Dragons: Poking Fun at Established Tropes

On Votaries, I discuss how dragons tend to create "meta" fantasy--that is, dragons tend to create fiction that comments directly on fantasy tropes. 

Eliot Grayson's Deven and the Dragon is a case in point. Deven and Fiora meet in the Rose Garden. Fiora--little though powerful; beautiful but not in any typical way--is horribly self-conscious. So he wears a cloak and insists on trying to appear in faintly mysterious circumstances.

Big, handsome, faintly teasing and take-life-as-it-is Deven is confused. It's hot out: why wear a cloak? And what does it mean when someone claims his name means "born of darkness"? Whose parent would ever name their child that? And what's up with the claim that they are meeting in darkness anyway? It isn't so very dark. And not all that quiet either since the kitchen side-door was left open and the cook is yelling at people.

It's a hilarious encounter, which is made more hilarious by how effortlessly Grayson pokes holes in particular tropes by calling upon a familiarity with those tropes. As Fiora, the dragon, thinks to himself, "[Dragons] brooded in solitary and majestic dignity--and yes, occasionally while complaining to their stewards while hiding in a closet...[b]ut mostly when sitting atop a turret under a cloud-obscured moon, contemplating the futility and sorrow of life."

It reminded me of several scenes--from Angel, Psych, and Castle--where too cool-to-be-believed men try to slide effortlessly over the hood of a car--you know, like those guys from The Dukes of Hazard--only to find that it is actually WAY too much work.

And it reminded me of Tanith Lee's marvelous Dragon Hoard, which pokes fun at recognized tropes--while also appreciating them.  

To put this another way: Dragons never get dull. 

Move Over Hallmark: Cherry Magic!

 Cherry Magic

Cherry Magic! Thirty Years of Virginity Can Make You a Wizard? is a hilarious slow-burn romance. 

Adachi is the 30-year-old virgin. He is a good guy (very much so) who has a lower opinion of himself and his social skills than he should. Kurosawa is the gorgeous, tall, socially adept marketer at the same company. (Actually, both actors are rather startlingly beautiful men to watch.)

When Adachi gains the ability to read minds--when he is touching someone--he learns, to his astonishment, gratification, and consternation, that Kurosawa is utterly smitten with him. With his new knowledge, Adachi is able to make the leap and date Kurosawa--which doesn't stop him being continually flummoxed. 

Sometimes, he is too freaked out to know how to respond. Often, after making contact, he realizes that he misinterpreted Kurosawa's actions and reactions. Far more, he moves to make Kurosawa or another person feel better, a character trait Adachi had before the magic. Like Shino in Seven Days, he is the "straight-shooter" of the relationship, despite Kurosawa being better with people generally.

Absolutely helpful!

The two spend a great deal of time together, emphasized in the series when Kurosawa helps Adachi prepare for a presentation. They also spend time on dates at an amusement park and at various restaurants. One of the funniest parts of the series is that Kurosawa is far "mushier" and romantic than Adachi. The dates he imagines in his head are so over-the-top, Adachi is actually as much amused as freaked out.

The actors have good chemistry and convincingly portray a couple that after initial hurdles (and the requisite break-up) function well together. There are also many delightful, slice-of-life moments in passing. When Adachi and Kurosawa go to see Tsuge's young friend dance, Kurosawa is unnerved when a youngster (18 or 19-year-old) refers to him as "uncle." He isn't a vain man, yet he is shocked to realize that he is now an "older" (albeit handsome) man.

He and Adachi confer about Tsuge and handle the issue through easy conversation and agreement. It is believable that despite Adachi's inherent reserve and uncertainty and Kurosawa's intense feelings, they will make a go of the relationship.

I found Tsuge and Minato's relationship a little less believable in the television show than in the manga (where it is still unwinding). However, as in the manga, that relationship is strictly incidental--and has its insightful and amusing moments. 

In sum, the slow burn here is not--as it so often is in Hallmark--simply a short-hand way of saying, "Oh, look, our lovely couple met. Aren't they wonderful? They make jokes! They like each other! Okay, that's enough reason for them to get together." 

Good slow burn, in BL and elsewhere, IS the plot. It is the complications of the couple trying to communicate. It is the heartache. And it is character development. It isn't about keeping the couple apart. It is about proving why they should be together by watching them together.  

