According to Pamela Regis, one of the "eight essential elements of the romance novel" (30) is "The Declaration," "The scene or scenes in which the hero declares his love for the heroine, and the heroine her love for the hero" (34). She adds that "In romance novels from the last quarter of the twentieth century marriage is not necessary as long as it is clear that the heroine and hero will end up together" (37-38). Jan Cohn explains the primacy of the declaration of love thus:
The proposal of marriage belongs to the tradition of comedy, but the declaration of love comes properly from romance. [...] The knowledge of her own love is accessible to the heroine, a discovery she can make. She cannot, however, learn by herself of the hero's love; that love must be announced, and it is, in fact, the saying that matters, the speaking of the word. [...] With the resonance of ritual, the word "love" is uttered at the denouement of every romance. [...] The formulaic, even ritualized significance of the declaration of love cannot be exaggerated. "Declaration," in fact, is an inadequate term; it is as confession, as something wrung from the hero, that love is spoken. A ceremonial, even an incantatory word, "love" brings with it the profound and permanent metamorphosis into union toward which the story has inexorably driven. (32-33)Lisa Fletcher's discussion of the phrase "I love you" expands on this idea of the declaration of love as a ritual:
a performative utterance contains its own referent; the act does not precede the utterance. To utter "I love you" is, in both the Austinian sense and in common understanding, to do something; love is not declared/confessed/promised until these "three little words" are spoken. It is not enough for the amorous individual to behave lovingly towards his or her beloved; he or she must say "I love you." (26)and
Romance can only quote. "I love you" is always and only a reiteration; yet to maintain its descriptive status, it must assert its originality or uniqueness at each utterance [...] it both claims a particularly intimate moment for its speaker ("I (like no other) love you (like no other)") and, retaining its ubiquitous history and corresponding reiterative force, continues to circulate as an infinitely and endlessly appropriable utterance. To this extent it conforms to the interpretation of myth offered by Barthes in Mythologies. As a mythic utterance, "I love you" carries the baggage of innumerable citations. At each utterance, however, "I love you" is emptied out, its history hidden, in order to facilitate the supposed and essential uniqueness of the particular relation it intends to communicate. [...] "I love you" is both a confession and a cliché; it is simultaneously meaning and form - an apparently empty utterance to be refilled by each lover, but which silently retains its history. (30)It's also an utterance which is refilled by each author, and I'm sure we all have on our virtual or real "keeper shelves" romances in which the utterance of those words was particularly moving or interesting to us.
That said, are those three very specific words an utterance which it is essential to include in order for the novel to be a romance? When Jessica reviewed Stephanie Laurens's Devil's Bride, many commenters responded by saying that it was one of their very favourite of Laurens's novels. Yet Kaetrin observed that it isn't, in fact, until a later novel in the Cynster series that the hero of Devil's Bride actually says "I love you":
On a Wicked Dawn (I think I have that right - it was the second one of the twins books anyway and their titles are disconcertingly similar…) [...] is [...] the book **Minor Spoiler** where Devil finally says “I love you” to Honoria - (did you notice he didn’t in DB?) and after I read DB, I went back and re-read it and it was delicious!!In Jennifer Crusie and Bob Meyer's first collaborative novel, Don't Look Down, Crusie insisted on the inclusion of the "mythic utterance":
When we presented in Reno at National last year the crowd of 300 women hissed at me when Jenny told how my hero never said "I love you" to the heroine in the course of the book. So I rewrote, bowing to the pressure, and as the chopper comes flying in for the final showdown and JT is standing on one skid and Lucy is standing on the other side on the other skid, he yells across the cargo bay: "Hey, I love you." Well, that didn't go over well either. (He Wrote, She Wrote)I just noticed that two of the questions in the readers' guide for their second novel, Agnes and the Hitman, were "Did you notice that neither of them ever say 'I love you'? Did that make you distrust their future at the end?"
I have a few more questions of my own.
- How does this work in translations and languages other than English? In Spanish, for example, one could have "Te quiero," "Te amo," or "Te adoro." Does having more possible variations in the essential speech act make a difference to the ritual aspect of the declaration?
