For Western literature, the concept of individuality is a remarkably recent innovation. It goes without saying that the classics feature many remarkable individual characters, but they are only remarkable in their ability to meet and exceed the highest expectations of their roles in society. (Just think of Beowulf playing the ultimate male role as warrior, provider, and peacemaker.) That’s why so many ancient stories end in weddings, which are basically a rite of passage for turning individuals into a group unit.
To illustrate a point, let’s look at the protagonists of Village and Kill a Mockingbird. In the first, Prince Hamlet’s nonconformity turns the play into a tragedy, while in the second, Scout’s development into an independent thinker turns the novel into a bildungsroman.
Hamlet is brooding, passive aggressive, deceitful, and utterly uncompromising. Even if you love him for it, these aren’t exactly princely qualities. At a time when he (and the rest of the kingdom) is expected to surpass the previous king and befriend the new one, all Hamlet can do is cry. He is even visually distinguished from his peers by wearing dark mourning clothes.
When Hamlet Sr.’s ghost informs Hamlet Jr. that his death was murder, and fratricidal, Hamlet proceeds to… do nothing about it. For four acts. If this seems unthinkably passive to you, imagine how unacceptable it would have been in the days when sword fighting was the way to settle scores. To make matters worse, Hamlet is painfully aware of his inaction; for example, when he realizes that a soldier is marching to fight for something that doesn’t even concern him, Hamlet despairs at his failure not only as a man, but also as a prince and son.
As if it wasn’t isolated enough to begin with, Hamlet further sets himself apart from the royal court by pretending to be insane. He takes on the role of the lunatic outcast with such dedication that even after accidentally killing the father of his girlfriend, knowing full well what IT will do for his relationship, he pretends he doesn’t give a damn.
Of course, Hamlet finally fulfills his obligation as a son by murdering his uncle, but only after he has already been fatally poisoned by the sword of Laertes. Hamlet’s change in inertia is also the moment of his destruction, symbolically representing the sacrifice of individuality on the altar of the whole. (In case Shakespeare didn’t get that, he also has Ofelia kill herself after losing her mind.)
If this isn’t your idea of a tonic, you’ll be happy to turn your attention to the 20th century thought of To Kill a Mockingbird. According to Harper Lee’s characterization of Scout Finch, becoming an individual is the truer way to become a functional member of adult society.
While Scout has a very strong personality (not to mention the notable advantage of being the daughter of Atticus Finch), she doesn’t start off as an especially strong character. Much of her toughness about dusting her knuckles is simply behavior learned from spending too much time with an older brother. Also, despite being (relatively) culturally enlightened, Scout drops the n-bomb as easily as the next bigot and she expresses her utter amazement at the realization that her black caretaker has a life, a family, and a life. community of hers.
Of course, without her eventual foray into the world of nonconforming thoughts and feelings, Scout wouldn’t make much of a leading lady. As she matures, she learns to be more “girly,” not because her aunt thinks she is socially appropriate, but because she no longer feels the need to react against a female stereotype by modeling herself after the older brother. her. (After all, whether she’s working against or adhering to it, letting popular opinion dictate her behavior shows a lack of independent thought.)
When Atticus agrees to defend Tom Robinson in court, Scout witnesses firsthand the insanity of the mob mentality, as faceless and nameless men try to ambush her father in the night. On an even larger scale, witnessing the gross injustice of Tom Robinson’s conviction (and subsequent murder) opens Scout’s eyes to the blinding power of groupthink.
Scout’s development as an independent thinker is reflected in the Boo Radley subplot, in which she learns to substitute her own unique experience for local legend. For Scout, and for us, the lucky people of the 21st century, coming of age means becoming one.