Why Yaoi: It's a Lifesaver as Nozomi Fujisaki Knows

In Cherry Magic, the live action series, Nozomi Fujisaki is a good friend to Adachi and one of the few who figures out that Adachi and Kurosawa are a couple. She is a happy single woman who understands his desire to step outside the "norm." 

In the manga series, Nozomi Fujisaki, also a friend to Adachi and Kurosawa, is a BL fan. 

Both versions make Nozomi a marvelous character. I analyze the character in the live action version here.

I appreciate the manga series Nozomi for the final page of Volume 11.

I can entirely relate. Without going into personal details--been there. There is something simply soul-destroying about the growing number of people in our society who think their job is to issue commentary on other people's lives/personalities, whatever direction that commentary is coming from. "I have an opinion and a label and psychological analysis, which I have the right to deploy because I'm offended that everyone isn't exactly the way I want them to be" has become not an exception but a norm (and, again, it is applied across the board).

Why does Yaoi/BL stop the death spiral? 

I think people seek out particular novels, poems, movies, visual arts as comfort in not-so-great situations. Yaoi/BL specifically offers romance without the cultural insistence that any woman who loves romance must be indulging in wishful thinking: time to haul out the opinions and labels and psychological analysis. Okay, there are people who still think that. But the carping voices stay at a distance because the reader knows better: 

We love Yaoi/BL for the story and the characters. We love Yaoi/BL for the constructive positive view it takes of relationships and the universe.

That type of artistic appreciation still exists.

Why Yaoi: Perception of Ease

As referenced in Conversations with a Translator, Hana-Kimi is a cute manga series in which a young woman, Mizuki, dresses as a boy to infiltrate a boy's school and meet her crush, Sano. 

Unknown to her, Sano figures out she is a girl within the first volume. But he doesn't tell her, so the ruse continues for the next 23 volumes. 

Not exactly Twelfth Night in which the clueless Duke Orsino doesn't figure out his attendant's identity as a woman until face-to-face with her twin. But within the same ballpark. 

I tackle hidden identities of a similar nature in Richard: The Ethics of Affection. 

What's the attraction?

Part of it, of course, is the attraction of the "reveal."  

But part of the attraction, I postulate, is the girl-dressed-as-a-boy gets to relate to her male lover as a boy. It must be easier! 

In a very funny scene in Last Man Standing, the remarkable Nancy Travis gives a wistful speech about how easy lesbian couples must find a relationship. 

The truth, of course, is that all relationships--especially with the addition of sex and long-term commitment--take effort and involve misunderstandings. House presented a singularly bizarre and clever episode in which one member of a lesbian couple wants to leave. But she develops an illness and one of her organs fails. Her companion is the only one who can offer a successful organ replacement, and the ill woman doesn't protest. House is contemptuous of the self-serving attitude of the ill woman. However, it turns out that her companion knows that her lover plans to leave. She intended to give up her organ to keep her girlfriend with her forever. Except, the illness is the result of her gift, a dog with the bubonic plague.

Confused yet? Welcome to relationships. 

Still, the perception is that it must be easier for women to relate to women and for men to relate to men, and historically speaking (and biologically speaking), this is to a degree true. Friendships still follow these patterns, despite protests from purveyors of abstract theorizing. (Alienating humans from their animal-mammal selves by forcing abstract opinions back onto the physical self is one of the most unsettling heartaches of the early twenty-first century.)

But it's rather like comparing the way dogs chase cats while cats, in some households, put dogs in their place. Sure, dogs might relate more easily to dogs and cats to cats. They both still understand each other better than the strange humans who feed them. 

Solving the individual relationship (this person and that person) is always the burden of romance. And every relationship has its own oddities and problems, just as every relationship in history--despite, again, abstract theorizing and labels--had its oddities and problems. Every person is ultimately a person--a mammal, individual person. 

Romance & History: Setting in M/M Romances

In my Votaries re-post, I state that one of my criteria for romances is...

It can't take place in Scotland, the Wild Wild West, or the Middle Ages.

Interestingly enough, this is where M/M romances have made a difference.

With traditional (M/F) romances, I can never shake the idea of how freakin' cold everything is in those settings. Although I grew up reading--and being read--The Little House on the Prairie books and have a high opinion of these books, I was never once in all my childhood attracted to the lifestyle.

I've met people who are--I've even read a very honest and humorous book about being obsessed with the Wilder milieu.

I never felt that way. Perhaps, I was too close to it. I have pioneer ancestors on both sides of my family. Their stories never inspired me to pull a handcart or wear dresses full-time or camp out on the plains. Mostly, they made me grateful that I would never have to do any of those things.

