Complaints: PDA or Non-PDA Does Not Equal Ethics (Either Way)

Years ago, I knew a women with two kids under five. Her husband was a supremely nice guy who looked like a pirate or Loid from Spy X Family, only the husband was dark-haired. She was extraordinarily easy in her own skin--very relaxed--not at all prim and proper. 

And she disliked Personal Displays of Affection. 

She reminded me of Frasier who complains when he is expected to hug non-family members at work, just because it is their birthday. (See below.)

She was also a very straightforward person, so she would say, like Kitty in Elementary, "I'm still not a hugger..."

I'm saying this not because I'm a big hugger (or not) and not because I'm adverse to PDA in fiction. I'm saying it because I get highly annoyed when reviewers determine the moral worth of a piece based on PDA. PDA turns into (yet) another marker of something or other rather than a personal idiosyncrasy/choice.

I discuss elsewhere why I don't consider PDA or the disclosure of body parts to automatically be immoral. Here, I'm going to address the other side of the equation, reviewers who complain because characters don't kiss or don't kiss enough or kiss only when the screen fades to black. 

I don't mind a reviewer who says outright (and some do), "I love to watch people make out. It's great! Give me more!"

I dislike reviews which whine because the lack of kissing is repressed or homophobic or whatever.   

I read erotica and watch what Asian television deems "R" (by American standards, it is fairly PG). Again, I have no trouble with body parts. 

I also believe that particular pieces call for particular approaches. 

Filmed versions of Jane Austen have some excuse for PDA since Austen was quite deliberately letting behavior rest between the lines. But I don't hold the non-PDA versions against them. For one, Jane Austen was well-aware of sex scandals. She kept them "off-screen" in her books because they didn't interest her, not because she couldn't write about them. A movie that does the same matches her tone and focus. 

And two, writers who can't create sexual tension without resorting to lots of PDA aren't very good writers (or, to be fair, don't have very good actors). 

Tone and focus matter. Some reviewers criticize Yuri On Ice! for not showing the kiss "on camera." I consider these reviewers have entirely missed the point. One, the sexual tension between Yuri and Victor is so strong and so obvious...do viewers really need some kind of checklist? Not exactly "read between the bolded lines" aficionados, are they? 

Two, the show isn't primarily about the intimate relationship. It's about the relationship and ice-skating and ambition and other skaters. 

Such reviewers will applaud an anime that shows men kissing "for the first time"! And from an "art as social purpose" standpoint (which standpoint I personally detest--there are other venues for people who want to turn everything into a lecture), they can make a case. But if the anime with the kissing people is badly written and drawn (it isn't--it's Cherry Magic and is quite good...but...), then the anime doesn't get a pass.

Likewise, it shouldn't get criticized for NOT having PDA. 

The work should be judged for its entire self: tone, theme, plot, characters...that stuff, that literature and film stuff. 

Art still matters for art's sake. 

Complaint: Unthinking Reviews (on Viki and Elsewhere) With Unthinking Terms

Several decades ago, about the time Bug's Life came out, lots of Hollywood scripts produced characters who underwent the epiphany: "I want to make a difference!"

I hated it (and got sick of it). What does "I want to make a difference" even mean? Serial killers make a difference. Con artists make a difference. Politicians think they make a difference. So what? 

I understood, even then, that the statement was a kind of short hand--a way for the scriptwriters to produce an epiphany that would hopefully connect with a zeitgeist. After all, not every cliche is evil. 

I still despised it. It was a throw away line and it was rarely followed up by, "Uh, exactly how am I going to do that?" 

It was, in other words, a kind of performance: look at me and all my deep meaningfulness!

I recently tried to read reviews of the very popular Thai BL series TharnType. I'm not a fan of the series, mostly because I don't buy the ending. *Spoilers* The antagonist to the central romance turns out to be a sociopathic, Machiavellian-type character whose behavior is partly excused at the end for its passion and the character's later regret. 

I found the entire plot-line entirely unbelievable, not because sociopaths don't exist but because 

(1) if that character did exist, the entire show should be about that character (see Dexter); 

(2) no way would that character exist otherwise: no 20-odd-year-old young man is that calculating unless something else is going on: see (1). If he isn't calculating but emotionally on-edge, he would reveal himself long before episode #whatever.

Out of curiosity, I skimmed one-to-three-star reviews on Viki, looking for anyone who actually addressed the plot and character development. 

And I was reminded why I don't usually read reviews.

Instead of discussions about personality types and dramatic license, I found review after review in a tizzy about the first few episodes. Nearly all of the negative reviews used the phrase "toxic relationship." Some of them resorted to "problematic." Others used "offensive to the LGBTQ+ community."

