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! 

X is for Xie Lian's Series: Couples Who Solve Supernatural Problems

X authors are not the easiest to find, even if one goes beyond American & English authors. 

Mo Xiang Tong Xiu is a great exception! 

So far I have read Heaven's Official Blessing, Vol. 1 and started Vol. 2. The reading is slow--the novels belong to "world fantasy," which, like "world romance," involves EVERYTHING that is going on around the characters. But the denouements are always quite gripping.

The series belongs to a romance/sci-fi/fantasy sub-genre: a couple investigate supernatural happenings. Basically, X-Files. Priest's Guardian series falls into the same category as does the Onmoyoji & Tengu Eyes series. 

I quite like these series overall though they can cross a line into nihilism. I always considered Death Note to be about 1000 times more interesting while Light was still alive than after Light died. That is, part of the draw of these books--whether romantic or non-romantic--is the push & pull, the banter, the constant readjustments between the two main characters. Working together to solve a problem IS the underlying structure.  

Heaven's Official Blessing is a decent addition since the personalities are complementary. In addition, though San Lang seems confident and powerful, a dominant partner, he has his own uncertainties and weaknesses. The characters balance each other. 

 

V is for Vivacious Voigt and a Vital Romantic Hero

Cynthia Voigt's paperbacks are usually teen novels. However, she wrote an adult novel Glass Mountain which is a modern (for the time, 1990s) screwball comedy in the Cary Grant and Clark Gable (It Happened One Night) tradition. 

In fact, the protagonist, Gregor, is, as Castle would say, "ruggedly handsome" rather than strictly good-looking. 

The book is delightful! It is the story of a butler/valet who is trying to land himself a rich wife. He is a romantic who falls in love but thinks he is trying to work the system. 

Voigt relies almost entirely on show-not-tell to make clear to us that whatever Gregor may believe about himself, or say about himself, he is a good guy and worth investing in:

1. Like Darcy with Elizabeth, he is attracted to Alexis from the beginning. 

He doesn't believe she is beautiful. He does acknowledge that she dresses wrongly for her "Renaissance" look. But he is aware of her and not entirely indifferent from Day 1. His attraction grows. 

2. He is bowled over by her intelligence, understated wit, and interests from Day 1. 

3. His "plan" does not involve him inviting women to outings he doesn't enjoy himself. 

He and Alexis share interests if not taste. 

4. He is old enough, 33, to not mistake titillation for actually interesting things.

His boss, Theo, is another great writing example of show-not-tell. He isn't horrible or bad (and the book ends quite nicely with him back in the arms of a woman who possibly truly cares for him); he is, however, as shallow as ditch-water. 

Gregor's exact motivations for his deliberate plan (to marry any rich woman) are never entirely defined (other than that he is more romantic than he realizes): revenge at a particular class, disillusionment, cynicism, despair? 

He does see some of himself in Theo. But he is being unfair to himself. Theo quite definitely mistakes titillation for "coolness," like a boy who, maturity-wise, has never grown beyond high school. (As one point, Gregor marvels at the women Theo is able to attract, but Theo has a kind of random generosity that makes him whatever the women want him to be: Gregor is more complicated, and Alexis will more than be able to handle him!) 

5. He honestly respects women. 

He is kind to Theo's mother, waiting for her to finish her sentences. He is careful, almost from the beginning, with Alexis because he quickly surmises that she can run rings around him and only doesn't because she is diffident and doubtful of her own powers. He doesn't use her weaknesses--such her apologies--against her. 

Whatever Gregor believes about himself, the reader finds him worth investing in--and Alexis is delightful. 

For a reformed bad boy...or maybe a reformed Darcy...or maybe a reformed Rochester...Gregor is a more than decent addition!  

Uki Ogasawara's Black Sun

I am reviewing romance "paperbacks"--that is, romance books that do not fall into the "acceptably literary" tradition. 

I love Austen and Heyer and Bronte. 

But I also love romances that don't necessarily fall into the category of so-called Great Literature.

I've reached "U" authors, and I admit to being somewhat stymied. Not many "U" authors at all, let alone in romance! 

I gave myself permission to go with first names as well as last names and to go to manga (which generally speaking, I have been reviewing separately). 

Black Sun by Uki Ogasawara is one of my favorite yaoi manga. One reason is that the characters have distinct personalities and retain those personalities through the 2 volumes. (One problem I note with romance is when characters become instantly "cute"--and follow a script--the moment they fall in love.) 

Below is character analysis from one of my earliest posts on this blog:

Jamal and Leonard's seemingly unlikely compatibility in Black Sun is highlighted by their easy physical "banter."

Character development plays a role here. Despite his spiritual and idealistic nature, Leonard is more than capable of keeping up with Jamal physically. Leonard may have a sweet and ethereal disposition; his desire for touch, for affection, has been a fundamental aspect of his personality from childhood. 

