Last week I was in the library, doing research, and it so happened that first I re-read Deborah Lutz's The Dangerous Lover, about "The dangerous beloved [who] hides a secret melancholy interiority that flashes out in passionate violence and rage" (2) and then turned to Julia Wood's article about how women in violent relationships seek to understand them through western culture’s primary gender narrative, which prescribes and normalizes dominance and superiority for men and deference and dependence for women. Participants also relied on romance narratives – which entailed both fairy tale and dark versions – to make sense of violence in their relationships. (239)Wood isn't writing specifically about romance novels (though the report here about her article seems to have misunderstood the term "romance narratives" and assumed Wood meant "romance novels"). Wood argues that "Humans rely on narratives to make sense of their lives" (241). These "Narratives are not strictly personal accounts, or stories; instead, they are decisively social, which is to say culturally constructed, sustained, reproduced, and sometimes altered" (241). We can think, for example, of Sternberg's theory of love as a story. According to Wood, "Narratives are most urgently sought when experience does not make sense" (242), such as when a partner becomes abusive:
Immersed in this incoherence, women search out a way to narrate themselves and their experiences. One option is to interpret a relationship so that it is consistent with the culturally favored romance narrative and the gender narrative that infuses it. Entirely compatible with the fairy tale view of romance, the primary gender narrative casts men as domineering, superior, and aggressive and casts women as subordinate, forgiving, loyal, and accommodating. (243)An alternative narrative to which some of the women interviewed by Wood turned was
one that constructs violence as typical in romantic relationships. The dark script claims that it is normal for men to have ‘bad spells,’ [...] and it is normal for romantic relationships to be hurtful to women. The dark romance narrative also insists that abuse and unhappiness are not reasons to abandon the relationships because women are supposed to be forgiving and because they need men to be complete. (253)In addition,
Framing both versions of the romance narrative were knowledge and acceptance of the primary gender narrative authorized in western culture. This gender narrative stipulates that it is normal/appropriate for men to be controlling and dominating, and it is normal/appropriate for women to defer and subordinate themselves and their interests. (247)Lutz explains the figure of the dangerous lover ("The dangerous beloved [who] hides a secret melancholy interiority that flashes out in passionate violence and rage" (2)) in terms of understanding the self: "The dangerous lover narrative makes the [...] argument about ontology [...] that our 'true' selves reside in what is most strange and enemy-like, in the dangerous other" (x-xi). I have no doubt that this is a valid approach to the figure of the dangerous lover, but so is Wood's, and viewed through the analysis presented in Wood's article, the dangerous lover would also play a part in legitimising particular "romance narratives" which, in turn, can be used by some women to explain/legitimise their experiences within abusive relationships.
This sharp difference in possible readings re-echoed in my mind when I read Meriam's recent post about romance and politics:
I’ve always considered romance a bloodthirsty genre, rarely shying away from the gory details of a violent death or torture scene (recalling an early Nora Roberts’ thriller still makes me blanch). I’ve read romance novels that deal with rape and domestic abuse and child molestation. Blood and lust go hand in hand with love and romance. [...]Aoife responded that
For such a highly politicized genre (I think romance is all about the negotiation of power) romance is also a genre that tends to steer clear of overtly political stances, or straightforward social commentary.
The problem with introducing age-differences, political views, race and social commentary is that:But what happens if, as is the case for RfP, "A lot of romances strike me as political, though I’m not always sure the author is aware of the strength of the subtext"? How then do you find "escape" when the texts you read present you with subtexts you find politically or culturally problematic? I also wonder if the fact that so many of them have been written by authors, and for readers, who live in a different cultural context from mine often makes those subtexts even more obvious (because less normal and comfortable) to me. As Jules Jones recently wrote,
a) They are polarising. A significant number of readers are turned off by the inclusion of these in a genre they read for escape.
The US and the UK have a lot of things in common, including (more or less) a language. But now and then you trip over something where the culture is so wildly different that people on one side or the other may not even be able to grasp how utterly different the other culture is.Whatever the reason, I feel like I'm tripping over quite a few things in romances. I'm getting so sensitised to the many elements which I read as political but which for the target audience are presumably the "norm" or are aspirational elements, that I feel distanced from a lot of romances and am finding it more and more difficult to read them for "escape." Instead, I can't stop myself thinking about the subtexts of these romances.
I picked up Mary Balogh's No Man's Mistress recently, skipped to the back (I sometimes read the endings of romances first when I'm unsure of what to expect) and was horrified by this scene in which the hero, Ferdinand, punishes Kirby, the man who forced the heroine into prostitution:
Kirby merely covered his injured nose with both hands.I'd call that torture. According to the Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment
"I am a peaceable man," he wailed.
And so it was punishment pure and simple. And coldly and scientifically meted out. It would have been easy to render him unconscious with a few powerful blows. And it would have been easy to pity a man whose physical stature and condition gave him no chance whatsoever of winning the fight. But Ferdinand did not allow himself either the luxury of fury or the weakness of pity.
This was not for himself or for the spectators. This was not sport.
