The dark side of love

Posted: 2012/01/26 | Author: | Filed under: Faith, Politics | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Evocative covers anyone?

It isn’t a coincidence that most romance heroes are dark-haired. It isn’t a coincidence that there aren’t all that many blonde heroines either. It isn’t a coincidence that romance heroes are sexually experienced. It isn’t a coincidence that the hero and heroine have to fight, sometimes hate each other at some point in a romance novel. It isn’t a coincidence that romance has been known to stage cases of forceful love-making or seduction. All these traits of modern romance can be explained by one single idea: romance represents or emphasizes the “dark side” of love. Love as temptation, love as sin, love as carnal desire, love as physical pleasure–think of it, it’s everywhere in romance.

Of course, that doesn’t mean that romance actually endorses a Satanic view of love. There are many romance writers who are Christian (which is a different thing from authors who write “Christian/inspirational romance”), and why shouldn’t there be? What I’m trying to say can be better articulated in two distinct, yet complementary hypotheses: 1) Romance challenges some historically dominant interpretations of Christian love or “good” love, either by abandoning religious validation altogether (non-Christian writers), or by suggesting new criteria for religious validation/shifting the religious paradigm (Christian writers).

2) Romance is literature, fiction, and art; beyond delivering a message, its purpose is to play with popular representations and symbolism. Since Western societies are embedded in Christian symbolism, so we find it at work in Western productions. It is here crucial to note that the romance hero must always end up on the side of good, and the relationship eventually be saved (there is no “moral indecision” in a romance novel); but the devilish, demonic hero, as well as love as redemption, are extremely powerful and common images in romance. The commonplace misconception that the romance genre presents a mawkish, corny, fluffy depiction of love is therefore entirely unfounded: on the contrary, its sensational, popular roots explain its traditional preference for the subversive, dark side of love.

This is basically what occurred to me while I was reading A Duke of Her Own. The novel features a textbook example of what I mean by “the hero as devilish” and “love as sinful”–although the story obviously does a job of turning it around. Some novels will do that by using revelations or a Big Misunderstanding plot device: in reality the hero isn’t as bad as his reputation claims, and the love we thought was forbidden becomes actually possible and honorable. Other books, like Eloisa James’s, don’t attempt to make amends for the hero’s past mistakes (six bastard children! five duels!) or the characters’ behaviour (having sex three times while each is betrothed to someone else?). These books glory in their characters’ faults, in an attitude that is half “so what?” (rejection of assumed good and evil), half “and still they found love” (love as redemption).

“Do you know what I keep thinking?” A wildly mischievous smile spread across her face.
“Please don’t feel that you have to share it with me.”
“Oh, Lucifer, angel of the morning, how art thou fallen,” she said. And then whisked herself off, grinning.
Two could play at that game.

- A Duke of Her Own, Eloisa James (Avon, 2009)

Lucifer proti Pánovi, by Mihály Zichy

This excerpt isn’t just one among many examples of a romance hero being likened to the Devil, Lucifer, Satan, a demon, or a monster. (The recent rise of dangerous fantasy creatures as romantic heroes makes, in this light, perfect sense.) Besides the use of an imagery that can quickly get old and meaningless, it shows a verbal sparring between the heroes that belies all conceptions of love as fluttery hearts, sickly adoration and dreamy feelings. It is such a cliche in romance that the hero and heroine must fight and irritate each other, that sometimes the reader doesn’t even know why, and gets annoyed at the characters for being so ill-tempered, stubborn or blind (always in the sense of not seeing the other’s goodness, though, ie the opposite of the saying that “love is blind”).

But what better way to underline the romance heroes’ imperfections and the rockiness of their relationship, than by contrasting them with “perfect” supporting characters and smoothly boring human interactions? That’s another strongly recurring pattern in romance. In A Duke of Her Own, the hero considers marriage with Lisette, a blonde, childish, joyful creature, because she seems more conform to society’s standards for women. Conversely, Eleanor is originally enamored of Gideon, who represents everything upstanding, honorable, and good (and blonde)–quite the opposite of the amoral (and black-haired) Duke of Villiers.

