Selling studious criticism of Mills & Boon to devoted fans of Mills & Boon who are savvy with the internet has proved an arduous struggle for this Bewildered Heart weblog. The notion that romance novels are inherently dim-witted has been acknowledged by everyone except the authors of those books, and even they appear to be defending their work with the same lazy indifference to quality that they bring to their prose. Despite this, their enduring popularity remains undiminished. The fall in sales of chick-lit has been well-documented, but romance fiction is as profitable and newsworthy as ever, thanks largely to two phenomenal franchises, the twee teenage vampire swooning of Twilight and the decidedly less virtuous world of Fifty Shades. Sales of the first book, Fifty Shades of Grey, have reached demented new heights in success, out-selling Harry Potter and The Da Vinci Code within four months of release, with digital and print sales upwards of six million. The sequels, Darker and Freed, have similar, though less spectacular figures, suggesting either readers bought all three in one go, or read the first one and decided not to bother with the latter two. Is this the Lord of the Rings of literary sex?
The trilogy tells the sordid dating history of Anastasia Steele, a beautiful university graduate who attracts the attention of enigmatic twenty-something tycoon Christian Grey. He offers her the lucrative opportunity of being his mistress and she accepts for reasons that aren't explained satisfactorily. It is at this point that the book begins to twist its mundane, everyday scenario. Christian hides a dark secret and, furthermore, he is a sadomasochist with a penchant for whips, chains and possibly other torture devices. He is shocked, and no doubt a little perturbed at his lack of research, when he learns that Ana is a virgin and not particularly aroused by bondage gear. From there only two potential endings seem likely and one of those seems unlikely. Surprisingly, Ana leaves Christian at the end of the first book, frustrated that her mysterious owner hasn't overcome his deep-rooted psychological scarring and given her a hug. In the second part, Fifty Shades of Darker, Ana meets an enigmatic pharmaceutical CEO named Ezra Darker who offers her a small fortune to pretend to be his wife at a forthcoming family get-together while Fifty Shades of Freed introduces wealthy tree surgeon Cornelius Freed and the three men throw money at one another until Anna declares one of them the winner and marries him.
Within months of their release the books have become the literary sensation of the year, E.L. James is the must-have dinner party guest of the season and light violence has been added to everyone's sexual repertoire. Christian Grey is truly the popsicle flavour of the month. Even Hollywood has joined in, announcing plans for the film adaptation, with the likes of Emma Watson, Angelina Jolie, Ryan Gosling and 1980s Mickey Rourke all unrealistically linked to the roles. Some have hailed this as the summer of the bonkbuster, while others have coined the term 'Mummy Porn,' although this suggests something entirely different. These phrases do a disservice to this burgeoning subgenre, as well as sarcastic wits the world over, as James has hardly tapped into an until now unknown market. Her novels have sold astoundingly, as if every Mills & Boon fan stopped buying from the assortment of titles their favoured publisher proffered and instead plumped for the same book. Fifty Shades has not trounced the competition of the romance genre, it has simply become the romance genre.
In response to this consumerism, Mills & Boon has reacted by reissuing twelve of its most erotically-charged sadomasochistic novels, including Going Down and Cuffing Kate, but in doing so have they assumed the reason for E.L. James' recording-breaking trilogy is the sexual content and not the hackneyed archetypal characters, the hostile misogyny or the insipid writing? After all, Mills & Boon cornered the market on those years ago, and they have been running Spice, their explicit imprint, since 2008, and yet Fifty Shades was published by Random House, some company that could have been anybody. Notoriously Harlequin's product is not promoted for individual glory. Their books are on shelves for thirty days, but the evolution of technology has allowed contracted authors a shot at continuing relevance. Now all Mills & Boon books exist permanently through websites and as ebooks, and it is electronically that E.L. James found her audience. She began her career, as all modern authors do, penning Twilight fan fiction for an online forum where Twi-Hards reimagine their beloved heroes and heroines in a variety of situations. James quickly gained a following thanks to her eroticism and cliffhanger endings. Bella referred to Edward as Fifty and soon enough entirely original characters had developed, she a passive virgin and he a dominating billionaire, thus unlike anything in the history of romantic fiction.
The cynical attempts to cash-in on a hungry public desire may have misjudged their target audience as well as misunderstood the appeal of the Fifty Shades books, but anyone who has read, or attempted to read, E.L. James is at a loss to explain what her fans see in her. Reviews have been as negative as those aimed at Stephenie Meyer or the Sex and the City movies, suggesting a division between popular opinion and critical evaluation. Nevertheless, the reaction of Mills & Boon does not imply changes to their product or lessons learned from James' interpretation of modern romance. The issue of great significance at the heart of Fifty Shades is in marketing, and this is where Harlequin consistently betray their readers and authors as if as a matter of course. Fifty Shades of Grey may have been born from humble beginnings, but using the Twilight forums helped generated the sensational word-of-mouth that contributed to the impressive online sales that begat the print numbers. What followed was wholly predictable, as women rushed to buy the novels their colleagues, friends and over-confident strangers were all talking about. Many were titillated, but those expecting hardcore eroticism, lessons in sex toys or competent writing were disappointed. Briefly a healthy attitude towards sexuality was pushed into mainstream conversation, but Ana's virginity and Christian's unhealthy attitude towards sexuality soon put paid to that.