This was for Viola.
He had said he was her champion. He would avenge her, then, in the only way he could, inadequate as it was - with his physical strength.
She was his lady, and this was for her.
The spectators had grown strangely quiet and Ferdinand's knuckles on both hands were red and raw by the time he judged Daniel Kirby to be within the proverbial inch of his life. Only then did he draw back his right fist and drive it up beneath the man's chin with enough force to send him into oblivion. (332)
the term "torture" means any act by which severe pain or suffering, whether physical or mental, is intentionally inflicted on a person for such purposes as [...] punishing him for an act he or a third person has committed or is suspected of having committed, [...] when such pain or suffering is inflicted by or at the instigation of or with the consent or acquiescence of a public official or other person acting in an official capacity.Technically Ferdinand is not acting in an official capacity, but the fact that this scene takes place in the presence of "fifty or so [...] chosen witnesses [...] By now there is probably no one in the ton who does not know. [...] Everyone knows that the villain who preyed upon you has been publicly humiliated and published" (344-45) means that in the world in which the novel is set, he is the instrument of justice. It's not an uncommon in romance novels for the hero to be cast as the defender of the heroine and the one who administers violence to those who have attacked her, but it's hardly unproblematic. As Elizabeth has observed
Or as Wood puts it,Men’s protection can be welcome, valuable, even life saving. Yet in the end, this chivalry reinforces the idea that women are only safe if under male protection. The flip side of this coin is that women outside of male protection are fair game, a threat that is often targeted in very particular ways at openly lesbian women. Either way, women’s voice in consent is lost. Ignored by this equation is the fact that sexual violence is a crime overwhelmingly committed by intimates and acquaintances.
The established gender narrative defines women as needing men. Women are waiting to be rescued, waiting to have their lives and themselves completed by a man. [...] They are socialized to believe that their value and happiness depend on ‘catching a man.’ Women who accept the gender narrative that links their self-worth inextricably to having a male partner are at risk for believing that they must sustain romantic relationships, even destructive ones. (243)I've always been aware of the variety that exists within the genre and I know that I cannot possibly read every single romance written, so even if I avoid the novels whose depictions of gender roles, violence or politics I find problematic, I can still find lots of romances to read and enjoy on an emotional level, and the ones that I find problematic may still provide fodder for thought and analysis. However, I'm not sure that a blog's the best place for me to do that analysis. I know that by "thinking out loud" as I'm doing in this post, I may offend some people (e.g. readers who loved Balogh's novel), and because a blog post is written relatively quickly, I won't have had the time or resources to put together all the evidence required to bring sub-texts to the surface and fully examine them. In addition, I think I'd prefer to focus on other aspects of the genre or individual romances which I find more enjoyable, but even with them I'm finding that I want to spend more time and exploring the issues and the novels in detail than is really desirable on a blog.
Looking back on my blog posts here, I've noticed that I've gradually been writing more and more in individual posts, and posting less frequently. I think I've now reached the point where I'll only write long blog posts occasionally, and spend more time writing full-length essays (in the hope that by the time I've finished them, there will be a suitable journal in which to publish them). I'll have to see if I can relearn the art of writing short blog posts on topics which don't ask to be expanded into essays.
- Balogh, Mary. No Man's Mistress. New York: Dell, 2001.
- Lutz, Deborah. The Dangerous Lover: Gothic Villains, Byronism, and the Nineteenth-Century Seduction Narrative. Columbus: Ohio State UP, 2006.
- Wood, Julia T. “The Normalization of Violence in Heterosexual Romantic Relationships: Women’s Narratives of Love and Violence.” Journal of Social and Personal Relationships 18.2 (2001): 239-261.
The second painting is "Chivalry" (1885) by Sir Frank Dicksee, from Wikimedia Commons.
I think your pointing out the political implications of things people write without political intention is really important. There's this great history professor who once said "you can't be neutral on a moving train," and think that plays into that. There's ingrained sexism, racism, homophobia, &c. in our culture and our minds and by naively just "telling a story," we end up regurgitating that stuff. We don't think we're moving, but we're going someplace.
ReplyDeleteI can almost see why women would find stories with "The dangerous beloved [who] hides a secret melancholy interiority that flashes out in passionate violence and rage" appealing. Almost. Because, while a hero who physically dominates the heroine makes me want to break his neck, the scene you cite where a woman's lover punishes a man who hurt her makes since to me on a visceral level. Any satisfaction gained from using the hero as a vicarious empowerment figure is highly suspect, but I get the temptation.
I've noticed myself using male action heroes that way, too.
I'm reminded of the passion Beatrice's words to Benedict raised in me when she says of the fellow who's abused her cousin, "O, that I were a man! [...] I would eat his heart
in the market-place," and continues "O that I were a man for his sake! or that I
had any friend would be a man for my sake! But
manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into
compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and
trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules
that only tells a lie and swears it. I cannot be a
man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving."
I totally got that when I read it. I nearly cried. The feeling of being hunted and powerless and wanting to be on an abusive man's level and reach out vicariously to beat the daylights out of him?