- Cohn focuses on the hero's declaration of love, but has so much emphasis been placed on the hero's declaration rather than the heroine's only because of the heroine-centric point of view in which romances tended to be written? Is it also due, at least in part, to gender roles and particular ideas about masculinity and male sexuality? If so, are both "I love you"s equally important in m/m romance? Are both less important in f/f romance?
- Is it absolutely essential for the characters to say "I love you"? Would another form of words be just as good? Have you ever read a romance in which there is no "declaration" at all?
- Could it be that even if the characters don't actually say the words "I love you" themselves, we as readers might appropriate those words which "circulate as an infinitely and endlessly appropriable utterance" and, in some way, say them on behalf of the characters?
- Cohn, Jan. Romance and the Erotics of Property: Mass-Market Fiction for Women. Durham: Duke UP, 1988.
- Fletcher, Lisa. Historical Romance Fiction: Heterosexuality and Performativity. Aldershot, Hampshire: Ashgate, 2008.
- Regis, Pamela. A Natural History of the Romance Novel. Philadelphia: U. of Pennsylvania P., 2003.
The photo of the love hearts comes from www.lovehearts.com. The hearts can carry a variety of declarations/confessions/promises/questions, but it's noticeable that the one in the very centre of the photo is the one with "I love you" written on it.
Personally, I don't need the words. Sometimes, given the prior behavior of the alleged "hero" in a romance novel, I simply don't believe them.
ReplyDeleteI greatly prefer Han Solo's, "I know," to a verbal declaration by an alpha jerk.
How timely that I just read The Prince of Midnight by Laura Kinsale. In that story, it's the heroine who can't say "I love you" (and the hero *tells* the reader when she says something that means she loves him). (But, later, the hero can't bring himself to propose, which then puts us back in the position where it's the hero who can't say what needs to be said.)
ReplyDeleteFor me the declaration has to come from the character who has more to lose or is more reluctant to commit--it's the pay-off.
I actually think of this issue a lot when writing. Though my first novel was an "erotic novel" rather than a romance, to me it was a romance--but the heroine never says "I love you." And when the hero says it to her, she cannot accept that he means her. However, she's an unreliable narrator. She is in love with him; she just doesn't know it. Her actions prove her love, rather than her words.
ReplyDeleteSo the thing I wonder about is, are the words themselves necessary? I think for some readers, they are; the words are a key that unlock the relationship, or the relationship isn't real until the words are spoken. But I think I have a special place in my heart for the characters who have great difficulty in saying those words, and perhaps can't manage it at all.
Sometimes, given the prior behavior of the alleged "hero" in a romance novel, I simply don't believe them.
ReplyDeleteYes, and it makes me think that despite "I love you"'s "ubiquitous history and corresponding reiterative force" it doesn't necessarily mean the same thing to all people (quite apart from the way it might be used by non-romance protagonists, who might use it when they don't mean it at all). One person's idea of "love" and "true love" might be very different from another's.
Her actions prove her love, rather than her words.
That's the benefit of actions, isn't it, that they give proof of what a person is actually feeling in a way which words might not. Not that words aren't very useful and expressive, but an "I love you" all on its own, without a lot of context, isn't necessarily going to be enough to explain what a character really feels, or what meaning they ascribe to the word "love."
I think for some readers, they are; the words are a key that unlock the relationship, or the relationship isn't real until the words are spoken.That's really interesting. I think that ties in well with what Fletcher says about the performativity of the words and how the speaking of these words can be considered an action. The idea of "unlocking" and the specialness of these particular words also reinforces what Cohn had to say about "love" being a "ceremonial, even an incantatory word."
For me the declaration has to come from the character who has more to lose or is more reluctant to commit--it's the pay-off.
I suppose traditionally, it's tended to be the man who's been seen as more reluctant to commit, hasn't it? So that might account for the focus on heroes saying "I love you."
What you say about the "pay-off" reminds me of some graphs Tumperkin drew a while ago of "the angsty journey" in her favourite romances. Romances do have to have an emotional structure/build-up, don't they? I think there's got to be some way of maintaining tension and interest throughout the novel. The "dark moment" or the moment of "ritual death" as Regis terms contributes to that too, and then the mutual exchange of "I love you"s after all the angst can feel like a reward for the reader, as well as for the characters.
It's funny, with 'False Colors' my m/m romance, I got to the end and all the way through the climactic sex scene, and was planning that practically the last words would be "I love you".