He didn’t mind showing some skin to Eleanor. But Lisette was a gently bred lady, with a kind of innocence that made her eyes shine with a deep-down purity.
Eleanor was leaning over the balustrade now, bantering with Tobias. Her bottom was very round under her thick robe. She was the antithesis of innocent.

- A Duke of Her Own, Eloisa James (Avon, 2009)

One could also mention An Affair To Remember, by Karen Hawkins, in which the hero is engaged to a very blonde, very shy, very proper and very young lady, while the heroine is a tall, fiery redhead who lost her place in the Ton through her eccentric grandfather’s wild investments (his latest idea is to make “French sheaths” available to the lower classes). Or On the Way to the Wedding, by Julia Quinn, in which the hero imagines himself in love with the heroine’s perfect and blonde friend, before realizing he likes the oddball better. Or In the Prince’s Bed, by Sabrina Jeffries, in which the heroine pines for her blonde poet, before falling for the hero’s wicked kisses and fondling. The list goes on…

Of course blonde heroes and heroines exist. Romance doesn’t depend on a single plot device, either. But when it comes to heroes especially, their fair colouring is hardly used as a symbol, rather as evidence that “appearances are deceiving”. He may look like an angel, but he’s really wicked, tempting and lustful like the devil. However, equally often (especially in a series) blonde heroes are portrayed as less virile, less dominant than dark ones. Just look at Brenda Joyce’s Deadly series: (golden-haired) Bragg, the first love interest, can only be legitimately dethroned in Francesca’s heart by an even “maler” male, if I may say so. It will be Hart, the dark-haired half-brother with the scandalous ways, who is even more of an orphan (both parents vs only Bragg’s mother), and has chosen a darker professional path (building a financial empire vs serving in the police force).

Double standards? Clearly most of the dark, subversive burden lies on the hero’s shoulders, while romance heroines often continue being virginal, well-bred, and blonde. Well, yes, and no. The diagnosis may be correct for the romance genre as a whole; but it isn’t intelligible as such. You must consider that the genre is ever-evolving, that different authors occupy different niches, and express different belief systems through different styles, settings, plots and characters. I don’t think anybody who reads romance ever reads a statistically representative sample of the genre as a whole. Readers have favourites, as suits their personal understanding of love and the sexes.

Even so, I would like to offer an argument in favour of very male males and the imbalance between the hero and heroine. This is a genre written mainly by women, for women, yet it cannot abstract itself from the patriarchal environment in which not just the authors, but the readers are socialized. The heroine can be said to do her part in recognizing the hero for who he is–the hero–as opposed to condemning his wickedness or immorality and keeping away from him–and acceding to the fulfillment of her own desires. But there is comfort in thinking that the initiative and responsibility for this scandalous type of love rests primarily on the man. Men do, after all, have a distinct cultural advantage when it comes to doing as one pleases and the rest be damned. Thus romance seeks to speak to women as they are, not as they should be. As for men, well, romance may portray them a little more as they should be… Who’s going to complain, right?

How do you feel about the lack of political correctness in romance? Do you agree with my assessment of modern romance as outrageous rather than sentimental? Do you prefer romance heroes to be very wicked, or more like ordinary men? How do you envision the evolution of het romance regarding gender equality? Is it in urban fantasy (and its sexually hyperactive heroines)?

Gender equality: what does it mean?

Posted: 2011/10/20 | Author: | Filed under: Politics, Sports | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

According to the stereotype, little girls dream of being princesses. I remember dreaming of being a superheroine. I was one year younger than most of my classmates all throughout primary school. I was also smaller, and shy. Yet underneath the surface, I was already very opinionated and determined. I guess I liked to imagine myself as one of these inconspicuous girls who turn out to be super skilled butt-kicking warriors. Which is why I enjoy heroines like Liz from Lori Handeland’s Phoenix Chronicles, or Joan from Isabel Cooper’s No Proper Lady (review coming soon). (Speaking of Joan, is it a coincidence that we both share our name with history’s most famous badass “innocent”?)

