What Makes This Manga Stand Out: Workplace Romance in On and Off

There are many many BL series now in which work peers fall in love. Sometimes, the couple joined the company around the same time. Sometimes, they are rivals from high school or college. Sometimes, they work in the same department. Sometimes, one becomes a superior. And so on. 

I am not opposed to the same plot concept being used and reused. I admit I don't have much tolerance for endless vampire stories. But even there, I think there are exceptions, tales that are unique. 

By "unique," I don't mean avant-garde or "rule-breaking." 

I want story, not some stream-of-consciousness experiment. 

"Unique," for me, refers to a story that is memorable and engaging. It is different for HOW it handles material, not for trying (impossibly) to invent new material.

In the work romance genre, On or Off stands out. No Love Zone, despite also being a full-color manhwa, strikes me as a bit samey and forgettable (No Love Zone is only recently gaining something like a plot: in Volume 3!). 

What makes On or Off unique is not only that the characters have an actual task/account/app to complete (getting that work completed underpins the volumes so far)--the characters also retain core characterizations. 

As I mention in the post on Semantic Error, a good romance keeps the characters' individual oddities even as they fall in love. The characters don't abruptly turn either coy or flawlessly understanding and affectionate. They continue to be idiosyncratic.

In On or Off, Kang keeps his poignant awareness that romance requires negotiation. He misreads Ahn more than once; unusually for an alpha character, he not only takes responsibility for his miscalculations, he studies his lover, whom he finds endlessly surprising. His older age (by about 15 years) aligns with his ability to assess how he and Ahn can find middle ground. 

Meanwhile, dedicated, hardworking, charismatic yet guileless Ahn goes at everything in his impulsive yet tactful way (as when he covers for Mina's bluntness). With Kang, he is straightforward yet abashed. Being in love enhances those qualities!

Ahn and Kang don't transform into blokes who react in the "proper" romantic ways. Rather, they react to their relationship as distinct individuals. 

 

Perpetual Bachelors: Trope and Stigma

Nero Wolfe is a perpetual bachelor. Perpetual bachelors are a longstanding tradition in literature, from PG Wodehouse's upper-middleclass men fleeing from marriage to Sherlock Holmes with his bromantic partner. 

Nero Wolfe falls in the subcategory of "perpetual bachelor who has been around the block." Tom Selleck's Frank Reagan also falls into this category. Although Frank is surrounded (quite literally) by family, he remains unattached. He had a marriage. He has kids. He doesn't want to go back or start over or move on to something else. He and Henry, his father and a similar type of perpetual bachelor, have an honest conversation with Danny about their disinterest in marrying again. Danny also lost his wife but he doesn't see his father or his grandfather as people to emulate--in their relationships, at least. 

Regarding Nero Wolfe, hints in the books and shows suggest that Wolfe had passionate causes and relationships in his past. He now wants a life of order and comfort. 

PG Wodehouse's bachelors are less excused. Although the stories applaud Wooster each time he escapes his aunts' marriage plans, Wooster himself is portrayed as a less self-aware Wimsey: a young man with no real objective in life, flying from responsibility. Jeeves is perfectly willing to assist since Jeeves prefers the good life of caring for a single unencumbered individual than for a household. 

The modern, American equivalent of Wooster is the-guy-in-the-basement-playing-video-games-and-still-living-with-his-parents.

So there is a stigma attached to bachelorhood. However, it has never been as great as the stigma attached to "spinsters." Consider Vance's cats. Even the footloose and fancy-free spinster bears a greater stigma than the male variety. So Michael Weatherly's Tony (NCIS) is a fun-loving womanizer who simply hasn't found the right girl yet while some of the characters from Sex & the City strike even me as kind of skanky and stupid. In fairness, Blanche from Golden Girls, though often called "skanky" by others, comes across as a pragmatic woman who enjoys life and doesn't see the need to apologize for her forms of entertainment. (In so many ways, Golden Girls was ahead of its time and today's time.) 

Still--the idea that men sow wild oats while women fail to fulfill social responsibilities lingers. 

