Romances Hate Adultery: Esther and Miss Fisher

On Votaries, I discuss characters who change their lives: Ruth and Rahab from the Bible. 

It seemed appropriate to repost about a classic Hollywood Bible romance: Esther.  

The story doesn't really work. 

Not that Hollywood and television hasn't tried. And there are decent versions out there. But Esther as one among many wives doesn't really make for a great romance, even in the polyamorous romance sub-genre. 

Actually, in comparison to its films, which nearly always go the romance route, the book of Esther is more political. The story is likely fiction based loosely on historical events. Let me make clear: There is nothing wrong with this! The Bible contains poetry and drama, lore and proverbs and parables and everything else under the sun.

And the story of Esther is impressive since the person who wrote down the legend/tale knew how to plot!

What makes Esther, the character, stand out is not how much the king loves her but how cleverly she plays the cards at her disposal. She knows she has limited time to make a positive and lasting impression; she uses specific chances and the king's favoritism to bring about political change. 

It's a good story. It likely lasted, in part, because of the soupcon of romance, which is naturally too much for filmmakers to pass up--

Yet therein lies a problem. Viewers don't really like adultery. (See here for why polyamorous relationships are not automatically adulterous.)

When Australia television/ABC presented The Miss Fisher Mysteries, the writers changed Phryne's lover from Lin Chung to Jack Robinson. There are strong plotting reasons for this--an ongoing series needs a police detective to be continually present. And the series doesn't completely dispose of Lin Chung. He shows up in at least one episode.

I suggest another reason for the change: in the books, Lin Chung eventually marries to make his family happy. He truly has no choice; the marriage is a cultural--and for his bride, a survival--necessity. His wife and Phryne become friends. He and Phryne continue as lovers.

To moderns, this blithe acceptance of adultery is hard to take. It is easier to explain in a book where the author can provide social context and lay-out for readers the society in which the characters operate.  

However, the truth is, few contemporary historical regency romances fall back on the "open marriage contract" as a solution, even M/M romances. I suspect that the Fisher scriptwriters were additionally uncomfortable with the possible implications: that Phryne would allow herself to be supposedly degraded by becoming the "other" woman. The book doesn't present her decision in this way. But the perception lingers. Even Wikipedia concentrates on Phryne as open to "free love" rather than the fact that she and Lin Chung are a relatively monogamous couple for a large number of the books--despite Lin Chung having a wife.

As I maintain elsewhere, the desire for the one-and-only is very, very old. The Bible gives us politics in Esther. It reserves romance for the Song of Songs.  

Aquariums in Manga and Live Action BL

It is becoming standard to send characters in manga and live action to aquariums.

It happens with such regulatory in Thai BL, I suspect that a particular aquarium is rather like a house in my grandmother's neighborhood in Pasadena. Though it may have burnt down since, the house was one of the places our family would walk past when we visited in my childhood. Someone was nearly always filming there, usually scenes that were supposed to take place in New England (the house has/had that look) complete with fake snow on the ground.

Interestingly, this use has passed from "hey, the aquarium lets us film on their premises!" to a standard date for BL characters, even in manga. That is, the aquarium date has become a trope, much like amusement rides and haunted houses! In the Japanese BL series, Stay by My Side After the Rain, the characters visit an aquarium for their first date after they meet again (since high school).

There is something quite inviting about fish. And the set-up is perfect for action-while-talking. Sitting in a theater is too static. Dancing is too noisy. The aquarium is perfect!

The below is from one of my favorite short manga stories: "Lover's Pledge" by Kae Maurya. The nervous main character and alpha Darcy-like character get to know each other on "innocent" dates.

Della and Perry as True Equals

 

In the remake of Perry Mason (2020), Della Street is apparently a lesbian. 

The reason I don't know for sure is I never really watched it. I tried to because I quite like Matthew Rhys. But the pilot movie seemed more Bogart than Mason to me, so I gave up. My information here is based on summaries of the show. 

I suspect that having Della Street be a lesbian in the 2020 remake was partly to explain why she and Mason never get together and possibly, also, a tribute to Raymond Burr who was gay and lived with a partner for many years on his ranch. 

But I find the choice somewhat disappointing and the reason has nothing to do with characters being or not being gay. 

