On alpha heroes

Sarah e-mailed me this question yesterday as part of a discussion about alpha heroes:

What’s too alpha for you? And what hero crossed the line?

Alpha heroes are tricky beasts, and the term has come to be associated with a whole fuckton of baggage—it has, in fact, become shorthand in a lot of ways, though exactly WHAT that shorthand stands for greatly depends on where you draw your lines when it comes to acceptable hero behavior, and how you distinguish assertiveness from arrogance, and firmness from brutality. The vast majority of asshole heroes in Romancelandia do tend to be alpha heroes, though not all alpha heroes are by any means assholes; it’s just that some authors and many readers seem to conflate “shouty, angry and impatient” with alpha behavior.

I enjoy the antagonism and sparring between alpha types as much as anybody else. One of my all-time favorites is Loretta Chase’s Lord of Scoundrels, for example; Dain and Jessica are both Type A personalities, and it is a true joy to watch them duke it out. The two of them are well-suited to each other; they’re equally strong, and best of all, they’re equally fun to watch.

But frankly, part of the enjoyment is seeing Jessica get the best of Dain despite his machinations. I’m not sure what it says about me, but it makes me deeply uncomfortable when a heroine loses or is the one in the wrong too frequently; a large part of it is related to the way people have dismissed women’s opinions and decisions as being inconsequential and/or wrong for such a very long time, though I can tolerate it as long as it’s treated with sensitivity. Laura Kinsale, for example, is the mistress of creating heroines who, for one damn reason or another, get things wrong and otherwise fuck their shit up, but who don’t trigger my ick response.

But a strong power imbalance can be an emotionally and aesthetically satisfying storytelling tool as well. My favorite example: Devon and Merry from The Windflower by Laura London. Devon puts Merry through hell, and while she grows stronger (literally and metaphorically) throughout the story, Devon is quite clearly in the position of power through much of the book. But again, of key importance is that Merry isn’t in the wrong, and that she doesn’t ever cave on that point. She maintains her innocence, despite all the adversity she’s put through, and when Devon finally realizes what he’s done to her, I feel strangely vindicated in my faith in Merry and even more strangely proud that she managed to hold on to her principles so strongly. Part of what bothered me immensely about Whitney, My Love, for example, is that Whitney breaks down and apologizes to Clayton when I didn’t think she had any particular cause to. Well, that, and the rape.

But back to alpha heroes, and what’s “too alpha.” One of my clearest lines of demarcation—and it’s really not a question of being alpha so much as exhibiting sociopathic tendencies—involves seducing the heroine out of revenge. Once a hero decides to get the heroine in bed (sometimes via blackmail, other times via good old-fashioned deception) to, say, punish her father because her father inadvertently caused the death of the hero’s second cousin’s pet gerbil, except no, we find out he’s actually in love with her despite himself and has been since page 23 when he kisses her punishingly for the first time and accuses her of being a slut—once the hero crosses that line, he’s just not redeemable. Sleeping with somebody out of revenge is, well, so very fucked up on so many levels, I can’t find him redeemable. Not that fucked-up scenarios can’t be hot, and if you get off on that kind of power play, more power to you. It just doesn’t float my boat, is what I’m trying to say here.

Another fairly firm line is rape, though given how much I’ve enjoyed books in which forced seduction—hell, even psychological and sexual torment—play a significant role in the hero and heroine’s early relationship, such as in Only With Your Love by Lisa Kleypas and To Have and to Hold by Patricia Gaffney, I can’t say that heroes who play fast and loose with consent immediately make it into my shit list. A large part of the believability of the hero’s redemption lies with a) how sorry he is for being a rat fucking bastard, b) whether he fully grasps that what he did was pretty damn awful, c) the severity of what he did and d) how frequently he repeats the offence.

A somewhat fuzzier line is the alpha hero who doesn’t trust the heroine for whatever reason and as a consequence is constantly on the heroine’s case because he thinks she’s a filthy liar (and sometimes, an even filthier whore—that is, until he tries to fuck her and his cock encounters her Magical Hymen of Steel That For Some Goddamn Reason is Mysteriously Located Three Inches Up Her Hoo Hoo). When handled wrongly, it can result in a numbing cycle of fighting and distrust; when handled correctly, it can be an excellent source of conflict and romantic tension.

So I want to hear your thoughts. The alpha hero is a topic that’s been hashed out and bashed around a million different times in a million different on-line romance communities, but I want to hear your thoughts about them—especially with regards to power imbalances. Do they bother you? What are your lines, in terms of alpha behavior crossing into asshole territory? What about the heroine being constantly wrong—does that get on your tits, too?

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Random Musings

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  1. Miranda says:

    Regarding the ‘Outlander beating scene’, I have a very low tolerance for anything abusive to women, but that scene didn’t bother me, because it wasn’t about Claire being a woman but about disobedience to the lord of the clan.

    It was made pretty clear by other parts of the book that a man who took the same actions, particularly endangering others, and endangered others, would have been thrashed with a whip. Claire took the woman’s version of the punishment that anyone would have received in the circumstances.

    The following sex scene I can’t justify, but the beating itself, I managed to deal with.

  2. Alphabet heroes bore me. Whether they’re alpha, beta or gamma makes no difference as long as I can believe in them as people. The cardboard alpha is a boring as the mannequin in the shop window.

  3. Kristie(J) says:

    When I think of Alpha Jerk heros, the one that comes to mind the most for me is Brandon from Kathleen Woodiwiss’s The Flame and the Flower.  He is one of the worst I’ve read and I frankly astounded at how many people gave this book such glowing reviews

  4. Wry Hag says:

    Maximized alpha dudes make up one of the reasons I can’t read BDSM.  I mean, I understand the basic schtick, but any human male who insists on being called “Master” deserves a big ol’ smack upside the head and lots of time-out in a corner.  With James Joyce’s stinky fingers.

