I thought I’d share a talk I gave on “The Substance of Romance” for the University of Pennsylvania Humanities Forum almost fifteen years ago (October 17th 2002)! I am indebted to Anne Maxwell/Elizabeth Lowell for her ideas included in a talk she gave at a Novelists Inc. conference many years ago. I don’t have the dates, but do know I have internalized her insights on literature/popular fiction and incorporate them here. Hope you enjoy! Isabel Swift
I love reading romances. I love reading what might be termed “literary” romances. I love reading romances that are part of what would be defined as “popular fiction.”
Today I will be taking you through: a definition of terms; a brief historical framework of the genre; the wide ranging, broad and successful aspect of romances; criticisms the genre faces. But I plan mostly to focus on the remarkable timeless appeal of the romance genre, how it crosses boundaries of time & culture, how it has changed and continues to change as it continues to grow and thrive
So what is a romance? It is a work of fiction where the focus of the story is on the developing relationship between two people. The story’s climax resolves it and delivers a sense of emotional “justice” and satisfaction.
As with any genre, there must be essential narrative elements, or it’s not a romance: The center of the story is a love story with an emotionally satisfying ending. Archetypic narrative elements broadly include 5 things: Meeting; Attraction; Barrier; Destruction of barrier; Declaration.
In a tale well told, the destruction of that barrier frees the characters from their constraints. It empowers them to choose; it enables them to act, and the reader rejoices.
The genre is a diverse one, with many sub-genres, from contemporary to historical romances: Sexy, Sweet, Suspense, Paranormal, Humorous, Fantasy, Inspirational, Western, Regency…the possibilities are endless and endless possibilities have been explored. Romances have a universal and timeless appeal.
There is no unanimously agreed upon “first” romance, though romantic texts have been cited as early as the 4th Century B.C. The crusades, Arabian fables & chivalry all incorporate elements of romance. But in 1740 Samuel Richardson’s PAMELA delivered a clear romance novel and a best-selling one at that (interestingly beloved of both men & women at the time). In Clara Reeve’s Progress of Romance (1785) she notes that: Novels were seen as “pictures of real life and manners, and of the times in which they were written.” Whereas romances used “lofty and elevated language, describing what has never happened, nor is likely to.”
Some of what we see now as “overblown” prose clearly springs from this historical vision of romance. Henry Fielding (1707-1754) an 18th Century kind of guy who wrote a take-off on PAMELA— SHAMELA scorned romances. Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832) a 19th Century type of guy and a “romantic” scorned a novelist like Jane Austen (1775-1817). But both Scott and Austen wrote romances —one wrote larger than life stories, drawn on a sweeping canvas; one more intimate tales, realistic and of the times.
Romances, in general, represent over half adult popular mass market fiction, depending on your definition of “romance.” It was a 1.5 billion dollar industry last year (2001), with more than 2,000 titles released. 50 million women in North America read romances. Clearly romances are a vital element of our lives and in our literature. The stories cross cultures. They cross centuries. They continue to have phenomenal appeal.
While I want to focus on exploring that appeal, I did want to respond to some of my favorite criticisms of the genre: I must note that almost all criticisms are voiced by people who declare, without shame, I might add, that they’ve never actually read any romances. Interestingly, they do not see this fact as a disqualification for an opinion!
There’s the “pornography” one, which I can’t imagine anyone who has ever read a romance lending any credence to. The essence of a romance is about the unique rightness of uniting these particular two people and the challenges they face in creating a good partnership. The stories are about both the emotional and physical connection, body and soul. Some romances are certainly sexy, but the physical is always in the context of a connection between two unique people.
Romances are sometimes faulted for having romantic conventions and being part of a genre. Like Homer (and I feel that one could convincing argue that the Odyssey is a quintessential romance) and the Homeric epithet, these familiar elements are ways the teller of the tale communicates to her reader that she is in a genre, a world both familiar and new. While humans can enjoy change and uncertainty, many also enjoy elements in their life that can be depended on and are relaxing. The issue of “sameness” is the point, not the problem. If we turned some of these principals to, say, sports, I think we’d find some interesting commonalties and insights.
