Another Laid-Back Action Hero: Yuri from Yuri on Ice!!

A variation on the relaxed tough guy that is quite common in Japanese popular culture is the nervous, self-conscious, unsure character who comes through in a crisis. 

It's a VERY popular archetype. Manga and anime are flooded with characters who just aren't positive if they can...ace that test, take that new job, propose to that person...and do anyway. 

Yuri from Yuri on Ice!!! is a great example. He is shy (except when he is drinking), gets nervous, doubts himself and doesn't live up to his potential. 

However, hints that Yuri is tougher than he thinks are there from the beginning; they aren't tacked on to allow for a great moment. His friends tell Victor, his coach and partner, that Yuri is a "sore loser." In the context, they are confirming for Victor that Yuri doesn't like to lose--and the fact is, nobody makes it to "Nationals" in the skating world without being competitive.

Yuri doesn't want to give up, no matter how often he berates himself. His personality being what it is, he needs someone to skate FOR, and Victor supplies that motivation. But his decision to throw himself completely into a routine is all Yuri. At one point, Victor--who is taking a break from skating to be a coach and is not entirely sure how to distill confidence in his skater--tries a kind of reverse psychology to shake Yuri up. It works, but only because Yuri thinks Victor is behaving like a flake. The inherent toughness of Yuri, which has always been there, comes to the fore. He pushes himself on the ice and excels. 

All the skaters, of course, are very, very good (I remember watching the Olympics once where a male runner trailed in several seconds behind everyone else--and I realized that by anyone else's reckoning, that male runner was still faster than most people). The series does an excellent job underscoring the desire to get ahead even within placid, good-humored skaters. Yuri is not as inherently talented as Yurio, his rival (his rival from Yurio's point of view, at least), but he is talented, has tremendous stamina and the ability to persevere. He also has the maturity to pull together his act, a fact that Yurio recognizes early on. 

Yuri may come off as adorably self-effacing. He knows what he wants.

Other laid-back action heroes:

• Karasuma from Assassination Classroom 
• Justin from Secret of Nimh 
• Sam Gillespie from Sister Boniface 
• Lieutenant Tao from Major Crimes
• Itami from Gate

The Trope of the Forced Relationship

Speaking of breach of promise suits...

 

A common trope in Regency romances is the couple who must marry because they were caught in a compromising situation.

 

Imagine that Elizabeth and Darcy have met again at Pemberley--no longer actively antagonistic but still wary with some of the same family hindrances--but they are caught making out by, say, one of the Bingleys, and the rumors start to fly and to protect Elizabeth's honor, the two must marry.

 

Basically, Lydia and Wickham blended with Elizabeth and Darcy.

 

It isn't a completely horrible plot. The very funny The Viscount Who Loves Me by Julia Quinn is partly based on this approach. It can work.

 

But it suffers from immediately catapulting the plot into "oh, no, we only married because we had to" angst, which can get a tad tiresome. It isn't that the conflict has zero teeth, but it's not clear where it is expected to go. Unless the book becomes all about dysfunctional people who hate each other (which plot can also be rather tedious), the only plot left is for the characters to adjust.

 

Adjustment plots can offer some substance. With A Civil Contract, Heyer produced a book in which the young high-status hero marries the daughter of a middle class financier (of rather crass manners), all in order to save his estate--and the people who live on his estate. He gives up, he thinks, a great romance with a young woman of his own class who tends to swoon in dramatic moments.

 

Over a year later after the birth of his first child, he finds that he likes his wife and is far more interested in innovations to his estate than enacting melodramatic scenes with the ex-girlfriend, who is married now to someone else anyway.

 

The book is not everyone's favorite Heyer--it's never been one of mine--but it is one of the better versions of the "they had to marry--do they even love each other" plots since Heyer allows the couple to grow naturally together over time.

 

Still, one can shake the "Uh, what else were they supposed to do? Hate each other and be miserable? Who wants to read that?" sense of inevitability.

