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From heroes to villains: The dark side of the Bildungsroman

The bildungsroman is traditionally defined as a novel that portrays the formative years of its protagonist, focusing on their psychological development and moral education.

By Prakhar Shukla

“You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” This iconic line, delivered by Harvey Dent in Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight, aptly encapsulates the journeys of many villains in literature. Characters who begin their stories full of innocence and ambition often find themselves undone by their own flaws, swallowed by the darker forces of the world around them. From Dorian Gray in Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray and Michael Corleone in Mario Puzo’s The Godfather to Paul Atreides in Frank Herbert’s Dune, their transformations mirror the structure of a bildungsroman—a narrative typically associated with positive growth.

The bildungsroman is traditionally defined as a novel that portrays the formative years of its protagonist, focusing on their psychological development and moral education. According to Merriam-Webster, it is a narrative that typically concludes on a positive note, with the protagonist’s early mistakes resolved and their future promising a life of purpose and fulfilment. However, this definition raises a compelling question: can narratives of moral descent also fall within the scope of the bildungsroman?

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Dorian Gray begins as a young, naive man, embodying innocence and untainted beauty, but his encounter with Lord Henry Wotton alters his course. Seduced by Lord Henry’s hedonistic philosophy, Dorian makes a Faustian bargain, transferring the burden of his sins and ageing to his portrait to preserve his eternal youth. While Dorian retains his external beauty, his soul decays. Over time, the portrait reflects the monstrous consequences of his indulgences and lack of accountability. Dorian’s life becomes a study in arrested moral development, where his pursuit of eternal youth and pleasure eclipses any hope for personal growth. His ultimate downfall—brought about by his attempt to destroy the portrait—is not just a physical death but the collapse of his carefully constructed façade of innocence.

Dorian’s story resonates with the Nietzschean concept of the Apollonian and Dionysian duality. His external beauty and orderly façade represent the Apollonian ideal, while his indulgence in hedonism and moral decay reflect the Dionysian chaos. His failure to reconcile these forces leads to his tragic demise.

Michael Corleone’s journey in The Godfather is a quintessential story of transformation. At the start, Michael is the golden boy of the Corleone family—a war hero and an outsider to his family’s criminal enterprises. He represents hope, someone who could escape the shadow of the mafia. Michael’s descent begins as a choice born out of necessity but evolves into a deliberate embrace of power and control. Each decision he makes pulls him further away from the idealistic young man he once was. His progression is marked by betrayal, calculated violence, and the alienation of everyone he loves, including his wife, Kay. By the end of the trilogy, Michael is a tragic figure—isolated and haunted by the ghosts of his choices.

Michael’s arc can be examined through the lens of Machiavellian philosophy. His actions embody the principle that the ends justify the means. Yet his story also serves as a critique of this philosophy, illustrating how power and pragmatism devoid of ethical grounding lead to emptiness and ruin. The moral compromises Michael makes transform him into a ruler devoid of joy or purpose, highlighting the cost of unchecked ambition.

Paul Atreides, the protagonist of Frank Herbert’s Dune, embarks on a journey that transforms his immense potential into a cautionary tale of power and prophecy. Groomed as a nobleman, Paul’s destiny is irrevocably altered when he assumes the role of the Kwisatz Haderach, a messianic figure burdened with immense power. His foresight offers glimpses of possible futures, but this advantage blinds him to the broader implications of his actions. Paul’s desire for revenge against the Harkonnens, coupled with his refusal to surrender agency, makes the galaxy-spanning jihad he foresees inevitable. The jihad, fuelled by Fremen fanaticism, emerges as the tragic price of Paul’s rise to power. The desert power he wields becomes a tool of widespread destruction, a consequence he neither fully intends nor comprehends until it is too late. Under immense pressure, his awakening to prophetic abilities denies him the freedom to escape his foretold fate, leaving him trapped in decisions that perpetuate chaos.

Paul’s narrative reflects existentialist struggles, particularly Sartre’s concept of “bad faith,” where the denial of authentic freedom leads to self-destruction. It also mirrors classical tragedies, where hubris invites ruin. His tale serves as a meditation on the perils of incomplete foresight and the devastating costs of wielding absolute power, ultimately showcasing how the quest for control can spiral into uncontrollable chaos.

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The stories of Dorian Gray, Michael Corleone, and Paul Atreides, alongside characters like Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars), Heathcliff (Wuthering Heights), Walter White (Breaking Bad), and Macbeth (Macbeth), share structural similarities with the traditional bildungsroman. Each begins with a formative period of innocence or idealism, followed by pivotal choices and external pressures that shape their moral and psychological trajectories. Yet, unlike conventional protagonists, their arcs culminate not in triumph but in tragedy, where the growth they experience is subverted into corruption, alienation, or tyranny.

What these narratives illuminate is the dual nature of human development. If the bildungsroman is, at its core, about the process of coming-of-age, then these darker tales remind us that maturity does not guarantee virtue. The concept of growth—so often idealised in literature—can lead equally to destructive outcomes, depending on the circumstances, motivations, and philosophies that underpin the journey. The Nietzschean tension between the Apollonian and Dionysian forces, the existentialist burden of authenticity and choice, and the Machiavellian pragmatism of power all intersect in these narratives to reveal the fragility of the moral compass.

The stories discussed further challenge the optimistic determinism that underlies traditional bildungsroman narratives, where maturity is synonymous with wisdom and goodness. In exploring the moral descent of these characters, we find that the bildungsroman genre can be expanded beyond its conventional boundaries to accommodate a richer, more nuanced understanding of human development. Growth is not inherently virtuous; it is a dynamic process that reflects the intersection of personal choice, societal forces, and philosophical ideals. By examining narratives of corruption alongside those of redemption, we gain a more comprehensive perspective on the complexities of coming-of-age, challenging the notion that the journey to adulthood must always culminate in moral clarity and fulfilment.

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