It was tiresome and meaningless. I couldn't help but wonder, Did none of these reviewers read the other reviews before they posted? Why are they simply repeating what other people wrote? Do they actually think they are communicating anything at all? 

Do they believe what they are writing? Such as the assumption that all members of the LGBTQ+ community are apparently interchangeable? If I was part of that community (and I challenge the idea that any "community" exists so seamlessly), the assumption of sameness regarding personality and attitudes would offend me a great deal more than Tharn coming on to Type, who supposedly hates him but never moves out of the dorm room even when offered a bunk by a friend. 

I understand that throwing out such terms is easier--and ubiquitous. There's a reason I insist that writers back up their judgments--"It's beautiful"--with evidence--"Yeah, but what did you observe?" 

What amazes me is how few of the reviewers seemed to question what they wrote, as in "Here's what I think. Many people say the same, so here's my reasoning."

A great many reviews were in other languages. I pondered if any of the other reviews stated, "Look at all those Americans--we can tell by the spelling--assuming they can tell us what we are supposed to think since they have extra-special jargon. Idiots." 

If I was a fan of the series, I would certainly dismiss the jargon-filled reviews as patronizing and irrelevant and possibly Western-American-influenced. (This type of "exporting our culture for other people's good" makes the desire to export democracy look tame in comparison.) 

But, hey, maybe all the negative reviews in other languages complained about the "toxic, problematic, and offensive relationships."

It's like watching the death of critical thought.

Complaint: The Right to Love is Not a Right

The people who love to create rules about everything have added another one: The right to love!

The phrase, unfortunately, does not refer to the right to love others--but to the right to BE loved ("love" as a noun, not a verb). 

My problem here goes beyond the ethical issue, but I'll attend to the ethical issue first. Any right that insists on other people's compliance--rather than the right-holder's liberty to pursue an end--is suspect. Defending someone in doing something is not the same as defending someone who will make other people do something.

 

There is a world of difference between the right "to work, speak my mind, and marry" and the tyranny of "other people ought to give me that job, other people ought to listen to me, and other people ought to want to marry me."

 

Love in relationships involves at least one other person. It's not a right.

 

The bigger problem, here, is the lecturing tone that creeps into romance stories.

 

The beauty of romance is the "falling off a cliff" quality, the unexpectedness, the marvel of soulmates discovering each other, of a relationship growing and working. Demanding it as some kind of "I was born--now the next part of life must occur" not only creates constantly dissatisfied people, it creates stories that true romantics would rather not read.

 

Suppose Jane Eyre goes to work for Mr. Rochester and when he declares his affection, she responds, "Well, of course. Based on everything I've been through, I deserve to earn someone's affection."

 

Or suppose that instead of being disappointed at Elizabeth's initial refusal--and learning something about himself as a result--Darcy responds, "But my suffering must be alleviated. I'm owed the love of a good woman."

 

Sounds pretty awful, doesn't it? 

 

So why is it being advocated?

 

I doubt the reviewers and writers who argue for "the right to be loved" are thinking about the characters themselves. The characters should doubt, then act relieved and happy and elated when their love is returned, when they find someone who speaks on their wavelength. 

 

Except the reviewers and writers then declare: Let that be a lesson to all of us! The characters got what everyone should get.

Inevitably, the latter attitude will creep into the writing. Characters begin to lose their sense of personal responsibility. They act put out when things don't go their way. After awhile, they begin to resemble spoiled brats who mustn't be challenged by life or by others. Giveme giveme giveme. 

 

One reason I read manga and resort to Asian BL as much as I do is because the sense of "wow--a relationship actually happened to me--isn't it wonderful?!" is still present. As well as a sense of personal responsibility. In comparison, on occasion, Western romance is a little too...

 

Self-satisfied. 

 

Where's my romance? Hasn't it arrived yet? Here are all the reasons I deserve one!

 

(There are good Western romances out there--just a whole lot of chaff to get out of the way.) 

 

It is impossible to invest in characters with the above mental framework--not outside of "here's a good little story where all the approved-of people are rewarded and all the disapproved-of people suffer" moralistic tale-telling.

 

I often feel that these particular romance writers are about two seconds away from lecturing readers, non-ironically, on HOW and HOW NOT to court real life people, especially those writers who produce non-humorous trigger warnings. Here's the list. Now, obey. 

 

Romance is big and human and random and risky enough to withstand this lessening of its fundamental power. But I make the protest anyway: 

 

Leave the magic of romance alone! Stop shoveling rules and tut-tutting on top of potentially good stories!

Complaint: Applying the Past to Us

On Votaries, I complain about chronocentrism here and here. A later post will complain about forcing contemporary morals back onto fairy tales. 

I feel the same about religious texts--and always have. 

