On earning, love, that's actually a literary tradition that goes back centuries, too. :o) Not that I believe that, either, but it IS something that's been written about for thousands of years. Romance is rife with such traditions. (I did my independent study paper on the Romantic period in 19th century literature and later used it for an RWR piece about how SEP's IT HAD TO BE YOU fulfilled all the requirements of that literary movement. *G*)

I have to admit that the last time I had any serious one-on-ones with the Romantics was while I was studying for my PhD exams many moons ago, so I’m definitely rusty when it comes to them. If you’re talking about English Romanticism, though, I honestly can’t recall romantic love as reward. Individual rights and freedoms, anxiety over the Industrial Revolution, the clash of faith and science, the role of the (male) poet in society, yes. But I don’t really associate romantic love as a reward until the sentimental/domestic literature of the mid (Victorian) 19th century, at which point things fluctuate between satiric representations of love and morality plays (embodied well, IMO, by the wonderful Shamela by Fielding and its play on Richardson’s bleak Pamela). The infusion of morality into the equation, the idea that virtue = virginity, is exactly the kind of thing I object to in contemporary genre Romance. That, for example, if a woman sleeps with too many men, she’s a slut (and therefore the villainess), or if a woman doesn’t want children she’s a shrew (and therefore the villainess), or if a woman wants a career and a relationship she’s selfish (one of the long-standing complaints that some readers make about Eve Dallas, btw).

Where I do see the kind of parallel you’re talking about, though, is in classical Comedy, where you often have a pair of lover-protagonists who overcome a series of obstacles and antagonists, with a marriage at the end. But within their historical and literary context, I think those tales are less about love and more about societal stability, fecundity, and political allegory. Not that marriage hasn’t been traditionally associated with social stability, and I think you can really see that in Romance, especially where the couple have to battle some sort of degeneracy in the older generation, but again, I see these as more on the level of society than as “virtue rewarded” for the individual lovers. Or rather that the type of virtue rewarded I often flinch at in Romance is tied more directly to the moralizing in sentimental fiction from the 19th century (The Yellow Wallpaper, say) — the idea that there are certain virtuous characteristics of women and that if she wants love she must reach certain standards of morality (i.e. virginity, desire to have children, etc.). That’s where things get sticky for me. But then I have fundamental problems with associating certain societal standards of morality with personal worth to begin with. Even while I accept that certain behaviors must be rewarded and deterred within the context of a social contract and civil society, I tend to see those as more practical than romantic. Like in fairy tales — isn’t Disney basically the innovator of the “someday my prince will come” fantasy? I always view traditional fairy tales as more focused on social norming (e.g. don’t wander off by yourselves, children, lest you get eaten by a wolf or baked in an oven).

I’m curious about your project, though, especially since I find SEP one of the most interesting combinations of conservative and progressive values in her writing. Feel free to explain your project in more detail; it sounds very interesting from the hint you provided here. Especially since I’m so rusty on literary Romanticism.

Simply by virtue of being drawn to write Romance, we're going to be the type of people who believe in the redeeming value of love, and we're going to be the type to believe that love IS an integral part of happiness.

I think the kind of distinction some of us are trying to draw here can only be communicated through an extensive analysis of many Romance novels. But taking Jane’s mention of the Showalter excerpts, there’s an example of a character who seems to me to define her worth based on whether a man loves her. In other words, her sense of happiness is connected directly to the *external approval* of a man. I’ve read books with heroines end up with guys who in RL would be labeled batterers, but who are happy to be completely overwhelmed by a so-called “alpha” male and who portray the image of a woman basically “battered by love.” That makes me very uncomfortable.

I don’t think anyone who enjoys Romance rejects the power of love or the happiness that the couple enjoys in their life together. But I think there’s a tendency in the genre to suggest that characters (especially women) can ONLY be happy if they’re loved by a romantic partner — that their lives are only worthwhile if they’re in a relationship. I think love can offer incredible things to people, including a sense of unconditional support for personal growth. But I am uncomfortable with the message that one can be *made happy* by love, which IMO is not only illusory, but it’s not very healthy. Who wants to be in a relationship with someone who only feels worthy if you love them? IMO that cheats both partners.

I don't think it's even conscious on our part, really. Speaking for myself, when I have a book bumping around in my brain, there's never a point where I think, “What do I want the message of this book to be?� Or “What do I envision as the theme?� There are just characters and situations in my head that need to be written about, and they're all a result of whatever is happening in my life, or what has happened before, or what I think/feel/believe/hope for.

I don’t care how intentional of a writer someone is, no one can control everything that appears in their writing, so I agree with you that many things are communicated unconsciously into fiction. And many things are interpreted a certain way because of a unique mix of reader and book; readers bring our own stuff to books, and books present things beyond their authors’ intention. That’s why I pay little attention to what authors intended when I read.

