Bromance: Vienna Blood

A bromance is a male/male relationship that is as close a friendship as a relationship can get without it being a marriage. 

Some bromances definitely have a sexual component. Marcus and Esca in The Eagle could be sleeping together; it wouldn't change the plot much. Holmes & Watson are not sleeping together but most versions (television and movies) at minimum comment on the possibility. Some bromances, such as Chandler and Joey, don't sleep together but in another universe... 

And some bromances don't have a sexual component yet the relationship is intimate, if not through touch than though knowledge of each other. 

Oskar and Max from Vienna Blood are one such couple. The closeness-without-sex works because (1) both men have their own professions (not just their own girlfriends); (2) both men are amused by each other's foibles; (3) both men appreciate the other's perspective; (4) both men confide in each other, which for the time period (and the time period is taken into consideration) leaps a gap in age, profession, class, and blood.

That is, they operate in different spheres that overlap. Their lives are Venn diagrams. Yet they also absolutely trust each other as Season 4 indicates when Oskar trusts Max with political secrets. 

I like bromances of all kinds. I appreciate when the writing can produce a bromance that relies on difference, even separation, to make it work. 

Shakespeare's Couples: Everybody in Hamlet is Dysfunctional

The only thing that keeps Hamlet's relationships from being totally annoying is that Shakespeare appears to have been perfectly aware that all the relationships are horrible. 

Hamlet doesn't trust Cordelia. She is weak and lets others push her around. Even Branagh's addition of sex didn't give that relationship more substance. And that's mostly the point. Hamlet is playing a game. Cordelia is a pawn. There's nothing there because there never really was anything there. 

Gertrude's relationship with Claudius is interesting but it is also a relationship that rests on enormous self-deception. And Updike's version didn't improve it. 

On the male/male front, there is Hamlet and Horatio, but Horatio disappears for most of the play, only showing up to deliver a stellar final line. Nicholas Farrell's Horatio is fantastic, but also gives the impression of carrying on a somewhat one-sided fascination with his prince.

I think the play is a good one, but it is the story of entirely dysfunctional people who can't hold onto anything real and consistent for more than 2 seconds. There's a deep cynicism about it which all the profundity can't allay.

There have been several plays/books about minor characters--the actors who show up at the castle, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern--and those minor characters often end up...not completely miserable. (At the end of Stoppard's play, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern aren't dead yet!) And from that perspective, a romance might be possible. To go traditional, one of the players and the gravedigger's sister (I'm inferring a sister). To go male/male, Fortinbras and, say, Horatio. 

Nobody else stands a chance. 

Perhaps, Hamlet was Shakespeare's answer to Greek tragedy. 

More Heyer Fanfiction: Aubrey & Oswald

Oswald behaves rather like Scott Baio

on Love Boat, who acts like Igor

when embarrassed.

As I mention elsewhere, I find it easiest to create Heyer fan-fiction if I keep the rules of a social order in mind. I also find it easier if I try to stick to the rules/plot of the original text. 

With Venetia, I kept Venetia and Dameral, one of my favorite couples in Heyer's fiction, as they are.

For a male/male relationship, I turned instead to Oswald. Oswald is one of Heyer's most delightful characters. A young man from a neighboring estate to Venetia and Aubrey's, he has convinced himself that he is some kind of Bryonic hero and pursues Venetia in that way...until a true Bryonic male, Dameral, shows up in the area. Oswald immediately recognizes that in terms of broodiness and a dark past, he is seriously out-classed, mostly because he has the most prosaic, ordinary, non-dark past of any male of Venetia's acquaintance. 

Edward Yardley, the pompous guy who also pursues Venetia, tries to scold Oswald. But Venetia is more understanding.

In my fan-fiction, Oswald is actually interested in caustic, scholarly Aubrey, Venetia's brother However, Oswald's family's estate is one of the few that has passed through a bloodline (rather than through adoption). He pursues Venetia, and does so badly, because he is doesn't know what else to do. When his parents decide he is making a pest of himself and send him away, he goes to see Aubrey and confesses his feelings. 

Aubrey is too self-protective to take Oswald seriously since he knows what Oswald's parents expect from him.

However, when Venetia marries Dameral, Edward ends up marrying one of Oswald's sisters. It turns out, Oswald's genial father doesn't much like Edward either. Oswald's father would rather work with rakish Damerel and competent, straight-forward Venetia than condescending Edward. If Aubrey and Oswald marry, then Venetia can stand as "doyenne" to the estate, and one of her and Damerel's clever sons could inherit after Oswald. 

Consequently, the estate passes from a bloodline inheritance to an adoption inheritance. 

Estate matters settled, Oswald goes to Greece to find Aubrey, who is carrying out his beloved research. After they marry, they spend 1/2 a year in Undershaw and 1/2 a year abroad. 

What amuses me about my solution is that in Heyer's Venetia, Venetia and Dameral do in fact remain well-liked by the locals, despite Edward's tut-tutting. My solution takes advantage of the book's wrap-up.

The Logical Lover: Seiichirou Kondou

On Votaries, I discuss the the accountant detective, a nice variation in mystery shows. 