 

Granted: part of the attraction of romance is HOW a couple works things out. But if one is writing narrative arcs, it is best to preserve some point of change or active choice...rather than to say, "Well, yeah, of course everybody trundled along okay. They are reasonably civilized people, after all." And since the point of change or choice for a "forced marriage" with a HEA (Happily Ever After) is to not have an affair, not commit murder, not wallow in self-pity, not build a separate staircase to one's study (Thomas Hardy), not write blistering letters to each other for public consumption (Bryon and...everybody)...

 

I'm not sure I see the point. Oh, thank goodness, nobody acted like a total jerk is not the most satisfying pay-off. If, on the other hand, the ultimate point is that the marriage won't work out, unless the book is a murder mystery, a non-fiction tome about the dissolution of modern marriages will achieve the same goal. 

Overall, I think Austen was wise to keep her sights trained on how the couple work things out before the wedding. The married couples in her fiction, no matter what, simply manage. Mrs. Tilney may not have had the best marriage with General Tilney, but, eh, it worked well enough. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet may be on completely different wavelengths--but they have five girls and they both care about them, if in very different ways. Other couples--such as the Crofts--are wonderful together!

 

Austen understood marriages--she was quite observant. But she was writing narratives, not self-help manuals.

Notes from the Past: Breach of Promise Suits

Embarrassed Mr. Bennet at the Netherfield Ball.

I'll start with Darcy's interference in Bingley's life in Austen's Pride & Prejudice. Darcy is so appalled by the Bennet Family's behavior at the Netherfield ball that he maneuvers Bingley into staying away from Jane Bennet. Bingley leaves for London the next morning.

On the one hand, Darcy assuming that Jane will not be hurt by Bingley's abandonment and encouraging his friend to leave so quickly is as officious and rude as anything Emma might do.

On the other hand, Darcy is trying to save Bingley from a breach of promise suit. 

For Frasier fans, Donny Douglas--Daphne's fiance--threatens to bring a breach of promise suit when she leaves him at the altar for Niles. Breach of promise suits are not that common in our modern age although they can be filed in some states.

The problem for Bingley is that what constitutes a "promise" from him is far more subtle than what constitutes a promise from men (and women) now-a-days. In Trollope's book The American Senator (1875), the femme fatale Amanda desperately attempts to maneuver Lord Rufford into making a single compromising statement, anything that will enable her to say, "But you said you would marry me!" He is never trapped, partly because he is rather clueless and partly because he is well-protected by friends like Darcy.

Bingley is a much nicer bloke than Lord Rufford, and Jane certainly never goes as far as Amanda. But Darcy would still worry that Bingley's actions could be misinterpreted, especially after Mrs. Bennet actually claims that an engagement exists! In other words, Bingley simply paying more attention to Jane than to the other single women at the ball practically implies a proposal.

Darcy also knows his friend. Unlike Lord Rufford, Bingley would agree to an engagement--even if none existed--rather than hurt anyone's feelings. And Darcy honestly believes that Jane isn't interested in Bingley. Although Darcy never says so directly in Austen's account, he likely compares Jane unfavorably to Elizabeth. Why would Bingley want to marry this cold, seemingly passionless person when he could have lively, enchanting Elizabeth?! (And if Darcy is going to give up Elizabeth, surely Bingley can give up another one of his so-called infatuations.)

Victorian Divorce Court

Moreover, although marriage is always a big deal--then and now--a bad marriage based on a mistake was not something that anyone in the nineteenth century would be walking away from. As detailed in the fascinating book Mrs. Robinson's Disgrace by Kate Summerscale, "easy" divorce did not become possible in Britain until the mid-1800s. 

"Easy" means that while a man could get a divorce based on his wife's proven infidelity, a wife could only get a divorce for infidelity and another form of abuse. The two-fold consequences of these requirements were (1) divorce court news became an instant hit with Victorians; (2) historical romance novelists who claim that the Divorce Act was a feminist triumph should keep in mind that far more men sought divorces and got them than women. (On the other hand, not a few of the Court of Divorce judges were remarkably even-handed in their judgments.) 