Overall, stigmas exist regarding both male and female singles. And those stigmas can increase for men and for women depending on a culture. That is, some cultures will criticize the single male more while others will sneer more at the single female.

Personally, I'm a fan of pluralism. Not "diversity," in part because the term has bullying connotations these days that I don't agree with. I don't agree with people being applauded for their differences. I believe in people being left alone to enjoy their differences. I live in a neighborhood with single people and married people and living-together people and people-with-kids...we get up, we go to work, we go to play, we go shopping. That's life. 

So if people are happy in a basement, why shouldn't they hang out there? 

Wimsey and Harriet: It's About More than Brains

Lord Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane are often praised as a pair of intellectual equals. THAT is what makes them so romantic.

I think this description does Sayers a disservice. 

Her characters are more substantial than two people who can exchange ponderances on the news-of-the-world and-or literary analysis. As A.I. has proved, anybody can do those things (or, at least, look like they are doing those things). 

Peter does appreciate Harriet's writerly occupation. And her intelligence is a given. 

What attracts him to Harriet, however, is her fearlessness.

He attends Harriet's trial. In that trial, Harriet tells the absolute truth, even though it works against her and she clearly understands that it works against her. 

Harriet is suspected of murdering her pompous, condescending lover who died from arsenic poisoning. Harriet ended the relationship because he offered to marry her. She had agreed to live with him based on his avant-garde beliefs, including the belief that "marriage is just a piece of paper." In the early 1900s, this decision made her a social pariah in some circles. His sudden offer of marriage made her feel like she is being offered a "bad conduct prize," as if all along she was being tested to see if she was worthy of marriage (based on the lover's character, testing Harriet was exactly what he was doing). For her, the principle of a thing isn't an abstract notion but a reality of day-to-day life. 

She is, in sum, a kind of Nero Wolfe. An almost ruthless brain is at work behind her social poise. And Wimsey--who knows plenty of intellectual women and plenty of female artists (he has slept with a number)--is bowled over. Utterly smitten. 

In Busman's Honeymoon, Peter and Harriet have an exchange where Peter admits, "I can enjoy practically everything that comes along--while it's happening. Only I have to keep doing things, because, if I once stop, it all seems a lot of rot...Now, I don't know." He was always running to keep ahead of his fears and possible depression. 

Harriet, however, has always been more grounded: "I've always felt absolutely certain [that life] was good. I've hated almost everything that ever happened to me, but I knew all the time it was just things that were wrong, not everything. Even when I felt most awful, [I thought] of somehow getting out of the mess and starting again...Things have come straight."

That non-saccharine optimism is a quality that pulls Peter fiercely to Harriet. He would possibly get bored (as would she) if they weren't intellectual equals. But IQ is not the quality that makes the relationship. The ways Harriet and Peter separately tackle the universe are far more impactful.    

Love is not something that can be plotted on a chart.

The Snarky Boyfriend in Manga

On Votaries I discuss the archetype of the Aloof Hero. 

A variation of the Aloof Hero occurs in manga, mainly The Aloof Hero Disguised as the Snarky Boyfriend. His aloofness allows him to stand outside of society's norms and comment on them. 

Below is a repost about snarky boyfriends. 

* * * 

The snarky boyfriend is common in both shojo and yaoi. Think Kurosaki in Dengeki Daisy. He teases Teru, behaves like a taskmaster--then rescues her, comforts her, turns to her when he is sad.

Likewise, Dee in Fake is Mr. Flirty/Playboy/Snarky Guy with everyone, yet opens up about his life and needs with Ryo.

On the surface, the snarky boyfriend is simply a sub-type of the rake: the angsty guy who is only vulnerable and open with the "one" romantic interest.

However, there is a slight (and rather fascinating) variation on the snarky boyfriend. The variation snarky boyfriend is not only sweet and vulnerable with the "one," he is often only snarky with the "one."

This is especially true of high school romances where the secretly snarky boyfriend is the aloof school idol: to his admirers, he is handsome, kind, thoughtful, self-sacrificing, never sarcastic, always on a pedestal, plays sports, gets good grades...

