Candy: Have you noticed that people, from loved ones to strangers on the Internet, will say things to you like, “Oh, you’ll like [X movie or Y book], it has a romance in it,” or make a disclaimer like “You might like this book, but it’s not really a romance.” It’s as if Romance as a genre has defined my media consumption patterns in many people’s heads, and they assume either that romances are all I like, or that I won’t enjoy something unless it features a love story.
Which is far, far, far from the truth. I enjoy reading love stories, yes, and I don’t have the spontaneous allergic reaction to girl cooties that seems to plague many people whenever a moment of tenderness rears its head in movies or books, but I can’t abide love stories that don’t fit.
Two recent examples that come to mind:
1. Silver and Leo in Lois McMaster Bujold’s Falling Free. The premise for the story was fantastic, the book as a whole was so-so, but the romantic sub-plot made me go “Buh?” It appeared out of nowhere, kind of toddled along half-assed, and then the curtains came down before we got to see the two of them actually interact in any substantial, romantically meaningful way.
2. Evie and V in the movie version of V for Vendetta. Now, I really, really like the movie, despite some of the incredibly muddled messages it sent and its lack of critical examination of V and his methods, but having Evie fall for V so abruptly and after all he’d put her through was unexpected and completely unnecessary—and not just that, it was CREEPY.
I don’t like romances that feel tacked on. If the arc and characters would’ve been fundamentally unchanged or actually improved if the romance hadn’t taken place, odds are good I’ll feel cranky, because I’ll feel manipulated. It’s as if the storytellers wanted to yank me around emotionally and went for one of the guaranteed cheap shots (the other major one being cute kids/animals in danger).
It’s not that I mind being manipulated—I’d argue that art attempts to manipulate very specific reaction from its viewers/consumers—but it peeves me when the storytellers are so unsubtle that I catch them in the process. This is why I don’t, as a general rule, like romantic comedies unless they’re kind of oddball, like Harold and Maude or The Royal Tannenbaums, or unless they’re really, really well-written and acted, like Say Anything.
In short: I’m perfectly happy enjoying stories that don’t feature romantic sub-plots. And it intrigues me that once people find out I like romance novels, they’re all “Oh, she must like X, Y or Z, because it has a romance in it.” Enjoying a good romance doesn’t mean I’ve lost all sense of discernment, and it certainly doesn’t mean that I won’t like something unless it’s heavy on the romance.
(Wow, I had to go back and count the negatives in that last clause to make sure I had it right. Hee.)
What do you think?
Sarah: I’ve been mulling your question for a few minutes and it’s odd. I rarely GET recommendations because people assume all I like is romance. My mother used to buy them by predominant color on the cover, ostensibly because they’re all the same and there’s no variation in quality (oh, for that to be true!) so they’re interchangeable. And really, if you read the cover copy, they do sound pretty much identical: There’s love! And hot sexx0ring! But there’s a problem! Will it survive? Of course it will but that’s not the point.
I agree with you, though, that love stories that Do Not Fit make me seethe with rage and ire. The example that stomps to the front of my brain is the shitfully awful Kate Beckinsale movie Underworld, which was so bad we call it ‘Underwear,’ where there was so much potential for coolness and it just sucked sucking suckyness. Vampire hunters, werewolves, war on the streets – and a love scene wedged in with one of those wood blocks you hold the door open with. The whole theatre groaned, and man did it bother me. I was kind of insulted as a fan of romance (even though this wasn’t your original point, bear with me) because you can just tack the lovey-dovey on expecting that it’ll fit, like all romance is, as I said, interchangeable (and as an overly-sensitive corollary, all us romance fans are too dumb to know the difference).
I agree with the “cheap shots” idea – like wedging a romance in with the elephants in the funny car won’t make a difference because romance sells in movies and books and tv (see above about how romance fans = too stoopid to know the difference between good and bad romance – hence the existence of our site).
And I’m with you that I’m perfectly happy to enjoy stories that aren’t romance. I have a love of crime dramas and forensic shows – this is because I can eat spaghetti and meatballs while watching an autopsy on tv – and I’m perfectly happy to watch them without the unneccessary and often stupid addition of workplace romance between the characters. (That said, I’m pleasantly surprised by the secrecy and low-key revelations of Grissom and Sara on CSI and I find myself praying the writers don’t wonk it all up. )
But is the over-addition and shoehorning of romance into any plot a question of attitude that romance is dumb and romance fans are dumb ergo it makes no nevermind to toss it in like a spice that makes little difference except in huge quantities? A question of potential profit, like romance + action = sex + gunfire and explosions = Big Money No Whammies?
Candy: I think it’s a bit of both, honestly. A shoehorned romantic subplot is often an attempt to appeal to a wider audience (usually the female portion), and let’s be honest here, most purveyors of mass media don’t tend to over-estimate the intelligence of their audiences, romance readers or not—think of all the gratuitous explosions and T&A they stick into action movies to draw the guys in. But I think there are two other aspects:
1. Laziness. The storytellers need to pad the story for 50 more pages (or 50 more minutes), so they stick in a romance.
2. Like I said before, it’s shorthand, an attempt to draw forth a familiar response from people, because awww, who HASN’T been in love before? And lookit the wacky lovers! Aren’t they sweet?
