The Couples in Brat Farrar

One of my mother's favorite books is Brat Farrar by Josephine Tey, a non-Detective Grant book. It has to do with a double identity. Brat pretends to be a young man who disappeared over a decade earlier. He comes to realize that the young pre-teen was likely murdered. 

The BBC television movie, which I've only been able to find online, is a decent version. The story involves twins, and Mark Greenstreet plays Brat and his supposed twin, Simon. 

*Spoilers* 

The one place the movie falters is at the end. In the movie, Brat ends up with the supposed sister who is really his distant cousin. Movie Brat also comes across as far more aggressive and confident than his book self. 

In the book, Brat is far more like the dead boy, Patrick. After a lifetime surviving alone, he is self-contained and wary. He is also fundamentally moral and sensitive and pursues the mystery to a dangerous end. He also, like everyone else in the family, adores horses. He finds his strident, overly confident cousin (who originally thought she was his sister) attractive--but not ultimately what he wants. 

At the end, Aunt Bee offers to have him come and work for her: 

His eyes came away from the ceiling, and watched her. She saw his fingers being to play with the sheet, unhappily. 

"Are you going away to Ulster, then?" he asked. 

"Only if you will come with me, and run the stable for me."

 The easy tears of the newly-convalescent rose in his eyes and ran down his cheek. 

"Oh, Bee!" he said. 

"I take it means that my offer is accepted," she said. 

Tey does not indicate whether the relationship is a romance, friendship, partnership, or all the foregoing. Aunt Bee is the age she is portrayed in the movie where she is played perfectly by Angela Browne. Older than Brat by about a decade, they fall well within the range for a possible match. And easy comradeship is plausible, no matter what the relationship's label. It's a wonderful ending, and the ending I would have rooted for with the movie.  

Lack of Romance in Carroll's Alice

I recently posted about the Alice books on Votaries. 

I'm not one who believes that Lewis Carroll was a pedophile hankering after the eleven-year-old, Alice Liddell (though by Victorian-Ruskin standards, such hankering was somewhat accepted; not that Ruskin is the best role model). 

From a literary perspective, the important point here is that no romance exists in the Alice books in the modern sense of "romances." Carroll draws on images of chivalry for various scenes but only as tropes. So there is also little "romance" in the medieval sense either: romance as great deeds carried out by honorable figures who save others.

The White Knight makes an appearance and is quite kindly. But his encounter with the Red Knight is reminiscent of T.H. White's jousters who behave with such a lack of panache or competence, the Wart gets worried for them. 

The most "romantic"--in the older sense of the word--event occurs when Alice meets the fawn. There is a quiet pathos to the scene that exists in older tales: Dante provides quiet moments between and Dante and Virgil meeting sinners and saints, monsters and beings of tremendous (if exhausting) majesty. 

I'm not entirely opposed to the mundane, precisely because high romance can get so exhausting. But I prefer my romance (both definitions) and my mundane to overlap more. 

On Votaries, I talk about how my father liked the books. He had a penchant for shaggy dog stories as well as nonsense and puns. The Alice books fall into that English tradition sooner than they fall into the romance tradition. 

What Makes This Manga Different: Ripples

A number of manga start with a relationship already established. It is one of the things I like about slice-of-life romance manga as compared to revolving-door romances, in which the couple are together; apart; fighting; making-up; getting jealous; breaking-up...blah blah blah. 

Ripples in the River by Zeniko Sumiya is a great example of non-revolving door fiction, not only because it starts with the relationship already established (readers are later provided with the couple's background) but because (1) the couple are quite distinct in personality and interests;

(2) each man changes slowly over time--Utagawa, for instance, is far more confident as his older self; 

(3) the established pattern of intimacy is a bit outside the usual pattern in manga; 

(4) the couple are situated within family and social settings (which is more typical of Japanese manga in general); 

(5) the slice-of-life events are legitimately funny. 

One example is Utagawa's scary drawings, so scary that Tamba has him draw one on his bicycle as theft-prevention. (Personally, I like the roasted pig!) Another is the young man who likes Utagawa's grown sister--he imagines all kinds of scenarios in which Tamba is dating Utagawa's sister...until he sees Utagawa and Tamba together walking home. 

Crabtree's Ladies: Very Good Writing

Crabtree--proud of Nina Bloom

One of the more tiresome aspects of romances is the triangle. At the end of one manga, the mangaka writes, "I don't like romantic rival story lines." She goes on to explain how she fitted in a new character without making that character a rival. 

I agree! I detest the tension of a competitive ex-lover. 

I'm also not terribly fond of romances that rest on the premise that a couple can only break up because someone cheats. 

Crabtree from Murdoch Mysteries has had multiple girlfriends over the years. The impressive thing about these girlfriends is (1) with one understandable exception, they are consistent personality types: Crabtree likes brassy working women with lots of ideas! (2) the relationships are all fairly decent; they fail most often because of different long-term goals; (3) Crabtree remains friends with the women in the long-run. 

He and Dr. Emily Grace come the closest to breaking up over the third-party. But in truth, the issue is more lack of decent communication. And once the breakup occurs, neither of them can really go back. Later, regarding Lillian Moss's death, Crabtree is able to comfort Emily. 