Jamal's larger-than-life persona at first evokes hero-worship from Leonard. But Jamal doesn't want to be set on a pedestal (it's so boring). He provides Leonard with a down-to-earth reality that Leonard never anticipated and finds incredibly restful.

At the end of Black Sun, Leonard still retains his quiet, Gilly-like nature. But he has learned to gently and cleverly tease Jamal back.  

A-Z Romance Paperbacks: Therin and the 1920s

I complain in several places of the non-historicity of historical romances. The characters behave and talk like moderns. They have modern expectations. They scold each other for violating modern norms. 

It's highly irritating. 

Allie Therin's series Magic in Manhattan (and Roaring Twenties Magic) is a great example of the opposite phenomenon. Therin excellently captures the time period, the zeitgeist, of New York City (and later, London) in the 1920s. The series is urban fantasy, so Therin had more options--could take more liberties with historical "facts"--but generally speaking, the books feel like a tribute to the era of Al Capone and speakeasies and new automobiles and luxury liners than stories containing off-the-cuff allusions to those elements. 

As a writer who struggles with setting, I have to ask, How does she do it? 

She uses language--cloche hat, phonograph, "asylum" rather than "mental institution"--and settings--the series starts in New York City and one of the main characters operates a speakeasy. And Therin references certain events, such as a character learning to drive, which is considered--for a woman of the lower-middleclass--to be highly unusual. 

More than providing language and setting and references, Therin USES them. When Rory, the main protagonist, breaks his glasses, the possible cost of another is considered as big an imposition as me having to fix part of my car. The fact that the woman he works for can drive becomes a factor later on. And the speakeasy is an ongoing setting, especially since the woman who runs it needs to avoid being cheated by bootleggers. 

As I mention in one of my fan fiction posts, capturing a historical time period means taking the conditions of that time period seriously. Therin's series do. 

A-Z Romance: Stalkers in Nora Roberts' Skin Deep

For "R" I read Nora Roberts, the novella Skin Deep. The plot is about a film celebrity being stalked and the ruggedly handsome guy who guards her. 

I'm a big believer that there are exceptions to every rule, so even though I dislike books about celebrities, and I don't care for books about people being stalked (women or men: I have never watched more than ten minutes of Cape Fear 1962 despite Gregory Peck), I thought I would give it a try. 

Lo and behold, the celebrity part and even the stalking part didn't bother me too much. I thought Roberts captured the day-to-day grind and professional attitude of actors on set. The stalking was less than satisfactory but frankly, it paled next to what did bug me. 

The hero behaves like a stalker. 

He wanders through the film star's home. He enters her bedroom. He demands that she do what he wants and go where he wants. And because he is so virile and handsome and angsty or whatever, she doesn't get creeped out. She argues, but oh my, even as she is arguing, she is swooning. 

The problem here is not (necessarily) the bold, demanding, slightly demented hero. At one point, he acknowledges that he is behaving rather like the stalker. And I've read books, including manga, where the bold, demanding, slightly demented hero was matched by the bold, demanding, wholly demented love interest. Hey, if it works for them...

The problem here is that I was supposed to ignore the female character's OWN ARGUMENTS. 

"Oh, how dare he! I can't stand that kind of pressure. I am so tired of feeling unnerved in my own home! But..."

The mistake here is a mistake that I think only Joss Whedon and Dorothy Sayers have ever directly acknowledged: a person can be overwhelmed physically and sensually. That doesn't mean they won't hate themselves when their brain catches up to the rest of them. 

Yes, even with sex (which is supposedly untouchable). 

So Angel sleeps with Darla and then goes, "Wow, that was SOOOO dumb." 

And in Dorothy Sayers, Wimsey, who has a reputation for being good in bed, refuses to use that particular tactic with Harriet. He tries everything else. He takes her on dates. He argues with her. He gets involved with the murder case she comes across. But he never uses physical pleasure to bind her. 

At one point, she acknowledges that if he had, she--weary from her trial; weary with herself--would have "gone up like straw." 

Wimsey would have got her in the short run. He would have lost her forever in the long-run. 

In truth, in fact, in reality, the film celebrity in Nora Roberts' novella should have fired the hero the moment he stepped into her bedroom without her permission. There was absolutely no reason for him to be there. It's unprofessional behavior. And having non-professionals guard one is the epitome of dumbness. And rather terrifying.

Intent does not excuse stalking--not once the brain catches up to a person's integrity.  

A-Z Romances: P is for Probabilities

Reading Mary Jo Putney's novella One Wicked Winter Night, I was reminded of one of the many Jane Eyres I have reviewed. In it, Jane Eyre and Helen behave like modern teens snidely telling off the ridiculous headmaster, snarky swaggering that in that time period would have gotten them sent away from the school--or worse. 

With historical writing, there is always the problem of trying to stay faithful to the time period while capturing behavior that we modern readers recognize in ourselves. T.H. White pulls this off in The Sword in the Stone, despite the anachronisms (anachronisms to fourteenth century medieval England) because (1) he is obvious about what he is doing--the anachronisms are part of his style; (2) he captures the essence of human behavior across time. 