It's morally problematic, but I get it.
Heros who physically overwhelm the heroine are like... anti-hot. There's the kryptonite of hotness, imo.
But I wonder about whether women get the right to have these dark fantasies. I was talking about the negative aspects of the Spike/Buffy relationship on BtVS the other day and blacksquirrel on my friendslist asked: why don't women get a space to have dark desires played out?
And that's a damn good question, imo. Why do our fantasies get held under a microscope? Why don't we go out and tackle the narratives making men abusers, since the abuser is the one who's actually doing wrong? Why do we focus on the woman? When there are so many strong women who are nevertheless hurt and stalked and ruined by these parasites.
It's this idea, almost, that if we could just make ourselves better, they wouldn't hurt us anymore.
And it's just not so.
I'd rather not dream about some immoral things. But I want to dream about others, and I think I should defend women's rights to what they want to take imaginatively.
Anyway.
I'm sorry your enjoyment of the genre's in short supply lately. I hope you find some good reads soonish. Speaking for myself, I appreciate the posts you chose to make, and respect the time you need to take between them/for other things.
Some of the most satisfying romance storylines I've found recently have been in science fiction or fantasy novels. The one attempt I made at reading a pure Romance started out well, but once the story got to the scenes where the h/h act on their attraction, the intelligent, decent hero was immediately written as a frothing animal, unable to control himself, kissing the heroine "brutally," waring her not to come to close because he couldn't control himself, etc., and I had to drop it.
Dear Society,
It's really fucked up that you've trained women to think that only punishing, animalistic men are genuinely hot.
With Best Wishes for Your Eventual Downfall,
Angel
Maybe it would be enormously better if the darkness of certain dark fantasies was recognized by the majority of people reading and writing them? I think the way that this stuff is normalized is maybe a bigger problem than its existing at all.
ReplyDeleteIt's valid to explore pathology in fiction, but the world is an uglier place if the majority of crime writers and readers think that a protagonist like (serial killer of serial killers) Dexter Morgan is the acceptable default expression of how to deal with crime.
In the same vein, the world would be very different if Romance readers and writer's no longer thought that male domaince and female oppression were the default expression of love.
the world would be very different if Romance readers and writer's no longer thought that male domaince and female oppression were the default expression of love
ReplyDeleteI don't think or feel this way, which is why I sometimes feel like an alien in the world of romance. I don't feel the appeal of rakes, "bad boys" and alpha heroes. Usually I feel a bit repelled by them, so although intellectually I can analyse the books in which they appear, I read them at an emotional distance. I'm also repelled by most uses of violence, by any character. The idea of empowerment via violent revenge (even by the "good" characters) is one I don't understand emotionally. I can accept some violence being used in particular historical contexts where it would have been expected, but even so, it distances me from the characters.
I'm fairly sure that these emotional responses of mine are tied up with my political attitudes (and I include gender politics in that) but I wouldn't really be able to say which (the emotional response or the intellectual attitude) came first. I suspect they evolved alongside each other.
I wonder about whether women get the right to have these dark fantasies.
From my perspective as someone who doesn't have them, it tends to feel as though "dark fantasies" about dangerous lovers are accepted as the norm, and those who don't have them are seen as abnormal and possibly even unwomanly. I'm thinking, for example, of descriptions of this sort of hero which are followed by statements like "he's the kind of man no woman could resist" or "he's the embodiment of women's dreams". The implication is that all women will be biologically predisposed to be attracted to promiscuous, aggressive men and want to tame them. Or that we have fantasies about doing so. The possibility that not all of us are/do doesn't seem to have been considered, and if it is, it's often labelled "politically correct" as though someone would only pretend to have these preferences for political reasons, not because they truly do emotionally feel this way.
I'd agree though that due to how gender roles have been constructed, women aren't generally expected to have violent revenge fantasies in which they themselves carry out the violence. That would no doubt be considered unwomanly by a lot of people. Since we're quoting Shakespeare, I'll give Lady Macbeth as an example (though she's not seeking revenge). She explicitly "unsexes" herself i.e. makes herself unwomanly in order to become violent and cruel:
Come, you spirits
That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,
And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full
Of direst cruelty. Make thick my blood,
Stop up th’access and passage to remorse,
That no compunctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between
Th’ effect and it. Come to my woman’s breasts,
And take my milk for gall (the bits in bold are ones I've emphasised)
I think there's going to continue to be inequality in terms of the "male dominance and female oppression" you describe until either (a) women's gender roles change so that women who are more dominant, violent etc are no longer considered "unwomanly" or unsexed but are seen as falling along a continuum of what's normal and (b) men's gender roles change so that men who are not dominant or willing to use violence are no longer considered effeminate or unmanly or (c) both genders eschew dominance and/or violence.
I think we're possibly moving towards (a) in the romance with the emergence of the "kick ass" heroine, but only in a limited way. As Smart Bitch Candy recently wrote:
The surge of demand for women in a dominant role--as pursuers and protectors and warriors--has been a long time coming, and I think it says something interesting about us and our level of comfort with and/or inability to suspend disbelief about women owning a certain sort of cultural power that most of the asskicking happens in Not Quite Earth, and that many of the heroines are Not Quite Human.
