Ugly Faces, Complex Souls: Reimagining Villains and Happy Endings 

Growing up, I never really connected with toys. From kitchen sets to remote-control cars, they all felt rather mundane and dull. But everything changed when a new library opened at my school. Suddenly, I discovered a world of wonder between the piles of ink and paper. I began nagging my parents to take me to libraries and read for hours, losing myself in stories. Page after page, chapter after chapter, each book felt like an unfolding spring of possibilities. I was an eager beaver, exploring libraries with enthusiasm. Every story was different…until it wasn’t. By sixth grade, I noticed a pattern.

Every tale seemed to end the same way: the hero triumphed, the villain was vanquished, and the world was set right. Why not let the villain win for once? Why must the hero always survive after completing their good deeds? I found myself frustrated. The endings were too predictable, the characters too one-dimensional. Also, I began to question why all villains were considered ugly. Why do they always have exaggerated, monstrous features? I believed villains weren’t born evil, they were made, shaped by trauma and misunderstanding. Think of Ursula from The Little Mermaid, the creature Victor Frankenstein created and called a monster, or even the Joker from Batman. 

These thoughts spiraled in my mind, leaving me vexed, shutting books with loud thumps of frustration. I felt disappointed, standing there in front of the shelf, scornfully looking down at authors who thought the same, wrote the same. I fell out of love with tales and stopped reading as a sign of silent protest. The libraries now mocked me, the shelves laughed at me, and the books teased me with their tongues out.  

Then, my teacher came to the rescue. She noticed my sudden disinterest and asked me about it. I shared my discomfort with the clichés I was encountering—the predictable endings, the simplistic good-versus-evil narratives, and the lack of complexity in the characters.

She then introduced me to the YA section where I discovered A Series of Unfortunate Events. Here, the Baudelaire orphans faced misfortune in every book, and the stories were far from the conventional happy endings I had come to expect.

This discovery forced me to rethink my assumptions. I realized that not every villain is a misunderstood soul deserving sympathy, some truly need to be punished, while others might need help. The series illustrated the complexities of both characters and situations, showing that every story has multiple layers. As I continued to read, I began to realize that the lines between hero and villain aren’t always as clear-cut as they seem. Life itself doesn’t fit neatly into the categories of good and evil; it’s full of contradictions and unexpected turns. Some characters may start out as villains, only to reveal layers of vulnerability or unhealed wounds that explain their actions. Others, who appear virtuous at first, may hide darker motives beneath their surface. This complexity taught me an important lesson: people, like stories, are far more intricate than they first appear. 

Despite this new perspective, I still maintain that in many childhood stories, villains are intentionally given exaggerated, “ugly” physical features. Think of the hunchbacked witch or the snarling ogre. These features serve as a visual cue, signaling to children that these characters are morally corrupt. A villain’s physical distortion like a large nose or sharp teeth suggests that they are not trustworthy. 

Historically, these physical traits reflected societal beliefs, where “ugliness” was linked to moral inferiority. In older stories, villains with monstrous or unique features were often portrayed as “evil” characters, reinforcing stereotypes that physical differences equal moral flaws. This not only helped children differentiate between good and evil but also subtly taught harmful biases, associating appearance with negative traits like cruelty or greed.

The contrast between the hero—usually depicted as handsome and virtuous—and the villain strengthens the idea that goodness is linked to attractiveness, while ugliness signals moral decay. I vividly recall a twelve-year-old reflection of myself in the mirror, questioning the scars on my body, my short height, my waist… A child shouldn’t be overly conscious of their looks.

But the fairytales I read, tales where beauty was a sign of goodness and ugliness a sign of evil, can plant the seeds of doubt in children and make them begin to wonder if these physical features, often considered imperfections, mean something bad.

However, in some modern storytelling, I’ve noticed villains have become more nuanced, with complex motivations and personalities. This shift encourages children to understand that good and evil are not simply defined by appearance, fostering a deeper, more thoughtful approach to character and morality. A person shouldn’t be weighed by their appearance; true worth is found inside, not in what’s seen on the surface.  

Looking back, I now realize that my frustration was a natural part of growing up, a phase where I began to question everything. I learned never to associate people’s actions and motives based on their physical looks and appearances. Every story—and life—is unique, with its own set of heroes and villains.