That said, though, I really do wish there was more mindfulness in genre Romance — more reflection on the part of authors on both the craft level and the content level. I think we’d see fewer stereotypes and more innovation. And just to be clear, I’m NOT talking about paying attention to what readers want. IMO the genre is already TOO focused on meeting reader expectations (to its detriment, btw). I’m talking about authors being attentive to what they want to express in their books, to ensuring coherence of character, plot, and theme, and to thinking about tropes they want to use and how they’re being used. Because let me tell you: as a reader, I can enjoy a book with a message that IMO is reactionary if the book is thoughtful and consistent than I can enjoy a book that accords more directly with my own values but that is inconsistent, incoherent, and sloppily crafted. And quite honestly, I tend to get the most irritated by the “message” of a book when it seems sort of “mindlessly” presented (i.e. not really thought out by the author). Yes I know I can’t always tell as a reader whether a book is thought out by its author, but in general, I do think thoughtful books are recognizable as such. Judith Ivory’s Black Silk, for example, reads like an incredibly thoughtful book. So does Patricia Gaffney’s new book Mad Dash. I have no idea what the actual writing process is like for either author, but their work *feels* consciously crafted to me. And I like that; I trust that as a reader, and I’m more likely to go on a journey when I feel like I’ve been invited into a fictional world that has been created with respect and care. Sort of like how I want a chef in my favorite restaurants to put a dish together with consideration of the individual ingredients, a sense of how they will marry in the dish, and the conscious attention to the overall effect of the culinary experience.

On earning, love, that's actually a literary tradition that goes back centuries, too. :o) Not that I believe that, either, but it IS something that's been written about for thousands of years. Romance is rife with such traditions. (I did my independent study paper on the Romantic period in 19th century literature and later used it for an RWR piece about how SEP’s IT HAD TO BE YOU fulfilled all the requirements of that literary movement. *G*)

RfP, you make many good points, and I honestly can't disagree with any of them. But it occurs to me as I read over all of these replies again that, really, none of us is being fair to the Romance genre. Every book is different, and every writer is different, and every writer is going to bring to her books the things that are important to her. Simply by virtue of being drawn to write Romance, we're going to be the type of people who believe in the redeeming value of love, and we're going to be the type to believe that love IS an integral part of happiness. If we didn't believe that, we wouldn't be writing Romance. We wouldn't be reading it, either, quite frankly. If one doesn't believe that love is an essential part of happiness, then why is one reading Romance novels in the first place? Seems to me that if we didn't believe on some level that love contributes to our basic happiness, we'd roll our eyes at Romance novels and say, “Yeah, right,� and go to the mainstream fiction section of the store where there isn't any happiness. (Smiling here. Invoking sardonic tone of voice. *G*)

And the things we writers experience in our lives are inevitably going to find their way into our books. When I and my sisters-in-law were all trying to get pregnant and having babies, I wrote about women who were trying to get pregnant or having babies. Having lost my father to Alzheimer's, I found myself writing about that in the book I just completed. Having a husband who was a stay-at-home dad for several years, I suddenly had a hero who was a stay-at-home dad. Writers who have gone through divorce or the death of a spouse may write about those things. And it's that diversity and richness of experiences and beliefs and opinions that makes the genre so much broader than any of the other genres out there.

I don't think it's even conscious on our part, really. Speaking for myself, when I have a book bumping around in my brain, there's never a point where I think, “What do I want the message of this book to be?� Or “What do I envision as the theme?� There are just characters and situations in my head that need to be written about, and they're all a result of whatever is happening in my life, or what has happened before, or what I think/feel/believe/hope for.

At the risk of sounding arrogant (which I think anyone who presumes to write something they think others will be interested in reading is *G*), when a writer sits down to write that first book, she isn't thinking of her readers. She's thinking of herself. Of the story she wants to read that hasn't been written yet. I think that stays true even after the first book. When you get right down to it, we writers aren't writing for our readers. We're writing for ourselves. And we're hoping others will like what we like for ourselves and join us on the ride.

So to look to the genre for a universality in the area of messages or themes is kind of impossible. Because there are hundreds of people writing in this genre, and they're all different, so they're all bringing something different to their books. And those differences are going to be defined by what each person feels and thinks and believes and experiences. So why not just read the books and authors you love and simply enjoy the pleasure of the story?

Sorry for the sudden rambling discourse. Blame it on the English degree. :o) And I seem to have contradicted myself again by saying we shouldn't look for a common thread in Romance, but that somehow, we're all united by a belief that love and happiness have something in common.