He never lets anyone entirely close (though he sometimes has one good childhood friend). The arrival of the one-and-only in his life is a relief, an opportunity to be his true self, especially since the one-and-only is usually the type to eschew pretense; unlike the snarky boyfriend, the one-and-only always behaves in accordance with his or her true self.

In Only the Ring Finger Knows (manga and light novels), snarky boyfriend Kazuki is only sarcastic with guileless and forthright Wataru. In His Favorite, snarky boyfriend Sato is only his somewhat sadistic self with bemused, straightforward Yoshida.

Only Kasahara can entirely provoke the cool-headed Atsushi Dojo in Library Wars. While Paul from Lies are a Gentleman's Manners is singularly capable of drawing the reserved Jonathan into snarky shouting matches.

It's like the Hulk in reverse. And can occasionally go too far. When done well, it showcases the "realness" of the relationship. Whatever outside facades or demeanors the members of the couple give to the rest of the world, to each other, they give their true faces.

Great Laid Back Action Hero: Hugh Beringer

On Votaries, I have reached characters from "P" authors. Since Ellis Peters is one of those authors, I naturally started thinking about the Cadfael mysteries.

Hugh Beringar is a great character, and I realized, much to my delight, that he falls into the category of laid-back hero (see list below). He is the sheriff of Shrewsbury and the surrounding area for most of the Cadfael series. He is spry and lean with dark hair and eyes. He marries early on. Consequently, his life and family parallel Cadfael's--including their pleasure in meeting their sons (new born in Hugh's case; full-grown in Cadfael's case). He remains Cadfael's ally and friend through all the books. 

He is also quite laid-back. Cadfael does not know at first what to make of Hugh, who is observant, calm, and capable of playing a long game. Cadfael begins to trust him and is relieved to have that trust affirmed when Beringar is amused--rather than angry--at being out-maneuvered in One Corpse Too Many. 

In the first season of the series, Beringar is played by Sean Pertwee. The look is absolutely right. Pertwee plays Beringar's character as a tad more uptight--I suppose two entirely sanguine-y characters onscreen would be too much--but he captures the easy push and pull with Cadfael. And Pertwee has this marvelous low-pitched baritone which captures the character's contemplative side.

Other Laid-Back Heroes

• Lieutenant Pruden
  
• 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

 

Character Transformation in Romance: When It Works

I point out in several posts that one reason I will walk away from an author/series is the abandonment of the character. That is, the author starts using a character for an often completely unrelated agenda by giving the character attitudes and behavior inconsistent with the character's earlier attitudes and behavior. 

The issue here is complicated by the fact that people do change. 

They change in terms of age. They change in terms of focus (what they care about, what they have time for). They even change by improving: shedding bad habits; acquiring good habits; treating others' better; treating themselves better. 

In Niffenegger's Time Traveler's Wife, the wife is at first somewhat disappointed when she meets her husband in chronological time. He isn't the older, wiser, gentle, mature guy she has grown up knowing. She knows what is coming, however, and waits for him to become that guy. 

Generally speaking, I do not advocate marriages built on "in the future, she/he might...."  In this case, what Clare knows about the man is something of a given. She still takes a leap of faith. But she isn't signing up for a complete unknowable. 

And, from a writing point of view, Henry doesn't instantly become somebody else. He is THAT guy, simply younger.

What keeps a character a character, even while that character matures? 

In my review of "Humbug," a Scrooge-tribute, I wrote that the novella succeeds because the author, Joanna Chambers, doesn't abandon the (thirty-odd) Scrooge's base personality: 

Chambers characterizes her thirty-something Scrooge, Quin, as inherently obsessive. That is, his personality is such that no matter what he does, he has to go at it to the nth degree. He gets into the consulting game by accident but once he is there, of course, he's going to be the best consultant ever whose team is also the "best". He's on the fast-track to becoming a manager.

Problem: the gig isn't totally in line with his personality, so he becomes--as characters in the story repeatedly tell him--a "dick." He later tells Rob, the Bob Crachit character, "I think [this job] brings out the worst in me."  Instead of becoming the kind of leader whose team is the best because they admire him and feel appreciated, he becomes (is becoming) the kind of leader who wrings work out of people through unreasonable demands and sheer sarky irritation. He is acting in accordance with what he believes to be the "role" of manager--and he does it well, but it makes him absolutely unpleasant to be around.

