Everybody in Romance Should Have a Job: Cops in Fake

On Votaries, I discuss the importance of jobs in fiction, specifically mystery shows, specifically Blue Bloods. 

Job are important in romance too. 

I especially enjoy the cops in Sanami Matoh's Fake.

Fake is the first yaoi series that I read--if one discounts Descendants of Darkness (which many critics do, placing it in the "too complicated to label" genre).

I believe that I read the first volume through the local library system. Memory being what it is, it is possible that I initially Interlibrary-loaned the first 6 volumes (I know I had to order the 7th from Amazon--I then worked backwards to collect them all). 

I was immediately enchanted. I love police procedurals, for one thing (Blue Bloods, The Closer, Law & Order). The series is also exceptionally well-translated; I'm convinced that the translator, Nan Rymer is also a Law & Order fan. The slang, interoffice grumblings, in-office arguments, use of expletives and contemporary allusions are entirely appropriate to the genre and to Law & Order specifically. The series came out in 1994 and was translated in 2003. I have elsewhere compared Dee to Mike Logan from original Law & Order. Ryo, on the other hand, is the archetypal dreamy hero though he is a sharpshooter par excellence!

Dee in Mike Logan-mode

In some ways, Fake was an entirely appropriate introduction to yaoi: the high jinks, ADHD ongoing action, the entire lack of reality despite the realistic setting: everyone in the police department is completely blithe about Dee and J.J.'s sexuality. Eh, so they're bi and gay; hey, who cares?! FYI: The series is set in the late 1990s, not the distant future.

In some ways, reading Fake first was a little misleading. I had no idea until much later that having Dee and Ryo be tall, obviously masculine, and equally aggressive (cop-wise) was in any way unusual for yaoi, especially yaoi in the late 1990s. Dee is the pursuer while Ryo is the pursued--but again, I didn't realize until much later that their seme/uke roles are quite unlike those in much other yaoi. Dee is always trying to kiss Ryo but there is no non-con, and he accepts Ryo's apparent disinterest with grace and surprising maturity (this is Dee we're talking about). As for Ryo, he isn't a straight man falling in love against his will with another guy. He's a gay man coming to terms with being gay.

I had no idea that any of this was outside-the-box. All I cared about, then and now, was the stories and character development. Each volume has several "cases" from a serial bomber to several serial killers to a couple of drug lords. Each case is well-plotted. There's an overarching plot with a sweet resolution.

The character development is aided, of course, by the fact that the romance takes place in the workplace. The characters have jobs! 

They are cops, so they have cases to discuss (see above), witnesses to interview and protect, clues to track down, fights to end. They also have a blustery Gormley-type boss, a competitive detective who tries to break up their partnership, and--after the station house is blown up--a new office to move into. 

They do all of that while presenting personal character flaws and virtues in a comprehensible context.

The series does end a tad abruptly--though there have been additions. Matoh's art changed slightly later on--I discuss this when I reviewed Until the Full Moon. For now, I will state that Matoh continues to represent for me the powerful enchantment of art-in-motion (see post about Good Manga Art). 

A-Z Romance! Chase

Loretta Chase is one of my favorite romance writers. She captures the Regency time period alongside screwball comedy banter and various set-ups that require strong pay-offs.

I reread Knaves' Wager, one of her earliest. Her later novels are somewhat more complex plotwise, but this early novel indicates Chase's strengths. It provides characters and conflicts that are resolved through more than an abrupt death or sudden change of mind, both the equivalent of deus ex machinas.

 

Loretta's characters are clever; her problems demanding. The set-ups demand clever and demanding resolutions.

 

In terms of character growth, she does a decent job with her "knave," Lord Julian Brandon, who comes to realize how much he wants to seduce widow Lilith Davenant and spend time with her, even to the point of discussing...drainage!

 

Her heroine, strong-minded and somewhat regal and more than a little shattered by her past marriage, is likable. Strong-minded heroines will come up again and again in this list. If they have reasons for their strong-mindedness, including their fundamental personalities, they are far more likable than if they are operating within some kind of slated role. Chase's strong-minded women are always well-rounded characters. 

In fact, my favorite Chase is Mr. Impossible, which takes place in Egypt, involves a rascally hero and a smart, strong-minded, somewhat tunnel-visioned heroine (in the Temperance Brennan tradition). It delivers hilarious dialog alongside a Rider Haggard adventure.

 

Chase brings home to readers that romance is a story; it is an art in its own right.

Romance in Historical Epic Films: Couples as a Given

Although romance is almost always in epics, it is usually not the focus of the epic, not even Last of the Mohicans, which I would argue is mostly an excuse to look at the landscape and the beautiful people.