That is, I learned early on at church that resisting "what does this scripture mean to you" lessons put me at odds with a great many people though not, thankfully, my parents. In fairness, it was a standard approach, not just in churches but at school. The "what does this passage from Shakespeare tell us about the modern world" was in vogue (proving that culture doesn't occur in compartments: trends are trends). 

I despised it. I still (mostly) do. For one, it inevitably took the scriptures (and Shakespeare) out of context. Scriptures were often so entirely shorn of their original meaning when I was a teen and in my early twenties, I wasn't sure why reading the scriptures mattered. One could do the same with a cereal box. I felt the same way when I encountered similar approaches in school. Why are we reading Shakespeare? Wouldn't something with fewer footnotes be easier--since we clearly don't care what Shakespeare actually meant?

Shawn and his dad challenging Ray Wise.

But the primary reason for my resistance is that the application-approach seemed (and still often seems) so entirely disrespectful to the past. I found myself in the curious position of showing more respect to, say, Noah, despite my doubts about his existence, than the die-hard/everything-really-really-happened believers. I was willing to allow for what I didn't know. I was also willing to allow for the existence of the person as well as the tale tellers, the collectors, and writers. I was willing to allow for the supernatural element. I was willing to allow that something happened to someone.

What I couldn't accept was the idea that Noah only ever existed to make a point--reducing the individual to a use. I didn't see Noah as a mirror to whatever I might be thinking that day. Poor guy. Why should he simply be grist in my ego mill? 

The "what matters is what it does for us" attitude has, of course, become immensely popular in the past few years on both the left and the right. It is easy to criticize the academic left's worship of theory (use) at the expense of historical knowledge and context and respect for the individual (since idiosyncratic individuals get in the way of slathered-on theories)--but the right should keep in mind: Some of us heard it at church or at relatively conservative schools first. It appears to be a human failing, not a political one.

Cosby again! After all, he treats Noah like a real guy--who would complain a lot: 

Complaint: M/M Writers Are Turning Characters Into Bullies

Don't get me wrong. There are good M/M writers out there. 

But lately a number of M/M writers have begun using their supposedly enlightened characters to work off vicarious bullying.

I recently read the latest tome of a series that I enjoyed--up until the latest tome. The other books are funny, clever stories with hilarious denouements. 

And then, in the last book, the authors decided that the main character was non-binary. 

I will be frank. The current emphasis on labels, such as non-binary, etc., is appallingly reactionary. It is more 1950s neo-Victorianism than the 1950s and Victorian Era. It is so entirely reductionist, I suspect it is promoted by people who are troubled by modern life and truly, in their heart of hearts, want a return to a world where male behavior is definitively MALE and female behavior is definitively FEMALE. 

As David French recently wrote, "[T]here’s a strange convergence between left and right on the matter of gender stereotypes. The stereotypes are too powerful on both sides. One side identifies what a boy or girl is 'really like' and tries to make all kids conform. Another side makes the same judgment and questions whether nonconforming kids are 'really boys' or 'really girls.'" 

I agree. Rather than "male" and "female" being expanded and explored and widened, these reactionary types prefer the terms to be so narrowed that anyone who is even vaguely outside the assigned definitions has to call him or herself something else. Heaven forbid that people should just be complex! Heaven forbid that a man like pink shirts, unicorns, and football. Wait, that means he is...THIS LABEL! Heaven forbid that a biological woman use "her" pronouns without first apologizing to the world for being "cisgendered"--or conceding, "No, I guess I'm actually something else. I will immediately adopt the proper label and associated thought-process."

What's worse is the thoughtlessness, what Ayaan Hirsi Ali refers to as a lack of critical thinking.  In the disappointing tome, the nature of the main character as non-binary excuses the character's behavior. The label--actually, to a degree, simply the self-belief or, even, the vague attitude--provides instant victimhood, so much victimhood, the character doesn't have to think through "who am I" as a personal struggle within the reality of social expectations and outcomes, a struggle that will lead to personal growth. The character also doesn't have to accept consequences or treat others well. The character needs to endure and then be accepted. 

From a writing point of view, the problem here isn't politics or social impact. The problem is bad art. That is, the result is not that dissimilar from Victorian morality tales. All tell, no show. The people with the proper ideologies and backgrounds succeed. They never have to defend themselves. They never have to grow up. They have the correct upbringing. They vote the required way. And they have the designated labels. The audience knows of whom to approve, who deserves love. Complexity of character and complexity of ideas take a backseat to never being wrong and never having to suffer.

In real life, there are intelligent, well-read, thoughtful biologists who question the theories associated with non-binary, etc. There are thoughtful activists who point out the possible ramifications, especially to feminism. In real life, there are conservative and libertarian gay men, some of them quite vocal. In real life, Bari Weiss exists.

One reason I write what I write is that my gay characters aren't labels or excused victims or representatives of a group. They are characters in a story, and they care primarily about their stories. 

