Previously on Bewildered Heart we discussed the numerous arguments romance fiction fans have mounted in defence of their favourite kind of writing. Due to the frequency and quantity of these opinion pieces it might appear as if critical maulings occur regularly, requiring a steady stream of justified rebukes. Yet Romance exists in an isolated vacuum, much like actual couples, and within these confines the genre treats itself generously. Critics review new novels with the understanding of their place within the literary canon. Award ceremonies do not include books from other genres. Websites and weblogs dedicate themselves solely to Romance, as if the wider world of aliens, dystopian societies, families, and teenage girls battling aliens, dystopian societies and their families somehow aren't noteworthy.
For a Bewildered Heart to demonstrate the vitriol romance defenders object to there is an absence of essays and articles to cut and paste from. Instead we make do with a silence from intellectuals with better things to do than read the latest publications from Mills & Boon, and we simply cannot cut and paste silence to fill our monthly Google blog quota. Still, to not be taken seriously is affront enough if, of course, you wish to be taken seriously. Considering the wealth of reactions from readers, writers, editors, reviewers and self-proclaimed experts such a desire exists. The crux of the argument comes down to the mass market. Does Romance cross-over with reviews in journals and newspapers and discussions on the late night chat show circuit. Numerous other genres are not treated in this manner, with their own dark and dusty sections in bookshops and never featured in the Times Literary Supplement, so why Romance?
Some put mainstream dismissal down to misogyny. There was a time that considered love as worthy a subject for literature, theatre and poetry as honour or horses. 'Sociologists have long recognized a phenomenon called “feminization,” which means that anything that becomes associated solely with women falls in general esteem.' So says Jennifer Crusie, a woman, in Defeating The Critics: What We Can Do About the Anti-Romance Bias. Her typically melodramatic female reaction suggests that the genre is universally condemned because it threatens the patriarchal establishment. This is achieved because Romance tells uncomfortable truths that men and some feminists don't want to acknowledge, such as heroines are equal to heroes, sex is as vital to women as it is to men, love is powerful and justifies fiction, women coo at babies in supermarkets, no one really enjoys responsibility, women need relationships and happy ever afters are not delusional fantasies dangerously out of touch with reality.
Bearing this in mind what can we do to fight against oppressive rejection? 'We can argue that romance fiction is maligned because it’s so threatening to rigid political and academic structures.' Yet ultimately, Crusie argues, this is unnecessary. Firstly, men and most feminists are bad listeners, and secondly, 'We don’t write to please establishments, we write to reach women.' This sounds suspiciously similar to what untalented authors, musicians and filmmakers say about their lousy books, music and movies. Therefore, is there a more grandiose way in which to spell out that sentiment? 'By writing good books we counteract decades of pessimism with narratives of realistic optimism, we break through knee-jerk limitations on women imposed by both the political right and left, and we refute the sterile elitism of current literary criticism.' You go, girls.
All this proud resolve masks an obvious flaw in the pro-Romance rhetoric. The genre enjoys its status as an outsider ignored by the establishment, yet as we are repeatedly told Romance fiction is the largest and most lucrative sector in publishing. Romance, despite its protestations, is the commercial establishment. When the likes of Crusie speak of crossing over, what would they like Romance to cross-over to? Is there a larger audience for a genre that already enjoys the largest audience of the written word? As exemplified by corporate juggernauts such as Harlequin Mills & Boon, Romance is the bloated big business that critics have always railed against, from pop music to Hollywood blockbusters. Still, generalising the genre into a single style, title or notion is misguided. As with anything else, there is the mainstream, the alternative and the independent. Anything mass-produced, indiscernible in content and low on quality will rightfully be chastised for lowest common denominator money-grabbing.
Romance does not require voices of support because its dominance can withstand any amount of disapproval, but it is not immune from criticism, even if such judgements can be fancifully rebuffed as sexist, snobbish or pretentious. Besides this hugely successful genre would be foolish to discount all of the constructive negativity it does not receive from a powerful authority that doesn't exist. The reason Mills & Boon products are not favourably compared to Jane Austen or the poems of John Donne is not a result of institutionalised sexism, but because modern romance does not favourably compare to anything critics think highly of. Nevertheless, there are acclaimed authors writing love stories with happy endings, and their recognition elevates them above genre, but in the homogenized world of Harlequin plaudits are earned through quantity. The majority of Mills & Boon novelists churn out more books in a year than Austen managed in her lifetime. Carefully-plotted stories, strong characters and believable dialogue are not organic by-products of this profit-driven, slapdash approach.
There is, of course, another flaw to the pro-Romance rhetoric. The disparagement it has received over the last few decades has a degree of justification. While Mills & Boon has staked its place as the least the genre has to offer, the examples to have broken into the public consciousness have been met with equal disdain. The Twilight and Fifty Shades series are not the ambassadors the genre would have chosen for emotional depth and strong female role models. Both are ineptly-written, sexist and tedious reads with poorly-drawn characters and narratively-redundant sequences. As a consequence Romance fiction has to stand up for itself once again, pushing readers to seek out the finest quality erotic and paranormal fantasies available. Yet it is understandable that those in need of convincing will not want to sacrifice anymore time on being convinced.
Romance has taught us many things. Thick eyelashes are a man’s most essential body part. Beautiful twenty-seven year old virgins are plentiful. Blackmail always leads to eternal love. Still, the life-altering epiphany that the genre is responsible for is that love is difficult and rewarding. Firstly, because the ideal man is attempting to tear down the wildlife park your adoptive parents fought their lives to preserve so he can build luxury casinos. Secondly, because in his arrogance he has offered you the money you need to save the animals in exchange for sex. Thirdly, because he is secretly a royal prince of a small island on the French Riviera. Finally, love takes courage, faith in yourself, faith in the most handsome billionaire you have ever seen, and a confidence that happiness is there for those who open themselves to experience it. Believing in your favourite genre requires faith that if the proof of Romance fiction’s brilliance is out there critics and a wider readership will discover where the good stuff has been hiding and know the difference.