After his epiphany, he returns to his first plan to be a math teacher. And here is where Joanna Chambers really knocks the characterization out of the park: because of course, Quin has to be the BEST teacher. Only this time, what he wants and what he brings to the table are in line. He'll get in his students' faces ("They'll love you," Rob says, "because you're sarky"). He'll get in their parents' faces. He'll tick off the school board but still win. The aggressive energy that makes him unlikable in one field (that he doesn't feel at home in) will make him an excellent advocate in another.

That is, the triumph (and difficulty) of the character who changes is that the character remains the character, only better. 

A spouse can get better--but not because the spouse turns into someone else. The spouse is THAT PERSON improved, not "what I really wished I'd married instead."

Persona Matters: Why Gun and Tinn Can't Switch Places

Years ago, after watching a play at church, my mother said about one of the actors, "He just basically went on-stage and behaved like himself."

She was quite amused. The man wasn't "acting." 

Arguably, a great many actors are simply being themselves. Likewise, when I teach, I am "performing" as a more extroverted, in-one's-face version of myself. 

Sure, there are the Gary Oldmans who become completely subsumed by their roles. But actors have a particular aura that is, to a degree, recognizable. 

Consequently, switching roles doesn't automatically work. 

In My School President, Tinn--a young man who decides to become a doctor--woos Gun--a young man who is seriously interested in music. Despite the choice of careers, Tinn is actually somewhat more laid-back than Gun. He would be rather like an ER doctor I know: good at his job, ambitious (enough) but quite ready to stick to the regular schedule of the ER, no matter how crazy it gets in the moment.

Gun as singer.

Despite his bohemian tendencies, Gun is more highly strung. In fact, he is quite in keeping, personality-wise, with many musicians. 

In a later show, the characters switch places, so Gun becomes the ambitious doctor/student while Tinn becomes the bohemian. 

It doesn't work. And it doesn't work because of the underlying personas or attitudes. 

Serious-minded Gun as an ambitious medical student would drive himself into an early grave. He is already highly strung. His almost practiced insouciance in
My School President is self-protection. An environment where he can find himself--despite the highs and lows of a musician's life--will allow him to relax into that insouciance. 

Tinn embracing his whimsy.

Whimsical laid-back Tinn, on the other hand, doesn't become attractive as a bohemian; instead, he comes off as kind of a jerk, a guy who is deliberately playing a role rather than a guy who loves music more than anything else. 

The differences reach back to the actor's personalities. Forth, who plays Gun, is somewhat more reserved than even his character while Gemini, who plays Tinn, doesn't mind mugging to the camera. In the original roles, their underlying personalities give them depth. The outlier musician often proves quite serious on occasion. The serious (if laid-back) doctor gains a playful side.

Switch those roles: the one guy gets himself an ulcer and a nervous breakdown; the other annoys even his devoted friends and parents.

Casting directors truly do know what they are doing. 

The Pleasure of the Non-Canon Couples

In relation to my post on Votaries about Ichabod Crane, I attempted to come up with a romance novel where the central romance is described by someone on the side. 

I used this approach in my tribute to Northanger Abbey. Henry and Catherine's romance is told by a bemused god of love, Ven, the male version of Venus. I chose this approach in part because it is the approach used by Austen: an acerbic semi-omniscient narrator writes about the vagaries of love and Gothic literature. 

However, such an approach isn't that common. Austen's other novels invest far more in the limited perspectives of her main characters. 

But the idea got me thinking of the romances that people love despite those romances NOT being the primary focus of a book/ show. For instance, I far prefer Monica and Chandler to Ross & Rachel in Friends. I know fans of Luke and Grace from Joan of Arcadia. And I've always considered Ryan's marriage on Castle (to his real life wife, Juliana, character name Jenny) to be one of the sweetest on record. 

These romances, in my opinion, are often used to satisfy viewers who are getting restless about the main relationship never being consummated (storytelling-wise). 

But I also think that sometimes the freedom of these non-canon or non-required marriages allow the writers more scope and insight. The non-canon couples ARE more fun than the central couples.