Nevertheless, Mills & Boon might hope to strike while the iron is hot, as any adventurous hero would insist, and seize this opening to update their brand. Fifty Shades of Grey is as unashamedly old-fashioned as Twilight, but the books are seen as the contemporary alternatives to Harlequin Romances it is socially acceptable to enjoy. With such a stigma attached there are obvious explanations for why the likes of Meyer and James have pitched their work elsewhere, yet the truth is Fifty Shades of Grey could have been published by Spice as The Billionaire's Blackmailed Mistress, few would have read it and the author would have been given a contract to dream up four new novels by the end of the year. If Mills & Boon has any intention of modernising its product, besides designing a website, here is as good a chance as they have ever been given. They invented this saturated market and then they saturated it. A new crowd of readers with plenty of money and little discernible taste has announced itself eager for a follow-up and all Harlequin can offer is shelf after shelf of drearily identical, colour-coordinated novels. Instead they need a single title, stacked artistically on its own table with a banner and a clever lighting arrangement, that tells the story of a penniless, yet likeable, virgin girl who meets a mysterious, brooding billionaire with a perverse ultimatum and also an estranged wife locked in the attic. Does anyone anywhere have anything like that lying around?
For all authors aiming to conquer the romance fiction industry there is one name each would aspire to eclipse in terms of fame and success, and recently Bewildered Heart had its first, and hopefully last, flirtation with the publishing juggernaut named Nora Roberts. The MacGregor Grooms has been a blessed book for this weblog, with its three novellas guaranteeing months of subject matter to see us through the summer. Now the inevitable end has come, but many questions and concerns remain. Before putting this book back where it belongs, in the recycling bin behind the library, there is time for a full and unequivocal appraisal which may in turn reach any number of conclusions as to why The MacGregor’s are so beloved, why Nora Roberts is so adored and whether D.C. lost his manhood after all that frosty sex?
According to self-proclaimed Nora Roberts Examiner Carol Thomas at eleven books The MacGregor franchise is, 'Both the most extensive series she published for Silhouette and the most popular.' The initial story, Playing The Odds, concerned Daniel's attempt at fixing up his only daughter Serena with eligible gambler Justin Blade. From there things blossomed, somehow, into a sprawling family tree of endless repetition of a theme. The reasons for this, as Roberts would later explain to All About Romance, were purely down to money and a lack of imagination. 'When I started Playing The Odds, it was planned as one book. Somewhere during the writing of it, I decided to write stories involving each of Serena's brothers... So that meant three books. Then I had an idea to connect Shelby's brother, so that was four. And I fell for Daniel. Big time. My editor had received so many letters on him, she asked me if I would be willing to write his and Anna's story. She got a big yes! Later, when I was asked to write an historical, doing the MacGregors and the '45 in Scotland seemed like a natural. And again when I wrote a novella, for Harlequin Historicals, the MacGregors popped into my head.'
Once an author begins to churn out manuscript after manuscript of impossibly beautiful, talented people falling in love despite the sins of their parents the only challenge stems from having to constantly think up different names for the characters. However, there is more to The MacGregor's appeal than the writer's laziness, as Roberts' anecdote proves. The family grew as a result of reader demand as much as contractual obligations. 1987's For Now, Forever discloses the background of the monumental meeting of egos that was the courtship of Daniel and Anna. The MacGregor recounts the tale as he recovers from a car accident, possibly the result of his drinking problem. While Daniel receives much devotion from fans and family members alike, Anna Whitfield took on a prominent role in the novel as the feisty feminist who refused to be romanced, until she arbitrarily changed her mind and got married. For causes not explained with words or evidence Wylene Rholetter has described Anna as, 'Arguably the most revolutionary heroine among Roberts's category romances, a feminist in an age before the word was coined.' This would be glowing praise, had Roberts ever been renowned for her revolutionary heroines or had the book also been written in an age before feminism.
Due to the shameful superficiality, the tedious characterisation, the banal dialogue and insipid descriptions of womanly dithering contained within The MacGregor Grooms any explanations of the enduring prosperity of the series must be learned from elsewhere. After all, there is little to discern this Nora Roberts novel from any of her hundreds of others, or the thousands of others published by an endless list of similar best-selling authors. For many the prospect of inner-connected stories is appealing. Mills & Boon has shown a propensity for rolling, casually-linked novels, often involving the siblings of what are presumably Catholic parents. Therefore The MacGregor collection is hardly unique, but perhaps where Roberts has deviated from the standard scenario is in the scale in which her family inhabit the world. This is one spectacular dynasty, a Kennedy-like clan without the assassinations, open marriages and despicable patriarch. Alan MacGregor becomes U.S. President, and elsewhere there are doctors, artists, architects, entrepreneurs, lawyers and the women they wed. Even the assortment of gamblers make good. Many marry into equally wealthy families and their fictional status within an idealised world blossoms unrealistically without so much as a raised eyebrow from the reader.