The one relationship which, thankfully (well, aside from than the murder) didn't work out was his relationship with the mom who had an abusive husband. The relationship is believable--Crabtree is motivated by chivalry to reach out to a woman who is pretty obviously not his type. So the relationship is entirely organic while still being a mistake for the characters. 

Crabtree, of course, eventually marries the wonderful Effie Newsom, who is brassy and hardworking and right on his wavelength.  

Shakespeare's Couples: Valentine and Proteus and Everybody Else

Two Gentlemen of Verona is considered Shakespeare's first play, which supposedly explains why nobody's behavior makes much sense. 

Proteus drops the girl he supposedly loves, betrays his friend, threatens to seduce his friend's woman, and...he's not the villain. Huh?

The BBC version attempts to pull off the plot by making Proteus very young and confused. The Chinese silent film A Spray of Plum Blossoms suggests that Proteus (Bai) was not ready to commit to Julia (Zhilu), making his pursuit of Silvia (Luohua) the final act of a desperate playboy.

Still--the play has not been performed or filmed as often as other plays by Shakespeare.

I think the romantic triangle is exactly the mark of an inexperienced writer. Like killing off a character, the romantic triangle is an easy way to achieve conflict/find stuff to write about. I think writers like triangles (and dead characters) more than audiences do. 

Trolius & Cressida (specifically, the lovers' parts) seems to suffer from the same problem, though it comes near the end of Shakespeare's career. Young, inexperienced writers and aging, exhausted writers might have a great deal in common.

Luckily, we have plays such as Comedy of Errors that show what Shakespeare could really do when he spoofed himself.

Likewise, the best part of BBC's Two Gentleman is not the lovers but the Duke of Milan played by Paul Daneman. He has the ability that look entirely nonplussed by Proteus and Valentine, which possibly sums up the writer's own reactions. 

Why Amy & Sheldon Are Such a Good Couple

Here's your cat. Here's your $20.

I had my doubts about Amy and Sheldon at first--then, I became entirely invested. 

I consider all the Big Bang Theory couples fairly strong--but not for the same reasons.

Amy and Sheldon are so fantastic because they remind me of manga couples. They are slow-burn but not the type of slow-burn one sees on Hallmark and many sitcoms where the couple seem stuck on a circular reasoning hamster wheel: together, apart, close, not quite there, together, apart.  

Amy and Sheldon, however, continually move forward. Like with manga couples, the slow-burn isn't an excuse to keep the audience in suspense. The slow-burn is a way for the couple to figure out what a relationship is all about. 

Amy and Sheldon figure out what it means to compromise over careers. They learn what it means to apologize. They learn how to break up and be friends and get back together. They learn they ARE friends (not simply each other's last resort). They learn how to share interests and support each other's interests (Fun with Flags! Little House on the Prairie! Professor Proton's show!). They even learn how to be intimate. 

The attraction for viewers is that every human, no amount how sophisticated, finds relationships as confusing and complicated as do Amy and Sheldon. Like manga couples, Amy & Sheldon put into words and actions what the rest of us find so confounding.

A great deal of this "putting into words" is helped by Amy (Mayim Bailik) matching Sheldon in terms of desired intimacy (mostly matching) and also, remarkably enough, by Jim Parsons being able to convey Sheldon's enlightened yet old-fashioned Texas boy chivalry. At heart, he is a guy who knows that he is supposed to woo and admire his lady.    

 

A-Z Golden Age Detective Couples: A is for Alleyn & Troy

I recently finished the A-Z list of paperback romances. 

My next A-Z list for this particular blog is Golden Age Detective Fiction Couples. 

Golden Age mysteries (1920s-1950s) produced one of my favorite mixed genres: Romance and Mystery. That combo pack is still thriving today: Castle, Bones, Forever, Miss Fisher. 

Golden Age mysteries not only produced memorable primary couples, the classic plot required--possibly from the publishers--a "sweet young couple" who are usually saved or helped or otherwise brought together during the main action. 

This list will address those couples, starting with A for Alleyn and Troy, a primary couple. 

Alleyn is an interesting example of a detective I like even though his author used him in ways that annoy me. His wife, artist Agatha Troy, is one of Marsh's best delineated characters. She comes across as a consistent personality--diffident, reserved, observant, careful, gently wry--and the marriage comes across in a positive light. As is customary for couples in such series, she and Alleyn are involved in several mysteries together, from Artists in Crime to Final Curtain and Clutch of Constables.

Generally, however, Troy is not a fellow sleuth but an artist. Alleyn is a professional and although, like many British detectives, he gets a tad angsty, most of the time, he treats what he does as a job. Troy's avocation is treated similarly--her artist background does involve her in certain situations but always within the confines of that job.  

(I think the BBC television series does a decent job. Patrick Malahide gives Alleyn slightly more whimsy. Belinda Lang is perfect as Troy. In the series, she has long hair. In the books, she has short, cropped hair. I got a picture of Belinda Lang with shorter hair.

Sidenote: In the lovely world of coincidence, Hugh Fraser--Hastings of the long-running Poirot series and an excellent narrator of many audiobooks--is married to Belinda Lang, who is currently a comedic superstar on Sister Boniface Mysteries. A true Golden Age couple!)