I think perhaps I need more coffee. :o)

I agree with you that women can distinguish between fiction and reality. At the same time, I think there’s a strongly norming element to the “happily ever after”s in most romance. (And norming can be confining in a genre in which many readers strongly enjoy identifying with the protagonists.)

There’s the “ever” part of the happily ever after, in which couples marry after knowing each other for a very short time. Is immediate marriage really necessary to signal that their love is true?

Why does it have to be forever? It can be true even if it’s not permanent. Particularly for young protagonists, I’d prefer to see them together but not promising forever. I’m satisfied with a happy ending to this phase of their lives; no need to show me more. In fact I was taught in school not to end a story with “The End” or an epilogue, because both of those stop the reader’s imagination from engaging with the possibilities. I still write like that :)

Then there’s the miracle baby, and the epilogue with kids. Are kids so necessary to happiness and true love that they must be added to the story against all odds (infertility, etc)? In my reading, many romances portray children as key to love and happiness; some chick lit and the occasional romance portrays parenting as a strain; but it’s rare to find a couple who either accept or choose childlessness. (Crusie’s Bet Me being the obvious exception.)

If I may twist your phrase, I think romance’s tendency to suggest “that true love [as shown in these social rituals] is the route to happiness” is worth more discussion. Because in some ways romance is very conservative about relationships and mores; the genre is full of these normative portrayals of how “true love = happiness” plays out in society. I think that’s a major reason for the growth of chick lit–there are readers who want less definite, less “marry ASAP, pop out the kids” style plots. (I’m somewhere between, BTW.)

I'm happy the women's movement is sending out different messages to my nieces' generation than it did to mine.

I definitely think we’re coming along in effecting our own equality and freedom, but I gotta say, I appreciate the courage of people like Andrea Dworkin and Betty Friedan and Kate Millett and Gloria Steinem and other feminist activists for their willingness to rock the boat and put themselves on the line for some of the basic equities women possess today. I certainly don’t have what it takes to fight that hard for change.

As for the Cinderella pic I used with the blog, I chose it because it was iconic, not necessarily because I buy into the Cinderella thing. (Especially since my take on the Cinderella thing isn't that Cinderella sat around waiting passively to be rescued. It was that she was ultimately rewarded with true love because she remained strong during a life of adversity.)

LOL, so I should refrain from starting on my pet peeve about how Romance promotes the idea that people have to *earn* love?!

FWIW, I don’t think any discussion takes place too late; it just gives us more to think about for other conversations about the genre.

As for the drink, Maker’s Mark, neat, for me, please.

But I don't know what to add in further response that I haven't already said. All I intended to convey in my original blog was that I don't think women have to be alone to be complete, and that I'm happy the women's movement is sending out different messages to my nieces' generation than it did to mine. If readers took something else away from that, they took something else away from it. As for the Cinderella pic I used with the blog, I chose it because it was iconic, not necessarily because I buy into the Cinderella thing. (Especially since my take on the Cinderella thing isn't that Cinderella sat around waiting passively to be rescued. It was that she was ultimately rewarded with true love because she remained strong during a life of adversity.)

In any event, I appreciate the opportunity to step into the conversation even if, I fear, my entry may have come too late. It was a lovely discussion. I just honestly don't know what else I can add to it at this point.

Liz

And I still don't understand how what I wrote could have been taken as me promoting the idea that the only way that a woman can find happiness is to fall in love with a man.

For me, at least, it started with what I thought was a misrepresentation of the “message” of 70s feminism and resultant media messages (I’m younger than you, but I was alive during the late 70s, although not old enough to watch R rated films — so I watched them well after they were released). Honestly, it felt to me like you were setting up this incredibly absolutist equation on one side — that to be complete a woman had to be alone — only to reject it for love. So yeah, because the first equation seemed to me an exaggeration, I read the implication of its opposite as equally absolute (i.e. falling in love = happiness). Then there’s the mention of “better” and “clearer” messages, combined with the picture of Cinderella and the following paragraph:

Thankfully, I think most of us saw through that message and fell in love anyway. I mean, it's not like falling in love or not falling in love is a choice, right? We meet someone who loves and respects us as we are, someone who shares our hopes and dreams and desires, someone who makes our life better just by being in it, and what? We're supposed to NOT love them? Especially when loving them and being loved in return is a big part of what makes us complete? [emphasis mine]

Taken together, I definitely read your column as a celebration of alone = lonely and together = happy. I can appreciate that you’re saying you intended to make a more nuanced argument (and I really appreciate you commenting here and trying to explain better what you were saying — even if I’m still a little confused about that, lol) and if I take the last paragraph of your piece in isolation, I can see its foundation there. And I do know the sense of unfairness in holding a blog post to the same standards of, say, a full-blown essay. In the limitations of time and space, it’s tough to be perfectly clear and consistent (god knows I don’t reach that can’t maintain that level of cohesiveness when I blog!).