There are few romance novels more fantastical than The MacGregor's unless you delve into the murky world of Paranormal, and although the pastoral locations and perfect people who populate the books have a tendency to trip onto the wrong side of parody there is plenty to recommend the extremities of Roberts' work. Mills & Boon followers choose fantasy over earthy realism and the best authors shovel the sappy romance on thick. If the heroes are gorgeous, charming, decent, successful and rich then why not have them as gorgeous, charming, decent, successful and rich as possible? This is as formulaic and stereotypical as romance fiction gets, but it would be almost impossible to exaggerate these characters and scenarios any further without losing the audience. This is the fine line Roberts must tread, but her readers seem willing and able to forgive the worst indulgences because they are complicit in enjoying the commitment to excess. As repeatedly noted during the reviewing process Roberts exacerbates her errors with her chosen format. The three revealing briefs only serve to underline the glaring lack of variety and insight. DC, Duncan and Ian are as tedious and forgettable as their names. The heroines are given depth and neuroses largely because Roberts has written The MacGregor family without physical or emotional flaws. Therefore each glorious specimen of masculinity cures a twenty-something woman of whatever is bothering her through handsomeness, money and genitals. Layna did not believe in love because her parents lived a sham marriage, but then she fell in love because DC is dreamy and fear was defeated. Cat wanted everything and got it because Duncan already had everything and was willing to share in exchange for sex. Finally Naomi was a virgin and an idiot, but Ian had a patient penis and happened to be an idiot too.
Just as important as all the marriages was the birth of Fiona Joy, Julia's second child. With this lengthy diversion being of no narrative necessity, it can be assumed that the MacGregor legacy is of equal significance to the romance for the fans of the series. Although Roberts concluded the franchise with the follow-up to The MacGregor Grooms, there was no particular need not to continue, despite the fact that Daniel Duncan cannot be immortal and what would the books become without the irascible patriarch drunkenly pulling the strings? Roberts plays upon soap opera machinations with these multi-generational novels as wealth accumulates, couples tie the knot, babies are born and attractive people do exciting things in expensive locations, but for the sake of wistful love she does away with the fighting, tension and obstacles that might heighten the drama of an inconsequential flirtation into a compelling saga. Yet such alternations could have been simply accomplished and therefore the dull, pleasant nothingness of The MacGregor Grooms is not only intentional, but key to the unchallenging charm. If sales had been disappointing, or even average, there would be little else to comment on. Thus for the sake of putting this sorry episode behind us, let us perpetuate the delusion that sales were disappointing.
When we escaped from Part Three of The MacGregor Grooms at the end of the third chapter life was rosy for Boston's favourite son, eligible bachelor of law Ian MacGregor. Business was thriving, he was ridiculously gorgeous, his family were mostly married and pregnant and he knew that nothing bad would ever happen to anyone he came into contact with. Recently he had bought his dream house and kissed his dream woman, the luminous Naomi Brightstone, after their perfect first date. Plans for the future included more of the same, with the heart-warming prospect of repeatedly crashing waves of tumbling passion into Naomi, leading to multiple trouble-free pregnancies and a lifetime of effortless bliss, with no danger of his looks fading, his health failing, his grandparents dying or a doubt ever entering his hairy head. Despite this, there remained seven chapters to read. Would Nora Roberts create a conflict to bulk out her thin tale, or would she follow the suit of Parts One and Two, which filled one hundred pages full of words without anything of note actually taking place? How does she do it? Is this the Nora Roberts magic that has made her one of the most successful authors in the world?
Ian is the son of Caine and Diana. Caine is the son of Daniel Duncan 'The MacGregor' MacGregor and his wife, Anna 'His Wife' Whitfield. Diana, impossibly, is the sister of Justin Blade, who married Serena MacGregor, and are parents of Duncan 'The Blade' Blade, who met and married Cat 'Banshee' Farrell in Part Two. Caine and Diana have a daughter, Laura, who married Royce 'Big Shoes' Cameron. Laura, Caine and Ian work at the family law firm, helpfully named MacGregor & MacGregor. Taking centre stage during what should be the love story between Ian and Naomi 'Four Eyes' Brightstone is Julia Campbell Murdoch, brother of Daniel 'DC' Campbell from Part One and daughter of former President of the United States Alan 'Big Al' MacGregor and Shelby 'First Lady' Campbell. Julia and husband Cullum 'Waterboy' Murdoch have one child, Travis, but Julia is heavy with a second. Skilled with the same impeccable timing as her sibling, parents, grandparents and cousins, the baby makes a dash for the light slapbang in the middle of Ian's careful seduction of Naomi, throwing all manner of life lessons the way of the idiotic characters, who somehow achieve happiness despite Nora Roberts' complete inability to capture anything remotely realistic about human beings in her stories.