ReplyDeleteBut, when I came to it, the character took a deep breath and said "Happy New Year" instead. He *meant* "I love you", of course, but I couldn't get him to say it. But then, them not being able to say what they really meant had been something of a theme throughout.
Wow, Laura, thanks for doing my research for me! :) The article I will be writing next week is all about how "I love you" doesn't cut it for some heroes, that the heroines and the readers need "I love you" PLUS tears or other bodily representation of the truth of his emotions to trust in his declaration. My obsession with masculine tears, of course, rears its head again.
ReplyDeleteLaura Kinsale's My Sweet Folly also has an interesting discussion at the very end. The hero is unable to say "I love you" and the heroine is unable to get right the term "pussy" for her genitalia. She says "kitten"--which is an accepted slang term, of course, but the hero was trying to teach her "pussy" instead. Just thought it was interesting, especially since the hero refuses to enlighten her about other aspects of his past and their relationship, so the inability to say the right words is a vexed and thematic issue. I think it's doubly interesting because Kinsale claims she remembers very little about writing that book, because it was in the depths of her battle with her Muse and just before or the start of her breakdown.
I need the words, I'll admit. I understand why John couldn't say them at the end of False Colors and I think it was realistic and appropriate to his character, but I missed them. :) I think the best authors make the expression of the words match the characters saying them.
I need the words and I need to believe them (as Virginia said, sometimes you don't, in which case all the words in the world don't matter). Sometimes, I am not at all sure why the other character(s) believe one character's love when I certainly don't.
ReplyDeleteI don't necessarily need the tears of which Sarah is so enamored, but I do like some kind of signal of the difficulty of the words. Because if two characters meet, fall in love, and have no trouble telling each other about the love and getting to the HEA, it may be a nice story to hear over coffee, but it's a boring novel.
To me, the words are like the HEA. Some people just need a "happy for now" at the end of their romance novels, but for me the book isn't satisfying without at least the implication of forever. And love--stated love--is part of that.
I suppose I would need the words if I was telling the story only from the POV of one character. If that was the only way to know that both characters were in love - because you'd been shown it in one character's case, and heard it in the other.
ReplyDeleteBut if you're being told the story from both characters' POVs, then you can be shown it in both cases. Then I'm not sure I see the need for the words.
I suppose traditionally, it's tended to be the man who's been seen as more reluctant to commit, hasn't it? So that might account for the focus on heroes saying "I love you."I think this is an interesting point, particularly regarding Devil's Bride. The Cynster's are notorious for the heroes taking one look and deciding to commit. Literally.
ReplyDeleteFor me, it all depends on the story and with Devil's Bride, I never even noticed he hadn't said those words until I read the later story and was told there he hadn't. Then I had to go back and double-check to make sure. Sure enough, he hadn't. I still couldn't believe he hadn't. I was so sure he had.
So, why was I so sure that he had? I mean it's not like I haven't read a lot of romances. Or that I haven't run across those where the hero didn't say "I love you" and it did bother me. There's a Jayne Ann Krentz that I actively dislike for this very reason. But Devil's Bride never even caused a blip on my radar.
So, my theory would be that your second question is more on track with finding the most pertinent answer, Laura, because you know how much of an advocate I am towards romances being their story and not simply her story. I tend to think that readers who are focused on "her" are going to notice the ommission more and those that are focused on "them" or possibly even "him"/"his story" aren't.
I love this post.
ReplyDeleteI adore the declaration part of any romance and I treasure books in which the author does anything new or exciting with this key element.
I want the words. It's not like I don't believe in the HEA otherwise - but I really really want them. I can't think of a book where they haven't appeared and I've not been at least mildly peeved.
And I must say I hate where (heroes in particular) acknowledge that the heroine loves them without reciprocating (the Hans Solo 'I know'). I don't read it as being any sort of reciprocation.
Interesting stuff, Laura. The actual words 'I love you' seem to me to be relatively unimportant, although some form of clear declaration of commitment and permanence is definitely required. But as long as hero and heroine have made it clear to one another that they intend to stay together, the actual form of words seems to me to be wide open to negotiation.
ReplyDeleteI think there may be some cultural/generational differences: certainly I find the casual and public way in which '(I) love you' is sometimes used by Americans (for example, when ending a phone conversation with a family member) rather disconcerting.