I suggest line between "okay, they didn't talk that way but that dialogue does capture the time and place" and "I can't take this seriously" gets crossed when human behavior becomes itself improbable. Jane and Helen behaving like quick-witted teens who have lawyer fathers at home is not believable--the anachronistic behavior stands out more. 

Putney's novella, unfortunately, has both anachronisms and unlikely human behavior. At one point, the couple discuss the hero's evil (dead) father. Apparently, he had an affair and fathered an illegitimate daughter. Although he sent an allowance, his unwillingness to do more for the daughter is discussed with hot indignation--in a Regency novel--by the main characters. 

In fact, by Regency standards, the fact that the evil father took responsibility and sent the equivalent of child support is impressive. He is no longer evil. A reader who understands the time period begins to suspect that he had a softer side (except the author doesn't want me to believe that). Moreover, illegitimate children--while they might be supported and even adored by parents--were rarely openly discussed using those terms. Mr. B's illegitimate daughter in Pamela is cared for and supported by Pamela, but she is also carefully shielded against any suggestion of an inappropriate background so she can eventually marry well. 

Those conditions may be unfair. They are reality. The righteous condemners are virtue-signaling like crazy but in reality, they would be causing more problems for the people they label "illegitimate." 

More unlikely human behavior comes earlier in the novel when a young woman writes, "Once more I give thanks to my wonderful visit with you in India because that led to me being captured by corsairs on the way home." 

 What? What?! 

That's the kind of off-hand remark that is either a huge joke or demands that the character stop and reflect: Ah, yes, she mentioned being captured by corsairs in her last letter. 

Yet the text keeps going without pause. 

There were aspects of the novella that I enjoyed. The hero is a duke; his responsibilities are honestly spelled out (his dukedom isn't just an opportunity for him to collect ghastly statues as in the 2005 Pride & Prejudice). The heroine has invested in trading, which is entirely probable. She also makes a point that traveling is not romantic: it takes a great deal of "commonsense." Moreover, the BIG secret is big enough to explain the heroine's reaction, and it is quite believable for the time period. 

And there are lots of pet cats! 

Nevertheless, it is a pity when a not-too-terrible-plot with not-too-terrible-protagonists is ruined by everybody having to think properly...by modern standards. And it doesn't help when even by modern standards, they seem a little too coy and accepting.  

 

A-Z Romances: Oke and Non-Transcendental Religion

On my main blog, Votaries, I have several A-Z Lists. For one list, I read a new book by fiction authors, going A to Z. For "O," I read The Bluebird and the Sparrow by Janette Oke

Janette Oke writes religious romances. They are similar to Grace Livingston Hill's romances: the religious context is clearly Christian evangelical but in a rather ecumenical way. Christian Light. Protagonists don't swear or behave badly, but there isn't a whole lot of theological discussion going on either.

In the review on Votaries, I argue that the lack of theological discussion doesn't make the romances nonreligious. After all, religion has a social, even therapeutic side. My big question, in that review, was "Why is it that religious fiction often can't capture the transcendental nature of religion?"

As, say, C.S. Lewis's fiction does. 

This time around, I decided to give Oke another try. My current A-Z List on Votaries is about characters and character-building. Is there a connection between rather bland religious fiction and lack of decent character development?

Based on the book I read--Beyond the Gathering Storm--the answer is, "Yes!" 

The book takes place in the early twentieth century (the time frame is difficult to ascertain since automobiles are treated as newcomers to the streets but Hitler is mentioned as causing problems in Europe). The main female protagonist is a young woman working as a typist in the big city. Her not-unfriendly employer asks her to move into his large house and become his cook on the side. Even by today's standards, this suggestion borders harassment since Christine isn't sure if a refusal will result in the termination of her employment. 

Instead of saying, "No" for perfectly comprehensible reasons, both by 1900s standards  and by current standards, Christine tells the employer that she has to pray about it. 

She then writes her parents. Instead of writing back and saying, "Are you an idiot? That is an unbelievably dangerous position to place yourself in. And not what we agreed to when we helped you get through your typing course," the parents write back that Christine needs...to pray about it. 

Okay, so apparently, it is God's problem that a young woman and her parents don't have the brains God gave them. 

It's hard to see a transcendent God in all this--rather, God is the person who gives (obvious) advice to stupid people. 

It's the kind of scene that makes Pamela look positively fleshed out. Pamela is also quite pious but her religious beliefs, while not entirely transcendent, at least provide some solid philosophical stances. She doesn't belong to the same class as Mr. B but she maintains that she deserves to be treated with equal respect because she and Mr. B are equal in the eyes of God.

Pamela has a belief system. With Christine, I could never figure out her belief system except she is nominally Christian.  

