Thursday, May 06, 2010

Real Change?

Today is election day in the UK so I wanted to commemorate it by posting an appropriately political quote from a romance. Unfortunately, as I've mentioned before, there aren't a lot of romances which deal with politics and politicians, and the one quote I did find takes a rather cynical view of them:
She'd have two years to get to know everybody in town. That was only about two thousand people; she could do that. And she could make a difference, she was good at making people do what she wanted. She was born to make people do what she wanted.
"My God," she said, as the full meaning of her family's legacy for lying, cheating, and scheming hit her.
She was born to be a politician. (Crusie 380-381)
Personally, I'd rather stay a little bit more idealistic about politics, and if that makes some people think I'm gullible, well, so be it. But for those who're feeling cynical, here's a call for papers for a one-day conference to be held at the Université Rennes 2, France, on 22 October 2010:

The past year and a half has marked an extraordinary period in American history: the failure of several large banks and investment firms, a government buyout of historical proportions of the banking industry, and the implosion of perhaps the largest and costliest pyramid scheme in history. One might easily be led to believe that this period of rampant corruption and scandal marks a dark turning point in America’s history and future. But such a reading of history is too quick and too condemning. Bernard Madoff, Lehman Brothers, and AIG are only the latest manifestations of a long tradition of fakes and frauds in American history. The American colonial adventure itself carried its own history of fakery (or, more precisely, the ceaseless attempt to decipher the Divine from the potentially Satanic) in the religious origins of the colonies and the obsession with seeing the divine hand in one’s fortune or loss. The founding of the young nation, as historian Gordon Wood noted, also has its own history of anxiety rooted in eighteenth century fears of “plot and deceit, contradiction and paradox.” Add to these origins a whole series of monetary crises of confidence in the young republic, the great financial scandals as well as a rising culture of fraud and trickery during the Gilded Age and the quote “There’s a sucker born every minute…and two to take ‘em,” falsely attributed to showman P.T. Barnum but more likely uttered by Joseph ("Paper Collar Joe") Bessimer, a notorious late-nineteenth century confidence man, serves to illustrate the curious confluence of competitive pressure, invention, and the by-product of fraud that marks America from its earliest days. Indeed, the dawn of the twenty-first century could be seen as a rich coming to maturity of at least two centuries of confidence men and hucksters.

Present not only in culture and society but in the nation’s artistic production, the fake or fraud has also haunted the American imaginary from its earliest origins as well: the Puritans sought signs of God’s approval in the territory they colonized but were constantly troubled by the possibility that the signs they sought or deciphered were counterfeits, laid to entrap them. From Cotton Mather through the Salem Witch Trials, from The Scarlet Letter to The Confidence Man, Jay Gatsby, or The Recognitions by William Gaddis, American literature has been obsessed with properly deciphering signs, distinguishing the true from the false. As this short list indicates, the paranoia of American literature is in the possibility of being manipulated, of being taken in by the confidence game of letters and finding oneself holding the literary equivalent of a Bernard Madoff investment share.

Fakery, frauds, and confidence games are perhaps not the sign of an America reaching its end, but rather the confirmation that America continues according to its own peculiar logic. Indeed, could one not see in contemporary or recent manifestations of fakery and fraud confirmation of a particularly American dynamic? Instead of an aberration, could we not consider fakery, frauds, and confidence games to be part of what defines an American social and political territory and literary imagination?

Contributions on this topic in the domains of literature and civilization and culture are invited for a one-day conference. Please send a short one-half to one page proposal in English or French to conference organizers by July 15, 2010. Send to Anthony Larson: anthony.larson@univ-rennes2.fr

The call for papers brought to mind Judith Ivory's Untie My Heart and Jennifer Crusie's Faking It. Those are by American authors. But what about Georgette Heyer's The Masqueraders? Georgette Heyer certainly wasn't American and yet it's fairly clear that the heroine of that novel, and her family, have been accustomed to changing their identities, living on their wits, and duping other people. All About Romance have a few more examples in their list of Cons, Burglars, & Pickpockets but I still think it's a rather small sample on which to base any firm conclusions about whether there's a "particularly American dynamic" about fraudsters and con artists in the romance genre as a whole.