I remember an early-ish category romance of Jayne Ann Krentz's (Test of Time, 1987), in which she used the three words, and the hero's reluctance to utter them, as a major plot point and symbol. At the time, I just took this to be one of those American things that I was always encountering in romance novels, like high-school proms and other weird customs... Because I enjoy Jayne's writing so much, I could see past what seemed to me an obsession with one phrase to all the underlying misunderstanding, conflict and character development, and so it didn't bother me much.
The point has already been very well made here that a completely different, apparently irrelevant, form of words may be said, and understood, to mean 'I love you'. And of course, the 'magic' words can be said untruthfully, and often are. Language is a complex thing!
But, when I came to it, the character took a deep breath and said "Happy New Year" instead. He *meant* "I love you", of course, but I couldn't get him to say it. But then, them not being able to say what they really meant had been something of a theme throughout.
ReplyDeleteI've not read the book, and I know context is very important, but just reading your description here I think that actually sounds rather touching.
Wow, Laura, thanks for doing my research for me! :)
Much as I'd like to think I've been really helpful to you, I rather suspect you've come across these texts already.
The article I will be writing next week is all about how "I love you" doesn't cut it for some heroes, that the heroines and the readers need "I love you" PLUS tears or other bodily representation of the truth of his emotions to trust in his declaration.
That seems to bring us back to both the question of believability which was raised by Virginia, Laura K, and AgTigress, the importance of actions (tell v. show), and also the extent to which a speech act is actually an action.
Since the "I love you" statement's been compared to a ritual, I wonder if it would be at all helpful to think about this in terms of the theological debates about the relative importance of faith v. works? What you say about "bodily representation of the truth" also reminds me of the debate around transubstantiation v. representation and also the differences between Catholic crucifixes, complete with the physical, bleeding body of Christ, and the more minimalist Protestant crosses.
Sorry, I'm going off at a theological tangent. Clearly, although I can take myself out of studying theology and the Middle Ages, I can't take their influence out of me!
I tend to think that readers who are focused on "her" are going to notice the ommission more and those that are focused on "them" or possibly even "him"/"his story" aren't.
I wonder if that's more true of a reader who's using the heroine as a placeholder and who herself believes the phrase "I love you" to be really important? Or someone who, while not using the heroine as a placeholder, still has an idea of what the heroine deserves, and a clear "I love you" is part of that?
Sarah's not a heroine-centred reader, though, and she really wants to see the hero not only say the words but also prove them through tears etc.
I suspect this may be one of those complicated areas where reader preferences vary, and the reasons for those preferences also vary.
if you're being told the story from both characters' POVs, then you can be shown it in both cases. Then I'm not sure I see the need for the words.
But the characters themselves aren't experiencing the story through both POVs, so do they both know how the other feels without the need for it to be stated explicitly? I'm assuming you wrote it so that it was clear to the reader they did, at least by the end of the novel.
The other thing that occurs to me is that I started off by contrasting the declaration with the betrothal/marriage, but reading through these comments I'm beginning to wonder if the declaration, using the set words "I love you," is perhaps the equivalent of a marriage vow, but performed for the reader rather than for the society in the novel itself. Does that make sense at all?
And if an "I love you" is the equivalent of a marriage vow, does that mean that "tears or other bodily representation of the truth of his emotions" are the equivalent of a wedding ring?
I started reading romance proper with Georgette Heyer, whose heroes rarely (as far as I can recollect) say 'I love you.' In fact, the declaration of love can include the hero refuting the sentiment.
ReplyDelete"She was trembling, her brain in a whirl. 'Oh, impossible! You are not - in love with me! How could you be! Are you trying to - to hoax me into believing that? No, no, don't!'
'Oh, not in the least! he assured her cheerfully. 'It is mererly that I find I cannot live without you, my adorable Frederica!'"
(Frederica)
or
""Charles!" uttered Sophy, shocked. "You cannot love me!" Mr Rivenhall pulled the door to behind them, and in a very rough fashion jerked her into his arms, and kissed her. "I don't: I dislike you excessively!" he said savagely."
(The Grand Sophy)
I find that perfectly romantic, so I'd be in the don't-need-the-words camp.
