My Trouble with "Romance"

This tweet appeared in my Twitter feed today:

editrixanica Anica Mrose Rissi Do you repeatedly mention the color of a character's eyes, or oft remind us of a signature hairstyle or defining feature? Well, stop it.

I laughed when I read it, because it reminded me of something I kept thinking while I was reading a book at the beginning of July.

A Good Role Model, in a Way I Didn't Expect

Our family hasn't yet been to see the new Harry Potter movie, believe it or not. We're planning to go tonight, but to settle my curiosity until then, I've been reading a few related articles.

I read one today that was an interview with Emma Watson, the lovely girl who grew up before our eyes as Hermione. The article was talking about how she has continued her education, unlike most of the other young stars of the series. One of the comments on the story pointed out that Miss Watson and Hermione were good role models for girls because they both value education, which the commentor pointed out was a major departure from how most girl main characters are portrayed in children's television (just watch some Disney channel shows if you don't believe it).

I thought that was a good point. But last night as I was watching the Half-Blood Prince on DVD with my daughter (to get ready, you know) I saw another good message Hermione sends - a girl can be friends with a guy without having a romantic thing with him. (I'm talking Harry, not Ron, here.)

One morning not long ago, the DJs on the radio station I listen to on my way to work where trying to decide if men and women can actually be just friends.  It surprised me how many people said no.  I suppose it shouldn't have.  In a lot of books and shows, if there is a man and a woman, they eventually will end up in a romantic relationship.  This is not only true of stories for adult viewers, but also for teens.  One of the shows my kids used to love to watch was Ned's Declassified, about a trio of middle school students, two boys and a girl.  At first Ned and Mose (the girl) were just best friends, but as the kids (and the show) got older, eventually they ended up dating each other.  I could probably think of other examples, but I'm lazy (and it's getting close to time to head to the movie!).

I'll admit I always wanted the same thing to happen with Harry and Hermione.  Alas, JK Rowling had other plans.  And yet, watching the movie last night, I decided it was a good thing for those two characters to not be romantic with each other. They can be close and share their problems and secrets without the baggage that comes with "being in love" with each other. It's nice to see that.  And one of the reviews I saw about the new movie says the friendship between the two characters comes across well.  Even though their relationship is not romantic, they love each other.  Nice. 

Can't wait to see it....

Love at First Sight (or, You Had Me at "Dang It")

Within pages, I fell in love with the character of Jed Reston in Just Ella by Margaret Peterson Haddix. It's sort of ironic, really, since a key theme of the book is how unreliable those "love at first sight" feelings are as the basis of a relationship. But as I was reading the chapter in which Jed is introduced into the story, I had this warm, happy, sort of giddy feeling - I just knew he was a character I would truly love.

That doesn't happen very often. That's not to say I don't love other characters, but usually it's more of a "come to love" type of reaction.  The character will be introduced and then as the story develops, I learn more about his/her personality and grow to be fond, or even (mildly) obsessed, with him/her. This time, though, it was sort of instanteous. How did Haddix manage it? By showing Jed in action. He's careless in his appearance and clumsy, but when that's balanced with his self-deprecating comments, it comes off as charming rather than oafish. His dialogue is a mix of the formal "speak" of the nobility (with which he is obviously uncomfortable) and his sincere, honest observations. His interaction with Ella foreshadows what we will later learn is his honorable character.  In none of this does Haddix give us a narrated description of Jed.  It's a textbook case of why showing works better than telling. We are allowed to draw our own conclusions about him -- and I bet 95 percent of the people who read the book have a reaction similiar to mine.  Well, maybe not the giddy part.

"About the faith--," Jed began.
I began giggling again and calmed myself only to start again. And again. I was a fountain of hilarity, shooting out bursts of laughter every time Jed tried to speak. At last he gave up and laughed too.

It's been a while since a chapter ending left me with a smile the way this one did.

Hey, Katniss, I'll Take Your Leftovers!

I read in one review of The Hunger Games that Collins was just copying the whole threesome romance angle that was a major plot feature of the Twilight series (which I haven't read). Maybe so. But it's still a pretty compelling storyline, anyway.  One of the things that will have to be resolved in the final book is who Katniss will choose, Gale or Peeta (assuming both live and that she will choose someone).  One afternoon while pulling weeds out of the stone walkway in the back yard, I pondered over how this seemingly hopelessly tangled storyline will work itself out.

