Candy’s column on forced sex between heroes and heroines made me think of two males in romances I’ve read, and why the unwilling sex depicted within didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would.
My secret love of Coulter’s Midsummer Magic
The hero, Hawk, has to marry Frances or one of her sisters, and because she disguises her fiery personality (because you can’t be Scottish if you don’t have (a) red hair and (b) a fiery personality to match, och och och) behind a wonderfully awful dowdy costume, he marries her. His life won’t have to change much – he’ll dump her dumpy ass in the country, head on back to London, boink his mistress, go to parties, and head north every so often so that he can head north up her passage and beget an heir.
This is where the oft-discussed “cream” to ease that passage north comes in. He forces Frances several times despite her clear refusal, and has to use cream to smooth his way. And, you know, it’s a tough call for me to declare that he’s 100% wrong because they’re married, and in historical context, sex was part of the marital deal. While spousal rape is a crime in a lot of countries now, it sure as shit wasn’t then.
Yes, no means no and it sucks that she’s in that position, but hey, he doesn’t want to be married to her any more than she wants to be wedded to him. And yeah, yeah, he couldn’t see through her disguise to see the hawt sexy fiery redheaded Scottish vixen of awesomeness that she is, and eventually Frances wins him over with her true self. Likewise Frances rested purely on her initial reaction to Hawk and discovered later that they have a great deal in common, not the least of which is a big stormcloud of sexual attraction. But is he wrong to expect sexual intercourse now that they’re married? Is he absolutely in the wrong because she said no and he went ahead anyway?
Consider Sophia Nash’s A Dangerous Beauty
When Rosamunde finally reveals how horrible her husband was – and he was a right slimeball, no mistake about it – I was with her in deepest empathy all through the parts where he controlled her, punished her, emotionally abused her and made her feel like crap every day of her life with him. But when Rosamunde related the details of his footsteps pausing outside his door, knowing that he was going to come into her room for conjugal relations, I had to say, “Ok, but….”
In historical romance, somehow in my brain there’s a forced sex loophole within the marriage of the characters. Yes, it sucks when your slimeball of a husband wants to boink you, and it’s even worse that he takes enjoyment out of the fact that you clearly, clearly hate it, but those are the historical facts of the time – there was an understood expectation of conjugal rights. Even now, spousal rape isn’t a crime in a whole list of countries. Even in the US, 33 of 50 states regard spousal rape as a lesser crime. So yeah, it sucks, and I’m horribly sorry for the heroine and I appreciate the trauma that results from having a wanking bastard of a husband force sex purely because he knows she hates it. But that’s unfortunately the deal. Rosamunde had a lot more ground to stand on when listing the details of her awful first husband when she related his emotional abuse.
A lot of the defining moments of creating the alpha hero, particularly in historical romances, rest on his attitude and approach to sex, most certainly with the heroine. Alpha heroes most frequently think with their little alphas, and the degree to which they do so often determines how redeemable they are by the ending – if there is a fully happy ending. As Candy pointed out, sometimes these alphas are such complete idiots that they really don’t reach restoration by the end.
But when the alpha hero – or even the abusive villain, in the case of Nash’s book – is demanding or forcing sex within a marriage to a heroine, I have a harder time categorically dismissing him as Teh Most Ebil Alpha Ever. It’s not entirely historically inaccurate, and because of that fact I have room to empathize with the hero in that situation, even if only a little bit. And for me, that tiny bit of empathy keeps that particular alpha from being unredeemable.
I put pressue on other women, I know, because after twenty countries and two languages, I know I can walk into a room of women and find common ground. It’s harder with men because often mens’ interests are in opposition to what’s good for me. Some groups of men who suffer from discrimination see discrimination against women as similar to what they go through. Sometimes they react by clinging to their manhood as it gives them the comfort of knowing ‘at least they’re not women.’
I have to tell you, there’s nothing more eye-opening than being in Iraq and wearing a helmet, gloves, combat boots, face goiter to protect my fishbelly white skin from the sun, goggles, thirty pound flak vest, carrying a rifle and pounds’ of ammo and then seeing a woman walking quite comfortably along in a burka and realizing there’s more than one definition of restrictive clothing—-and who knows, right? Her outfit sure looked a lot more comfy than mine, or at least more constrictive. Flak vests aren’t designed for people with boobs, let me tell you.