For the sake of comparison, I tried to think of "side" couples from manga and realized...

They often end up with their own series!

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. 

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
  

Absolute Equals: Two Appealing M/M Couples

One of my favorite Bones-Booth moments is when Sweets

insists that they do an outside exercise together. Bones & Booth

behave like mature equals, more than Sweets & his partner.

On Votaries, I discuss characters in books, good, bad, and...eh. 

Lately, I reached "C". I analyze Alice from Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll and Bren from C.J. Cherryh's Foreigner series. 

On this blog, I often comment on the same characters' love lives. Alice--despite various opinions about Lewis Carroll and Alice Liddell--doesn't have a romance, and Bren--who has an Atevi partner--is mostly concerned in the later books with politics and survival and friendships. 

So I am reposting about two romance couples, one created by KJ Charles!  

* * * 

Many romances employ rescue missions whereby one character decides to rescue/save another. The romances are about what one character can do for the other.

I'm not necessarily opposed to these plots, so long as I am left believing that the relationship is reasonably functional. Everybody got what they signed up for.

However, I admit, I absolutely adore those relationships where I believe that the relationship is equal, that the oddities of each partner have been taken into account and dismissed or fully accepted, that the author has in fact achieved a 50/50 balance (which is difficult in fiction and in real life):

Possible cover from Goodreads

Dominic-Silas

From KJ Charles's Seditious Affair, Dominic and Silas are equals despite the differences in background, education, and money. They both adore books. They both admire each other's honesty and goodwill, even if they utterly disagree over the other man's politics. And it all comes down to their ability to stand outside themselves objectively and accept the other person as he is.

Dominic likes to be dominated during sex. If Silas was an even slightly different personality, this aspect of their relationship would also be their downfall. If, for instance, Silas allowed politics to bleed over into the sexual arena, if he used dominance to bully, if he perceived Dominic's needs not as an individual quirk but as an opportunity to mock and deride, the relationship would falter and die within a few months. Silas would be the opposing side to Lord Richard's overly patronizing coin (Lord Richard is a good, flawed character).

Instead, to Lord Richard, Silas barks, "I said, you won't [make Dominic behave]. You've hag-ridden [him] for fifteen years, and I won't have you giving him another dose of what's wrong with him. It's not his doing I'm mixed up in this [seditious affair], and you, friend, you aren't making me into a stick to beat him with because you don't like his ways."

He defends Dominic. Dominic defends him. In the end, Silas will get his bookstore back. And he'll honor the person loaning him the money. And they will have the companionship they both desire.

The younger versions.

Diego-Mark

Many of L.A. Witt's Anchor Point novels revolve around military men with problems: PTSD, physical ailments, alcoholism, etc. Generally speaking, I appreciate how she often solves the issues without solving them. That is, the couple learns to deal--the issues don't vanish.

Diego and Mark have their issues. What I liked about Once Burned specifically is how willing Diego and Mark are to allow the other person to be different. Diego is not religious; Mark is. Diego is not military anymore (against his wishes); Mark is. Good grief, they even like different sports teams!

The issue at the end is not Hey, can you deal with my crap? The issue at the end, interestingly enough, is forgiveness, not of each other but of the past. Crappy things happened to me. Am I going to let that control my relationship with you? 

Individually, they both decide, No. 

When a Character Disappointingly Changes: Akihito in Finder

On Votaries, I write about how a specific set of illustrations can form the audience's view of a character. I also write about feeling betrayed by an author re: changing a character. 

Both issues express my reaction to the later volumes of Finder by Ayano Yamane. 

Finder was one of the first yaoi series I began reading. It's Rider Haggard meets BDSM and, for the first few volumes, mucho fun. A total fantasy! And the characters, Asame and Akihito, were originally quite distinct. Asame was the manga-version of a yakuza (see Dangerous Convenience Store for a more bittersweet take) while Akihito was the reporter/everyman who becomes his lover. 

Up through Volume 8, I was along for the ride. I'm less enthusiastic now.