Gale hasn't had a lot of on-screen time in the two books. However, from the things Katniss thinks about him we know that her relationship with him is one of those really special friendships.  They share common experiences such as the loss of their fathers in an accident, and they've built trust by breaking the law together to hunt and provide for their families.  We know from what Katniss tells us that he sacrifices himself to the coal mines to provide for his little brothers and sister, even though he "is only really alive in the woods."  We know he's clever and has a gift for setting snares.  By the time he made his first siginificant appearance in Catching Fire, I was already primed to like him a lot.  And then when they meet for the first time after the Games are over,

"...suddenly, as I was suggesting I take over the daily snare run, he took my face in his hands and kissed me....Then he let go and said, 'I had to do that. At least once.' And he was gone."

Who can resist that?

But Peeta certainly gives Gale a serious contest as the romantic hero of the series. He is so kind and so unselfish, from the first act of taking a beating from his mother so he could give Katness some bread, to his efforts to protect her in the arena. He's clever in his own way, a way that I can appreciate as a teacher of public relations. He has a sense of honor, and although he doesn't rebel against the Capitol as openly as Gale does by hunting, Peeta understands the injustice and inhumanity of the government's policies and is determined to do what he can to stand up to them.  The night before he and Katniss go into the arena for the first time, Peeta says,

"No, when the time comes, I'm sure I'll kill just like everybody else. I can't go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to...to show the Capitol they don't own me.  That I'm more than just a piece in their Games."

How do you choose????  I have no idea how I would resolve this plot if I were Collins.  I hope she will find some way to let them all win.  I hope it doesn't devolve into one of those tired plots in which Katniss ends up with one of them and then some secondary character is tossed in there for the other. I think I'd rather see one of the guys end up alone -- people do survive broken hearts, you know.

I do have to say one thing about Peeta, though.  He's almost too perfect to be true.  I'm sorry, teen girls, but if you kiss a real guy a bunch of times and then share your bed with him, eventually he's going to want something other than to just hold you all night so you can sleep.  It's very romantic, and I know there are guys out there who have a lot of self-control, but everyone's self-control has limits -- in the real world, anyway.

Settling...In a Specific Case

I just finished Tracy Chevalier's Girl with a Pearl Earring last night, and I couldn't help thinking of the recent "self-help" book for women, Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough by Lori Gottlieb.  Now, I haven't read Gottlieb's book, and from the reviews I've read, I believe I wouldn't necessarily agree with what she argues in the book.  But in the specific case of Griet, I think "settling" was probably a mighty good choice.

(Sorry - there just have to be spoilers in this discussion.)

 In this imaginative account of the backstory for Vermeer's painting, Griet, the girl in the painting, develops a strong attraction to Vermeer.  I think a huge part of the attraction is that he represents a world Griet treasures, yet can't be part of in her actual life. I don't mean that he's of the upper class and (on the surface) wealthy; it's the artist's eye that appeals to her, looking at clouds and seeing ALL the colors that are there instead of just mushing them all together and calling them white.  She appreciates the way he orders the elements that go into the paintings to lead people to look at them in just the right way.  She understands that when he looks at something, he doesn't just see the surface of it, but what the "truth" of it is (maybe I'm exaggerating a little there).

On the other hand, she always seems to notice the blood residue around Pieter's fingernails and the smell of meat that clings to him, even when he's not at the meat stall.  It bothers her that he doesn't pay attention to those details.   Although in the end, she chooses to marry Pieter, I think if circumstances had been different and had allowed for it, she would have chosen Vermeer in a heartbeat. 

That would have been a mistake.

I say that because of respect. As I was reading the final portions of the book, when Vermeer was painting her portrait, I was completely annoyed with him because he had so little respect for Griet.  He didn't care that keeping the fact that he was doing the painting a secret made Griet's life with the other women in the household miserable.  (Actually, that started much earlier, when he ordered her to help him with grinding the paints.)  Because he didn't want to have to put up with the flack he would catch from his wife, he left the entire burden on Griet to bear - not just the burden of the truth, but the burden of what the wife and the other maid feared because they didn't know the truth.  I really disliked him when he gave Griet no choice about the earrings. So what if she had to go through the pain of piercing her ears herself? So what if wearing his wife's earrings would  threaten Griet's economic security and that of her family? Vermeer had no concern other than that he wanted to look at the earrings actually in her ear so he could paint the "truth."  He even made her pierce the other ear - the one that wouldn't even be seen in the painting - and wear both earrings so it would be "true."  And once the painting was finished, Griet felt his fascination with her was finished, as well.  She was really no different from the jewelry box or the blue table rug that were part of the set pieces in other paintings.

Pieter, though, respected Griet enough to let her keep her secrets. Sure, marrying him meant moving into that patriarchal system that marriage has always been, where he would be the dominant party.  Yet, in the specifics of this marriage, I get the sense that Pieter thinks of Griet as his partner in the enterprise. She may be cutting up bloody sides of beef rather than sitting for a painting, but with Pieter, what she wants and what she thinks matter.