So traditional romances where women in skirts freeze to death never drew my interest (nope, not even Outlander: I read the first book; that was enough).

Yet I have read a number of M/M romances based in Scotland, the Wild, Wild West, and the Middle Ages.

I think the reason is two-fold. As I mention elsewhere, part of the attraction of yaoi is the objective distance it affords. I get to read about romance without feeling any kind of "this is me" identification--from me or from condescending "bet you wish you were Elizabeth" outsiders. I write, in length, elsewhere about why I don't think that kind of identification is wrong or unusual. I also make the point that not all women read romances with identification in mind.

The second reason that I happily indulge in M/M romances set in Scotland, the Wild West, and the Middle Ages is a reason I address several times on this blog: the men in these books have jobs, specifically jobs that allow them to move around.

Don't get me wrong: my female pioneer ancestors worked REALLY REALLY hard (harder than I work, however exasperated I get with online courses these days). And a large number of women within my heritage were able, due to polygamy, to move beyond hearth and home.

It remains a fact, however, that men could move further and do more--which doesn't mean they also didn't die from the cold. But generally speaking, I find it easier--and quite enchanting--to focus on Murdoch trying to put his estate in order and David trying to figure out a law case--Robby trying to outwit the gangsters by running West--Anthony and Sebastian maneuvering to survive Queen Elizabeth's court--

Traditional romance must by necessity--and historical accuracy--entail necessary (vital) jobs performed by women, which are important but not that interesting, even when thrown up on a pedestal. And they always seem to involve people being very, very cold.

Modern heating is a wonderful thing. 

Assumptions About Singles #5

I've always said the human race is broadly divided into

angels & trolls. Believe me, the angels don't always get

the best of it; when beautiful people fall in love with

each other, they'd better be sure it's not because

they're beautiful people. When my wife and I

fell in love in 1953, we were both pretty ugly

customers. That's how we knew it was real.

Assumption #5: A pretty woman should be married. 

Over the years, I've had so many women say this to me about other women, I've had to conclude that it belongs in the category of single-envy.

That is, over time, I've realized that the women who voice this assumption (to me, a plain single woman) don't realize they are being insulting. Although the corollary is And obviously you are not married because you are plain, these critical women honestly aren't thinking that far ahead. It isn't that plain women can't get married--it is that pretty women should be married.

In other words, goes the thinking, in the world of competition over supposedly limited resources, a pretty woman has such an advantage, squandering that advantage is downright selfish and bizarre.

I understand that there are men who feel this way about pretty women, but I tend to avoid associating with those types of men--at least the ones who are vocal about the collective supposed failings of women. I don't see how the above assumption about women is any different than assuming that a man with a good job/money ought to be married. (Jane Austen's vocalizing of this assumption is purely ironic.)

Frankly, people are more complicated than that.

Unfortunately, if I avoided the number of women who embrace the above assumption (and the accompanying assumption about men), I'd be avoiding too many women to be able to function in society. (I've never understood why some feminists think that a matriarchal culture wouldn't bring with it as many problems as a patriarchal one. People are people.)

And it makes me feel sorry for pretty women--honestly. And it brings to mind the awesome quote by the wonderful Trevor Peacock in Jonathan Creek (see above).  

Clare London's books deliver

idiosyncratic heroes, often in

humorous situations.

In any case, this assumption is another reason to read M/M literature. Sure, M/M romance talks a great deal about male abs and muscles and cuteness and hotness, etc. etc. etc. But there is a surprising--and thankful--lack of assumption.

That is, M/M literature is full of references to different types of bodies and appearances. Some male protagonists are hot. Some are ordinary looking with good bodies. Some are ordinary as in ordinary. Some are nerdy. Some are "bears." Some are very masculine. Some are delicate beauties. Husky. Tall. Short. Beards. No-beards. Preference is a real and human thing.

In traditional romance (M/F), the issue of prettiness v. non-prettiness must be addressed, even when the writer disagrees with it. Story realism comes up against story idealism--one possible reason that F/F literature discusses this assumption as much, if not more, than M/F literature. Why isn't the pretty woman married!?

Some writers will make the Look, anyone can do whatever anyone wants as long as it is harmless and legal! argument, which is much appreciated. Unfortunately, some writers will resort to the Oh, it must be because she's soooo damaged argument, usually as fodder for plot points.

I much prefer to read novels where "damage" is not so tightly connected to appearance. (Actually, I prefer to read novels where the damage isn't so deep.) Because, in reality, there are many reasons for a person to be unhappy. And neither plainness nor prettiness is a guarantee of anything.

Things are never as simple as the assumption.