However, not only are these women most often found in paranormals, but it seems significant that even when the heroine is super-powerful, the hero tends to be super-super-powerful. There were similar discussions about the female spy in Joanna Bourne's The Spymaster's Lady. Some readers wished she could have been more aggressive/violent, but at least one other reader was not sure about this because:
if she did get the better of Grey, I would have found it emasculating for him and I wouldn’t have liked his character as much. I want my man to win! I don’t want a loser for a hero
So changes in the direction of (a) are limited, I'm not seeing many moves at all towards (b) and none at all towards (c).
"it tends to feel as though 'dark fantasies' about dangerous lovers are accepted as the norm, and those who don't have them are seen as abnormal and possibly even unwomanly. I'm thinking, for example, of descriptions of this sort of hero which are followed by statements like "he's the kind of man no woman could resist""
ReplyDeleteI don't think I have quite the same reaction to the "norming" of the genre. I certainly pick up on those messages, but I don't think they're shared by all readers or all authors. I don't even think that all the authors who write like that believe it. I may well be wrong on that.
There are a couple of reasons that I take a lot of those phrasings as unreflected imitation of prior works (though of course that does reflect something cultural) rather than as true belief systems:
On the writing end, we've talked here and elsewhere about the number of "shortcuts" that authors sometimes take, throwing in a short description that the reader is supposed to recognize as an archetype and fill in as a fully-developed character. I think it's lazy, and I think a lot of this "what every woman wants" stuff is exactly the same. Tell the reader she *should* admire the hero; it obviates the need to actually *make* the reader admire him.
On the reading end, I see problematic aspects in a lot of romances, but I read 'em anyway. I wrinkle my nose as I read some passages, but--like the dog-awful covers--sometimes that's the price you pay for reading romance. I suspect many readers similarly read romances *despite* the dated, cliché marketing and dated, cliché gender roles and dated, cliché character types. Or if not despite, perhaps in a spirit of thinking through those tensions. You've written about that aspect of reading in the past.
"I think there's going to continue to be inequality in terms of the "male dominance and female oppression" you describe until either (a) women's gender roles change so that women who are more dominant, violent etc are no longer considered "unwomanly" or unsexed but are seen as falling along a continuum of what's normal and (b) men's gender roles change so that men who are not dominant or willing to use violence are no longer considered effeminate or unmanly or (c) both genders eschew dominance and/or violence.
... changes in the direction of (a) are limited, I'm not seeing many moves at all towards (b) and none at all towards (c)."
I agree that those are some of the gender roles that get played out in romance, but I have a different perspective on change in the genre. Which is only to be expected: I read very little category romance, and I don't often read reader forums, so what informs my thoughts on the genre may be quite different from your situation.
I'm also not sure I would frame changes in gender role with such an emphasis on violence. That can be so setting-specific. E.g. looking at Balogh's scene through the lens of modern beliefs on violence and torture is an interesting compare-and-contrast, but since it's an historical fiction rather than contemporary, I find it complicated to unpack what it says about the author's view of the past or the reader's view of the behavior. I remember that scene very clearly from reading the book years ago. It stood out in my mind as an example of a problematic, imperfect aspect of a character that his partner will have to live with. I actually appreciated the scene, not because I admired the behavior but because it signaled that the hero and heroine weren't perfect and that their happy ending wouldn't be easy-going eternal bliss. So to me an objectionable side of a hero/ine can sometimes add to the story; though sometimes it crosses the line into simply gross, as perhaps that scene did for you.
I certainly pick up on those messages, but I don't think they're shared by all readers or all authors.
ReplyDeleteOh, I know. I did say that there were some books I could enjoy without tripping up over those messages. And of course there will also be readers with different preferences. It's more that, having read nothing but romances for a couple of years, and having been around a member of the online romance community for around the same length of time, I've become hyper-sensitised to some of these issues and I tend to feel out of step with a lot of the preferences expressed by readers online.
I probably just need to take a break from reading so much and get on and write some more essays! ;-)
I see problematic aspects in a lot of romances, but I read 'em anyway. I wrinkle my nose as I read some passages, but--like the dog-awful covers--sometimes that's the price you pay for reading romance. [...] Or if not despite, perhaps in a spirit of thinking through those tensions. You've written about that aspect of reading in the past.
I think there are two problems I'm having: (1) when I read for enjoyment, I want to finish the book feeling happy. I don't want to feel either horrified, shocked or like I'm inadequate/abnormal person. Those feelings can, however, be useful when reading for academic purposes, because they highlight issues in the texts that might be interesting to explore. But, and this is problem (2), as I said in my post I don't think I can really do full justice to the issues in blog posts.