162 baseball games every year—year after year. Football, basketball, hockey, all are much the same. Same number of players, same positions. Now isn’t that boring? Don’t guys get tired of it? Don’t they wish everyone just switched places every inning or so? Or we added a few players? Or took some away? Just think of what the response would be to that. Outrageous! Absurd! It wouldn’t be baseball! (or football, or whatever). By the same token, a romance without the essential elements would not be a romance, it would not deliver the key elements that inspired the reader to select that genre and that story to begin with.
People decide to watch a basketball game because they want to watch a certain number of players of a particular sex play in a specific setting under a clear set of rules. And even within basketball, viewers are highly specific, many preferring to watch only professional or college or women’s basketball (or whatever). The rules are different; it’s a more exciting game, or less political (or whatever). Now that seems to me to be a fairly rigidly codified entertainment viewing experience, doesn’t it? Yet those same viewers express surprise at hearing similar types of preferences voiced with reading romances. Go figure.
With the sports viewing experience one could argue it is the suspense of finding out who wins that makes each game interesting. But the fact is that some people enjoy suspense, I really don’t.
Romance readers enjoy reading about relationships; they are interested in how the relationship puzzle is worked out. We read because we are optimistic, and we enjoy the genre’s assurance that sometimes things work out for the best. We believe in the positive power of love and in its ability to overcome obstacles. It gives us strength and hope as we face our own lives and the world we live in. In the stories the heroine, and she is a heroine, not a “protagonist” has a right to find happiness. She must discover what that means for her, which is often a process of self discovery and self acceptance. She must also have the courage to go after it. And happiness may not be what is expected.
Romances are usually by, for and about women. The heroine is the center, it is her story. They are stories of empowerment, stories where women succeed, her values are confirmed, her beliefs are validated. Ultimately, love is seen as a vitally important ingredient to life by both sexes. And all are worthy of love. But before hero or heroine can surmount the “barrier” they each must become a more complete and whole person. Strong enough to partner with another, to love and be loved.
And who does not want to be loved, valued and appreciated for who we are? Most also want to grow, succeed and be challenged to be more. Romances celebrate the commonalties and the differences, and each story strives to find that resonant middle ground. Romances explore the compromises we must make to live with others. To understand what are reasonable accommodations, and what are not. They remind us of the challenges of building a relationship, but also the triumphs.
It is hard to live with others and to share! But these are skills we need to work on as humans, we only have to look at the news to understand why.
Ideally the process of the romance story is the alignment of the yin/yang and the expression of the reverse circle in each, black within white, white within black, Jung’s animus and anima. The partnership allows a balance between hero and heroine, freeing the woman to be more independent, sexual, confident; freeing the man to be more vulnerable, emotional, capable of compromise. The whole becomes greater than the sum of its parts and forms the basis for a partnership, a family.
One could divide literature through the ages into tragedy or comedy: Tragedy: usually political, focused on power, often pessimistic, and ends in death. Comedy: focuses on social issues; optimistic, often ends in marriage, a celebration of life.
Romances have a positive, life affirming resolution, a HEA (Happily Ever After). Love stories, or stories with romantic elements don’t necessarily.
If we look at Shakespeare’s tragedies & comedies: Romeo and Juliet, though an intensely romantic love story is, of course, one of his tragedies because they all die. His romances, the Tempest being the best known, ends in marriage & his comedies do too.
Tragedies force us to face our mortality, a difficult, but necessary lesson. Works that address this are often deemed literature. The comic genre has a much harder time catching that “literary” brass ring, but they serve to remind us why it is we are happy to be alive, and why we’d rather not die, though we know we must.