Why Yaoi: Celebrate Differences

It has become unfashionable in some circles these days to note the differences between men and women, to suggest that such differences are more than social constructs--and therefore, perfectly acceptable to note!

After all, we humans note many differences throughout the natural world--to our endless delight: the differences between summer and fall, the differences over time as leaves in Northeastern North America change, the differences created by the first snowfall. We note differences in appearance, in personality, not just between humans but between our pets. Naturalists naturally note differences within animal species, including the male and female of the species.

For that matter, a doctor who indifferently failed to note the differences between male and female patients would be lazy at best and sueable at worst. 

And yet there's a push to downplay these differences for a variety of reasons. One reason: differences so easily move from observation to judgment, extending outward to include behaviors that have nothing to do with biology at all. It is also very easy for these judgments to move backwards--this is how one ought to behave.

So the observation Women give birth becomes Women are better with children becomes Women are emotional and subjective (like children), not intellectual becomes All women are extroverted cheerleaders who like solving family problems which becomes If this is your label, you should consider nursing, not firefighting.

Or the observation Men are stronger than women becomes Men are better at protection becomes Men are tough and unfeeling becomes All men are gruff weight-lifters who fight rather than talk which becomes If this is your label, you should be watching action films and considering a career in business, not teaching.

There's nothing wrong with being a cheerleader. Or a gruff weight-lifter. There's nothing wrong with going into nursing. Or business. Or fire-fighting. Or teaching. But the assumptions can become irritating and flattening.

However, differences between women and men at the biological level do have ramifications at the behavioral level. In a free society, more women do in fact choose to go into teaching and nursing, that is, people-oriented professions.

Like with genetics, so many factors come into play, I argue that it is best--in the day-to-day--for people to treat each other as individuals.

That doesn't change the inherent fascination that men and women have for each other, in all their variations. I would argue that the "cliched" male interest in lesbians is a fascination with women pushed one extra step: If one woman is interesting, why not two? 

And I would argue that the sometimes derided female interest in gays is the same: If one man is interesting, why not two?

There is a sexual component here. But it likely originates in something even more basic. After all, the male and female of a species are stuck together on a single planet: one figuring out the other is part of survival.

The great thing about M/M romances is that unlike mainstream M/F romances--which tend to use Darcys and Thors with the occasional Loki thrown in for fun--the males in M/M run a full range of possible male protagonists from slender effeminate cutie-pies to brash sports heroes, from wily politicians to skeptical and exhausted advisors (see panel), from close-mouthed business owners to geeky adorkable computer guys, from sarcastic artists and inventors to heroic and/or traumatized military men.

That is, the best M/M romances (and yaoi) explore the male of the species whilst supplying variation within that biological reality.

And the more you read, the more variation you get! 

M/M Romance and the Focus on the Individual

In a review of The Country Alpha: Veronica's Story by Penelope Peters, a reviewer (in a positive review) makes the following comment:

I've switched to almost exclusively reading M/M romance these days, and this story helped me figure out why. It has nothing to do with genitalia - the sex scenes in both books were equally hot - and everything to do with the baggage that society brings to M/F interactions. There's a scene where Veronica rages at how arrogant and entitled Jake is, and it just made me tired, because her rage had less to do with him as an individual and more to do with society power imbalances. If Veronica had been a male omega, I don't think that scene would have fatigued me as much, since Alpha/Omega is a fantasy world. I also suspect the author might have written [it] a little differently.

In the Alpha-Omega universe, male

and female omegas bear children.

Before I continue: I like and highly recommend Penelope Peters' Omega, Non-Shifter Universe novels. I have a kind of hate-fascination reaction to Omegaverse novels. So many of them seem to be settled by maudlin scenes of reproach followed by overblown claims of protection and fidelity. Not my cup of tea.

Peters creates a fully functional, non-supernatural but imaginatively "other" world in which omegas, alphas, and betas behave like regular people dealing with contemporary life. And her books are funny. And character-driven. And clever. And have actual stories that do not revolve around an omega getting pregnant and then being rescued from singlehood by the alpha. (Nothing against that trope--just, it's a little substanceless.)

Like the reviewer, I read The Country Alpha: Ned's Story (the two stories are "sliding door" stories with the same alpha protagonist but different omegas--kudos to Penelope Peters for being creative and taking a chance).

I always saw Taming of the Shrew as the story of 2 people--

which is precisely why the BBC version works so well.

I gave Veronica's story a miss before I read the review. Then I read the review and started laughing. Why I gave Veronica's story a miss? The reason the review provides: "Veronica rages at how arrogant and entitled Jake is, and it just made me tired, because her rage had less to do with him as an individual and more to do with society power imbalances" (my emphasis).

