A Bitchery reader named Ellen emailed me to say she’d read The Rest Falls Away and had liked it. Her feedback, though, was slightly different from mine, and she owes her perspective, she says, to the fact that she’s a fantasy reader. Her focus was on world building, and the idea that there can easily be more than one hero, or a lack of clarity on who the primary hero is throughout most of the novel, didn’t bother her at all. Seems that’s rather a common feature of fantasy series.
This intrigued me, because I’d never thought about the different perspectives of romance readers and fantasy/sci fi readers, but as the genres bleed into one another more and more of late, it seems like there’s a lot in common between the expectations of each group, and even more that varies.
Before I start blathering on, though, a caveat: I’m using the term “sci fi/fantasy” broadly. Even though I don’t read a great deal of either genre, I do know that the two terms do not describe identical genres, so please understand that I’m not defining inaccurately; I’m trying to be as inclusive when describing a community of readers with similar expectations from their preferred work of fiction. Also, while The Rest Falls Away was the catalyst for my discussion, when I refer to any plot points or elements of plot, characterization or worldbuilding, I’m not referring specifically or obliquely to any perceived flaw in that particular book. I’m speaking generally, making huge, sweeping assumptions with a double-wide trailer-sized brush! Whee!
Hanyway, my email exchange with Ellen and later with Candy caused my interest in the variations in reaction between romance readers and sci fi/fantasy readers, since each group seems to have very different expectations and tolerates variations on themes in disparate ways. While a fantasy/sci fi reader might be totally ok with the potential for multiple – e.g. more than two – heroes, the buffet o’ manly heroic men is something that I’ve personally only started coming across recently. I’ve seen my share of triangles, but there’s more than a few books I’ve read, particularly fantasy or paranormal romances, that feature a manly man smorgasboard. Is this the influence of one into the other? Perhaps. But a mostly-romance reader might feel dicked around by the author if s/he doesn’t have at least an inkling who the hero will be, or a sense of who the heroine likes best. Yet many fantasy series readers—and I’m going to guess that there are more fantasy series than stand alone books, which isn’t as true for fantasy/paranormal romance to the best of my knowledge—are able to handle multiple heroes as part of the development of the series as a whole, and the development of all the characters involved.
To spin it a different way, historical fiction readers, according to one dude I heard speak at that tea I went to last October, expect a fictional story told in a meticulously researched setting, so that all the peripheral details are 110% factually accurate, but the story itself is not – but COULD be true since everything else is. Fantasy readers seem to expect from authors a meticulous job of world building and within that world a set of consistent rules governing the fantastical – e.g. repercussions for use/abuse of magical power – while romance readers might be more accepting of world building flaws, but often NOT tolerant of historical inaccuracy or forgiving of character deviations in terms of romantic coupling.
There’s a good bit in common between each genre but the readers have such different expectations that it’s fascinating to me: how do fantasy readers react to paranormal and fantasy romance novels, both series and stand-alone issues? How do romance readers react to fantasy and sci-fi? I know many of the readers here enjoy heaping piles of both genres, so I have to ask: do your expectations and evaluative standards change when you enter one genre versus another? Do you examine each genre from a different perspective when you read? Obviously, we’re all looking for quality storytelling without flaws like flimsy motivations or obvious deux ex machina endings, but once you’ve started reading a solid story from either genre, do you look for different things? What are the differences, if any, in your expectations?
I’m actually a reader of both genres so I think I’m in an unique position. However, this means that I am probably harsher on romance fantasies or fantasy romances. This is mostly because I think that most of the romance authors are trying to get away with general laziness by marketing their books as straight fantasies when they’re not. Also, it must be considered what the purpose of the book is? I consider fantasy to be a showcase of the world and/or characters. The purpose of a normal fantasy is usually about the quest or the adventure. Romance is definitely character-oriented and the purpose is the romance. The conflict of a romance is HOW will the couple get together whereas the conflict in a fantasy is usually more of how will the hero save the world? It’s completely different because even if the romance had a fantasy plot, the fact that the world is saved is always less important than whether or not the hero and heroine get together.
