One of the primary claims leveled by literary critics against the romance novel genre, is that it's formulaic: chop up a few tropes you prefer, warm over either a slow burn or blistering heat at your fancy, sprinkle in a couple social conventions and haphazardly constructed hurdles, and you'll find yourself cozied up with a new steamy read in no time, right?
The problem isn't necessarily the claim itself, because claims of literary merit or lack thereof don't really bother the one of the top performing literary genres on market... especially one you can reliably find standing right alongside the other top performing genre, Mystery/Thriller, on the mass market paperback ledges of grocery store checkout stands across the country, a genre that is leveled its fair share of similar criticisms.
However, the issue of this condemnation does arise when the pursuit of a happy ending is portrayed of some form of social conversion, or emotional bondage. When the idea of romance novel heroines (or heroes) achieving happiness is equated with oppression, overly aggressive patriarchal values, or gratuitous feminine submission, then it becomes a very clear and direct problem, indeed.
If these sorts of grandiose doomsday comparisons sound crazy to you, then please don't pin their origin on me. I'd like to welcome you to the absolute-dealing world of romance novel literary criticism, where past critics of the genre have leveled such claims as these:
In her 1970 work of literary criticism, The Female Eunuch, Germaine Greer criticizes that “the traits invented for the hero in romance novels have been invented by women cherishing the chains of their bondage.” According to this line of thinking, all romance heroes are not only homogeneous, but they are united in their objective: to conform the reader to accepting subjugation.
In Leslie W. Rabine's 1985 piece, "Reading the Romantic Heroine: Text, History, Ideology," she comments specifically on a particularly publishing house with a standardized format rising to popularity in the genre at the time, claiming that, “Harlequins work to recuperate women’s subversive fantasies into structures of patriarchal power.” In this way, romance novels utilize tantalizing scenes of deviant behavior, as a reaffirmation of specifically male dominance and traditionalist social organization.
Janice A. Radway's 1991 essay "Reading the Romance: History, Patriarchy, and Popular Literature", touches on the typical happy ending of the romance novel specifically, stating that it “reaffirms its founding culture’s belief that women are valuable not for their unique personal qualities, but for their biological sameness and their ability to perform that essential role of maintaining and reconstituting others.” If this argument is correct, all romance plots must result in a directly heterosexual breeding relationship, one that ideally ends in offspring.
However, each of those sharp-worded dismissals of the formula, the stereotyping, and the "Happily Ever After" (HEAs) was written a minimum of two decades ago! They are firm in their convictions of epilogues long past, but do their words still ring true now? What can formulaic plot progressions and HEAs look like in the 21 Century?
Well... it doesn't get much more formulaic than a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure novel, now does it? Enter Kitty Curan and Larissa Zageris' 2018 "Interactive Romance Novel," My Lady's Choosing.
Relying on typified plot progressions, easily recognizable character tropes that don't require additional backstory, familiar dialogue, all building to any number of acceptable HEAs... it sounds like a good place to get a base reading on what kinds of plot building blocks and generic endings might be typical of the genre these days.
And to be clear, this book can tell you a lot about happy endings: it's got over twenty.
To briefly explain the plot: this novelty novel is set in the conventions of any popular period romance, and follows you, a shy and cowed lady's companion with a heart of gold, attempting to escape the dreary life of one among the ton of London, by way of the following presented main romantic avenues:
- Benedict, a kind of Pride and Prejudice Darcy stand-in commonly found wandering the bookshelves of the historical romance section... a verbal sparring partner whom your character can easily match, parry for thrust (wink wink).
- Angus, a sweet-meaning Scot, whose peers in the genre have been gaining popularity in the historical romance section since the popularity of the Outlander TV show. (It's about the kilts, isn't it?)
- Craven, a brooding Gothic hero who comes complete with all of the Bronte accessories. like an open waistcoat, untamed locks, a crumbling castle, and a neglected ward. Will you be the one to soothe his tortured soul?
Each of the three is a model specimen, cut from a specific literary figure, one that is easily recognizable to those in the genre. Not only are they expected formats for a hero to take, but they have their own particular brand of paratextual street cred. Who you might not necessarily expect, is the fourth romantic figure...
If Benedict, Angus, and Craven are models based off of heroes long known, Evangeline shines a greater light on the kinds of novels growing popular in the genre today, as LGBT-centric storylines begin to really take a foothold. But so what does one different kind of hero(ine) have to do with anything? That doesn't mean that the stories don't end with generic, patriarchal, reproductive-oriented endings that reassert the dominance of traditional romance novel structures.
- Evangeline, a brazen, blonde beauty with a penchant for Egyptian hieroglyphics, is a much more modern kind of lady. Also, kind of like if both Brendan Frasier and Rachel Weisz's characters in the Mummy movies were combined.
If Benedict, Angus, and Craven are models based off of heroes long known, Evangeline shines a greater light on the kinds of novels growing popular in the genre today, as LGBT-centric storylines begin to really take a foothold. But so what does one different kind of hero(ine) have to do with anything? That doesn't mean that the stories don't end with generic, patriarchal, reproductive-oriented endings that reassert the dominance of traditional romance novel structures.
