The Everyman

To build a strong bridge you must have strong tools. To create and to appreciate beautiful fantasy, we must take note of the tools that build these fairy bridges. In our next few posts we will explore some of these elements, namely, three of the most instrumental character tropes: the Everyman, the Mentor, and the King.

A trope is a symbol or theme that occurs over and over again in literature. As we familiarize ourselves with specific genres, fantasy in particular, these common tropes become increasingly apparent. This is because, of course, all fantasy is telling the same story — the story of the Knight defeating the dragon and saving the Princess, the story of Jesus Christ defeating Satan and saving us. To portray this, writers use the same symbols, often unconsciously. Perhaps the most common character symbol, or trope, or archetype in fantasy is the Everyman. The Red Crosse Knight. Janner Wingfeather. Frodo Baggins. Beowulf. Harry Potter.

You might notice something about all these examples I mentioned. They’re all the main characters; they’re all rather likable, occasionally annoying, very brave people who make mistakes but whom we all relate to and wish to emulate.

This is because the Everyman is us: Just a normal person with flaws and virtues and a longing to be good, who is required to do things he is perhaps not equipped to do at first and yet accomplishes it in the end.

Like us, the Everyman always goes on a quest. If you look at it, you’ll see that all these quests are thinly veiled and terribly beautiful portrayals of the Quest of Life. Frodo Baggins making his weary way through fire and destruction to throw the Ring into Mt Doom hits home when we think of our own journey through this “vale of tears” toward sanctification and the casting off of sin. When we remember that we are Everyman, and that Everyman is us, it is easier to see all of life as it truly is: a quest to destroy darkness and embrace light. Household chores, attempts to defuse arguments, persevering on hard days, these are not simply mundane tasks. They are the steps and trials along a great quest. Every grace we are given is a sword, every fault we conquer is a dragon killed. Every step we take toward virtue is a step toward Mt Doom, toward the “Joy beyond the walls of this world,” to quote Tolkien.

For are we not also expected to slay, with the help of the Knight, our own personal dragons? This is why the Everyman always slays his dragon — but with divine help. Harry Potter slays the Basilisk with the help of a magical sword. Beowulf, in a bleaker take, can only defeat the dragons temporarily because he is still waiting for the Knight to come. Peter fights the White Witch with the assistance of Aslan. Urchin saves Mistmantle, aided by King Crispin. Janner Wingfeather achieves his quest through the guidance and example of Artham and Podo.

The Everyman — this symbol of us, of mankind — cannot defeat the dragon on his own. Like us, he needs the Knight to help him. But always, in the end, he overcomes his temptations and gives his all to overcome the darkness. The Everyman never has a tragic end, for the Everyman always, after much hardship and perservering, decides to follow the King. So, while the Everyman shows us our own humanity in all our faults, he also shows us the good that we are called to do and be in the name of the King.

The Everyman of literature is friendly and inspiring because he is us and at the same time better than us. We relate with Janner Wingfeather’s annoyance at his brother, and yet weep in awe of his sacrifice. We are humbled when the Red Crosse Knight falls, because we know we would have fallen too, and yet we are encouraged when he overcomes his trials and rides at last to victory. He has fallen just as we have, and yet he rises and slays his dragon just as we can also with the help of our King.