Lately there’s been a number of articles online that I’ve read that discuss a hero type that isn’t defined, and isn’t often present in romance novels, though it’s one of my favorites. Maybe it’s because it’s not as dramatic a persona, or maybe because it’s a heroism that’s sometimes quiet, often subtle, and perhaps difficult to render in text, but the hero who defies the archetype. He’s not outsized and XXXL (as Jane wrote recently), superpowered and megaendowed financially or physically. This hero… shows up when it counts. I’m still working on a name for this one: it’s not quite beta, and it’s not rogue, and it’s not alpha, either.
There are a number of different ways to define him, both what he is, and what he’s not. In this recent article that went around Twitter, the hero is the one who holds your purse:
It’s one of the biggest take-home lessons from my years as an oncologist: When you’re a single woman picturing the guy of your dreams, what matters a heck of lot more than how he handles a kayak is how he handles things when you’re sick. And one shining example of this is how a guy deals with your purse.
I became acquainted with what I’ve come to call great “purse partners” at a cancer clinic in Waltham. Every day these husbands drove their wives in for their radiation treatments, and every day these couples sat side by side in the waiting room, without much fuss and without much chitchat. Each wife, when her name was called, would stand, take a breath, and hand her purse over to her husband. Then she’d disappear into the recesses of the radiation room, leaving behind a stony-faced man holding what was typically a white vinyl pocketbook. On his lap. The guy—usually retired from the trades, a grandfather a dozen times over, a Sox fan since date of conception—sat there silently with that purse. He didn’t read, he didn’t talk, he just sat there with the knowledge that 20 feet away technologists were preparing to program an unimaginably complicated X-ray machine and aim it at the mother of his kids.
I’d walk by and catch him staring into space, holding hard onto the pocketbook, his big gnarled knuckles clamped around the clasp, and think, “What a prince.”
When Jane and I wrote about this type of hero in romance at the Borders True Romance Blog, we received a number of truly amazing stories from women who are fortunate to have this type of hero in their lives. Some told of men who treated them as women, not as patients, even while they undergo continual care for difficult and onerous physical conditions. Others talked about men who listened, who were equal partners in marriage and responsibility.
Contrast these men of quiet valor to the “bro culture” discussed at Jezebel in the wake of a new iPhone app from Pepsi that purports to assist men in picking up women by type:
Artist
Aspiring Actress
Athlete
Bookworm
Businesswoman
Celebrity
Cougar
Dancer
Foreign Exchange Student
Goth Girl
Indie Rock Girl
Married
Military Girl
Nerd
Out-Of-Your-League Girl
Political Girl…
I’ll stop there, I’m getting nauseated. And of course the app comes with a “brag list” so if you “get lucky” you can remember her name and any pertinent details- and given the tone and lame humor of the app and its description, I’m willing to bet that “Had two tits, a hole, and a heartbeat” is an option.
Hortense has it right when she writes in conclusion to her rant about this spectacular piece of programming poo:
There’s a reason why I go after bro culture as often as I do: things like this, which are completely unacceptable and ridiculously offensive. This is a program sponsored by a major corporation that encourages men to look at women as objects to be won, used, and tossed away after a “victory” is obtained….
I have said it before, and I will say it again: I am just really tired of bros, man. It would be nice to turn on the television one day and not see some dude completely dehumanizing women as a part of some asinine “game” in order to promote deodorant or soda pop or body wash, but I guess there isn’t an app for that yet.
Whether it’s a joke that edged too far into reality (I’ve so met guys who think like that – have you?) or a genuine piece of utter asshattery, the blowhard clueless hero type is much more common in mass media portrayals of men than the real men we know who are actually heroic.
I wish I read more of these heroes in romance.
I’d pick men like LaConnie Taylor Jones’ late husband, who changed her life and left a wonderful legacy of being a true romance hero:
As a romance author, readers often tell me the only place a woman can meet a beautiful, strong Black man is between the cover of a romance novel….
He didn’t drive a luxury vehicle or go head off to work all suited and booted in the latest Dolce and Gabbana collection. He was the father of our four children and the one who occasionally headed out the door sick, but somehow managed to work all day to earn an honest day’s pay in order to support his family. He was the man my children were and still are proud to call “Dad.” He was the one who spoiled me rotten, in spite of my shortcomings. He was the man who honored and respected me with his whole heart and demanded the same from others on my behalf. He was the man who cried with me and for me. He was the man who celebrated my joys and shared my pain. He was the man I entrusted with my darkest secrets and deepest fears, which he safely tucked them away inside his heart and carried to his grave.