They also aren't bullies, unless bullying is an inherent personality trait--in which case, the bullying is part of the character arc. They aren't "excused" bullies. Nobody gets to treat other people like trash based on a notion of "progression" or "advancement." 

Actually, some of my characters do that.

They are villains.

Complaint: Lots of Tell, No Show

The most basic rule of fiction is "show, don't tell." 

It's a good rule. Like any rule, it can be broken, but most of the time, it is good to keep in mind, especially when it comes to character development. 

I often give setting a pass (though not always) because a quick tell--It was a deserted farmstead--is infinitely preferable to six pages of detailed description. Hey, let's move on to the characters!

But with character development, it is truly not a good idea to tell  readers what they should think about characters, rather than letting (1) the characters' behavior tell readers; (2) other characters in the story tell readers. 

I read a great deal of M/M romance, and a large percentage of it is very good. But lately, even from writers I've trusted, I've been encountering "homophobic" and "bigoted" and so on and so forth scattered amongst the pages without context. The writers seem to think that I'll be so overwhelmed by the terminology, I won't notice the lack of "show." 

I'm not. 

Especially since, in some cases, I have zero idea why a particular character was labeled in this way. There seems to be some secret code that indicates who the bad guy is and who the good guy is--not, ya know, actual behavior or actual dialog. 

It's lazy writing. 

It also makes my skin crawl since it is like being back in high school where violation of a clique's "code" results in nasty comments.

And, by the way, nasty comments due to clique violation is exactly what it is. 

Bullying is bullying, even when dressed up in critical theory and used by people spouting appropriate doctrine. And yes, I apply that rule-of-thumb to conservative religious people as much as I do to progressive folks. Calling people names is rude. When the point is not to be rude (which has its place) but to tell the reader how to think, it's really rude.

The use of such terms also runs the risk of becoming instantly irrelevant. I recently picked up a fantasy book that used terms like "gender," etc. in a milieu that was supposedly ancient. It wasn't just that I thought the terms were rather silly for the milieu, I was instantly struck by how dated they felt. These are current terms used in our culture, and I thought, "Yikes! This reads like a novel from fifty years ago." 

Writers who try to "keep up with the Joneses" may find themselves further behind the curve than if they just ignored the Joneses in the first place.

Complaint: The Dumbness of Leaving Out Honorifics

One thing that irritates me to no end is manga and light novel translations that replace "sensei" and/or "sama" with "sir." 

First of all, it doesn't translate. No teenager talks like that. They do say "sensei" and "sama" but neither is, in fact, "sir."

The result is a translation that sounds forced. 

What further irritates me is how unnecessary the changes are. American readers readily embrace these titles and honorifics. Why leave them out? Is it such a crisis--from a publisher's standpoint--to have readers encounter "sama" and "san" and "kun" in the text? 

These are readers who happily adapt to reading from right to left, who seek out authors whose names they likely can't spell, and who embrace anime with English subtitles--

And their lives are going to fall to pieces because of the presence of Japanese honorifics and titles that anyone can look up online and most of these readers likely already know? 

Leave them in!  

Complaint: The Assumption That Women Secretly All Want to Be Bossed Around (Or Join Collectives)

As I reference in an earlier post, so much romantic literature is filled with alpha males.

I'll state upfront that I am completely supportive of alpha male romances (even if I prefer romances with sardonic heroes).

This post will address the common assumption that the plethora of alpha, domineering males in romance literature indicates that women have needs (or have been brainwashed to have needs) that only alpha males can satisfy. Even Radway argued that women are using romance novels with alpha heroes to question or negotiate with their patriarchal social training. It's the "popular literature is actually subversive, so I can study it" approach.

This assumption would only make sense if...

(1) Women didn't read Georgette Heyer and love her books (see prior post);

(2) Women didn't read Austen and love her books (see prior post);

(3) Heterosexual women didn't write and read M/M literature (which contains domineering as well as non-domineering male leads);

(4) All women read romances.

(5) All people reacted the same way to a single genre. 

Regarding these statements: 

(1) Lots of women are huge Heyer fans. She is still impressively popular (she wrote in the mid-twentieth century) and her books have recently been reissued on audio.

(2) TONS of women are huge Austen fans.

(3) Lots and lots of women read gay romance.

(4) Lots of women don't like romances at all.

(5) Despite disagreeing with some of Radway's analysis, I applaud her reader-response method. Her quotes from actual readers reveal that how people react to literature/movies/shows has an idiosyncratic element. They find that thing that appeals to them. They may then justify themselves using "acceptable" terms: scholars who truly care about reader response should be careful here.