I’m sure that I sound fairly biased for fantasies but I get seriously annoyed when people choose to write in a genre just for a marketing gimmick. Plus, I’m fairly bitter about it because I read a book that I thought was straight fantasy and turned out to just be a romance book trying to masquerade as one. It was deceptive and it was a crappy book to begin with. Fantasy just has a completely different feel from romance. The deceptive marketing pissed me off to the point that I actually wrote a review of it though (Sorceress of Faith by Robin D. Owens). The review itself might be enlightening of my mindset…
I read a lot of fantasy so I believe I’ve gained a familiarity with the stereotypes as well as an ability to recognize good fantasy writing too. This book might have been a good fantasy read but there were too many factors working against it. First of all, this book really should have been qualified as a romance because that was the whole purpose of the book—to get the heroine together with the love interest. Normally, I enjoy romances in fantasies/fiction but not when the fantasy is subservient to the romance when this book is supposed to be a complete fantasy. However, even if you evaluate this as a romance, it is unfulfilling and incomplete. So, this is a dual review as I will analyze this book as both a romance and as a fantasy.
As a fantasy, the reason I find this book incomplete is that the world is simply not unique enough and is definitely not grounded. The worldbuilding might have been something that the author worked on but it was simply not apparent in this book. It did not help that this was not exactly a stand-alone book. Many of the integral fantastical concepts needed to explain the world of Lladrana seemed to have been introduced in a prior book and the author didn’t seem to even bother explaining any of them in great detail. I did not have the dubious privilege of reading the preceding book as I did not realize this was a sequel so the fact that explanation of any terms was either late or withheld did not help with my immersion in this world. But frankly, I doubt even with all the facts, I would have enjoyed this world very much. Why? There are many reasons why.
First of all, the language is explained as similar to French except a bit different. Normally, this would not be a problem but I am unsatisfied with how Ms. Owens handled the writing on the Lladrana language. I also think that she didn’t put much thought into this language—even if it’s incomplete, there should have been some careful planning on integrating it more thoroughly so that the world is conveyed well. First of all, the term “Exotique” that is used to describe an outsider or alien like Marian sounds dumb because even with the French ending, we all know it just means exotic. Then to have the affirmative in a language be “ayes” when in French, it is “oui” is rather contradictory in my mind as “aye” is used in English so “ayes” is basically just an old form of the English yes with an s added. The language could have been used more successfully if it was just used to name concepts unique to the world of Lladrana like the jerir juice but the fact that English or Latin sounding terms like atomball, Medica, pairling, practicum and Dark is used just makes the language a sad hodge-podge. If I really want to be strict, the fact that Marian seemed to easily attain native fluency of the Lladrana language simply because she is fluent in French means that the writing itself shouldn’t have had nearly so many French words thrown in as it did. “Oeuf” was used to describe an omelette, for godssakes! It means egg in French, there’s really no need to use it just because it looks mysterious to non-French speakers because to people who know what it means, it just jolts them out of the writing. My complaint is that the language is not consistent enough since besides French, English and Latin have been used in the special labels given to places, objects and concepts. Frankly, I don’t know if Ms. Owens even properly researched the French language—perhaps I just dislike languages that are lazy. Seeing stuff like “sangvile” annoys me as it was used in conjunction with other terms like “worms,” “renders,” and “frinks.” Also “sang” is just blood in French so “sangvile” would just mean ‘bad blood’ and it just sounds stupid, in my mind.
Another complaint that I have are the names of characters. Frankly, the names are as much of a hodgepodge as the inconsistent Lladrana language. Marian is an English name, which I can forgive but to have names like Luthan used in the same book as a name like Bossgond and Jaquar is ridiculous to me, especially if the world’s language is supposed to just be a corrupt form of French. What I would say to Ms. Owens is “Make up your mind!” When I see actual quotes that praise an author on her worldbuilding, only to be presented with this sad confusing mix, it’s rather frustrating and decreases the book in my eyes.
Besides the language, the worldbuilding was poor since explanation of foreign concepts was so inconsistent. Sometimes, the term was used and you had to infer what it meant. Other times, if it was explained, it was explained rather blatantly as a primer for the reader and barely disguised—it was a disservice to the reader that Marian automatically got information through various Bonds that she established throughout the book because then it made Ms. Owens’ explanation of the few concepts she bothered to explain very obvious because why bother explaining stuff to someone who already knows it? It just made Marian even dumber to need a reiteration of something she supposedly already gleaned from some stupid Bond she made with someone. An example of a term not explained very well in the book is black-and-white. All I know is that it is some reason to be ostracized and it has something to do with coloring and unstable “Power” that causes epileptic symptoms but I had to infer all of this through context. To make matters worse, this term was first used in the beginning of the book to describe a character in an off-handed manner and I could only figure out this vague and incomplete definition towards the end of the book when enough facts had been accumulated for me to be able to hypothesize a vague idea of what a black-and-white was. The concept probably got dissected ad nauseum as it seems to be a character trait of one of the main characters of the previous book in the series but that doesn’t help the person who is reading THIS book and not that book. There were various other concepts that were not explained well enough, such as why Exotiques are so precious and exactly how the various magical concepts worked. The Lladrana currency, zhiv, was not explained at all even though it got multiple mentions—it would have been the perfect segueway to explaining how the actual Lladrana society worked.