Move over Hallmark: Slow Burn Romance in Live-Action BL, Seven Days

Slow burn romance is common currency in BL and in Hallmark--the primary couple meet and slowly get to know each other. Hugging and kissing may not occur until nearly the end of the movie. 

BL is far superior.

Seven Days: Monday to Thursday and Friday to Sunday

Shino Yuzuru asks out Seryou Touji. Shino is the Japanese Donny Wahlberg version of a high school student. He is boy band cute, so he gets asked out a lot. But his girlfriends have been fooled by his looks. He is, after all, Donny who will grow up to be Danny: a straight-talker who goes at things head on, not a poster boy for romance.

In a "what is the point of dating when I keep getting dumped--what's it supposed to be like anyway?" moment, Shino asks out Seryou who has a reputation for only dating a girl for seven days. Seryou treats the girl like a princess, but the relationship never outlives the week. Seryou is, in fact, overcoming a terrible breakup with his brother's on-again/off-again girlfriend and is unaware of this go-along-then-break-up pattern--at least, initially. 

The two ultimately realize that they want to date beyond a week. Despite the usual frustration with slow burn (the desire by the viewer to reach through the screen and shake people), the trope works here. 

For one, although Shino assumes that Seryou will end the relationship on Sunday, and Seryou is mostly convinced that Shino is joking, both young men take their dating seriously. They take breaks at school together. They walk to the train station together. They plan outings: eating Ramen and buying shoes and going to a movie, where Shino falls asleep. And Shino demands that Seryou go to "club" (they are both in archery). Shino is in fact older and is able to make the demand (Seryou uses "senpai" and "-san" with Shino).

They aren't just two guys hanging out, however. Seryou waits for Shino every morning at Shino's gate. When girls ask Seryou whom he is dating "this week," Shino frankly says, "Me." (Nobody believes him.) They also kiss at least once mid-week, indicating that both young men perceive what they are doing as something other than a "bromance."

And they demand faithfulness from each other, even before they understand what they are feeling about the relationship. They expect the other person to give up time, to answer their calls, to not go off with someone else.  

It's a rather extraordinary case of an experiment working since the parties are truly committed to finding out where the experiment will go. 

Their meetings, unlike in Hallmark (which movies always seem to deliver a plethora of family members, pets, shopping, and such), are not simply "meet cutes"--checked boxes which indicate that the couple has undergone the required number of flirtatious conversations. 

With Shino and Seryou, the time together--however inconsequential (lunch at Burger King, for example)--means something. Despite their mutual uncertainty and growing fear of being hurt, they last the seven days. 

Not only do Shino and Seryou get to know each other, they learn to function together. They accept each other. They "like," in all senses of the term, each other. They are complementary.

All show! Very little tell!

Dating Tropes: Friends as Family & The Apparent Angst of Dating Nepotism

In a prior post, I discuss friends who discover they wish to date. One variation within this trope is the family friends who discover they wish to date.

That is, the best friend of a brother or sister will start to date the brother or sister's sibling. 

This is (1) not that unusual; (2) seemingly fraught with emotional angst. 

1.People buy products, join churches, and marry based on networking. "You know me" is still the most effective way to get people to do stuff (my friends and neighbors do it too!). 

Consider that although Bingley obviously doesn't assume that his sister and Darcy are well-matched, he isn't opposed to the idea either. After all, the world of Austen was a cornucopia of nepotism. People did often marry people related to people that they knew. Jane Austen herself was proposed to by the brother of good friends (who impressively remained good friends with Jane after she turned him down, which tells me that knowledge of personality overrode social pressure even then). 

2. Despite it being a commonplace occurrence, even in Jane Austen's day, the plot "you, my best friend, are marrying a family member" comes with ready-made angst. 

It seems rather odd. After all, families were and are constantly trying to match up siblings and cousins and, if Parent Trap is any indication, parents. So why would it be so upsetting?

Based on the contemporary versions of this plot, the angst seems to arise from the level of knowledge of both parties. Ross is upset about Monica dating Chandler until he realizes that they love each other; this isn't just another case of Chandler waffling over women. 

