I've been on-off pondering this post for a week or so, thinking about the character arc of romance heroines as compared to heroes. But despite incubating this for some time, I'll be speaking very much in generalities. Five minutes here on the bus, five minutes there walking down the road doesn't give rise to detailed evidence-based analysis.
So here's the nub of it: a very common (the most common?) romance hero journey is redemption. Not so for the heroine. Redemption just isn't what happens to most heroines. The nearest equivalent, I think, is something related, but different. It's about transformation, but not redemptive transformation. It's more about realisation of latent potential.
A few examples:
- heroines who abandon or overcome a disability of some sort through the agency of the hero (e.g. Sweet Everlasting in which the hero inspires the heroine to break her self-imposed mutism)
- heroines whose repressed sensuality is given expression through the agency of the hero (too many of examples to mention...)
- heroines who come into special powers through the direct or indirect agency of the hero (e.g. where the hero transforms the heroine into a paranormal being or teaches her a particular power)
This is obvious, isn't it? I'm stating the bleedin' obvious and someone's going to point out that this is chapter one in that Big Book of Romance Theory that I've not read yet. Either that or demonstrate in two devastating sentences that I'm completely wrong.
But assuming there's something in this, why should this be? Why should the transformative power of love as expressed in romance novels (generally) be directed at 'switching off' something in heroes but at 'switching on' something in heroines?
Posts
17 comments:
Ooh. I am thinking so hard, smoke is beginning to come out of my ears.
You are so smart.
The heroine also often renounces less pleasant things, as in letting go of the wastrel brother, or caring for the demanding parent, or similar...I don't recall that happening as much with the hero in the course of the romance.
All hail poorly analysed and short blog posts!
Why should the transformative power of love as expressed in romance novels (generally) be directed at 'switching off' something in heroes but at 'switching on' something in heroines?
Because it fits in with "enculturated sexualities and gender ideologies"? That's what Kyra and I were arguing in our JPRS essay.
In romances with an alpha hero, the underlying model seems to be that men have lots of raw power, which needs to be domesticated/focussed in the right way by a woman. The woman, on the other hand, generally lacks sexual experience, wealth, influence and she gains them through marriage with the hero.
To whom do I turn when I'm thinking about redemption? Would that be Balogh? In The Temporary Wife a man's life is redeemed (the late duke) and his son is reconciled with his family ... does the wife change that much? It's tricky.
But in Slightly Tempted there's a lot of redemption needed. A young earl is sent into exile (correction: he's a viscount at the time) through a cruel trumped up charge and then seeks his revenge on the young daughter of the family that harmed him. Eventually there is forgiveness all round but it takes a while.
There are few characters in a Balogh book that cannot be redeemed: maybe Lionel? But women redeemed through the magic of sexorating ... that's not a trope she seems to work a lot ... LoL
The fecund principle, like Mother Earth, has no need of redemption. All she need do is find--and save--the proper Fisher King, followed by the epilogue of marriage and children.
dick
In the romance novels I read, I find that heroes and heroines tend to do bad things for one of two reasons. The first is that they're desperate for something and feel that they need to do something morally questionable in order to get it. I've seen this for both genders. The second is that it's easy and fun for them to behave badly, because they have money and connections and whatnot. This is usually accompanied by ennui when it stops being fun, as well as self-loathing, often rooted in some childhood trauma. I've seen plenty of this for heroes, but only once for a heroine. I think this is because heroes tend to have more wealth and status than heroines, as well as more freedom to engage in risque behavior without facing social consequences. The second type of misbehavior is more common in redemption stories, probably because it's less fun to reform somebody who isn't that into being bad, but felt compelled to do it by circumstances. I think it all goes back to the power imbalance.
It's kind of crazy what a Balogh character has to do in order not to get his or her own novel. Lionel damaged at least five people's lives seriously, so maybe that's the standard. Three ruined reputations, one destroyed marriage, one illegitimate baby, one six-year-long stretch of being afraid to love, two permanent disabilities, and you are OUT! And it was so weird that nobody mentioned him in the books after Lord Carew's Bride, too. I kind of wanted somebody to say, "Hey, remember that sociopathic earl who wreaked havoc with our lives and played us like chess pieces? That was ridiculous."
I still can't believe Freddie Sullivan and Lady Helena Stapleton got their own books, though. Especially Freddie.
Vic J - thankee - all hail indeed!
Laura - I think your essay should definitely be in the Big Book of R Romance Theory
Janet - No Man's Mistress?
dick - I will now Google 'the Fisher King'
Maddie - *snorts* Which is Freddie's book? Also yes, I think it is, though, as Laura said, a very gendered lens.
