Or, why I am ambivalent about romance.
Why I am not always awestruck by the genre.
And why it’s more than the story.

And following on, sort of, from our spirited discussion on Conversion to Romance….No one expects the Romance Inquisition…”Silence, Infidel! Cardinal Scarlett, bring out the comfy chair, the Signet Regencies, the nice cup of tea and the cookies! Later there will be a test…”

Recently, a well-known literary agent bemoaned the fact that queries were full of cliches–rekindled passion, beautiful but feisty heroines, and more–and although there might have been some good stories lurking behind the turgid facades, we’ll never know. She rejected them. Who says language isn’t important?

Over sixty years ago, George Orwell defined six points of good writing in his essay Politics and the English Language:

(i) Never use a metaphor, simile, or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print.
(ii) Never use a long word where a short one will do.
(iii) If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out.
(iv) Never use the passive where you can use the active.
(v) Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word, or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent.
(vi) Break any of these rules sooner than say anything outright barbarous.

Never use a metaphor, simile, or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print. So why does so much romance use the same tired old cliches–the pebbled nubs, the hero who kisses the heroine senseless (quick, call Special Victims Unit!)? I know the argument is that we want to keep the reader in the flow of the story. We don’t want the reader to stop, gasp with astonishment at our artistry, put the book down, and….

But can’t we do better and keep the reader with us? We’re blessed with an extraordinarily rich and subtle language–the same language Austen, the Brontes, Dickens, and Shakespeare used.

Here’s something I love to quote as an example of startling, beautiful writing. It’s the beginning of D. H. Lawrence’s poem Figs. Yes, it’s about fruit, sort of, and if you read the whole thing you’ll find it has its moments but does wander off into DHL Crazyland:

The proper way to eat a fig, in society,
Is to split it in four, holding it by the stump,
And open it, so that it is a glittering, rosy, moist, honied, heavy-petalled four-petalled flower.

You might not want to drop that in the middle of a love scene. But you might want to come up with something of your own, rather than something someone else has used that is “safe.” You might want to use something specific to your characters’ experience, something that speaks to you–and to your reader.

So, yes, it’s all about the love, the romance, the relationship. But for me it’s about the words too.

Thoughts, anyone?

Janet

Enter my contest all this month at roadtoromance.ca
DEDICATION~Winner, 2006 Golden Leaf Contest (Regency)

Big congrats to our two winners, and here’s another contest to enter at roadtromance.ca running all this month–it’s celebrating the official announcement of my two books coming out next year (as opposed to all the unofficial announcements I’ve made here and elsewhere):

Best of luck,
Janet

And the games continue…today, we’re going to take a look at the examples of married bliss in Pride and Prejudice, vote for the most likely to succeed, and imagine how things will go for them in the future.

First, the lovely Mr. and Mrs. Wickham, banished up north, although of course you know Mrs. Bennet will be insisting on a visit (the long-suffering Mr. Bennet in tow) almost as soon as is humanly possible. Life with Wickham will never be boring–think of the excitement Lydia can expect–moonlight flits, stints in debtors’ prison (until Darcy bails them out–for the last time, every time), and lots and lots of babies. Naturally she’ll simper and whisper to her female friends of how passionate a man Wickham is. And I’m sure some of her friends will know exactly what she’s talking about.

Next, Mr. and Mrs. Collins. Charlotte has life very well arranged, as she tells Lizzy–and the gaps are micromanaged by Lady Catherine. In between the gardening, the beehives, and exciting installations of shelves, life will never be dull. The marriage will be childless until the day Lady Catherine tells them it would be extremely appropriate for a man of his station etc. etc. After a few years of earnest procreation, Lady Catherine will make the comment that he seems to have plenty of children, the flow of babies will dry up, and Charlotte can enjoy her comparative solitude once more. And it makes you wonder exactly what was so awful at home with the Lucases that Charlotte was compelled to escape…unless…here’s an alternate scenario: Charlotte produces a baby soon–far too soon–after the marriage. Tongues wag. We see whether Mr. Collins is too stupid to read a calendar. Has Wickham…surely not…then who…

Jane and Bingley. Aaaaw. Sweet, nice, not too bright people who adore each other. How can this marriage not work? I think even with Bingley’s wealth their finances will always be a mess, but they’ll live happily in the country and have lots of children. Jane will plump up a bit. Bingley won’t care. He’ll spend a lot of time riding around the estate, patting his tenants’ children on the head, pretending he knows all about agriculture, and giving dubious advice to his estate manager. The estate manager, of course, will agree with him, because Bingley is so sweet no one (except Darcy) can say no to him, and do what he intended to do in the first place. Later in life Bingley becomes a magistrate and crime rates in the neighborhood soar since Jane won’t let him send anyone to prison, let alone transport or hang them.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet I hope will get on a little better now the financial pressure is off. Possibly with an empty house (Kitty and Mary will become much more eligible because of the Darcy family connection) they may find companionship with each other. Of course the question remains why they married in the first place. He’s a reserved and educated man who married an uneducated, presumably attractive young woman, possibly for the allure of her fine eyes…and who does that remind you of?

Bingo.