Or Elise Logan’s brother, who, as she told me on Twitter, went to high school his sophomore year on National Coming Out Day in a dress in “solidarity.” Or her dad, who, when the principal called to report her brother’s apparel, said “Is it a violation of dress code?” Ms. Logan’s brother and Ms. Jones’ husband are no longer with us – and we’re missing some genuine heroes in these two dudes.
Jessica Scott’s blog entry for today came to me via Laura Kinsale’s Twitter feed as I was writing this entry: Something Neat from a Year in Iraq: “I got my husband back.”
We have a few minutes at lunch and dinner and maybe an hour or two before we go to bed. It’s more than most couples have and less than others, but it works for us. I’ve learned a lot about him this year, both as a husband and as a soldier. I think he’s learned a lot about me and how we’ve both changed over the last half decade. But the best thing is discovering that there’s still a whole lot of love, mixing in with a lot of like and it’s not just the kids holding us together….
It’s been a long known fact in the Army, since the war started, that deployments can make good marriages stronger but it destroys weak ones. This is my husband’s third and my first. I look to him as the voice of experience and he’s talked me through some of my fears. I’m glad I’ve gotten this time with my husband the man, not the daddy and I still love it when he plays with the kids on the webcam.
So getting to be husband’s wife this year, even with everything else that’s gone one, is at least one good thing that’s come out of being in Iraq.
Media, and to a lesser extent, romance, has a very limited set of roles for heroes, particularly those who are husbands or fathers – secret baby notwithstanding. In pop culture portrayals, they can be uber-studs or bumbling dads or quiet geeks or angry rebels – and every now and again you meet a deft mix of one or more, with a touch of something new and realistic.
In romance, the hero isn’t just the Wang of Mighty Lovin but all too often, he is reduced to that stereotype 3/4ths of the way through the book.
It’s not always compelling romance to read of a hero who listens and shows up and steps in and stands up and does all those nameless, subtle things that compile this type of hero. But surely there’s more room for this type of man in romance (and watch – the comments will be full of “Sarah, duh, did you not read…?” Get your bookstore shopping lists ready – there’s no group better at proving me wrong than the Bitchery).
Meanwhile, I’m still trying to think of a name for this real-life hero. Maybe it’s the 99% hero: 99% of life is just showing up, as a fridge magnet tells it, and I bet 99% of women would pick this type of hero over all the others in real life, if not in romantic fantasy. Regardless of what you call him, the “99% hero” is 100% awesome. I love encountering him in different places, even if it’s with the painful knowledge that the gentleman I’m reading about isn’t alive today.
Who’s your favorite 99% hero? Do you disagree that this guy who holds your purse, listens, and does those million little subtle things is absent in romance?
ETA: Polly, in the comments below, nailed it: “Maybe omega? Since he’s the guy you’ll wish you ended up with?” Yes. This is the Omega Hero: the one you end up with, or wish you had. Well said, Polly!
I think “steadfast” is the hero type you mean.
I love Elise Logan’s brother and dad. And that quote about purse-holders was beautiful.
Anyway, I agree with what is being said about what kind of man I would want (reliable, honest, loyal, etc), but at the same time, the voice inside of me is going, “Shouldn’t humans be doing this?”
It is commendable that a man sits there, holding the purse and all that it means, but at the same time, how could he not? If someone isn’t willing to be there with you for the bad stuff, why would you want to share the good stuff? I think it takes real courage to hold someone’s hand as they go through the extremely painful process of ridding themselves of cancer. I have seen it be done, and it is no way an easy thing to do. It takes courage and grace, whether that involves actually holding the purse, or picking up the kids because chemo wipes them out, or doing the dishes because the smell makes them nauseous…all of it takes courage, because you never know if the person you love will die, and that is an extremely harsh thing to live with as you do things you didn’t previously do.
But how could a man who doesn’t do this be the Hero? Isn’t this just a basic tenet of being a good person – helping someone you love when they are hurt or can’t do it themselves? Whether he fights vampires or ledgers, he isn’t much of a Hero if he also doesn’t fight when the person he loves gets sick. (And I don’t mean he’s the one to find the cure, battle those evil cells; its an emotional and mental battlefield you are helping them fight.)