Shortly after their first locking of lips and souls, Ian casually invites Naomi to dinner at his house. While sexual conquest and conversations about libraries await, he first must deal with his favourite cousin's hunt for candy. The chocolate-loving tapeworm living inside Julia's womb has been affectionately nicknamed Butch, but will grow into adulthood with the similarly lesbian-inducing moniker of Fiona Joy. Soon enough Naomi arrives with her friendly mix of social anxiety and M&M's. Julia's hunger for sugar and keen eye for the shapely feminine form means the two girls strike up an immediate, and heavily erotic, friendship. Right on schedule Cullum arrives, Julia exits and Naomi and Ian are alone with wine, tomato sauce and their timeless beauty. Not wishing to waste time on pleasantries and coat-taking Ian closes his mouth over Naomi's, stifling a startled moan, and presses his manhood against her yearning stomach. Naomi is stunned, but moreover she develops a sensation unbeknownst to her. Is this the attraction and male erection she had until now only read about in books a smart girl such as her really shouldn't be bothering with?
Naomi then makes an admission that has ruined a perfectly good dinner on numerous occasions, she is inexperienced in the ways of carnal passion, her innocence and virginal looks more literal than Ian had expected. He is flabbergasted, but what kind of MacGregor would he be if he didn't know his way around a virgin, and what kind of disgrace would he bring on his family if he didn't choose a virgin as his bride? Nevertheless, Ian is a gentleman and a saint so he allows Naomi to leave the house with her purity in tact, having already stripped her of her dignity and any lingering notions of self-belief. For Naomi the mortifying embarrassment of her personal life is only a constant distraction from Brightstone's, the hippest, most swingingest joint in all of Boston. Despite such fantastical plot points as a successful bookstore, we quickly return to the burgeoning courtship as Ian tries a different approach, Platonic chivalry, but how long can this façade continue? After all, he loves her and she loves him, but can two people who love one another and have nothing stopping them from getting together find love and make a life together?
Sensing something of a narrative impasse Nora Roberts deploys as many MacGregor's as possible. First Naomi is invited to Girl Day, a day where grown women eat ice cream and brownies and then dish on boys and giggle to bad television they openly adore watching. Naomi has never acted with any degree of femininity before, but soon makes lifelong friends with Laura, Julia and everyone's favourite cousin, Gwen. She is a beautiful, intelligent and successful doctor, Duncan Blade's sister and wife of Branson Maguire, the handsome, smart and eminent author. Discussing Ian, Naomi reveals the dark secret that explains the medical condition plaguing the hero, what Gwen fails to technically define as epididymal hypertension. Laura shrieks with laughter at Naomi's revelation of her untouched status, though none of the girls are fit to judge. As characters in Nora Roberts novels they were all virgins before meeting their husbands. Having learnt the reasons why Ian has been keeping his distance and juddering with a contorted face every time she brushes against him Naomi rushes to him with only one thing on her mind. After the life-affirming and unprotected sex the new couple continue in their efforts until Naomi has become a worn-out, proverbial village bicycle, in a village where only Ian lives.
Thereafter Julia enters Brightstone's and promptly breaks water. Naomi takes panicked charge, organising the ambulance and then frantically pacing the hospital corridor while the extended MacGregor clan casually relax, make lucrative business deals and stare admiringly at mirrors. When Ian finally arrives she lambastes him for his aloof attitude, but as an outsider she is unaware that there are no complications or traumas in a MacGregor birth. Those babies walk out onto silk sheets with flawless bone structures and a trust fund. The celebrations are kept to a minimum as another favourite cousin is surely due any day as well, but the men swig scotch and smoke cigars while the women do womanly things, and everyone accepts Naomi into the family. All this happiness is too much for her, however, because Naomi is not the beautiful, confident business owner her physical appearance, personality and career make her out to be. Ashamed beyond sense, Naomi confesses the awful truth. She used to be fat, doesn't find herself sexually attractive and needs a self-made computer program to dress her in the mornings. As hard as she finds this to say it isn't even close to being as hard as it is for Ian to hear, or the reader to read. He duly frees her of her obligation to love him eternally, hoping that once she has lived for herself, and had several affairs with swarthy foreigners on motorcycles, she will return to him an assured young women who knows what she wants from life.