I have a different perspective on change in the genre. Which is only to be expected: I read very little category romance
Actually, the category romances are generally less likely to give rise to these feelings than are the single-titles. But perhaps that's because I know some of the lines so well that within them I know which authors to avoid if I don't want to be upset. The other thing is that with category romance I know that the books are in a line, and that there's been considerable thought put into making that line have a particular ethos. The subtexts in each line's ethos are not unreflected, but are deliberately fostered by Harlequin, and they'll differ somewhat from one line to another. So reading across lines gives me a sense of the existence of different norms/expectations. I'm not explaining that well, I think.
I'm also not sure I would frame changes in gender role with such an emphasis on violence.
My emphasis was on that in this particular post because of the reading I'd been doing, which was about the dangerous lover and domestic violence. Had I been doing reading about motherhood or some other topic, I'd no doubt have approached the issue of gender roles from a different angle.
since it's an historical fiction rather than contemporary, I find it complicated to unpack what it says about the author's view of the past or the reader's view of the behavior
Yes, it is difficult to separate out what an author's writing in order to be historically accurate and what is also there because it reflects the author's values. The thing about this particular scene, though, was that it wasn't a duel. It was organised like a duel, but it was actually a fist fight, and that didn't fit in with the way that male violence is usually depicted in novels set in this period. But it did seem to fit in with the other, contemporary-set, examples that Elizabeth gave in her post.
It stood out in my mind as an example of a problematic, imperfect aspect of a character that his partner will have to live with. I actually appreciated the scene, not because I admired the behavior but because it signaled that the hero and heroine weren't perfect
As I said, I didn't read the rest of the novel prior to that scene, but the impression I got was that the hero's actions were approved of by all the bystanders, who represented society. In that context, the fight and the hero's way of fighting it, weren't presented as problematic. At least, it didn't read that way to me. I got the impression that I was supposed to find it admirable that he was so determined to punish the villain in this way.
sometimes it crosses the line into simply gross, as perhaps that scene did for you.
I felt sick and horrified. Which is why I couldn't read the rest of the novel. Maybe if I'd read it in context I'd have felt differently, but I doubt it. It was the part about the hero acting "scientifically" that I found particularly upsetting and made me think of torture.
Hello there! {waves}
ReplyDeleteThis is my first visit to your blog!
This discussion is very rich and I am thrilled to have stumbled upon it in my blog tour this evening!
Peace, blessings and DUNAMIS
Lisa
Hello and welcome, Lisa! I'm glad you've been enjoying the discussion, and thanks for introducing me to a new word.
ReplyDeleteLaura this is wonderful as usual. I don't get to TMT often enough.
ReplyDeleteYou could have been speaking for me when you commented "From my perspective as someone who doesn't have them, it tends to feel as though "dark fantasies" about dangerous lovers are accepted as the norm, and those who don't have them are seen as abnormal and possibly even unwomanly. I'm thinking, for example, of descriptions of this sort of hero which are followed by statements like "he's the kind of man no woman could resist" or "he's the embodiment of women's dreams". The implication is that all women will be biologically predisposed to be attracted to promiscuous, aggressive men and want to tame them. Or that we have fantasies about doing so."
Except rakes of a certain sort. I don't have any problem with a sexual rake as long as he's not truly promiscuous -- ie anyone, anytime. If he's the sort who truly enjoys women both their company and their bodies, that works for me.
But you really got me thinking with your comments about the man as punisher. It does often seem that women are allowed to defend -- though rarely effectively -- but not attack or punish on their own behalf. OTOH, they will fly to attack and even punish someone harming a child or (especially cute and cuddly) animal.
I think this emphasizes the power structure, because thus noble characters can only act on behalf of the inherently weaker and more vulnerable, and the heroine is thus weaker and more vulnerable than the hero -- even in some cases where he's suffering from a fever, blood loss and a broken limb or two!
While I'm generally weary of the historical heroine who's a trained fighter, a gun and some knowledge of how to use it can be a leveler. And wounded heroes should be allowed to be protected without readers deciding they're wimps.
Even though I rarely write heroines who are trained to fight, they still have a high rate of effective self-defense and hero-protection because they can think, and usually keep their heads.
My heroes sometimes come over to me and complain about these uppity women, but somehow, their sensitive egos survive.
Have you written about how cultural differences affect your romance reading, Laura? I'd find that interesting.
Jo :)
Laura this is wonderful as usual.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Jo. I'm really glad you think so.
What really struck me about the different opinions I'd been reading was that they were both thoughtful pieces and they both examined the evidence carefully, but they were reaching such different conclusions. And I could see that the reasons they reached those different conclusions was due to their very different starting points and also pointed to the fact that different people will use/read/interpret texts in different ways.
Quite a bit of the research on romance readers seems to have been based on the assumption that they were passive consumers who just accepted the ideas/actions presented in the novels. I think it's true that we are often affected by social "narratives" but at the same time, each of us has an individual history, different preferences and our own individual ways of responding emotionally to particular kinds of stories. So what might be hurtful/damaging to one reader, might be empowering or enjoyable to another reader.