Perhaps it would be easier to argue that the romance genre "has been obsessed with properly deciphering signs, distinguishing the true from the false." Certainly many romance heroines and heroes seem to spend a lot of time trying to work out how they feel, and whether the object of their feelings reciprocates. They may ponder whether apparent contempt masks attraction, attempt to distinguish sincerity from practiced seduction techniques, and seek to determine whether or not they've found true love.

Could one consider the rake, as seducer, to be the conman of the romance genre? And when a heroine is accused of being a "gold-digger" is she being asked if she's the conwoman in the field of love and marriage? What about the many instances of mistaken and assumed identities (often with twins exchanging places, as in Heyer's False Colours)? Could those plots be considered to be about a type of "con"? Could such novels be exploring the extent to which love is elicited not by surface appearance, but by underlying personality?

And now, I'm off to my local polling station, where I may or may not ponder the factors which elicit votes from the general public.

  • Crusie, Jennifer. Welcome to Temptation. New York: St Martin's, 2001.

The herring gull was drawn by John Gould and was made available by Wikimedia Commons.

9 comments:

  1. Am watching election coverage as I type; rather depressing exit poll...

    Funnily enough, the confidence trickster does strike me as a *more* American sort of character, though I find myself racking my brain for actual examples. You've already mentioned the two I could actually point to (Untie My Heart and Faking It).

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  2. With only two seats left to declare, it seems the exit poll was pretty accurate. And I'm bleary-eyed, having spent far too many hours watching the results come in.

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  3. Laura, I, too, have been fascinated by the fraud as the hero/heroine of romance. Remember TV's "Remington Steele" of the 80's. And Laura Kinsale's new "Lessons in French." Crusie, Ivory, and Gaffney have done these characters well, as has Heyer on more than one occasion, the hero of The Black Moth comes to mind. Romance as a genre may be well-suited to the fraud as hero if one considers the following definition of romance--the story of the liberation of a pair of lovers from their false identities through love.

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  4. There's so much here to think about. Laura and Kate both point out some reasons why the theme of fraud and false identity might show up in romance.

    Frauds are everywhere, but it is tempting to make sweeping (and therefore faulty) cultural generalizations about why the con man might be a particularly American literary/hero figure. Not just those cited in the call for papers, but the idealized image of a frontier, New World nation where people go to remake their lives and escape the past, a nation that values the self-made man, not aristocracy and tradition. Not that those are the values of contemporary Britain, necessarily, though when you think of the backgrounds of the three men trying to form a government . . . . (This all sounds ridiculous when I try to come up with specific texts and think of all the Americans writing Regency romance).

    The term con ARTIST implies some admiration for the con man's skills, at least the power to re-make oneself and live on one's wits. But doesn't the con (wo)man have to be redeemed to be the hero? Sophie, in the quote you open with, is planning to use her powers for good.

    Now I'm off to finish reading Pamela Clare's Extreme Exposure, which features an idealized, idealistic State Senator as a hero (though he's presented as the exception to some nasty corruption). There's another peculiarly American hero, I think--the idealistic politician who wants to prove politics can be clean and serve the people. We dream of that guy, but suspect we're getting the con man.

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  5. I suppose, when one thinks about it, all romantic relationships are cons in some ways. Most of us, when courting, try to put the best faces possible on ourselves, don't we? We probably wouldn't want to expose those deficiencies of character and/or habit that the person being courted would find reason for rejection. What, after all, is the heroine who conceals a "secret past" but a con-artist of sorts? What is the hero who refuses to reveal the "unfortunate childhood," thus creating the "big mis" but a con-man of sorts? What of the governess who tries to keep her "noble" origins under wraps? What of the hero duke who wants conceals his title so that he can "be loved for himself"? Aren't all of these cons?

    If romance crosses borders, if it is not an occurrence specific to the U.S., I can't see how it's a peculiarly American plot strategy, myself, except perhaps the probability that the greatest number of romances are written here.

    dick

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  6. "the hero of The Black Moth comes to mind"

    He's in disguise, and he's a highwayman, but he's not a confidence trickster/con artist.

    I'm not sure if, or what kind, of a difference that would make to the whole argument. Perhaps some disguises allow people to tell/discover the truth: Dick mentions the "hero duke who wants conceals his title so that he can "be loved for himself." But other disguises/cons may primarily demonstrate how good a character is at tricking other people/telling lies/telling truths in misleading ways. The latter's probably more problematic in terms of the HEA, since this depends on the reader believing the character when he/she says "I love you" and promises to be faithful for ever.

