A while back some folks were doing a meme in which they named fictional characters they wouldn't kick out of bed for eating crackers. I kept meaning to do this, but it's only in the last few weeks that a bunch of them have come to light for me at once. For others, I'd have to do some digging in memory, but I might do so yet.
All that said, the characters below aren't necessarily
characters I'd want to have sex with as they are characters I have major crushes on - intellectual, spiritual, sexual or otherwise.
I'll get the really weird one out of the way first: Elphaba, the child Wicked Witch of the West from Gregory Maguire's Wicked
. I'm still in the first half of it, but I just love her smart mouth and total self-awareness. Even as she's so obviously unpopular, she manages to make Galinda, future good witch and intolerable upper-class beauty, look like an idiot.
Next, and perhaps no less weird, is Sasha, the stunted, limping, huge-voiced and intense-eyed radical leftist from John LeCarre's new novel, Absolute Friends
. I'm sure some of this has to do with listening to this book on tape, and the wonderful John Lee's rendition of Sasha's booming, self-deprecating German accent, but he's also just such a hilarious and uncompromising and larger-than-life character that it's partially fictive crush and partially simple admiring envy at LeCarre's abilities.
Finally, the motherlode: Damiel, the angel who longs to be human from Wings of Desire
. Though I adore Bruno Ganz
, this love is quite specific to the recent ART production starring Bernard White
, who is totally my new boyfriend. This particular entry might also be cheating, as it's so completely a combination of Damiel and Bernie that I love, not just the fictional character alone. Damiel, as written, is an articulate, melancholy romantic who records the endless details of life from the very beginnings of time, while longing merely to touch human skin, smell sweat, taste coffee, see color, feel something truly. Bernie White, in the role, puts on a loud Hawaiian shirt for his transition into mortality, and when he gets there, throws chairs all over the place, marvels at the wonder of a handshake, and inhales deeply of his own shoes.
All right, I confess: maybe it's just Bernie.