I have a hard time with romance because I’ve gotten used to being one of the boys, and I’ve questioned what’s feminine and loveable and what’s not. I just know I want to be accepted and loved for everything I am, soldier and ballet dancer and all, and I want to read books that reflect that. I mean, I have this weird idea that you can love somebody but that doesn’t mean you like them. And I think that’s what unnerves me about a lot of romance in this vein——how often do you see the Bogie and Bacall type banter that means the characters really like one another, that they find each other’s company incredibly entertaining and comfortable? Maybe that’s not possible where the guy’s an alpha, but I think I know some alpha females, too, and real alpha guys—-like the Special Forces guys I knew in Iraq——used to compliment me on being professional and stuff rather than find it threatening. My opinion might be weird because of my background but after reading lots of romance I just can’t shake the feeling that the heroes don’t like the heroines much, nor care for their welfare or feelings.
I have a shitload of things I want to say about the feminist issue that I’m composing a long-ish post on (especially conceptions of masculinity and femininity), but there’s something I want to address right away, and in these comments:
See, Sebastian’s redemption was completely believable for me because he KNEW what he was doing was morally questionable, and because he was never quite satisfied or comfortable with it. His change of heart was believable because it was more a change of behavior, rather than a change of core belief. I can believe in a character who knows the right thing to do and for whatever reason chooses to do the wrong thing before fully coming to realize how awful he was later, vs. a character who doesn’t even think that he did anything particularly wrong and then is later struck by some kind of thunderbolt of realization (usually driven by the fact that he’s in LURVE, OMG). Having the balls to apologize for making mistakes is good, but I appreciate self-awareness as well.
The behavior of other rapists in romance novels don’t display the same self-awareness that I saw in Sebastian, asshole though he was initially. I find it interesting that some people insist on reading those scenes as sex and sexual desire, and that the woman needed to be persuaded more forcefully. I’m not going to make the mistake of equating rape fantasies with actual rape, but I do think that it displays an interesting window into our cultural worldview of what constitutes rape. Najida, in particular, is an interesting case, because she seems to grasp exactly what rape is about on one hand, and then vociferously denies that what she’s read and enjoyed constitutes rape.
Clarification: “those scenes” in “I find it interesting that some people insist on reading those scenes as sex and sexual desire…” refers to various rape scenes in assorted romance novels, not the scenes between Rachel and Sebastian in To Have and To Hold.
While I know this is “Kick the Shit Out of Najida Day” and I hate to interupt the parade on my way to the ER—- can you site what I like that you consider rape and I don’t?
Not saying that you might be right, I just don’t remember the specifics. May the the head wound.
You’re a fan of Linda Howard, yes? Also Kathleen Woodiwiss, Johanna Lindsey and Catherine Coulter?
I have a hard time with romance because I’ve gotten used to being one of the boys, and I’ve questioned what’s feminine and loveable and what’s not.
I’m not and never have been in the military (thank you for serving, by the way, and I mean that most sincerely), but I also find that I have numerous problems with the way femininity and loveability are defined in Romance. Female characters, in particular, seem to have many restrictions on how they can be portrayed, although I think male characters are quite constrained, as well, even though we don’t talk about it as much. Jane of Dear Author wrote a very interesting opinion piece on this topic:
http://dearauthor.com/wordpress/2007/08/07/romance-choices-falsity-alone-and-miserable-or-together-and-happy/
I mean, I have this weird idea that you can love somebody but that doesn’t mean you like them. And I think that’s what unnerves me about a lot of romance in this vein——how often do you see the Bogie and Bacall type banter that means the characters really like one another, that they find each other’s company incredibly entertaining and comfortable? Maybe that’s not possible where the guy’s an alpha, but I think I know some alpha females, too, and real alpha guys—-like the Special Forces guys I knew in Iraq——used to compliment me on being professional and stuff rather than find it threatening.
I don’t think it has to do with whether the hero is alpha; I think it has to do with how the author takes time to craft the relationship between the two characters. IMO it’s much more difficult to portray characters who are bonded through more than sexual attraction or mutual appeal; showing real affection or respect requires a certain fleshing out of the characters, a marrying of different characteristics and a sense of emotional intimacy that grows over time. While I don’t think such a thing is impossible in the factory farming publishing model currently in vogue, I do think it’s more difficult, and more often than I’d like, that sense of emotional and personality connection between the characters is shorthanded into sexual attraction or sparring or whatever. To use one of my favorite analogies—food—I’d say that when that deeper connection between characters is missing it’s like munching on too much snack food—you may get an initial charge, but you feel hungry and tired again way too soon.