I should have thought of the Heyer examples myself, considering how well I know the books! Thank you, Marianne; they perfectly illustrate my point, and like you, I find them delightfully romantic. The meaning of the statements could not be clearer.
ReplyDeleteWithout getting into Laura's theological musings, which I am spectacularly unqualified to enter, the role of 'I love you' as a ritual, rather than literal, phrase or statement, was in part what I was groping towards, and this links up with the habit I mentioned of some Americans who use 'love ya!' as a ritual parting-sound on the same level as 'cheers' or ''bye for now' when taking leave of partners or their children (at least in telephone conversations, if not in person).
Ritual greetings eventually lose their literal meanings entirely and become no more than audible versions of body-language: 'god be with you' becomes 'goodbye', and 'How do you do?' no longer requires an answer detailing the person's state of health, but is merely repeated, a sound that means, 'I am greeting you courteously'. I wonder if this use of 'I love you' in American English is (1) based on the perception of the expression as a magical incantation, an apotropaic talisman rather than a 'mere' personal statement and (2) will be the eventual means of devaluing it completely?
I haven't heard it used this way in British English, but I have to mention the caveat that I am not always my own culture in generations much younger than my own.
Sorry, bad proof-reading: I should have said I am not always aware of the changes in language in generations younger than my own.
ReplyDeleteExcept the British go around calling complete strangers "love" or, more phonetically, "luv," all the time, in ways I don't think there's an equivalent in the US (dude? man? sweetie?). Even "sweetie" is reserved for someone with whom you have at least a slight acquaintance and has a particular power valence.
ReplyDeleteFWIW, as a hybrid UK/US, I say "I love you" to my husband and children ALL the time, but never "love ya!" to anyone else. So way more than an English person would, perhaps, but still "appropriately" placed.
Thanks very much for the examples, Marianne. It's interesting to me that (a) I didn't notice that there was no "I love you" in these novels and (b) that while I was happy with the ending of Frederica, I was more concerned about that of The Grand Sophy. That concern, though, was based on the fact that Sophy and Charles had spent so much time fighting with each other, and in that context the words "I dislike you excessively" didn't do much to reassure me that their marriage would be a happy one. Charles has earlier predicted that he will be "Shocked, maddened, and stunned perhaps, but not disappointed" when he marries Sophy, so I have the impression that their relationship is going to continue to be rather turbulent.
ReplyDeleteExcept the British go around calling complete strangers "love" or, more phonetically, "luv," all the time, in ways I don't think there's an equivalent in the US (dude? man? sweetie?).
Honey?
Anyway, not all British people would call complete strangers "love." There are regional and class differences. Depending on the region, a woman might be more likely to be called "duck" or "hen" or "petal" than "love." In artistic circles it's supposedly normal for everyone to refer to everyone else as "darling" (I have no idea if that's true, though, since I don't know any actors).
On a related note, over at AAR there's an exchange between two American women married to British men:
Laurie Ann I don't think I'm snobby or superior, however, for me the U.K. seems so unemotional, feels very unromantic and sexless.
Elaine S Ouch! I ended my first marriage in the USA to go to England to the man I married the day the ink was dry on my divorce papers. I sympathise with your husband. I think that emotional displays in the UK tend to be more private than in the US where my husband feels they are very "in your face" and somehow, in his view, less sincere - the old "have a nice day" syndrome that is sometimes mocked in Europe.
I wonder if this use of 'I love you' in American English is (1) based on the perception of the expression as a magical incantation, an apotropaic talisman rather than a 'mere' personal statement and (2) will be the eventual means of devaluing it completely?
ReplyDeleteI don't know if the last is true, but I do believe the first could definitely be playing a part because there's a phrase that keeps playing in the back of my head during this discussion. I'm not sure it was something taught to me just by my parents or a wider religious community, so at the moment I'm not even sure it's a Biblical quote or colloquial saying, but it's "Let not the sun go down on your anger".
The equivalent is to also not let the last thing you say to loved ones be in anger and I do think it's evolved into using "I love you" as a form of saying goodbye. Overuse? Possibly.
Again, though, I think there's a very valid argument for at least questioning why it's use would be a make or break issue in a book. At least every single time. Why couldn't the hero (or heroine, for that matter) have already proved their love without having said the words? Why are the words so absolutely necessary when in real life we know they can be meaningless and in truth downright fake?