Frankly, the world just read like some idealized form of medieval society with magic, rather than martial might, supporting the feudal system. I caught myself laughing in disbelief because all the medievalesque concepts such as robes, dresses and shoes got “perfected” as Marian’s dress actually CONFORMS to her breasts to give her a built-in bra. Yes, she has magical socks, shoes and clothing that is a magical One-Size-Fits-All. Again, no explanation of why this is so and what the cost of the magic is. All the magic users just seem to have a vague limit and the limit only appears whenever Ms. Owens needs to show off how powerful Marian is. Most of the magic that I read about in this book sounds like dream magic—namely, magic that you can do anything you want with and that you can just have with no cost or explanation. It is not well grounded and not well thought out. About all the explanation for the magic I got is about auras and songs, which just made it seem even more wishy-washy to me. It made the heroine, in my eyes, very much like an all-powerful vehicle for vicarious action. Human beings are normally not all-powerful and even if they had great power, there’s always a cost to something as no matter what kind of world it is, that is just the fact of life. The fact that Marian can control the weather by just CONCENTRATING with only a little mental fatigue as a result increases my sense of detachment. This is a reason why fantasy can get a lot of flack because too many authors think, “Oh, I’ll just explain it away by saying that it’s magic!” No, if there’s magic then there needs to be a rhyme and reason to it—life has some type of order to it even if it’s just birth, living and then death but that is still a system. There is always a cost or consequence to everything. There’s no reason to skip that with magic—even if there’s no science, it just means that magic takes the place of technology. So no, I don’t appreciate the shortcuts I see taken in this book.
Additionally, I would think that someone who was just thrown into the world would be pushed to their limits but I didn’t really perceive any such testing. My God, there are other fantasies of heroes/heroines native to their lands who’ve gone through way more than what Marian’s gone through. Usually, an outsider would have a much harder time than what she seemed to go through—it really does just seem like a cakewalk to me and I don’t think traveling to another world (whether by science or magic) would be that easy. If someone moved to another neighborhood in the same country, there would be adjustments that had to be made and things to grow accustomed to. The feelings of alienation and isolation would be even greater for a person immigrating to another country, much less another world! All I get from the heroine is her wonder at her surroundings and her growing sense of her destiny or some initial confusion over stuff to which her reaction is just a shrug and an “Oh.” Perhaps some lukewarm feelings of companionship with the other Exotique she meets. PUH-LEASE!
So, I have too much contempt for this book as a fantasy. Analyzing this book as a romance, I also have a lot of disdain for it. Why? Because this book happens over a time period of less than a month, if not half a month. You’re telling me that she meets a guy who she’s “attracted” to, sleeps with him and then suddenly they’re in love? I realize that this is a romance cliche but if done well, it is usually not an obstacle to enjoying the book. Yet, I find the execution immature because despite the third person narration, somehow the narration managed to include asides of how HOT the Lladrana men are or how much the men appreciates the exotic breasts of the Exotique women. Yes, excuse me as I spit out my drink in laughter. I could understand lust at first sight but I can’t buy the love—heck, even when Marian has the misunderstanding with the guy (which is a well-worn plot device btw but not a big deal), one of the key things she misses is the sex. Does she know anything about him other than what can be condensed down to a list of character traits? No. All they do when they’re together is think of sex. So yeah, I can’t really take the bond between them very seriously. Frankly, there’s not much chemistry between Marian and the guy besides what the author forces or states. The fact that the “courtship” takes a week at most makes it seem even more forced. Not very natural or irresistible. Marian just makes a few token resistances as well.
Also, much is made of Marian’s being an Exotique. There’s a feeble attempt on Ms. Owens’ part of giving Marian a case of low self-esteem with an occasional comment by Marian of how plump she is but that is greatly offset by the number of times men make comments on the color of Marian’s skin and how it beautiful it looks as it changes colors when she blushes or her hair or her blue eyes or her breasts, etc. If I really wanted to be nasty, I could say that the author’s own opinions about beauty can be seen by this treatment since the Lladrana are described as “slightly Asian in appearance with dark eyes set in golden-toned skin.” The fact that Marian’s ability to blush shows on her fair skin, has blue eyes and that she has breasts is emphasized as an Exotique trait that is exotic and beautiful is rather offputting to me. Again, puh-lease! Of course, emphasizing the heroine’s beauty is a characteristic of a romance novel but all I know about her is relative. It’s all couched in such glowing terms that you can’t help but be skeptical. Even the most beautiful woman in the world would have some flaw. No one is perfect. Marian apparently has no flaw though except for her perception that she’s PLUMP. Heck, when she gets a gigantic streak of white hair, she’s complimented on it—nothing against white hairs but geez, I would think that you would normally freak out about it even if it’s a good thing to have in Lladrana.