I think my negative reaction is so strong because my gag threshold is really low, which tends to surprise people who know how much I enjoy romance.
Also, while I can totally understand why people who write to me because of this website make mostly romance recommendations, I wonder why people who have actually looked at my bookshelves (which hold a whole lot of romance, true, but they also hold a whole lot of Other Stuff), still insist on having the romance genre predominate their assumptions of what I’ll enjoy. Some people don’t fall into this trap and twig onto other things that I’ll love, like Nina Merill, who gave me a book on pathoparasitology, bless her heart. Frankly, in terms of out-of-the-blue “Hey, you gotta read THIS!” sorts of recommendations, I’d much rather that people point me to SF or literary fiction, because I’m picky about my romance. It’s as if being a Romance Reader is napalm of sorts: once it gets on you, it sticks, and it burrrrrns, oh, it burrrrrrrns, and it ends up consuming your identity.
Sarah: The idea of shoehorning romance makes me think of the movie Jerry Maguire. A friend of mine said to her boyfriend and his friends while they were in line waiting for tickets (at the theatre – given the cost of tickets they must have REALLY wanted to see it) that she was so amazed they’d all be so into the idea of seeing a romance movie.
They said she was nuts, that it was a sports movie.
Some reviews at the time said it was a hybrid, but when I saw it, I never bought the romance between Cruise and Zellweger. I thought it was klutzy and too filled with cliches – cute kid! single mom! that weird face Zellweger makes when she’s trying to emote something – and didn’t really make it for me as a romance in the slightest. I wondered at the time if it had been an afterthought to make it more appealing to a much wider audience.
Or maybe the story was meant to be that way and the movie just did the rendition poorly. Either way, I thought the romance was glued on to what would otherwise have been a good transformation story.
But then, consider the Bond series – EVERY Bond movie has a heroine “Bond Girl,” and that’s never really a romance. More like added sex to go with all the gadgetry and violence and explosions (and hot Bond actors, depending on the movie you’re watching). Is that decorative romance? Is that somehow ok? With Bond, I just take the added sexual figure as part of the formula, and never really invest that much in it anyway. It’s Bond, for heaven’s sake.
However, you are totally right that once you’re “outed” as a fan of romance, it’s tough to get recommendations for anything else. But I’ve noticed a flip side corollary to that – I’m pretty up front that when I’m hormonal (like I am now, boy howdy) all I want is romance. Seriously? I can’t even watch the news without bursting into sobby tears. I want a Happy Ending and I want it NOW GODDAMMIT and PASS ME A GLAZED DONUT TOO!
So various people I know have said, “Oh, I know a book you’ll like- ” and they’ll recommend a serious heart-string-yanker like Jodi Picoult. Now, no knocks to Picoult in the slightest. For one thing I haven’t read her books and for another, anyone who attempts fictional examinations of school shooting has big big balls. But just because something is hyper-emotional in subject matter doesn’t mean that it’s (a) like a romance, or (b) going to appeal to a romance fan [ or (c) something you should offer a very very overemotional pregnant lady]. Some people just don’t get what romance IS, and why it’s good in and of itself.
Candy: Awww, Sarah, Jerry didn’t have you at hello? *snrk*
Also, Bond Girls make sense once you understand that all of James Bond’s paraphernalia basically serve as penis accessories. Nifty high-tech gadgets? Penis accessory. Sleek new car? Penis accessory. Gun? Major penis accessory. Bond girl? ULTIMATE penis accessory.
Oh oh oh! And that’s an excellent point regarding how people who don’t read the genre just don’t get that many things that are conflated with romance novels really aren’t romance. I get cheesed off when people think “romances are all the same” and start recommending all sorts of sort-of-but-not-really romance titles to me, too—Danielle Steel and Nicholas Sparks recommendations, in particular, drive me batty. Just because it’s maudlin tripe doesn’t mean it’s romance.
And then these outsiders see me making fun of Danielle Steel books, glance my Fabio-titty-beladen bookshelves, and look at me with cocked brow, and I stammer helplessly “I know it looks really bad, but…but…I swear…no, really…they’re…ARGH.”
Sarah: I completely agree with Bond girls: No one expects a romance. They expect sex and more penis-y satisfaction, even though there’s always a hint the Bond is “falling for her” and sometimes you see her get killed off in the beginning of the next movie (or am I, as usual, misremembering?) – which of course he gets over VERY quickly after a few solemn looks. It’s totally an accessory. With breasts. None of Q’s Bond gadgets have breasts.
The other thing about romance from outsiders is that not only do they assume that Danielle Steel is to Nicholas Sparks is to Cassie Edwards… is to Susan Elizabeth Phillips is to Jennifer Crusie is to Nora Roberts but there’s no acknowledgment that there’s any subgenres. Vampire romance is just like historical is just like contemporary slapstick romance, right? Sure. It’s all the same – and really, the fact that folks outside the genre don’t recognize that there’s variations in quality just like there’s variations in quality in any other mega-popular genre drives me nuts.
