Literature has long been a mirror of human experience, reflecting both the brightest and darkest aspects of our existence. While many believe that literature should offer hope, inspiration, and positivity, others argue that its true value lies in its ability to capture reality, no matter how bleak. Can a story that is tragic, unsettling, or morally complex still be valuable? Absolutely. In fact, literature that delves into the uncomfortable often resonates more deeply, as seen in works like Lieutenant Nun by Catalina de Erauso, The Milky Way Prince: The Vampire Star, and What Remains of Edith Finch.

The Power of Moral Ambiguity in Lieutenant Nun

Catalina de Erauso’s Lieutenant Nun is a fascinating autobiographical account of a nun-turned-soldier navigating a world of violence and deception. Erauso’s story defies conventional expectations of heroism and morality. She disguises herself as a man, engages in brutal conflicts, and deceives those around her—all in pursuit of personal freedom. This is not a tale of virtue triumphing over vice; it’s a testament to survival in an unforgiving world. The lack of a clear moral stance is precisely what makes the text so compelling. It forces readers to question rigid moral binaries and acknowledge the complexities of human nature. If literature only focused on positivity, we would lose stories like these—ones that challenge and expand our understanding of identity, morality, and power.

The Milky Way Prince: An Unflinching Look at Toxic Love

The Milky Way Prince: The Vampire Star takes this idea further, presenting an intimate and deeply emotional exploration of an abusive relationship. The game immerses players in a toxic romance, making them experience firsthand the manipulation, emotional highs and lows, and psychological turmoil of being trapped in such a cycle. Unlike traditional narratives that offer clear resolutions, The Milky Way Prince denies easy answers, instead showing how difficult it is to escape unhealthy dynamics. This lack of a satisfying, uplifting conclusion isn’t a flaw—it’s a strength. It makes the experience real, relatable, and thought-provoking. If literature (or storytelling in general) only presented positive narratives, we’d miss out on stories that expose the hidden realities of abuse and mental illness, robbing audiences of the chance to reflect and empathize.

Finding Meaning in What Remains of Edith Finch

Similarly, What Remains of Edith Finch defies the notion that literature must be positive. This game follows Edith, the last surviving member of her family, as she uncovers the tragic fates of her relatives. Each family member’s story is heartbreakingly sad, filled with themes of inevitability, loss, and mortality. Yet, instead of being depressing for the sake of it, the game presents these tragedies in a way that makes us appreciate the beauty of storytelling and memory. Its emotional weight lingers long after the game ends, proving that stories don’t need to be optimistic to be powerful or meaningful.

Why We Need Dark, Complex Stories

So, should literature be positive? Not necessarily. Literature exists to provoke thought, spark conversation, and explore the depths of human experience. While hopeful narratives have their place, so do stories that challenge, unsettle, and even disturb us. Works like Lieutenant Nun, The Milky Way Prince, and What Remains of Edith Finch remind us that the most profound truths are often found in life’s struggles. By embracing darkness, literature doesn’t take away hope—it gives us a deeper, more honest understanding of what it means to be human.