The one awesome thing that M/M Romance does is focus on individual characters as people deserving of individual consideration--as opposed to characters as theoretical (and entirely abstract) constructions. A M/M romance is about how two individuals (more, if one is into polyamorous relationships) come to understand each other.

These two people--their issues, hobbies, delights, hang-ups, interests, backgrounds, perspectives, desires, inner and outer conflicts--are the point. Not what they supposedly stand for (and all the accompanying markers). They are people, not arguments. They are individuals deserving of empathy, not fodder for some (increasingly unhelpful) theoretical treadmill.

In M/M, if one protagonist decides to rescue the other, a whole truckload of offended "HOW DARE YOU! RESCUING IS SO SEXIST!" commentary doesn't came flying in from the wings to take over the dialog.

Likewise, if one character decides to behave in a tell-me-your-troubles kind of way, an entire sneering discussion of "YOUR GENDER: ALWAYS INTERFERING AND ASKING QUESTIONS IN THE NAME OF COMPASSION--WHAT A JOKE" takes a sideline.

John Lind--playing with gender is not the same as forcing

gender arguments on people. The better romances remember this.

It isn't that these issues don't arise at all. In Elin Gregory's charming spy novel Eleventh Hour, Miles is less than happy with Briers's assumption that Briers can criticize Miles's performance as an agent, then turn around and expect intimate activities. But instead of Miles's irritation being blamed on female game-playing--or Briers's assumptions being blamed on trained male dominance--the issues find their roots in the individual's personalities. That's where they come to rest. That's where they are resolved.

Not only is this approach less tiring (as the reviewer quoted above indicates), M/M Romance is far, far, far less boring. Forcing people to react to political rhetoric that categorizes everything and everyone is--let's face it--dull. Survival and compromise by individuals in the face of specific circumstances is far more interesting.

Related Posts

Why Yaoi: It's Less Exhausting

Star Trek Fan Fiction

Excerpt: Here's where yaoi becomes useful. When I asked myself, "How do I solve this relationship's problem?" I didn't have to worry about two specifically gendered arguments (that I have heard throughout my life):

(1) "A good wife would stay with her husband and support his career; after all, if he cheated while she was away or because she refused to go with him, it would be her own darn fault. He comes first!"

(2) "A wife should never settle for being 'barefoot in the kitchen.' Any good husband would understand and support her decision to find a great job; otherwise, he would be a domineering, controlling, and possibly abusive jerk."

Regarding this story, I simply had to keep the marriage together.

Why Yaoi: It's Less Exhausting

In my ongoing deliberations on why women read yaoi, I've so far proposed four main reasons: Reasons 1-4 (see below).

My reason here, call it Reason 5 (since so many of my extra reasons can be grouped together), deals with courtship rituals; namely, in nature (and humans are part of nature), men and women perform acts that indicate interest, a desire to mate. They dance. They call. They fight. They display their beautiful sides. They build nests.

This often entails competition with members of the same gender for the attention of an individual of the opposite gender. For humans, this competition is mixed with semi-awareness. The wrong attention. The wrong kind of attention. Disrespect. It all hurts. It can even be mean. Animals are more likely to kill each other than call each other names. Humans, however, can definitely think of another person as a jerk, picky, frigid, arrogant, etc. etc. etc.

It's exhausting.

At this point, I should make three points:

(1) It is equally exhausting for men and women. Speaking as a heterosexual woman, the advice that I received in my twenties--dress up, look nice, speak to the guy, be really really extroverted, get his attention, show interest--all of it was the intellectual equivalent of telling me to inspect the male gifts, applaud the winner, check and display my ornamentation, vocalize the right responses, and crowd out other women.

Likewise, men have to collect the gifts, make the advances, check out the ornamentation (appearances/signs of being fecund), come up with the right calls and lines, and crowd out other men.

(2) Although the animal world is obsessed with procreation, humans are not. Displays of this kind go on even when procreation isn't on the table, including on gay dates (even if the wiring isn't quite as evolutionarily ruthless).

(3) Many non-competitive people--I know plenty of them--find sexual satisfaction with a companion. We may be biological entities. We are not fated to be only biological entities. (And the truth is, within the animal kingdom, companionship, affection, and even monogamy do exist.)

Clever men and clever women make all these rituals work for them. Passionate men and women do too. Sometimes people fall into relationships. Sometimes the best match occurs at the best time for the best reasons (the "one and only" is a true possibility).

I have no argument with men and women who go out there and play the game and play it well. Kudos, guys! Congrats!