The other reason this book doesn’t work as a romance is Marian’s lack of personality. What the heck is it? All I know is she’s some disaffected scholar in the beginning. She gets laid and the power to do whatever she wants, then she’s happy. This describes EVERYONE. I would totally be happy if I got the power to level cities and got to use it without any consequences to myself. For the entire book, all I see is Marian being lead from one scenario to the other by different characters without much direct action on her part. The big confrontations towards the end of the book are anti-climatic. The big fight scene where people are lost did not impact me because most of the losses were nameless background characters. The one loss that might have affected me quickly got explained away. So yeah, Marian has the personality of a jellyfish. I didn’t learn much about her—her supposed transformation is her magical auras and somehow this translates to everything being better. I didn’t see her solve her problems except with a temporary solution since her supposed self-esteem is solved by having a “hot” man want to have sex with her all the time. That’s just a crutch and forces a dependent relationship rather than a relationship of equals. What the […], she’s only considered transformed when all the men start fawning over her. No, I don’t like to define self-sufficiency through the approval of others. Plus, it’s pretty sad that the heroine’s has such a great lack of personality that the personality of what is essentially her beefcake male love interest is actually more interesting, by contrast. Not very good.
There were some funny moments in this book though. I laughed out loud when Ms. Owens tries to show Marian’s moral fiber by having her refuse to use her magic over an ocean just because there are creatures in it that might be harmed by her magic—they’re usually fish or aquatic in nature and made to endure anything the ocean throws at them, much less her weather magic. Plus, who’d choose to practice magic over a swatch of ocean with an endangered species? The hamster sidekick was cute (although in retrospect, probably not the most original plot device) and constant references to Marian’s attractiveness and the growing chemistry between her and the love interest are a hoot as well. Perhaps less critical readers will have a much better time with this book. But for me, I was just flipping through and quickly scanning the book and hoping to finally get to the end of it. My resolution to finish all the books that I start really backfired on me with this book.
BTW, I apologize for any possible grammatical and spelling errors. I tried to catch the ones that I did notice but I can’t guarantee a perfect editing job.
Basically, I think if romance fantasies want to be marketed as straight fantasies, then they need to hold their own in that genre. Similarly, if a fantasy wants to advertise itself as a romance, it needs to be able to pass muster with general romance readers as well. It makes me mad though to see romance readers read a romance fantasy and think that it is a good fantasy when frankly, they are not. The other thing of note though is that romance authors do their own worldbuilding if you think about it. It’s just that the basic components of the world is with the two main characters because the hero and heroine are literally in their own world. We experience the world only through them and they are each other’s world. It’s hard to port that over to a fantasy setting because whenever the character building isn’t done well, there’s not enough exterior world building and it helps to further cheapen the whole book.
Generally, I think it’s hard to try to straddle romance and fantasies because of the different attitudes each genre has. I tend to read each genre with a different mindset though sometimes I’m not conscious of it. So I guess, I kind of have double standards since my standards are different for fantasies than they are for romances. Some books that I think do straddle the border nicely though are:
Undead and Unwed by Mary Janice Davidson
Dead Witch Walking by Kim Harrison
The Empress’ New Clothes by Jaid Black (although this is a mix of sci-fi with romance rather than fantasy)
Dead Until Dark by Charlaine Harris
The Harmony series by Jayne Castle (Jayne Ann Krentz’s scifi pseudonym)
But good books that double as romance and fantasy are few and far in between. Usually, they’re either fully romance or fantasy with only romantic or fantastical elements woven in but they wouldn’t really be considered truly cross-genre books in my eyes.
Doesn’t that depend on the reader, though? One man’s trash and so on.
But then I tend not to pay much attention to genre, never mind trying to decide where a cross-genre story goes (unless, of course, it suits my purposes when recommending books 😉 ).
I wonder if there really more badly written Romance novels or if it seems that way because lately I’ve been reading more Romance books than other genres (except YA). Maybe it’s not that there are more out there, but that I end up reading more of them because I read more Romance (I seem to recall coming across a lot of Mysteries I did not care for, for example, when I went through a Mystery reading phase for a while).