You could have been speaking for me
It does feel upsetting, or at least it can feel that way to me, when I feel like I'm the only reader in the whole world who didn't enjoy a particular book, or who doesn't like a particular kind of hero/plot/setting. Intellectually I know that can't be the case, but it's always good to get confirmation of that! ;-)
And I imagine it can be hurtful for authors when they read reviews by readers who didn't like their books. Even as a reader, who only invests a much smaller amount of time and effort in reading a book, there's something very personal about the process of engaging with a novel, and we can invest so much of our own preferences and emotions in them that when those books are denigrated or unappreciated by others, we can take it personally. At least, I know I do.
Again, it's a situation where I can see two sides. Even as I critique a novel for something that I find problematic, I know that someone else may have found some other element (or even that particular element) of the novel enjoyable, and I wonder how far I should go to try to express my disquiet in a way which doesn't disrespect or dismiss other readers while still not downplaying the elements that I find problematic. Writing about books that I like/things within them that I find interesting (in a good way) is so much easier.
you really got me thinking with your comments about the man as punisher. It does often seem that women are allowed to defend -- though rarely effectively -- but not attack or punish on their own behalf.
One thing I have noticed is that some readers are really, really enthusiastic about scenes in which the heroine shoots the hero. There's one in Loretta Chase's Lord of Scoundrels and another in Heyer's Devil's Cub and I recall both of those being discussed with great gusto on one thread at the Smart Bitches'. I wonder if that enthusiasm was due to the fact that it is rare for this to happen in romances.
I also wonder if, albeit on a verbal level, this is what makes the feisty heroine so appealing to some readers. I'm thinking, for example, of what Susan Elizabeth Phillips wrote in her essay in the Dangerous Men and Adventurous Women volume:
the female romance reader finds her fears personified in the character of the virile and powerful rogue male, a character who serves not only as the hero of the novel but also, more subtly, as its villain, a potent symbol of all the obstacles life presents to women (57)
What is the ultimate fate of the most arrogant, domineering, ruthless macho hero any romance writer can create? He is tamed. [...] He is the mightiest of the mighty, the strongest of the strong. But, because he has been tamed by our heroine, because she exerts such a powerful emotional stranglehold over him, his almost superhuman physical strength is now hers to command.
Shout hallelujah, Sister! No more fear of dark alleys! (58)
But in general it's rare for heroines to punish anyone physically, even the hero. So that version of the heroine's triumph over the hero would still fit in with the cultural ideals of femininity. In this scenario the hero is the dangerous male, and the reader sees him controlled/dominated by the heroine, but she mostly does so via the power of emotions. And then, as SEP says, she can use/control his physical power. So he then becomes her physical defender. But that gets us back to the issue of whether women need to be protected and also raises questions about heroes would routinely be cast as the personification of all "the obstacles life presents to women."
Of course, if, like Laura Kinsale, you interpret the hero to be the representation of a part of the reader's own psyche, because "within the reader there are masculine elements that can and need to be realized" (38), then you might read these novels as encouraging the reader to be unladylike as she reads about the hero being violent. But the fact that the unladylike emotions are still coded as masculine could still be seen as reinforcing particular gender norms.
I'm not a psychologist, so at that point it all begins to get too complicated for me to unravel!
wounded heroes should be allowed to be protected without readers deciding they're wimps.
Yes, I'd quite like to see a bit more exploration of the variety of different ways that men can be men and still be considered attractive/sexy. The Georgian period, with men dressed in high heels, lace and makeup can be a bit of a challenge to current ideas about masculinity, but if there's then a falling back on violence as a marker of masculinity, it sort of challenges one aspect of modern masculinity while reinforcing another.
Yet people do often read romance because they want to read about characters they personally find attractive, and as long as many people find things attractive which don't match up tidily with a more egalitarian view of gender, there will continue to be all these different levels on which to read the novels and puzzle over how to assess them and what they say about gender.
Have you written about how cultural differences affect your romance reading, Laura? I'd find that interesting.
I have written a couple of posts about national identity and how that might affect the depiction of heroes. It's always a bit tricky, because I can't assume that my views/experience are particularly representative of those of all UK readers. After all, I'm half Spanish, which most definitely affects my reading of Spanish heroes. I've yet to meet any Spaniards like those, and when the arrogant Spaniard is paired up with a British woman who challenges him as no Spanish woman has ever done I get a bit annoyed by the implication that Spanish women are meek and mild. I do wonder what the author would make of the many women in my family, who are not very meek or mild at all. And recent developments in Spanish politics would also tend to underscore the fact that the real Spain doesn't bear much resemblance to what I've tended to find in romances.
I would like to do a bit of work on some romances which seemed to have a particularly explicit American flavour (e.g. representing the American dream through the characters and plot, or explicitly describing particular things/places as American). I think it'll be a bit tricky to do, though, since I'm not American and I don't want to wade into the topic and produce something full of generalisations and assumptions. So it's a project that I'll have to leave for some distant time in the future, when I've done a lot more secondary reading.
"I would like to do a bit of work on some romances which seemed to have a particularly explicit American flavour (e.g. representing the American dream through the characters and plot, or explicitly describing particular things/places as American)."