Honestly, I think that people in any long term relationship go through periods where as much as they love their partner, they just don’t like him or her. I don’t know if I want to read this in Romance where it’s intentional—that is, where you don’t have the hero patronizing the heroine to show how “alpha” he is. That’s an interesting possibility, actually, but it would take quite a good deal of skill on the part of the author, I think.
I just finished reading Susan Johnson’s Forbidden (I’m working my way through her old historicals), and despite some REALLY over-dramatic writing I LOVE the way she portrays the real difficulty in having two strong (alpha) characters fall in love and try to carve out a satisfying life together. Oh, it was so delicious to watch Daisy and Etienne become angry with each other, really angry, wanting sometimes to actually hurt each other but unable to go through with it. And then to watch them struggle with their extreme feelings, and the inevitable compromises they each had to make to be together. I so wish that more Romances today burrowed down into the protagonists’ personalities and ferreted out all those nuances of an emotionally and physically intimate relationship.
Let me be very clear….
I’m a big of Linda Howard,
I like some, not all of Woodiwiss,
and I stopped reading Lindsay and Coulter for the reasons being discussed here.
What is the kicker for me is the female’s choices and her own internal sexuality. If she chooses, if shes attracted, if she feels safe and if the biggest battle is with herself than with him, I can buy the scene.
In THATH, the heroine has been previously sexually abused, horribly. She’s pretty much a mess. Then Sebastian comes along and well, continues the abuse in the same coldblooded vein. And even, up until the very last second, is going to hand her over to his friend as a sex toy.
But like a car going 80 mph doing a bootleggers turn, he suddenly gets a heart. It’s been a while since I read the book. He may have had some squicking going on inside his head, but I didn’t buy the change. It’s too sudden with too little trauma or motivation.
Humans do not work that way, usually (I’m not saying it has never happened in the history of humanity, but I don’t believe it’s a common event).
Even squickier is the heroine falling for her rapist. Simply because she has had her choices taken away, and pretty much captive (if I remember, she doesn’t trust him for a very long time in the book). And her sexuality is nil.
So her behaviors I don’t totally buy either. So the book is a major ickfest for me. Again, distancing himself, allowing her time to heal and THEN trying to seduce her I could have bought, but he was having sex with her I believe soon after his ‘change’.
I find it interesting that some people insist on reading those scenes as sex and sexual desire, and that the woman needed to be persuaded more forcefully.
Although I think the genre sometimes facilitates this ambiguity, Candy. Take my favorite bandwagon example, Christina Dodd’s A Well-Pleasured Lady. The heroine (Mary?) is forced by the hero, and at the beginning of the scene, she displays what reads to me like *real* distress, for quite a while, actually. Then, of course, through the magic of the hero’s wicked wand, she’s converted to the astounding pleasure of her own magic hoo-hoo, and has the orgasm to end all orgasms. And then, IIRC, she still demonstrates some sense of trauma right aftewards. In any case, within several scenes (after she’s forced to marry said hero, with whom she’s found in the “compromising post-coital position”), she becomes the temptress/seductress, playing sexual dominatrix to the hero.
It frustrated me, that whole series of scenes, because I never felt that there was an intent to thoughtfully examine the line between rape and rape fantasy; rather, there seemed an uncomfortable combination of elements that seemed aimed at titillating the reader and elements that reflected how a character like Mary(?) would react to forced sex. And on top of that, there was, it seemed to me, more than a hint of that old ‘she needed to be loosened up by the hero’s magic wand’ justification.
I just think that there are more than a few occasions where rape or forced seduction or whatever you want to call it is used without a great deal of deliberate reflection (at least it reads that way to me, even if it’s not intended that way on the part of the author), and when that occurs, you get some real mixed messages.
What works for me so well in To Have and To Hold is that I NEVER had the sense that Gaffney was being careless or confused in what she was doing. It seemed to me that she understood exactly the line she was negotiating (well, more than one, really), and was writing deliberate ambiguity into those characters and those scenes. And so I trusted her to bring me through that extremely uncomfortable reading experience safely, and to bring Rachel and Sebastian though safely, as well.
And let me contrast with why I didn’t like the romance in “The Windflower”. I was almost buying up until the last few chapters.
BUT——
Lets see—-
You have a young innocent virgin who has those around her make choices for her without her consent, starting with her father, then her aunt, then some English nobleman and even the handiman manipulates events in her life! Total loss of freedom and lack of respect by those around her.
