Les Misérables, fondly known as simply “Les Mis” by musical theatre aficionados, sports one of the most powerful cast of characters to grace the eyes of humankind. Jean Valjean is perhaps one of the greatest characters an actor could ever hope to play; Fantine and Eponine are two of the most sought-after female roles in musical theatre; Enjolras is unspeakably epic and often perceived as the pinnacle of human virtue.

And while the timelessly iconic image of Les Mis is that of the young Cosette colored by the French flag billowing in the wind, there is less discussion regarding this particular female character overall, especially in comparison to Fantine and Eponine, and perhaps even Madame Thénardier. If there is discussion, it seems to consist mostly of criticism or, at best, indifference. Which is strange, considering that Cosette is pretty much the poster child for the entire musical; her face is plastered all across New York when a Broadway revival occurs.

I, for one, feel virtually nothing when Cosette floats across the stage warbling about how “In my life, there are so many questions” or whatever.

The most emotion (if any) Cosette ever seems to summon from collective viewers is as a young child cleaning up the messes of drunkards and lewd sinners under the iron-fisted reign of the cruel and corrupt Thénardiers. Exploited daily, young Cosette sings the iconic “Castle on a Cloud,” dreaming of a mother and familial love.

A tug of sympathy might pull at one’s heart, but the general conclusion still seems to be thoroughly “meh.”

My sister mused that she usually doesn’t cry during “Castle on a Cloud,” despite being an easy crier (particularly when it comes to Les Mis). When asked for his opinion on the young Cosette, instead of bursting into a flurry of “She suffered so greatly and so unjustly!”, my friend said noncommittally, “I guess she was a cute kid.” (Another friend exclaimed that he couldn’t understand why Marius chose Éponine over Cosette, as Cosette “isn’t even pretty!”)

And it worsens as Cosette matures. For some reason, her increasing age seems to invalidate any reason to expend energy on feeling sorry for Cosette. We definitely prioritize other characters before her. It would be easy to simply say that there is a vast cast to pay attention to, and thus, Cosette gets lost in the mix, particularly in the second half of the musical because she is not part of the student revolution.

But it is certainly more than just a case of being forgotten or left behind. Whenever I reach Cosette’s parts in the film adaptation of the musical, or the 25th or 10th anniversary concerts, I fast forward through (nothing I can do while watching the live musical, though). I want to hear “Red and Black” and “A Little Fall of Rain” and “Bring Him Home,” not “In My Life” or even “A Heart Full of Love.”

It’s almost frustrating. There isn’t necessarily anything wrong with Cosette. And yet, she is consistently perceived as “bourgeois,” very much like the way Éponine sees her out of jealousy after discovering the love of her life has fallen for Cosette. Éponine has reason to dislike Cosette, but what do the rest of us have to say for ourselves? Do we naturally wrinkle our noses at Cosette’s every appearance because we relate more to Éponine, and thus shun Cosette? Are we, too, jealous of this seemingly perfect woman? Or are we simply inclined to dislike anything positive in a realistically much more tragic setting? Or… do we naturally turn away from positivity in general? Has cynicism in society affected us so deeply? One might say, from that perspective, that then Cosette is a little too… vanilla.

I think one of the potential reasons for this feeling, or lack thereof, toward Cosette is that she plays a different kind of role in the story. Cosette’s purpose is not to add to the tragic mix; rather, she is meant to be a beacon of hope in the story overall. Her positivity is to serve as a contrast to the constant darkness and hopelessness in Les Mis. Even in the novel, she is supposed to symbolize hope, the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak. It seems strange, however, because one could argue the Bishop plays a similar role, and yet he does not elicit anywhere near the degree of backlash Cosette receives.

And then another question arises: Why does Cosette’s idealism irritate so many when, simultaneously, we greatly admire the idealism of the revolutionary students, or “friends of the ABC”?

At this point, I might actually have to borrow a line from one of Cosette’s songs: “There are so many questions and answers that somehow seem wrong.”

And so then the major question remains: What kind(s) of characters moves us, then? If Cosette is not that person for us, who is?

Let’s break it down–or rather, let’s break her down.

Cosette is the child of the impoverished Fantine and her lover, a lover who escapes the scene soon after, leaving Fantine, Cosette’s mother, to toil and struggle to raise the child on her own. With little money and few prospects for a job in France’s ragged conditions in the 19th century, Fantine has no choice but to give up her child; she finds an inn and begs the owners, the Thénardiers, to take care of Cosette for her, and she will send payments whenever she can to cover the cost. And so begins Cosette’s childhood of exploitation and abuse, for the Thénardiers use Cosette as virtual slave labor while lying to Fantine about Cosette’s condition; they write to her asking for money because Cosette is sick, when they are really using Fantine’s hard-earned wages to support their own increasingly decadent lifestyle. Coincidentally, the Thénardiers’ daughter is Eponine, and so they grow up side by side, only to have their conditions reversed as adults. Jean Valjean comes to whisk Cosette away after promising the dying Fantine to take care of her “sick” child; he raises her as his own under much better conditions, despite being on a constant run from the law. Because of his genuine care, Cosette grows up to be a lovely young woman with what seems to be everything she could want–except a mother, of course. Then, while on the broken streets of France, she meets Marius Pontmercy and falls instantly in love, and he with her. Marius fights in the doomed revolution and survives even though the rest of his friends perish; Valjean rescues him because Cosette loves him.