In a later scene, Christine is put off by the rowdy and vulgar friends at Boyd's picnic. (The friends are portrayed as flappers, which again, confuses the time frame. Hitler was causing issues in Germany by the 1920s, but it is doubtful that anyone would have referenced him in Canada as a possible cause of war in Europe as early as that.)

I gave the character a pass regarding the rowdy friends: there is nothing more uncomfortable than being at a shindig that involves forced extroversion with unlikable people. Christine is well within her rights to counter, as she does, by inviting Boyd to church. 

He attends and is not impressed. Both Christine and the writer seem to think that Boyd's lack of enthusiasm is not due to social connections taking time to development but to Boyd's inherently shallow nature. "Church" is a signal of virtue, not a frank appraisal of what C.S. Lewis acknowledges can be an occasionally mundane and trite and tedious commitment. 

In fact, Boyd tries to compromise by thinking up outings he and Christine can enjoy together. Christine is disappointed because presumably Boyd's reaction means he is not of her world. But since she treats church much like an outing--the Correct Type of Outing--it's hard to see how Boyd has misread the situation here. 

This is Church as Performance Art, much the same way much so-called social justice is people waving their arms around rather than going into inner cities (or out into the countryside) and registering people to vote (or setting up medical clinics). 

Boyd conveniently turns out to also be an abusive bully, so Christine never has to face any reality about her beliefs. Her beliefs are Good. His are Bad. She doesn't even have to grapple with anything as difficult as "What if he is a fantastic boyfriend and serious student and loyal help-meet--but indifferent to religion? What choice would I make then?" 

Not a lot of character and transcendence here (though the second story in the novel about Henry and a widower at least involves two decent people building a relationship based on honest interactions). One suspects that Christine's church isn't that different from her wishy-washy response to most of the people in her life: it would be blown down in one roar from Aslan (as Paul warns about all churches). And what would be left? 

The characters don't seem to know.

N is for Nutty Significant Others or Ted Bundy Didn't Fool Everyone

A popular trope in traditional romance novels is the heroine who is engaged or married to a sociopath. 

The book I tried by Brenda Novak, Tourist Season, falls into this category. 

I have a problem with this trope. 

Americans like to mythologize their serial killers: They are so clever and so handsome...THAT'S why they aren't caught right away. 

The truth is, catching serial killers is hard because randomness (or seeming randomness) is hard to pinpoint. It isn't because serial killers are "all that." 

One of Ted Bundy's approaches was to put on a sling (to make himself look harmless) and ask women to help him at his car. The myth forgets, a number of women didn't go with him. (The movie with Harmon as Bundy does a good job showing that reality.) 

Harmon as Bundy

The women didn't go with him for all kinds of reasons. They had plans. Or they had a policy of not going anywhere with strangers. Or they suggested fetching other people to help. Or they actually thought he was kind of sketchy. Not sketchy enough to call in the cops--people don't usually react to uneasy feelings that way. But sketchy.

One of my aunts (now dead) married a creepy guy. She then divorced him and married another creepy guy. 

Her sisters, including my mom, thought the guys were creepy from Day One.

Of course, people fall into relationships for reasons other than using their brains. People aren't (necessarily) to blame for ending up with horrible partners and/or with partners who become horrible and/or with abusive partners. They certain don't deserve to be hurt/killed.

Brenda is a great, flawed character

who luckily ends up with Fritz.

The problem with the trope in paperback romances is how often the writers want the heroines to be savvy and logical,  tough women who are trapped, not dopey women or desperate women or even (like Brenda in The Closer) complicated women who can be tough on the job but really stupid about relationships. 

Instead, the heroines' above-it-all natures are used to excuse their lack of perception, despite these female characters often being in careers that rely on their perceptiveness about people.

I likely wouldn't like the characters much better if they were basket-cases who made excuses for their partners (as my aunt did). But I also wouldn't spend the book, thinking, "It took you until now to figure out that this guy is a pathological liar?" especially since, far too often, the guy turns out to have no redeeming qualities. He is handsome and charming but there's nothing else to explain the engagement or marriage--not a pitiable story or shared interests. 

Just...one day this entirely self-aware woman was walking along and, oops, happened to get into a serious relationship with a serial killer. My, my, how did that happen?   

Novak does supply an interesting contrast: a sociopath versus an ordinary criminal/guy who went to jail. Unfortunately, the contrast emphasizes how un-self-aware the heroine is: if there is a difference between the men...what took you so long?!  

A-Z Romances: Milan and the Working Class

A great, great, great many Regency romances take place amongst the gentry--or higher. I think one of the reasons is the success of and liking for Jane Austen and Georgette Heyer. Many writers come to romance by way of Austen and Heyer and know how good the material can be. 

I think, too, that there is interest in upper class lives. Many archaeologists and historians have attempted to make working class lives interesting, but the records on that side are sparse, and even HBO's Rome, which produced decent working-class heroes, entwined those working-class heroes with the dramas of their "betters," in the personages of Julius Caesar and Mark Antony and Cleopatra. 