I also realize you never stated the exact words of my conclusory interpretation, but to me that’s the difference between what you say on a superficial level and what you mean as interpreted by any particular reader. Just like you took the superficial texts of two films and interpreted them in a *what they meant* way with your own statements about the messages you received from them. I’m not arguing with what you say was your intent; I’m merely saying that I interpreted the *what you meant* part as different from what you are saying you were saying or intended to say or whatever. And FWIW, I never thought Jane was quoting you when she made that one statement to which you objected, even though I agree that it’s much clearer with the notation after it. I can’t account for other people’s ways of reading, but I knew at the time that she was using the quotes to mirror the formulation of your own words and explain her interpretation of what you were saying (aka what your column meant to her). In those instances I will generally use the single quotation (‘) to indicate that I’m not quoting verbatim.

Nevertheless, I do think it's kind of unrealistic to point to a genre whose purpose is to celebrate two people falling in love and question why falling in love is such a huge part of the happiness quotient.

Really? My first reaction to this statement was “huh?,” but given the translation problems we’ve had, I’m not sure where this is coming from. On one level, I guess, I feel there’s a sort of tension in what you’re saying between, on the one hand, wanting to recognize the importance of independence and equality for women, but on the other, wanting to celebrate a fairy tale message of love = eternal happiness, with some slippage as to whether you’re talking about the fantasy realm or reality. Kind of like, ‘yeah, I agree that women should be able to choose their path to personal happiness, but love is still the answer’ (and I’m not quoting you, merely inferring from your comments).

Anyway, as to the content of the statement, I’ll go back to what I said earlier in the comments, which is that for me, the Romance I find the most compelling is that which doesn’t hold love up as the universal emotional band-aid or the personal savior, but rather as an emotional bond that helps create an environment of mutual support and respect in which a person feels safe to effect their own growth and personal happiness. That love is part of the journey toward that sense of individual completion, but that simply being married or having someone love you isn’t the end all, be all. And that especially for women it isn’t the thing that gives them an identity (aka ‘he loves me so I must be okay’). My favorite Romances are those like To Have and To Hold, where Sebastian and Rachel save themselves, but offer a profound understanding and acceptance to one another wherein that process becomes easier and more worth undertaking. Of course Romance is a celebration of great love, but as we know from all sorts of popular media messages, like the TV dating/marriage shows you referenced in your Squawk post, love can be offered up in the strangest and even most twisted of ways (I keep thinking of Joyce Carol Oates’s story “Where are you going, Where have you been?” — based, incidentally, on a Bob Dylan song). One of the things that has always puzzled me about Romance is how central the social and cultural images of women are to the genre but how little we really seem to seriously discuss them. Or that when we do discuss them we tend to degenerate into a debate about whether books affect readers, etc.

If we were to all sit down around a cup of coffee or a well-mixed martini, I suspect we’d find a whole lot more common ground on these issues that we seem to have in the artificial environment of electronic communications. Because we all seem to be on the same page about the fact that media and our culture mirror and offer images and attitudes about gender roles, sexuality, and other aspects of our social and political identities. Where we may differ, though, is in how we each interpret some of those messages, and how our own interpretations then shape our general perspective. And I know that when you endeavor to blog about a viewpoint, it is very difficult to be wholly clear and consistent in such a short space of time, so again, I appreciate your attempts to clarify some of your points here. It may be that we simply have to agree on the idea that women should always be given authentic agency to choose, and beyond that, we may have different opinions on what constitutes the “best” choice.

I appreciate your adding a proviso to the part of your blog where you quoted me as saying something I didn't, but I wish you hadn't quoted me incorrectly to begin with, since this discussion seems to have run its course and many who participated probably won't see the correction. As for the unfair picture, it wasn't the one sentence that made me think that–it was, as you said, numerous references to what was, essentially, an opinion piece on my part, and the repeated suggestion that *I* was the one putting forth a choice to today's women that I actually said I thought was the choice given to me as an adolescent.

As for the “true love is the only route to happinessâ€? comment I made, I admit that that was a poor choice of words (or, at least, word, singular–â€?onlyâ€? shouldn't be in there at all), one I picked up from reading the ensuing discussion (I think). Anyway, I don't actually think “true love is the only route to happiness,â€? and I really don't think that many of today's romance novels promote that idea, either. I certainly hope my books don't convey that sentiment. (I don't think they do.) I should have given more thought and care to that comment before making it, and I apologize for the way I contradicted myself there. (Nevertheless, I do think it's kind of unrealistic to point to a genre whose purpose is to celebrate two people falling in love and question why falling in love is such a huge part of the happiness quotient.)