So, how does this relate to "settling"?  Some people I know argue that a person should never give up passion.  They think it is most important in a relationship to be "soulmates" who understand each other and who value the same things.  "Settling" for less than that, they say, is to do yourself a grave disservice. Yet I think if Griet had kept trying to maintain the relationship with Vermeer (if she had the option - Catharina probably wasn't going to give her the choice), she would have been miserable throughout her life.  There might have been moments of pleasure - those fleeting times when Vermeer actually seemed to notice and appreciate her -- but they probably would have been few and far between.  By "settling" for Pieter, Griet actually opened up the world for herself.  She became a respected businesswoman with the right to refuse to serve people who were rude to her.  She had her own family and she helped provide for them.  Pieter allowed her the privacy of her past and her thoughts without prying into everything and without having to know the entire "truth" of her - he was satisfied with the part that was useful for life.  Pieter wouldn't have made Griet wear the second earring.

I'm not in favor of settling just for the sake of having someone.  But when the most important factors like basic respect and an attitude of love and equality fall into place, why sweat the small details?  Does the bloodstain around his fingernails really matter THAT much?

This should be required reading....

(Note: This entry will be rife with spoilers!)

When I was a teenager, I ordered a paperback copy of a little novel called I Want to Keep My Baby through the Scholastic book orders. It was about a teen girl who got pregnant and whose teen boyfriend refused to marry her. She decided to keep the baby and raise it on her own. I think the reason I bought it was because I was curious about sex, and reading about it in a book (although I don't remember there being very much, ha ha) was preferable to talking about it with my parents.

Well, that was a long time ago, and the world has changed a lot, but some things haven't changed. Teens are still curious about sex, and they generally don't want to talk to their parents about it. And they don't have to - messages about sex are everywhere in popular culture. Watch a half-hour of music videos, in any genre -- flip through the ads and articles in popular magazines -- read the books at the top of the young adult list -- you'll see plenty about sex, and most of it is much more explicit than anything in I Want to Keep My Baby. However, there's one thing you don't see a lot of, and that's consequences of sex.

That's why I say Ann Turnbull's fine historical novel, Alice in Love and War, should be required reading, at least for teen girls. Alice is one of them, albeit living 300+ years ago. She feels stifled and trapped on the farm owned by her aunt and uncle, who adopted her when her father died. She's 16 years old, old enough to be recognized as a sexual being (including by her uncle, who has recently begun to make advances toward her). She longs for escape and love. Both present themselves in the form of Robin, a handsome, flirting young soldier with the Cavilier army (this is during the English Civil War). Alice falls hard for Robin, and provoked by the fear that he will be leaving soon when the army moves on, she gives her virginity to him in a clandestine meeting in an abandoned shepherd's hut.

Part of Alice knows she shouldn't have done it, but she justifies her decision by convincing herself that Robin loves her - the fact that he wants to make love to her proves that, doesn't it? When the army is ready to move on, she begs Robin to take her with him, and he does. For the next several months, Alice follows the army. She is very lonely, even though she makes friends; she has little time to be with Robin -- except at night, when he always manages to find a place where the two of them can be together. Just before the army is going on leave for winter, Alice discovers she is pregnant. When she tells Robin, he evades her insistence that he must marry her, and when she wakes the next morning, he's gone. He's left her a note and some money, but no mention of marriage or of a way she can contact him.

Long story short, Alice goes through the pain and heartbreak of miscarrying the baby. When Robin does return in the spring, Alice has to seek him out and confront him, at which time he confesses that he is already married and had, in fact, gone home for the birth of his second child with his wife. Alice has made friends among the wives of other soldiers, so she remains with the army. Eventually, however, her friends are killed and she manages to find refuge in a small village nearby. There she meets a Parliamentary soldier who is severely wounded, and she helps nurse him back to health. As she sits by his bed and reads to him and talks to him, she falls in love with him, but she fears a godly man like Jem will never have anything to do with a woman with her history. When Jem returns to the army, they continue a correspondence, and eventually he asks her to marry him. Alice gets a happy ending, after all.

I think there are so many messages of value in this story for young women. Yes, one of them is that sex is a pleasurable thing that draws people together. However, the story also brings home the message that if the situation surrounding the sex is not right, the worry and insecurity and shame outweigh any pleasure. From the first time Alice slept with Robin, she was worried - about losing him, about the perceptions of other people, about becoming pregnant. She constantly has to reassure herself that he loves her, drawing on any little sign she can muster - or manufacture. Her married friends and their intimate knowledge of their husbands (and I mean "intimate" in the sense of knowing something deeply, not just sexually) contrasts sharply with the fact that Alice knows almost nothing about Robin, and she feels that lack. She tells herself that Robin takes care of her, but looking at it from the outside, we can see that he leaves her to fend for herself during the day, reappearing each night to take her somewhere that they can be together - even if that place is shared with a dozen other couples. There's no getting around it - Alice made a mistake, and even when she won't admit it to herself, she knows it.

