personal problems. He’s too shallow and self-involved. But, he’s witty and self-deprecating… he’s memorable.

I’ve met many interesting characters in the novels I’ve read this year:

ANGELA in The Wife by Alafair Burke. She is memorable because she is not what she seems. Truly an example of the unreliable narrator.

ANNA in The Woman in the Window by A.J. Finn. So neurotic, but…wait…what else is going on with this character? This is a richly developed portrait of a damaged individual.

DANA in Kindred by Octavia Butler. She is a fiercely determined woman who seeks to right what is wrong but against tremendous odds.

ROY in An American Marriage by Tayari Jones. He is an African American male who is unjustly accused and incarcerated. He is a survivor.

TOMAS in The Hummingbird’s Daughter by Luis Alberto Urrea. He is a philandering husband and a hedonist, but one who loves his daughter and risks his life to protect her.

MARGOT in The Education of Margot Sanchez by Lilliam Rivera. Obstinate, reckless, and immature, Margot, a teen, learns the hard way that the choices we make can set us off on the wrong course.

LAURA in Love Field by Virginia Alanis. She is impressive, because unlike Margot, she tries to make the right choices, but when she doesn’t, she recognizes her mistake and alters her course. She is wise beyond her seventeen years.

These are the characters that have stood out the most in the novels I’ve read so far this year. I look forward to meeting more before the year is over.

Author Nevada Barr’s Anna Pigeon is one of my favorite fictional characters; but after reading Boar Island, her latest, I’ve come to realize that perhaps Anna is fading into the background in these books. Maybe Barr has explored the character as much as she could, and now a happy Anna is simply not the compelling heroine she once was. Anna has resolved her issues with alcohol and overcome the severe depression she suffered after her young husband’s death. A happy character doesn’t necessarily make such an interesting read.

I love character-driven fiction. I recently got to thinking about fictional characters I’ve met this year that made stories so much better because of their individual quirkiness, temperament, or sense of pathos. Following is a list of such characters, in no particular order.

Lauren Oya Olamina (Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler): A young woman who through her strength of character leads a group of survivors in dystopian California to seek a better life.

Mike and Frankie Flannery (Echo by Pam Munoz Ryan): Two orphans who suffer such hardships that Mike can no longer bring himself to hope. Yet Frankie’s sweetness and optimism remain intact.

Juniper Song (the star of Steph Cha’s mysteries): A young private eye who is older than her years. Similar to early Anna Pigeon, she struggles with loss and alcohol.

Ana FaNelli (Luckiest Girl Alive by Jessica Knoll): Ani’s air of sophisticated snobbishness masks a painful past.

Frey and McGray (private detectives in Oscar Muriel’s mystery series): These guys make a funny, entertaining pair, a bromance. Frey comes off as too prissy for the kind of work he does, but paired with the wild and crazy Scot, McGray, the team works.

Shirley (Shirley by Susan Scarf Merrell) Though she’s in a novel, Shirley is not fictional. The character is the fascinating real-life writer, Shirley Jackson. Merrell brings her back to life with stark realism.

Antonia (My Antonia by Willa Cather): A woman who epitomizes the immigrant experience, yet she is no stereotype.

I am an armchair protagonist. I watch a lot of movies, TV shows, and read a lot of fiction. I’m usually able to put myself in the characters’ minds, empathize with their feelings. But sometimes I can’t. Recently my husband, John, and I watched a detective story. The hero was trying to track down a serial killer who was hiding out in victims’ homes before pouncing on them unexpectedly and committing murder. A couple was in bed, turning out the lights, when they heard a noise upstairs. The husband got out of bed, went upstairs, met the killer who proceeded to kill the guy and push his head through the floor. The victim’s wife, still in bed, listened to the rumbling sounds upstairs, and screamed when her husband’s head came crashing through the ceiling. This whole time I was thinking, Why doesn’t she run out of the house and/or call the police? Instead the woman was frozen in fear.

Time and again, especially with horror movies, I watch characters fail to take appropriate, practical steps to save their lives. They’ll run the wrong direction or freeze and wait as the killer (or sometimes a ghost) approaches and ultimately takes them out. In the meantime, I’m saying, Do something!! The truth is, I don’t know what I would do if pursued by a ghost or a killer. I like to think I would be brave and act quickly, but how can I be sure of that? We all react differently to stress. I think it’s up to the writer to put the reader in the character’s head, to understand her reactions and motivations, so we’re not surprised with the actions she ultimately takes.

I just read my first JoJo Moyes novel, The Last Letter for Your Lover. It’s a very entertaining story of star-crossed lovers who somehow keep narrowly missing their connection and can never seem to be in the right place at the right time.. There is another character who appears in the second half of the book who is romantically involved with a married man. At first I had difficulty understanding why she would waste her time with a guy I considered a complete jerk, but eventually I came to understand her motivations. The author did a good job of helping me “get” the character and why she was letting herself be used by the jerk. That’s how a reader ultimately comes to care for the protagonist. You can’t really empathize with a character if you don’t understand what motivates her.

Scarlett O’Hara, Harry Potter, Philip Marlowe, Jane Eyre, Mr. Darcy . . . All are memorable fictional characters, so familiar to us that one might know who they are without even having read the books that made them famous. I have a preference for character-driven novels and have met many intriguing personalities through my readings.

I think if I were to be the heroine in a novel, it would probably put the reader to sleep. I’ve led a much too normal life; I’ve never married a guy who was already married to a lunatic he kept hidden in the attic, made a dress out of drapes because I was too poor to buy one, or struggled with my identity as a wizard. But even more than the hurdles that fictional folks have to surmount, they need personal attributes that make them intriguing, and they certainly don’t have to be likable. When I read Somerset Maugham’s Of Human Bondage, I was so angry at the weak-willed hero, Philip Carey, that I wanted to reach into the pages and bitch slap some sense into him. But that’s what well-written characters can do–elicit a strong emotional reaction from the reader.

Here are some of my favorite fictional characters: mystery writer Nevada Barr’s Anna Pigeon (a-troubled-recovering-alcoholic-park-ranger-murder-solver), Michael Connelly’s Harry Bosch (a-troubled-Vietnam-vet-turned-cop-semi-alcoholic-insomniac), Diana Gabaldon’s Claire Fraser (stubborn-time-traveling-sometime-bigamist-war-nurse-healer), and Adriana Trigiani’s Ave Maria Mulligan Machesney (a-one-time-longtime-single-insecure-wise-cracking-small-town-Italian-American-Southerner). Though I wouldn’t necessarily want to hang with these people in real life, they make for some fascinating reading.