Reading the *sniffle* last-ever Redwall book, The Sable Quean, followed immediately with Treasure Island, has made me think about another kind of focus I like: strategy. While strategy and character are not mutually exclusive, focusing on tactics does tend to scale back the psychological impact of, say, character death. Or at least villainous character death.
Reaction Stages of a POV Character who Kills Someone by Necessity in a Character-driven Story:
- Horror: "OH GODS WHAT HAVE I DONE?"
- Shock: *Huddles, glassy-eyed, in a corner*
- Rationalization: "It was them or me and/or my friends!"
- PTSD: *Has nightmares*
- Lifelong consequences: *Is never the same*
Reaction Stages of a POV Character who Kills Someone by Necessity in a Strategy-driven Story:
- Triumph: "Good shot, me!"
- Mathematics: "Now they only have X pirates left to our Y good guys, giving us Z odds!" (Seriously, read Treasure Island. Jim devotes a lot of mental energy to keeping track of the Pirates-to-Heroes ratio.)
There are definitely places in between these extremes. See again The Hunger Games, wherein Katniss is far from heartless, yet reacts the deaths of almost two dozen semi-innocent to completely-innocent kids and teenagers, with few exceptions, much the way Jim reacts to the deaths of pirates. (Notably absent is the "triumph" stage.)
Some of my teenagerhood love of the Redwall books came from the fascinating, if rather cold-blooded, tactical portrayals of violence. Expendable baddies allowed me to learn about siege warfare! They also served as a concrete way of determining whether progress was being made in the plot: Bad guys are obstacles. Take a few out, and you're that much closer to happily ever after! Go team!
Some fiction avoids the ethical squirminess of this stance by making the bad guys into something it's okay to destroy, like droids. Maybe they're just sort of okay to destroy, like murderous pirates. Either way, the story steps in front of any psychological implications of the violence with a grin and a, "Nothing to see here!" And, despite my usual character-centric tastes, I sympathize: I don't want to follow up the exciting, but ultimately doomed, battering-ram attack on Redwall with the funerals of two hundred rats and weasels, plus lamenting on how they never really had a chance for a better life.
One could probably make a scale of how much books fall into this category, perhaps defined by how introspective and empathetic their POV characters (or narrators) are.