ReplyDeleteI'm not quite sure what you mean by this, Laura, but I'm aware of two story aspects that strike me as American (possibly also Canadian and other immigrant based countries) that often jar with historical realities of long established cultures such as European ones.
One is the appeal of the self-made man -- using man specifically. It doesn't seem to matter much with the heroines. In fact, an establishment/aristocratic heroine is often paired with the up-by-the-bootstraps hero, and stated or implied is that he is more worthy than all men of her own class or culture.
The other is the pull toward exploration and the new rather than the tending of the value to hand, which often brings restraints of responsibility and honor which are seen as unappealing and even weakening -- ie, the hero's a wimp for accepting the role he's been born to.
I very much enjoy self-made heroes and heroines, but their stories have to make some sense in their time and place. There have been good examples throughout history. However, it jars when the novel assumes that the self-made are inherently more noble or of more value. There are plenty of historical examples of self-made people who were truly awful, driven by ambition, greed and selfishness.
There are also plenty of examples of people born to privilege and power who were truly noble and benevolent, often at great cost to themselves.
Jo
the appeal of the self-made man
ReplyDeleteI have noticed a number of romances involving Regency aristocrats who've somehow got detached from their families and so had bad childhoods but who nonetheless managed to build up huge businesses before they're reunited with their titles/aristocratic responsibilities. It struck me as unusual/unlikely and I did wonder if this was something that would be particularly appealing to American authors and readers. But I have come across at least one example of this in a book written by a UK author, so I wouldn't want to state that this is solely a US phenomenon.
That's the sort of thing that led me to be a bit vague when describing the novels that "have a particularly explicit American flavour." Sometimes it can feel obvious, but it might be difficult to prove without doing very systematic research which checked the correlation of certain plot elments with the nationality of the authors. I'm not really in a position to do that sort of research because it would require me to do a vast amount of reading of single-titles. And then I'd have to compare them against equivalent books written by UK authors, which would be difficult because there aren't many UK authors writing single-title historical romances.
it jars when the novel assumes that the self-made are inherently more noble or of more value. There are plenty of historical examples of self-made people who were truly awful, driven by ambition, greed and selfishness.
Yes. But then again, what Georgette Heyer implies about the innate superiority of the aristocracy also grates on me (I'm thinking particularly of These Old Shades).
And some of the American-written romances I mentioned above seem to manage to have their cake and eat it on this issue, because they're about self-made aristocratic heroes.
There are also plenty of examples of people born to privilege and power who were truly noble and benevolent, often at great cost to themselves.
I wonder if part of the part of the problem with characters like this is that modern readers don't want anything to be depicted as more important than romantic love. That's not such a new phenomenon, really, given the romantic ideal of love in poverty is present (and parodied) in Sheridan's The Rivals (1775):
LYDIA: Will you then, Beverley, consent to forfeit that portion of my paltry wealth?—that burden on the wings of love?
ABSOLUTE: Oh, come to me—rich only thus—in loveliness! Bring no portion to me but thy love—’twill be generous in you, Lydia,—for well you know it is the only dower your poor Beverley can repay.
LYDIA: How persuasive are his words!—how charming will poverty be with him!
ABSOLUTE: Ah! my soul, what a life will we then live! Love shall be our idol and support! we will worship him with a monastic strictness; abjuring all worldly toys, to centre every thought and action there. Proud of calamity, we will enjoy the wreck of wealth; while the surrounding gloom of adversity shall make the flame of our pure love show doubly bright.
----
The main difference is that modern readers tend to want the characters to end up in love and rich too. But nonetheless, they might not be too happy with characters who'd not prioritise love over duty. I may be wrong about that, though, because it's not something I've seen discussed much, so I haven't got a good sense of how other readers feel about the issue.
"he main difference is that modern readers tend to want the characters to end up in love and rich too. But nonetheless, they might not be too happy with characters who'd not prioritise love over duty. I may be wrong about that, though, because it's not something I've seen discussed much, so I haven't got a good sense of how other readers feel about the issue."
ReplyDeleteI think most readers do want thecouple to end up at least comfortably situated. Personally, rich and secure works perfectly. :)
To me this is a crucial part of the happy ending because the triumphal quest in romance is not for a moment of love but for a future. Is this a modern thing? I don't think so. If we put aside romantic tragedies -- Tristan and Isolde, Romee and Juliet etc al -- all the ones I can think of end with a promise of a happy future protected from the more obvious hazards such as war, famine, poverty and such.
But honor over love-- I think that can be a great conflict/barrier element in a romance. As author and reader I don't want selfish characters. I want them to think of more than their own (individual and as couple) needs and desires. How they react to that is part of how they will be in the future, because demands of loyalty, duty, honor et al will arise and have to be negotiated, and shared values are crucial, are they not?
Jo
shared values are crucial, are they not?
ReplyDeleteIn real life relationships they certainly seem to be, though some people are perhaps more flexible/able to compromise than others. It maybe depends on how important particular values are to any given individual.
