The Missing Fathers: Modern Heroism's False Choice

Recently, I've noticed something curious in discussions about fiction: a hunger for stories about good fathers. BookTubers and online reading communities frequently express their delight when discovering positive paternal relationships in literature, treating them almost like rare gems. This made me wonder - are strong father figures really so uncommon in modern storytelling? And if so, why?

I'll admit, I'm not the most widely-read person, so perhaps I'm working from incomplete information, but this perceived scarcity feels significant. Especially so, when contrasted with classic literature. Take Tolkien's Aragorn, who not only becomes a father, but whose entire arc is partially about earning the right to establish a family legacy. His story suggests that in older literature, fatherhood wasn't seen as the end of heroism but as one of its natural fruits.

This disconnect between what readers seem to want and what they're finding raises interesting questions about how our storytelling has evolved. In a society grappling with falling fertility rates and rising fatherlessness, why don't we see more heroes who successfully navigate both great deeds and fatherhood? Are we unconsciously reinforcing the idea that these roles are incompatible?

The answer might lie in our modern anxieties about personal achievement and independence. Contemporary culture often frames children and family responsibilities as impediments to individual greatness. They are career obstacles, creative blocks, or limitations on personal freedom. This attitude seeps into our storytelling, where heroes increasingly must choose between their calling and family connections. The message becomes clear: true greatness requires sacrifice, and that sacrifice is often familial bonds and legacy.

This narrative framework reflects broader societal shifts towards valorizing individual achievement over community and family ties. We see it in the rise of "childless by choice" movements, in career advice that warns against early parenthood, and in the countless stories of people delaying or forgoing family life in pursuit of professional success. Our fiction merely mirrors these cultural priorities, presenting heroes who achieve greatness precisely because they're unencumbered by family responsibilities.

Yet this framing stands in stark contrast to historical reality. Medieval knights, far from being lone wolves, were expected to marry and produce heirs to carry on their legacy of service. Samurai families passed down their martial traditions through generations, viewing family continuation as integral to their code of honor. Even religious warriors, often cited as examples of choosing duty over family, historically often maintained family connections while serving their calling.

History seems to indicate that greatness and legacy aren't mutually exclusive. In fact, they often reinforced each other! The transmission of values, skills, and purpose from parent to child created chains of excellence that spanned generations. These weren't seen as competing priorities but as complementary aspects of a life well-lived.

This historical truth carries a vital lesson for our modern storytelling: people tend to aspire to what they see modeled. When our stories consistently present family life and heroic achievement as incompatible choices, we risk embedding this false dichotomy in our cultural consciousness. We tell young people, implicitly but persistently, that they must choose between greatness and family bonds.

This is why I created Ciran to be a hero explicitly inspired by his own good father. He actively seeks deep family connections rather than pushing them away. His story deliberately subverts the modern trope of the isolated hero. When faced with a destiny that demands he abandon the possibility of fatherhood, he refuses. Instead, he fights for the right to be both hero and a father, recognizing that these roles can strengthen rather than diminish each other.

This isn't just about storytelling – it's about the world we want to create. We need more good fathers in reality, and that journey begins with the stories we tell. By reviving the idea of family, legacy, and children as positive goods, and goals worthy of our heroes, we can help reshape cultural expectations. Making fatherhood "cool" again in our fiction might seem like a small step, but stories have always been powerful tools for cultural change.

Perhaps it's time to retire the tired trope of the lone hero, sacrificing all personal connections for their mission, and instead, let's tell more stories about heroes who draw strength from family bonds, who fight not just for abstract ideals but for the future they want their children to inherit. After all, what could be more heroic than breaking the cycle of isolation and building a legacy of love and connection for the next generation?