But I thoroughly understand the draw of yaoi and M/M. Referring back to the second point, it isn't that gay men (and I'm sure lesbian women--and transgender people, etc. etc.) don't flirt and peacock and form expectations based on internal requirements. But the literature is surprisingly free of it.

Note: I am referring to yaoi and M/M romance specifically, not gay literature. Maurice does involve more efforts at courtship. Both Clive, unconsciously, and Alec, deliberately and consciously, are in competition for Maurice's affection. Maurice has no idea.

Yaoi and M/M romance--despite tropes like jealousy and miscommunication--is blessedly absent the competitive need to either showcase one's right to be loved or applaud the other person's showcasing. In yaoi (occasionally, in M/M), specifically high school-based yaoi, the "mean girls" may pose competition to the less competitive of the males (Yoshida in His Favorite, for example). But since the more competitive of the males isn't in the running (despite what outsiders believe), the "mean girls" are noisy rather than effective.

And a huge amount of yaoi and M/M doesn't deal with the issue at all. Competition is off the table (except for the ordinary competition involved in work v. relationship, family v. relationship, etc.).

The characters are friends--which I will discuss in a later post.

Why Yaoi, Reasons 1-4: 

Reason 1: Women like romance; yaoi allows women to read romance without instantly suffering the indignity of being told, "You're desperate!" or "That's wish-fulfillment!" (At least not in America, where nobody knows what it is.) I tackle the issue of wish-fulfillment here and here.  

Reason 2: Yaoi takes gender roles off the table. It gets tiresome to be told, "This is what you supposed to think as a woman" (something that I hear as much from so-called progressives as I do from so-called conservatives).

Reason 3: Yaoi (specifically) allows single women (specifically) to read about people on the fringes of society who still work and function within society (rather than running off to live on an island and hate everybody).

Reason 4 applies to the writer side of me. Reading yaoi reminds me of when I first started listening to audio books. Hearing a book versus reading a book gives one a fresh perspective. As I listened to mysteries that I'd read dozens of times before, I began to "hear" how the plots were put together--how the various parts fit. Likewise, reading romances without the expected plot cues helps me see how romances work.

The Deathless Romance as Social and Political Statement

One defense of HEA (Happily Ever After) M/M (Male/Male) romances is that too many movies and books kill off the gay couple, and it's time for that to stop!

E.M. Forster makes a similar gleeful point in his notes to Maurice when he points out that if he'd ended the book with a suicide pact, it would have been embraced as great literature.

He's right though I must point out two flaws with this argument:

1. A huge amount of romance art ends with the death of the young wife from a wasting disease (Steel Magnolias, Terms of Endearment, Love Story, A Walk to Remember, everything by Poe and the Pre-Raphaelites, etc. etc. etc) and nobody is starting any petitions (so far as I know) to Save Pretty White Women! Okay, maybe when Buffy was on the air but other than that . . .

2. Unfortunately, and sadly, sometimes death does reflect reality. All writers are faced with the conundrum How do I make this story real but right? Yes, I prefer God's Own Country; that doesn't mean Brokeback Mountain doesn't happen.

However, generally speaking, I am not an advocate of death in stories, mostly because I consider it to be a big writing cop-out. It is far more difficult to solve a problem without killing people off.

Besides, the defense of HEAs in gay literature led me to ponder Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte. When they wrote their seminal romantic works, namely Pride & Prejudice and Jane Eyre (Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights is more old-school), they marked a profound social shift in the nineteenth century world. People were marrying for love--successfully--without apology or death.

Nowadays, we take this kind of statement for granted. We are even somewhat derogatory about it (since some people are still foolish enough to think sad endings are more realistic than happy ones).

In Reading Lolita in Tehran, Azar Nafisi explains why reading Pride & Prejudice in a dictatorship would be considered subversive even though the work itself rarely mentions the politics of its day. The existence of a proliferation of voices--speaking over and under each other, surviving side by side--is democracy in action. Austen allows Mrs. Bennet to exist alongside the Bingleys; Darcy to exist alongside Mrs. Reynolds; Wickham alongside the Gardiners. They all have different attitudes and characters and desires and opinions. Yet Austen doesn't kill them off. The novel is inherently tolerant.

Romance literature falls into this category. Yes, some of it can be rather shallow and silly. And some of it can be rather badly written. But hey, I know so-called great works that fall into both those categories. What sets HEA romances aside from everything else is that their ends are inherently constructive, pro-people, pro-individualism. It isn't just that the good guys win--the good folks let other people win too.

The Fantasy of No Control

Lately, I've been reading a large percentage of M/M romances. However, my personal advertisements (suggestions from Amazon that come up in my Cart)--which usually include manga, mysteries, and history books--began to suggest traditional romances (M/F).

