Continual Adolescence: The Romance Novel That Never Stops Teasing

Many romances, especially romance series, have a group of friends/siblings/associates who form individual relationships while retaining--and expanding--their network.

Imagine if Jane Austen wrote a book for each Bennet sister (as many Janeites have done!), including a book for Lady Catherine's poor hag-ridden daughter and possibly also Charlotte (after her husband's demise) as well as Darcy's cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Or simply imagine Bones, which does a decent job maintaining a small central cast while expanding it with significant others and children and long-lost brothers.

As with small town romances, I quite enjoy these series--

Until they get too tiresomely fulsome to be believed.

There is a sub-genre of these networked series in which the friends/siblings/associates seem to live in a state of perpetual adolescent cuteness. They never stop teasing each other with high school slang ("So-and-so sitting in a tree..." okay, elementary slang). They live in each other's back-pockets. They sit around and complain/brag about each other's significant others. They make high-handed comments about protection: "I'll kick anyone who doesn't totally love ya, bro!"

To be fair, Cathy is partly a spoof of this tone.

It's hard to explain the difference between these series and something like Bones (which has many of the same elements)--but there is a noticeable difference. I think it partly has to do with the absence of independence in the aforementioned series. And partly the lack of discussion about stuff like taxes. And far too much hooting and hollering when people, ohmygosh, kiss.

I ran across this particular tone/atmosphere when I read through Showalter's Lords of the Underworld series (up to Torin's book). At one point, in reaction to this tone, I created fan fiction in my head regarding Strider and Paris. Here was the result:

Not entirely to my surprise, I found that while Strider was fine living in the castle-slash-frat-house that comprised the main characters' abode (complete with married couples and babies because, like dude, they are soooo cute), Paris found it increasingly tiresome. The characters eventually broke "protocol" by heading out to live as humans in a small one-floor house in a college town where Paris (Tom) found a job as a professor of early American history (Strider--Jonas--eventually got a job in security--or accounting, I'm not sure).

At this point in my fan fiction, I had the fates--in the shape of Lucien (Death) and Anya (a manifestation of Eros)--show up and decide that since Paris and Strider have finally exhibited enough maturity to leave the nest, it was time for all the other characters to also leave the nest. Reset: the Lords of the Underworld are now human.

The best high school romances are a little caustic

about the whole romantic thing anyway

Now, granted, my own time period and upbringing is a huge factor here: I'm a product of the era that said, "Graduate AND LEAVE HOME." And, truthfully, that expectation of complete independence in one's twenties is something of a historical anomaly.

But. Still.

There's only so much adolescence a true romantic can endure before the "this couple needs space" adult instinct kicks in. One cannot sit around the equivalent of high school exchanging high fives--"My significant other is, like, sooo awesome, and we are like soooo hot together"--forever.

Caveat Confession: Sometimes, I am in the mood for this stuff--rather like my occasional (very occasional) mood for cotton candy. I have a Collection on my Kindle just for these occasions: "Schmaltz."