First, the plot kind of went off the rails, leading, currently, to an amnesia plot. In truth, I once came up with an amnesia plot of my own for the series. I'm not too fond of the current version because what I wanted to see was Akihito returned to his regular life with Asami watching him from the shadows. Would Akihito still find his way back to Asami, despite his "hey, I'm just a normal guy who takes risks" photographer shenanigans? 

That's not what is happening. Instead, it is international villains and bombings and Stockholm Syndrome or something, blah blah blah. 

That is, Akihito is no longer that touchstone for everyday life. He's Mr. Victim or Mr. To-Be-Rescued.

Volume 9

Around the same time, Akihito suddenly got MUCH younger in appearance (and not in a funny chibi way). 

Now, I'm not one who criticizes manga series with child-looking adult heroes. Such illustrations are a form, a language. They have their own purpose.

Volume 6

But one thing I liked about Akihito, as well as his snark and his everyman morality, was his rangy, twenty-something build and face. 

Asami is in his early thirties (I believe that within the universe of Finder, they are both now about a year older than when the series started). The age-gap was wide-enough. Akihito didn't need to look any younger. 

I wonder if I'm the only one to complain--in the latest volume (which, yes, I purchased; I'm just no longer "collecting" the series), the color insert provides the older version of Akihito. 

Again, it isn't the underlying politics or social implications that bother me. It is that Akihito was a certain way, and I liked him that way. 

Now--he isn't Akihito anymore. Not as much, anyway. (There's a separate issue here about when characters undergo necessary change through growth--which I will address at a later time.)

Defending the Indefensible Relationship: Austen's Mrs. Clay & Mr. Elliot; Richardson's Mr. B & Pamela

On Votaries, I discuss unliked characters who end up with their own books. 

Unliked relationships are a little less likely to be defended. P.D. James did defend Withers in her Death at Pemberley but not because his relationship with Lydia had substantially altered. 

I defend two classic relationships, one negative in the original text; one negative according to later critics.

In Persuadable, Mrs. Clay pursues and married Mr. Elliot. I basically make them low-key grifters who recognize each other's nature. They are attracted to each other, mostly because the people around them are so comparatively boring. 

Interestingly enough, although Jane Austen quite often ruthlessly goes after opportunists, she lets Mrs. Clay do whatever Mrs. Clay does. There's an entirely unspoken acknowledgement that women who marry for money or position or protection are, in fact, saving their skins. She treats Charlotte from Pride & Prejudice coldly but with understanding. 

The second relationship is Mr. B and Pamela in Mr. B Speaks! When Samuel Richardson's book was published, this couple was...think Brad & Jennifer, Taylor & Burton, the Twilight stuff. HUGE. Real churches rang real bells in celebration of the marriage. Sure, Henry Fielding mocked Pamela with Shamela, but most people were totally on-board. Mr. B and Pamelay WERE the eighteenth century's favorite couple.

Now-a-days, we look askance. Mr. B appears to stalk Pamela; he kidnaps her, harasses her, nearly (but doesn't) rape her, plans to fool her with a fake clergyman, and then, finally, marries her. 

However, I think that Richardson is a great example of a guy who thought he was writing one book but got too interested in something else. He gets too interested in the debate/repartee between Mr. B and Pamela. 

Those conversations, when shorn of their eighteenth century verbiage, strike me as something one hears on The Thin Man. 

So I set out to explain and justify that relationship. 

(Persuadable & Mr. B Speaks! will be republished by Aurora & Bob Press in 2025.)

The Fun and Fallible Female Love Interest

In Lloyd Alexander's The Chronicles of Prydain, Taran falls in love with the sharp-tempered, adorable, outspoken and somewhat out-of-her-depth (at least initially) heroine.

In general, manga and anime do this character type better than Hollywood. With Hollywood, the "I'm too independent for you" aspect begins to wear thin. Even Eilonwy, Taran's love interest, grates some. She is funny with a few great lines. But she always seems to be right, even when she truly shouldn't be (gatecrashing a military action), and she is regularly dismissive of Taran, even if she does it defensively. (I don't remember my reaction to the character when I was younger; I was more enthralled by Taran and by Gwydion than by Eilonwy. I do remember that I liked her in the third book the best.)