It takes a little over a chapter of mild abuse from The MacGregor and Caine to help Ian realise he is a sexist jerk who may claim to love Naomi, but can't claim to respect her or value her as a person. Still, the thought of six sexless months is too much to bear, and Ian sprints to Naomi's door, where they put the whole sorry episode behind them and get down to the important business of baby-making and wealth consolidation. There the story thankfully ends, with the slightest recognition of a man's doltish behaviour and a woman's blessed capacity for patience and forgiveness. In many ways this hints at completed and satisfying characters arcs, but any such assessment would be foolishly misguided. There is nothing within Part Three of The MacGregor Grooms to recommend it, despite Ian's brave attempt at appearing down-to-earth and Naomi's inability to notice her own comeliness. Even at their most neurotic and tentative the characters were absurd caricatures of idealised romantic creatures, and while it is impossible to question their motivations for wanting one another, the story proved unable to justify their actions. The necessary deviations from the central concept only confirmed how thin the story was, making the failure at credibility all the more galling. With a final word from his memoirs, The MacGregor acknowledges the passing of time, but even though his piss and vinegar have turned into an urinary infection and a drinking problem, he still carries the threat of spin-offs.
To break up the arduous task of reading The MacGregor Grooms this very weblog has been working its way through Secrets Uncovered, the Mills & Boon how-to e-book. Nearing the end of what once seemed an inexhaustible pit of absurdity and education we finally covered the topic of laughter and whether emotionally galling romance fiction could also contain witticisms and handsome billionaires walking into things. After our brush with Liz Fielding and her unique brand of joke-free comedy there was one question every Bewildered Heart would have wanted to ask had they existed. What is this RIVA we keep pretending to hear about for the sake of an article? With such pressing concerns pending, a further exploration of the RIVA subgenre is called for, to allow for a complete comprehension of what one is or does, and why we, reluctant readers and aspiring authors, might choose to make this our category romance of choice.
For what we unrealistically hope for is more on the subject we turn to Mills & Boon itself, as their submission guideline web-page spells out the important technical information, such as word count, head office location and meaningless editor names, before opening their pitch with a failed attempt at an understandable sentence. 'Riva is a vibrant, exciting new stream of editorial for readers who enjoy authors such as Louise Bagshawe, Tasmina Perry, Marian Keyes.' None of those writers are published by the flowing body of liquid that is RIVA, and for those Bewildered Hearts happily ignorant of Bagshawe, Perry and Keyes' editorial a little additional clarification would be helpful. 'Upmarket, glossy and sharply contemporary, these stories sparkle with wit, humour, passion and emotion!' This is tremendous news for those readers tired of criss-crossing between two sources for their wit and humour needs. RIVA not only offers both, but mixes them with the two elements that everyone would expect from a romantic novel.
Apparently RIVA goes by the much more straight-forward name of Harlequin Presents® Extra & Harlequin® Romance. With that confusion out of the way readers can discover what to expect when opening the upmarket, glossy and potentially hazardous pages of one such book. Harlequin, we prefer our stories hot and steamy, do you have something for the sexual deviant within? 'If you like your stories hot & steamy then you’ll love the Rivas written by original, fresh authors such as Heidi Rice, Natalie Anderson, Kelly Hunter and Kimberly Lang, formerly published in Mills & Boon Modern Heat.' Of course, Bewildered Heart remembers a little something from our previous dealings with Modern Heat, a subgenre with a dark red cover that suggestively hinted at the heavy erotic content and dreary lack of story revealed on the pages of One Night with the Rebel Billionaire. Modern Heat was defined by the two words that made up its moniker. While there already existed a Modern subgenre, Modern Heat took all the topical issues plaguing attractive twenty-seven-year-old virgins with thriving careers, threw in the generic hero, and ramped up the sexual euphemisms from the embarrassing to the redundant.
'These entertaining romances reflect the life experiences of today’s young women, within a chic, glamorous, and usually urban setting. They offer international glamour, passion with a flirty young voice and a whole load of sass!' Indeed, these are novels for the many modern women who enjoy their jet-set experiences of global allure with a healthy dose of feisty sarcasm. Unfortunately these wealthy, fun-loving singletons can't seem to find a handsome, sensitive billionaire in their real lives and have nowhere else to turn but to the romance books they read aboard their private planes. Speaking of such people, 'The heroines are often your twenty-something girls-about-town but there's no compromising on the hero: he must be very alpha and absolutely to die for! There’ll be sparks flying when these two meet – and nothing short of fireworks once they get to the bedroom!' Say no more, Mills & Boon, the writing world is now all too aware that the women of today want their archetypal romances with plenty of flowery language depicting all three of the sexual acts.
While the guidelines stress the importance of retaining the desirable male stereotype they do seem willing to accommodate original subversions of their twenty-something urban professional heroines, allowing the novelist freedom to shake up the tired conventions of girls-about-town and explore the possibilities of ladies-around-the-city and women-of-the-night. Their main stipulation, however, pertains to her voice. She is confident, straight-talking and independent. She knows what she wants from her career and from her personal life, but she would be prepared to give all that up for a suitable husband. Before you begin scribbling or typing, gentle authors, Mills & Boon has more information to reveal about RIVA, and naturally this information contradicts everything that has gone before. Because Harlequin, we prefer our stories flirty and sweet, do you also have something for the easy-going prude within? 'If you like your stories flirty & sweet then you’ll love the Rivas written by flirty, young voices such as Liz Fielding, Jessica Hart, Nina Harrington and Fiona Harper, formerly published in Mills & Boon Romance.' Traditionally the Romance Romance subgenre was defined by its heartfelt love stories, revolving around single parents thinking first of their children and only then of their wanton carnal hunger. With the more adult themes of divorce, death and ageing kept to the Cherish imprint, RIVA aims itself at a more youthful demographic.
