Villains. Just when I think I've gotten up a heathy dislike for them, something comes up, ruins everything, and I like the villain more than ever. I tell myself I shouldn't like them, "Look what they did to the hero!" et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, but while I might abhor them in theory, I like them a little too much in practice.
You know that everyone says you should look for the good in people? That is one of the few virtues I seem to have cultivated to an amazing extent. :P Villains seem to have some bits of good in them to make them believable, but for me it makes them..... loveable.
[A little disclaimer: (especially for those of my friends who watched The Phantom of the Opera with me) this does NOT apply to The Phantom. He is not a villain or a hero. He acts like a two year old with a temper tantrum. I have no great liking for two year olds with temper tantrums. Besides, I am and always have been on Team Raoul. Hurray for Raoul!!! (It's a pity some of my friends don't read this blog. I can only imagine what their indignant comments would be like. *evil chuckle*)]
Oh, villains. The really loveable (or hate-able, have it the way you like) bad guys are the ones who are their own worst enemies.
Did I just say their own worst enemies? Now I'm slamming my head against the computer desk and screaming "Willoughby! Willoughby and Steerforth!" at the top of my lungs. Not out loud, I hope you understand, because that would make my family think I have gone crazy. (And they'd be right. But shhhhh, it's supposed to be a secret. ;-D)
Steerforth really should have been the hero of David Copperfield. There was really no one but himself in the way. For pity's sake get a head, Steerforth. Get a heart. Do you really realized what you're doing? And really, why did you have to go and die?
Which brings me to another random and ridiculous opinion. I like the villains, and I like the heroes, but I don't like unrequited lovers. That is, not unless the unrequited lover is the hero. (Do you think I hastily stuck in that last sentence so that Sydney Carton would fit with the characters I like? You should not suspect me of such a ridiculous idea.) Which makes it naturally follow that, in the drowning scene, I groan "Steerforth, Steerforth," over and over and completely ignore poor Ham. And really, if you are named Ham I might respect you, I might admire your character, but I feel that I could never give you my undivided attention.
Since I sort of need to go to bed I'll stop this random post. It probably doesn't make much sense, but then again, it probably was written when I wasn't entirely sane and certainly when I had just finished Sir Percy Hits Back (review on The Day Dream coming soon.) I purposely didn't mention Chauvelin in this post, but if I started, I would give indefinate amounts of spoilers and never stop. Just remember, tigers do have hearts.
And I do apologise for the lack of sense in this post. I will post something sensible soon. I promise. :)