However, the endless focus on the upper classes does get a trifle monotonous after awhile. Or, at least, it gets harder for the new novel to stand out from the rest, especially when the milieu seems entirely coincidental. Not there for plot reasons. Just there so people can discuss wardrobes. 

Consequently, I tend to prefer romances that take at least one step down the ladder. Loretta Chase's marvelous Dressmakers Series is a great solution to a reader's varied interests since she combines lords and dukes with extremely witty dialog and, most importantly, the sisters' desire to be the best dressmakers in London. They don't simply want to make money. They want to exercise their artistic abilities and managerial skills. The result is delightful books with strong denouements. (In fact, I wish the fourth book--Lady Clara's book, which focuses on legal cases rather than dressmaking--had concentrated more on the couple getting by in the equivalent of the middle class: not quite at Darcy's level, yet not as poor and struggling as Miss Bates.) 

Courtney Milan's Turner Series is somewhat darker than Chase's. However, it also manages to escape the "then they went to ANOTHER dance" scenes. Unraveled, for instance, deals with Smite Turner as a justice and the woman who becomes first his mistress and then his wife. Part of the book is focused on getting a shipwright apprenticeship for a young man--not getting him into Eton. When Smite moves his mistress into a house, it is a townhouse: luxury for her but not, thank goodness, a mansion.

Moreover, though the Turner brothers have a family home and it is a nice place, scenes from the past indicate that at one point the cellar flooded. Even Darcy's cellar probably floods on occasion! (My Darcy-like father spent most of my childhood trying to figure out how to get rainwater not to drain into our basement: my childhood home was a ranch house on a hill.) 

Without turning into a Marxist tract--because people in every age have survived and fallen in love, whatever their economic status (the micro life choices are considered more important than the macro theoretical meaning)--the book, set in Bristol, manages to capture a gritty reality in which people do exactly that.

 

A-Z Romances: Laurens and the Non-Idiosyncratic Mystery Couple

I decided to read a mystery by a romance author that I don't usually read. 

I read The Peculiar Case of Lord Finsbury's Diamonds by Stephanie Laurens. Laurens is a good writer but I'm not entirely drawn to her style. I did find the mystery interesting--although I thought a more plotted/Christie-type resolution would have supplied a stronger pay-off. 

However, I did not find the couples particularly interesting. A number of romances supply couples who are perfectly aligned, perfectly in love, perfectly happy. I suspect that such romances are echoing what many people find satisfying with Bones, Castle, and other great romance mysteries: a couple in sync. 

However, these romances miss that Bones specifically is so good because Brennan and Booth remain very much themselves. Bones, Brennan, is still quite literal, still competitive, still convinced of rather implausible life choices, such as becoming president. Booth still argues about finances and Brennan's work-oriented vacations. 

The series Castle comes to pieces at the end. However, Castle himself remains obsessed with toys. And Beckett continues to call him on his teasing, such as when she makes the entire family dress up for Thanksgiving. 

(Some) manga is also quite good at keeping the couple odd and off-kilter. Take Spy v. Family! Or Fake, in which the dreamy yet capable Ryo remains himself while brash and hot-tempered Dee remains himself.  

I love romances! What I don't enjoy is "passion claimed them and touch became their language, desire their beacon, and shared pleasure their mutual goal. Yet beneath the heat and the rising tide of yearning, their 'one thing' thudded like a heartbeat, steady and strong. A reassurance and a guarantee, a talisman of the future. An indisputable promise that their dreams could become and would become reality." 

Such passages leave me cold. Compare the above by Lauren to one of my favorite lines by a man to his lover:

"[The poems you wrote] are just like you. Incomprehensible and far too clever for their own good, and hiding all sorts of things, and--rather beautiful." (from K.J. Charles's Think of England)

I'd rather have the latter than the former.

A mystery helps. It doesn't entirely make up for what is lacking.

A-Z Romances: Eloisa James & The Art of the Short Story

A few years ago, I read a number of Eloisa James' books, focusing on the Essex Sisters series. 

I recently read a short story "A Mistletoe Kiss" in the Mistletoe Christmas anthology. I was reminded all over again how much I enjoy James's writing. She is one of several writers in the early 2000s (and beyond) who made romances more literary, more historically accurate, and also (most importantly) much funnier with clever banter along Thin Man lines.

"A Mistletoe Kiss" has a unique setting, strong characters, well-paced writing, and, of course, more than decent dialog.

However, the story also reminded me of how much short story writing is in its own medium. I wrote and published short stories for over a decade and now struggle to write anything longer than about 20,000 words (I usually run out of steam about 30,000). 

Writers of 60,000 words+ often struggle moving in the other direction. 

The short story is its own piece of art. It isn't better or worse than a novel (though many readers will complain because they want to learn more about the characters). Like poetry versus an epic piece, it concentrates on delivering characters and an arc in a show-not-tell fashion that nevertheless moves quite quickly. 