Overall, Darcy is trying to protect Bingley. He is wrong in his methods and possibly wrong in his interpretation of events. But someone needs to protect Bingley. 

And Darcy eventually fixes his mistakes. 

Where are the Oddballs? Heyer's Rather Tiresome Heroine Type

In Josephine Tey's To Love and Be Wise, Inspector Grant interviews Liz, the secretary of Lavinia Finch who writes romance novels. Liz confesses that she spends her evenings doing her own writing.

"What do you write--or should I ask?" Grant asks.

"I write innocuous heroines out of my system, that's all."

"Tilda the tweeny with the hare-lip and the homicidal tendencies, as an antidote to Maureen [one of Lavinia's heroines]."

I thought of this quote recently as I finished up Georgette Heyer's romance novels. I had previously read about 1/3rd to a 1/2 of them, and I should state that I am, overall, a fan. However, a certain type of heroine takes over the novels towards the end, and I was heartily sick of that type by the time I finished, enough to wish for a homicidal maniac.

The type might be best described as "nice sorority house leader."

This type of Heyer heroine is commonsensical, entirely devoted to practical matters, level-headed, perhaps a little managing but for everyone's good, a kind of Emma but without Emma's deep flaws (Heyer's heroines never go THAT far) or Emma's acerbic sense of humor. This type of Heyer heroine has a "lively sense of humor" but it is never quite as trenchant or wry as, say, that of Austen's Elizabeth. 

She also seems to have little to no interest in religion, archaeology, writing, history, gardening, or anything else. Rather, she is a social operator. She goes to parties and goes horse-back riding and takes care of various charges dumped on her doorstep and manages a household. 

In truth, she is an entirely decent character type! 

A great deal of my annoyance with the type comes from the pretense that the woman is supposedly fighting society's conventions because she lives independently and hasn't married past the age of twenty-two. 

But the independence is entirely based on an independent income or allowance. And the character never really fights the social milieu, even by the standards of Regency England (seriously). She doesn't decamp to Egypt or start prison reform or marry a footman (Regency women did), and one can't shake the feeling that her creator would consider those things rather tacky. 

Heyer's heroine flouts "convention" by doing the equivalent of posting something "out there" on Twitter but never enough that she leaves the Anglican fold or invests in scientific discoveries or actually has affairs or enters politics (yes, women did enter politics, in their own way, in the Regency Era).

Don't get me wrong: Heyer did create heroines who made lives for themselves. Phoebe's satirical book in Sylvester creates an actual scandal (and she is planning a sequel at the end!) while Venetia deliberately seeks out a fallen woman to achieve her goals. 

But a great many of the latter books seem entirely dependent on "good" women behaving in "good" ways while a bunch of characters pretend those women aren't entirely conventional, based, I suppose, on the way such women occasionally stand up for themselves. (They attend rallies on their college campuses in between hosting society shindigs.)

Malahide's comedic timing softens the

"I'm so popular" stuff

The type reminds me of Ngaoi Marsh's Inspector Alleyn. Marsh was one of a number of writers who were quite condescending and above-it-all about "that poor Dorothy Sayers falling in love with her detective, Wimsey." Marsh prided herself on creating a thoroughly unpretentious detective without any of those, tsk tsk, affectations. 

Except Alleyn is, in essence, a good fraternity boy. Sure, he is humble and self-effacing, but Marsh never lets us forget how much people admire him whilst they are defending his humble, self-effacing self. And he never really crosses any lines. Everyone in Marsh's novels treats him as "oh, my, isn't he something else," but in fact, he would never do anything that would embarrass his creator.

In comparison, Sayers was perfectly willing to have plenty of her characters loathe Wimsey, who is quite flawed and human and does embarrassing things all the time. Sayers knew what it felt like to invite ridicule. 

I like Marsh's mysteries, and I like many of Heyer's romances. But being constantly reminded of the thoroughly tasteful and seemly (yet nonetheless strong-minded) personality of a heroine gets rather irritating after awhile. 

Give me Jane Eyre's utter disdain at high society folks (based on nothing more than her sense of self) or Catherine Morland's penchant for Gothic horrors or Jo's aggressive unhappiness at Amy's behavior. 

Don't ask me to applaud a heroine for checking all the right boxes: knows society's ways, speaks out on the right topics, dresses correctly, attracts envy and liking, lives "alone" (with aunts or siblings), shows compassion, makes fun of the people who deserve it, protects children, does just enough (but not too many) risky things to raise eyebrows, participates in all the same stuff as everyone else. 

Again--perfectly acceptable and usable character type. 

But I prefer the type (and the writing) to be honest. 

Everybody in Romance Needs a Job: Sales and Executive Positions

In Woman's World, the three candidates for the general manager position come out of sales though Sid (Fred MacMurray) came up from the factory floor while the other two were university graduates.

While discussing salesmanship and leadership at the factory, Sid Burns agrees with everything company owner Ernest Gifford (Clifton Webb) says. Bill Baxter disagrees with the idea that a good salesman has to schmooze a potential buyer by pretending to have the same interests, claiming that technology will sell the product. Jerry Talbot, who eventually gets the job, holds his fire. 

Jerry is right (that's why he gets the job). Technology is a huge part of the equation. But schmooze--the ability to remember names; the ability to take a potential client seriously--is also part of the equation. Malcolm Gladwell points out that a successful seller doesn't make assumptions about anyone...and consequently, makes more contacts and ultimately, more sales. 

I think the scriptwriters could have done with more of these scenes but, then, the movie is Woman's World, not How to Get a Job World. 

Still, it helps the script that the men are competing for a specific job in a specific company and bringing specific experience to the table. Sid is very good at what he does, and he did pull himself up by smarts, dedication, and willpower. But at the executive level, he has little to offer. Bill is more interested in balancing his family with his work, yet Jerry recognizes that Bill has the intelligence, drive, and even the potential outside-the-box thinking to be general manager. Several scenes imply that the two have become friends, and Bill will become a resource. And Jerry Talbot knows how to track down resources! He is the guy who gathers around him bright people to help him do a job.

The distinctiveness of the men helps sell the distinctiveness of their wives. And vice versa.

Wonderful Manga Moment: Cherry Magic & Shopping

One of my favorite manga moments in Cherry Magic occurs when Kurosawa and Adachi go on their first date. They end up going into a clothing store. Adachi freaks out. It's one of those stores where people actually TALK to you. 

I can totally relate. Some people crave personal attention when picking out items. Me? I prefer the relaxation of anonymity. Stop watching me!

Everybody in Romance Needs a Job: Advertising

In Jun & Jun, Lee Jun goes to work for an advertising agency. He finds himself working for his childhood friend, Choi Jun, now returned to Korea from abroad. 

The romance develops as the two work on various advertising campaigns, one specifically for men's cologne. The show isn't one of my favorite BLs since it involves a love triangle, but it does have some fantastic work scenes that dovetail with the plot. 

Lee wants the campaign to have a specific tone or ambiance. The model working on the campaign--also a friend of Lee's--goes in a different direction. After conferring with his colleagues, Lee approaches the model to try to get him to follow his guidance. The advice doesn't go over well. The model leaves the studio floor in a huff.

Lee and Choi consequently confer. Choi points out that sometimes a campaign has to change to meet what is happening with the photos/model. Although he backs Lee's idea, he adds, "But even though it may be better, it's not clear what you meant."

What Lee wants is a softer look, a "boyfriend" look, and he uses Choi to do sample photos. The model is so offended at being replaced, and having his professionalism questioned, he comes back and shows that he can do that "look" as well. 

It's a great moment because it encapsulates a real issue: the gap between the image in one's head, the actual visual, and the result. Anyone who has ever had a client who wanted a whizz-bang website that was simply not possible in reality understands this problem. 

Lee has an image in his head, an entire map of how the campaign should go. Being able to (1) communicate that vision and (2) get those involved to accomplish it...

is why good advertisers get paid so many bucks.