However, in your statement that I said: “our choices were: A) Fall in love and be unhappy, or B) Remain alone and be happy.â€?  and “Why couldn't we fall in love and be happy? Nope, sorry. Not one of the choices, according to the world where I grew up,â€? I did indeed say that. But I prefaced it in my original blog with the question (and I quote *G*): “Where did this come from, this idea that in order to be complete, we women had to be alone? That by falling in love and making a commitment to another human being, we were somehow diminishing ourselves?â€?, something that makes the A) and B) choice comment a part of the postulation.

Wow, did that paragraph make sense? Probably not. What I mean is that I feel there's an implication in your blog that says my blog promoted the A) and B) choice above when, actually, my blog was questioning why that seemed to be our choice when I was young. In the same way that you interpreted what I said in my blog, I interpreted what you said in yours. I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree on content. :o)

As for my lack of popularity at DA, it isn't only references made by you that have indicated I'm not particularly esteemed here. There have been comments from readers of the blog as well that have indicated that. (Like many authors, I regularly Google myself to see what's being said about me on the Web. We especially love that Blog search feature Google now gives us. *G*) And please don't take that as whining. I don't like everyone in publishing and every book that arrives in stores, so I don't expect everyone to like me and mine. I do, however, expect–or at least hope for–an accurate depiction of me and my books when discussed, so that people can decide for themselves. In this instance, in my opinion, I don't think the depiction is accurate.

Liz

The quoted portion wasn’t meant to be a quotation of yours, but a summary of what I felt your thesis to be. It’s an editing error and I’ll certainly add a proviso in the article as that one sentence. However, I don’t see how one statement in the entirety of the column, when I started the article with three quoted paragraphs and linked to your Squawk Radio piece could be “failing to paint a fair picture of you.”

I also don’t know why you presume that you are “not the most popular author here” as I think I’ve only mentioned you twice in the year and a half the blog has been in existence.

I don’t necessarily believe that romance novels are intended to set the mores of the day or to provide guidance to young woman. Instead, I was exploring an idea that might explain why so few romance heroines held any long term significance for me. I had remembered your comment because it did resonate with me as something that might be an explanation as to why so many romances are constructed with the “true love is the only route to happiness” (your statement in the comments) theme, a theme that I think is tired and not really representative of contemporary relationships.

When I read Showalter’s book, I was struck anew by this idea. I was horrified to read about this character, so clearly mentally ill who, in the course of trying to find mental health, determined to do it so that she could find true happiness in the arms of a good man. Particularly when her mental illness was brought about by the infidelity of a man in the first place.

You did state that “our choices were: A) Fall in love and be unhappy, or B) Remain alone and be happy.â€? and “Why couldn't we fall in love and be happy? Nope, sorry. Not one of the choices, according to the world where I grew up.”

So the construct that I interpreted that you present is that you fall in love and be happy or you are alone and unhappy. “Thankfully, I think most of us saw through that message and fell in love anyway.”

In your comments, you go on to state:

As for Romance, the literary genre, suggesting that true love is the only route to happiness, um, that's a cornerstone of Romance, the literary genre. Of course romance novels are going to promote the idea . . .

It seems to me that you are making the argument here, in the comments, as to what I argued against in the first place. If “true love is the only route to happiness” then if you have no love, you have no happiness. (my emphasis added).

Thanks for the thoughtful reply. I do love the fact that my blog was able to generate such a lively, intelligent discussion again, even eight months after it was originally posted. But I also still feel it was at the expense of misrepresenting what I said in it.

I reread my original blog before posting yesterday, and I reread it again just now. And I still don't understand how what I wrote could have been taken as me promoting the idea that the only way that a woman can find happiness is to fall in love with a man. All I said was that I resented the notion presented to me as an adolescent that the only way a woman can find happiness is to NOT fall in love with a man.

I totally don't think anyone disagreeing with me is a sign of disrespect, and I, too, love intelligent debate. If I had indeed said what Jane is saying I said, and she disagreed with me, I never would have stepped in here. Hell, people have disagreed with my Squawk Radio blogs all over the ‘Net, and I've never jumped into the discussion, for the very reason that I respect their right to disagree with me.

That's not what I took issue with here. What I took issue with is best represented by following statement that Jane made: “Instead the choice that Bevarly presents is ‘alone and miserable or together and happy.'â€? Jane even put that last part in quotes, as if it were something she were quoting me as saying, which is why I asked for a citation, because I never said it. Or, if I did, it certainly was taken out of context. All my blog said was that *I* thought my generation received certain messages from early feminism, and that I disagreed with them. I never went on to say that people have to be in love to be happy, but that's what Jane's blog was implying that I said.