I hear a lot of talk in support of such heroines in the name of feminism, or gender equality. I’m obviously all for portraying women as fighters, since 1) I’ve just admitted to being emotionally partial to them, and 2) it’s only giving credit where credit is due. However, I draw the line at claiming that strong, experienced, independent ladies are the only adequate representation of the liberated woman, and rejecting the helpless and pretty heroine type as a mere product of patriarchal norms. Sometimes pretending that all women have it in them to be tough is actually counterproductive.

I would know. After a year and half of training in a self-defence course, I recently switched a combat sport (Brazilian jiu jitsu). Many are surprised that I chose BJJ, a martial art that focuses on grappling and ground fighting (as opposed to striking and stand-up fighting), two types of fighting which seem to make most people feel particularly uncomfortable or vulnerable. Moreover, as BJJ became known outside of Brazil through MMA (a truly rough sport, that one), a lot of people tend to associate the two. Nevertheless, knowing that I’ve always dreamt of kicking some ass, and perhaps genuinely believing in gender equality, you are not surprised. You think: “Yeah, sure, why not? Women can do anything that men can do!”

Which is true, but… Want to know what incredible realization I’ve made since starting self-defence and then BJJ? Boys are stronger than girls. It’s not about height, or weight, or because girls are afraid to break their nails. I don’t know if it’s in the genes, or in the education, or the lifestyle, but boys are stronger than girls. Which is why, of course, BJJ is good for me in the long term. Its techniques are supposed to give smaller persons a chance against bigger ones (also based on the fact that, if you’re smaller, you’ll probably end up on the ground very easily).


So of course, a woman can train, learn skills, and become as good as men―just look at female athletes, they’re not that far behind their male counterparts. But then, look at that woman’s lifestyle, and body. That’s not your average woman, by no stretch of the imagination. Yes, women can do it (what the human body can do is amazing, right?), but nature has made it harder for us. Therefore, how much of a victory is it really to compete with men in an area in which they are naturally at an advantage? By claiming that “good” women should have the qualities traditionally associated with men, are we not just strengthening the dominant, male perception of the world?

Reading Petals on the River gave me an additional insight into this matter. I think I’ve mentioned in my review that Kathleen Woodiwiss wrote in an old-fashioned way. Shemaine, the heroine, has traditionally feminine traits: she’s curvy but rather small of stature, a good housekeeper, with cooking talents and maternal instincts. Gage, the hero, is taller, stronger, with a manual profession. She is an eighteen-year-old virgin; he is a thirty-three-year-old widower. To top it all off, Gage bought Shemaine as his bondslave. Just what, at first sight, would make feminists cry out in outrage. Except…

In the short time I’ve known you, I’ve come to realize I do desire you as a woman. Yet I would never force you, Shemaine… or knowingly hurt you.

- Petals on the River, Kathleen E. Woodiwiss (Avon, 1997)

That’s what Gage tells the heroine, and he abides by it, too. When he eventually realizes that he wants her for good, instead of taking advantage of his position as her master or her physical desire for him, he simply proposes to her. When they finally go to bed together, it is as man and wife, as two free and willing people. And that, which is in fact more than you get in a lot of romance novels, made me realize the following: this novel takes the woman’s side, not because she is depicted as young, virginal or in a weaker position, but because she is not taken advantage of for it. This novel takes the woman’s side, not because the man is stronger, older and in a power position, but because he never uses it against her.

CALCASA's anti-rape campaign

Warrior women exist in real life, and they should exist in fiction too. But as far as fantasies go, they may not be as feminist as you’d think. When popular movies or graphic novels show us killer superheroines with perfectly feminine bodies, doesn’t that remind you of the skinny-with-huge-boobies myth? If you’re going to fight like Marloes Coenen, you’re going to look like Marloes Coenen (and she’s okay for an MMA fighter, right?). And in the end, what feminists want is a world that would be safe for all women, big and small, strong and weak, bold and shy; not a world in which a woman has to be like a man to be respected and treated as a human being.