I guess I’m just confused where human decency stops and this 99& Hero picks up.
I see my husband in that description of a purse-holder . . . although he’s not quite that old yet. We met in high school and decided we wanted to get married our Junior year. Finally college came and after a lengthy engagement (2+ years) we began to plan our wedding. And then I got very, very sick.
My first semester of college I made the Dean’s List; my second semester of college, I dropped out because my health was so bad, at the advice of my doctor. I was diagnosed with dysthymia (long-term depression) with a comorbid major depressive episode, but that wasn’t the primary problem. The primary problem was that I had essentially had mono for more than a few months. After it doesn’t go away for a certain amount of time, you get shoved into the diagnosis of “mono-like illness” or in my case, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.
What really blows my mind about my husband is that instead of quietly dropping me off at my father’s house and continuing his education like most 17-year-olds would have done, he married me, dropped out of college, got a job, and has been supporting me ever since.
My personal goal in life, aside from taking care of our daughter (who is going to be born in just a few days, actually), is to finish getting my Ph.D. or Psy.D., become a forensic psychologist, and allow him to quit working for the rest of his life.
My husband is a badass.
Janet—no, I am thinking of Miles in Black Sheep. Swarthy, from his years in a hot climate, and casually dressed, yes, but that seems attractive to me. It did to Abby, too. 🙂
Damerel (Jasper), in Venetia, is the standard Heyer ‘handsome and arrogant rake’ type, with the obligatory Hard Grey Eyes.
😉
I thought of Cam. I loved Ethan and Philip, but Cam was my favorite. You could tell he would do anything for Anna.
Another omega hero that I think of is Paul Candellano from Knowing You by Maureen Child. He was smart, hot, and totally in love with Stevie. There was nothing that he wouldn’t do for her.
I love this post, especially reading about the real life heros and as I know you absolutely have to cram another recommendation into your list I just finished Hester Browne’s ‘The Little Lady Agency and the Prince’, the third part of a chick-lit trilogy that not only features just this kind of hero who gives foot rubs and cooks and listens and sails, but also the most rocking self-sufficient, capable, sexy heroine I’ve ever encountered.
My hub is big and hairy and collects guns and works on cars and can’t remember not to say “fuck” in front of the Diva and is almost gleeful in his refusal to keep up with current events. His preferred mode of dress is jeans and polo shirt with steel toed Wolverine work boots and since he quit smoking a year ago he’s gained 30 pounds.
Two days before my due date with Diva I had congestive heart failure and if my mom had not been driving me to a dr. appt I would’ve died. When the ambulance got me to the hospital I was blue from lack of oxygen. Emergency c section followed by emergency hysterectomy two days later and I tried to die on the operating table and I was on a ventilator for two weeks and…it sucked. turned out to be prenatal cardiomyopathy.
The hub slept in a supply closet – the ICU nurses made him up a bed and changed the sheets. He helped them keep my lines clean, changed my bandages, would’ve stayed in the room while I used the bed pan if I’d let him. The nurses all said he would’ve made a great nurse.
He took Diva home from the hospital by himself after 3 days – I was in the hospital for 3 weeks. He’d never changed a diaper before he took her home. He took care of the belly button stump when it fell off. He fed her formula, and he stayed up all night. And when I eventually came home from the hospital, he showed me how she liked her diaper changed – he used shop towels, from the car repair shop he managed – and he showed me how she liked to be rocked while he fed her. I was weak as a kitten for a couple months and couldn’t stay awake past 9 pm, so he did all the nighttime feedings.
Diva and I fully recovered. She’s a total daddy’s girl. When I’m gone, he doesn’t need instructions on what to do – he can handle it by himself.
Granted, if I die tomorrow, and if my mom and sister don’t step in, he and Diva will, inside of two weeks, turn into the crazy pilot and kid from Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome, but Diva would be totally happy with that.
I have no point to this, except to say thank you for making me remember how lucky I am to have the Hub, and reminding me to STFU next time I get all pissy because our life doesn’t resemble a romance novel 24/7.
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/men/article6875081.ece
The timing of this article was interesting, as I read this entry and the comments yesterday, and had to fight tears at times. It also made me realise my boyfriend is a good-for-the-goodtimes kind of a guy. We’ve been together for eight years, but when I came home four years ago and told him about my father’s aggressive strain of cancer, he went off and got drunk with his friends. The cancer’s now metastised to my dad’s lungs and he’s terminal, and people at my company are being made redundant… and my boyfriend? Absent in body and mind.