I do read traditional romances, but I couldn't figure out what was triggering the suggestions. 

Until I realized--it was the MPreg books I'd read.

If one wants to pinpoint M/M romances where the characters might as well be M/F, MPreg would be it.

It isn't, as far I can tell, the pregnancy itself that makes the books so utterly traditional. Rather, the MPreg books I sampled reflect a particular type of traditional romance, a type that frankly I don't usually read.

The omega--pregnant male or, let's face it, female character--raises interesting issues about the biological reality of pregnancy. What irks me personally, however, is the thread of passivity that runs through the narratives.

These are old-fashioned Harlequins in which the female character is swept away by any of the following:

(1) A domineering male.
(2) A wealthy domineering male.
(3) A wealthy domineering male who brings out her wild side.
(4) A wealthy domineering male who brings out her wild side and doesn't leave when she gets pregnant.

It's the kind of thing that makes me want to read a book about a woman who was abandoned by the father of her child and had to go on welfare--and I don't even like those kinds of books.

I am a huge fan of people being able to indulge their fantasies in constructive, non-hedonistic ways; hey, I'm a big fan of not undermining civilization or the moral coding that helps it along so yay for conservative values plus tolerance and respect for mutual rights. But I admit to being more bemused by this fantasy than not (despite being a woman who loves romances).

I also must admit that this fantasy is incredibly seductive.

It is not so much about submission. The female companions who get overwhelmed by these wealthy, rich, powerful, utterly committed men (who don't bat an eye at an unexpected pregnancy) are often quite outspoken. Their arguments and claims of independence are rather tokenish, rarely seeming to end in the women actually walking away from the situation. But the men will often listen. And change. Sort of.

So submission isn't the name of the game. The name of the game, I suggest, is not having to take control in the first place.

That may seem like an odd fantasy for women since supposedly they have less control than men, but the type of control I'm talking about is the type of control a person has to take when they have fewer options, not many. As a person who lives mostly from paycheck to paycheck (with a little extra for savings), I have to control my spending. In my current situation, I can relax to a degree but in past years, I had to be far more careful, counting dollars to decide whether or not I could afford meat for dinner and which bills I would pay first. 

Taking control in these ways is part of adulthood. But the kind of constant control practiced by women--"I better watch my habits/behavior/surroundings because I don't want to get pregnant or end up in a dangerous situation late at night in a bar"--can be a relief to shed.

In fiction, of course. In reality, it would be really stupid. And not all women go for it, even in fiction.

I, for instance, prefer romances which are about bargaining with control: what's the compromise? But I can't deny that the fantasy of someone swooping in to pay off my student loan is appealing.

The Traditionalism of MPreg

One of the stranger romance sub-genres out there is MPreg, which refers to Male Pregnancy.

What makes it strange is not the world-building or the sci-fi nature of the pregnancy. What makes it strange is how entirely traditional, even 1950s traditional, it can be.

The entire sub-genre backs up my contention from an earlier Why Yaoi post:

The lack of pushy gender roles is one reason I can never be entirely snippy about those readers who like yaoi series with androgynous boys. For all I know, they turned to yaoi because they got tired of being told that they shouldn't be reading romance novels where girly girls get looked after by manly men. Yaoi is an escape not only from confining conservative roles but from pressuring progressive ones.

MPreg essentially puts babies and family first, to the point where "barefoot and pregnant" is not an unlikely scenario.

In one MPreg universe, the men who can become pregnant (omegas) also have to deal with prejudice, some of which I discuss here. They fight for the right to get degrees and have jobs and marry whomever they wish.

Ultimately, however, it's all about that baby. If this emphasis on child-rearing showed up in traditional romance, it would be subject to "holding women back/confining them to feminine roles" criticism.

I am an advocate of people being able to make of fiction what they will. That is, I think it is entirely acceptable for women and men to read MPreg romances for the sake of the classic, traditional motifs that put babies and family at the forefront of the human experience.

Having said that, after reading about eight of these novels, I have to admit the tropes are a little ham-handed.

So here is my suggestion for a MPreg novel. Has it been done before? Probably. But at least it doesn't include some of the tiresome tropes of the eight prior novels:

Simon is the alpha, the male who can impregnate. And he doesn't know it. Unlike nearly every other alpha in the books that I've read, he is not well-off, his family is not well-off, and nobody in his vicinity is a power-broker. He is a small-town guy who knows about alphas and omegas from the news but has very little experience with that world directly. "Coming out" was a huge deal for him and frankly traumatizing enough.