What is your favourite kind of romance heroine? Do you think it’s sexist to portray heterosexual couples in which the man is older, taller, stronger?

First contact: 1) The heroine’s POV

Posted: 2011/08/09 | Author: | Filed under: Literature | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment »

Inspired by Jay Kristoff’s guest entry @YA Highway about writing outside your gender, I decided to examine how well (or not) modern romance authors dealt with differences between the heroine’s point of view and the hero’s. I specifically intended to question the part concerning “how we perceive the opposite gender”.

Now, I’m not denying there is a difference, let alone that these differences have frozen into well-oiled stereotypes… For example, as you will notice in the examples below, it’s true that female writers are obsessed with eyes. Even when they can’t tell the colour, they have to say so, or take a guess at it. But the fact remains for me―and authors should think about it when they write, rather than head straight to cliches―that your heroine ought to notice first whatever’s most striking about your hero: eyes usually work if the heroine sees him close up, but not all beautiful men need special or beautiful eyes.

But before I say more, let’s have some fun… (The books were chosen randomly among titles I liked.)

His gaze was cold and grim, and it sent frightening impressions running through her head.
Gray eyes so pale they were almost silver. Eyes that knew no mercy.
Crisp brown hair whose tendency to curl hadn’t quite been tamed by a no-nonsense cut. A man who made his own rules and answered to no one.
Hard muscle and sinewy strength. A physical animal.
Brutal cheekbones and a ruthless jaw. No softness there. Not even a speck of the gentler emotions. This man was a conqueror, designed by nature to make war.

- Nobody’s Baby But Mine, Susan Elizabeth Phillips (Avon, 1997)

That’s beginning with gusto! So, I love SEP’s stories and writing. And what’s funniest in that excerpt is that the whole description actually serves, even more than to tell us how hot the hero looks, to create tension in the scene, make the heroine’s expectations clash as harshly as possible with reality, and explain the absolute, hilarious awkwardness that follows… Don’t take it literally.

With his tie loosened and the top button of his white shirt undone, long sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, Annie’s new boss―and her brother’s best friend from their high school days―was scary handsome. With his thick dark hair, deep brown eyes, and that face like a movie star, he was TDH to the max.

- Force of Nature, Suzanne Brockmann (Ballantine Books, 2007)

TDH = Tall, Dark and Handsome

Forearms… *drools*

He was a tall, long-limbed young man, she saw in the ample light from the window. And very blond. He was probably blue-eyed too, though there was not quite enough light to enable her to verify that theory. She could see quite enough of him, though, to guess that he was by far too handsome for his own good.

- Slightly Scandalous, Mary Balogh (Dell, 2003)

A little change of tone for this historical romance… But of course, she notices his general stature before she tries and guess at his eye colour, since that’s what we usually do when we see someone for the first time.

He was wearing a biker jacket in spite of the heat, and his long legs were covered in leather as well. He had steel-toed shitkicker boots on, and he moved like a predator.
Beth craned her neck to look up at his face.
God, he was gorgeous.
His jaw was a straight shot of bone, his lips full, the hollows under his cheeks casting heavy shadows. His hair was straight and black, falling to his shoulders from a widow’s peak, and he had the shadow of a dark beard.

- Dark Lover, J. R. Ward (Signet, 2005)

Personal taste: I’m not a fan of Ward’s vampires’ looks. I cannot for the life of me imagine a man being gorgeous who’s huge (height-wise, not… you know, although of course this one hero is both) and without body hair (which we learn when he undress). Very tall guys just don’t do it for me, nor does hairlessness. That’s why, maybe, you shouldn’t always be too specific, and rather leave details to the reader’s imagination.

Her first impression of the man had been fragmented. Compelling eyes, fair coloring, a well-shaped, mobile mouth. It wasn’t until she stepped away that she realized he was the handsomest man she had ever seen. His longish hair shimmered with every blond shade from gilt to dark gold, and the bone structure or his face make angels weep with envy.