'These stories should reflect the experiences of today’s young women – whether it be dating disasters, juggling a work/life balance or overcoming a broken heart. Each story should have an emotional core with believable emotional conflicts but told in an upbeat, fun, contemporary way.' There are more suitable avenues for novels concerning sadness and credible sentimental resonance. In RIVA there must be a lightness of touch to the drama, where a fit of depression can be easily overcome by some flirting with the perfect man over a low calorie cupcake. Speaking of such men, 'The hero should be sexy, aspirational and the romantic tension should sizzle, but when it comes to the bedroom – the door should be firmly closed.' Yes, unlike RIVA, those purveyors of purple, pornographic prose, RIVA would ask their authors to restrict themselves to flirtatious kissing and upbeat dry-humping before coyly turning to describe the fireplace.
The key ingredients to writing the perfect romance for the RIVA imprint therefore focus on the skilled use of flirting, the creation of the archetypes that dominate the entire romance genre and telling stories that capture what it means to be young, feisty, twenty-seven years old, possibly a virgin, skilled at flirting and gallivanting through built up areas tackling work, love, feelings and fashion with a loving spoonful of sassiness. 'We are open to romantic comedies, first person narratives and interesting twists on classic romantic themes.' Mills & Boon always end on the illusion that they are intelligent editors on the look out for exciting new voices with ground-breaking ideas, but when it comes to RIVA there might be a little truth to this notion. After all, the chick-lit trend of a decade ago is dying a slow, albeit watchable, death. Here Harlequin has positioned itself at the centre of this shift in tastes, but unlike the global behemoths of Fifty Shades and Twilight the first person narrators of RIVA are not the simpering, naval-gazing excuses for women that have seen James and Meyer to obscene wealth. Instead they are the empowered, superficial excuses for women that have seen sales in chick-lit plummet.
During Bewildered Heart's travels through the morass of romantic fiction there have been the occasional oddities, ranging from the discovery of a NASCAR subgenre to learning how sadomasochism has become the new stiletto made of cupcakes. While it remains naïve to claim that there are no further surprises awaiting us there is a subject that continues to elude Mills & Boon, and that is comedy. While the publishers have released titles such as Cowboys are For Loving, Accidental Princess and The Midwife's Glass Slipper there are no signs that formulaic romance novels are anything more than unintentionally hilarious. This is a disappointing development, but the argument is passionately refuted by numerous romance writers who either can't take a joke or don't understand sarcasm. For additional insight we return to Secrets Uncovered where those lovable Mills & Boon editors have turned their fleeting attention to this pressing matter, searching through their stable of authors and finding Liz Fielding, romance fiction's funny one.
Fielding has so far committed over sixty novels to paper and technological devices. Now she has designs on presenting Mythbusters with their most tedious episode yet. 'My job is to bust the all pervading myth that humour and Mills & Boon are mutually exclusive. Incompatible.' Well, humour is subjective and the majority of romance books are laughable, so is there any reason to believe Harlequin is a publisher of nothing but dour, po-faced stories featuring serious characters having earnest conversations and no talking animals? How to raise a smile, or even a gentle chuckle then, without resorting to predictable tactics such as jokes and slapstick? 'I don’t write jokes and I don’t do slapstick, but humour is part of our everyday lives and I want it to be part of my characters’ lives, too. There is nothing sexier than a man with a sense of humour. Nothing more charming than a girl who knows how to laugh at herself.' Even the most cursory glance at the genre suggests that while a sense of humour is sexually desirable it does not come close to comparing to physical beauty, money or personal hygiene, as Mills & Boon titles, as well as Mills & Boon writers, have testified to. A well-groomed, handsome billionaire trumps a balding, flabby wit every time. Sorry, balding, flabby wits. At least you still have the internet.
Liz Fielding writes for RIVA, which is possibly an acronym. She discredits herself as both a writer and a contributor to a writing guide with a bullet-pointed list that seems either wildly inaccurate or scarily simplistic. 'I want (the characters) to be able to laugh even when they’re crying, because that’s what real people do. Humour in romance is an extra layer that can lift a dark moment, give depth to a scene.
• You have what is being said – funny.
• What is being felt – emotional.'