If people want to disagree with me about the state of Feminism in the 70s or the state of the Romance genre or the message of “An Unmarried Woman� (or the color of the sky, for that matter), I have absolutely no problem with it. But if people want to attribute feelings and beliefs and opinions to me that I simply do not have, then I have a problem. I said in a newspaper interview a decade ago that I like to think my characters are perfectly happy in their everyday lives before love enters into it, but that falling in love completes that happiness. (And again, it's the heroine AND the hero who always come to this conclusion.) My characters are never miserable without love.

You do make a good point about my invoking the messages from pop culture references and then my invoking the reality/fantasy charge against romance readers. Perhaps that wasn't fair on my part. I did, however, say in my original blog that I and most women of my generation rejected the messages we received, and that I hope contemporary women will, too, which is something that romance readers also do when they read by staying grounded in reality.

You close with this paragraph: “Thinking about choice, though, it seems to me that if choice is what's primarily important, then *shouldn't* our fantasies make room for that, too? Shouldn't our idealized images of love provide for the empowerment of heroines to make autonomous choices, to have agency to find happiness in more than one place? I suppose it depends on what your particular fantasy is, but isn't that one good reason to talk about all this to begin with?�

I could not agree with you more. And I like to think that my books promote those very ideas. It isn't a disagreement with what I said that bothers me about Jane's blog. It's the fact that I never said what's in debate in the first place.

Liz

Look, I know I'm not the most popular author here at Dear Author, but I'd appreciate it if you guys would at least paint a fair picture of me.

I haven’t read any of your books, Ms. Bevarly, so I have no opinion of you one way or the other as an author. But I’m glad you weighed in, because I’ve always been curious about that particular column you wrote. Because I had a very similar reaction to Jane’s. I have a very different opinion of the state of Feminism in the 70s than you do, and I have a very different opinion of Romance. For example, you made the following statement in that column:

Movies like “An Unmarried Woman� and “My Brilliant Career� (both of which I loved) told us in no uncertain terms that we had to make a choice: Either fall in love and remain personally unfulfilled forever, or live a solitary life and find complete personal satisfaction.

Just to take one of those films, “An Unmarried Woman,” I didn’t take that message away from it at all. Rather, the message I got from that film was that Clayburgh’s character had to find herself as an *I* before she became part of another *we* — rather than jump back into a relationship in which she went back to all her old patterns and behaviors. In fact, I thought that film was so bold in the way it presented the idea that a woman *could be* happy outside marriage — that happiness was a choice that one undertook consciously and conscientiously. Not all the single women in that movie were happy, but Clayburgh’s character decides that *at that moment in her life — just out of a marriage* that she needed to have a measure of independence. Because her measure of happiness had always been that of a man’s — and that, IMO, is what she is trying to change. And I can absolutely see her character in a very happy relationship somewhere down the line.

Of course this is all a matter of interpretation, which it seems to me is the point of this discussion. You made some statements — some very strong opinions — that several of us disagree with. I don’t see that at all as a sign of disrespect. As strong women, I would think we would be able to disagree strongly, too. I’m not sure where you perceive the unfair representation, but I certainly don’t intend any disrespect in my disagreement with your opinions. I just don’t find your views persuasive *for me*. I felt, as Jane did, that you were setting up a dichotomy as false as the one you were criticizing, regardless of whether you were talking about “then” or “now” — as the second half of your column was clearly concerned with the “now”:

I hope society today is sending out clearer, better, messages to its young women, but sometimes I have to wonder. There is so much TV devoted to women who are willing to compete for marriage to a complete stranger.

The way I read that, you were clearly interested in the “messages” of mass culture representations like reality television and, of course, films. Jane applied her interpretation of your comments to some examples she’s seen and is uncomfortable with in Romance. I don’t actually think she attributed to you the argument as it relates to Romance. But you did:

As for Romance, the literary genre, suggesting that true love is the only route to happiness, um, that's a cornerstone of Romance, the literary genre. Of course romance novels are going to promote the idea that people (both our heroines AND our heroes) won't be completely happy unless they find true love.

I know you go on to qualify that statement with this:

To suggest that women are going to get the idea from romance novels that the only way they're going to be happy is to be in a romantic relationship is like saying women who read romance novels are going to stay in an abusive relationship because they think they can change their partner. It's that “our readers can't distinguish fantasy from reality� thing that drives me absolutely nuts.

Okay. I see that on the one hand you are trying to say the women should be able to have it all, and that the way you viewed the Feminism of the 70s presented a certain message to *you* — I understand that. But where I think there’s some tension, and where I see the same kind of false dichotomy that Jane observed is in the idea that you can, on the one hand, assert that women aren’t getting certain messages from Romance, but they are from movies and TV. Or that Romance as a genre is offering the message that only through love can someone be happy, but you feel it is a misrepresentation to say that Jane attributed such a sentiment to you. I’m not trying to be facetious here, really I’m not. I’m simply a bit confused at your clarification, because to me it seems simply to dig in to the exact argument that you don’t want to be characterized as articulating.