And moreover, just because a novel has a great deal of emotional draw and seeks a heavy emotional reaction from the reader does NOT mean it’s a romance. Just because a book is described as “tugging on the heartstrings” does not mean that I, as a fan of romance, am going to love it. It’s not the same thing. I can’t figure out if the emotional impact recommendations are sent my way because as a fan of romance I must be after any and all emotional payoff in my reading, or if people really don’t see the intricacies of the difference between such books and a romance novel.
I’ll echo those who’ve recced The Mummy as a well-threaded romantic subplot. Not to mention the beefcake eye candy can make a girl dizzy.
I think the movie that bothered me most in terms of poorly-stuck-in-romance that ended up sticking out like a sore tentacle had to be Attack of the Clones (yes, I’m a Star Wars geek). It continued in Revenge of the Sith, with the supposed Chosen One doing all sorts of TSTL in the name of twoo_wuv, but AOTC set my teeth on edge. It felt like something written by a man who hadn’t dated a woman in twenty years, and who didn’t talk to any in that span of time, either.
Anakin: “I killed them all, the women, the children.”
Padme: :::do me:::
::headdesk::
Okay, so the posts about the RITAs days back, and this post, got me thinking again about a question that’s been lurking in my mind for a while, so I’ve asked it over on my research blog: Is romance too broad and diverse a genre to be effectively covered by one ‘label’?
Thoughts from the Bitchery – and anyone else – are welcome.
(And here endeth the shameless research promotion)
Hmmm… I think I’m increasingly glad I didn’t see the third movie, considering the little kid and Padme had more chemistry than the awkward first cousins thing she and Anakin had going in the second. Sad sad sad…
I hadn’t thought about the Mummy! That was a good one! And well-deserved!
Bron…yes, “Romance” is kinda like “Caucasian”…too large a catagory to adequatley define anything.
Both 69?
I’m a bad, bad girl. I thought “300” was boring beyond dull, and after fifteen minutes of all the beautiful, half-naked men in what looked like leather adult diapers, I began to think their 84-packs were just as CGI as the backgrounds. 🙁 Oh, well. Different drummers, I suppose.
Ooh, I’d have done Ardeth Bay…. Sorry, what were we talking about? 🙂
Human brains are hardwired to put things in categories and give them all their place (which helps us not go insane from the sensory overload people would experience if they didn’t have these filters), which is why having a “Romance” category is handy. The problem comes in when you ask Person A what they would put in “Romance,” and then assume Person B will put that same item in there as well. Titanic the movie? Yeah, NOT romantic to me. If the dude dies at the end, how is that romantic? That’s sad, not romantic. I don’t find Victorian soppiness romantic, but lots of people do.
Then again, the stuff I find romantic (a guy who would buy me something I want, even if it is a really sweet vacuum cleaner that sucks up all the pet dander and dust, instead of candy which I likely wouldn’t be able to eat considering my particular food allergy) would anger lots of other people.
Maybe the insult isn’t to us as Romance readers, but to us as human beings. A feeling that said book suggestor should know us well enough to know how wrong-wrong they are in our tastes?
Sorry, the point of that long ramble was this:
Romance as a category is a really handy starting place. Otherwise, you’d have a billion-million smaller categories (Vampires! Vampire books without nasty sex in! Vampire books with nasty sex in! Vampire books with leather! ad nauseum) and people like me—who don’t necessarily read by category but by writing skill of the authors—would have a much harder time “skimming” the best out of the bunch.
As it is, I know I generally like books that fall in the Romance category. I also like other categories, but we’ll start here. So I go to that category and start shelf-reading until I find something that catches my eye and interest.
If you split it all out into smaller subgenres, it would take forever and I might miss a good book because it’s not in a place I usually look.
Besides, it would be a pain in the ass to catalogue it by subgenre. Hell, it’s pain in the ass enough cataloguing by main genres!
Sorry, it’s Friday, I’m rambling. 🙂
Katie, I thought the abs in 300 were likely CGI’ed as well…but since I had shelled out $16 to see it at the IMAX, I decided to get whatever enjoyment I could out of it.
I agree with you on the need to classify books into general categories to help readers weed down to at least a shorter list. The problem becomes a tug-of-war between market segmentation and finding larger markets. How do you find all the people who are likely to enjoy a particular book, without spamming the hell out of everyone else? How many of the outlying “probably would buy it” folks do you opt to ignore so you can focus on the core readership?
There is no perfect solution, and the price we (as readers) pay for getting generally accurate recommendations is that occasionally we get pigeonholed or people recommend things we hate.
Sorry late to the discussion.
A person in my life got sort of hostile when they saw quite a few no-romance books on my TBR shelf (I send them off to friends after i’m done) “Well aren’t you the smarty pants reader!”
I’ve seen readers get mighty pissed when a romance author branches off into another genre. I think what happened the other day to me kind of explained (to me anyway) why people feel so uncomfortable when when you stray outside the little box they have drawn for you.
On the 300—EW quoted the actors as working out constantly in order to get into shape. I don’t think all those muscles were CGI’ed PB