Kainee or anyone else, can you offer a good defition of Fantasy? I understand some of the elements, but I’m least familiar with the expectations associated with Fantasy.
can you offer a good defition of Fantasy?
**head explodes**
Sorry, it’s just that I’ve taken a graduate-level lit course on fantasy, and one of the things we learned in it is that nobody bloody agrees on this.
But that’s from a criticial standpoint. From a marketing standpoint, the inclusion of magic tends to be the defining characteristic of the genre (though the definition of “magic” is then in its own turn fuzzy). Generally this takes place in a setting of a lower technological level than our own, but urban fantasies are in a modern setting, and certain specific works include enough in the way of weird technology that they blur over into science fiction. If the magical elements are mostly things like vampires and werewolves, then it blurs over the boundary into horror. And my understanding is that if you have a romance foundation with magical elements on top, it’s shelved as paranormal romance or what have you; the further it goes toward actually hybridizing those two, the more likely it is to be shelved in either place, or both.
Mind you, there are books out there with plenty of magic in them that aren’t shelved as fantasy (just as there are books with science fictional tropes in them that aren’t shelved as SF), but that has to do with a lot of other factors, including whether the author’s already established as a lit-fic writer.
Now, if you want me to start citing Todorov and Attebery and other, more technical definitions, I’d be happy to—but I figured that wasn’t what you were asking, since most people want a more everyday approach.
Okay, let me try that again, now that I see you’re asking about expectations.
That’s a harder one to address, since it gets into subgenres and the like. The expectations of quest fantasy—the Tolkien-esque stuff many people think of when they hear the word—are pretty well-defined: a humble protagonist (likely of higher birth than they appear) leaves home in the company of a Wise Old Magic Person and acquires various other companions for the purpose of finding and/or destroying some Important Magic Thing and/or stopping the schemes of a Dark Lord, all within the framework of a pretty clear Good/Evil dichotomy. (See Diana Wynne Jones’ Tough Guide to Fantasyland and Dark Lord of Derkholm for a good sendup of this.)
But that’s radically different from what someone would expect from an urban fantasy, where the story is more likely to do with the interaction of human and Other, whether the Other be faeries, vampires, or what have you. Urban fantasies also often promote the power of art, but that may just be Emma Bull’s fault for influencing everybody with War for the Oaks.
The expectation is that (usually) the good guys will win, but there’s a fair bit of leeway for it to be a Pyrrhic victory; somebody major and beloved may die, for instance. Winning often involves killing the bad guy, but not always. And you do get fantasy novels out there that upset this expectation for one reason or another.
Readers also, in general, expect coherent worldbuilding of whatever tech level (no railways if it looks otherwise medieval), a magic system that follows some kind of internal logic, and a plot which operates on a fairly large scale; I’ve read fantasy novels that are very quiet and personal and the effects of the characters’ actions really only matter to the characters themselves, but far more frequently, they have repercussions that will affect a lot of people. (The overthrow of a Dark Lord is an obvious example of this, but a fairly cheesy one that fortunately doesn’t dominate everything.)
That’s probably a better answer than what I wrote a moment ago.
Now, if you want me to start citing Todorov and Attebery and other, more technical definitions, I’d be happy to—but I figured that wasn’t what you were asking, since most people want a more everyday approach.
I’d actually like the technical definitions, Marie. Thanks, this is very interesting! Is a quest intrinsic to the genre, and what’s the role of magic. I thought I read some comment that a Fantasy is supposed to create things impossible in RL—yes?
Hoo. Okay, let me give this a shot.
I don’t like Todorov’s definition at all, but since I brought him up, I might as well explain it. To his way of thinking (which, mind you, was never meant as a descriptor for publishing categories), “the fantastic” as a concept is that hesitation where you don’t know whether something is real or imaginary. If the question gets resolved in either direction, it ceases to be fantastic, and becomes wondrous or ordinary instead.
Darko Suvin (yes, that really is his name) defined science fiction as “the literature of cognitive estrangement” and fantasy (in passing) as having do do with “mythic estrangement,” but I once compared his definition—in an academic paper, no less—to the kid who tries to get into the clique of cool kids by pretending he doesn’t know any of his old friends from elementary school. The stuff he calls SF is that kid; fantasy and 95% of what everybody else calls SF are his old friends; “literature” is the clique. The notion of estrangement isn’t entirely useless, though. Basically, it means that the story causes you to look at familiar things in an alienating way, seeing them as strange. This is definitely one of the effects speculative fiction of any stripe can have.
Attebery’s the one I find useful. He wrote a good piece differentiating between fantasy as mode, genre, and formula. In the “mode” sense, there’s a spectrum between the mimetic (representations that match the world as we know it to be—though you don’t have to think long to notice that we may not all agree on how the world actually works) and the fantastic (representations that don’t match our agreed-upon notions). The most mimetic writing out there is factual reporting; all fiction is at least slightly non-mimetic, since it presents people and events that don’t exist. Fantasy and SF occupy zones further down toward the fantastic end of the spectrum.
Fantasy as “formula,” at the other end, is what I was talking about in a previous comment: a pattern of character and incident that has been repeated a lot (and there’s more than one formula out there). One nice touch is that Attebery recognizes formula is not necessarily a bad thing, no more than the structure of a sonnet is bad.
In between these, he places the “genre” concept of fantasy, which is “the story of the imposition of one particular set of restrictions on the mode of the fantastic.” It’s a historical approach, that looks at how fantastical texts like myths and fairy-tales were reshaped by influential writers (the Grimms, George MacDonald, Tolkien) into a recognizable entity that is the genre of fantasy, which marketing forces continually try to push away from mode and toward formula.
He’s got a lot more to say on the subject, and my summary leaves a lot of important questions unaddressed, but this comment’s already stupidly long and I think that gives a decent sense of his theory. I like Attebery the best of the lot, because I think it’s very useful to distinguish between the different scales on which one might talk about fantasy, of which “publishing category” is only one.
Thanks, Marie, that was very helpful. I actually used Todorov’s Conquest of America in my dissertation, but haven’t read any of his straight fantasy theory (much to Sherryfair’s probable horror, though, I’m starting to mastermind a theory of my own in which every genre traces back to the captivity narrative, heh, heh, heh). It’s helpful to me, though, to understand how Todorov’s interpretation of Columbus et al connects to fantasy and eventually to the genre of Fantasy fiction.
What I’m not convinced about, though, is the extent to which Romance as a generic publishing category is any more limited than SF or Fantasy; however, I think the fact that Romance prescribes a categorically optimistic ending makes it seem more limited on the surface. I’ve just started reading Sarah Monette’s Melusine, based on Keishon’s review, and I’m going to try to pay attention to it *as* genre fiction to see if I understand all this any more concretely. Thanks again.
I think romance seems more limited to me because it prescribes several things that other genres may not: the conflict (obstacles in the way of the romantic relationship of the characters), the key players (my understanding is that romance readers EXPECT to know who the heroine will end up with, not to be surprised by it), and the resolution (HEA). Murder mysteries—another genre often seen as limited—have #1 and #3, but try to surprise you with #2.
But limitation in no way means that the result will automatically be bad, whatever highbrow types might try to tell you. Romance should advertise itself as the villanelle or sestina of fiction: maybe a large percentage of them are mediocre to bad, but people who know how to work within the constraints of the form can turn out stunning results.
Robin—“In fantasy, dragons can hover. In science fiction, they can’t.”
From a button purchased at a SF convention.
Hope this helps.[g]
Hey Darlene, that’s great shorthand! Thanks.
I think romance seems more limited to me because it prescribes several things that other genres may not: the conflict (obstacles in the way of the romantic relationship of the characters), the key players (my understanding is that romance readers EXPECT to know who the heroine will end up with, not to be surprised by it), and the resolution (HEA).
Well, the industry definition (via the RWA) requires two basic elements: central focus on the relationship and an “optimistic” and “emotionally satisfying” ending. As for the rest, obviously some readers have really STRONG preferences for a HEA or for certain types of conflicts or even certain types of characters and relationship patterns. Some readers only want virgin heroines, some won’t read books with, for example, virgin widows. Readers consistently debate certain aspects of the genre, but what some readers prefer should not, IMO, become so entrenched as to have the force of rules. And as I said before, I don’t really think that sales numbers reflects reader satisfaction so much as it does reader loyalty to the genre. I buy lots of books I end of not liking, but if I want to read Romance, I have to buy even more to find those gems.
Really interesting topic. I think a large part of this is expectations based on certain genres. Romance you expect the HEA, in fantasy and scifi you go in without any expectation, and if the main love interest dies, it sucks but you don’t feel betrayed.
This reminds me of the recent anger from fans about the Candace Steele novels, which were setup as romance, but did not ultimately deliver on their HEA.