Basically, at a certain point in the story, it appears that Cosette’s suffering stops and she sits back, prancing and prattling on and on about whether or not Marius loves her and why her adopted father won’t tell her the truth about Fantine or his past, while everyone else is fighting for higher causes–like justice and mere survival.

An argument might be made that the Cosette in the musical is significantly underdeveloped in comparison to the Cosette in Victor Hugo’s original novel. This would be logical, considering the musical operates under tighter time constraints while Hugo had the luxury of elaborating as much as he wanted on any one character (the same can be said of Javert and even Marius and Enjolras). The result might be that exclusive viewers of the musical garner a significantly shallower impression of Cosette than that of readers of the Victor Hugo’s original novel, and so the empathy viewers might have with her initially is quickly redirected elsewhere to seemingly more pressing charges.

This is, unfortunately, not exactly the case–at least, in my opinion. Frankly, Cosette in the novel is particularly empty compared to other characters. She seems to serve the singular purpose of driving other characters’ development and furthering their plotlines, while she remains stagnant. On the other hand, the true brunt of Cosette’s suffering is far clearer in the novel than in the musical. She is a true victim of cruelty, and so the radiant character she matures into might appear more remarkable in the novel than in the musical.

And, like with the reason some, especially those of the literary vein, dislike the otherwise raging Disney sensation Frozen, many more turn their noses up at the appearance of Cosette–it is lack of character development.

But, it seems that there is such a thing as “too nice,” or “too good to be true.” Since Cosette isn’t exactly fleshed out as a character in either the musical or the novel, she lacks the well-roundedness of characters like Éponine and Valjean, whose traits, actions, and motives are clearly portrayed. Because of this, they appear more human and relatable, while Cosette remains a symbol on the page, or, in the case of the musical, an instrument of sorts.

So the dislike directed toward Cosette isn’t fueled by the age/maturing factor; that’s merely a byproduct of her blooming into some totally perfect individual.

Éponine is a classic contrast to this. I think nearly everyone has experienced the same emotions as Éponine–those heart wrenching moments of rejection, of unrequited love. “On My Own” is one of the iconic Les Mis songs that we all sing along to. When Éponine hits the line “I love him!” accompanied by the swelling orchestral music–well, we all recognize when that scene is coming (Boublil and Schönberg). The rejection she experiences is timelessly applicable and is a motivating factor that we, as an audience, can almost appreciate. What I’ve always said is that we have all felt that we are “on my own” at some point in our lives, but we not all of us necessarily experience the pure joy of perfectly requited love as shown in “A Heart Full of Love.” In a strange way, I feel like we relish the “misery loves company” factor that is Éponine’s storyline.

And so when Cosette enters the scene in all her radiant perfection and virtue and piety, we need an outlet at which to lash out with the despair that filled our hearts when we stepped into Éponine’s shoes. It’s the other end of the spectrum, essentially. There is certainly such a thing as “too much of a good thing,” or “too good to be true” (not really in a positive way).

I call it the Taylor Swift factor.

Taylor Swift is a very prevalent part of current culture, pop or not. For actually quite a few of us, she’s the girl that we love to hate on. She’s “too nice,” we’ll say. And so with that sentiment, we assume that that attitude is fake, and she’s affecting airs. Which we, of course, disparage.

Then, we might go on to call such a character a Mary-Sue, which definitely has negative connotations. A “Mary-Sue” is often an idealized character–a trope–who may or may not be (though is more often than not) be underdeveloped and empty, and so remains a flat, goody-goody kind of character who ends up irritating everyone with her perpetual virtue.

For some reason, general wholesomeness of consistent goodness does not seem to commend praise. When we see that someone has endured a rough patch or exhibited some instability before emerging from that dark phase of his/her life, we are automatically biased toward that character. Perhaps, as frequently insecure individuals, we constantly search for signs of affirmation and mediums of comfort. So, when a character slips up and/or commits some fatal error, we instinctively feel more inclined to like that character because of the way he/she make us feel better about ourselves.

We are, after all, selfish beings naturally inclined to make mistakes. When we see others doing as we do, we feel assured and then project that relief onto the external characters as a way of showing gratitude. “Relatability” essentially entails, in this context, imperfection. This is something that Cosette very obviously lacks.

And I also believe that a significant part of us is naturally suspicious of anything that seems entirely good. Without some glaring flaw, a hamartia so to speak, apparently that flawless entity does not satisfy us. We don’t trust goodness, “vanilla-ness,” because it does not fit our perception of reality. It appears that cynicism has gripped us tightly and wound its way into our minds; nowadays, pessimism is realism. Thus, we are automatically disinclined to sunshine-y dispositions, a trait that can be placed spotted in the likes of Cosette and Taylor Swift.