Seiichirou Kondou from The Other World's Books Depend on the Bean Counter is a prime example and gets a mention in the Votaries' post. 

From a romance point of view, Kondou is so enchanting because throughout the series (manga and light novels), he retains the characteristics of a somewhat uptight workaholic with a gut sense of money matters being "off," a gut sense he then backs up through research and detailed paperwork. He continually makes logical appraisals of what will actually save the country money, as opposed to what certain nobles and leaders want for self-aggrandizing and sentimental reasons. 

What is even more amusing is that his lover, Aresh, uses his logic against him! 

So in several scenes, Aresh argues, "Yes, but what I want (that you live with me, get more rest, eat the foods I provide) will make you more efficient."

I love the chibi associated with Kondou. He knows Aresh is right. He can't argue, "I don't want to be efficient." He is irritated all the same!

In the end, Kondou is a great defense of the position maintained on this blog: The best romances keep people who they are. 

A-Z Romances: Ives, The Competition Plot & Mild Disagreement with Literature Devil

Averil Ives is one of those romance authors with a dozen names. I naturally chose the one that fit my list.

The book was Island in the Dawn, a Harlequin that I had to purchase through AbeBooks. It uses the type of plot that led Literature Devil to state that in romances, women identify with an (ordinary) woman who beats out competitors to get a suitor. 

In other words, the plot of Rebecca, which parts of Island in the Dawn quite closely resemble. Like in Rebecca, the main character is young and lovely but not gorgeous and sexy (not a siren). She is criticized by a female "boss" (unlike in Rebecca, the female "boss" of Island is beautiful and young, rather than the older, caustic Mrs. Van Hopper). Like in Rebecca, the hero is slim and handsome and remote and somewhat damaged (quite literally in Island since he nearly lost his eyes). He also has a very nice house. Like in Rebecca, the friendly, gentle, unsophisticated main character has to compete with a dead fiancee/wife who was unfaithful to the hero (though this part of the plot seems rather tacked on with Island). 

The main character has a name, Felicity, unlike in Rebecca. Nothing burns down (though there is a hurricane). And there's no Mrs Danvers. 

In addition, the main character is--as Literature Devil suggests--the "winner" in the relationship sweeps. In comparison, as I point out in a separate post, with Rebecca's ending, it is not entirely certain if the narrator 's marriage to Maxim was the best choice. She probably would have done better marrying someone else. 

Here, however, I want to take issue with Literature Devil's suggestion that women read such books because they are primarily interested in "partner selection." When I first watched the related video--Woke American Comics vs. Manga--with which I largely agree, I was irritated that Literature Devil hadn't chosen better examples of romance, such as, oh, just for instance, Jane Eyre, Pamela, works by Shakespeare, Jane Austen, Eloisa James, Julia Quinn, Lisa Kleypas, and Georgette Heyer...

There is far too much romance out there to suggest that the plot of "mate selection"--in which a woman is pursued by several suitors due to her being more inherently special than all other contenders--is the common thread in romance. 

I suggest the common thread is more universal and human. That is, though men and women largely (statistically) differ over what they read and watch, in the Venn diagram of life, the thread in romance (like in action) is something that men and women have in common. Genre is about focus. Otherwise, storytelling elements and human character don't change that much.  

The commonality here is not beating out others. The commonality is having someone take one's side. In Jane Eyre, sure, Jane Eyre is temporarily out-shined by Blanche Ingram, but Blanche Ingram was never a true competitor (not like the dead wife in Rebecca). And Jane Eyre, though uncomfortable in those scenes, never takes her seriously. She also utterly undermines Rochester's attempt to get her to speak to him in front of others by leaving to go see her dying aunt. 

In fact, Jane Eyre is a fascinating example because the person who truly wants to "win" is Rochester, and he wants to win by being recognized, seen, defended. 

Some women enjoy "beating out others" romances, just like some men enjoy revenge plots. But many, many, many women enjoy romances in which the plot circles around the couple sparring, getting to know each other, and having each other's backs. I personally can't stand mystery books where the main female character struggles over which of two men to pick for about 15 volumes (hey, pick them both!). I far prefer the hilarious manga Otomen by Aya Kanno and Cat Sebastian's You Should Be So Lucky, in which the choices are pretty much already a given and the couple work together towards some desired or necessary goal. It's very human.

In sum...

McClane-Powell is a variation on Darcy-Elizabeth. Having someone have your back is something that both men and women totally "get."

Hence, both single and married men and single and married women enjoy Forever, Bones, Castle, animated Beauty & the Beast, and Miyazaki's works. 

In the end, I agree that ultimately, "It isn't the gender people connect with. It's the character," as Literature Devil proposes.

The Laid-Back Detective

On Votaries, I discuss characters from books by "G" authors.

One of those "G" authors is Dorothy Gilman, who wrote the Mrs. Pollifax books, A Nun in the Closet, and The Clairvoyant Countess, one of my favorites.