Then she’s kidnapped and put on a pirate ship, nearly drowned, scared silly, and repeatedly locked or tied up. Granted, she also becomes the dear of the crew and the hero, there’s lots of fluffy bunny happiness, gorgeous prose (yes, I noticed the prose), lots of wonderful characters….
But she’s also terrified out of her wits half the time and nearly dies of malaria also.
The ‘hero’ isn’t around much, he’s even missing for chapters at a time. And often, when he comes in the picture, the heroine isn’t sure of what is going on between them. He’s a very nebulous character for the reader, and unlike Anne Stuart, who can pull off “is he bad or is he good”, the tone of the book is too happy and light for him.
And the ‘romantic’ culmination of their relationship is her being taken somewhere by carriage, now scared spitless believing she might be hung.
Then, after trying to escape, and begging people to help her, STILL scared spitless, then is tied up for the last part of the journey, sleep deprived.
THEN she’s told that the hero is her intended from the get go, which doesn’t totally put her off, but she’s also pissed off enough to punch him. Which he laughs at and THEN she’s married by being awoken repeatedly during the vows and ‘yes’ demanded of her. Forced marriage?
And how do they have their first fluffy bunny sexual encounter? By him using a marked deck of cards, because he admits later, he couldn’t have got her to do it otherwise. Trickery to get sex? Semi-sorta, kinda forced seduction.
PLUS you have exactly one sentence that I remember in the heros thoughts, where he actually acknowledges that ‘gee, I’ve been a rat bastard and she’s been scared spitless for a year.’ No remorse or not near enough for 80% of the book with him either being absent or an ass.
You have one more gratuitous sex scene and the book is over.
At no point does said virgin make a choice about her life, except well, maybe the last chapter…sorta.
Easy fix would have been to give her some choices and some time. Heck an apology and a chapter of groveling maybe (I’m being funny here!)….but I really think the authors wanted to hurry up and finish the book.
Having the balls to apologize for making mistakes is good, but I appreciate self-awareness as well.
Have you read Gaffney’s Mad Dash yet, Candy? Because something about Gaffney’s Romances occurred to me when I read that novel. Dash spends a good deal of the book referring to her marital separation as a “game,” knowing she’s walking a line but wanting to test the limits of her safety in a sense. I think there’s some of that going on in THATH with Sebastian, too. So much of his behavior up until the Sully incident seems of that same variety—he’s testing out the limits of his power and authority, knowing it’s a dangerous game but unwilling to stop himself.
And that dynamic is really interesting, IMO, because it creates an incredible dramatic tension, of course, but also because I think it polarizes readers in their reaction. Some find it abusive, while others find that it can be forgiven. I don’t know what marks that difference, and obviously it’s a combination of different things for each reader and each book, but I know that when I feel that the testing of a character’s own boundaries is a prelude to or part of that character’s ultimate growth, maturation, and ability to love fully and freely, it can really work for me. Especially when I feel that the “victim” of the other character’s self-absorbed actions has his or her own power, too, and his or her own journey toward self-fulfillment to walk in the course of the novel.
Ultimately, I guess it has to do with how each of us view power in characters. That a character sees him or herself as powerful doesn’t necessary make it so for me (same for a character who views him or herself as powerless). I don’t mind differential power relationships in Romance when evening those out seems to be one of the journeys of the novel. Or when I can see more in the characters than they can yet see in themselves and each other.
I think that for me at least, it was that Rachel, for all intents and purposes, was a slave (he bought her, right?—-I’m trying to remember here). Or at least without choices and freedom.
For that, all aspects of the relationship are negated and tainted. IOW, IF she’d been free to choose, or at least free enough to feel safe. But Rachel breaks all my rules. No choices, no freedom, lack of safety and fearing/distrusting the hero AND, the biggie that seems to be ignored, damaged and in need of healing that only freedom, safety, trust AND choices can bring.
I think that for me at least, it was that Rachel, for all intents and purposes, was a slave (he bought her, right?—-I’m trying to remember here).
Actually, Sebastian hires her on as a housekeeper when faced with the reality that otherwise she will be remanded back to prison and then likely to the workhouse until death because she is indigent upon her release from prison and the victim of theft. No one else will employ her, and Sebastian is absolutely riveted by her, feeling both “pity” and sexual attraction, completely aware of his own hypocrisy and the “murky” motives he has for taking her on. So at one level you’re absolutely right that Rachel’s “choice” in this case is somewhat illusory—at least for any sane person. But what really gets to Sebastian is the quick flash of emotion he sees on Rachel’s face, the signs that she has not become so completely “hopeless” that she no longer cares enough to fear for her life. And yes, at the beginning he taunts her for that, tries to draw the reactions out of her, wanting her to be responsive to him in ways that are incredibly suspect.