The tendency for alphas to dominate M/F romance is likely due mostly to three factors:

1. Publishers' attitudes.

2. As in the Humanities, bad attitudes about the romance genre may push certain writers and, perhaps, readers away.

3. Alpha characters are useful. 

Publishers

Not THE cover but an example.

Publishers are kind of stupid. For years, publishers insisted that women were only reading romances to "identify" with the female hero and therefore, no cover could display just a man on the cover. It either had to be a woman or a woman with a man.

Then some brave publisher finally said, "Well, that's stupid," put a hot guy on the cover, and the thing sold like hotcakes.

Publishers are dumb. (Or rather, they are like smart sheep--they herd in the right direction but don't know why.)

Culture

Bad attitudes toward romances run the range from snide and misogynistic to condescending and rude--and that's just coming from the female critics. It's like being a conservative in a Humanities program. You either turn into Niall Ferguson or, if you're me and you hate arguments, you do your own thing and keep your head down.

I believe a lot of women turn to M/M romances simply to get the obnoxious critics off their backs, all the people (some progressive; some conservative; some men; some women) that insist, "All women are like THIS" and "Women only enjoy THIS type of stuff" and "Good women think and vote THIS WAY" and "Women SHOULD want this," blah blah blah blah blah blah. John Gray gone berserk.

The result is that the field is narrowed to women who are willing to put up with the crap. Some female writers will start out in romance and move on to mysteries/thrillers. And some of them can be rather nasty about their "low pasts." I don't read those authors.

But others, like Lisa Kleypas, are honestly enamored with the romance genre, frankly like to write certain plots and characters, and they thrive. And some, like Julia Quinn, whose Bridgerton novels were recently turned into a television series, give the genre its dues while throwing in alpha males, sardonic heroes and heroines, and more. They have intensely loyal followings, as the television series indicates. 

#3 to come...

Romance Writing Problem: Dreadful Rhetoric and Lazy Writing

Sometimes the taciturn brute gets the matter-of-fact Wren. This is the ending of Taken At the Flood (Agatha Christie novel) in which the Wren turns out to be a kind of Watson figure from BBC Sherlock. She likes danger.

The taciturn brute who gets the matter-of-fact Wren is one reason "toxic masculinity" is such a vile phrase. Imagine if "toxic" was attached to any other generalized noun, such as "femininity" or "animal lovers" or "ballet dancers" or "crossing guards" or "classical music listeners."

The phrase usually refers to men of a certain type: big, gruff, supposedly non-emotional, supposedly overbearing and aggressive, supposedly trained to only like certain occupations and sports, supposedly adverse to "correct-thinking" politics. 

Brennan challenges Sweets' assumptions about

Booth's emotions.

It isn't that one can never object to any of those traits/behaviors. One can also object to "flighty" and "frivolous" and "tearful" (characteristics sometimes applied to women). The problem is (1) people are more complicated than any of these adjectives/traits (I know many "manly men" who enjoy discussing their feelings--and many "flighty women" who have trenchant insights about people) and (2) there is nothing inherently evil/negative about any of the traits I have listed. 

American culture is rapidly heading into "thought police" territory--but we haven't quite reached it yet. (Though we do seem to have descended into high school, name-calling territory.) What people do with their personality traits still matters. 

Billy Melrose always treats Amanda with

complete courtesy even when she is off-topic.

From the perspective of the romance, sometimes people fall in love with the taciturn brute. And sometimes they fall in love with the flighty chick.

The true lesson of romance is not "only acceptable people get to fall in love." The true lesson of romance is "there's somebody out there for everyone."

So--SHAME ON YOU, ROMANCE WRITERS, WHO USE SUCH RHETORIC WITHOUT IRONY IN YOUR NOVELS! You aren't writing romances; you are writing dreadful political polemics. And you are falling back on labels to avoid the harder task of characterization. Lazy writing.

Remember the lessons of the "divine Miss M." 

Complaint: Bad Romances & The Sudden Solution

In a prior post, I discuss the difference between skanky and non-skanky erotica. Like the difference between skanky and non-skanky art, one argument I make is that skanky erotica comes across more like filler.

The basic premise of all art--even porn--is that there must be a narrative. The human brain is geared towards narratives, probably out of a need for survival (or fun or both). So any romance is going to have a mystery problem or a historical problem or a contemporary problem (someone is dying, someone is trying to save a town, someone is trying to reconcile with one's family, someone is dealing with a legal tangle).

Some of these romances are what I call trope romances, a collection of classic tropes and erotic scenes squished into a narrative thread. And the big give-away for pure trope romances is the ending.

In these types of romances, once the revelation occurs ("I love you. You love me.")--the story is over! That's it! No more!

I've read romances where the writers/narrators basically ended with the following throw away lines (I'm making up the words but not the endings):

"Oh, and then a few months later, we caught the murderer."

"And then we found a cure next year after we were happily settled."