This whole situation has made me wonder about the future with this man, as I know there will be more bad times down the line, and reading about these women’s steadfast heroes has made me wonder whether I shouldn’t “hold out for a hero” too? Thanks Bonnie Tyler 😉
I’m so suprised nobody has mentioned the tags Jenny Crusie uses in Lie To Me – Donut and Muffin. Donuts are great to look at, all sugary with sprinkles, but Muffins hold your purse, are there for you through it all, are good for you.
While this doesn’t exactly cover Sarah’s original position, it’s close. And while Davey Dempsey may have looked like a Donut, he was definitely Tilda’s Muffin, and that’s what it all comes down to, right? The person to be with you through it all.
My word: put 94 – I’d put 94 donuts up against MY muffin any day!
The more I think about the term Omega, the more I think we might want to think of something else.
Omega is The End, at least in a Christian-bible-kind-of-thing.
And that movie Omega Man? Total downer.
If we want to use Greek, I think, from my small knowledge of brain-wave activity, Gamma *might* be better
I’m a little late posting this but Cam from Red’s Hot Honky-Tonk Bar is a definite Omega hero. Younger dude who steps up and helps Red take care of her granddaughter and even becomes a grandpa when they get married. That’s a hero.
Aaargh – I meant to come back and post here but forgot about it, and everyone’s moved on. Never mind. Reading the comments was lovely. I agree about Touch Not the Cat.
My favourite hero is Jonah Griggs, from the Australian YA novel On the Jellicoe Road. He starts out looking very alpha – big and intimidating – and there’s the requisite antagonism between him and the heroine, but her perception of him gradually changes. He turns into the patient, stalwart, endlessly supportive 99% hero. I love how beautifully that change is written. The book is in the first person, so your perception alters with the heroine’s.
These comments have reminded me I must read some Nora Roberts. I’ve tried a couple from the late 80s, but the way the perspectives flipped every few paragraphs bothered me. Next time I’ll try something more recent.
I’ve read some really flipping great posts and comment threads on SmartBitches before, but this one takes the cake. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve cried. Thanks to everyone for sharing their stories.
I’ve got to agree that the Omega tag is the wrong one for this hero. The first thing that came into my mind was the bible quote “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end.” This hero is not an end, for his heroine he is the beginning and his name should reflect that. I think I agree that the Steadfast Hero is the name that rings the right tone for me.
And, yes, I married a purse-holder as well. He’s a big imposing fellow, with a heart of gold. He can fix literally anything that’s broken, cook the best tortellini alfredo I’ve ever tasted, and he’s proven over and over that he will take care of me no matter what. He’s held my purse during my several health scares, the last of one of which was a breast cancer scare when I was so frightened I could barely think straight. As someone above said, it is actions that speak louder than words for most of these men and and believe me I’m listening.
I had spinal fusion surgery this summer, and my husband slept on the couch in my hospital room four nights in a row. He made the hour drive home to let our dog out and then drove back to see me every day. He isn’t tall. He isn’t a marine. He isn’t a billionaire. He is wonderful, kind, and sensitive. I wish there were more romance novels which focused on good men rather than Alpha males.
I don’t know if Alpha/Beta/Omega/Whatever is a good way to characterise a man – is there a possiblilty that a man can be a bit of both?
I married a good man but an absent man. He’s in the Army and, very often, he has to put his men before me and our children. So far, so Alpha male. Yet, that dedication to an ideal of public service is part of why I fell in love with him. He has integrity, honour, courage and is dutiful and committed.
So, he can be away from home in dangerous parts of the world (as he is right now) and then he can come home and switch right into ‘Daddy’ mode and bathe the children and read bedtime stories in funny voices.
I can’t always depend on him to change the lightbulbs, fix the washing machine or cook dinner when I’m sick but I can depend on him to be faithful, trustworthy and supportive of our goals in raising our sons.
He will hold my handbag when I’m sick – if he’s there. Unfortunately, sometimes he isn’t there. His recent deployment saw him leaving just four days after I had emergency surgery.
Mind you, this works for us because I’m a bit of an Alpha female – I’d rather get on with things on my own and run things to suit me. It does us good to have times apart because we appreciate each other more when we are together.