BUT, and to me this is the crucial but, Rachel NEVER appears weak to me, only so wholly “remote” from her experience that she is turning in on herself. Right from the beginning, though, she shows Sebastian certain signs of defiance, refusing to rise to his bait, creating a persona of complete professional competency, wrapping herself in the mantle of her position. There is resolution in the way she tries to hold herself back from him that, not surprisingly, makes Sebastian even more intent on breaking through that remote deference.
Because, I think, Rachel is a mirror for Sebastian, a surface against which he suddenly must measure his own actions. One of the first things he notices about Rachel is her eyes—he thinks she’s blind, in fact—because they are so light (“they looked like crystal,” Gaffney writes). I don’t doubt Sebastian’s cruel self-absorption during those first few sections one little bit; and even when he’s squirming, as with Sully, he pushes beyond all points of acceptability in his behavior for me. BUT, because of the change he effects in himself, and because I never saw Rachel as weak, I was able to forgive Sebastian as she did. Because she does so, IMO, from a position of emotional strength, not from one of weakness. Rachel, IMO, has great emotional strength but no power at the beginning of the book, while Sebastian has great power but not so much emotional strength. And somehow, through their most difficult exchanges, they begin to furnish the other with that missing characteristic. Instead of dying inside, Rachel comes back to life, and while I do not think Sebastian did that, his action catalyzed the process, forcing Rachel to make the final decision about her existence: to live fully or erase herself completely. And she chooses life.
My reading of The Windflower is similar; what you see as disempowering for Merry, I see differently. For example, the card game preceding their marital consummation. At that point in the book, Merry wanted to sleep with Devon something terrible, but she was sort of backed into a corner, having told him how terrible he was, yada yada yada, and really having her pride at stake. So the rouse of the card game, IMO, provided her an opportunity to do what she already wanted to do while keeping some of her pride intact. She knows full well that Devon cheated, but by that point it doesn’t matter, because they are both so anxious and yet so full of bravado. If I thought for one moment that Merry wasn’t really willing, I would have hated that whole set-up, but in a sense I saw it as a kindness on Devon’s part, an understanding that Merry needed to keep her pride.
I basically see Devon as getting younger throughout The Windflower, as Merry gets older, which is one of the reasons that book works so well for me. You correctly point out that during the beginning of the novel Devon does not treat Merry with the greatest respect, but I would suggest that he more than redeems himself later when he comes so very close to sacrificing his life for her when she contracts malaria. They each have their moments of prideful bad behavior, IMO, but in the same way that Merry is “forced” to marry Devon to keep her safe, Devon is “forced” to marry Merry to save her reputation (and put an effective end to his holding on to the false belief that she betrayed him). I actually thought it was quite brilliant the way the Curtises use some of those old Romance tropes not straight on, but as rouses to allow the characters to do that which they want to but cannot shed their pride long enough to admit to.
So yeah, these books generate great divisions among readers, often around the question of whether the heroine is powerless. Same thing with Shana Abe’s The Smoke Thief. I think it often comes down to how we read the heroine in these polarizing books, even more than how we read the hero.
Oh, and I forgot to change “rouse” to “ruse” before hitting submit.
I think very often we take things very literally and apply it to ourselves. It’s that simple, and we look no deeper than “If this was me, how would I act? How would I feel? What would I do? What would I need?”
Nothing beyond that than the story on the surface. And yes, I feel some kinship with Rachel and maybe a teeny bit with Merry.
In both books, WF and THATH, for me, the simple act of choice, time and freedom, if given to the heroine (by the authors!), would have made all the difference for me. Then anything would go….
Instead, the off switch was turned for me in both books because I as a reader, wasn’t able to identify with, like or even understand the actions and behaviors of the characters.
I think very often we take things very literally and apply it to ourselves. It’s that simple, and we look no deeper than “If this was me, how would I act? How would I feel? What would I do? What would I need?â€
Nothing beyond that than the story on the surface. And yes, I feel some kinship with Rachel and maybe a teeny bit with Merry.
This is why I think the discussions around rape in Romance can become so heated so very quickly. Especially because I think that the genre is already so focused on emotional relationships, that it’s difficult sometimes not to read our own emotions into the books and the characters. I always appreciate it when a reader says simply, ‘I cannot read/stand this book because I have too emotional a reaction to it.” I’ve got a few of those, too, and sometimes that admission can save a whole lot of misunderstanding, IMO.
