In their Romancing the Blog column today, Scott & Scott write:
In interview after interview, from the smallest local gay newspapers to the New York Times Magazine, reporters ask us about the impact our gay romance novels have on the community; they ask us what we represent within our culture. Perhaps this is easier for us to articulate, given our minority status….
Thus, we are disappointed that straight romance writers accept condemnation of the work they are doing, or internalize a certain sense of shame regarding their craft.
Is it easier to articulate from a minority position? I have to agree. I’ve been sitting here staring at my keyboard, trying to answer the same question from the Smart Bitch perspective: what do romance novels represent within our culture?
What are we looking for in romance? Is it our predilection for a happily-ever-after? Is it to know that love is possible when there’s a world of hurt surrounding us? Is it the escape into a fantasy of honorable love and balances of power, where the good guy wins and the bad guy gets it in the end?
More importantly, at least to my mind at present, do we accept a certain sense of shame regarding the craft and the enjoyment of romance?
Well, yeah. But I have to admit, I’m really and truly ok with that. I think a lot more change and shifting is accomplished from within the subtle, demonized medium of romance. Sure, intelligent people dismiss it as drivel and tripe, but as we’ve discussed here, we know differently.
Would romance be as good as it is if the majority of the world who looks down on it, suddenly changed their tune and gave it a chance? Personally, I like romance as a secret pleasure. I like knowing that I’m both intelligent and a fan of romance. I don’t think the two are mutually exclusive – but I admit a certain amount of smug pride when people give me the, “Oh, you read romance?” face, like they can’t decide how to reconcile that fact with other demonstrations that I also, indeed, have a functioning brain. And I don’t wear cotton-poly puffy-paint kitten sweatshirts.
Further, there’s a great deal of irony in the fact that romance, while being the red-headed stepchild of the book publishing world and the books that people love to look down on, is still one of the top selling genres in the world. Nora Roberts outsells Stephen King and Tom Clancy, but you never see her name as a top author when people start tossing the Chrichton and the Grisham around (and yes, please do toss them around and see if a good plot falls out).
Romance is huge money and huge business for publishing houses in many ways, yet still, I want to embrace it as subversive and less-than-mainstream. I know, looking at romance as “not mainstream” is rather dim of me, since you can buy it at the grocery store, but when I look at romance, and the patina of shame and guilty pleasure that surrounds it, I’m kind of pleased, because it’s like my own little secret.
I and so many Smart Bitch readers know that real romance isn’t paint-by-numbers drivel, no matter how much of that crap is thrown into publication. We know that real romance is all about subversion, celebration, and exploration. It subverts Greek and Roman myth, social standards, and actively recasts women in new roles, while allowing for the exploration of emotional and personal problems that are real and yet more approachable in the world of fiction. Readers of romance also know a little more about history, how the industrial revolution affected women and men, and how class levels can and cannot be crossed. We know a little about how the English language developed, even if we don’t necessarily believe that Scottish people toss around the word “Sassenach” every third sentence (nor that Vikings wore horned helmets).
Ricky Gervais from The Office is fighting the movement of his show from BBC2 to BBC1, which I understand from the American perspective as moving from Bravo, or HBO, to NBC. It makes this little phenomenon show mainstream, and, in his words, into something people can tune into as background entertainment: “We want people to choose it, not just turn it on.”
I feel the same way about romance. I’m kind of glad it has a tawdry reputation, because I like meeting other people who choose romance, and discovering other clever people who choose it because they get it. I think we represent that subculture of women who “get it.” It’s not just throbbing members and turgid bazooms. And it’s not just sparkly happily-ever-after, either. To craft a clever plot within an existing structure is hard, not easy. It’s easy to write a meandering, pointless novel; it’s not easy to make sure the expected elements of a fictional structure are present, while also making sure that they are offered in a new and crafty way. So when I call it my secret pleasure, I don’t mean that I feel guilty. I mean that I am pleased that I “get” the secret, and I love it when other people do, too.
I mostly don’t mind that people look down on romance—In my experience, 9 times out of 10 they are people who don’t read much at all—functioning, voluntary illiterates, if you will—and I give their opinions the respect they deserve.