"And then our families started to get along."

"And then the dam was repaired and the town was saved and the asteroid was diverted and by the way, Superman flew around the world backwards."

Okay, I made up the last one--but you catch my drift.

When I assign narratives in my business and academic writing courses, I instruct my students that they may tell a story about themselves but they cannot end the essay by talking about themselves.  They have to use the narrative to prove a thesis. And the conclusion of the essay has to be relevant to the READER, not to the self-absorbed, navel-gazing writer.

Fiction writing is not the same as essay writing, but the principle holds true:

Romance writers, if you create a narrative in which to hold your characters, you need to PAY IT OFF! (See Shakespeare.)

If it's a murder, solve the murder. If it's a war, wrap it up. If it's a terrible disease, find a cure or kill everyone off--either is fine but DO IT (i.e. SHOW IT)!

But ending the narrative when the couple declares its affection is frankly, obviously manipulative. It says, "Oh, you, the reader, are only reading this for the love scenes. You're such a dopey romance reader. You don't care about good stories. You only want your HEA. As long as I give it to you, you won't complain."

I do like HEAs. I am a dopey romance reader. And I will complain if the story arc stinks.

Complaint 5: Using Labels Deterministically

The RISD professor is the dark-haired character; the blond is

the stockbroker. I may have been thinking "Alex P. Keaton."

--Honami illustrations from Stolen Heart

One story I came up with a number of years ago concerned an Eyre-Affair type world (no virtual reality for me--like Fforde, I prefer to have characters actually enter a novel).

Here's the story: A couple of teenage girls in pursuit of their teachers override safeguards to set a compilation romance novel in motion; fifty or more people from the general community are dragged into the novel and stuck there; engineers have to figure a way to get them out, which takes several months. The romances are variations on a-couple-stuck-on-an-island.

It turned into a saga involving at least a dozen relationships of different types and ages. And one was between a male art professor at RISD and a male stockbroker. They seemingly had little in common until they started talking (everything comes down to dialog in my stories) and discovered that as teens, they had both rolled their eyes at the well-meaning adults who were establishing LGBT--now LGBTQetc.--groups in their schools.

Vivian Vande Velde tackles

the classic MMORPG idea.

I couldn't write my saga partly because okay, yes, this idea has been done before. (Out of sheer love of the form, I think every writer/video game player invents the idea of a "real" fictional world at some point.) And partly because I got worried about making assumptions based on my limited experience. In the world of labels, I am straight. Who was I to determine that LGBTQ groups were the equivalent of every single group I encountered as a teen that was supposed to make me feel "special"?

The same worry haunted me when I wrote Aubrey, which centers around a type of abuse I have never experienced myself (my life is far less dark than my fiction).

However, one of the positives of aging is that one runs up against more people from more backgrounds and ways of thinking. I have reason now to believe that my original supposition about LGBTQ groups was not entirely out of bounds. Sure, like all support groups, they can do some good, but--

There's a point where labels stop being helpful and become limiting. They stop providing comfort/personal insight and start justifying restrictions. Failure to comply brings out the Borg that is inherent in any group.

Sexuality is complicated, even within LGBTQetc. Take metrosexuals. Take E.M. Forster who clearly indicates in Maurice that gay men do not come as a package, producing Maurice who ignores the obvious, then accepts his orientation; Clive who seems to take a Hoover-like attitude towards his sexuality; and Alec who seems to be bi- though inclined more towards men than women. Take contemporary reports of "coming out" which dovetail more closely with Forster's own experience/observations than the Orwellians would like to acknowledge (see below). Take research into the animal kingdom, which presents sexual experimentation as a norm across the species. Take recent survey information that indicates that few Americans label themselves as anything but heterosexual (self-labeled homosexuals constitute approximately 5% of the population) yet a surprising proportion of the heterosexual population reports greater flexibility in terms of attraction. And the list goes on.

Waru is quite frank--and funny--about its

"straight then gay" character, Joe.

In other words, labels often ignore the complexity of human nature.

My complaint has to do with those reviewers who criticize supposedly "straight" male characters in yaoi who end up falling in love with men. I understand the confusion and address it, to a degree, here.

What I don't get is the wrath some of these reviewers feel. They seem furious that the LABEL isn't being adhered to. How dare people not stay in their designated spots! How dare anyone imply that sexuality isn't a GIVEN! (Apparently, within the LGBTQ community, "bi" receives some of the same fury.)

Considering that even apart from labels, people age, experience an increase in hormones, a decrease in hormones, alter their patterns, undergo new experiences, change their habits within a relationship, outside of a relationship...the insistence that even within a label, people will go on behaving the same is flawed in the extreme.

And don't get me started on the Orwellian tendency to try to use language to dictate morality--as if a label can create a biological response--such as the coy substitution of the vernacular self-label gay with the prescriptive same-sex-attraction.