The Clairvoyant Countess is one of my favorites in part due to Lieutenant Pruden. Lieutenant Pruden is one of those laid-back heroes. In fact, he is quite a bit like Loid from Spy X Family. He is quiet, skeptical, straight-laced but willing to go outside the lines (consult with a clairvoyant). A tad like Hotchner from Criminal Minds but not quite so uptight. For most of my teen years, I was half in love with Pruden.

When I wrote Aubrey, my character Charles Stowe was inspired by Pruden and another Charles: Charles Parker from Sayers' Wimsey detective novels. 

I've covered the attraction of the laid-back hero in a number of posts (see below). Here, I will state that another attraction is the underlying skepticism. Pruden, Parker, and Charles Stowe are open to evidence. They don't make up stories about people and impose them. They go where the clues take them. Their inherent skepticism comes from knowing that where the clues take them might change. They are prepared for their initial reckonings to be wrong. 

For all their by-the-book attitudes, they are actually quite adaptable.

Other Laid-Back Heroes

• More about Loid
• Justin from Secret of Nimh
• Karasuma from Assassination Vacation (with a tribute to Arthur from Inception)
• Yuri from Yuri on Ice!
• Itami from Gate
• Sam Gillespie from Sister Boniface 
• Lieutenant Tao from The Closer and Major Crimes 
• Saitama from One Punch Man
  

Shakespeare's Jealous Couples: Imogen & Posthumus and Others

First of all, Cymbeline is a strange play. 

It is credited to Shakespeare, but it comes across as a kind of spoof play using bits and pieces of Shakespeare from Othello, The Tempest, Romeo & Juliet. Except it ends positively--with pure schmaltzy moralizing--not tragically.

It reads like Stargate having fun with its own tropes, except it is supposed to be serious. So more like a Hollywood production that is trying to capitalize on the latest trends by throwing them all into the screenplay and then demanding that the Oscars treat the result as an intellectual triumph.

Or something. None of the oddities are helped by people continually running off to Milford Haven in Wales (I'm serious). The whole thing sounds like a Greek tragedy set in Swansea or Staten Island. 

The biggest reason to doubt that Shakespeare was taking himself even remotely seriously is the cause of jealousy between the primary couple. It is one of those cases where the Iago figure, Iachimo, persuades the dopey husband that because he has a particular belonging from the wife, she must be guilty of adultery. The dopey husband immediately believes Iachimo--who isn't motivated by anything more than being Italian and something of a playboy (again, I'm serious)--and complications ensue. (The play also includes kidnapped brothers grown to manhood living in the wilderness--Wales--and Roman senators wandering around Briton trying to get tribute and an evil stepmother and an evil prince and...I'M SERIOUS.)

Consider the differences between Imogen/Posthumus and Claudio/Hero from Much Ado About Nothing, not to forget the classic jealous husband/innocent wife: Othello/Desdemona. 

Claudio believes Hero is faithless based on what he sees. His reaction is completely over the top and not all versions keep the couple together at the end. However, Shakespeare is fully aware of Claudio's overreaction. It motivates Benedict to challenge Claudio at the instigation of Beatrice, who is justifiably outraged by the humiliation of her cousin. It also underscores Shakespeare's theme, that words are more reliable than "seeing." 

"Here's our own hands against our hearts," Benedict proclaims at the end. 

In Othello, the behavior of all characters, while not entirely explicable, is grounded in personality. In part, Othello is worked on by Iago, who is jealous of the world and wants to tear others down (Iago is a pre-social media "troll"). In part, Othello is susceptible due to his own mindset.

Sarah Caudwell's Thus Was Adonis Murdered delivers an excellent explanation of Othello. Cantrip, who was forced to see a stage play version of the play, is speaking:

I said afterwards I thought it was pretty silly, because the Othello chap's meant to have done frightfully well in the army and be a wiz at strategy and all that. And in that case, he wouldn't be the sort of twit who thought his wife was having it off with someone else just because she lost her handkerchief. And Julia didn't agree. Well, what she was actually said was that I was a semi-educated flibbertigibbet whose powers of dramatic appreciation would be strained to the utmost by a Punch and Judy show....You see, the way Julia saw it was that a chap who'd spent all his life in the army was just the sort of chap to get a bee in his bonnet about pure womanhood and so on, because he wouldn't get the chance to find out that women were more or less like anyone else and he'd start getting all idealistic about them. So as soon as he found out that Desdemona wasn't perfect--I mean, the first time she spilt coffee or dropped cigarette ash on the carpet--he'd start feeling all disillusioned and thinking she'd betrayed his ideals. And after that, making him believe she was having it off with some other chap would be absolute child's play.

The meat of what Cantrip states is in Shakespeare's script.

In Cymbeline, there's little character development and little thematic development. Posthumous gets jealous on cue. Feels bad on cue. Iachimo behaves badly on cue. Repents on cue. Things happen because the script says so. 

I can't help but wonder if Shakespeare was badgered by his shareholders into writing a play and said, "Fine! You want a play?! Here's all my ideas in a single script--I'll trot them out one after another."

Or, since Shakespeare wasn't adverse to making money, he said, "Sure! Let's trot out all my best ideas and make a bundle!"

 Or maybe Shakespeare was getting meta: