I've never understood why so many romance readers seem to think this is a “rule”. Just who laid down these rules and what is the punishment for breaking them? *rolls eyes* I'd never even heard of this “rule” until I joined RWA, and it's clearly not a “rule” for any other genre of fiction.

@Kalen I agree. I’m a beta reader for an up and coming author whose critique partners always give her shit for head-hopping POV switches. As a reader, they don’t bother me at all. In fact, I love knowing what’s going on in the characters’ heads at all times. I guess it really comes down to “to each their own”.

Jane, thanks for reminding me how much I loved Lindsey’s old western novels. It’s been ages since I’ve read Savage Thunder. *I’ll never forget the horse riding scene* I’m going to have to dig it out of my garage for a welcome reread.

The heroine of Lord of Scoundresl SHOT the hero – on PURPOSE. How groundbreaking is that :-)

Heyer did it first.

Okay this is a tangent and probably doesn't belong in this thread, but you have hit on a subject I can't resist, Kalen.

headhoping is what Rita Mae Brown does, where one sentence you're a dog, the next you're the raven in the tree, the next you're the horse, and then you're the rider, or what Georgette Heyer does where you get bits of secondary characters tossed in liberally in tiny one-offs).

That's not headhopping, it's omniscient voice narration. I love reading it when it's done well, and hate reading it when it's done poorly.

Nope. I’m well aware of what omniscient is, and I’ll grant you that is what Heyer does (though many people I know do think of this as head hoping), but it’s not what Brown does. Brown switches POV like a mad thing.

headhoping is what Rita Mae Brown does, where one sentence you're a dog, the next you're the raven in the tree, the next you're the horse, and then you're the rider, or what Georgette Heyer does where you get bits of secondary characters tossed in liberally in tiny one-offs).

That’s not headhopping, it’s omniscient voice narration. I love reading it when it’s done well, and hate reading it when it’s done poorly.

Examples of omniscient done well:

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”

–Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

“Riding up the winding road of Saint Agnes Cemetery in the back of the rattling old truck, Francis Phelan became aware that the dead, even more the than the living, settled down in neighborhoods. The truck was suddenly surrounded by fields of monuments and cenotaphs of kindred design and striking size, all guarding the privileged dead. But the truck moved on and the limits of mere privilege became visible, for here now came the acres of truly prestigious death: illustrious men and women, captains of life without their diamonds, furs, carriages, and limousines, but buried in pomp and glory, vaulted in great tombs built like heavenly safe deposit boxes, or parts of the Acropolis. And ah yes, here too, inevitably, came the flowing masses, row upon row of them under simple headstones and simpler crosses. Here was the neighborhood of the Phelans.

Francis's mother twitched nervously in her grave as the truck carried him nearer to her; and Francis's father lit his pipe, smiled at his wife's discomfort, and looked out from his own bit of sod to catch a glimpse of how much his son had changed since the train accident.”

–William Kennedy, Ironweed

These are great examples of omniscient narration IMO because both the voice (elaborate and rich) and the information given signals to the reader that we are not in a character’s POV for the bulk of the sentences in the second example, or any of them in the first example. We have a God-like perspective, an all knowing narrator who can tell us knowledgeably what kind of times these are, or that the ghosts are twitching in their graves.

Now here’s an example of omniscient POV done poorly (what some people call headhopping):

Bill put down his fork. Dave was such an idiot sometimes. He couldn’t believe that his brother had put celery in his omelet.

“You put celery in my omelet! How could you do that!”

What was wrong with celery? It tasted good.

“I thought you liked it,” Dave said.

“You didn’t think so, you just wanted some in yours.”

His brother could be such a jerk.

I wrote that one myself, to illustrate my point. When I read the above example, I am irritated because I’m jarred by the first POV switch and not sure who is thinking the last thought. But frankly, even if it was cleared up with “Dave thought” and “Bill thought,” or even in more elegant ways, I would still be annoyed, because it switches viewpoints so quickly in such a short segment that I feel like a ping pong ball when I try to read it.