Romances are stories that are meant to be entertaining. They aren’t how-to manuals for life, but they express a belief in life’s possibilities and the potential for chang, even if it is only change within. Romances make you feel good.
Romances authors usually start out or become readers. Their goals are to give back to their readers the pleasure they got from reading. They work to make the reading experience as enjoyable as possible. I don’t think anyone asks how many calories you’ve burned or weight you’ve lost going to the movies, you go to the gym for that! Romance writer’s desire is to entertain, not exercise. Everyone should feel empowered to take some time for pure enjoyment, to relax, refresh and center themselves, whatever that means to them.
Romances remind us of the world’s possibilities and the belief that partnerships, though difficult to establish and maintain, are possible, and can deliver remarkable benefits.
The romance genre springs from universal myths, tales and legends: the moral lessons, quests and the struggle between Good and Evil. Romances celebrate the ability of hero and heroine to have courage and compassion, to challenge themselves, to perservere and transcend obstacles, both real and metaphorical, through the power of love.
And I think we should continue to nurture and cherish those beliefs, now more than ever.
5 0 Read moreLiz Cooper rushed around her apartment collecting everything she should have assembled last night: towels, sunscreen, hat, glasses. She thought she’d have more time this morning. And she would have, if she hadn’t hit the snooze alarm so many times that it shut off for good.
Today she was seeing Kathleen, her best friend since first grade, who had the nerve to marry a great guy who swept her out of Orange County and all the way north to Seattle. While her great guy sweltered at a convention in Atlanta, Kath had taken a bungalow for a week at Huntington Beach. Liz planned to spend all day Saturday with Kath and her three kids. Or what was left of Saturday, after the 30-mile drive to the beach.
Liz glanced around her apartment and quickly confirmed that she was ready to leave. As she slid her half-read novel into the outside pocket of her tote, the phone rang. She grabbed it on the second ring.
“Oh, Liz, you haven’t left yet.” Kath sounded harried. But with three kids under age nine, she always sounded that way.
“Sorry, I’m running late. I’ll be there.”
“No, this is great. My brother called and I need you to pick him up.”
“Pick him up?”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you he’s coming to the beach with us today? The kids haven’t seen Uncle Joey in, like, forever.”
“Joey’s coming with us?” She remembered Kathleen’s bratty brother. The thing about kid brothers was that there was no reason to let them live. When Joey wasn’t releasing captured reptiles into Kath’s bedroom while they played, he was invading Barbie and Ken’s wedding with his army of Imperial Storm Troopers.
“Look, if you want to make this just family . . .”
“Don’t be silly. The kids want to see you and they want to see Joey. You haven’t seen him in years! This’ll be fun!” Kath gushed.
Liz doubted she’d find Joey all that fun, but for Kath and the kids’ sake, she agreed to pick him up. She wrote down the directions to his place, packed her gear and took off.
Before she reached Joey’s address, she saw a tall guy in trunks and T-shirt, dark glasses and carrying a gym bag, standing halfway into her lane. Kath must have told him about her car, because he waved her over with a “Hey, Liz!”
This couldn’t be little Joey. How long since she’d seen him? Seven years, at least. The brat had grown over six feet tall, with muscles filling out those scrawny little arms. The perpetually shaggy dark hair was cut somewhere between military short and businessman sleek. She guessed those three years in the Army did him good. But he’s still Kath’s kid brother, and she had a long memory for his disruptive antics.
“Thanks for the lift.” He tossed the gym bag into the back and folded himself into the passenger seat.
Liz answered noncommittally and headed for the freeway.
They were only 30 miles from the beach, but there was no easy route. The freeway gave way to surface streets, and apparently everyone else was driving to the coast today. She kept the radio turned up just loud enough so that they didn’t have to talk much. But after yet another driver cut in front and forced her to brake quickly, Liz let out a colorful description of what that driver could do to himself.
“Hey, relax, Liz,” Joey said. “We don’t have a deadline.”
“I”ve been running late all day.”