In comparison, manga and anime present this same character as hapless AND effective at the same time. Check out Kasahara from Library Wars, who is somewhat spastic and committed to her career and brave and rather innocent.

And then there's Sophie in Howl's Moving Castle: tough and whimsical and unsure and efficient and passionate. Wry and adorable and real all at the same time. (And it occurs to me that Miyazaki would have done a beautiful job with Alexander's series. Perhaps his studio still could.)

Anne of Green Gables, of course, is the Western answer--in both the books and Sullivan's first series. And Anne is wonderful. But she is difficult to replicate. Off the top of my head, one exception I thought of is Amanda Bynes in the Shakespeare-inspired She's the Man. She is a decent comedian and willing to do physical comedy where she falls over her own feet. 

Another exception, surprisingly enough, is Ziva of NCIS who has a somewhat similar--if much more inherently violent--personality to the anime/manga female characters. She also has a notable internal arc.

That sense of whimsy makes all the difference. And a great actress. And having a storyteller--Bellisario--at the initial helm.

Classic Romance Trope: Bring the Unsuitable Suitor Home

Is she his sister? Really?

Agatha Christie's "The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding" includes a classic romance trope--bring the unsuitable suitors home and the son/daughter will realize how unsuitable they really are. 

Frasier, in fact, used this trope with one of Frasier's last girlfriends. She is SO awful (rude, dismissive, inattentive to others' news), Frasier realizes what a mistake he has made. 

However, the approach only works if the son/daughter isn't (1) smitten; (2) looking for a way to tell off the family; (3) thrown into the unsuitable suitor's arms because the family is worse. 

In Clouds of Witnesses, Dorothy Sayers includes dialog between Mary and Mary and Peter's mother. Before the War (World War I), Mary was dating George Goyles, a Communist agitator, who turns out to be so entirely self-involved, he leaves Mary to face a corpse on her own. Mary is eventually disillusioned by him. But not until she actually thinks he didn't care about her getting murdered. 

My image of Peter's mother.

Early on, George Goyles invited himself to the house to meet the family. Mary's mother, the Dowager Duchess, reports the event:

"He invited himself down one weekend when the house was very full, and he seemed to make a point of consulting nobody's convenience but his own. And you know, dear [to Mary], you even said yourself you thought he was unnecessarily rude to poor old Lord Mountweazle."

"[George] said what he thought," said Mary. "The present generation does."

"But all I remember saying to Peter was that Mr. Goyle's manners seemed to me to lack polish and that he showed a lack of independence in his opinions."

"Perhaps you didn't say much about him, mother, but Gerald said lots--dreadful things!"

"Yes, he said what he thought. The present generation does, you know. To the uninitiated, I admit, it does sound a little rude."

Despite George being rude and Mary's mother unimpressed and Gerald, her oldest brother, outraged and disparaging, Mary didn't change her mind. In part, she was too smitten. In part, her brother George's pompous behavior only made George look not so bad (and rather underscores the idea that people date what they are used to, making it lucky for Mary that Inspector Charles Parker decided to pursue her). 

On the other side, the unsuitable suitor can learn and change. So Tom Selleck's Elliot in Mr. Baseball doesn't turn into a Japanese man but does adapt to Japanese cultural expectations during a visit to his girlfriend (and boss's) home.

Scrooge versus Phil: Personal Change versus Romantic Change

The repentant hero is quite popular, especially at Christmas! In terms of romance, there is a marked difference between Scrooge from A Christmas Carol and Phil from Groundhog Day. 

Although Scrooge lost a great love--the scene earns a song in The Muppet Movie--few versions reunite him with that great love. Likewise, The Grinch doesn't start dating at the end--not in the picture book or animated feature. And although Russ from The Kid has a girlfriend/wife waiting in his future, his change is due to a visit from a "ghost of Christmas past," not the potential significant other.

Yet, the repentant hero in Groundhog Day does have a romantic attachment.

The difference lies in the character arc. Scrooge and The Grinch and Russ undergo an internal realignment. The internal change is shown through external images and events. The stories are quite remarkably well-told. 