Do all 20 patterns of the happy endings you can achieve in this novel subscribe to the kinds of claims being leveled at the genre? Do any?
In short, no. In long, here's a list:
- The hero you expect, might not be the one who wins you over in the end. While the plot lines presented four neat pathways to pursue, each contained at least two or three alternative options, including side characters, villains, and more. No more standardized alpha male format, nameless six-pack-bedecked torsos upon which to fit swappable handsome heads: varying widely across the spectrum, your choices beyond the main characters included a meek librarian, villainous phantom, or a brooding mercenary, among many others. In fact, the most deliberately erotic and explicitly happy ending, was with a well-meaning, eager-to-please and moderately socially-mobile nerd!
- The heroine doesn't have to end up married (let alone with kids). I was actually surprised at a number of happy endings that resulted in the main character making the choice to fly solo. Often these were structured around the existence of a male counterpart - choosing to con around America with a man you neither love or plan to marry, or becoming a spy against the Bonapartists for the English military with an ex as your partner - but an emphasis was placed on remaining an independent woman, if not in proximity, then in mind. And naturally, one of the final endings you could achieve, resulted in your character marrying extremely old and disgustingly rich... only to have your husband collapse from a heart attack shortly after the union, leaving you a very, very wealthy widow.
- In another surprise move, there were examples where the heroine did not even end the book as the main character anymore. This is a hell of a way to circumvent claims of standardized endings, which would typically assume the the character of most importance at the start of the book, would surely finish the same way. However, there were several endings - usually after pursuing a romance with the side characters - where the reader was deliberately noted as having given up the position of the main, taking the backseat of a self-referenced fictional series or two to help support one of the other flashy characters in the story line, effectively becoming a background character in someone else's story. There might be the argument to this point, that this actually bolsters claims of subjugation, but I offer the counterpoint: in doing so, you aren't just given the freedom of choice... you can also have the freedom to remove yourself from the expected narrative entirely.
- Morality standards - especially those in line with patriarchal values - don't exactly apply to all happy endings. In fact, there are multiple options where the main character is given the opportunity to take a not-exactly-morally-sound route out: not necessarily just in choosing to romance a villain instead, but also running off with your a band of pirates, or deciding to invest in opening a brothel, using one of your new bookish acquaintances as your first employee (Not kidding).
- And finally, just because something follows a trope-heavy path, doesn't necessarily mean that that's restricted to one solitary outcome, which according to critics, would require marriage to the primary hero, and constraint of the female main character to traditional feminine roles. But the prospect of a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure novel betrays that very assumption, by not only veering away from one expected answer, but instead, throwing as many at you as possible! For instance, my favorite set of endings for a main story line revolved around our Gothic hero: as a result of various choices, you can end up exorcising a ghost, defeating an evil butler, turning into a werewolf, and marrying a vampire, or, alternatively, the village postman. It also gives you the out of fleeing the estate entirely, and starting up again on one of the other romantic paths. How's that for formula plotting?
In total, My Lady's Choosing doesn't just refute antiquated claims of the lesser nature of romance novels, due to their supposed pre-determined progression and anti-feminist endings, but it dismantles them entirely, leading the reader to question the myriad of ways a story can end while still considering it to have best serves the heroine. The format of the Choose-Your-Own-Adventure romance, as it turns out, only encourages something we already knew. As romance novelist Suzanne Simmons Guntrum posed in "Happily Ever After: The Ending As Beginning": "So why read a novel when we already know how it is going to end? Because it is the process, not the conclusion, that we are reading for."
My Lady's Choosing relies on tropes and stereotypical conventions of the genre - the mysterious revelation of parenthood, finding a hidden diary, espionage and handsome rogues, etc - in order to keep the pacing of the novel going, despite its frequent starts and stops. Very tongue-in-cheek, self-referential, and more than a little silly on the meta-text, the language is very familiar to romance novel enthusiasts, with plenty of euphemisms to keep readers laughing, perhaps in an attempt to excuse the difficulties in following along seamlessly. Flipping between pages may grow frustrating, but at least its easier to follow when characters are easily identifiable; for instance, one plot line plays host to a villain by the name of Caddington... shortened to Cad.
On one hand, I was impressed with the levels of detail and difference between each of the contrasting story lines, while on the other hand, the limited amount of space they have to develop these plots into anything further or more substantial leaves them a little unfulfilling. In some ways, these elements of the novel - obvious and bold cardboard characters, fast-paced and humorous plots with lack of meaningful development, deliberately filthy humor - line up not necessarily to the real practice of romance novels, but instead, what's expected of them. It's not the genuine article, but the knock-off everyone's so quick to judge... which for a novelty novel like this one, makes for a good laugh, and an entertaining afternoon.
When's the last time you picked up a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure novel? How about a good romance? Let me know, in the comments below!
No comments:
Post a Comment