- Angel Rogue, Mary Jo Putney (Topaz, 1990)

The heroine meets the hero by falling on top of him. Which explains that her first impression of him focuses on his face.

Besides being even more handsome than she had thought, he was at least six feet three inches tall, broad shouldered and athletically muscular. His thick dark hair was coffee brown, beautifully cut and styled. Masculine strength was carved into every feature of his proud profile, from the straight dark brows to the arrogant jut of his chin and jaw. His mouth was firm, but sensually molded.

- Double Standards, Judith McNaught (Pocket Books, 1984)

Save from the 6’3″ cliche (really? who actually likes tall men?), this passage nails it for me. From the general (height, build, body type) to the particular (brows, jaw, mouth), and more evocative than purely descriptive. The readers are left to imagine for themselves what a “proud profile” looks like, or “beautifully cut and styled hair”. I guess each person has their own notion of what that may mean.

At first glance, he was an average looking, a mild-mannered, dark-haired, Clark Kent kind of guy with horn-rimmed glasses in a beat-up nothing-colored jacket; the only notable thing about him was Andrew’s “Bitch” baseball cap that he’d swiped from her back at Clea’s.
On second glance, the glint in his eye and the set of his jaw made her twitch.

- Faking It, Jennifer Crusie (St. Martin’s Press, 2002)

Another favourite of mine. A description that practically tells you more about the heroine than the hero she’s looking at. In the end, we don’t have a very clear image of what he looks like, but more of what she sees in him, what she likes about him.

Handsome, too. Tall, although not overly so, with warm brown hair and a rather pleasing smile. And a twinkle in his eyes as well, the color of which she couldn’t quite determine in the dim night air.

- On the Way to the Wedding, Julia Quinn (Avon, 2006)

Typical Quinn. The recognition (that the hero’s hot) is instantaneous, but measured. We’re in a Regency world, after all, so you couldn’t get away with things like, “What a sexy beast!” I also like that this author plays with two levels of handsomeness: the objective one, which is immediately apparent but in itself never enough to fall for, and the subjective, passionate one the characters acquire as their feelings develop.

So how do you like that? Overdose of supremely handsome men? But that’s the stuff heroes are made of, you know… I was reminded while compiling these excerpts of a jeering comment made on some MMA blog about Lori Foster’s description of her hero in one of her SBC Fighters books. Men, or any kind of ignorant people will thus often trash romance under the pretext that it’s mushy/syrupy. As if. Scared of a woman who knows what she likes, guys? Scared of a woman who calls a penis a penis? Scared of a woman who judges a man by looks? Who’s the mushiest gender now?


Since I brought up the topic of MMA, here’s a telling example: over a week ago, Strikeforce featured the women’s title fight in bantamweight division (126-135 pounds), and while my boyfriend was trying to defend women’s MMA to his friend, the latter seemed more interested in debating on how “pretty” Coenen and Tate were (or weren’t). Unfortunately, I think it’s an accepted fact that men will always issue a judgement of the opposite sex’s appearance, no matter their position or the context, while they’re used to women not commenting men’s looks nearly so much. The irony is that when we do, men call us “women” and claim not to understand all this stupid romantic stuff… Next time I catch my guy friends discussing who’s hot and who’s not, I’ll be sure to laugh at their corny, sentimental souls.

What makes a good hero description? Do you believe that there are general rules of what a woman sees first in a man? What do you think of the handsome hero stereotype?

Sexual division of labor in modern romance

Posted: 2011/05/20 | Author: | Filed under: Literature, Politics | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments »

I didn’t expect to be writing about that this week, but the reminder of romance clichés in the Modern Princesses’ blog about Beyond Heaving Bosoms, combined with the two first short stories of the contest on LesRomantiques.com, brought about this interrogation. Indeed, modern romance is full of dukes, earls or uncommonly wealthy commoners, of sheiks and billionaires and successful businessmen. That’s for heroes. Heroines, on the other hand, are much more ordinary people: employees, subordinates, freelancers. Thank God we see more and more businesswomen, as well as heiresses in historicals, but that cannot hide the general pattern that tends to place men in positions at least as powerful as women.