“As usual.”
“What do you mean?’
Joey laughed. “You were always late. Late to school, late to graduation, late to your own wedding.”
Liz glared at him.
“Oh, I guess that’s something we can’t talk about.” He nonchalantly glanced out the window.
“My wedding? I should have been even later and missed it altogether. Talk about mismatched couples.”
“So it’s over?”
“It’s definitely over. Three years now.”
Joey turned his gaze back to the road. The radio was almost loud enough mask his quick “Good.”
The traffic cleared and Liz hit the gas. The car lurched forward then rattled to a stop as the engine died. She turned the key, and the engine rolled over and over, but didn’t catch.
“Damn.” The honking began a few cars back.
“Problem?”
“I think it’s dead,” Liz muttered.
Joey opened his door and hopped out. The honking intensified. “Let’s get off this road.”
With him pushing and her steering, they rolled the lifeless car out of traffic. It glided to a stop on a side street, right in front of an auto shop that looked the least greasy of several lining the road. Liz popped the hood and looked over the engine compartment. She’d hoped she’d find a loose wire or a big switch that said “flip me,” but no such luck.
Liz backed away from the car and crashed into Joey. She whirled around to apologize and found herself just inches away from the guy. He took off his dark glasses and his eyes were oh-so-green. Green like nothing she’d seen in nature. Green like the bottles that hold the most premium beer available. Green and full of mischief, the good kind. The fun and sexy kind. He smiled and ohmigod! he still has dimples. They look so different on his all-grown-up face. So kissable.
Before she could say or do anything that would embarrass her for life, a mechanic came out from the repair shop to see if they needed help. Liz explained the car’s symptoms, got an estimate and handed over the key. The mechanic directed them to a waiting room filled with mismatched plastic chairs, vending machines and a coffeemaker that smelled like it had been heating the same inch of tar-like brew for hours. Joey headed to the soda machine with a handful of change. Liz plopped into a chair and worked to banish her earlier thoughts. Yeah, Joey’s cute, but he’s Kath’s kid brother, and the thing about kid brothers was that they were put on this earth to annoy older sisters and their friends, no matter how hunky they grew up.
Joey handed her a diet soda and took the chair next to her. He popped the tab on his root beer and kept his gaze on her as he drank down the can in one gulp.
Liz popped open her soda. “Sorry. I should have told you the car’s a piece of crap. My alumni association wants my license-plate frame back.”
Joey just smiled.
What does that mean? Liz wondered. She took a deep breath to keep from babbling, as she knew she would given the chance.
“I’ll put in a word for you. I belong to the same alumni association.”
“Since when?”
“What do you think I’ve been doing since I got out of the Army?”
Come to think of it, she did remember Kath saying something about Joey going to their alma mater. “What”s your degree?”
“Liberal arts.”
“Oh, that’s useful.”
He chucked and hook-shot his empty can into the recycling bin. “Actually, I just got accepted at the sheriff’s academy.”
Liz pictured him in a tan uniform and a shiny badge. A very nice image, indeed. She smiled. “Who could resist a man in uniform?”
Joey leaned closer. “I hope you can’t.” And he kissed her.
Liz started to resist, to explain all the reasons why they shouldn’t do this. And there must be a million reasons why they shouldn’t do this. Starting with …uh… Liz ignored all the objections that popped into her head and kissed him back. They could wait.
Joey eased out of the kiss and pressed his forehead against hers. “Nice.”
“You know,”she said, “I’m old enough to be your …”
“…Older sister. So? You’re not 30 yet, and it’s not like 25 is so young for me. Sounds just about right.
Liz grinned. He was right. The thing about kid brothers is that they grow up.
7 0 Read more![]() |
It’s been a rough week.
Make that year.
A lot of stuff going on in my life that sometimes makes me crumble in a heap and ask myself why I keep going.
But I do.
Because I like I what I do. Writing. Some days I love it, other days . . . well, you know the drill.