Perhaps this is not a general rule for aspiring authors everywhere, but rather a deeply misguided attempt to define the meanings of words. Emotions are certainly feelings, but surely the art of writing is more complicated than characters making puns while slowly dying inside. Hopefully Liz will follow her list with a beneficial explanation. 'That’s what humour will bring to your stories. The potent mix of laughter and tears that we’re all familiar with.' Precisely, when people aren't sobbing uncontrollably they are giggling breathlessly, and this is what Liz Fielding aspires towards, a combination of soppy emotional manipulation and observational witticisms, reducing her reader to one of two extreme reactions that make it impossible to read.
Now that humour has been clearly defined the next stage of the lesson concerns how to lace it into your heartfelt novel about a billionaire European Prince working as a bellhop and falling in love with a chambermaid who has forgotten what feelings feel like. 'What makes us laugh and cry is who we are, and can never be forced. It only works as part of our unconscious writing voice, something that comes naturally.' Despite this advice being entirely useless, and tricky to read, it does recall a recurring theme of Secrets Uncovered that establishes the importance of a strong, unaffected author's voice. Once the potential writer approaches their work honestly, with enthusiasm and a passion for the genre their personality should shine through, enlivening their prose with humour and sincerity. If this fails to happen then the writer should take solace in the knowledge that they are too good for romance fiction and can return to their families, friends and a life of productive duties. However, if the writer insists on persevering then Fielding has a few ideas for zany situations liberally stolen from classic screwball comedies of the 1940s.
'For example:
• The hero who pretends to be cooking a fabulous meal for a glamorous blonde – but with a cook hiding out in the kitchen doing all the work.
• The heroine who, while working as a cleaner, is writing a diary column for “Milady” magazine as Lady Gabriella March. The heroine who opens the door in her scrubbing the floor clothes to be confronted by the hero – and casually tosses her rubber gloves over her shoulder in an attempt to look a little less of a fright.'
Someone should check through the bibliography of Liz Fielding for novels eerily similar to Christmas in Connecticut. There has always been something suspicious about Kwanzaa in Kansas, but it seemed inappropriate to single that one out. At this point Liz Fielding moves on, satisfied she has dealt with the topic of comedy, yet knowing no discussion of humour and emotion would be complete without talk of what an emotion is. 'As human beings, we’re bombarded with emotions. They are the most simple and complex of feelings.' Before Liz gets too technical this is a suitable point to ignore her lengthy descriptions of different emotions and how those emotions make people feel and how those people then react to the feelings brought about by the emotions. Instead a few paragraphs down Fielding ruminates on how to use this innate human skill-set to make your reader react with either a laugh from the mouth or the secretion of clear salty fluid from the glands of their eye. 'Romantic fiction is character led and what brings readers back to our books time and time again is the emotion and the laughter generated by the conflicts, problems, heartaches that we toss in their path like so many hand grenades.'
There is no obstacle quite like a high number of hand grenades, but unless your heroine has fallen for an attractive, yet clumsy, hand grenade salesman the hand grenades must be metaphorical, and instead represented by internal conflicts such as surprise pregnancies, hidden identities, lack of sexual experience, lycanthropy, thinly-veiled misogyny, father issues or the classic, reliable conflict of realistically reacting to being seduced by an enigmatic, gorgeous billionaire with a self-depreciating sense of humour. 'Our reader wants to experience what the heroine is feeling. The excitement, the raised heart rate, the pounding pulse. An attraction that is all the more exciting, compelling, because she believes that it must be resisted.' These are the narrative issues every author must resolve before writing, although most resort to contrivances and word-wasting in lieu of rationality and plot twists. When this article began we were promised an examination of how to interlace humour into our profound love story. Instead Liz Fielding has offered us unhelpful clichés, a list of emotions and the vaguest notion of what makes a good romance novel without any indication of how to under-take the task, which in itself turns out to be the perfect example of how to write successfully for Mills & Boon.
As a prospective career in romance fiction writing appears a distant dream unattainable through work or talent Bewildered Hearts are encouraged to take faith in unlikely success stories and genre phenomenons such as Nora Roberts, the world's most prolific author. The dedication she shows to her craft is so great she only occasionally takes breaks, and during those brief holidays she writes futuristic police procedurals under the name J.D. Robb, the world's second most prolific author. During these last few weeks we have been coping with the task of reading about another of her franchise families, the insensitively affluent MacGregor clan. In Parts One and Two of the overly verbose The MacGregor Grooms Roberts has married off the wealthy, gorgeous and talented painter D.C. and the rich, handsome and brilliant gambler and small business owner Duncan. Nevertheless, however many that is now is still not enough for the serial matchmaker Daniel MacGregor. As a result, the wily old wino has set his gaze on grandson Ian MacGregor, a prosperous, attractive and intelligent lawyer. Ian has recently bought a large house somewhere near Boston, Massachusetts, and has begun to fill it with tasteful, expensive furniture. Damn it, barks Daniel to no one in particular, won't this boy ever settle down?
