Why We Love to Hate Unlikeable Characters in Fiction
Whenever I’m deciding what to write about next, I tend to think back to the posts I’ve written recently or the stories I’ve been reading. My last post was about Carrie Soto, who’s a fairly unlikeable character. I’ve always believed that I can enjoy a story even if I don’t particularly like its main character, but I know many readers struggle with that.
In Carrie Soto’s case, her moments of unlikability actually serve the story; you might not like her, but you do respect her. That got me wondering — does a character have to be likeable for a story to be good, and for them to be considered a strong protagonist? My instinctive answer is “no,” but let’s lay out both sides of the argument.
What Makes a Character Unlikeable?
First, let’s define what we actually mean by an unlikeable character. It’s important to distinguish between a badly written character and one who’s intentionally flawed. There are plenty of stories featuring unlikeable main characters, but one that always comes to mind for me is Violet Sorrengail. My issue with Violet isn’t that she’s unlikeable — it’s that she’s inconsistently written. Rebecca Yarros, in my view, struggles to maintain Violet’s defining traits, and she ends up feeling more like an irritating, love-sick teenager than a fully realised protagonist.
None of her personality shifts seems to serve the story or the plot. She is extremely unlikable, and the kind that ruins the story is her consistency; she pulls me out of the narrative because I’m sick and tired of her shit. In this post, however, I’m not talking about characters like Violet.
Now that we’ve clarified that, what makes an authentically unlikeable character? It’s worth recognising the two main types. On one side, you have characters who are unlikeable because of their personality — arrogant, selfish, self-obsessed, cynical, generally unpleasant to be around. On the other side, some are morally ambiguous: the anti-heroes and morally grey protagonists who aren’t afraid to make questionable choices or act out of pure self-interest.
I tend to prefer the latter over the former, as morally ambiguous anti-hero types usually serve the story better. It is understandable why they are the way they are, and they are not just rude and unlikable for the sake of it.
The Case For Unlikeable Characters
Let’s be honest — most people aren’t entirely likeable. Everyone makes questionable choices from time to time; we’re all human, and occasionally a bit strange. That’s precisely why unlikeable characters can feel so realistic — they’re often a more accurate reflection of real life than the flawless heroes we’re used to seeing.
Secondly, morally ambiguous protagonists challenge a reader’s sense of ethics and what we’re willing to tolerate in a story. Sometimes a character can be charming, witty, and endlessly entertaining, yet deeply dubious beneath the surface. I always think of Klaus from The Vampire Diaries — the perfect example of someone we love to hate. He’s a terrible brother and a literal supervillain, yet undeniably captivating. In cases like this, it’s difficult to label a character as “likeable” or “unlikeable” if we’re judging purely by their actions. Once you combine their behaviour with their personality, the concept of likeability becomes far more complicated — and far more interesting.
The Case Against Them
More often than not, the main protagonist is the character most likely to survive — and the one we’re instinctively meant to root for. There’s always a risk, though, of alienating readers when the central character is unlikeable. If readers can’t connect with them, they may spend most of the story feeling frustrated or irritated by their behaviour, which can overshadow the author’s intended message. Even if the book has something profound to say, that impact can be lost when the reader doesn’t care about — or even actively dislikes — the person at its heart.
Writers can also sometimes go too far in making their characters complex and layered, pushing them into territory that feels exaggerated or unrelatable. There’s a delicate balance between depth and authenticity. While real people can be selfish, manipulative, or even cruel, when a character leans too heavily into those traits, they can stop feeling human altogether. It can start to seem as though they’ve been written as “evil” or “troubled” purely for shock value, rather than genuine narrative purpose — and that can make it difficult for readers to stay emotionally invested.
That said, I don’t entirely mind when a story is told from the villain’s perspective. In fact, when it’s done well, it can be a refreshing and thought-provoking alternative.
When Unlikeable Characters Work Best
Dubious characters often make for stronger and far more memorable stories. We revel in their moral dilemmas — the push and pull between liking and disliking a “difficult” character adds real depth to the reading experience. As I mentioned earlier, these traits usually serve the narrative. We need complicated characters to make complex decisions. Their flaws and contradictions often reflect the story’s wider themes or even provide subtle social commentary. When written well, they’re layered, multifaceted, and capable of portraying the full spectrum of the human experience. Or in some cases, they can provide a satirical commentary of the world, like in Yellowface.
An unlikeable character usually (but not in all cases) opens the door to character development like no other. Their flaws give them room to grow, often leading to moments of genuine self-awareness that make them feel strikingly real. The best ones, though, never completely lose their defining traits; they simply evolve. They gain empathy, depth, and a bit more heart, yet still retain that sharp wit or deliciously sarcastic edge that made them so compelling in the first place.
The Reader’s Perspective
It wouldn’t be me if I didn’t dig a little deeper and consider the reader’s own biases when it comes to unlikeable characters.
Is that female protagonist genuinely unlikeable, or are we simply judging women more harshly than men? I often notice that female protagonists, particularly younger ones, aren’t afforded the same grace to be immature or make mistakes as their male counterparts. What’s frequently labelled as “annoying” behaviour is, in many cases, just a woman existing authentically within a patriarchal framework. The same applies to characters of colour, who are often scrutinised under a harsher lens or denied the complexity white characters are freely granted.
It’s important, then, that we examine our own biases as readers. We need to be aware of how these biases shape our perceptions so that we judge characters fairly and in context. Our reactions should come from an honest reading of the text, not from ingrained assumptions. This actually leads neatly into another fascinating discussion, author intent versus reader interpretation, but that’s definitely a post for another day.
Of course, this isn’t to say that some characters don’t deserve criticism (looking at you, Violet Sorrengail — hehe). There’s also a lot more to explore about how the type of book we’re reading influences the way we judge characters. For instance, in literary fiction versus genre fiction, but again, that’s a topic I’ll save for another time.
Final Thoughts
I think the consensus for me on this one is that yes, an unlikeable protagonist can absolutely be great, as long as they’re compelling, complex, and serve the story. There’s so much you can do with characters like that, from exploring deep social commentary to offering an honest, human portrayal of imperfection.
One of these days, I think I’ll do a post on my favourite books featuring unlikeable characters, I’ll put a pin in that before I forget, haha.
Thanks for reading, and see you soon!
Signed,