I'm glad Turnbull redeemed Alice in the end, though, and gave us a picture of a positive courtship. Through the sickbed conversations and their letters, Alice and Jem come to know each other as people long before the relationship becomes a sexual one. Wait, I take that back. Alice feels herself attracted to Jem fairly early in their relationship, and I'm sure the same is true of Jem. But they don't allow that attraction to get out of control and to dominate the relationship. Their sexual attraction to each other is only one facet of their entire, healthy relationship. On their wedding night, Alice "felt not only passionate but also safe and certain in a way she had never felt with Robin."

In my humble opinion, that's the message teens need to get about sex. Parents and teachers and preachers may say it over and over, but I think sometimes a story may be more effective in allowing teens to reach their own conclusions. And that's why I think this book ought to be required reading.

What Makes a Good Romantic Hero?

I finished A Difference of Opinion by Nancy Dane last night. This morning, I woke up thinking about it, particularly about the hero, Allen Matthers. I'm not quite sure what to think about him. On the one hand, he's a very appealing character; on the other, [SPOILER] he's a murderer.

Allen has a lot of the qualities that I find attractive in a romantic lead, without falling into the cliche' of the romance-novel hero. It's clear that Allen is muscular and strong, but there are no descriptions of his "v-shaped back" or his "muscular thighs." He's handsome, with his bright blue eyes and coppery hair. He's intelligent and he's a musician, facts that raise him above his humble mountain roots. He's very good to Nelda, always showing up when she's in desperate circumstances, saving her life on more than one occasion. And he's always the gentleman - even when they are traveling together at the end of the story and camping alone together, he makes no move to push himself on Nelda. I liked the way he was openly confident he and Nelda would be together, even when she was telling herself she hated him for being a traitor.

But....I can't forget that Allen Matthers killed two men over a pocket watch and some gold coins. I suppose you could argue he killed them because they were a threat to his life - one of them had already shot Nelda. But Allen had already disabled one of the men by breaking his arm - why slit his throat as well? The story happens in a very violent time, the American Civil War. There are hints throughout the book that Allen may have killed several other men in the course of his work with the army (he's a "scout," not a soldier, though). I don't know. I may be able eventually to talk myself into believing he HAD to do it, but right now, it just seems to put a stain on his character that is hard to look past. It's like Allen Matthers, along with Joey Bolitho from FJ Warren's Broken Bonds, will always have an asterisk after his name in the "Hall of Fame" of romantic heroes I've encountered in my reading, ha ha.

The Perilous Gard

(I've decided to cut down on my number of blogs in the hopes that I will be more faithful in maintaining only two. This is a post from a blog I had set up to try to get my kids to write reviews - pretty much a failed effort! They love to read, but they don't seem to have inherited their mom's compulsion to write about what they read...)


Finding this book was one of those happy accidents that happen from time to time in my reading adventures. The Perilous Gard by Elizabeth Marie Pope brings together several factors that I enjoy - historical fiction, mythology and mystery, and romance. The story is set in Tudor England, in the last months of Queen Mary's reign. Katherine Sutton, a lady-in-waiting to Princess Elizabeth, is exiled by the queen to a mysterious, isolated castle where she quickly notices that something weird is going on. She is especially intrigued by the handsome and aloof brother (Christopher) of the castle's owner, and her curiosity and infatuation with him (though she would never call it that) soon lead her into a dangerous encounter with the People of the Hill (who are faithful followers of the ancient, pre-Christian religion of the British Isles). She fights to save Christopher from being used as a human sacrifice in a religious ritual, with echoes of the Ballad of Tam Lin.

I liked Kate. When she finally gets the chance to step out of the shadow of her "perfect" sister, she develops into a strong and resourceful young woman who refuses to give up in her efforts to save Christopher. But when her sister re-enters the picture, Kate nearly slips back into the shadows before Christopher saves her, in turn. I liked the way the relationship between Kate and Christopher developed; for most of their "courtship," they can't even see each other and have nothing but talk to sustain them. I actually thought I might be imagining the "romance" angle of the story at first, but no -- the story ended in a satisfying, if rather predictable, way.

My favorite relationship in the book, though, is between Kate and the Lady in the Green (the leader of the Folk). Neither of them trusts the other, and yet they learn to have a degree of respect for each other - at least Kate does, which I think makes her the bigger person.