  5. Melissa says:

    I can’t handle rape.  Period.  Or the hero threatening to rape the heroine to terrorize her into obediance.  This is why I quit reading Iris Johansen’s historicals.

    I also don’t like a man that controls a woman’s behavior and is surprised when it pisses her off.  Case in point: Linda Howard’s Raintree book.  It embodies all I hate about too-alpha heroes, and got chucked into the wall.  I like some of her earlier works very much (Mackenzie’s Mountain, Duncan’s Choice, Midnight Rainbow, etc.) but this book should be shredded for compost.

  6. Chrissy says:

    Romance may have different rules for how a dominant male can act—I’d argue it shouldn’t, but whatever—but I think a lot of writers and readers alike miss the true measure.

    An alpha male does not need violence or abuse to be an alpha male. 

    We are taking the term from animal heirarchy.  Alpha wolves rule the pack because they are the strongest.  They don’t kill and maim the females because that’s not what leadership is. 

    Alpha males in the human tribe are no different.  A true alpha isn’t afraid of losing his power.  He holds it because he IS the STRONGEST and knows it.  Hence his arrogance, his self assurance.

    Men who hit women or force sex upon them are coming from a position of physical power only.  Rapists are not alpha males.  They are cowards.

    You can’t write it out of them.  But then, a lot of women are screwed up from decades of mixed messages.  Too many think only bad girls like it and good girls need to be forced.  We—the smart bitches of the world—know better.  But that’s some tough training to shake, ennit?

    I respect writers who know the difference.  I also think a lot of us maybe took a bit longer to learn/grow/experience our way to truth because of crap we were exposed to over the years—and yeah, romance novels included.

    Cripes, I think Rosemary Rogers estate should have to pay for therapy for her legions of readers who eventually woke up and wanted to find and strangle her.

    But that’s just me.  🙂

  7. Chrissy says:

    Sorry for the double, but just an aside…

    Why is it that we want our historical h/hs to be above the social norm with regard to:

    a) washing habits
    b) tolerance of class distinction
    c) modern thinking about earning money

    Yet we give them a pass with regard to rape?  Sorry… it’s fiction.  And there were MANY early thinkers who spoke out against that kind of behavior.  Not just Wallstonecraft, not just Hildegard of Bingham. 

    It’s fiction for women who live NOW.  If we’ll let them bathe more often than anyone in the century-of-setting generally did in a lifetime, we can skip the rape “because it was cool then.”

  8. monimala says:

    Count me in as a reader for whom rape is a dealbreaker.  I even have a hard time with general sexual manipulation.  You have to give me a very, very compelling story to accept it when a male protagonist pulls that crap on the heroine.  Ain’t She Sweet, by Susan Elizabeth Phillips is a good example of an alpha hero riding that line.  Colin is an absolute ASS to Sugar Beth, though it can be argued that she deserves at least a little of what he dishes out.  Most of the book is them struggling to reconcile who they used to be and that power dynamic with who they are now. But the first time I read it, Colin’s cruelty actually made tears spring to my eyes.

    I’m much more into the heroes from Suzanne Brockmann’s books, from Jennifer Crusie’s books, who are Manly Men Doing Manly Things… but also pretty much totally at the mercy of the strong women in their lives.  Deck from Brockmann’s Flashpoint, for example, has spent three books angsting about a blowjob Sophia gave him under duress.  Sure, at some point, he’s going to have to suck it up (hee!) and get over it because she loves his emo ass, but he’s been punishing himself for a good, long time.  Imagine if there had been penetration, he’d probably have shot himself.

    Then there’s Cal from Crusie’s Bet Me. Min and her friends assume he’s “the Beast,” but end up learning that he’s no Alpha asshat, he’s actually more of a Beta hero.

    Heck, I’m just glad I stopped reading Catherine Coulter’s historicals, because if I had to read one more virgin bride leaping out of her bed and running screaming down the hall after her hubby has breached her Heretofore Untouched Hoo-Hoo, I was going to impale myself on a rusty garden weasel.  Has anyone ever thought of telling those Sherbrooke boys that they’re Doing It Wrong?

  9. Francois says:

    “Has anyone ever thought of telling those Sherbrooke boys that they’re Doing It Wrong?” (monimala)

    I can just see the new series now: “Family of Asshats”…

    Read on for the story of the cold elder brother, the Duke of Asshat, the feckless young brother Lord Asshat, that other one that joined the army Colonel Asshat. And don’t forget their younger sister Lady Feisty-Virgin Asshat.

  10. Meg says:

    First time posting, although I’ve had an RSS feed of this blog for a while now.  I like you folks [g].

    But I’m surprised that no one has mentioned Mary Jo Putney’s The Burning Point.  Admittedly, I’ve deliberately headed away from most of the books you all have mentioned, simply because I dislike over-the-top alpha “heroes” as much as I do, but TBP caught me off-guard, and made me realize what my personal auto-fling was. 

    In TBP the—contemporary, mind you—hero and heroine are divorced—because he was physically abusive.  And they end up with an “HEA” at the end. 

    I can’t begin to describe how many kinds of wrong that is.  I don’t care how “repentant” he was.  I don’t read MJP anymore because of it, either.  I can’t help thinking of some woman who just managed to convince herself to escape from her abusive husband accidentally running across this book.  What a slap in the face.  With no warning whatsoever.

    [/rant]

    Sorry.  Didn’t mean to do that my first post here…

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