All this "why don't people stay put according to their designations" angst underscores my belief that the offended left and the religious right are similar in nature as well as rhetoric.

As P.J. O'Rourke once wrote, "Why not call people by their names?"  

Complaint 4: What's All the Protesting For? Male Claims About Romance

Male analysis of yaoi specifically and romance generally will often contend that real men, straight or gay, do not think like the male characters in these genres. (I've encountered this claim in manga and romance analysis by self-labeled straight and gay male readers.)

Okay. I am mostly willing to go along with that, partly because as a woman, I'm not in a position to argue and partly because I tend to see yaoi characters (at least) as archetypes and tropes anyway. (They demonstrate characterizations common to archetypal characters as well as gendered characterizations, as I will address in another post.)

Yet I confess to being somewhat flummoxed by the insistence. The whole androgynous thing leaves me a tad nonplussed, yet generally speaking, I don't find the problems and worries and desires of romance and/or yaoi male characters to be all that different from those of male characters in, say, Shakespeare. Or Homer. Or, for that matter, Oscar Wilde and Walt Whitman.

On the modern end: take Gus and Rusty from Major Crimes. Major Crimes is the brainchild of producer James Duff who is married to Major Crimes actor Phillip Keene (they lived together since 1993, marrying in 2013).

The orientation of Major Crimes producer & husband-actor doesn't guarantee the reality of any of the show's fictionalized relationships--this is television after all. My point: Rusty and Gus have never struck me as any less real than other television relationships. Neither do they strike me as substantially different from the yaoi characters that I encounter in my choice of manga. The same issues crop up: 

Worries about work versus time together. Jealousy. Selfishness. Commitment. Levels of commitment. Sacrifice--or not. Uncertainty. The need to hear, "I love you." Issues over PDA and other issues related to physical intimacy. Discussions about the future. Moving in versus not moving in. Wondering "where we are at." Wondering about marriage. Not wanting it. Wanting it. Approaching the relationship from different angles. Different personalities. Different styles of expressing affection. Wanting different things. Moving at different speeds. Feeling bereft. Hurting when the relationship goes bad. Missing the other person. Wanting the best for the other person. Getting irritated at the other person. Growing "old" together. Falling into patterns. Feeling comfortable with everyday routine . . .

I recognize and care about all these things. Am I truly supposed to believe, as some men so urgently insist, that men don't care about them too? Despite The Importance of Being Earnest, Romeo & Juliet, Rusty & Gus? So Jean Cocteau just--what?--produced Beauty & the Beast (1946) by accident?  Of course, Cocteau was bisexual. But what about He Said, She Said, the movie with Kevin Bacon and Elizabeth Perkins in which the man's story, directed by the husband of the female co-director, is more romantic than the woman's story even as it tackles similar issues/concerns?

Parsons-Spiewak

When, in October 2013, Jim Parsons called his relationship with now husband Todd Spiewak "an act of love, coffee in the morning, going to work, washing the clothes, taking the dogs out—a regular life, boring love," he was . . . lying? Because that sounds like a good life to me, a woman. And remarkably similar to the yaoi I read. Not to mention other romances.

The first English romance, Pamela, was written by a straight man. The stupidest yet possibly most famous romance novel Lady Chatterley's Lover was written by a man who showed tendencies in both directions. And then there are those lush, emotion-filled (and often depressing) novels by E.M. Forster, who was definitely gay (I know women who swear that no movie has ever been more romantic than Room With a View and Maurice isn't that far behind). Finally, there's the book I've never read (leading to the movie I've never seen) but know about anyway because of its ubiquitous presence in our culture: Love Story by Erich Segal (husband to wife Karen; father of 2). 

Another classic couple: Kate and Petruchio

Some of the sappiest descriptive essays I've read were written by young men about their girlfriends.

And some of the most practical, everyday relationship advice I've encountered was written by men.

Consequently, I am eyebrow-raising confused when (some) men--straight and gay--claim emphatically that men don't care about all that romance-relationship stuff that women get so obsessed about, don't think about it

Thanks to Ed for reminding

me how many of these couples

were created by men.

the same way, and certainly don't have the same interests/concerns/ideas/attitudes as those men in those books that women like.

It is true that women write and read more romance (by a fairly hefty margin), including paperback Harlequins, shojo, yaoi, and gay literature, but literary interests don't translate into life interests. In general, women being more interested in romance supports less the idea that men aren't interested in relationships and more the idea that women tend to be more language-oriented while men are more visual-oriented.

I'm beginning to think the male doth protest too much.

Complaint 3: Not as Advertised

Beginning of semi-rant:

Reviewers sometimes complain, "The publisher labeled this yaoi when it's not!"