Except Elizabeth and Darcy have evolved and broken the pattern–and of course she’s much smarter than her mother. They have learned each other’s deepest and most painful secrets. I have great hopes for these two. Not that I think Darcy will be particularly easy to live with, and Elizabeth, as mistress of Pemberly, may find her new responsibilities challenging. I hope the loyal housekeeper doesn’t revert to Mrs. Danvers mode. I hope their children are not too perfect, or forced by their father to over-achieve. Of course the rest of the family visit them, annoy them, and bombard them with requests for attention, money, or favors. Darcy may have to disappear for a spot of trout fishing with the guys (but not Wickham who will probably be casting for a card game and/or buxom barmaid in the village) if things get excessively feminine or his mother-in-law talks too long and loud. Because even the rarified heights of Pemberly are not immune to Bennets. I hope Elizabeth keeps teasing Darcy. She may, if he becomes excessively pompous, shove him into the pond now and then to teach him a lesson. And frankly, who can blame her?

So let’s hear your take on whose marriage is the happiest and what you see for them in the future–or give us a recommendation for one of the many sequels by other writers for a chance at one of TWO 10th Anniversary Collector’s Editions of A&E’s Pride and Prejudice. If you haven’t already, check out the contest rules and learn more about the prizes at the A&E store. Comment on each of this week’s posts for more chances to win!

S e x.

Sex in the Regency. My advice would be, don’t go there. Look at our own times. Is there a consensus on sexuality? Hardly, and yet everyone has an opinion. Trying to figure out sexual mores from a distance of almost two hundred years is a little daunting. Because for every discovery you make, there’s an exception, and you just end up even more confused.

Sex was for procreation. Except when it wasn’t. Yes, the aristocracy wanted to be sure that their heirs were actually theirs and not the third footman’s…but it didn’t mean anyone was going to enjoy it. Except for the sorts of misbehavior that were purely for enjoyment. Women were stupid creatures who didn’t have any sort of control over the physical desire they weren’t mean to know about. Anything you, uh, did on your own (see how polite I’m being today!) would cause a whole host of exotic, distressing, life-threatening physical and mental symptoms, and everyone would know what you’d been doing.

And oh yes, let’s not forget the distressing consequences of unprotected sex, particularly for women.

It’s enough to make you wonder why and how the Regency is now viewed as this incredibly sexy period. Because, of course, it is. The clothes, the clothes, celebrating men’s beautiful athletic bodies (never in the history of clothing has a style so blatantly demanded that you look there, yes, there–and I don’t count codpieces because they’re just silly). Wonderful, feminine, floaty, transparent gowns for women with not a whole lot underneath. It’s almost as though fashion was an acceptable means of erotic expression.

Romance has created a sort of never-never Regencyland which is a lot of fun to explore. I think it’s also a lot of fun to incorporate some real history into our fantasy. But how much, and what? Real events, real people? What books have you read that you felt really gave you a sense of being in another time and place?

Janet

Nothing–directly–to do with the Regency, but what else is new. We all posted our beach reads a couple of months ago, and although I haven’t been near a beach I have read, actually re-read, one of the books I listed–Our Mutual Friend by Dickens. His last published book, it was published in installments, and I suspect he was pretty much a pantser. The Penguin Classics edition has his chapter by chapter notes, and he takes some astonishing liberties with his plot. He introduces new characters one third of the way through a book already crowded with a cast of dozens. There’s one character who has a long, introspective monologue telling you a key plot point that none of the other characters know, something that made me grit my teeth and mutter “Not fair! No one else could get away with it.” True, because no one else writes like Dickens. No one else breaks the rules with such flair and chutzpah and good humor.

Another “writerly” thing–using setting as characters. This book is haunted by two very strong, atmospheric settings–the river Thames, both a destroyer and a means of rebirth, and the mysterious Dust Heaps that produced a fortune for their owner. What’s in the Dust Heaps? Good question. Secrets and, probably, excrement. It’s possible to go way overboard on Freudian/Marxist interpretations of what OMF is about, so I’ll desist. But one of its themes is about the effect of money–too much, too little–and what it does to people.

But what struck me most about OMF was how much I wanted the female characters to be different. It’s a complex plot, and there are two heroines. One, Bella Wilfer, has a scene that reminded me a little of Anne Elliot’s declaration in Persuasion, where she publicly states that she loves the man she once rejected, even if he no longer cares for her. Anne’s declaration is understood only by Wentworth, and it comes from hard-won self-knowledge and trust in her own feelings. Bella’s is equally impassioned and sincere, but she’s been manipulated into it by a male character, her patron Mr. Boffins (who has inherited the Dust Heaps)–who does it entirely because he cares about her. So she goes from being an infantilized daughter to the wife of another man who then deceives her–in the most playful, charming, kind way–as to the extent of his real wealth.

The other main female character, Lizzie, is interesting because she’s working-class and as sexual a female being as Dickens ever wrote about. How he does it is interesting–by omission, mostly, but it works. She’s pursued by an upper class, wealthy man whose intentions may or may not be honorable–he doesn’t even know himself. You’d think a woman who rowed a boat on the river while her father dredges up corpses could handle this situation–heck, even the genteel Lizzie Bennett could and did. But no, she too has a male mentor, another father figure, who tells her that she isn’t strong enough to withstand the gentleman’s advances, and advises her to flee.

It’s interesting that Jane Austen, with her stalwart, principled heroines, was read as widely as Dickens. So were those other proponents of strong, passionate female characters, the Brontes and George Eliot. Why? Because Dickens delivers. Even a troubling book like OMF has so much–wonderfully named characters, sympathetic and grotesque, and usually both; scenes of melting tenderness and silly comedy–oh goodness, I’m going to say all human life is there, but it’s true. It must have been fifteen years since I read this last, but the good bits are still good. Dickens is the consummate storyteller, the puppeteer pulling the strings of his characters and his readers.

So what’s your favorite Dickens book/tv or movie adaptation?