In Remember When, by Judith McNaught, the main female character is “an executive with a large and growing corporation”. An inspiring role model, huh? But of course her male counterpart then had to be “the aggressive, enigmatic entrepreneur who had made history by putting together a very large, very profitable conglomerate before he was thirty years old.” It wouldn’t do to have the man appear socially inferior to the woman. Although the author gives a surprisingly standpoint feminist reason for that:

“I thought women were more interested these days in discovering how high they can climb on the corporate ladder.”
“We are, but unlike men, we’re learning early that we can’t define ourselves by our success or lack of it at work. We want more from life than that, and we have more to give than that.”

- Remember When, Judith McNaught (Pocket Books, 1996)

It sounds almost like an argument by Lynne Farrow, which I had hated back when I’d first read it:

Observing and evaluating life routines must be the occupation of the comparatively idle, those with less responsibilities, i.e., men. Similarly, an old joke points at the delusionary importance men invest their work with: the head of the family reports to his friends, “I make the big decisions in the family like whether Red China should be admitted to the UN and my wife makes the small ones like if we need a new car and what school the kids should go to.”

- “Feminism as anarchism”, Lynne Farrow (Quiet Rumours: An Anarcha-Feminist Reader)

There is, however, a very real tension for women between the refusal of their traditional roles on the basis of equality, and their natural distrust of men’s world: a world which has been built in exclusion of women, and is thus by definition hostile to us. I think Top Girls showed this paradox very clearly: how the feeling of power which derives from being “as good as men” combines with the feeling of defeat at becoming as bad as them. At some point Joyce sarcastically tells her sister something along the lines of: Would you have supported Hitler if he had been a woman, Hitlerina? Men’s world is based on exclusion and domination; can we realistically end the exclusion of women and their domination by men without transforming the world in the same move?

Feminism doesn’t mean female corporate power or a woman President; it means no corporate power and no Presidents.

- “Anarchism: The Feminist Connection”, Peggy Kornegger (The Second Wave, 1975)

When I started seriously reading romance, I had the vague and spontaneous intuition that the general social and professional inferiority heroines were kept in was feeding sexism and misogyny. Though no explicit message usually goes with it, the pattern seems to encourage women to put aside their personal ambition, and instead satisfy their aspiration for a good life through finding a husband with a well-paid job and an enviable status. I longed to see more heroines do well by themselves, heroines for whom marrying the man would improve nothing in terms of wealth, standing or power.

But then I had second thoughts. What if the poor-girl-marries-the-prince plots were a women’s invention, the only way for them to be loved for who they are, and nothing else? If you look at fairy tales in their original versions, the heroines who get to marry the prince are always princesses themselves, or at least noblewomen, whatever temporary state of destitution events have forced them into. I am sorry to say that stories featuring a richer, better-off and more beautiful woman are overwhelmingly fantasized and written by men, and why doubt it? Men always think they deserve the best, never mind all the poor, plain and awkward girls out there.

I was quite struck by Liz’s Open Letter to “Nice Guys” of the World, not least because I feel I have personally experienced that sort of veiled, twisted misogyny. Women are insensitive and shallow for not going for the “nice”, shy, unpopular guys, while it’s only fair for men to hit on us because we have nice hair, legs or butt. Or because we have money, connections and success. Where I’m getting at is, although I’ll welcome a greater diversity and equality in the main protagonists’ professions (female nannies and secretaries don’t turn me on, neither do corporate guys)―a process which might actually already be underway―I think it’s modern romance’s job to make sure that women in literature continue to get disinterested loving from men who are worth the big trouble of matrimony.