I don’t know if I can explain what I mean succinctly, but I’ll go back to the idea that if you are concerned with “messages” via the media, why does Romance get opted out of that? Now, I couldn’t agree with you more that the idea that women cannot distinguish fantasy from reality is horribly insulting. I hate that, too. But in the same way that you read a certain subtext from “An Unmarried Woman” or “My Brilliant Career,” why can’t any of us be reading certain subtexts in Romance? After all, this is a genre that represents women, is primarily concerned with the emotional lives of women, and is largely written by and for women. It absolutely has elements of fantasy, but it’s not ideologically neutral, and I think that’s what we are talking about here — and what you were talking about with your cinematic examples. And in the same way that we might not all agree about the messages those films you cited were sending, clearly there will be disagreement about the interpretation of certain messages we see in genre Romance. I disagree with Jane frequently, which IMO is fun, because at least we’re *talking* about the genre, not in confusing fantasy with reality, and not in resisting ideological brainwashing, but in looking more closely at a genre that takes as its subject the emotional happiness and well-being of women and men.

And FWIW, I have a very different view of the “cornerstone” message of genre Romance. While I certainly agree with you that many Romances seem to imply that women will only be happy once they find true love, many, IMO, do not offer that message. I’ll never forget the end of Rangoon (and Avon book, BTW), for example; were Ram and Lysistrata happier in love? I’m not so sure. Love bound them, and it complicated them, and it changed them, and it incited their passion, but I had my questions about the happiness each character experienced because of that love.

Thinking about choice, though, it seems to me that if choice is what’s primarily important, then *shouldn’t* our fantasies make room for that, too? Shouldn’t our idealized images of love provide for the empowerment of heroines to make autonomous choices, to have agency to find happiness in more than one place? I suppose it depends on what your particular fantasy is, but isn’t that one good reason to talk about all this to begin with?

I take the most exception to this paragraph: “Bevarly says that the message of feminism is “our choices were: A) Fall in love and be unhappy, or B) Remain alone and be happy.� Instead the choice that Bevarly presents is “alone and miserable or together and happy.� Bevarly offers the same limited choice, simply the obverse. Both opinions are both limiting. Bevarly presents the exact same fallacy. Falling in love does not automatically equal happiness just as much as being alone does not equal independence. Why can't Romance be about true love without that love being the only route to happiness?�

First part of the paragraph first. I didn't say what you're saying I said AT ALL, as indicated by my use of the past tense in my statement, not the present tense. I said it WAS the Feminism of MY time (the 70s) that gave MY generation that choice. Could you please cite where *I* said our choices are “alone and miserable or together and happyâ€?? ‘Cause I sure as hell don't know where I said that. As for Romance, the literary genre, suggesting that true love is the only route to happiness, um, that's a cornerstone of Romance, the literary genre. Of course romance novels are going to promote the idea that people (both our heroines AND our heroes) won't be completely happy unless they find true love. The redeeming value of love, and equating love with happiness, has been a literary tradition for centuries. To suggest that women are going to get the idea from romance novels that the only way they're going to be happy is to be in a romantic relationship is like saying women who read romance novels are going to stay in an abusive relationship because they think they can change their partner. It's that “our readers can't distinguish fantasy from realityâ€? thing that drives me absolutely nuts.

Look, I know I'm not the most popular author here at Dear Author, but I'd appreciate it if you guys would at least paint a fair picture of me. (The Avon Inspirational comment a while back, for example, was totally unfounded. If I were launching an Inspirational line, it would've been pretty fucking uninspiring, considering the fact that I'm an Atheist.) At no time did I say *I* think the ONLY way for a woman to be happy is to be in love with a man. To imply in your blog that that's my opinion is completely unfair. In the future, when you write about me (and I DO appreciate you keeping my name out there–and no, that wasn't sarcastic), could you at least double-check with me first to make sure what you're going to write is right? I’d appreciate that, too.

Liz, whose husband, btw, IS a preschool teacher.

“Second, her perspective groom had to be of sound and benevolent character. Although a generous settlement and good pin money were essential to the welfare of her family, Louisa was not so completely altruistic as not to think of herself. Being a sharp and observant girl, she was quite doubtful of a woman's power to fundamentally change a man, once his initial ardor had cooled. Therefore, for the felicity of the remainder of her life, she planned to avoid a husband who needed strenuous reforms.”