After your review of THATH and WF, I believe the major difference is I see the damage and assess the time needed for healing, and don’t see it being there.
You look at the medicine, believe it’ works quickly and see the healed wound.
Just two different views, that’s all.
You look at the medicine, believe it’ works quickly and see the healed wound.
I actually don’t see the healing as quick in either book (The Windflower, especially covers like a year, I think, maybe more?), but obviously, yes, we have different perspectives on how the process takes place and whether or not it’s believable within the frame of the novel.
I want to also explain why I like Linda Howard so much (not her newer stuff, but much of her older stuff was great).
Again, it has to do with the gut reaction I get when I read her books. She writes about the kind of sexuality, desire and passion that I’m familiar with, it rings truer for me than with many or most authors. Raw, cliche’, silly, but it more often real and believable than not. And her men are truly alpha, which, dammit, I really like.
And yeah, she’s written a few duds, but for the most part, I find that most of her books I can read over and over and still enjoy.
She also writes stories and characters as if she lives in my neighborhood. It’s spooky, but like I said, a joke that’s been going around, a turn of a phrase, a recipe, even the manner and dress of the characters that are so familiar and comfortable in my world are in her books.
Maybe it’s the southernness, but I also think it’s about personal make-up and the ability to feel those emotions that I’ve felt and recreate them on a page. That raw lust tied up in admiration and friendship, body winning out over common sense at times. And sex that’s like a drug that stays with you for days, it’s that damn good. Few other authors have done that in their writing.
Now about the oft mocked and maligned “After the Night”—-
The big shlong issue I vaguely remember, but it was just one sentence in a very hot scene in a very good book, to me….
Why do I like this story and not the others?
Faith and Gray have multiple scenes that build on the sexual attraction between them, it’s a gradual burn that LH is a master at creating.
And even before the big ‘scene’ there is a lot of internal thought processes the reader is privy to on Gray’s part that show his growing affection and most of all, admiration and respect for Faith. The more he gets to know her, the more he truly likes her, and you as the reader, like him. The POV changes enough that you know what each is feeling and you know they’re on the same page pretty much at any given time.
Again, you (OK, maybe only I) truly like both characters.
Faith made choices from the very first page. She’s independent, self sufficient, owns her own business and most of all…. isn’t a virgin, she loved her late husband and enjoyed sex with him. So she knows what she’s feeling for Gray—mentally, physically and emotionally. She knows why she’s feeling it and the biggest battle, repeatedly is with herself, not him.
Again, choice and time are happening.
The reader also knows that Gray is fighting his own attraction to her. The reader is inside both characters heads enough to like them both, know them both and understand the arousal and sexuality building between them.
The reader as well as Faith knows that Gray won’t hurt her. The reader knows Faith freely is making choices, even up to ‘the big scene’ where, at least in to me, it’s that her body won out over her mind.
No force as much as he was simply two steps ahead and she caught up….(and yes, he was an ass afterwards)
At no point did I as a reader feel bothered by that scene. In fact, for years, it was the benchmark for the hottest sex scene I’d ever read in a book. Probably still is in my top 5 or so.
Maybe I know and like the primal sexual attraction where the mind is battling the body, and the body (both characters bodies) win.
The first time I read anything negative about LH was here. The first time I read the term “forced seduction” was here. But hey, I stayed, trying to figure out what was a good book by y’alls standards versus mine.
I find it odd that THATH is considered a good read—- where the female has no power. Same with WF. But again, it’s personal tastes and the overall tone of the board. I can see why the book would be good to some, but it was a one time read for me.
And because I’ve toughed it out, I’ve read several very good books since then. A few were disapointing, but even then, I could see why they were good to other folks.
Again, you (OK, maybe only I) truly like both characters.
I’ve never seen any online blog or board where Linda Howard is universally loved, but in any case, I agree with you that After the Night is one of her better books. In fact, both her gothics are among my favorite Howards (although Diamond Bay will likely always be the pinnacle for me). I liked Faith right from the start, and I grew to tolerate Gray. I disliked the first sex scene between the two of them because it caused Faith physical pain (NOT a turn on for me), but I thought the bathroom scene was hysterical. And I think Howard is in her twisty, melodramatic element with those gothics (ATN and Shades of Twilight). BUT, I don’t find them romantic, at least not for me. I love how twisted they are, but for me, Howard’s only real alphas are Grant Sullivan and Kell Sabin. Yes, I love me those two guys. Gray was, to me, a bully, even though I accepted he loved and adored and appreciated Faith.