Recently, I’ve taken on a deadline to write a new book for a Kindle Worlds series (there’s nothing more gratifying than when you’re asked to write for a line), but it’s a short deadline and it’s a genre that’s different than what I’ve been doing (vampires as opposed to princesses — more about that as we hit that March deadline).
But I’m also in a box set with a novella I wrote that releases next week. Now, you’re probably wondering what this has to do with the PBS Civil War series, Mercy Street. It’s simple. After a grueling week of staying up as late as 6 a.m. every night to write my novel and make videos (I do it all — from the voiceovers to the production of the videos with music and graphics), I finally got to watch Episode 3 of Mercy Street.
But not until I uploaded video #18 tonight — yes, I made 18 + 2 more videos in the past week to promote the box set (a 60 second video for each author). Yes, 20 videos in all.
I was bleary-eyed, slumped over, sick of listening to myself on the videos, and crazed over trying to make them perfect little gems (they’re not, but I try).
Then I watched Mercy Street.
***Spoiler alert — if you haven’t seen Episode 3 of Mercy Street, you may want to come back when you have.
Now I love Dr. Foster, the hero. He’s a lot like the hero in my Kindle Scout winner, Love Me Forever (a Civil War time travel romance) and Nurse Mary is like my time traveling heroine. Mary is sick — and the new meanie on the show, a Union officer whose name I don’t want to remember, is sending her away from the hospital (and Dr. Foster).
This is where the resident female rival comes into play. You just can’t help but want to kick Nurse Hastings in the petticoats most of the time, but on this episode she’s a true romance heroine. We find out she lost her soldier love in another war and she has a change of heart about messing up the lives of our doctor and nurse. She sends Dr. Foster back to the hospital hotel in time for him to go to the docks to see Nurse Mary.
Here’s the moment that made my week:
When Dr. Foster jumps onto the steamboat taking our Mary away, he claims her as his patient and comforts her. When he takes her hand and their eyes meet, I wanted to cry. Then he gives her a book. Ulysses. As they quote from the Tennyson tome about not giving up, you know they love each other. He kisses her on the forehead and their hands try to hold onto to each other, but they’re forced to break away. But in spite of the war and the mean old Union major, we know somehow these two will be together again.
Made me proud to write romance.
Because love endures. In spite of everything.
And ain’t that grand.
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Thanks for listening! And in case you’re wondering about all those videos I made, here’s the promo for our Facebook Party next Wednesday, Feb 15th 7:30-11 p.m. (CLICK here to see the vids)
Happily Ever Alpha Facebook Party February 15, 2017 from Jina Bacarr on Vimeo.
See you next time!
Jina
PS — I’m worried about Nurse Mary. She may be sicker than we thought. Tune in next week to find out. I know I’ll be watching . . .
PPS — if you’re curious about the Kindle Scout program:
***You can read my posts about my experience with the Kindle Scout program by clicking on Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, and Part 5
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I have to ask a favor this month . . .
This is going to be a short post. If any of you heard my Christmas promotion video with Joan Reeves (who is the most organized promoter, a fabulous author, and nicest lady), you’ll remember I had a bad cold.
And it put me behind with my writing.
So . . . as I insanely go down the rabbit hole this month to finish my Kindle Worlds novella, Royal Kiss, I’m going to post just a picture from my reading of LOVE ME FOREVER at Lady Jane’s OC Salon at the Ripped Bodice Bookstore last Sunday.
Then as soon as possible, I’ll come back to this post and give you the full scoop on my reading!
Thank you, and yes, my cold is better.
Hugs,
Jina
www.facebook.com/JinaBacarr.author
0 0 Read moreWhen was the last time you wrote a letter?
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Blog: www.jinabacarr.wordpress.com
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Love Me Forever is on sale for the month of December for 99 cents!
Women Soldiers in the Civil War from “Love Me Forever” from Jina Bacarr on Vimeo.
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