Teen readers today may be put off by the sort of stiff and old-fashioned writing style. I was, myself, at first. But as I read further into the book, I realized the writing style reflects Kate's personality - matter-of-fact and rational. That was just one more reason to like this book.

Some Favorite Love Scenes

I'm still plugging along in The Big Knives (and I still think the cover with the woman on it is misleading), but I decided in honor of Valentine's Day I would look back at some of my favorite love scenes. I'm sure I'll think of others as soon as this is posted.

#10 - The Rough-Face Girl by Rafe Martin and David Shannon

Then they heard footsteps coming along the path, closer and closer. The entrance flap of the wigwam lifted up, and in stepped the Invisible Being.
And when he saw her sitting there he said, "At last we have been found out." Then, smiling kindly, he added, "And oh, my sister, but she is beautiful."

This is a picture-book retelling of the Cinderella story, but you develop such sympathy for the Rough-Face Girl that the moment when the Invisible Being acknowledges her as the woman he will marry is very satisfying.

#9 - The All-True Travels and Adventures of Lidie Newton by Jane Smiley

He could not believe his eyes at...our good fortune right there, big as life. After I put down the poultice and untied the horse, Thomas grabbed me about the waist and kissed me and spun me around. He kept saying, "I can't tell you how sure I was we'd have to backtrack! I didn't see any future her, I was as low as I've ever been, but now...!"
Well, how were we to know? At any rate, it was a splendid thing to feel my husband's arms and hands press against me and to lean into his chest and to hear his joyful voice in my ear, and to look into his face and have him put his fingers into my hair and take all the pins out, one by one, and then pause to put them carefully in the pocket of his shirt. Then I shook my hair out, and it fell to almost the middle of my skirt, and we went inside the cabin.

This is a marriage of convenience between a abolitionist pioneer in Kansas Territory and a plain "old maid" that grows to be more, though the Lidie's telling of their love is very restrained (which, to me, makes it even more intimate). Unfortunately, the marriage doesn't last long; shortly after this scene, Thomas is murdered.

#8 - Judith of France - Margaret Leighton

Already the figures crowding there were growing smaller. Above them all she could see Baudoin Bras-de-fer sitting his horse like a rock in the midst of a whirlpool, by some miracle keeping order in all the confused and desperate haste.
Across the glittering surface of the water their glances met -- and held. Something caught sharply in Judith's throat. A small, desperate voice - was it her own? - was whispering "No! No! No!" to the lift and fall of the oars that were carryng her away. Inexorably the distance widened, nevertheless, and she raised her hand in a hopeless little gesture of farewell.
She saw surprise in Baudoin's face. Slowly, with his bright, intent gaze still holding hers, he lifted his hand to his helmet in an answering salute.

I didn't say they were all happy scenes.

#7 - These Happy Golden Years - Laura Ingalls Wilder

Laura opened the small package that Almanzo gave her. The white paper unfolded; there was a white box inside. She lifted its lid. There in a nest of soft white cotton lay a gold bar pin. On its flat surface was etched a little house, and before it along the bar lay a tiny lake, and a spray of grasses and leaves.
"Oh, it's beautiful," she breathed. "Thank you!"
"Can't you thank a fellow better than that?" he asked, and then he put his arms around her while Laura kissed him and whispered, "I am glad you came back."

Almanzo, you rascal!!

#6 - The Edge of Time - Loula Grace Erdman

"Well, I must be going. Good-by, Bethany."
He took her in his arms and kissed her, gently, as if he meant to be gone only a little while. Then his arms tightened around her, and he kissed her several times -- roughly, so that she knew that is she said one little word, maybe, or let one tear slip down her face, he might not leave her at all.
She did not say the word, shed the tear.
"Good-by," she said. "Don't worry - I'll get along fine."
She drew back just a little, but enough so that he remembered it was time to go.
He left her there, beside the dugout door. She watched him ride away; she continued to watch him, waving to him each time he turned to look back. And when he had at last disappeared into the vast reaches of the plains, she went back inside. She threw herself down across the bed and cried for a long time. After that she felt better.

This book is not that well-known, but I can see a HUGE influence on my own writing.

#5 - Hannah Fowler - Janice Holt Giles

He thought how it was you learned so much about somebody when you lived with them, things they never even knew themselves, likely, and how it made them so much closer - like a youngun of your own flesh and blood -- sweet, somehow, and kin. Like the way Hannah had of being shy and awkward before folks, sometimes even with him....And for all her bigness and smartness, she liked it best when he was some place handy. She never would say so...but when you got to know her you could tell the difference in the look on her face when she was contented and when she wasn't. She didn't know how her face changed when he came in and told her he had to go off somewhere. Not that she would ever say one word against it. She would get busy and fix him a bait to take...get him ready to go, not even knowing that the shine of her eyes had dulled and a little line between them had puckered. It made him wish he never had to go.