Rafe is the omega and unlike in every book I've read, he comes from a loving, supportive wealthy family. His fathers have a semi-arranged marriage (they had to sign off on it). It proved to be very happy (unlike in every book that I've read). Rafe has alpha and omega siblings and everybody gets along.

The parents settled money on each of their children at birth, so Rafe has his own income. He uses it to fund various educational programs, including an archaeological dig. He is not a dilettante; running charities may sound easy, but if a person actually takes a hands-on approach, it can be extremely time-consuming.

Rafe's parents suggest an arranged marriage for him, and he claims he isn't adverse (unlike every omega in every book I've read who feels personally attacked by the idea). In truth, in his heart of hearts, Rafe would love to have an ordinary gay relationship with someone--like Buffy wants to be an ordinary girl--but he knows how unlikely that is, so, eh, whatever.

The parents interview the prospective groom, Todd. Todd comes across as a decent human being (unlike every arranged-marriage groom in every book I've read). However, Rafe has to sign off on the agreement, so the prospective groom goes out to the archaeological dig that Rafe is funding and where Simon is working. Rafe is unaware, until Todd shows up, that his dads already put the arranged marriage into motion.

Simon and Rafe have started dating, which thrills Rafe since Simon doesn't realize that the extra pull he feels to Rafe is due to him, Simon, being an alpha. Rafe knows what is going on but doesn't tell Simon because he loves being in an "ordinary" relationship.

Seeing Simon and Rafe together does not send Todd into a jealous tailspin (unlike in every book I've read). But it does concern him. Todd's arranged marriage with Rafe is his last chance to live the jet-setting lifestyle that he has gotten used to. His family is tired of his dilettante ways. Either someone else takes care of Todd, or he gets a job.

It isn't that Todd is an alcoholic or a druggie or even promiscuous, all of which the fathers would have found out in their background check. It is that he adores being a sophisticated man of the world who jets around to different "events": skiing in the Alps in the winter; summering in the Hamptons, etc.

He doesn't understand that Rafe actually works; he thinks Rafe is like him life-style-wise. He mistakenly assumes that "philanthropy" is this cute thing that Rafe does between jet-setting, not something that actually involves Rafe reviewing proposals, checking budgets, and cutting off funds when necessary.

Consequently, Todd convinces himself NOT that he has "rights" to Rafe (like every other alpha in every book I've read) but, rather more problematically, that Simon isn't good enough for Rafe. At the core of this belief is a deep fear on Todd's part that without a wealthy marriage, he'll have to get a "job," and he has absolutely no idea what he would do--he probably would be able to find a decent enjoyable job on the board of something or other, but the whole idea is new and unknown, so it terrifies him.

Todd's sense that Simon is no good for Rafe increases when Rafe gets pregnant (which does happen, despite protection, in every book I've read--apparently, birth control in these alternate universes is sue-ably ineffective). Simon has no idea, and Rafe doesn't tell him. Todd understandably sees all this as irresponsible.

Eventually, Todd takes Simon out to the island or the dig or the desert or somewhere away from camp and confronts Simon with Rafe's pregnancy. Flummoxed Simon denies it, which justifies Todd in his own mind to be anti-Simon; he lashes out. During their fight, Simon falls. Todd leaves him, driving the jeep back to camp. Todd is a villain but he is the type of villain who convinces himself that not doing anything is not the same as actually doing something. "I didn't hurt Simon. It's his fault he fell. What can I do about it? Nobody will be able to get him out of that ravine anyway."

Todd is bad but not wholly evil. He feels terrible guilt and takes himself off to town for the day. So Rafe can't ask Todd anything when he realizes Simon is missing.

Instead Rafe realizes that to find Simon he will have to rely on his omega senses, enhanced due to the baby (this is in many of the books). He will have to tap into the part of him that is physically drawn to "his" alpha, not just his boyfriend. It's his internal climax, a block that he has to overcome. And he does it, and he finds Simon.

And Simon finally accepts the reality of a pregnant boyfriend (which happens in every
book) and Rafe and Simon get married (which happens in every book). And the baby is healthy (which happens in every book). And everybody is thrilled (which sometimes happens in every book).

Katherine Woodbury

Why Yaoi: Freeing Up Discourse

In a prior post, I remark that taking gender roles/identification off the table can help free up the writer and reader to think through the relationship problem.

For instance, in the case of one member of a couple asking another member to give up his/her career, I state the following:

Here's where yaoi becomes useful. When I asked myself, "How do I solve this relationship's problem?" I didn't have to worry about two specifically gendered arguments (that I have heard throughout my life):

(1) "A good wife would stay with her husband and support his career; after all, if he cheated while she was away or because she refused to go with him, it would be her own darn fault. He comes first!"