As someone who worked in a very chi-chi upscale bookstore for several years, I started the job determined to hide my secret romance reading habit (after already having worked at Waldenbooks as a romance expert, with great success). I felt sure that the managers and staff would think I was a complete moron for reading romance, and would sneak to the section on break, etc. and for awhile would even by the books at other store locations, rather than my own store.
Then one day I had a breakthrough. An assistant manager asked me (quite casually) what I read and without thinking about it I straightened my spine and in loud, ringing tones that must have echoed through the entire 2 stories of the store I announced “I read romance, and I am not going to apologize for what I read!” (In my own head I was so ready for the follow up pity-gaze that I jumped the gun.) I will never forget his complete look of shock as he assured me “I’m a bookseller, I would never make people feel bad for READING!” If only everyone would feel that way!
Anyway, I guess I wanted to say that the ‘stigma’ attached to romance doesn’t bother me anymore—I enjoy reading it, I am open about it, end of story. Yes, I still get funny looks occasionally, but frankly, if those people weren’t judgmental about my books they would be judgmental about something else. And I for one would much rather face a bit of petty misconception and mockery over my reading choices than over my looks, sex, weight or skin color.
When it comes to snobbery in the arts, I’ll admit I agree somewhat with Rob in High Fidelity: “What really matters is what you like, not what you’re like.” However, there’s a certain amount of variance to my snobbery. For instance, I don’t think poorly of someone who thinks Linda Howard is the bee’s knees, because while she’s not to my taste, I concede that her books are quite solidly put-together. But someone who thinks, say, Cassie Edwards or Connie Mason novels are the Best Thing Ever—and I mean, really, truly, without irony think these books are great pieces of writing? I’d have to look at them askance.
And romance novels definitely aren’t just turgid members and heaving bosoms—not any more, anyway. But because 90% of what’s out there tends to be crap (or at least, crap we won’t enjoy), and because romance novels make up such a huge market share, the raw amount of crap in romance is going to outweigh the amount of crap in other genres. This can work against the perception of the genre when someone decides to try romance novels for a lark (like I did) and pick up a romance novel at random (like I did) only to get burned BADLY by the horrible writing found therein (like I did).
I’ll admit that I sometimes veer between feeling ashamed and not-ashamed of being a romance reader. (As I get older and I start giving less and less of a shit of what people think of me, I tend to lean towards “not.”) I seem to have snobbery hard-wired in me, though I’m not sure why or how. I do realize a lot of it’s related to the ugly covers.
Funny you should say that, because I think of you as more adventurous than I am, Candy, because you will find great books hidden behind bad covers, whereas I look at mullet-man with man-boob and run the other way. Unfair of me, I know, but I often find myself haughtily insulted by bad covers. Not only on the “how dare you force me to cart this crap-looking tawdry excuse for a bare-chested man around with me” but in the “how dare you think that the women who read romance want to look at that tawdry-ass crap” sense.
Well, yeah, I guess I’m somewhat more forgiving about the covers—yet paradoxically my shame runs deeper because of it.
*sobs wretchedly*
For the question “do we accept a certain sense of shame regarding the craft and enjoyment of romance?” I was reminded that awhile back I read something on Jennifer Crusie’s web page that addresses this (as well as some other salient points we’ve been discussing here), so thought I’d give everyone a gentle push in that direction. I think she makes several valid points that at first I thought were taking the genre of romance and what it means to women too seriously. As the flap over “chick lit” has grown, though, I’ve come to see that the squeemishness over stories that are woman-centric goes beyond the romance genre and is quite widespread indeed.
http://www.jennycrusie.com/nonfiction.php
Go to the ‘Defeating the Critics’ and ‘So Bill’ links specifically.
We’ve also talked here about how sometimes we wish we didn’t know the personal opinions of our favorite authors on certain subjects, so thought I’d also point that out as a reminder if you fear knowing JC’s opinions will have you thinking less of her work.
Sarah and Candy:
Yeah, I like that ‘secret club’ thing too; in a weird way, I get a big thrill out of reading a book with an eye-rolling cover in public. In most other ways, I am what I look like: a liberal East Coast mom. But when I pull out a lurid cover, I’m blowing the doors off of people’s preconceptions of what romance readers look like. I think that’s cool. Probably way too indie-rock of me, but it makes me gleeful. I definitely agree about the skill required to write a damn good novel, romance or otherwise—I am in awe of Ivory, Kinsale, Balogh, Stuart, and Carlyle, among others. Just as I am in awe of Chandler, McDonald (Ross, not John D.), Hammiett, William Gibson, Neal Stephenson and other great writers whose writing just happens to fit into a genre.
