In the words of the philosopher Taylor Swift, it’s exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero(ine) – but we booklovers just can’t help ourselves. An anti-heroine is a woman at the center of a story who lacks the conventional characteristics of a hero (like morality, or kindness), and is motivated by something other than The Greater Good. So, really, they’re more like real people than fictional characters. Here are thirteen books with anti-heroines that make for cracking good reads.
Gone With The Wind by Margaret Mitchell
Gone With The Wind follows Scarlett O’Hara, one of the OG anti-heroines. She’s self-involved, narcissistic, and will stop at nothing to get exactly what she wants. Her life as the spoiled daughter of a wealthy Southern plantation owner is rudely interrupted by the outbreak of the American Civil War, and she must resort to manipulation, husband-stealing, and even murder to survive. It’s hard to root for Scarlett, given that she behaves so selfishly and reprehensibly at just about every turn, but at the same time it’s hard not to be impressed by her moxie.
Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn
Gone Girl came at the crest of a wave of psychological thrillers about unlikeable women, and Amy Dunne has entered the public consciousness as the prototype for the contemporary anti-heroine. She’s beautiful, she’s bored, she’s married to a man who probably doesn’t deserve her, and she’ll stop at nothing to exact her revenge and change her life. Her carefully constructed plan to frame her husband for her murder doesn’t work out exactly as she’d hoped, but of course, she still comes out on top. Read my full review of Gone Girl here.
We Have Always Lived In The Castle by Shirley Jackson
We Have Always Lived In The Castle has a killer opening paragraph, one that introduces the anti-heroine at the heart of Shirley Jackson’s beloved novella. Mary Katherine Blackwood – or Merricat, for short – narrates the story, gradually revealing the truth of what has happened to her family and why the community has all but shunned its surviving members. The setting and conceit of the novel are ominous on their own, but Merricat’s narration turns it up to eleven. Read my full review of We Have Always Lived In The Castle here.
Carrie by Stephen King
The titular anti-heroine of Stephen King’s break-out novel, Carrie, is a young woman a lot of us can relate to, just a little bit. At home, she is subjected to abuse in the name of her mother’s religion. At school, she is bullied mercilessly by her classmates. And yet, she’s harbouring a secret, one that will be both her salvation and her undoing: she has telekinetic powers, and she’s not too fussed about using them responsibly. A cruel prank turns her gift into a weapon, one that she wields against everyone who has wronged her.
Notes On A Scandal by Zoe Heller
If you’re looking for books with anti-heroines, you get real bang for your buck with Notes On A Scandal (also called What Was She Thinking? in some regions). There is not one, but two anti-heroines at the heart of this novel. First, there’s the new art teacher at St George’s College, who begins carrying on an adulterous affair with her underage student. Then, there’s Barbara, who watches this all unfold and slowly ingratiates herself into the life of the new teacher. Soon, she’ll have nowhere else left to turn. Read my full review of Notes On A Scandal here.
The Girl On The Train by Paula Hawkins
Rachel didn’t set out to be the anti-heroine of The Girl On The Train, and she sure doesn’t see herself as one. In fact, she’d probably argue that it’s pretty heroic to investigate the apparent crime taking place in the home she passes every day on her commute. She lacks the self-awareness to realise that a drunken stalker is probably not the best person to defend the safety and well-being of a stranger – a stranger who is hiding her own secrets. Read my full review of The Girl On The Train here.
Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
There are three key women in the story of Rebecca, each an anti-heroine in her own right. First, there’s the titular character, the deceased wife of Maxim de Winter whose ghost haunts every corner of the Manderley mansion. Then, there’s the unnamed narrator, who lives in Rebecca’s shadow. She wants nothing more than her husband’s love, but she can’t stop looking for evidence that he is still in love with his late wife. Finally, there’s Mrs Danvers, who might seem like a bit-player at the start, but she’s going to bring this whole thing to a head. Read my full review of Rebecca here.
Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood
You might have a tough time deciding whether the protagonist of Alias Grace is a true anti-heroine or not. Margaret Atwood is deliberately vague in defining her character for the reader. She’s in prison after being convicted of the vicious murder of her employer, his housekeeper, and his mistress, which would suggest that she’s hardly a traditional hero – but she’s also genteel enough to work in the Governor’s house as she serves out her sentence, and she has no memory of participating in the crime for which she’s serving time. So, which is it? Is she a victim of circumstance, or a murderess? Read my full review of Alias Grace here.
Eileen by Ottessa Moshfegh
Messy, complicated anti-heroines feature in some measure in almost all of Ottessa Moshfegh’s work, but the most memorable is the character at the heart of Eileen. She is a secretary at a prison by day, and a caretaker for her alcoholic father by night, living in squalor and finding very little joy in her circumstances. When a new counselor arrives to start work at the prison, Eileen glimpses the possibility of a new friendship, and a new life for herself – neither will work out the way she planned. Read my full review of Eileen here.
My Sister, The Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite
Books with anti-heroines typically involve a bit of mystery and intrigue, but My Sister, The Serial Killer does exactly what it says on the tin. The story follows Korede, a hard-working nurse living in Lagos who spends her nights cleaning up her sister’s messes – her sister, Ayoola, has the unfortunate habit of killing her boyfriends. It might sound quirky and fun, but there’s a deeper and darker story in these pages, a clever mix of crime, romance, and family saga that reveals the impact of inherited trauma. Read my full review of My Sister, The Serial Killer here.
Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
Anna Karenina is widely considered to be one of the greatest works of literature ever written, and you don’t win any prizes for guessing the identity of the anti-heroine of the tale. It centers on an extramarital affair, between society woman Anna and cavalry officer Alexei Vronsky. It’s not just the infidelity that makes her an anti-heroine, though; it’s her defiant lack of subtlety, and her flagrant disregard for the feelings of her husband and the opinions of high society – a character trait that is both admirable and infuriating, depending how you look at it. Read my full review of Anna Karenina here.
Tess of the D’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy
Thomas Hardy’s protagonist in Tess of the D’Urbervilles is perhaps the most sympathetic and likeable of all of these anti-heroines, but she still fits the bill. A small-town girl with a basic education, Tess seeks salvation from poverty and hardship by claiming kinship with a wealthy family – only to find herself thrown from the frying pan into the proverbial fire. She winds up faced with an impossible choice, depicted with heartbreaking clarity and insight.
My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante
Your perspective on who the ‘true’ anti-heroine is will shift as you read your way through Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan novels. In My Brilliant Friend, the first book of the quartet, it seems to be quite clearly Lila, the fierce and shrewd young girl who befriends her schoolmate and neighbour, narrator Lena. And yet, as their story unfolds and their lives grow around each other, their relationship shifts and so too does the reader’s perspective on their identities. Read my full review of My Brilliant Friend here.
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