(2) "A wife should never settle for being 'barefoot in the kitchen.' Any good husband would understand and support her decision to find a great job; otherwise, he would be a domineering, controlling, and possibly abusive jerk."

I  lately came across a series in which some men can give birth. I have mixed feelings about the series, especially regarding some of the police procedurals that run the narratives (hey, at least there's a story!). But the underlying trope does raise the problem of pregnancy v. gender. As Camille Paglia continually points out, women have a biological narrative enclosed in their very systems: Have babies! Although she credits modern systems for producing methods which free women from their biological fate, she isn't too pleased with young women who don't take their biological coding seriously. Being able to give birth must be honestly faced and considered, even if rejected.

It is currently very hard to imagine a future world where the fact that women give birth wasn't a force in imagining or re-imagining gender roles.

And this would be true, no matter who was giving birth.

At least, this is the proposition of the above mentioned series. Men who give birth--omegas--have to contend not only with stigmas due to their sex and sexual orientation (men still do the  impregnating) but also, historically, with stigmas due to their supposed weakness and supposed susceptibility. They have suffered legal restraints (e.g., women in the past had to give up teaching positions when they got pregnant). They have suffered criticism when they haven't been able to produce children. They have had to fight to enter professions that include possible violence and been judged for placing themselves and a potential child in danger.

This is not, by the way, a male writer trying to claim all the hardships of pregnancy for men. The women in the novels, including the ones who get pregnant, discuss many of the same issues.

And it raises an interesting possibility: how much is biology, rather than so-called patriarchal systems, responsible for women being siphoned into roles as "caregivers" and "homemakers" and "the weaker sex." How much does protection of the species dictate those perceived gender roles?

Like Paglia, I think women (people) should question gender roles. Also, like Paglia, I think the questioning should take us back further than blaming a particular system. How embedded are people's assumptions? What exactly must be challenged? What exactly constitutes "good wife" and "good husband"?

Romance and Jobs (Again)

Contrary to some silly Jane Austen-tributes, being a landowner

(like Darcy) was a job. Hence, the grandfather's shame in

Little Lord Fauntleroy for not improving his tenants' cottages.

There are a number of well-written paperback romances out there ("paperback romances" being my term for what used-to-be called "Harlequins"--though they are now published by many different companies--in which the plot focuses on male/female protagonists).

What amazes me in my reading of M/M romances is not only how many of them are also well-written but how many of them are philosophically dense as well.

I'm not saying they rival Dostoevsky, but hey, I never got through Crime & Punishment anyway. Frankly, I like my stories stream-lined with strong characters, a seamless plot, and no "shoe shopping"  tangents. Tell me a story! Keep me entertained! And give me a little meat.

Good M/M romances deliver a surprising amount of meat.

I've determined that part of the reason comes down to something I've mentioned with manga: it helps if characters have jobs.

In historical paperback romances, the female leads sometimes have jobs (more on this later) but rather too often their (understandable and comprehensible) goal is to (1) get married; (2) not get married; (3) figure out who to live with if they don't get married; (4) avoid getting married, etc.

I'm being a tad sardonic; the truth is, these were real and valid issues for woman of the past, especially Jane Austen's time period, and novels that deal with those issues are doing justice to real concerns.

Still, there's something to say for books where everybody has to have an outside job/career, whether as a landowner (see above) or an accountant or a novelist or a sailor or an attorney or a professor or a bookseller or a bureaucrat--to name a few male characters' jobs from novels by Cat Sebastian, KJ Charles, Alex Beecroft, Joanna Chambers, and Charlie Cochrane. By necessity, the characters' jobs bring other forces, problems, and realities into play.

This may explain why so many women enjoy writing historical M/M.

It explains too why the paperback-romances-with-jobs stories often are the best within that sub-genre. Nobody did "the occupation of getting married" better than Jane Austen. Still, it's nice to read something like Romancing Mr. Bridgerton by Julia Quinn where the heroine's job as a gossip rag columnist arouses both concern and jealousy in her suitor's breast. He is worried about her reputation if the truth comes out (a lady, she writes under a pseudonym); as a fellow writer, he is also jealous of her success, no matter how hidden from the world. His jealousy surprises and alarms him--and causes him to rethink his own long-term goals.

Marriage and the relationship is one concern. Other issues--what constitutes a life? how does one measure success? what kind of work is worth doing? what does it mean to do something 'well'? whose needs and desires should a person's purpose in life satisfy? when does a job becomes a kind of slavery? what is the line between private achievement and outside obligation?--lend the characters depth.

To put it simply: because they are interested in something else, the characters become interesting.