With Groundhog Day (also a great film), the change is about the main character learning to get along with other people.

Scrooge alters internally and shows that internal alteration through his treatment of others. 

Phil learns how to change internally by treating others, even a life insurance salesman!, better over time (one day over and over).

I think that both types of change/epiphany are possible. Romance is more suitable to the second type than the first. The Beast learns to be less beastly by spending time around Belle.  

Scrooge learns to be less awful through forced personal reflection. 

Lifestyles Matter in Love: Rear Window

The idea that love can overcome any barrier is nice in theory. In reality, it is less than practical.

That doesn't mean, love can't overcome differences in backgrounds, family, social standing, economic disparities, educational experience, and future goals. But if members of a couple think that declarations of affection are enough, they are kidding themselves. 

In Rear Window, Jeffries argues that (1) Lisa wants him to change (she implies he could change by becoming a society photographer, which, of course, he would loath); (2) Lisa isn't prepared for the life he leads. He is entirely correct, at least in that moment. The exchange also produces one of the best lines by Jeffries: "I'm just trying to make [my lifestyle] sound good." 

They come together over the case. Lisa is daring and clever. Moreover, the script implies a few times that she is not entirely enthralled by her shop-lunch-get-quotes-from-celebrities lifestyle. She may in fact be up for jaunts in the wild. 

Which doesn't mean Lisa has subordinated her personality. She still is greatly interested in fashion, which world can be cut-throat in its own way. 

The relationship could possibly work if both parties accepted that certain things they do are off-limits. So Jeffries visits warlords and takes pictures, then returns to Paris where Lisa is easily navigating political and personal minefields within the fashion world. He attends a show. And then they both go to, say, the 1956 Olympics or the first interfaith meeting in Morocco or a session of the House Un-American Activities Committee. 

In other words, I don't think Lisa should be hanging out around the Suez Crisis with Jeffries. It has nothing to do with competence or well-meaningness. It has everything to do with experience. And I rather suspect that Jeffries' sardonic comments may not go over terribly well with Balenciaga (though fashion designers are fairly tough), especially since it is doubtful that he would have any  idea what he was talking about. 

They could be a working couple, who each respect the work the other does partly alone.

The Scarlet Pimpernel: Do Spies Make Good Spouses?

Anthony Andrews' Scarlet Pimpernel is carried to a huge extent by Jane Seymour's vibrant beauty and Anthony Andrews' exceptional skill at bravado and insouciance. Unlike the book, the story starts with the courtship, and the question immediately arises: Why would a sharp-witted actress marry a seemingly shallow idiot, if not for his money?

Without abandoning the character's vapid cover, Anthony Andrews manages to give Sir Percy a hint of something deeper when he is around Marguerite. He is boisterously happy to woo her and lets her believe that there is, in fact, "more" there.

 

When they marry and he comes to believe that she sent a family to the guillotine, he retreats entirely behind his adopted persona. Marguerite rightly perceives him as hiding from her. But the lover is still there.

 

This double or, rather, triple face is only possible because Andrews is that good. He manages to give Percy an aura of sincerity no matter what he is doing. When Marguerite complains that she can't confide in him, he is truly upset. He manages to convey that underneath all the frippery and shifting attitudes, a base personality remains.

 

Generally speaking, however, I don't buy it. The history of spies reads like the history of die-hard grifters. Le Carre's version of spies--and for that matter, Andrew Robinson's Garak in Deep Space Nine--is much closer to the truth. In one episode of Deep Space Nine, Garak keeps telling stories to the doctor, as if he were four or five different people: soldier, friend, traitor, exile. All of them are true. All of them are lies. 

 

The slipperiness of an entire personality being constantly in "code" doesn't bode well for a relationship. Though it may be true that one person can never totally understand another, the sheer bewilderment of a person never being one thing--no base personality--would make it difficult to go forward with that person...

 

Unless, of course, the lover LIKES being in love with a chimera.

 

Loid [using Crunchyroll's spelling] and Yo are exceptions here, of course, since they are decent, family people who just happen (oops!) to be a spy and assassin rather than a spy and assassin who are trying to pretend to be decent people.