He is absolutely a monster.
But one of the things which fascinates me about him is: does he know he is a monster?
Most people believe themselves to be good. No matter how they behave, they justify it to themselves and rationalise, maintaining the self-belief that they themselves are good. Even Hitler thought he was on the side of right, that what he was doing was a noble and just crusade.
When you look at Trump, particularly when you see his face at his most smug and repellently cocksure, you can’t help thinking that he’s enjoying being this walking affront to all decent values. He seems to love rubbing everyone’s noses in his stench, revelling in it because it doesn’t matter what we think. The only person whose opinion actually matters is the multi-billionaire Donald Trump, everyone else can just have their noses wiped in shit.
Yet for all that he clearly wants to be liked, he desires the affirmation of the crowd.
He’s a monster who wants people cheering for him even as he behaves monstrously and knows he’s behaving in monstrously.
How the hell do we get this in our story?
In the James Whale movie, the Frankenstein monster wants to be loved but isn’t because of the prejudice of the villagers and misunderstandings that happen because he is such an innocent in the world.
How do we write about a monster who sets himself up to be loathed, who rants and raves and behaves appallingly, but wants to be loved? Who thinks that despite everything, he deserves to be loved.