Conveniently, the dead always seem to want exactly what the living character wants.
This type of resolution is far too common in romances, which run the risk of both sacralizing and debasing the dead ("Dead Bob was never as wonderful as you [the current lover]!"). After all, it's not like the dead can fight back.
Redesigning Landry Bishop by Kim Fielding bravely attempts to tackle the tension between perfecting the dead and blaming the dead. It doesn't quite manage (it does come very close).
Before I continue, I should mention that I'm a fan of Kim Fielding. Her book Love is Heartless is one of my all time favorites as is A Full Plate and The Little Library. She is also one of the best romance short story writers on the market (romance short stories are terrifically difficult to write).
Regarding this particular book . . .
Landry came to Hollywood as a young, innocent 20ish-year-old. It is entirely likely that he never intended or wanted to be a celebrity. Rather, he always wanted to be the party planner who works for celebrities. But he fell for an older, high society lawyer Steve, who pushed him to recognize his ambitions by becoming a "brand."
There's no sugar-daddy construction to the relationship. Steve was a decent, ambitious guy. Landry was ambitious enough. And a hard-worker. He earned his name. And they honestly loved each other.
However, now that Steve is dead, Landry is rethinking his life and his goals.
Or is he? Is Landry truly "finding" himself or simply reflecting back the opinions and viewpoints and life-path of a new, domineering lover (and Landry's not new hometown)?
In fact, Landry rather resembles the empath on Star Trek: Next Generation, who becomes whatever kind of woman the man nearest her wants. She likes who she is when she is around Picard, so she secretly bonds with him. She has the wit to fool the man she ends up marrying into thinking she has bonded with him instead.So Landry bonds with the people who want the best for him, but what does Landry himself want?
To answer that question, I'm afraid Fielding would have had to go more directly at the dead-Steve-issue. She does a fantastic job setting it up but there's never a candid internal pay-off.
And therein lies the tension and the point of this post's title: I'm not sure that in current American/Western society, internal pay-offs re: the dead are allowed. We're all still Queen Victoria at heart, mourning the dead forever (when, in fact, research shows that people recover from the death of a loved one far sooner than the hype and the self-help industry wish us to believe).
For example, the internal pay-offs would include Landry pondering stuff like:
- "Steve was a great guy, but were we really suited?"
- "Am I being disloyal to decide that actually he headed me in the wrong direction--without me blaming him at all? After all, I'm responsible for my life."
- "If he were still alive, would we have lasted? If I changed the way I want to change now, would he have stuck around?"
It would be even more fascinating (but difficult and not entirely acceptable) if Landry came to realize, in answer to the last question, "I actually have no idea. I can't speak for the dead. I'm not going to get any closure on this issue. Maybe Steve and I wouldn't have lasted. Who knows!"Again, I have to give Fielding kudos. So many romance writers do try to speak for the dead. I'm not referring to the ones who write paranormal romances where the dead, um, literally speak; I'm referring, rather, to the ones who imagine that Stevie would be all kinds of happy for Landry doing the opposite of what he wanted Landry to do when he was alive.
It is to Fielding's credit that she doesn't propose any particular desires on dead-Steve's part. I just wish she could have taken the argument one step further and have Landry reflect on what he truly, actually, honestly wants without reference to other people's input or versions of his life.Unless, of course, Landry is the empath, and he likes new-lover Jordan's version of his life better than dead-Steve's version of his life--but that would still be "dissing" the dead. Landry might actually have to think, "Maybe I go for the strongest personality in the room--nothing wrong with that--but it certainly didn't make Steve and me soulmates."
As Accidental Tourist proposes, "I'm beginning to think that maybe it's not just how much you love someone. Maybe what matters is who you are when you're with them."
In fairness, Fielding is tackling a Hollywood romance, which is troublesome all by itself.