I don't consider the lack of romance a flaw. It isn't good to not have it. It isn't bad to not have it. It just is.

I do get irritated when it seems like the romance is there just to be a source of epic angst. I quite enjoy the first half of Cleopatra with Elizabeth Taylor. I find the second half--as Antony self-destructs--rather dull. Likewise, I never moved on to Rome's second season, in part because I thought the death of the wife was pointless (I was far more interested in watching an ordinary family survive the upheavals in Ancient Rome than watching them enact melodramas) and mostly because I don't care how much Cleopatra and Antony loved each other or destroyed one another, which the second season, by default, focused on.

 

From a more workable standpoint, Dov's romance with Karen in Exodus belongs in the "and then she died" category since no parental figure of good sense would encourage Karen to commit to Dov. Her death is more about Dov's growth than Karen's in any case. 

Maria and Andrea

Two non-doomed romances in epics--Hawkeye and Cora from Last of the Mohicans and Andrea and Maria from Guns of Navarone--work to an extent because they are taken for granted. Hawkeye does rescue Cora and there is a kind of a rival but the relationship by the leads is assumed. In Guns, Andrea's relationship with the freedom fighter, Maria, provides motivation for Andrea to change direction in his life. The romance is skillfully set up in prior scenes, in part because Maria announces her attraction to Andrea (providing an opportunity for Gregory Peck's Keith Mallory, who is in the car during the exchange, to look blankly bemused, which he does effortlessly). 

 

Epics in romance are opportunities to present romances as givens, which approach can itself be quite relaxing. 

Bromances: Joe Penny

Joe Penny is quite good at bromance. In Jake and the Fatman, he is younger enough (by thirty-six years) than his co-star (William Conrad) for J.L. McCabe to refer to Jake at one point as a son. However, the show presents them more as friends than a father and son.

In Riptide, Joe Penny and Perry King are peers who served together in the military, then started a detective agency run out of a boat.

In both cases, there is a strong domestic side to the relationship. McCabe drops in on Jake unexpectedly and expects him to make McCabe dinner. Cody and Nick live together on the boat.

In all cases, the young virile detectives pursue girls. But they always cycle back to their home base.

Since Joe Penny is a main character in both, I'll focus on him. And what makes him good at bromance is his unself-consciousness. He is quite tactile, not just with the other main characters but with minor characters, such as his nephew. That is, he isn't afraid to hug and kiss. He is physically at ease. This easiness goes a long way towards selling the bromance relationship.

I know that cultural assumptions are...assumptions. However, Penny's mother was Italian. There's a whole science of proximity (proxemics)--how close people are willing to get to each other, what feels natural versus what doesn't--which states that North Americans apparently prefer a distance of about 2-4 feet with strangers. For Italians, the distance is half. 

So perhaps, Penny grew up with less wariness about closeness.

The Archetype of the Plain Girl

Also acceptable.

The Plain Girl is a common archetype in romances. The archetype has been done well, but I generally find it somewhat tiresome. 

To get the acceptable treatment out of the way, Mary Balogh's First Comes Marriage presents a plain girl as the primary female protagonist. The heroine has been told all her life how plain she is; instead of moping about, she adopts a pleasant and happy attitude. But after her marriage, a few incidents leave her feeling insecure. Finally, her husband says (I'm paraphrasing), "Look, I'm attracted to you. That should be enough. Let it go!" And she does!

Now, for the unacceptable: 

[T]he human race is broadly divided into

angels & trolls...the angels don't always get the

best of it; when [they] fall in love with each

other, they'd better be sure it's not because

they're beautiful people. When my wife and I

fell in love in 1953, we were both pretty ugly

customers. That's how we knew it was real.

1. She doesn't let it go.

One of the admirable aspects of manga is that despite the presence of enormous self-doubt, the resolution--quite often--is for the protagonists to get over it. 

That is, their self-doubt is a problem that others are NOT expected to solve. In Cherry Magic, Adachi's ability to read minds doesn't send him into a state of constant self-affirmation. Rather, it propels him to meet Kurosawa half-way.

Books where the heroine (or hero) is constantly being reassured result in a kind of  perpetual victimhood.

2. The plain heroine is paired with a handsome hunk, and the writer never lets us forget it.

What I dislike about this motif is that the authors don't play fair. There's a double standard at work where the heroine should be accepted for herself (her intrinsic character!) while she and every other character in the book continually comments on the handsomeness of the hunk: ooh, his rock-hard abs. Isn't she lucky that he loves her for her soul while she gets to love him for his body?!

Poor handsome hunk. (I have encountered the opposite--men who honestly seem to believe that they are owed a beautiful female companion because that is what men are wired to want; I generally don't feel bad for the female companions because I think they often know what they are signing up for. But I don't envy them.) 

I prefer romance books, where appearance is a non-issue because (1) the hero and heroine are both plain; (2) because the hero and heroine are both good-looking; (3) because "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" (people have individual and sometimes wacky tastes). In any case (and this applies to real life as well), everybody just shuts up about it and gets on with the plot.

I do find it notable that traditional romances and, for that matter, lesbian romances, fret about the female protagonist's appearance far more than male/male romances. In male/male romances, even if one male is supposedly plain, the issue almost always falls into #3 above. 

The reason is not because the physical has been abstracted. Quite the opposite! Attraction matters. So does sexual compatibility. Returning to the Plain Girl trope, women and attractiveness is a common topic throughout history and in literature. The need to explain (sometimes, defensively) the writer's choices is understandable if unfortunate. 

It does begin to wear. As mentioned above, the male/male romances I read generally solve the problem by physical passion coming down to "that's what I want" (see Ruin of a Rake above). If one wants an explanation for why so many women read the stuff...

Sir Walter Plays the Lothario

Sir Walter at Home; Mrs. Clay is to the left.

In Jane Austen's Persuasion, Mrs. Clay is trying to snare Sir Walter. When that doesn't work, she snares Mr. Elliot.

Penelope Clay's hopes for this engagement have precedence. Gentlemen--members of the gentry and the aristocracy--did occasionally marry "down." There are even cases of peers marrying courtesans, actresses, and servants. Although Pamela's marriage to Mr. B shocked Richardson's contemporaries, it didn't surprise them. It was improbable, not impossible.

Penelope is certainly not as low down the hierarchy as a servant, but she isn't as high up the hierarchy as, even, Elizabeth is to Darcy. Elizabeth argues, correctly, that since both she and Darcy are products of the gentry, there can be no objection to a marriage between them. (Note, however, that she does not argue, "Darcy can marry whomever he wants!")

Like the wife that warmed King David's bed in old age, Penelope Clay's hope (for most of Persuasion and my tribute Persuadable) has been to catch Sir Walter's interest when he is feeling his age or, more specifically, when Sir Walter is feeling abandoned.

It may seem odd that Sir Walter would experience the empty nest syndrome when his eldest daughters are nearing thirty (rather than going through it earlier), but during the Regency era, people stayed home until they married. This interesting trend has begun to reassert itself in recent years ("reassert" since children staying at home until marriage has been more common throughout history than single people living on their own).

With only one single daughter left, Sir Walter will surely wonder who is going to cosset him in his remaining years. Anne and Will Elliot both correctly foresee how Sir Walter's vulnerability might make him susceptible to the suggestion of marriage; this is not a man who manages well on his own.

If he doesn't marry, and Elizabeth does, he will probably try to move in with one of his daughters.Unfortunately, the daughter he understands the least would likely be the most willing. But Captain Wentworth would no doubt put his foot down.

Excerpt from my tribute Persuadable:

[Penelope and Sir Walter meet in the Camden Crescent residence.] 

“Ah, my dear Mrs. Clay,” he said and gave her his roguish look that made him look about as dangerous as a starling. “You’ve heard our latest news, no doubt. My daughter Anne is engaged to Captain Wentworth.”

She joined him at the head of the stairs and coyly tilted her head. “It is difficult to believe that you, Sir Walter, could have any daughter about to be married.”

She conveniently failed to mention Mary, and Sir Walter blustered in a pleased fashion. He took Penelope’s hand and patted it.

“What will I do when I lose Anne’s comforting support?” he said as if he’d ever shown a preference for Anne’s company.

Anne found her own source of comfort, Penelope thought and felt an unexpected surge of jealousy.

She had never desired the middle Elliot daughter’s life with its self-effacement and mildness in the service of others. But she wished now for Anne’s freedom—to be satisfied and respectable and secure. I have such small desires. Can't I have any of them? 

Sir Walter was still patting her hand. He looked genuinely disheartened; Penelope could guess his thoughts. He might have no interest in Anne, but before her engagement she had been available—a spare daughter to look after her father’s needs. Now there was only Elizabeth, and Sir Walter believed firmly in Elizabeth’s ability to marry well.

He was afraid of being alone.

Now’s the time. Penelope should lean in, cover his hand with hers, say, “Oh, Sir Walter, think how much more frightening life is for an unattached woman.”

He would comfort her. She’d put her head on his shoulder. He’d start thinking about his future, about how she could ease his cares.

I’m not a lady, but he’ll convince himself that the merit of his title precludes my lack of one. Sir Walter would put his desire for security above all else.

Doesn’t everybody?

She loosed her hand. She said, “I’m sure your new son-in-law will never place his needs before a father’s.”

She didn’t believe that for a moment. Captain Wentworth was definitely the type to keep his wife by his side. But Sir Walter cheered up and continued on to his bedchamber.

Penelope went to hers, shut the door, and slid to the floor, arms around her knees. From that position, all she could see through the small, square window was blazing blue sky. She might be in any room in any city. She might be in London with Will.

She smiled ruefully. I never thought I’d be such a fool to give up the opportunity to secure a baronet. She knew what happened to women who thought with their hearts.

And yet, Penelope was not like other women. She’d survived a tedious marriage and had two intelligent sons (foisted onto her parents) to show for it. She’d survived interfering neighbors, pushy creditors, and leering landlords. She’d survived Sir Walter and his family.

She could survive anything.

A-Z Romance: Berne & Groundhog Day

Lisa Berne's The Redemption of Philip Thane is...Groundhog Day!

It IS Groundhog Day (even to the point of a runaway carriage ride) The rake, Philip Thane, has been sent to Whittlesey in January by his aunt to give a Plough Day speech, during which he introduces the Straw Bear. He encounters a bright young woman fascinated by folklore. He stays at a local inn. When he tries to leave the next day, a storm sends him back to Whittlesey. When he wakes the next morning, he is back in Plough Day. He goes through confusion, despair, acceptance...and so on. The lovely folklore scholar and he eventually fall in love.

 

The book is well-written. I skimmed most of it.

 

Here's the thing: I don't care that much for the repeat-a-day trope.

 

I don't mind it as a once-a-series episode. Star Trek did it. Stargate did it. And Groundhog Day is a clever and funny movie.

 

I don't find it specifically romantic.

I wondered at first if my issue was the idea of trying to change the past, an idea I philosophically dislike since OCD rehashes, if-onlys, and what-ifs are not even remotely helpful or character-forming. 

 

Quantum Leap doesn't bother me. However, in Quantum Leap, Sam isn't repeating his own life. He is living out other people's lives, and each choice leads to the next. In addition, Al remains a consistent and ongoing part of Sam's life. Sam learns more about Al and himself from episode to episode.

 

Likewise, regarding classic literature, although Scrooge goes back to his past, he doesn't change it. He learns from it and moves forward. 

 

And Back to the Future--where changing the past ends up changing Marty's future--is more about the adventure than about fixing everything. 

 

The problem with the repeat-a-day trope is not necessarily about revisiting the past. The problem with the trope, however fun, is the Love Boat problem.

 

That is, the idea behind repeat-a-day is that the main character undergoes growth or a fundamental shift in character apparently in 24-hours as a result of making constant improvements to the same order of events (rewriting an essay a hundred times until it gets an "A"). 

 

But change needs somewhere to go. I hate to reduce life to the somewhat reductionist idea of being sent to Earth to endure trials, proving whether we are good or bad. Rather, to borrow from C.S. Lewis, 

 

"[A] dangerous world [is] a world in which moral issues really come to the point. [C]ourage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point, which means, at the point of highest reality. A chastity or honesty, or mercy which yields to danger will be chaste or honest or merciful only on conditions. Pilate was merciful till it became risky."

 

In other words, once the couple leaves the "island" (boat), will the relationship retain the qualities that made is so attractive in the first place? (I don't take Love Boat seriously, so I'm okay with that question.)

 

Will Philip Thane remain reformed when faced with options elsewhere? (Will he be able to write ANOTHER essay, using what he has learned?)

 

That is, I like my romantic couples to build on what happened to them an hour before, day before, week before. Will they remain loyal when life DOES change?

 

With my favorite couples, yes: Elizabeth makes mistakes about Darcy and then learns the truth and questions herself. Darcy acts like a jerk and makes assumptions and then reviews his behavior. Jane grows up in fairly miserable circumstances, battens down her passion, and goes to work for Rochester, where she learns more about him. Rochester bumbles around with his life, meets Jane and finds a focus. Jane leaves, stands up to her nutty cousin, and returns.

 

Trajectory.

Again--repeat-a-day is a decent trope. But it doesn't have the romantic power of a person stumbling forward step-by-step and seeing/hoping/testing if each new choice will work in the future.

For those who love Groundhog Day and enjoy the trope, The Redemption of Philip Thane does give insight into the main character's growth.