I like to settle into a character’s thoughts and feelings when I read, to sort of mentally become that character. And if there’s no richness of voice or God-like knowledge on the part of the narrator, I assume I’m reading close, limited third person rather than distant, omniscient third person. So I settle in to do lose myself in the character’s thoughts and feelings, and then, bam, I’m yanked into a different character. The more that happens, the less I can sink into a character and enjoy myself. If it happens frequently enough, I will not relax into my reading experience at all.

Now, that doesn’t mean I think an author of close, limited third person should never change POvs within a scene. There are exceptions for every rule. But IMO authors should recognize that there’s a cost to that, in terms of some readers’ involvement in a character’s emotions, and think about whether the payoff is worth it.

If it happens on a regular basis, though, then it’s omniscient voice, and personally, I usually want to be compensated with a strong voice and with insights that the characters don’t have access to (i.e. “But Mary didn’t know that John was making his way home to her.”). Because those are the strengths of omniscient narration IMO, and if an author is going to make it impossible for me to really sink into any one character, then I want the narrator’s voice to be a kind of character.

The Windflower by Laura London. If it weren’t for the opium-laced meat scene in The Gypsy Heiress, The Bad Baron’s Daughter would be there, too (mostly because, if it hadn’t been for that terrible title, I might have missed the rest of the London Books). But The Gypsy Heiress has that lovely scene with the dripping meat — so no BBD.

The Broad Highway and The High Adventure by Jeffery Farnol (a mostly contemporary of Heyer’s who wrote a lot of regencies) Love his chapter Titles: “Being a Description of Nothing In Particular” or “Which, Being the Last (Chapter) is Mercifully Short”

Good reading,
Patty

I wouldn’t use the word now — since it is 1 Old Fashioned and 2. most of the Native Americans I know are proud if they are half Native American. But it doesn’t trigger my racial epithet meter when someone else uses it
.

I tend to pick favorite reads for lists, not the ‘best books’. Some books can be brilliantly written and if I hate the characters, it wasn’t a good book for me. I think ‘Best’ lists should reflect what the person doing. If I’m being asked to act as an impartial judge, well, that’s a different story. Then it’s not MY best, it’s a ‘critical best’.

I like to read Best lists that are personal favorites of others. When I see books that like, I give the other books on the list a try in the hopes we have the same tastes.

Where I veer off is what craft is important when keeping a reader in the story, which is a personal standard as to what’s “well written”. I’ve yet to find an unanimous agreement that defines it.

*And what you are describing is not headhopping.*

My natural writing style is to switch POV at the midpoint of almost every scene that involves the hero and heroine. I don’t do it consciously, it’s just how my brain works. The film that runs in my head as I write switches POV and I follow along (most romance writers seem to do this in their love scenes). *shrug* I’ve been labeled a “headhoper” by a few reviewers, but what I am is a serial POV switcher. I don’t ping pong back and forth (as Brown does).

I think so long as the reader isn’t confused, this is simply a “rule” to ignore.

I think it came about because it was done poorly and every character got a say that really didn’t matter to the overall story. As you stated in your comment, there I can agree.

I also call it rule, but all the rules are really craft tips on how to make a strong story and/or scenes. It becomes a problem and becomes sloppy (IMHO) when it’s used to show a thought, a reaction that could have easily been shown in the original character’s POV.

And when I say nitpick I’m referring to instances where I’m in the heroine’s POV for a page, maybe longer, then the hero’s maybe for a paragraph or two, and then back to heroine’s. I can find examples in every book she’s written. I’m a big fan and I’ve read almost every single novel she’s written. Loved them.

The basic point it comes down to for me is that the scene (the reaction) viewed from the original POV character would have more impact if it didn’t jolt me out of the story. This even applies to when I know what character I’m viewing the story from (Nora makes it plain what character you’re in, which is probably why I’m still a fan. If you are going to excel at something frowned upon, you might as well be the best.) Overall, it’s very much like saying, “Wait a minute. Okay. No, stop. Okay let’s begin again here.” It gets frustrating after a while.