It takes skill. Agatha Christie had this skill since she could transform stereotypes into quick characterizations that fit the story's arc. She also used voice to great effect: in The Tuesday Club murders, the short stories are told by different narrators, from slightly pompous Raymond to clever and atmosphere-oriented Joyce Lemprière and then gentle yet ever so faintly acerbic Miss Marple herself. 

The hardest part is to have a climax that pays off the conflict set in motion not many paragraphs earlier. And there needs to be a climax; otherwise, the story meanders (there is a stream-of-consciousness genre out there where the arc doesn't go much of anywhere--but I'm focusing right now on stories with romance and mystery). 

Georgette Heyer was quite skilled at short stories, though they do vary considerably in delivery. In the male/male romance genre, Kim Fielding is one of the best.

Eloisa James's story is good but could have used a stronger pay-off/climax. However, it supplies a decent dive into her style as well as an enchanting holiday setting. 

 Related Posts: The Trouble with Manga Short Stories, Part I

The Trouble with Manga Short Stories, Part II 

The Trouble with Manga Short Stories, Part III

 What Makes a Good Manga Short Story and What Makes a Good Manga Short Story Continued...

Interview with a Translator: Twelve Kingdoms, Short Stories & Language

 

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 of Island 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 of Island is--as Literature Devil suggests--the "winner" in the relationship sweeps. In comparison, as I point out in a separate post, the narrator's marriage to Maxim in Rebecca is...complicated.  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.

A-Z Romance! Fessenden and Dangerous Christmases

Christmas literature is filled with murderous relatives, serial killing snowman, unpleasant Santa Clauses and so on. 

Jamie Fessenden's Tomte uses a Scandinavian folk figure, the Tomte, to deliver up the classic Northern trope of the human captured underground/in a mound (see Perilous Gard by Elizabeth Marie Pope). The events are tied into Christmas. 

The not-entirely-pinnable nature of Tomte is well-done. The alluring world of the Älvor (elves, fairies) is well-conveyed: attractive yet dangerous. I also enjoyed the time travel switch. 

However, I disliked the ending. I'm a big believer that if one is going to undertake life-changing and risky decisions, one should live with them. In The Titan's Bride, when Mizuki decides to stay in his lover's world, his existence as a teen is erased from Earth and others' memories, but the cost of that erasing lingers. People miss him without knowing why. 

I also found the tie-in to Christmas something of a stretch. The visit to the toy shop is quite effective. I would have suggested using additional direct Christmas tropes/archetypes to solve the problem at the end. 

The book did get me thinking, however, about that link between danger and Christmas! The Winter Solstice is a time of year where darkness comes up against joyousness. I've always felt that the combination was pure human instinct and necessity. Humans intelligently, cleverly, creatively handle the vagaries of nature--seasons, biological changes--by creating rituals. 

Below are a few mystery/murder stories for this time of year:

• "Back for Christmas" from Alfred Hitchcock Presents: in all honesty, the Christmas season doesn't play that big a role, but it does supply a clever pay-off. And it stars the marvelous John Williams.
• Die Hard...of course!
• Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot's Christmas
• Envious Casca by Georgette Heyer
• Tied Up in Tinsel by Ngaoi Marsh. Marsh uses the Christmas season directly. Perhaps because Marsh was also a playwright, the murderer's "disguise" is almost directly connected to an English/Celtic version of Father Christmas, who visits the house party which is graced by a huge tree. The weather also plays a direct role.
• "The Necklace of Pearls" by Dorothy Sayers, which uses English customs as part of the plot.
• Master of the Hall by KJ Charles, also replete with English customs--and a Damon Runyon set of dangers!
  

 

A-Z Romance! Enoch and Anachronisms

Suzanne Enoch's books strike me as modern people doing stuff in Regency dress. Independent young women take risks that not even Bronte would defend.

And if people enjoy that kind of thing, they should read it! 

I don't much. Many of the historical romances I read use modern-ish language and avoid some of the more unpalatable attitudes of the past. Yet I accept many of them as true-to-the time period.

And I asked myself, How does a contemporarily-written historical romance avoid sounding too modern?

The solution, I determined, comes down to the characters' mindsets.

In one of the many Jane Eyres I've watched, Jane Eyre and Helen are introduced as two giggling girls with beautiful hair. They bond when they both have their hair cut off (the event is borrowed from a minor character in the book). The haircutting is preceded with a show of bravado as they both coyly offer up their hair to the bad headmaster. It's the equivalent of the obnoxious junior high girls who say, "Oh, absolutely, whatever you say" to the teacher in fake compliant voices.

Lowood is a horrible place, and the headmaster is a horrible guy. But the confident, quirky, sarcastic behavior of the girls does not fit the time period.

Consider that Jane is inwardly defiant and Helen is dying. What do they actually say to each other in Bronte's novel?

[Jane said,] “Helen, why do you stay with a girl whom everybody believes to be a liar?”