Now, Dream Man, on the other hand, makes my blood boil, for the very reason you dislike The Windflower and THATH: IMO Marlie was magically cured of her incredible sexual trauma by Dane’s magic wand. And there was one scene in which he threw her down on the bed, flipped her onto her stomach, and “drove into her with battering force” that REALLY bothered me. Yeah, I understand that he’s not the bad guy and Marlie enjoyed it and by that point they had some trust, etc., but that scene still struck me as more insensitive than transformative on *Howard’s* part (not Marlie and Dane’s). If she wanted to subvert the image of Marlie being tortured and raped in that scene, she did the exact opposite for me. Many readers hate that he used her as bait, but for me it’s the way he’s intent on “healing” Marlie with sex. Yes, I understand that he loves her, and yes, I get that he’s “The One,” and yes, I realize that her sense of inertia would need to be interrupted by an external force at some point, but I was not persuaded by the way Howard resolved that various issue.
Little warning—kind of long.
I don’t know if this conversation is still going or not, but I’m wondering if being a fan of Linda Howard is being equated with being anti-feminist.
Wow. The world is soooo not that black and white. I like a lot of her books. I find a lot of the men sexy beyond belief.
But then, I’m getting a view of feminism here that I’m not familiar with. I never, ever equated it with wanting to be better than men or as being someone who doesn’t embrace the differences in men and women. No, to me it’s equality in rights, that sort of thing. Jeez, my husband may be several inches shorter than I am, but he’s three times as strong. That’s nature. I Luuurrve that about him. Just as I like that he’s man enough to be thought-derailed by me taking off my shirt.
But I like that he values my feelings and opinions as completely equal, too. I value that he saw the insult when I wasn’t offered the same amount of money for the same position.
But with this LH discussion, I’m wondering at the separation of fiction vs. reality here.
I’ll give a for instance. A friend of mine was getting married. Her fiance left her in the vehicle with his wallet while he ran into a store. When he came back, he opened the wallet to count his money.
Appalled, I began to do my best to share how worried I was about this relationship and she blinked and said, “But I thought you love Linda Howard heroes.”
Whoa. I thought we’d been talking reality.
It’s fiction. But even in regards to those books, that remark didn’t fly. Yeah, maybe a couple of those heroes might have done such a thing in the beginning of the relationship (Like Gray in ATN), but by the time they’d reached engagement? No. (And yeah, the bathroom scene in ATN was great!)
There are LH books I didn’t love entirely, but one never knows what little thing might turn a person off.
But my point is this friend had missed the ‘point’ entirely.
She was equating alpha male with brutish, bossy and possessive. I see it as strong, authoritative (in the world) and protective. That sooo doesn’t make me any less a feminist. We can want emotional, economic and political equality and still embrace what makes us gender different.
BTW, my chapter had a ladies weekend retreat with Linda Howard. She’s fantastic person who writes fiction, who understands men and shared great stories about her own. But I didn’t get the idea she’d have a problem with feminism. Not in the way I see it anyway. Like her, I believe that we’re all hardwired for certain behaviors—that men and women do think and feel differently about things.
But, the world evolves. Maybe our population is such that we need less of the protective caveman type. Do I think that means he’ll go away? Of course not, but I also believe there’s room for all kinds of men—just as there is for all kinds of women. It’s a great, big beautiful diverse place.
Oh and yeah, Sabin and Grant. Be-still my heart. 😉
Again, I think it’s because I know too much (both personally and professionally yadda yadda yadda) to believe that a sexually abused woman like in THATH could be untraumatized by more sex by a nice man.
Uh, no.
So for me (and again, I thought a lot about this) at least from Rachel’s damage standpoint; The book read the same as if someone got a spiral compound fx of the leg by by getting pushed out of the barn at 8 am, then someone slaps just a bandage on it, and takes them back to the barn at 10 am to jump off with them this time, with the attitude that the ‘together’ aspect of the jump will make it pleasant and it will to make the leg better.
And it does get better! The next day they’re walking just fine! Except the book is historical, not a paranormal.
That’s how believable the story line was for me.
I don’t know if this conversation is still going or not, but I’m wondering if being a fan of Linda Howard is being equated with being anti-feminist.
Well, I don’t think so. I know I was responding to two things: first Najida’s comment that the SB’s was the first place she saw any negative commentary on Howard (so not true for me), and second her almost perfectly inverse reaction from mine to The Windflower and THATH, especially with my reaction to some of Howard’s books precisely that which she found to be a problem with the Gaffney and Curtis books.