In conclusion, I can understand the appeal of the “omega” man but I think I married an Alpha man who has some omega-ish traits – and that’s fine by me. 🙂
I think the thing that makes a successful alpha hero is the degree to which he’s also an omega. (I like the omega label, fwiw.)
An alpha without those kind, generous, loving traits is a blowhard, control-freak asshole. An alpha WITH those traits is a romance hero.
Heh. I watched a biography show on Jesse Ventura when he was governor of Minnesota and fell madly in love with him. Loud and alpha-ish, yes. But the clips of interviews with his wife and kids showed a loving husband and father, who was deeply loved in return. Mrrrowr.
Yep, the omega / ‘sandwich’ hero hits the nail on the head! I wonder what would happen if soneome specified ‘must hold purse in the waiting room’ on e-harmony? 🙂
Now, I’m trying to picture some characters in books a few (or more) years down the road.
I wonder what fifty years, an illness or an accident would do to Jess & Dain from Loretta Chase’s Lord of Scoundrels?
(Damn, now I wish someone’d write an anthology around this idea!)
It’s kind of a side-note, but is there a novel where the hero turns out to be an ‘omega’ that’s in a lower social class or position? Does anyone ever run away with a steadfast butler . . .? I can’t recall seeing one.
I think, in a Regency/Victorian romance, if the hero is lower class he has to be alpha to make up for it.
Carla Kelly, The Lady’s Companion, a Regency classic. The hero is the land manager, a Welshman who was an enlisted man during the war. He’s a wonderful, steady guy who knows he can’t fall for the heroine ‘cause she’s a lady—but they fall in love anyway. Excellent, three hanky book.
Sycorax: I adore Jonah Griggs. The book itself is beautiful and sad, and every time I reread it I’m left with those feelings, but Griggs adds heartwarming to the mix.
Oh, I’m so glad someone else here knows it! I love everything about On the Jellicoe Road, but I think Taylor’s relationship with Jonah (as well as her friendships) balances out the heartbreaking elements in the plot.
I married a firefighter.
Enough said
I’m late commenting on this because on the day it was posted, I was in the hospital having a hysterectomy. Not such a big deal, but it was to me because it means that my fiance- a man I’ve been with for a year and a half, who I’ll be marrying next spring- and I won’t be able to have any children together.
Except that doesn’t matter to him. He’s accepted my daughters from my first marriage as his own, and even tolerates their father for their sake. To me, he’s exactly that “99% hero” described in the post. When we met, I was a year and a half out of an emotionally abusive marriage, and he’s been the one to cuddle and reassure me, to cheer me on when I feel strong and to be strong for me when I can’t quite manage it.
This morning, he told me I’m sexy. I looked at him like he was nuts; I stood there, four days post-surgery, and couldn’t believe he’d find me sexy under the circumstances. When I said that to him he said, “Duh. I love you.”
That’s a hero, as far as I’m concerned. And yeah, Omega definitely works, because I plan on this relationship lasting.
Karenna: I wish you a very speedy recovery, and a wonderful marriage.
A very belated comment to this, but as I am new to the blog I hope that can be forgiven.
While I was in college, I would frequently miss several days of classes each month due to excruciatingly painful menstrual cramps, a problem which I snarked about to my then-friend, now-husband. Birth-control medicine has drastically reduced such problems, but they do pop up from time to time, and speaking of time things don’t always start when they’re supposed to.
So! During the space between my friend becoming my best friend and later husband, I found myself lying on the couch in my apartment, grumbling because sitting up was painful and I’d run out of pads and tampons. My sweetheart looked at me sympathetically and asked (I don’t recall the exact words, but I remember the sweet and almost hopeful tone of his voice), “Would you like me to go to CVS for you? I’ve tried to pay attention to the kind [of pads] you like.”
I was floored. Not because he wasn’t sweet, or because he wasn’t thoughtful—he was, and is—but because this was not something I expected. There was a mundanity (?) about it that made me think I should expect this sort of thing from any decent person, and yet I don’t.
I haven’t, thankfully, had to go through anything worse than crutches for a badly scraped leg while we’ve been together, but between the small, ordinary wonderfulness he brought, he also drove 300+ miles every other weekend to see me while I was in school out-of-state.
That, I think, is more than to be expected.