“Everybody, Jane? Why, there are only eighty people who have heard you called so, and the world contains hundreds of millions.”

“How can they pity me after what Mr. Brocklehurst has said?”

“Mr. Brocklehurst is not a god: nor is he even a great and admired man: he is little liked here; he never took steps to make himself liked. Had he treated you as an especial favourite, you would have found enemies...Besides, Jane”—she paused. “If all the world hated you, and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved you, and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends.”

“No; I know I should think well of myself; but that is not enough: if others don’t love me I would rather die than live—”

“Hush, Jane! you think too much of the love of human beings; you are too impulsive, too vehement.”

Helen's response here is Daria coupled with religious fervor while Jane's is pure passion and anxiety. Both are entirely appropriate to the time period. Yet Jane, Helen, and Miss Temple do nothing to risk Jane or Helen actually being expelled.

In sum, in believable contemporarily written historical novels, characters are aware of the real risks of their setting and try to handle them.

KJ Charles's Band Sinister is a great example. A young man and his sister, Guy and Amanda, end up in the house of a man, Philip, with a bad reputation. It turns out that the supposed rake doesn't have orgies and consort with Satan-worshippers. He does consort with Deists and early Bohemians. 

The characters are mostly all members of the gentry, but unlike the others, Guy and Amanda are reliant on a stingy and censorious aunt for their allowance, Amanda's marriage prospects, and their overall acceptance in genteel society. A scandal would massively hurt that relationship. 

Consequently, towards the end of the novel, Guy and Philip have a raging row about Guy bowing to "proprieties," but then, Philip can afford to shrug his shoulders at society while Guy is thinking about the future and survival. Guy and Amanda do want to be free of the aunt. They consider selling their books and furniture and setting up on their own. That decision would entail a total change in lifestyle for the siblings, which Philip doesn't understand until some of his more Bohemian friends point it out to him.

When Philip returns to clear the air and offer Guy a better alternative, Guy still doesn't thumb his nose at his aunt. He is as courteous as he can be. As Philip states,

"[M]erely listening to that conversation [between you, Guy, and your aunt] just now, I wanted to leave that room a pile of smouldering wreckage. Whereas you didn't, despite far greater provocation. You thought; you were kind; you at least made a reconciliation possible in the future...I'm already notorious. I can't prevent any of that, so the question is whether you are prepared to accept a certain amount of unwanted attention of ill-natured gossip [by becoming Philip's secretary]."

Guy replies, 

"I daresay I can learn not to mind being talked about, if you don't mind trying to be talked about a bit less."

The language is somewhat modern. But the acknowledgment of real choices and real consequences and real risks within the milieu makes the book "historical."

Capturing the mindsets of the past may not be entirely possible--it should be attempted.

A-Z Romance! Drake

I picked up Olivia Drake's The Duke I Once Knew. Although I found the main character engaging, and I appreciated her desire to head out on her own, I found the premise somewhat unappealing:

She goes to work as a governess for the sister of a man with whom she lost contact years earlier. They blame each other for the ceased contact, and she never wants to see him again!

Yet she goes to work for his sister...

Right.

I think Elizabeth Bennet visiting Pemberley is allowable because (1) it is one day; (2) she is honestly curious about Darcy. She is shocked to encounter Darcy but accepts his appearance as an acceptable possibility. They use the encounter to reach a friendly peace, before Darcy determines to court her again.

But going to stay on an estate owned by a man whom one supposedly loathes because he broke one's heart--with the excuse that he won't ever visit--makes me roll my eyes. Even though the main character has limited options and is afraid her family will change her mind if she doesn't move rapidly (one of her more believable motivations), she does have other options.

Take Jane Eyre:

Jane spends eight years at Lowood as a student where she "had the means of an excellent education" and two as a teacher. However, once Miss Temple leaves, she finds she is tired of the "uniform" life.

I desired liberty; for liberty I gasped; for liberty I uttered a prayer; it seemed scattered on the wind then faintly blowing. I abandoned it and framed a humbler supplication; for change, stimulus: that petition, too, seemed swept off into vague space: “Then,” I cried, half desperate, “grant me at least a new servitude!”

So she places an advertisement in the paper.

"A young lady accustomed to tuition is desirous of meeting with a situation in a private family where the children are under fourteen. She is qualified to teach the usual branches of a good English education, together with French, Drawing, and Music.”

She only receives one reply--from Mrs. Fairfax--but here is a young lady at the age of eighteen showing more careful thought and activity about her future than a character who is near thirty. She later uses her education to help at St. Rivers' school. 

I don't much care for female characters who treat every encounter as an opportunity to argue; however, I do rather like them to use their heads. I don't care for heroines who are maneuvered into situations they would never have brought upon themselves: oh, my, how did that happen? 

Elizabeth and Jane comes across as more modern than some contemporarily written historical characters.  

The issue of lovers who previously fell out beginning over--see Austen's Persuasion--will crop up again.