Tumperkin, "No Man's Mistress" ... she certainly needed to feel redeemed ...
but I have a quibble with questioning Freddy as a hero. He was such a weak and ineffectual villain: Julia certainly wasn't too afraid of him. During his time with Clara he may have done some wonderful things (like making sure that she got better ... got the medical treatment she needed) but he was redeemed by admitting his powerlessness over his demons. And Clara loved him realistically and unconditionally. You can't really know Freddy though until you see him with Clara in the 3rd book, Tempting Harriet. Freddy is one transformed guy!
"Dancing with Clara" didn't work for me, but Freddie's villainous actions in the previous book weren't actually the problem. I didn't like the end because I felt like Freddie was more exhausted than reformed, and that he would've been back to gambling and whoring soon enough if it weren't for the constraints of the genre. I don't think it was a bad book, exactly, but it depressed me. I believed all the good things he did, though, and I could accept his redemption for what he planned to do to Julia, since it was his decision not to do it. I just think it was pretty audacious of Balogh to even go there by having the hero come so close to being a rapist in a book where rape's presented as a bad thing (as opposed to a rape-leads-to-love type romance novel).
I've never actually read
Oops, interrupted comment. I meant that I've never read the other two books in the trilogy. DwC was the only one in the public library.
Janet W: Maddie, you and I would seem to be using weapons (to defend our viewpoints) that we have picked up from the other two books in the trilogy. I don't really care for the Julia book .... bit meh ... but Freddie's abduction seemed fairly unconvincing. But as it is alluded to and discussed in Dancing with Clara, it's fair game for this discussion. My friend @magdalenb at the Promantica blog is, like you, quite unconvinced with DwC ... for a variety of reasons. So here I am saying but if you could see Freddy years later in Dancing with Harriet, you'd "believe"! And I can't divorce my knowledge of that book from my opinion. Is that fair when judging a book? I've never been able to decide. Great discussion, thank you ... and I would agree that Freddy is exhausted at the end of DwC.
I think it's perfectly fair not to divorce your knowledge of other books from your impression of the book at hand. A character is still the same character no matter what novel he's in. He can change and new things can be revealed about him, but you should still be able to pick up any given book that features him and say, "Yes, that's Freddie." Unless he goes through a Darth Vader type change, in which case all bets are off.
That being said, I've never reading the Julia one. Everything I know about it comes from DwC, where Freddie's past actions are important to the plot. He's very ashamed of them, they create a great deal of awkwardness when Clara meets his relatives, and he only tells Clara when he wants to drive her away. (I don't remember why he did that now, actually. Probably something to do with being unworthy of love, he will only hurt her, etc.) I don't think his ineffectuality as a villain is really an issue, either. It's still very wrong to threaten somebody with rape, no matter how little chance there is of it actually happening.
I haven't read Tempting Harriet, either, but I don't think I'd be convinced just by seeing Freddie being a stand-up guy. I'd think, "Well, of course he's a wonderful person now. He's a character in a romance novel that takes place after his own story. That's just the way things are done." I'd accept it half-heartedly and move on, probably, but I'd only be truly convinced if it showed him developing from the Freddie at the end of DwC into the Freddie of TH, or at least explained a little of what happened in the interval. Which it might do, I don't know.
I'll be sure to check out that blog post!
If I understand your thesis correctly, it has to do not with the transformation itself but with the ways we traditionally like to see our heroes and heroines.
We like alpha heroes who need to tone down their power and increase their sense of commitment to a single beloved. If he has abused his alpha powers, he is redeemed by the heroine's ability (which no one else has) to see his merit and worth.
We don't like heroines who are too powerful at the start -- the abusive female executive, the snake-in-the-grass boyfriend-stealing BFF, the "slut" -- so we don't want to read about their redemption.
There are exceptions: Sugar Beth in Susan Elizabeth Phillips' Ain't She Sweet is all about redeeming herself. In that case, she has to take the first step of seeing her crimes -- particularly as she was tried & convicted in her hometown court of public opinion without much of a public indictment and with no defense. Once Sugar Beth sees what she did, she can start to do better and regain people's trust.
One distinction between men and women -- and like all so-called differences, it's at best a guideline and not a universal truth -- is that when at fault, men blame others while women internalize and often exaggerate their faults. In other words, women end up feeling guiltier than they deserve, while men often feel justified in their actions and angry at anyone who would suggest otherwise.
With those patterns at least common, I can see how heroines get "empowered" and released from their self-imposed limitations through the transformative power of love. And heroes need taking down a peg.
@Magdalen:
"And heroes need taking down a peg."
Of course they do. That's why romance fiction is by, for, and about women, isn't it?
dick
Janet/Maddie - I'm dying to read DwC and TH. One day.
Magdalen - there are always exceptions, aren't there? Generalisations are useful but also limiting.
dick - and I think that might be a generalisation too far for me... Or are you the exception that proves the rule?
@tumperkin:
Nah! Guess I got the tone wrong on that one, huh? 'Twas just a wee bit of anti-sexist sarcasm.
dick
dick - provocateurs are very welcome here at IIR :-)
I think this is incredibly interesting.
Post a Comment