    "The term con ARTIST implies some admiration for the con man's skills, at least the power to re-make oneself and live on one's wits."

    Do you think there's a difference between the con (which involves particular skills) and putting on a disguise (which may not involve skill, if it's a disguise which helps someone get in touch with what they feel is their true self)?

    "But doesn't the con (wo)man have to be redeemed to be the hero? Sophie, in the quote you open with, is planning to use her powers for good."

    Maybe she's just conning herself that it's for everyone's good? ;-)

    I think there probably would have to be a shift of some sort, so that the reader can admire the skill involved, but has some assurance that those skills won't be used against the other protagonist.

    There's another peculiarly American hero, I think--the idealistic politician who wants to prove politics can be clean and serve the people. We dream of that guy, but suspect we're getting the con man.

    That made me think of The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance and the way that

    Stoddard confesses the whole story for the first time, but the newspaper editor refuses to publish it and burns the notes his reporter took, stating: "This is the west, sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend."

    That, of course, brings us back to whether disguises/lies/cons manifest themselves in particular ways in the US context.

    "This all sounds ridiculous when I try to come up with specific texts and think of all the Americans writing Regency romance"

    Not really, because I have the impression that Regency romances written by Americans are subtly different (in general) from romances set in the same place and period but written by British authors. Often the characters feel to me like Americans in disguise, and yet their American identity is often revealed when Americanisms slip into their speech. Whether or not one would want to think of this as the authors "conning" the readers, I don't know. Dick stated on another thread that

    "Even though its effects may be good, fiction lies. Isn't achieving a good effect through bad means amoral? Plato thought so."

    By that logic, all literature is a form of con. I don't agree, since I think it makes a difference if the readers are aware of the fictionality of what they're reading.

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  7. "Most of us, when courting, try to put the best faces possible on ourselves, don't we? We probably wouldn't want to expose those deficiencies of character and/or habit that the person being courted would find reason for rejection."

    Hmm. It's been a long, long time since I was single, but when I was I think I probably made my "deficiencies of character" very clear from the start.

    Quite apart from the moral issues involved if one ends up lying/concealing the truth, being upfront about oneself seems like the logical thing to do since

    (a) the truth will come out eventually, so what's the point of wasting time by trying to conceal any "deficiencies" and

    (b) something I think of as one of my good points might be seen by someone else as a deficiency, and vice versa.

    How would concealment help establish whether the relationship was viable in the long term?

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  8. @ L. Vivanco:

    I've argued before that romance in real life is as fictional and fantasy-filled as romance in fiction. It's something we create for the nonce; we set aside reality for the moment and indulge. We light candles, buy wine, dress ourselves and the surroundings in their best; set aside bills, babies, dishes, dirty floors and anything that reminds us of the mundane.
    In short, we create romance just as authors create romance fiction; we "con" ourselves.

    Perhaps the Regency is such a popular scene to set romance because the people--at least those described in romance fiction--of the time had the leisure, the money, the servants, the inclination to create romance. The costume and activities of the time lend themselves to it--diaphanous gowns, tight pants, and endless parties geared to joining male to female, deliberately promoting. And, because of the social strata, the Regency provides countless opportunities to remind us of Cinderella.

    Cons, it seems to me, are truths in disguise, like the social side-stepping we do to avoid conflict in daily life. They don't conceal; rather, they simply don't reveal.

    dick

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  9. It's something we create for the nonce; we set aside reality for the moment and indulge. We light candles, buy wine, dress ourselves and the surroundings in their best

    Personally, that kind of 'romance' doesn't appeal to me at all. That may be because it seems like a 'con'. But I think my distaste for this version of 'romance' may also be due to some of the aspects of the Regency which you identify:

    Perhaps the Regency is such a popular scene to set romance because the people--at least those described in romance fiction--of the time had the leisure, the money, the servants, the inclination to create romance.

    It seems 'romance' of this kind is based on the temporary adoption/mimicry of the lifestyle of a rich and aristocratic ruling class. Its not economically or socially egalitarian, and it's consumerist. Which, I suppose, takes us right back to politics.

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