A-Z Romance! Chase

Loretta Chase is one of my favorite romance writers. She captures the Regency time period alongside screwball comedy banter and various set-ups that require strong pay-offs.

I reread Knaves' Wager, one of her earliest. Her later novels are somewhat more complex plotwise, but this early novel indicates Chase's strengths. It provides characters and conflicts that are resolved through more than an abrupt death or sudden change of mind, both the equivalent of deus ex machinas.

 

Loretta's characters are clever; her problems demanding. The set-ups demand clever and demanding resolutions.

 

In terms of character growth, she does a decent job with her "knave," Lord Julian Brandon, who comes to realize how much he wants to seduce widow Lilith Davenant and spend time with her, even to the point of discussing...drainage!

 

Her heroine, strong-minded and somewhat regal and more than a little shattered by her past marriage, is likable. Strong-minded heroines will come up again and again in this list. If they have reasons for their strong-mindedness, including their fundamental personalities, they are far more likable than if they are operating within some kind of slated role. Chase's strong-minded women are always well-rounded characters. 

In fact, my favorite Chase is Mr. Impossible, which takes place in Egypt, involves a rascally hero and a smart, strong-minded, somewhat tunnel-visioned heroine (in the Temperance Brennan tradition). It delivers hilarious dialog alongside a Rider Haggard adventure.

 

Chase brings home to readers that romance is a story; it is an art in its own right.

A-Z Romance: Berne & Groundhog Day

Lisa Berne's The Redemption of Philip Thane is...Groundhog Day!

It IS Groundhog Day (even to the point of a runaway carriage ride) The rake, Philip Thane, has been sent to Whittlesey in January by his aunt to give a Plough Day speech, during which he introduces the Straw Bear. He encounters a bright young woman fascinated by folklore. He stays at a local inn. When he tries to leave the next day, a storm sends him back to Whittlesey. When he wakes the next morning, he is back in Plough Day. He goes through confusion, despair, acceptance...and so on. The lovely folklore scholar and he eventually fall in love.

 

The book is well-written. I skimmed most of it.

 

Here's the thing: I don't care that much for the repeat-a-day trope.

 

I don't mind it as a once-a-series episode. Star Trek did it. Stargate did it. And Groundhog Day is a clever and funny movie.

 

I don't find it specifically romantic.

I wondered at first if my issue was the idea of trying to change the past, an idea I philosophically dislike since OCD rehashes, if-onlys, and what-ifs are not even remotely helpful or character-forming. 

 

Quantum Leap doesn't bother me. However, in Quantum Leap, Sam isn't repeating his own life. He is living out other people's lives, and each choice leads to the next. In addition, Al remains a consistent and ongoing part of Sam's life. Sam learns more about Al and himself from episode to episode.

 

Likewise, regarding classic literature, although Scrooge goes back to his past, he doesn't change it. He learns from it and moves forward. 

 

And Back to the Future--where changing the past ends up changing Marty's future--is more about the adventure than about fixing everything. 

 

The problem with the repeat-a-day trope is not necessarily about revisiting the past. The problem with the trope, however fun, is the Love Boat problem.

 

That is, the idea behind repeat-a-day is that the main character undergoes growth or a fundamental shift in character apparently in 24-hours as a result of making constant improvements to the same order of events (rewriting an essay a hundred times until it gets an "A"). 

 

But change needs somewhere to go. I hate to reduce life to the somewhat reductionist idea of being sent to Earth to endure trials, proving whether we are good or bad. Rather, to borrow from C.S. Lewis, 

 

"[A] dangerous world [is] a world in which moral issues really come to the point. [C]ourage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point, which means, at the point of highest reality. A chastity or honesty, or mercy which yields to danger will be chaste or honest or merciful only on conditions. Pilate was merciful till it became risky."

 

In other words, once the couple leaves the "island" (boat), will the relationship retain the qualities that made is so attractive in the first place? (I don't take Love Boat seriously, so I'm okay with that question.)

 

Will Philip Thane remain reformed when faced with options elsewhere? (Will he be able to write ANOTHER essay, using what he has learned?)

 

That is, I like my romantic couples to build on what happened to them an hour before, day before, week before. Will they remain loyal when life DOES change?

 

With my favorite couples, yes: Elizabeth makes mistakes about Darcy and then learns the truth and questions herself. Darcy acts like a jerk and makes assumptions and then reviews his behavior. Jane grows up in fairly miserable circumstances, battens down her passion, and goes to work for Rochester, where she learns more about him. Rochester bumbles around with his life, meets Jane and finds a focus. Jane leaves, stands up to her nutty cousin, and returns.

 

Trajectory.

Again--repeat-a-day is a decent trope. But it doesn't have the romantic power of a person stumbling forward step-by-step and seeing/hoping/testing if each new choice will work in the future.

For those who love Groundhog Day and enjoy the trope, The Redemption of Philip Thane does give insight into the main character's growth.