Do you find modern romance belittling to women in its gendered choice of careers? Have you read romance novels which turned the power relation upside down in a successful manner? (Off the top of my head: The Merchant’s Gift, by Julia London; The Charmer, by Madeline Hunter, The Girl with the Golden Gun, by Ann Major; First Lady, by SEP; Black Rose, by Nora Roberts…)

Characterization: writing romance heroes

Posted: 2011/03/24 | Author: | Filed under: Literature, My writing | Tags: , , , , | 5 Comments »

Since I was talking about romance heroes characterization yesterday, but the entry was getting pretty long as it was, I’m posting more concrete advice in a separate entry. Somebody in a forum asked what makes a good romance hero. Here’s an expanded version of what I replied:

Obvious qualities expected in a romance hero: faithful, honest about his feelings (which doesn’t exclude misunderstandings, or dishonesty on other matters), respectful of women, physically responsive, minimally entreprising/forward…

Besides that, your hero could be anything. Since his own particular qualities and skills will shape his personality, it’s your job to come up with them! It depends on your plot and what you are comfortable writing. Just remember a few general rules:

1) Challenge stereotypes. Not all literary/bookish types hate maths, not all intellectuals aren’t also manual/athletic, not all easy-going guys aren’t secretly scarred inside, etc…

Or maybe that’s just me liking well-rounded people. I’ve got to say my dad and my boyfriend both pretty much defy any such categorization.

2) What matters isn’t WHO your character is, it’s HOW you’ll write him.

In this respect, try to show the reader what your hero is like, instead of telling it. Don’t just mention what he’s good or bad at; set up your scenes in contexts which will allow us to actually see him in action and gradually learn who he is. Also, don’t say what his personality traits are, give us concrete examples. Give your character opportunities to prove that he’s brave or caring or funny, don’t just tell us so.

Nothing is more frustrating for a reader than finding out through the omniscient narrator that the hero’s actually a good, loving guy (which later justifies that the heroine falls in love with him), when he’s come off as a jerk in every scene he’s been granted so far. I once came across that problem in a manuscript, and that’s what got me thinking: this is not romance, it’s just a badly written love story!

3) Be wary of the too-perfect hero trap. We want the male character to need the female character for something, and not just to stop being single, either. As a female romance reader, I like nothing better than when the heroine proves her hero wrong, teaches him a thing or two and gets to save him in the process. Men need women to comfort and listen to them and save their asses just as much as the other way around.

An interesting link on the topic: Creating Great Heroes and Heroines

I personally enjoy taking classic pairings and swapping the genders assigned to each “type”. I’ve recently written an adventure/sci-fi short story in French, in which the heroine has the role of fearless adventurer and experienced guide, while the hero is introduced as a clueless tourist. Obviously this is just a premise; as the story unfolds, it is gradually revealed that the hero isn’t quite the one we initially thought he was… For what seriously independent heroine could fall for a “clueless tourist”? However, the hero never gains the upper hand. He merely turns out to be something of an equal to the heroine.

For the past few years, I’ve also wanted to write a historical Regency romance between a deeply religious, virgin hero and a former courtesan. Intriguing, right?

But I’m not the only one experimenting with twists on corny pairings. Published romance authors do it too, and generally to great effect. I thus cannot get over the clandestine affair between the nineteen-year-old student and his older teacher in Chill Factor, by Sandra Brown. Hawt. Or the story of a geeky teenager and a girl with more physical assets than self-assurance in The Unsung Hero, by Suzanne Brockmann. Cuuute! These are both, however, secondary plots to the main love story, which is often more standard and pc (and less exciting).

Men in modern romance

Posted: 2011/03/23 | Author: | Filed under: Bio, Literature, Politics | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment »

The other day I was talking about the best romance heroine… So what about the best romance hero? Maybe because modern mainstream romance is mainly directed at heterosexual women, a good hero is often more important than a good heroine. But what is a good romance hero?

I’m personally not sure that such a question can be answered beyond the basic advice about characterization. Unless it seems to imply that there is one easily spotted, easily described brand or breed of “good romance heroes”, when the first remark that springs to mind is: to each his own… There is no more single type of romance hero than there is a single type of man women fall in love with.

