Unlikeable characters and insensitive language

I recently got taught a lesson from my new (wonderful) editor on modern language usage and sensitivity. English evolves and changes. I’d been throwing around a lot of really insensitive language in my books—and I had no idea the words were insensitive. I’m not talking about racist or sexist talk. Hopefully I know not to do that, although if I’ve made mistakes in the past, I apologize. Please let me know so I can fix it. I’m also not talking about words that are perhaps acceptable in American English but not in British English. Example: I’d long ago stopped using “spaz” because while I associate it with 1980s innocent Valley Girl (“like, don’t be a spaz dude”), in the UK it’s considered extremely offensive (relating to physical handicaps, and completely derogatory). Yeah, no. I don’t mean that at all. Not using it.

But there are so many words that I had no idea were offensive. Ones I used regularly in my writing: blind, dumb, idiot, crazy, freaking, tribe, long time no see, and so on.

While I’ll admit when she confronted me with it, I felt some internal pushback (I tend to think of words like colors for an artist, and I don’t want to censor myself from any of them), I also see her point about language evolving and how something that might have been acceptable before isn’t now. I didn’t want any unintended consequences, so while there are some slurs and harsh language in my book, it’s intentional and plot-related, not just thrown in there without thought. I guess I don’t want my books to have language in there that has a connotation I don’t mean—to the extent I can control that, which might be impossible but I can do my best.

Then the past few days I’ve been reading a book that violated all of those sensitivity guidelines. Just blew right past them. It did all of the stuff as a writer I trained myself not to do or was told I’m not supposed to do. It had slurs galore—homophobic, misogynistic, racist. Awful. The characters were too young and acted it. All the women were portrayed as dumb. The guys were violent. They got into fistfights and did completely stupid things. There was cheating (sort of) and all kinds of other triggers. The parents were airheads. I could pick it apart on so many levels.

And I kind of adored the book. Now, don’t get me wrong. All of the above things rubbed me the wrong way. I was uncomfortable with the characters basically committing domestic violence and hurling insults at each other nonstop. (Well, that’s how they started the book.)

But it’s not how they finished. They grew so, so much by the end, stopping all of the bad behavior. And that was why I liked it. Because there was real, honest character growth that ended in love.

As I think about it, too, the portrayal of bad behavior was pretty realistic. Teenagers aren’t perfect, and they pick up all kinds of habits and ideas along the way—plus they need to push and prod and see where the boundaries are.

And the character arc by which they changed was so believable and so thorough, I cheered.

So, my question: is it worth it to portray something so insensitive and antisocial? Or does that perpetuate things we don’t want? There were plenty of reviews that stopped reading because of the points above, the main critique being the book’s language really did not have to be as blatant and repeated as it was to get the point across. It was just too much for some readers.

But part of me loved that it did it for the simple reason that the characters needed time to grow up, accept themselves, and fall in love … and grow up, accept themselves, and fall in love, they did. Something about the way they went full circle just did it for me. And it might be up there as a favorite book that sticks out, despite the language and portrayals I’d be afraid to use in my own book. It just felt free, and it also felt like it had a point since the characters moved beyond it. In that way, it wasn’t gratuitous—at least it didn’t feel that way to me.

I’m writing this post because besides evolving to not use insensitive language without purpose, I often shy away from writing unlikeable characters. I’m not a fan of movies that don’t have anyone I want to root for or hang out with—even if I can see the art or the point of it. I just want to fall in love with someone.

And yet. And yet.

Sometimes those broken, “bad” characters end up being the ones you root for the most. Even if it’s painful to watch their journey and even if how they act is offensive.

I think there’s art in there somewhere.