Megan
I admit that I’m actually quite snobbish about my open-mindedness and look down my nose on anyone who only reads, say literary fiction, not because it’s what they prefer but because they feel it’s the only genre that can produce worthy novels.
But you know, have to tame the ego. Makes no sense emulating bad behaviour, turn the other cheek blah blah etc. 🙂
I don’t know about this post—it seems either like you’re trying to make lemonade out of lemons or you’re indulging in reverse snobbery, neither one of which seems too attractive to me.
The day that gay romance novels are fully embraced by the romance community will be a great and meaningful day for gay rights; and the day that Romance as a genre becomes respectable to the larger reading community will be a great and meaningful day for women’s rights. (I’m afraid I was too lazy to click over to Jennifer Crusie’s statement, but I bet it was something like my latter point.) In the meantime, it’s fun to think that great romance novels are our secret, but isn’t that the consolation prize?
Also, I understand Ricky Gervais’s concern re The Office but it also reminds me just a little of Jonathan Franzen’s concern over his book becoming an Oprahs’ Book Club pick. I understand that artists worry about commercialization, etc., but I still think they’re better served by getting their work out in front of the largest audience possible. To think otherwise really seems like patronization of the audience to me. Why would you want to deprive someone of the chance to be exposed, however superficially, to something really good for a change, rather than to the usual mindless drivel? And besides, a self-selecting audience isn’t necessarily a discriminating one, it may just be insular or self-congratulatory.
I love your site, by the way, and wish I had more of a chance to comment rather than to lurk. Sadly, my timing is usually crappy.
Ahem, on thinking about what I just wrote, I realized that I must sound insanely preachy, for which I apologize. It’s late at night for me, and this post just really struck a nerve, for some reason. I think I’ve been reading too many feminist political blogs recently—my consciousness is raised a little too high at the moment.
Also, I know the gay acceptance thing wan’t really part of Scott & Scott’s or Sarah’s posts at all, but I do think it’s true. And I guess you could say the same about African-American romance. But that’s another can of worms entirely.
“…intelligent people dismiss it as drivel and tripe, but as we’ve discussed here, we know differently.”
Hey, I’m a Mensa member (doubtless NOT the only one here) who reads and writes romance. So, intelligent people don’t think that. Whiny pseudo-intellectuals with poor self-image may think that, but not intelligent people.
Griiiiin!
I qualified for Mensa, but I digress.
I produce the stuff. Even the other favored target,
erotica. I try my best to make sure that our readers get books with the elements they like about romance/erotica without insulting their intelligence.
Maybe part of the reason it’s so persecuted is that a LOT of crap is produced, and the publishers are not making as much of an effort to maintain quality control. This is especially true with small presses cropping up every day.
Every dorky, poorly edited book adds fuel to the fire. One of my authors and I read one of the freebie books at RT, and was actually howling with laughter. I forget the title, but it was a big NYC pub. I didn’t blame the author, I blamed the editor. Everything about it that made it crap could have been ironed out.
Standouts:
Info dump overload. In the space of the first thirteen pages, the only action was he entered the area, she sees him, he sees her, she walks up to him. The rest was all info dump.
There were WAY too many references to fire. Everything was flaming, burning, flaring, etc. It was a pyro’s dream.
Also, every time the hero and heroine came close to intimacy, she started crying. The book hinted she had been abused in some form, but never tells you exactly what the abuse was. Hence, instead of sympathizing with her, I just wanted the whiny bitch to shut up already and give me my love scene. Which, BTW, when it finally happened, consisted of some petting and an adrupt fade to black.
My author went to use the restroom, and mentioned to what turned out to be a big NY author what we were doing. Her response was pretty much, “Well, they published it, it must be good enough.”
That attitude doesn’t help, methinks.
E.D’Trix- I used to work at Waldenbooks. Met my husband there. I became the romance expert there, too, but no one minded since it was our best selling section.
Megan and Sarah- imagine the looks you get when you pull out one of those mullet-and-man-boob covers and you run into someone from church. And then they remember that you are a children’s pastor. That takes a certain amount of courage, lemme tell ya!