The reason is that the unstated romance between Della Street and Perry Mason in the original 1957-1966 show (where they are a kind of low-key version of Mulder and Scully) was WAY ahead of its time. 

Unlike so many of these shows--in which the detective or PI or hero figure rushes around rescuing the poor lil' woman-- Perry treats Della with an impressive degree of "hey, you can handle yourself" respect--even in the later movie where he defends her--and she responds in kind. 

In an Season 6 episode, Della is worried about a friend. She asks Perry how far he would go for a friend; he is emphatic that if he trusted the friend, he would do whatever he could to help. Della then asks Perry for a loan of a substantial amount of money. He pulls out his checkbook without hesitation and gives her what she needs. 

He doesn't try to force her confidence. He doesn't try to fix the situation without her consent (though he later, of course, defends the friend in a trial). He utterly trusts her assessment of the situation. 

The behavior is still impressive if Perry is helping Della, his friend. But Perry helping Della his friend, secretary, and woman-he-feels-romantic-towards, the behavior is...once again...WAY ahead of its time, an exemplar for every kind of couple relationship. 

Extroverted Dogs in Manga

The idea that dogs are extroverts shows up quite often in manga. 

I'm not referring to manga with animal spouses or shapeshifters or beasts as alphas. I read those manga too! 

Rather I'm referring to entirely contemporary manga in contemporary settings with entirely non-magical elements and yet...

Quite abruptly, while reading, one of the characters will gain a wagging tail.  

Like "golf" and "black coffee" the tail is an almost short-hand indicator of personality. 

How extroverted and friendly and people-oriented is this guy or gal? 

Just check out the tail!  

Paperback Romances: Youngson

 As with X, I struggled to come up with a paperback "Y" romance. 

I am therefore reposting a romance from a different A-Z List. The book isn't technically a paperback (I read it in hardcover), but it is a more than respectable romance.

* * *

Meet Me at the Museum is letters between an English farmwife and a Danish museum curator who begin corresponding about the Tollund Man and develop a close and sustaining relationship. I chose it mostly because I wasn't interested in any of the other books on the shelves. 

I was hesitant because I generally don't read epistolary fiction, and I'm not entirely sure why. When I do, I am always engaged. I find the reading fairly effortless. And if it is well-done (which it is here), I come away with a satisfied feeling. 

I think, however, that I harbor the suspicion that letters as fiction is cheating. Not really story. Not complete. Taking the easy way out. Too off-the-cuff. I can't describe my reaction, only I'm wary of the form.

I recommend this epistolary book too!

Such literature can be poorly done: ordinary people who just happen to bring up profound ideas at the drop of a hat. Way too much exposition in cases when people would not explain. Letters that say things like, "I'll tell you the rest of the story in my next letter" (people never do this--not truly), just so the author can create a new chapter. Sudden fulsome descriptions of the protagonists, which again they would never do ("I guess I should describe myself to you"). 

But the truth is, good versions of this form don't do the above. Meet Me at the Museum is written by two fairly well-spoken people who enjoy the act of writing, yet the letters don't feel belabored. They sound like two people talking about whatever comes into their heads without delivering a plethora of names and details that wouldn't matter to anyone. (My mother used to write letters containing completely mysterious details in utterly undecipherable handwriting: Yesterday, I went to the store on Western Ave and bought two screws for the pictures I bought from Leslie for $3.99 each, and I stopped to talk to Mr. Hansen and then dropped by Mrs. Ferguson's. Who? Who, Mom? Who are these people? Why are you telling me about them?). 

It helps that the characters in Meet Me at the Museum are primarily interested in talking about things and ideas. When their families enter the picture, the details are entirely within context. The world behind the letters is a full one, so much so, I imagined some fan fiction in my head for one of the sons.

Most importantly, relying almost entirely on show-don't-tell, the  characterizations of the principle characters in Meet Me at the Museum are impressively clear even though the female writer, Tina, doesn't describe herself  until several letters in (in reference to her daughter and then to another woman). The tone is consistent. And the letters are surprisingly poignant and human. And they bring up history and archaeology, which I always appreciate. 

Despite my lack of warmth towards the form in general, I do recommend the book! 