Now because modern romance is all about happy endings and morality, of course romance heroes should ultimately be loving, faithful, not abusive and respectful of women. But does this really define a “type” of character? If it does, I can only apologize on behalf of all romance writers and readers for spreading progressive, positive and peaceful ideas into the world. *snort*

I’m not going to deny that there are stereotyped or even archetypal romance heroes (tall, dark and handsome?), although considering the number of modern romance novels in print, this hardly seems avoidable. However, I am very much rebelling against the notion that romance heroes are 1) all out of the same mould, 2) unrealistic and too-perfect, 3) sexist and essentialist representations of gender. Not that such issues are something you won’t bump into in many romance novels; like in every genre, there’s good and there’s bad, there’s original and there’s déjà vu, there’s subtle and there’s crude. Just don’t assume that this is what modern romance is made of, because now that’s simply not true.

1) I actually enjoy reading about all the different kinds of heroes romance writers can make us fall in love with. They all have specific physiques, specific talents, a specific place in the world. I know I have a personal fondness for darker (ie not Caucasian) heroes and rough, lower-class types… But even then, the best is probably to be kept on your toes by a writer who knows just how to play with your prejudice and turn it against you!

The man looked smart and elegant and corporate—way too smart and rich as far as she was concerned. Money did something to men. [...] Thinking about money all the time, dealing with it, investing it—it made them weak. It tamed them. It took the beast, all the grrrrrr out of the man.

- The Girl with the Golden Gun, Ann Major (MIRA, 2005)

2) Sure, romance heroes are usually better than average. But then, so are romance heroines, if not more: how many times is the woman the one who’ll reach through the man’s defenses and ease the baggage off his shoulders? Does that make them perfect and unattainable? To my mind, it only makes them grown-up, smart and generous, something each of us has the capacity of being if only we make the effort. To put it briefly, romance heroines and heroes are people who make the effort. They must deserve each other, and each other’s love. Which is never quite as simple as it may seem…

“[...] We’re still friends.”
He laughed. “Friends?”
“Yeah, well, you’re now my naked friend, but that really works for me. Look at you—you’re my own personal hot-naked-guy fantasy come true.”
“Is that really what you think?” Ric was starting to get mad again. “Because there’s nothing easy in what we just started. You want a fantasy? Find someone else.”

- Force of Nature, Suzanne Brockmann (Ballantine, 2007)

3) Are all romance heroes incredibly handsome, with well-defined muscles, skin like velvet on steel? Hahaha. Okay, well, maybe a little. But tell me, why should we complain when for once in this friggin’ sexist world, women are left alone and it’s men’s turn to look fabulous and yummy?! And talking about yummy, romance heroes don’t usually look like these models you see on the covers of romance novels, or like male strippers. That’s what men think women like. That’s not what women actually write about.

She felt the shape of his face with her hands. Not fairy-tale handsome, not perfect, but beloved.

- Blue Dahlia, Nora Roberts (Jove, 2004)

As for romance heroes being manly and masculine… Maybe the actual problem lies in what we’re used to defining as “masculine”, not in what these characters are like. Brave, strong, opinionated, responsible, sensible? Wait, women can be that, too. Women should be that too! And a lot of romance heroines, in fact, are.

So does reading about all these intelligent and secretly romantic hunks make us frustrated when we don’t have one in real life? Not really. I’d rather say it’s a great lesson in hope, optimism, self-confidence and self-respect. How can it be a bad thing when it gives us the courage to dump this loser or that douche bag, or better yet, to not start anything with them at all? And finally finding your own romance hero, like I have, only makes you enjoy romance novels more. Because it’s like reliving your own love story forever, because you can relate all the way, from the beat your heart skipped when you first saw his über hot self coming through the door, to the way your whole body warmed and tingled when he whispered, “I’m completely in love with you”.

I’m 24 today, and it feels like my man and all the love he gives me are the best birthday present I’ve ever got. Which hasn’t stopped him from buying the cutest, easiest-to-use new camera for the unskilled novice photographer that I am. Hopefully the next pictures I post on this blog will be nicer than the ones I’ve managed so far…


Who is your favourite romance hero? And what was the best birthday present you’ve received?

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