Is it in essense part of the fantasy? Take them away and the entire thing crumbles? I find that very difficult to believe if an author has done good enough job of building the characters and plotting their actions for us. Which is why I choose to judge the books individually.
I'm not sure it was something taught to me just by my parents or a wider religious community, so at the moment I'm not even sure it's a Biblical quote or colloquial saying, but it's "Let not the sun go down on your anger".
ReplyDeleteThanks to Google and an online concordance, I can now confidently state that it comes from Ephesians 4:26, "Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath."
"Except the British go around calling complete strangers "love" or, more phonetically, "luv," all the time.."
ReplyDeleteNo, no, no! As Laura says, there are all sorts of arcane rules relating to this, having to do with social class, region and occupation.
I have NEVER, in all my 68 years, addressed a stranger as 'luv', and I think the same would be true of all middle-class professionals. Nor would I say 'I love you', even in circumstances where I really mean it, in the hearing of any third party. This attitude to privacy is presumably what makes some Americans think we are 'cold', and conversely makes some Brits think Americans are superficial and insincere.
But the characters themselves aren't experiencing the story through both POVs, so do they both know how the other feels without the need for it to be stated explicitly? I'm assuming you wrote it so that it was clear to the reader they did, at least by the end of the novel.Thanks Laura :) Yes, I believe that it is obvious by the end that both characters will go through hell for each other. And it's the final realization by one of them that the other does love him and will do anything for him which allows for the happy ending.
ReplyDeleteBut I think it makes a difference for me that I'm dealing with two heroes, rather than a hero and a heroine. I think in their case the romantic template that they might have used if they were wooing a woman doesn't apply. If either of them had been courting a woman then they would have thought it was important to use the words and go through the correct ceremony. But then I'm also writing historical, and there isn't really a ceremony available for two male lovers at the time. To a certain extent that means that they are silenced - they don't have appropriate words available - so they have to find other ways of expressing what they mean.
First, can I just say "squee!"? I feel just a little spesh that my comment made it into your post - nice to know someone reads them!
ReplyDeleteOkay, got that out of the way. *grins, clears throat* Here is my actual post.
I didn't actually notice until the later Laurens book that Devil hadn't done the big declaration in Devil's Bride. I think that is because, at least in that case, actions spoke as loud, if not louder than words.
Mostly though, I do usually like the declaration - BUT it has to line up with the h/h's actions for me to believe it.
There are those books where the hero is so very alpha and doesn't want to humble himself and let himself be vulnerable enough to say the 3 magic words. In those books, the heroine wants the words not because she needs to know - very often she already does - but, I think, it is about her wanting him to trust her with his vulnerability, her wanting him to be willing to humble himself just for her. When he says I love you, he's doing I love you - saying it is a BIG DEAL and she knows it. (does that make sense?)
One of my favourite declarations is in the secondary romance between Eden and Lavinia in Mary Balogh's Irresistible. (the rest of the story is great too but we're talking love declarations so I'll stick to the topic!).
Their story is mostly the light relief in the book. They don't like each other at all at first and bicker (amusingly, for the reader at least) their way to their HEA. Anyway, for your reading pleasure, here it is:-
"Eden", she said, tightening her arms about his waist when he would have drawn away, "say it."
"It?" He grimaced.
"What you would not say earlier," she said. "Say it. I want to hear it."
"You certainly enjoy taking you pound of flesh, do you not?" he said, frowning.
Lavinia smiled her dazzling smile at him.
"Lord," he said, "you had better not do too much of that until we are standing beside - or better yet lying in - our marriage bed. I have enough to cope with. Now let me see - it." He cleared his throat. "Here we go then. I love you. Was that it? I hope I have not been through that torture only to find it was something else you wanted to hear."Ahhh. Gets me every time!
There's a clever modern update of this idea on a recent episode of the TV comedy How I Met Your Mother. The secondary characters Barney and Robin, both tough, promiscuous, cynical, finally acknowledge, but only to themselves, that they love each other. When Barney breaks down and says the words, Robin does the one thing that turns him off: she reciprocates. This is played for laughs in an ongoing cycle, each one in turn making the declaration, only to then reject the other once the love is reciprocated.