When I first started collecting manga, I couldn't fathom this complaint. Manga is manga. If the volume is a good story or contains good stories, who cares about its type? (I feel the same way when reviewers complain, "This collection contains shojo. I only read yaoi!")

On the other hand, I can understand feeling manipulated by a publisher. The "yaoi" designation and cover of Wild Butterfly, for example, imply that this volume is a collection of yaoi tales.

It isn't. Not even a little bit. The cover story is about a teacher and student during war-time who struggle with issues of pacifism. The teacher and student are not lovers and do not become lovers.

Another story in the collection could possibly be designated yaoi but it's vampires, so, eh. ("Vampires" fall into the same category for me as "space opera." It covers everything.)

The problem is not that I felt gypped; the volume cost $4.00. And I'm not so limited that I only read one type of manga. The weirdness is why the publisher sold the volume as something it isn't. It seems to me that "yaoi" would be harder to sell than "adventure" or "fantasy."

On the other hand, the yaoi readership--though relatively small (yaoi comprises 1/8 of any manga shelf at any bookstore that even carries manga)--is passionate, well-read (for the most part), and voracious. Perhaps marketing to a known audience is more effective than marketing a difficult-to-designate volume to . . . just anybody.

But that makes the above cover less "mistaken identity" and more "cynical marketing." Any company has the right to cynical marketing, but I personally think that company should hide it better. Go ahead and cynically market to me--but be clever about it!

End of semi-rant.

Complaint 2: Suddenly Vanishing Manga Series

I made the mistake of thinking this series

was only 2 volumes. It's not. Ahhhh.

Beginning of rant:

I HATE making my way through a manga series only to discover that the very last volume hasn't yet been published in English.

What's worse is I can't even complain about it. I am fully aware of all the entirely comprehensible reasons why manga series abruptly trail off, from publishers folding to the expense of translation to the expense of amassing the magazine-published shorts into one volume in the first place. And I am immensely grateful to those publishers who actually believe there IS a market for Japanese manga in America.

So, I know, I know, I know.

Still, it is so irritating! I WANT the third volume of Rabbit Man, Tiger Man! And yes, okay, Blue Sheep Reverie has a kindof ending in Volume 6 but I would really, really like to read the rest.

And what the heck happened to Maiden Rose? (Though to be fair, the 2 volumes sync together quite nicely theme-wise.)

Then I remind myself how difficult it was to get even mainstream manga twenty years ago--and I sort of calm down.

Until another series I'm reading ends abruptly! Ahhhhhh.

On the upside, the following volumes are coming out in 2017:

Spiritual Police, Volume 2
Finder, Volume 8

So it does happen!

In the meantime, many series' volumes are available in German or French! But be careful: the publishers don't always admit it (at least not on Amazon). I had to look up Vassalord on Wikipedia to make sure all the volumes after Volume 4 hadn't been translated into English. (And my French isn't that good.)
 
End of rant.  

Update: I now own the entire series of Rabbit Man, Tiger Man, volumes 1-2 in English, the remaining volumes in Japanese (hooray for Amazon.jp). I was able to more or less follow the plot though I'm sure I got various details wrong, and it helped that I knew the basic story already. Here's to hoping that eventually some American company decides to translate the entire series: I can find out if I am right!

Complaint 1: Photonovels

Star Trek photonovel

Beginning of rant:

I hate photonovels.

Photonovels are graphic novels--and manga--in which the panels are selected scenes from an already extant movie/series.

Howl's Moving Castle, of which I am quite fond, has a photonovel series. It makes me very sad.

The problems with photonovels ares (1) one might as well watch the movie or episode. I suppose if someone was stuck on the edge of civilization where one couldn't even get movies on one's phone (which nowadays, yeah, people can), the photonovel might serve a purpose. Otherwise, why bother? Why not engage with the real thing?

(2) The scenes are selected to remind the reader of the original story, not for artistic value. 

Manga art can be incredibly clever and evocative; one comes away with a slightly different interpretation of the story based on the artist's choices, from point of view to perspective to additional text.

So, for example, even a manga that follows a series (rather than preceding it), if drawn, can still deliver a different feel. Reading such a manga volume--Library Wars, for instance--provides the reader/viewer with a new "take," like seeing a classic fairy tale in different garb (another of my favorite hobbies is retold fairy tales). One comes away expanded, fulfilled, entranced, and thoughtful.

The photonovel doesn't provide a different perspective and even the perspective it does provide is rarely artistic or connotative. That is, the person who slapped the photonovel together isn't carefully selecting or editing particular scenes to tell the story in a unique way. (Hey, let's present the movie this way!)

The photonovel is not all that different, really, from pasting pictures on a sheet and flipping through them, so they move. Doing so would be far more engaging than reading the stupid thing.

Okay, end of rant.