I recently read The Rest Falls Away based upon the recommendation here. I enjoyed it, but I did get a more fantasy vibe than romance. One character had DEAD MEAT practically tattooed on his head, so I strongly suspected he was not long for this world. As far as the other two, I can see one as being the real romantic hero and the other as the bad boy there for a fling and some variety, but he’s out of the running. Although I don’t know for certain and I do like that.
Personally, I find that my expectations are different depending on what I read. If I want a guaranteed happy ending, then I get a romance. If I want a book where I can’t figure out the plot within the first twenty pages, I’ll go for a fantasy. (I can’t actually read scifi, because I’m a scientist and they ALWAYS screw something major up and then I’m forced to fling the book against the wall.)
It’s fascinating to me that there is an industry definition of romance as a genre, endorsed by your professional organization. I just trawled through the SFWA website, and didn’t find anything of the sort, though maybe it’s there somewhere and I didn’t find it/nobody ever talks about it. Even the criteria they use to determine qualifying short fiction sales for membership don’t seem to say anything particular about how they’ll determine whether your story belongs in the genre or not—they all have to do with pay rate and circulation.
Security word: gives69. I guess the romance genre really is heating up. ^_^
Marie, that security word is hysterical. Evidence of romance’s hostile take-over, perhaps? Seems like every week it encrouches a little further into the scifi/fantasy shelves at my local bookstore.
And I found your summary of mode, genre, formula fascinating. Just wanted to thank you for that.
As others have said in romance I expect a HEA, in fantasy all bets are off. One of my favorite books, that I think does a good job of being a cross romance/fantasy is Patricia Wrede’s and Carol Stevermer’s Sorcery and Cecelia or The Enchanted Chocolate Pot. The relationships between the main characters are central, and there is very good world building. Sorry about the gush but I love this book.
“If I’m reading Mystery, and at the end the protagonist says: Gee, I don’t know WHO dun it, so I guess I’ll just go have a beer. Going to be pissed.”
You know, I’d have agreed 100%, but in one of my favourite books from last year, that happened. (Sadly, I can’t plug the book – because that’s a complete spoiler if ever there was one.)
It’s the only detective story I’ve ever read where there was no resolution – the detective felt horrible, the family of the victim were completely devestated – nothing good, and yet the author made it work, to such an extent that when I read the ‘bonus feature’ first chapter of the next book, and found it took the story further I was disappointed – because I’d thought the ending was just about perfect as it was.
The clever thing about it was that my own expectations of the genre made the ending more powerful – because I knew the crime would be solved, the fact that it wasn’t seemed really shocking.
I don’t think romance produces a disproportionately large number of bad books; Sturgeon’s Law holds true for this as with anything else. But because so many romances are published every year—many, many more than, say, SF—the marketplace is swamped with many, many more bad romances than bad anything else.
I will say that romance novels are the worst-edited books of any in my experience. Some of the continuity and grammatical errors the publishers allow to slip into the final product are jaw-dropping.
In terms of guilty pleasures, I think fantasy comes a close second to romance. I have a huge soft spot for cheesy sword-n-sorcery epics, one comparable to my love of pirate romances and romances with cross-dressing protagonists. *weeps*
Most of the SF I’ve read, I’ve loved, and loved without shame, but that’s because I pick up SF based on award winners and the recommendations of friends, and the winners of the Hugos and Nebulas (at least those of the 80s and 90s) have proven to be rather accurate gauges of what I enjoy. I can’t say the same thing about the RITAs, which are completely hit-and-miss with me.
Romance you expect the HEA, in fantasy and scifi you go in without any expectation, and if the main love interest dies, it sucks but you don’t feel betrayed.
And yet, and yet, I can think of some sci fi/fantasy novels that have delivered exponentially more romantic bang for the buck with their not so happy endings.
Guy Gavriel Kay’s TIGANA and Stephen Donaldson’s GAP SERIES leap to mind.
It’s fascinating to me that there is an industry definition of romance as a genre, endorsed by your professional organization.
IIRC it was relatively recently and a move against some pressure to narrow the genre to man/woman type stories, etc.
But in another sense, maybe if we have Tzvetan Todorov writing books about Romance things would be different. 😉
I will say that romance novels are the worst-edited books of any in my experience. Some of the continuity and grammatical errors the publishers allow to slip into the final product are jaw-dropping.
This is the one area where I think a total lack of respect on the part of publishers for Romance readers advertises itself. There is one particular series that is so poorly copyedited I actually started listening to the books on audio so I wouldn’t get as caught up in the gaffes. And the funny part? There are STILL consistency errors! Goddamn it pisses me off!