ReplyDeleteThey're both convinced that "love" is a form of weakness. By making the declaration, a person proves herself/himself unworthy of the other's love. By the end of the episode they've been round and round this so many times they give up, fall into a passionate kiss, go off in search of a bed, and decide they'll "sort this out later."
This is clearly in the tradition of Shakespeare, on through Heyer and no doubt many authors in between--the evenly matched "hostile" lovers (Beatrice and Benedick of Much Ado About Nothing, for example) who fight verbally and sometimes physically. They really may not "like" each other. In this form of romance, "liking" (not hating), is the opposite of romantic loving.
Heyer's romances, cited so perfectly earlier in this comment thread by Marianne McA, are also very much in the popular style of 1930s movie comedies, where the hero and heroine exchange witty dialogue but rarely say "I love you." For me, these stories work very well as romance if the writer is good (like Shakespeare--and Heyer). As Pam Regis has pointed out, Heyer brought a 1930s sensibility to her historical romances, and these examples show how her Regency world was informed--delightfully--by this 30s style.
For my own personal preference, I loathe a Hans Solo "I know." That strikes me as smug and smirking, and not love at all--whereas a very-much-in-character "I dislike you excessively" can be supremely erotic and loving.
I also agree with Alex Beecroft that in an m/m romance, it may be more in character for a man not to say the exact words, "I love you." Just reading this now, I can imagine "Happy New Year" as almost tearfully and beautifully moving between two men of the Georgian era. I suspect that both men and women in those days used the three-word phrase sparingly, if ever.
It's interesting to see how Jane Austen, in Pride and Prejudice, doesn't give us the moment of declaration, but only shows the aftermath, with Elizabeth and Darcy, having just become engaged, comparing when their "love" began. It's too intimate, I think, for Austen to show us either one saying those exact three words.
Writing my own m/m/f novel, I was aware as I was finishing it that my hero had never said the words to his wife. After all they had been through, the misunderstandings in what has begun as a marriage of convenience, it seemed essential that he say it. As Kaetrin said:
"There are those books where the hero is so very alpha and doesn't want to humble himself and let himself be vulnerable enough to say the 3 magic words. In those books, the heroine wants the words not because she needs to know - very often she already does - but, I think, it is about her wanting him to trust her with his vulnerability, her wanting him to be willing to humble himself just for her. When he says I love you, he's doing I love you - saying it is a BIG DEAL and she knows it. (does that make sense?)"
Yes, it makes perfect sense. So I had my hero, Andrew, say the words to his wife, Phyllida, but only after their big reconciliation, at the end of the book. And of course, it was vitally important to the story that Andrew then make a similar declaration to his male partner, Matthew, which he does in the next chapter, not with the three words, but by calling Matthew "my love."
If the lovers don't show their love, all the telling in the world won't make up for it - and if they *do* show it, you don't need the words. It might be an m/m thing, but I find the 'I love you' declaration positively jarring unless handled very well. I want it *torn* from the lips of a man struggling with his feelings, not tripping lightly with every minor act - which I've seen too often.
ReplyDeleteThe harder it is for the hero to say it, the more moving it is. But I'd rather they didn't say it at all.
Heyer's romances, cited so perfectly earlier in this comment thread by Marianne McA, are also very much in the popular style of 1930s movie comedies, where the hero and heroine exchange witty dialogue but rarely say "I love you." For me, these stories work very well as romance if the writer is good (like Shakespeare--and Heyer).
ReplyDeleteNick and Nora! Of Thin Man fame. :D In The Thin Man Goes Home (c. 1944) Nora tells Nick's mother that they'd been married three years before he told her he loved her. Yes, I have the DVD collection and I checked for the exact wording just now. ;)
I'm not even sure it's an "alpha" thing so much as a male thing, though. And sometimes it just doesn't fit the story.
I think I recall Maili saying that she had been married for 2 years to Will before she said the magic words, and I know that a friend said them to her husband about 5 years after they were married, whereas my husband and I constantly say the words.
ReplyDeleteNot American, Agtigress, however my Indigenous Australian mother told us she loved us when we woke, when we went to school, when we came home from school, when we went to bed and many times in between. In our family we do say 'Love ya, bye'. My husband told me he loved me after we had known each other only a short amount of time and I think I needed to hear that. 37 years ago.