I like this one because it is from the male point of view.

#4 - Ruth 3:7-10

When Boaz had finished eating and drinking and was in good spirits, he went over to lie down at the far end of the grain pile. Ruth approached quietly, uncovered his feet and lay down. In the middle of the night something startled the man, and he turned and discovered a woman lying at his feet.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I am your servant Ruth," she said. "Spread the corner of your garment over me, since you are a kinsman-redeemer."
"The Lord bless you, my daughter," he replied. "This kindness is greater than that which you showed earlier. You have not run after the younger men, whether rich or poor. And now, my daughter, don't be afraid. I will do for you all you ask."

Ruth took quite a risk, but Boaz is just a really good man.

#3 - The Witch of Blackbird Pond - Elizabeth George Speare

"Hold a minute, Captain!" called a voice. A commotion near the door had been scarcely noticed. "There's a fellow here says he has an important witness for the case."
Every voice was suddenly stilled. Almost paralyzed with dread, Kit turned slowly to face a new accuser. On the threshold of the room stood Nat Eaton, slim, straight-shouldered, without a trace of mockery in his level blue eyes.

What could be more romantic than having the man you love show up to save you from being burned as a witch?

#2 - The Perilous Gard - Elizabeth Marie Pope

"You're not talking," said Christopher. "Go on talking."
"What do you want me to talk of?" asked Kate helplessly.
"I don't care," said Christopher. "Whatever you like. Anything. Only talk."
Kate cast wildly around in her mind for the 'anything,' wishing more than ever that it was her father who was sitting there, her father or Master Roger or the Lady Elizabeth or Alicia. Surely that was the least God could have done for him, the very least.
"Christopher," she blurted out, "do you ever think about food?"

I was charmed by the way Christopher and Kate fall in love by talking. They can't see each other at all, so their whole relationship is built on their talking.

#1 - Forged in the Fire - Ann Turnbull

We heard faintly, from a neighboring street, the nightwatchman's call: "Nine o'clock, and all's well!"
I broke free then. I went to the window and stood with my back to Will, looking out at the yard and passageway. Snow lay thick on the ground, and big soft flakes fell steadily against the window and built up on the ledge, cocooning us.
"If I'm to get home..." I began.
He came and stood behind me, put his hands on my arms, kissed the nape of my neck.
"Don't go," he said. "Stay with me, Susanna. Please."

Ok, so this is traditional romantic stuff. I'm still a sucker for it.

Romance, or Love?

(Please indulge me as I talk about my own book.)

It's been a whirlwind of a week in my journey toward being a published author. I had submitted my first three chapters to an agent in September, and on Monday of this week, I finally heard from her - she wanted to read the full manuscript! Naturally, I was quite excited. I got the manuscript to her on Tuesday and settled for some waiting. As it turns out, I didn't have long to wait - I heard from her this morning. She said, "I have decided not to take your manuscript at this time, although I would definitely reconsider it if you decide you would like to address the following concerns...." She then goes on to say that the first 150 pages are "very engaging" and that she "loved" the "initial development of the characters" and the "young love" between those characters. However, she said, once they start on their pioneering journey (this is historical fiction, of course), "all the strong characters, tensions, concerns, and issues...got left behind." She said the relationship between the characters was central to the plot in the first part of the book, but that it "takes a second seat to many of the external events in their lives" once they start traveling.

I've pondered this on and off (well, OK, mostly "on") all day, and I think I understand our differences: she wants romance, and I wrote love.

In the first chapter of the book, the hero and heroine meet and get married the same night through a set of unusual circumstances (that I won't go into here, because this isn't really about my book). It's a marriage in name only, though, and they plan to dissolve it as soon as they get an opportunity. But over the next five chapters, they begin to be "in love" with each other. Not to flatter myself, but I think the reader can sense the sexual tension of those characters being around each other, becoming more and more attracted to each other, drawn together by a desire to protect each other from angry and unfair parents. Finally, they give in to that tension and decide they will stay married. The very next day they leave on their trip. And that's about the time the agent says she lost interest.

Throughout the rest of the book, that sexual tension is not so intense. They are married, after all, and now they can have sex whenever they feel like it. But now their challenge is to learn to love each other, with all the flaws that they sort of didn't notice during that period of infatuation. So they fight sometimes. They have to figure out how to deal with problems in a way that takes into consideration the needs and wants of two people instead of satisfying only themselves. They hurt each other, and they have to face up to that and to decide if they can get past that pain to continue on as husband and wife, or if it's time to give up.