Maybe expectations when it comes to genre are based on ending. It seems almost like a bottom line for a lot of people. I find that really interesting. Partly because I have an uncanny knack for knowing the ending or surprise in any book or movie. Almost nothing gets by me and knowing the outcome doesn’t have to change my perspective throughout the story. Just something I noticed and had never really considered before.
Having mentioned that, I read anything that crosses my path and am new (relatively) to both romance and fantasy. In terms of genre I’m newer to fantasy.
Romance has become one of the only genres I actively seek out in a library or bookstore. They’re comfortable yet stimulating. It’s a staple in my reading diet and though I know good when I read it I’m not very discriminating when it comes to selection. I read 3 or 4 romances for every other genre I pick up so I allow myself to read the less than favorable. My expectations for romance aren’t lower than for other genres but my tolerance level is much higher. I read partly for the HEA but it isn’t a requirement if other aspects of the genre are met. I’m forgiving when it comes to romance because, to me, they aren’t as involving. There’s a depth of feeling, an immersion in story but I don’t often feel like I’m invested to the point that I would feel jipped or disappointed. As long as the story was good. I’m more likely to weigh the good and bad in a romance and come up even somewhere.
A fantasy is the opposite. A fantasy requires a leap of the mind and faith that a romance doesn’t. A fantasy requires involvment, often long term involvment. I have to get into the worldbuilding as much as everything else. I might be learning new laws of physics along with the names of the characters. I have to believe the world, not just the story. I get invested in a fantasy, I expect investment. I’m much less tolerant in a fantasy. Flat characters are not allowed, hell, bad grammar is not allowed. I get upset when I see the word warmthness in a fantasy. If I’m expected to get involved, to believe, then it better be worth it. Especially if it’s a good story. Good worldbuilding coupled with bad writing pisses me off. Because it’s likely to be another 14 books before I can put the damn thing down, or in a fire. I finish everything I read too. It’s a compulsion, except for that one time but I still remember the book and will one day work up the courage to finish it (it wasn’t a fantasy).
For me the definition of fantasy is a world, place, time or circumstance that I couldn’t get to in reality. Romance is the dynamic specifically between two people (or three or four, because that happens) and how it starts, evolves and resolves. Imagination versus emotion. Though both and more are required for a good story.
This is a fascinating discussion. I can remember long, long conversations in the late 60’s and 70’s about defining sf and how to tell it from fantasy. The event that I remember prompting this quest was the appearance of the label of New Wave SF. New Wave SF was very experimental which for some reason was considered the antithesis of the genre that dared to think about the future. Of course I also remember Robert Silverberg declaring that there was no way on god’s green earth that James Triptree, Jr. Could be the pseudonym of a woman—Now there was a wonderful moment.
But the discussion about the definition of romance, at least what I read about it, seemed to be a push by a part of the group with a socially conservative agenda to impose their will on the group. I don’t know what, if any, areas it opened up to discussion and examination.
I wonder what force, if any, could take the place of the SF New Wave to prompt a reexamination of the writing (and editing) standards current in Romance? There is an author (no longer writing romance, alas) whose books I really enjoyed but in one of her last books for Zebra there was a glaring error about what had happened a few chapters earlier that I have to grit my teeth over every time I reread it.
Mervyn Peake’s Gormenghast books are not a guilty pleasure but a pure pleasure and E. R. Eddison’s Zimviambia novels are two of my favorite fantasy series. Both authors have idiosyncratic styles.
I also note that the more engrossed I become in a romance novel, the more willing I am to forgive historical inaccuracies; however, failure of logic and inconsistent characterization get me raving every time.
I have to say that I’m willing to suspend disbelief more for a romance novel then for a fantasy or even a paranormal romance, if that makes any sense. In a fantasy or paranormal romance I expect the world building to be thorough and it has to make sense. I expect less of that from a romance novel. Even if it’s set during a time period I know nothing about, I am willing to go with the author, unless something is obviously wrong.
I can also say that I am expecting something to be a series. I am a primarily fantasy reader, and stand alone fantasy books are few and far between, probably because you do have to put so much time and effort into creating a world. I want a series. When there is only one story to a paranormal romance, I feel almost cheated.
In fantasy I am willing to let the characters develop slowly, because I know I’m getting a series. I expect the characters to be more complex then in a romance. Even in a romance that’s well written with a good plot and complex characters, they tend to be a bit formulaic.
Also, in a romance I want the HEA. If it’s not there, I’m not happy. In fantasy I don’t care so much, because they can always get that later.