Funny, I recently read The Grand Sophy. Everyone had the lime light at one time or another, which circles me back to my point–would it have been a better story? IMHO, yes.

but I can nitpick this novel to death with the basic rule of don't headhop.

I’ve never understood why so many romance readers seem to think this is a “rule”. Just who laid down these rules and what is the punishment for breaking them? *rolls eyes* I'd never even heard of this “rule” until I joined RWA, and it's clearly not a “rule” for any other genre of fiction.

If you can't tell whose POV you're in, that's just sloppy writing, but if the hop is clear, I just don't get why this is a “problem”. I also frequently see POV-shifting mistakenly called headhoping (in a POV shift, the POV clearly changed from one character to another and stays with the new character for a good long while; headhoping is what Rita Mae Brown does, where one sentence you're a dog, the next you're the raven in the tree, the next you're the horse, and then you're the rider, or what Georgette Heyer does where you get bits of secondary characters tossed in liberally in tiny one-offs).

Same can be said for Smoke in Mirrors by Jayne Ann Krentz. This novel can be used to teach how to make characters come alive. How to use description to tell more than setting and the visual attributes of a character. I also love the story and it’s an annual re-read or I read it to get me out of a reading funk.

Gods in Alabama by Joshilyn Jackson…’Nuff said.

And there are some that would never be called well written, but they have a quality that makes them my favorite. Carnal Innocence by Nora Roberts is a fabulous story, but I can nitpick this novel to death with the basic rule of don’t headhop. Sometimes it does throw me out of the story, but Tucker Longstreet…my heart be still. Jude Deveraux’s Summerhouse, I don’t know what rule it doesn’t break, and I do marvel at all the backstory (even before they are transport back in time, making the past the ‘now’ story). But, really, I’ve lost count on how many times I’ve read it.

The only book I would consider groundbreaking is Faking It, but more for the timing of when I read it. I had started to seriously read romance novels. I had gobbled up Harlequins back to back. I had read hundreds of contemporary single titles. And then I read Faking It and the first love scene that was not flowers and roses, in fact it was disastrous. She didn’t climax in a flowery glow? OMG, how scandalous in a romance novel!

Crazy thing though it’s not my favorite Crusie, but I’d put it up against many romance novels for putting a spin on a genre trope and then making it work. It would knock the novel out.

For me a groundbreaker was Welcome to Temptation. That book was soooo funny and sooooo hot. It wasn’t my first Crusie (that was Crazy for You, which I enjoyed but didn’t love). Won’t say any more for fear of spoilers, but reading it was like being transported back to one of those really great wise-cracking 30s/40s movies with Rosalind Russell or Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant. Delicious.

My favourite romances of all time continue to be Georgette Heyer’s Frederica and Sylvester, and for well-written, I’d go for Eva Ibbotson, probably Magic Flutes, Company of Swans or The Morning Gift and Jude Morgan’s An Accomplished Woman.

If I’m sick or in need of mental TLC, those are my retreat books.

http://www.thatreadingwritingthing.com/

Over the years, I've learned to examine books a bit more clinically but I respond to books from my gut.

Me, too. One of the unfortunate side effects of learning my craft as a writer is that I’ve become so aware of all those technical details you mention that I find it really difficult these days to just get pulled into a story. I’m too busy noticing what the writer is doing with his or her words to be affected by them, and I miss the days when I could simply curl up with a book and lose all sense of what was happening around me.

So whenever I do find a book that can give me that feeling, whether it’s a book I’ve read before or one that’s new to me, I treasure it.

A book that can give me a story that lives while I’m reading it; lives in my memory a long, long time afterwards, and draws me in so completely I’m not even noticing whether it’s layered, well-written, or groundbreaking — that is a book I’ll consider a favourite, and add to my own “best of” list.