Personally, I find those kinds of struggles interesting. It's part of what I liked so much about Hannah Fowler. But....it's a different kind of thrill than reading about/experiencing infatuation. Now that I think about it, Forged in the Fire (which I loved) seemed to lose some of its drive once Will and Susanna married. The same is true once Baudoin Bras-de-fer spirits Judith of France away from the captivity the father has imposed on her. Heck, even in television shows like Moonlighting or Scarecrow and Mrs. King or Remington Steele (ok, now you know how old I am, ha ha ha!), once the two main characters got together, the thrill of the show was gone, and it didn't last much longer. I haven't read the Twilight series yet, but I read a comment about it the other day that made the point that the writer deliberately maintains that intense sexual tension for three books precisely because she knows it's necessary to keep people interested.

So, I guess I made an error in plotting my story, if I wanted to be commercially successful. Are we as a culture so in love with the idea of being "in love"? Is love only interesting when it is fired by infatuation? Do we turn off when passion has burned down to a warm, steady glow? Does marriage bore us?

The agent told me she would be happy to reconsider my book if I made some changes. She wanted a total re-write of the second half of the book, to change the entire reason I wrote the story in the first place. I'm not going to do it. Maybe it won't be a commercial success. But at least it will be what I want it to be, to explore issues I think matter. I hope somebody else thinks they matter, too.

How Far Am I Willing to Suspend My Disbelief?

The good news is - I finally broke out of my slump! My kids were at a skating party for a friend's birthday, and I was totally unsociable. I read the whole time. Part of that is because I didn't know the other kids' parents, but the main reason is I was just so caught up in the story -- Pirates! by Celia Rees. It was a gripping adventure with a deliciously creepy villain and a honorable, faithful love interest. There was enough history to satisfy the historical fiction nerd in me. But........

As I thought about the story the next day, I saw some places where the author seems to have expected me to just "go with it" and not think too much. Now, I learned in "Introduction to Literature" as a college freshman that a part of engaging a story is being willing to suspend your disbelief. After all, a story is NOT life, and some things have to be manipulated to make it work as a story. But I felt this particular story asked me to give the author a little more liberty than I really should have had to.

(There are probably some spoilers below)

I had no problem suspending reality to "believe" the ruby necklace had some kind of magical link that allowed the Brazilian to track Nancy for more than a year. Actually, I was quite satisfied with the author's explanation for why he bothered to do that when most men would just cut their losses and find some other 16-year-old to marry. Being so creepy, the Brazilian would of course be driven by a desire for revenge. And I really liked the imagery of the necklace as a collar or choke-chain on Nancy. It was the perfect metaphor for what her life with the Brazilian would be like.

However, I found the romance with William unrealistic. I know they grew up together, but I couldn't see how they would have developed a devotion to each other that would lead them to pledge undying romantic love for each other. I think part of my problem with it was that William was only 12 and Nancy was only 10 when his father sent him to sea. I know people matured faster in those days than these, but I don't see children of those ages being that aware of choosing a mate. Yes, Nancy saw William two other times after he had started his career as a sailor, but would that really be enough to build a commitment that would last through the impossible circumstances they are up against? Wouldn't William, especially, just consign Nancy to the realms of memory and go on to marry some other respectable young woman? It all just seemed a little too easy -- William was always faithful. That relationship just didn't get much development.

I'm sure the reason it didn't is because this story wasn't really about Nancy's love for William; it was about Nancy's relationship with Minerva, her mulatto half-sister. And I'm ok with that. It was actually sort of refreshing to have something other than a romantic relationship as the major plot line. But that leads me to another idea that I couldn't quite buy. Minerva is supposed to be younger than Nancy. How much younger is never really specified. But we know that Nancy's father left shortly after she was born to go to his plantation in Jamaica. Even if we assume that he almost immediately started his affair with Minerva's mother, that means Minerva would be at least a year younger than Nancy. That means she's 14 or 15 during the events of the story. The problem I have with this is that Minerva never fails to be poised or brave or to know exactly what needs to be done. Ok, maybe it's because she's been a slave and she had to develop those qualities to survive, and maybe it's because being a Dahomey woman warrior is in her blood -- but it just seemed unrealistic to me.

But the thing that bothered me most was something really small (aren't those always the worst?!!). When Nancy shoots the overseer, she is still wearing the dress she wore at the dinner party at the Brazilian's house. The author makes a point of telling us about the amount of blood and other matter that was scattered around the room after the shot. The slaves go in and dispose of the body and clean everything up so Nancy and Minerva can get away. But then at the climax of the book when the Brazilian has caught up with them -- he has the same dress for her to wear, just like he's recreating the moment more than a year ago. WAIT!!!! Number 1, that dress would have been ruined by blood spray, etc. from the gunshot. Number 2, the slaves would have burned it or something to get rid of any evidence. There's no way that I can believe that the dress would have been in any condition to be used in the Brazilian's little revenge fantasy.