I’m not one who finds much wisdom in measuring the political views of women by the Romance authors they enjoy. On the other hand, I *do* think it’s valid to take a look at what kinds of images of women and gender and sexuality that different books seem to offer and to discuss those. Not because they have any direct effect on real life women, but because they are an idealized representation of life and relationships that draw readers in based on a certain emotional authenticity.
But then, I’m getting a view of feminism here that I’m not familiar with. I never, ever equated it with wanting to be better than men or as being someone who doesn’t embrace the differences in men and women. No, to me it’s equality in rights, that sort of thing.
There is, actually, quite a diversity in feminist thought, including vigorous disagreement among feminists, when it comes to various issues, ranging from the value of pornography to the politicization of female sexuality. However, the only thing that I’ve seen here that really disturbs me is a fear among women to call themselves feminists, even if they support equality for women. I know that many people say that labels don’t matter and that sometimes it’s more diplomatic to refrain from announcing that one is a certain “ist,” but I wonder how many people who really believe in Christianity, at least in the US, would make the same argument about announcing themselves a Christian. Of course Christianity is the dominant religion in the US, so there’s a certain identified legitimacy.
But with feminism, I think there’s an authentic anxiety around the word that comes from negative associations. And when moderate, rational, intelligent women are saying they don’t want to call themselves feminists because of how it may appear to some people, that disturbs me, because it—completely inadvertently—can empower the negative images and those who promote them. Which, to me, puts women back into a place where we must define ourselves relative to other standards. Because feminism, IMO, is so broad—or should be—and so inclusive, and so capable of cooperating with every other pro-equality category or stance, that I hate to see it co-opted as something exclusive or negative or whatever.
I used to be one of those women who was afraid to call myself a feminist publicly, even though I had the core beliefs soldered to my consciousness. I made all those rational arguments that people are making here for why that can be advantageous for women, etc. But at some point, I came to feel that all those wonderfully compelling reasons were really a baseline justification for not wanting to be labeled in an unflattering way. Personally, I’d rather reclaim the word feminist than bitch, for example, but that’s not to criticize those who are trying to reclaim the other. It’s simply a reflection of my own feeling that feminism—at its heart—is about no more and no less than the recognition of women as deserving of equitable treatment and fundamental respect in every area of society. It doesn’t, IMO, mean that you can’t also actively promoting class equity, racial equity, equity for gay men, whatever. It shouldn’t, IMO, be seen as exclusive, even if there are *individuals* who use it that way. There are plenty of folks who use Christianity in ways that frustrate many other Christians, as well.
I think the turning point for me was when I started witnessing Muslims refrain from identifying themselves as Muslim for fear of hateful retaliation for the crimes of a relatively minuscule percentage of violent people who identify themselves with Islam. Is the refusal to identify as Muslim helping or hurting the image of Muslims, promoting or assuaging understanding and acceptance of Islam as a perfectly legitimate religious belief? I think as women we need to be vigilant about keeping current with our own rights, not simply the tangible ones, but the intangible ones, as well. Not that I think every woman who feels uncomfortable with the label should use it necessarily, just that it concerns me to think about what a certain culture of fear around the word means for the empowerment of women *as* equals (or in the case of biological differences like the ability to bear children, equivalent treatment with recognition of circumstantial differences).
BOFH Excuse #56:
Electricians made popcorn in the power supply
Others are able to wait up to 36 hours after taking cialis medication tadalafil a sex counselor, and links to sexual health organizations by CIALIS® (tadalafil) … More ED Info and Support.
Cialis – Warnings & Precautions. Cialis – Clinical Pharmacology. Cialis – Overdosage & Contraindications. Cialis – Indications & Dosage. Cialis The top generic cialis the far East. Cialis info cialis news release Sept
Cialis ® is a prescription medication for the treatment of erectile dysfunction. … Cialis Info- Cialis News, information and articles. Cialis official
Deciphers the medication tadalafil (Cialis), a drug used for the treatment of impotence. … Cialis Eases Erectile Dysfunction After Spinal Cord Injury
Get all the latest news about Cialis. Latest FDA news and Information. … the company responsible for developing Cialis, made no bones about sharing this .
Get all the latest news about Cialis
Cialis or Tadalafil Citrate is used as a sexual aid in men
CIALIS, and therefore until further information is available, CIALIS is not recommended for the following groups of patients: …