Shakespeare's Couples: Romeo & Juliet, Part II

Alex Beecroft's M/M Shining in the Sun is a good example of a Romeo & Juliet (or, in this case, Romeo & Romeo) tale working. The main characters, Alec and Darren, come from different social classes. How do they overcome internal and external pressures to part?

Beecroft's answer is for Alec and Darren to acknowledge the stressful differences. When Darren has to meet Alec's well-to-do, Lady Catherine-like mama, he resents being "put on display" as well as the subtle ways in which the mama and the waiters at the fancy restaurant make him feel uncouth. Likewise, when Alec goes to meet Darren's grandmother, he is appalled by the woman's poverty.

The latter scene is fairly brilliant. Darren wants Alec to meet his grandmother; Darren himself has always been impressed by how clean she keeps her tiny house; how hard she works to wear matching slacks and pullovers. Then he sees his grandmother through Alec's eyes. The house is clean but shabby (and lacking in basic amenities). His grandmother's dress is presentable yet threadbare (and Walmart cheap, not haute couture). He resents Alec for this new perspective.

A Juliet and Romeo who seem to 

know what they signed up for.

Both Alec and Darren have to overcome their judgments and resentments in order to move forward. 

Without an acknowledgement of their differences, Romeo & Romeo or Romeo & Juliet or Juliet & Juliet (and so on and so forth) will stall and disintegrate, leaving the reader with the awful instinctual knowledge, "This relationship is doomed--even if nobody dies."

Shakespeare's Couples: When Romeo & Juliet Work, Part I

Despite generations of heart-sick teenagers taking Romeo & Juliet as a blueprint for "success," Shakespeare likely meant it as a cautionary tale--directed more at the parents than the teens.

The Romeo & Juliet trope rests on the premise that two people from opposite sides of the tracks meet and fall in love. Maybe their families are enemies. Maybe one is a liberal and one is a conservative. Maybe one is poor and the other is rich. Maybe one is royalty and the other is an obscure non-royal (Cinderella). Maybe one is a spy or con-artist and the other is the mark.

The tension arises from (1) outside forces stating, "You must not be together." And (2) inner forces stating, "I don't really get you."

Sometimes the tensions are resolved in accordance with the tale's most celebrated example: lots of death. Sometimes it ends with sacrifice and acceptance (Casablanca). Sometimes it ends with an utter lack of realism. And sometimes, if handled correctly, it ends with a sweet, romantic resolution.

The first two are not the focus of this post (despite Casablanca being a great movie). The focus is the last two: what separates the positive romantic unbelievable ending from the positive romantic believable ending.

The difference lies in acknowledgement of the accompanying problems.

In Frasier, Niles meets Daphne's lay-about

brothers and still wants to marry her.

Unrealistic Romeo & Juliet tales focus only on (1) the external forces rather than accepting that (2) internal qualms will have impact.

Internal qualms count because people cannot be magically stripped of their familial/cultural/monetary expectations. There is a reason that most people do, in fact, marry within their "class" (even in America). One reason Austen is so popular even now is that she verbalizes issues that have become taboo in our own culture (every culture has, as Tom Wolfe argued, its own Victorian Gent).

Truth: money and background impact relationships.

Elizabeth can argue fiercely with Lady Catherine de Bourgh that she equates to Darcy since she is a gentleman's daughter. Yet Austen never allows any of her heroines to contemplate marrying a farmhand or a minor clerk in an office. Love conquers all within a specific social milieu.

Austen was not being naive or prejudiced; she was being realistic. Money, where people want to live, how people want to live, their friends, their families, their social settings: all these things are factors in a relationship. To pretend they are not is to leave the door open for worse problems.

Austen perfectly encapsulates these "worse problems" in Sense & Sensibility. At the end of the book, Willoughby--who married for money--regrets that he didn't marry for love. Elinor wisely reflects that if Willoughby had married her sister, he would have ended up resenting their mutual poverty.

So how does a Romeo & Juliet tale end without the couple, in the long run, hating each other's guts because "you estranged me from my family...you buried me in poverty...you forced me to live in a horrible city/country/town...you prevented me from accomplishing what I could have accomplished..."?

Romeo & Juliet Part II