In fictional romantic relationships, though, there does seem to be relatively little discussion about shared values. I'm thinking in particular of the way that couples don't often have discussions about whether they share similar religious or political views (though sometimes differences on these and similar issues can be at the very heart of a romance plot). I wonder if this is because, for many readers, it's the case that "shared values are crucial" and they want to be able to feel that they share particular values with the characters?
"... I've become hyper-sensitised to some of these issues and I tend to feel out of step with a lot of the preferences expressed by readers online.
ReplyDeleteI probably just need to take a break from reading so much and get on and write some more essays! ;-)"
Or take a break from reading online :) Too much reading online can make me quite grumpy about books, readers, authors, and almost anything really. I feel out of step with most people I encounter online (apparently a very common feeling--I think the internet tends to expose us primarily to people *not* like ourselves!), so sometimes it works best for me to stick to a few smaller sites or take a break from the internet.
"Actually, the category romances are generally less likely to give rise to these feelings than are the single-titles."
Aha. The way you chopped my words made me realize they imply something I hadn't intended. I didn't mean to say that single-title romances portray fewer unreflected gender roles, etc; I should have separated the two thoughts. What I meant was that my perspective may be different from yours because we read differently, both in fiction and online.
"the impression I got was that the hero's actions were approved of by all the bystanders, who represented society."
I hope I didn't downplay your feelings about the scene. A reaction that strong can be really upsetting and also really fruitful to explore!
I didn't read it as a community exercise that sanctioned violence (though I think the scene does reflect a wish for the hero to champion the heroine, as you noted). I read the line "The spectators had grown strangely quiet" as indicating shock, rather than approval.
Meriam and I are discussing another author's use of violence and psychodrama, and whether it's purposeful or mindlessly exploitive. It's making me think about how I decide whether a book crosses the line for me. Sometimes it's fairly clear cut. Does that behavior fit the character or is it gratuitous? (Does the character have the intellectual, social, or political power to come up with a different solution, or is this a typical reaction?) Is the behavior dealt with in the book, to set it in context--what the heroine thinks, or what bystanders think, or what the hero himself thinks of it? Does the behavior say something important about the character that hasn't been demonstrated in other ways?
On the other hand, that's not to say every book should carefully outline a "moral of the story". I often enjoy ambiguity and unresolved questions over a story that over-explains. Sometimes I'm not sure what to make of an author who pushes the limits of what I'm comfortable reading--and sometimes I like that (both being pushed and not being sure what to think).
I feel out of step with most people I encounter online (apparently a very common feeling--I think the internet tends to expose us primarily to people *not* like ourselves!)
ReplyDeleteDoes the internet do that more than real life? I suppose perhaps it does, if you've got a lot in common with your family and/or the people you work with, but given that online people tend to congregate on sites where they share similar views/interests with the others on the site, I'd expect the internet not to be so very dissimilar from real life in terms of putting me in contact with "people like me."
What I meant was that my perspective may be different from yours because we read differently, both in fiction and online.
OK, I see what you meant.
I read the line "The spectators had grown strangely quiet" as indicating shock, rather than approval.
Unfortunately I've taken the book to the second-hand bookshop, so I can't double-check. As far as I could tell (not having read the whole novel), the context was that this was being seen as the equivalent of a duel, so was approved of by the spectators, and they'd come specifically to see justice being done. Unfortunately I can't remember if the hero's brother, who's helped organise the meeting and is a leader of the ton, explicitly says he approves of Ferdinand's actions but I had the impression that he did.
Does the behavior say something important about the character that hasn't been demonstrated in other ways?
Again, it's a bit tricky for me to comment since I haven't read the whole book and can't quote from it, but I recall Ferdinand saying something to the heroine, after the fight, about how his defence of her is about the only worthwhile thing he's done in his life. So again, that would tend to strengthen the impression that the fight is intended to be read as a heroic act of masculine protection.
"OK, I see what you meant."
ReplyDeleteOn the other hand, I'm glad I said it that way because I enjoyed your response about Harlequin/M&B being so deliberate with the values conveyed by each line. It's fascinating how Hqn/M&B codifies all that. I'm always intrigued by the I Heart Presents blog entries on what makes a Presents a Presents, because they've put a lot of thought into how style, pacing, characterization, etc convey message.
I just re-read the Balogh "punishment" scene, and it's not the scene I was thinking of during this discussion. I've obviously mixed it up with another book. From memory (obviously not dependable!), I believe the hero I'm thinking of beats the villain into the ground, but someone/everyone (now I'm not sure if it's he? a friend? spectators?) expresses discomfort over his actions. It definitely worries the heroine; I think the issue comes up earlier in the book and gets resolved by the end.
ReplyDeleteThat's interesting, RfP. It sounds as though, as with the issue of prostitution, it's a theme she's gone back to more than once. I suppose it might be interesting in both cases to look at all the novels in which she tackles these issues and compare them to see what the differences/similarities are, and if there's been any radical change in how they're presented or whether each book just adds a nuance to a relatively constant attitude/approach towards them.
ReplyDelete