So in the specific case of Les Mis the musical’s Cosette, we are immersed in a setting of despair and poverty. France is in shambles, literally and politically. Children run amok on the streets as “street urchins” without proper shoes, shelter, or nourishment. Beggars are teeming in the city. A student revolution bubbles up to the surface, spearheaded by young, brave idealistic students like Enjolras. And from this rubble appears the suddenly-grown Cosette, dressed in a floofy gown, free of grime and simpering (as we see it, biased as we are) as she helps her adopted father hand out provisions to the poor on the street. It certainly doesn’t help that she barely says anything. It’s easy to brand her as “bourgeois” and dismiss her as unworthy of our concern and sympathy. We don’t see her suffering, so we ignore her. We see what we want to see, and this clean, glimmering character in sharp contrast with the dirty slums of Saint-Michel rallies us to believe that, because she externally appears above the poor, she must be stuck-up. She’s not one with the masses, so she can’t be liked.

I’ll articulate one final thought. I don’t think I have ever enjoyed the performances of those portraying Cosette. For one, in all the times I’ve seen the musical live (three times only, to be fair), I left with no recollection of her specific appearance (though I can remember Éponine in all the performances) or the tone of her singing voice. She was simply not memorable–bland. I cannot remember anything at all about the actress playing Cosette in the 10th Anniversary Concert, and I actively disliked the one in the 25th Anniversary Concert. I like Amanda Seyfried (because of Mean Girls, really), so I merely felt thoroughly indifferent toward her performance in the film adaptation (I do remember how her voice sounded, though). Cosette is always blonde and always pale and feminine. Honestly, I don’t find her to be a character that varies much at all, not even physically. Something about the way she must be portrayed renders her uniform.

Each actor depicting Valjean, Éponine, Fantine, Javert, Marius, Enjolras, etc. has a different interpretation because there is so much more source material to work with. Cosette lacks the full background and breakdown the other characters are endowed with, and thus, when fleshed out as a three-dimensional role, there honestly isn’t much breathing room with which to put a spin on her character. She’s just… stagnant.

And so in my opinion, her songs in the musical reflect that. I know quite a few people find her songs beautiful; regardless, her songs, with the exception of “Castle on a Cloud,” have never been focused on for too long. Nearly all the other songs in Les Mis are representative in some way of the overarching story, but “In My Life” and “A Heart Full of Love” seem almost selfish in the context. In addition, there is not much power behind the lyrics and projected tones of the songs. To me, her songs are not charged with tension and conflict the way Les Mis’s other songs are, and so any memorable factors as a result are sucked out. Cosette’s songs (again, in her adult life) do not range much in dynamic or tone; her songs are… complacent. And that’s not satisfying. Perhaps it is necessary to have a couple of songs like so. We wouldn’t know, but maybe a musical chock full of epic songs detailing stormy stress would be way too overwhelming. Maybe we’re just unaware of the subconscious peace Cosette’s songs bring us. Maybe her music is meant to give us a reprieve, a moment to recover from the roiling emotions we experienced with the other songs.

Though, I must say that discussing Cosette in depth has not reversed my feeling toward her in any way; in fact, I feel more irritated than ever. As I laid out her annoyingly “good” traits and then articulated subsequent negativity directed toward that virtue, I set off an ongoing cycle of “I don’t like Cosette” and then “Why did I start actively disliking her? What’s wrong with me?” and the frustration builds.

“Beacons of hope” are tricky. I’m not saying that Victor Hugo erred terribly with his creation of Cosette, nor am I criticizing the creators of the musical adaptation. I think the flaw definitely lies within us humans. Sometimes, we react selfishly. We are occasionally offered the chance to grasp these lifelines that are meant to bring us back to the light, so often are we enveloped by darkness (sometimes self-inflicted). Instead of taking it, however, we basically throw the lifelines away, opting instead to revel in our own suffering and hopelessness. Sometimes, we don’t want to feel better. We want to be selfish and pity ourselves, count all the ways our lives suck and for some reason feel superior because of our hardship. In some cases, we’ll use this behavior to draw attention.

So when we see a character like Cosette, singing in a clear, high voice that’s nothing special because it’s literally always like that, we negatively assume that she’s holier-than-thou or something because we simply do not like that she’s so good. We want to see someone on our level–the lower level. We can excuse ourselves all we want and claim that Cosette is underdeveloped and thus we are unable to dole out the proper empathy for her; this does not account, however, for any active dislike directed toward her.

Cosette, a symbol of hope in the midst of all the pain and suffering prevalent in Les Mis, perfect as she is, does not make us feel okay about ourselves. Like the selfish people we are, we naturally relate everything back to ourselves, and so when Cosette’s piety and radiance transcends our personal understanding, we shun her. Sure, we can take into account the possibly unrealistic nature of Cosette’s generous character, or lack of character development, or the perception that she’s “bourgeois,” but the core issue is her lack of “relatability.”

She’s kind of too good for us. But I still don’t like her songs.