Likewise, in Austen's oeuvre, Captain Harville is supportive but somewhat upset about Benwick marrying again (after being engaged to his sister) since he thought Benwick's emotional connection to his dead sister would last longer. He is objective but still bemused. 

That is, the family needs to adjust because they are experiencing a kind of cognitive dissonance: But we never saw you two together! Why now? 

In historical fiction, this cognitive dissonance is compounded if there is a social gap. 

In real life, Austen lost the young man of her youthful flirtations (who many years later still exhibited a tendre for her) because his family needed him to marry well. Lady Catherine de Bourgh is horrified by the idea of Darcy marrying Lizzy, whose family is supposedly below her own (it isn't). In M/M literature, Richard from the Society of Gentlemen series by K.J. Charles balks at taking his valet as a lover, not, interestingly enough, because he thinks he is too good for the man but because he takes noblesse oblige and his duties of rank seriously. 

Apparently, the family friend as lover comes with ready-made conflict. From a writing point of view, it lends itself to a workable narrative arc.  

Dating Tropes: Is Friends to Lovers Entirely Believable?

In the previous post, I discuss lovers who discover they are also friends.

What about the friends who discover they want to date? Is it believable?

Beauty and the Beast is supposedly the quintessential example of this: friends followed by passion. However, with few exceptions, nearly every "Beast" I've seen or read about is bursting with animal magnetism (quite literally): it's never entirely believable that Beauty felt nothing until she said, "I do."

There's a writing problem here. In contemporary romances, the reader starts thinking, "Seriously, these two friends NEVER thought about the possibility of dating? It just kind of struck them NOW?"

It's an attractive notion, in large part because it allows for a narrative arc while explaining away the lack of a prior relationship. (If the couple did previously throw out the idea of dating, it is difficult to shake the unsettling notion that one friend is now settling or taking advantage: All my other relationships stank. You'll do.)

However, there are a few narratives with this approach that work:

Yup--This is before they became a couple.

Chandler and Monica: Yup, I found their relationship believable for several reasons. For one, they met each other during Monica's teen years. Chandler's few extra years in age and Monica's self-consciousness over her weight established Chandler in the role of "Ross's college friend," and roles can be quite powerful. They are good friends when the show begins AND (from a writing point of view) the writers prepare us for their eventual relationship. It was a surprise but not a total surprise.

Beauty and the Beast does work--it just doesn't work as effectively as romance lovers like me like to believe.

Orlando and Jonti from Cochrane's Cambridge Fellows Series: Orlando is a kind of Sheldon figure. It takes awhile for his body to get on board with his mind.

One variation of friends to lovers is "Not friends but knew each other because you're my best friend's younger sibling" (see Monica and Chandler)--I'll save that trope for another post.

Dating Tropes: The Date Itself

Of course, courtship is not exclusive to the contemporary world. The world of the past needs it too.

M/M Romances, frankly, have an easier time here--and no, that isn't a political statement. It's a writing one. Two men (or two women) in the nineteenth century could go out and do something together, rather than sitting around a drawing room or a ball (it did depend on the economic class).

In "Introducing Mr. Winterbourne" by Joanna Chambers, the men fence. (Boxing was also an option.) In The Ruin of the Rake by Cat Sebastian and in A Minor Inconvenience by Sarah Granger, they go horseback riding (which was actually an acceptable "date" between a man and a woman, so long as it was horseback riding in the park). In An Unusual Courtship by Katherine Marlowe, the men check out an archaeological site without a chaperone.

I admit to getting the biggest kick out of the turn-of-the-century dates: people still go to movies and diners and on picnics!

Transport has always been dangerous!

On the other hand, it is also very amusing when a trope gets turned on its head. In Cat Sebastian's The Soldier's Scoundrel, two nineteenth century men take a drive out of London. Ah, a drive through the countryside--how pleasant and romantic! Except carriages back in the nineteenth century didn't exactly have shock absorbers and other modern conveniences. People could get quite nauseous. Londoner born and bred Jack HATES it.

Luckily, he and Oliver are on a case--otherwise, date over!

Of course, considering the number of murder mysteries I deal with, dead bodies do have a tendency to pop up during these dates.

Dating Tropes: Funny First Dates

Dating discussions in contemporary romances can be summed up in one sentence:

"Dating stinks!"