All that said, I still enjoyed the book. It was a great "escape" novel, and it made me think about what life must have been like for slaves and women (completely under the power of men) during that time. (Maybe I'll write about that another time.) And it got me out of the slump -- I've already started on my next book.

Like A Box of Saltine Crackers

I just spent the last month working my way through Broken Bonds: The First Book of the Trevu Trilogy by FJ Warren. And like a box of saltine crackers, this book gave me something to chew on, but not a lot of the "nutrition" and flavor I'd like to get from my reading.

This book is the beginning of one of those sprawling "family" sagas that go through the experiences of several generations. In this case, the family is that of Captain Redvers Trevarthen, a mining magnate in Cornwall at the turn of the nineteenth century. This part of the saga picks up when Redvers' illegitimate son has been dropped on his doorstep. To make things interesting, the baby is mulatto, the result of Redvers' long-standing affair with an independent black woman in the nearby town. Despite the fact the baby was born in adultery, Redvers' wife insists that they keep him. The book then follows the developments of young Paul Trevarthen's life to the point where he becomes the master of Trevu (the family estate). This novel strongly reminds me of some of the "gothic" novels I read while growing up -- there's plenty of hob-nobbing in society, titillating action, illicit unions, forbidden love, and family secrets.

But maybe there's too much! You know you can choke on crackers if you shove too many in your mouth at once. The plot seems to meander along at times, with periods of intense action followed by equally-long description of the less exciting times of Paul's life. There's also a secondary plot concerning a young smuggler that is a little confusing because there's not a clear designation when the story switches from one plotline to the other. Clearly, this story is a setup for the rest of the trilogy in which events will be played out to a dramatic conclusion. I guess I'm wondering if it might have all fit in two books if some of the more mundane plot points had been left out. Maybe I'm becoming a child of the "instant gratification" society, but why should I have to munch through the whole box of dry cereal to get to the prize at the bottom of the box? (sorry for switching my analogy)

I wasn't really that enthralled with the main character, Paul; I thought he was spoiled and whiny. The smuggler, Joey Bolitho, was much more compelling to me. I found myself sort of attracted to him in a perverse way, despite the fact that he kills men with his bare hands. He's got a really interesting psyche, does Joey, but he doesn't get much time on the field in this story. I suppose he'll play a bigger role in the rest of the trilogy (because there are some pretty heavy-handed hints at the end of the story that Joey is more than he seems).

This book is Paul's story, though. I thought there was a missed opportunity to discuss the social consequences of being mulatto in the early 19th century. When Paul is a child, he faces discrimination for being dark-skinned; however, once he comes into young adulthood and is rich and good-looking, suddenly everyone (except the villain) seems to forget about it. I'm not so sure that's realistic. People might have been nice to him to his face, but I bet there would at least be some nasty remarks behind the closed doors of "withdrawing rooms." The same is true of his mother. At the time of Paul's birth, she is shunned by everyone in town (except Redvers' saintly wife). However, when Paul is grown, she comes back into his life as a respected and rich business owner. Everyone in town now treats her like anyone else. That just seems unrealistic to me. Then again, this book is not meaty social commentary; it is a family saga meant for entertainment and snacking.

I have to admit, one thing that made the book seem as dry to me as crackers was the "tell, not show" style in which it was written. Let me give an example. There is a scene where poor Joey is proposing to the woman he loves. Here's how it plays out in the book:

"Sitting quietly at the table with his beloved, he began to relate to her his wish to give up the smuggling, for he knew she detested it so. She made a favorable reply so he took a deep breath and proceeded to tell her that his circumstances were about to undergo a change. Explaining that if he accepted Barney's offer he would have to move away, he delicately informed her that he understood full well that she would not wish to leave her family during her father's sickness, but he would be quite prepared to wait for her until such time as it would be appropriate for her to do so."

No, no, no! I don't want you to tell me about that moment! I want to be able to experience it! I want to hear the words Joey says, to see his posture and the look on his face, to feel the earnestness with which he's making his plea. This is a very dramatic moment in the subplot -- play it up!

In all fairness to the author, there is another scene where Joey's beloved is once again turning down his marriage proposal, and it does a much better job of showing the action and allowing us to feel sympathy for both characters.

So, anyway, the box of crackers is finally all gone, and I'm ready to move on to something with a little more flavor and staying power.