Great post.
I no longer try to justify why I write romance instead of “real” books (as well meaning people sometimes ask). I write the stories in my head. I research them heavily so I don’t insult a reader’s intelligence, and because my work ethic demands it. I write to entertain. I want to make money off of it. I want people to feel good when they close the back cover of my novel, and not feel like they wasted their time or money.
That’s it. I’m not trying to change the world, just make a reading experience enjoyable and my bank account bigger.
[completely OT, but I wanted to give the Smart Bitches a heads-up]
As seen in Publishers’ Lunch: “THE BOOK OF SPAM, a full-color, illustrated, often irreverent, guide to America’s favorite canned meat, [published] to coincide with its 70th anniversary celebration in 2007.” Mark your calendars!
Arethusa: Snobbish about open mindedness! Yes! I can totally get on board with that. It’s very easy for me to eschew compassion when faced with close-minded individuals in favor of outright scorn. From gay-rights to romance novels, if it ain’t hurting you, don’t get your knickers in a twist about it.
Octavia: Lemons/lemonade and reverse snobbery? You bet your sweet bippy! I have to ponder the idea that universal acceptance of romance will be a gain for women’s rights, but the fact is, yeah, I’m patting myself on the back for “getting it” when it comes to romance, and also acknowledging a slightly smug sense of self-satisfaction.
I personally, however, in my little bag of neuroses, nurse a huge fear and loathing of crowds and crowd mentality, so on that level I relate to Gervais and Franzen’s fears of over-commercialization. However, aside from some level of elitist snobbery, I also think that both men recognize the flash-in-the-pan element of commercialization. The massive consumer crowd is a fickle, fast moving bunch, and when something lands in the thick of their attention, it doesn’t last long. Not every book that lands in Oprah’s book list lasts as long as the Da Vinci Code has, and I think they feared the fast rise and fall and were looking more toward the slow rise and support of a smaller group of viewers. Sure it’s reverse snobbery but it’s also accurate reading of the way our commercial attention span works.
It’s never really bothered me that romance is the red-headed stepchild. I used to work in a bookstore. I knew how much stock moved and what genres sold best. Romance beat all of them, hands down. I’m a believer in “show me the money”. Other literary voices can look down on the genre and make snide remarks about its readers and writers, but I imagine authors like Nora Roberts just smile as they drop another million or two into their bank accounts.
I love romance novels. As a reader,it is a wonderful, affordable means of escape for me. I live a chaotic, stressful life. It’s nice to take a breather, step back in time and watch my perfect hero fall in love with the admirable heroine.
As a writer of romance, it still offers the escape avenue, just with a little more work and attention to detail. I’m currently writing a fiction centered around Macbeth MacFindlaech. I’ve had to research tanistry, the origins of uisge beathe and how trews were made in the 11th century. So while some may look down their noses when I tell them I write romance, I just grin and remember just how much I’ve added to my storehouse of knowledge by writing this “trashy novel”.
So when someone – stranger, friend, relative – asks me “You read that sappy crap?” I shrug and say “Yep. Read and write it. And love every minute of it.”
White raven: what’s a trew?
I hadn’t really considered that I could be participating in a bit of “reverse snobbery” by reading in the romance genre before. Which is interesting since I’m generally the first one to run the other direction when something becomes popular. For example, though I’ve been an avid reader since early grade school I think I was in my 20s before I even realized what the NY Times Bestseller list was. Once I realized that it was books that were popular, but not necessarily good, I went back to ignoring it again.
All this time I’ve only associated reading in this genre as something with a taint, as something to hide. So I wonder, is this like having a tattoo or a nipple piercing or admitting to watching porn used to be? That is, has it gone from being on the fringe and being shameful to being on the fringe and being cool?
Honestly, I don’t think it has.
“The Best Blue Job You’ll Ever Get”
Yikes! I just posted to the wrong spot. Dang, I wish there was an edit key.
Sarah: trousers. According to one of the sources I was reading, trews in the 11th century were similar to footie pajamas. They were gartered at the knee to prevent sagging. The Scots and Irish wore them under a very long saffron colored tunic. The Scots favored a checkered pattern that was sewn on the diagonal. I had to really dig for this info. There doesn’t seem to be reams of info. about 11th century Scotland, beyond royal family trees and notable battles.