Antiheroes: A Guest Post by Emma C. Wells
What do you like best about an antihero? Is it their relatability or maybe their compelling moral ambiguity? Our Monthly Pick author Emma C. Wells appreciates both — and gave us a brand-new antihero to obsess over. Wells breaks down the inner-workings of Cordelia Black — the charismatic vigilante at the heart of This Girl’s a Killer — in her exclusive essay, down below.
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This Girl's a Killer: A Novel
This Girl's a Killer: A Novel
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Paperback $16.99
We support women’s rights, and (when it comes to Cordelia Black) women’s wrongs.
We support women’s rights, and (when it comes to Cordelia Black) women’s wrongs.
Let’s face it – even if (like me) you love antiheros, you wouldn’t expect them to be fun at parties. They tend to be portrayed as surly loners. Maybe even menacing—certainly not reliable. If they have a sense of humor, it’s probably biting.
Then, there’s Cordelia Black.
On the outside, Cordelia is picture perfect: she’s loyal, brilliant, and never with a single highlighted strand of hair out of place. She’s a fierce friend, and a delight at social gatherings. She’ll even bring the Champagne (and it’ll be good Champagne, because Cordelia’s taste is impeccable).
To put it bluntly, Cordelia Black is charming as hell. And it’s all by design.
After all, what harm can a silly blonde in a minidress do?
Lots. The answer is lots.
On Friday nights, cool, collected Cordelia arms herself with sleeping pills, a razor knife, and a well-planned disguise. Then she goes hunting. That’s right, Cordelia Black—adoring godmother, top pharma salesperson, and all-around girl’s-girl—is a serial killer. One who disarms predators with the flutter of her lashes and a demure smile. By the time her prey realizes his mistake, he’s already strapped to the table in Cordelia’s kill room, where he’ll soon beg forgiveness as she recounts his crimes. But it’s not Cordelia’s job to forgive—she’s there to make him pay.
People ask me how I came up with such a character. The truth? I don’t think I could have avoided her. She came from the part of me that is fed up with rearranging my life to minimize the risk of predators. The possibility of violence is so normalized in each stage of women’s lives, that it passively (and often not-so-passively) touches every aspect of our decision-making. From choosing outfits when we’re young, or parking spaces when we’re elderly, to weighing the risk of solo adventures, to even choosing when and where we go for runs—women are forced to consider the men who may cross our paths. Frankly, it’s exhausting. I’m not sure what it says about me as a person, but creating a character who is unflinching in her vengeance while leaning into feminine traits that are often viewed as weak, was, in a way, curative. In This Girl’s A Killer, Cordelia’s love of “girly” things doesn’t negate her bad-assery—it multiplies it.
Antiheros do the wrong thing for the right reasons. Cordelia is no exception. While this author only condones such acts in my beloved thrillers, I think we can all appreciate that Cordelia hits back against predators to make her little slice of the world safer.
If you asked Cordelia, she’d insist she’s not a serial killer because everyone she’s killed had it coming. Cordelia would say she’s karma. She’s catharsis. She kills bad men (and enjoys it). Is she a little unhinged? Maybe. But the extremes women must go through to keep ourselves protected in this world often leaves me feeling a little unhinged. All that neurosis had to go somewhere. So, I gave it to Cordelia who put it to good use.