As with all men Ian needs a woman, a steady, calming influence to nurture him and be pregnant with his children. Therefore Daniel begins to scour the state for eligible, single ladies and who better than Naomi Brightstone, who just took over the family business, Brightstone's, Boston's most respected and idealised bookstore. Not only has Naomi over-hauled the shop in light of the dwindling fortunes of street-front booksellers, adding a coffee bar and children's section, but she has also over-hauled herself, in light of the dwindling fortunes of overweight, ugly women who smell funny. Now she wears perfume and make-up, dresses in outfits that accentuate her slim, yet shapely, figure and has halted her shy, secluded existence behind shelves of novels. All she needs to finish her transformation is the contract officially confirming her as partner in the business, and a lawyer is bringing those papers over personally, and not just any lawyer, but a lawyer from the law practise of MacGregor & MacGregor, only the most beautiful, lucrative law practice on the planet.
MacGregor & MacGregor is the family business, where Ian works with his sister, the eminent, stunning and gifted Laura Cameron and possibly other members of his endless family. Ian has one final stop to make before he can head home. He has to personally deliver the freshly-drawn up papers to Brightstone's, where he must also unearth some first editions as a favour to his grandfather. After some reminiscing about his perfect childhood Ian meets Naomi and an enduring tale of love has begun to be unfurled. Naomi can't help but be impressed by Ian's charms, good looks, muscular frame, smarts, finances and confidence. Equally, Ian is taken by Naomi's scent, reading glasses and her most noticeable trait of being a woman. Days later and Naomi has plucked up the courage to visit Ian at his office and drop off the last of The MacGregor's book orders. What she lacks in nerve and self-belief is quietly made up for in narrative necessities, and a date is made, ostensibly to celebrate Naomi's career-achievement, but in actual fact to allow she and Ian to continue sniffing one another and sighing.
After a light bout of physical intimidation Ian displays his affection for the finer things in life, taking Naomi to a fancy restaurant where they discuss Celtic music, old things and other obscure pastimes to prove they are a couple with common interests. With everything going smoothly, the candlelight stirring romantic feelings and the silk-flavoured wine loosening inhibitions, Ian reveals his devastating tactic to keep Naomi in his life. He wants to build a library in his resplendent house. Having researched libraries on the internet Ian discovered they are filled with books, much like bookshops, so who better to help stack books into a room than the manager of Brightstone's, a bookshop that is literally filled with books? Naomi is naturally disappointed, but remains philosophical. Of course, what would a dishy and flourishing MacGregor child want with a formally dowdy potato-chip-eater like her? With the meal dispensed with and few calories consumed the date concludes outside Naomi's home, but no sooner did Roberts introduced her potential conflict of mixed signals and misunderstood verbal gestures does she negate it completely, as Ian lowers his head and luscious flow of thick, masculine hair to passionately kiss Naomi on her timid, feminine lips to reveal any number of proverbial rainbows, clouds and low-carb cupcakes.
As Nora Roberts subtly exposes Naomi as nothing more than a woman the third chapter ends and the spirited race from respectful courting to life-affirming sex to blissful matrimony has wasted little time on the respectful courting stage. As with D.C., Duncan and every other hero in Roberts' series, Ian the lawyer is a spectacular example of the glorified male. Within a handful of pages Naomi has surrendered to his will, overwhelmed by his presence and ability to speak. However, there are allusions to the difficulties that lie ahead. Unlike the previous two heroines Naomi is the polar opposite of the secure, emotionally-stubborn Cat Farrell and the possessed, uptight Layna Drake. While D.C. was able to break down the latter's prim exterior through the use of sex and compliments, Duncan had to conquer the vulnerability within Cat through the use of sex and gifts. Despite these eye-opening differences, Naomi has neither the sexual confidence of Cat nor the independent determination of Layna. After all, she is a work-in-process, an introverted virgin who has only ever read about compliments in encyclopaedias. How does a man make a wife out of such disarray and anxiety? Through the use of sex, gifts and compliments perhaps?
If anyone knows the answers to those questions we can assume Nora Roberts has a semblance of an idea, as she wrote the story and it is doubtful she will throw around trite psychological epiphanies and thoughtless scenes of casual sexism in a deluded belief this will satisfy the reader. As is typical of her focus throughout these revealing briefs Roberts switches the point of view with jarring regularity, but merely uses the opportunity to helpfully reinforce how marvellous Ian is. The MacGregor himself rears his head on two occasions, breaking from a scotch to abuse Ian's answerphone and then as the centre of conversation during the dinner, as his grandchildren have been taught to always twist flirtatious banter into an anecdote about an elderly relative. His work here, however, seems rather unnecessarily. Within moments of their initial meeting hero and heroine appear made for one another, because they were made for one another by a lazy author struggling with a deadline. Ian has designs to settle down and take a wife, and Naomi is the first woman he sees having come to this decision. Meanwhile, Naomi is powerless against male sexuality and has no thoughts or ideology to call her own. As The MacGregor lies back for his mid-afternoon nap he can rest off his stupor easily, safe in the knowledge that this is one love story that will not warrant one of his needless cameos, although it may require some of his alcohol.