I wrote that story almost seven years ago. Even back then I firmly doubted the so-called “healing” power of love. Love cannot heal or change you. Love should hopefully make you see that you need to heal and change, and then you should hopefully undertake that journey yourself, the old-fashioned way.

That says it very well.

I think it was Gwen that said that this is too deep of analysis about love. It isn't an analysis about love, but rather a look at the motifs that authors are portraying in their work. I.e., I haven't bought a Bevarly book since she wrote what she did and I don't think I can bring myself to buy another Showalter because the motifs that they seem to bring to their writing is that of a victimized woman made happy through love. The disturbing idea that the mother, who was made clinically crazy by her love for a man, would want to “heal� to be lovable by a man again, is one that I don't care to read again.

But, Jane, what I’m not sure I understand is why this becomes an indictment against romances as a whole instead of simply a matter of personal choice to avoid that author again? The later I could understand because I’ve done it myself many times in the past. An author’s voice and choices in developing the romantic relationship simply didn’t work for me.

And it’s not that I don’t agree with you about the concept at least with regards to real life but we are talking about fiction here. No, that’s not a cop-out. It’s a restatement of the fact that sometimes author’s voices and reader’s tastes do mesh in very odd ways that can’t be explained or described. There have times when I’ve run across situations and characters in romances that I’ve hated with a passion and as a result vowed never to read certain authors again. For the most part I’ve stuck to those vows with regards to the authors.

The situations, though, are strickier.

I guess it’s because it a lot more difficult for an author to win back a reader’s trust once they’ve lost it and that has to do with a certain comfort factor as much as anything else. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. But our perspectives with regards to situations do change and different authors can present the same basic situation in varying lights. Suddenly the same motivations and emotions seem completely different. Suddenly what made no sense before, makes sense. Suddenly we buy what we might not have bought before.

Actions that I swore I’d never want to read again, I’m suddenly absorbed in reading. I won’t go so far as to say always liking but definitely reading. And feeling the emotions from. Understanding the emotions from. Identifying with the emotions.

Is it false or real? I don’t know but I do know this, when I vow not to read an author because I don’t like the direction they take certain books I’m not passing judgement on their personal morality. I’m saying that my personal comfort level with that book and their writing style doesn’t mess. How they interpret those characters and their resulting actions are part of that style. That is something that is going to be consistent in a lot of their books. It is a choice that we as readers do have to make. Conciously.

At the Edge feels strangely dated. Remember all the 1980s red-cover Silhouette romances with these themes?
…

The isolated, powerless heroine is sometimes (even now) taken to such extremes that it seems to set up female dependence and long-suffering as the basis for a relationship. I think Jane on DearAuthor is right that the isolated heroine emphasizes a strange dichotomy of “Alone and Miserable or Together and Happy”. Fortunately, in At the Edge London puts her characters in isolation but doesn’t follow up with the rest of the trope…

But maybe it’s a genre distinction…I go back and forth. Everything is supposed to pale in comparison to the romance in a romance novel of course. So maybe what I’m responding to in the male-driven mystery field is the fact that since romance is not supposed to be the main focus, I don’t have to feel like the author is suggesting it’s the big band-aid to misery. For a female sleuth, solving the crime is the big band-aid.

She talks about how few of the romances she’s read have memorable heroines and posits that perhaps it’s because of this notion of love equaling completeness/happiness. I really wish there were more romances that espoused the view of what many of you here say: love should be another fulfilling element in an already full life. Too many romance heroines are depicted as broken and in need of fixing by love. I want to read books featuring happy (or at least satisfied) women who are taking care of their own business and loving themselves before a man sweeps into the picture.

I also think if there were more of these kinds of stories, the folks who poo poo the sweeping gestures and larger than life characters (read: men) would find the genre as a whole to be more realistic.

Perhaps I prefer heroines written by men because they don’t struggle with this riduculously pervasive idea that feminism is bad that women still have (i.e. “Oh of course I believe in equal pay, but I wouldn’t say I was a feminist!) Male authors, because of their inherent viewpoint of not having to consider this choice (since culturally men are expected to be happy either single or in a relationship), are free to create their female characters without this hangup.

I do think that the romance genre focuses too much on the development of the male character and not enough on the female character but to say that women aren’t asking the right questions of their characters and that men are is too broad a generalization not to mention a tad misogynistic.

I think it was Gwen that said that this is too deep of analysis about love. It isn’t an analysis about love, but rather a look at the motifs that authors are portraying in their work. I.e., I haven’t bought a Bevarly book since she wrote what she did and I don’t think I can bring myself to buy another Showalter because the motifs that they seem to bring to their writing is that of a victimized woman made happy through love. The disturbing idea that the mother, who was made clinically crazy by her love for a man, would want to “heal” to be lovable by a man again, is one that I don’t care to read again.