For a Bewildered Heart to demonstrate the vitriol romance defenders object to there is an absence of essays and articles to cut and paste from. Instead we make do with a silence from intellectuals with better things to do than read the latest publications from Mills & Boon, and we simply cannot cut and paste silence to fill our monthly Google blog quota. Still, to not be taken seriously is affront enough if, of course, you wish to be taken seriously. Considering the wealth of reactions from readers, writers, editors, reviewers and self-proclaimed experts such a desire exists. The crux of the argument comes down to the mass market. Does Romance cross-over with reviews in journals and newspapers and discussions on the late night chat show circuit. Numerous other genres are not treated in this manner, with their own dark and dusty sections in bookshops and never featured in the Times Literary Supplement, so why Romance?
Some put mainstream dismissal down to misogyny. There was a time that considered love as worthy a subject for literature, theatre and poetry as honour or horses. 'Sociologists have long recognized a phenomenon called “feminization,” which means that anything that becomes associated solely with women falls in general esteem.' So says Jennifer Crusie, a woman, in Defeating The Critics: What We Can Do About the Anti-Romance Bias. Her typically melodramatic female reaction suggests that the genre is universally condemned because it threatens the patriarchal establishment. This is achieved because Romance tells uncomfortable truths that men and some feminists don't want to acknowledge, such as heroines are equal to heroes, sex is as vital to women as it is to men, love is powerful and justifies fiction, women coo at babies in supermarkets, no one really enjoys responsibility, women need relationships and happy ever afters are not delusional fantasies dangerously out of touch with reality.
Bearing this in mind what can we do to fight against oppressive rejection? 'We can argue that romance fiction is maligned because it’s so threatening to rigid political and academic structures.' Yet ultimately, Crusie argues, this is unnecessary. Firstly, men and most feminists are bad listeners, and secondly, 'We don’t write to please establishments, we write to reach women.' This sounds suspiciously similar to what untalented authors, musicians and filmmakers say about their lousy books, music and movies. Therefore, is there a more grandiose way in which to spell out that sentiment? 'By writing good books we counteract decades of pessimism with narratives of realistic optimism, we break through knee-jerk limitations on women imposed by both the political right and left, and we refute the sterile elitism of current literary criticism.' You go, girls.
All this proud resolve masks an obvious flaw in the pro-Romance rhetoric. The genre enjoys its status as an outsider ignored by the establishment, yet as we are repeatedly told Romance fiction is the largest and most lucrative sector in publishing. Romance, despite its protestations, is the commercial establishment. When the likes of Crusie speak of crossing over, what would they like Romance to cross-over to? Is there a larger audience for a genre that already enjoys the largest audience of the written word? As exemplified by corporate juggernauts such as Harlequin Mills & Boon, Romance is the bloated big business that critics have always railed against, from pop music to Hollywood blockbusters. Still, generalising the genre into a single style, title or notion is misguided. As with anything else, there is the mainstream, the alternative and the independent. Anything mass-produced, indiscernible in content and low on quality will rightfully be chastised for lowest common denominator money-grabbing.
Romance does not require voices of support because its dominance can withstand any amount of disapproval, but it is not immune from criticism, even if such judgements can be fancifully rebuffed as sexist, snobbish or pretentious. Besides this hugely successful genre would be foolish to discount all of the constructive negativity it does not receive from a powerful authority that doesn't exist. The reason Mills & Boon products are not favourably compared to Jane Austen or the poems of John Donne is not a result of institutionalised sexism, but because modern romance does not favourably compare to anything critics think highly of. Nevertheless, there are acclaimed authors writing love stories with happy endings, and their recognition elevates them above genre, but in the homogenized world of Harlequin plaudits are earned through quantity. The majority of Mills & Boon novelists churn out more books in a year than Austen managed in her lifetime. Carefully-plotted stories, strong characters and believable dialogue are not organic by-products of this profit-driven, slapdash approach.
There is, of course, another flaw to the pro-Romance rhetoric. The disparagement it has received over the last few decades has a degree of justification. While Mills & Boon has staked its place as the least the genre has to offer, the examples to have broken into the public consciousness have been met with equal disdain. The Twilight and Fifty Shades series are not the ambassadors the genre would have chosen for emotional depth and strong female role models. Both are ineptly-written, sexist and tedious reads with poorly-drawn characters and narratively-redundant sequences. As a consequence Romance fiction has to stand up for itself once again, pushing readers to seek out the finest quality erotic and paranormal fantasies available. Yet it is understandable that those in need of convincing will not want to sacrifice anymore time on being convinced.
Romance has taught us many things. Thick eyelashes are a man’s most essential body part. Beautiful twenty-seven year old virgins are plentiful. Blackmail always leads to eternal love. Still, the life-altering epiphany that the genre is responsible for is that love is difficult and rewarding. Firstly, because the ideal man is attempting to tear down the wildlife park your adoptive parents fought their lives to preserve so he can build luxury casinos. Secondly, because in his arrogance he has offered you the money you need to save the animals in exchange for sex. Thirdly, because he is secretly a royal prince of a small island on the French Riviera. Finally, love takes courage, faith in yourself, faith in the most handsome billionaire you have ever seen, and a confidence that happiness is there for those who open themselves to experience it. Believing in your favourite genre requires faith that if the proof of Romance fiction’s brilliance is out there critics and a wider readership will discover where the good stuff has been hiding and know the difference.