The best of the contemporary romances will deliver a kind of comedy of errors surrounding the topic: better to laugh than to hide under one's bed.

Here are M/M examples:

Little Library by Kim Fielding: the date at the restaurant is a  maelstrom of classic mishaps, from the trope of spilled water (hey, it even happens to Randy in Home Improvement!) to too loud confessions to interrupting family members.

Good line: "Simon stared at the menu with a degree of concentration usually reserved for students taking final exams..."

"The Date" by May Archer: the date is confused by mistaken identity--consequently, an argument ensues even before the date begins.

"How to Howl at the Moon" by Eli Easton: there's an actual first date but in many ways, the first date takes place when Lance shows up at Timothy's place in dog-form for surveillance. Since Timothy proceeds to treat Lance like the cutest dog ever--and Lance is a rather starchy person who does not see himself in that way--Lance's long-suffering reaction is very funny and, yes, very cute. And dovetails quite neatly with what we all assume: My pet understands--and tolerates--me more than anyone human.

Great line: "He makes you dance." 
 
Many stories by Jackie North have a rather sweet, lightly humorous first date. There's also, "The Christmas Eve Craigslist Killer" by Jill Wexler, which is, in many ways, one long date, filled with clever dialog. I review it more here.

There is a line between humiliation and hilarity. In Twelfth Night, Malvolio's attempts to flirt with Olivia are pure humiliation. Although he (mostly) deserves it, it is still somewhat discomforting.

What makes the other above examples funny but not discomforting is that the characters use the mishaps and misunderstandings and rapid-fire dialog to learn more about each other. They problem-solve intelligently.

Dating Tropes: Dating Discussion in Pride & Prejudice

Re-post from Votaries, 2005

* * *

The popularity of Pride & Prejudice doesn't seem to be based on any particular yen for literary fiction or for Harlequin Romances. In Pride & Prejudice, Jane Austen caught something that is so basic to the human experience (and in particular, the female human experience) that the book almost couldn't help but be popular, even more popular now than when it was published.

I came to this conclusion while listening to Pride & Prejudice on CD. It is an incredibly funny book, although it helps to hear it read rather than to read it. (Some people hear language when they read; I do not--I scan multiple words at a time--so the experience of reading something to myself and of hearing it read can often result in two different experiences.)

Close to the beginning of the book, Eliza and Charlotte Lucas have a discussion, and knock me over with a bonnet, it's a discussion that you could overhear with any group of women. How well do you have to know someone in order to form a long-term opinion of their character? At what point in the relationship should you express interest? Who is responsible for carrying the relationship forward to the "next stage"? Can you be "just friends"?

Charlotte argues that getting to know someone is pointless; it's all so superficial anyway. One might as well simply express a ton of interest. Eliza argues that one can't express a ton of interest unless one feels a ton of interest. Charlotte points out that expressing a ton of interest is the best way to retain the man's attention. Eliza rolls her eyes over that. If the man has any hutzpah, he'll wait around to see if a ton of interest might be heading his way, won't he? Charlotte contests that men may have hutzpah but they are also kind of stupid. If one wants a boyfriend, Charlotte maintains, one has to go out and get one [pick one up at Walmart after waiting in line for 45 minutes]. But, returns Eliza, one doesn't want to end up with the WRONG boyfriend [or, she might have added, with a Mr. Collins who is hard to shake]. At which point, Charlotte gives up. If you're going to get all idealistic . . .

Charlotte ends up with a good living, a house and a pompous (but mentally absent) husband. Austen rewards Eliza with true love. After all, Austen had Charlotte's opportunity and forsook it for the sake of her integrity. That is, even when she ended up with nobody, Austen still opted for Eliza's point of view.

And despite Charlotte being somewhat right, we still root for Darcy and Elizabeth because their relationship is founded not on flirting techniques, "twenty ways to amuse one's boyfriend" and "what women really want" fluff, but on themselves. Although they undergo personal revelations about their own characters and each other, neither of them has to jump through dating hoops for the attraction to work. Darcy is attracted to Elizabeth from the beginning because of her personality. Elizabeth realizes she is attracted to Darcy when she visits his estate and learns what a great manager he is. It is what Darcy & Elizabeth already are that eventually brings them together.

Connections to M/M Romances will follow...