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Last week, my father (who also doubles as my Regency research partner) was in Brooklyn for a visit. Friday night, he poked around my DVD collection and found the BBC version of Pride & Prejudice; he had just visited my aunt, his sister, and seen the 2005 version, and wanted to compare with the one he’d heard was truer to the text (my dad wrote a paper on Emma in college, so he’s up on Austen).
It was 8:30 by the time we sat down to watch, and I warned him this version was at least five hours long, and I knew neither of us would be up that late. We stopped watching at the end of the first DVD (of the two-disc set), right when Elizabeth refuses Darcy’s first offer of marriage.
Whew. It was really, really hard to stop watching right there, right at the emotional black moment of the film. But how perfect its placement was–right as you’re realizing Darcy has feelings for Elizabeth (courtesy of Colin Firth’s guardedly melting glances), and Elizabeth is piqued by Darcy, although not yet willing to admit it, even to herself, he proposes in his characteristic blunt Darcy way.
The scene closes with her telling him that he would be the last man on earth she would ever contemplate marrying, and he tells her he understands perfectly, and will never bother her again. They separate, leaving behind our palpitating hearts.
Austen’s build-up to that moment is magnificent, as is her gradual threading together of our hero and heroine’s lives. It’s hard to believe, only one DVD disc later, that Elizabeth and Darcy will ever get to a place where they can be together.

Pride & Prejudice is one of the best examples of the Big Misunderstanding ever–yes, Elizabeth could have asked Darcy about Wickham, but there are ever so many reasons why she would not; and he could have discerned her embarrassment about her family, and possibly discussed it with her without blurting it out so baldly, but there are ever so many reasons why he would not.

Do you agree with my analysis of P&P as having a Big Misunderstanding?
What examples of a GOOD use of a Big Misunderstanding can you think of? Do you mind them in your novels? Can you envision any situation with a Big Mis that would make as much sense as the ones in P&P? And don’t you feel sorry for my dad, who had to return to Cape Cod without seeing the second half?

Megan
www.meganframpton.com

So I have mentioned my day job, which is being the Community Manager at HeroesandHeartbreakers.com. One of my primary responsibilities is to assign blog topics, and to see what’s working and what’s not, and follow up in response.

One of the things I knew prior to starting the job–duh!–is that paranormal romance is the most popular genre. Not only that, once we started gathering a relatively large community, I saw that PNR posts inspire the most passion.
So why is that? It’s not like historical fans aren’t passionate, nor that they don’t visit the site and read the posts. They just don’t get all hot under the collar (and other places…) the way PNR fans do.
One of the reasons why, I think, is that although historicals are released in series, they don’t have ongoing cliffhangers. Or if they do, it’s not the Fate of the World that is in balance, but perhaps discovering who a spy is, or who stole the jewels, or who someone’s parents are, or whatever. Not earth-shattering stuff.
I also think that historicals, once the HEA is achieved, don’t have many places to go; in PNRs, there is always a world to save, or demons to kill, or vampires to stake. A couple can BE a couple in subsequent books and still be interesting. How interesting would it be to see Lord and Lady Whomever live their lives, have great sex, and be all spoony about each other?
I have to admit, as someone who gets bored once the couple is happily together–even at the end of the book–it wouldn’t be interesting at all.
There are historical mysteries featuring ongoing couples, but their working relationship is more important than their romance, at least in the ones I’ve read. They’re not as passionate anymore because they have to concentrate on solving the mystery.
So–any thoughts about how a historical series could spur on the kind of passionate response a PNR series has?

Today is St. Patrick’s Day, a day where people with–and without–Irish heritage take time to drink green beer and shamrock shakes.

Right. Go on with your bad selves and all.
So anyway, speaking of self-identification, I’ve been revising my Regency-set historical, and my heroine is a vicar’s daughter, raised in a small village, who ends up marrying a marquess.
Imagine how off-kilter one would feel entering into the ton; not only would you not speak in the same accent, you wouldn’t know the families, nor the customs, nor even how to behave during a dance (I do presume she knows how to dance in the first place). It’d be like being a brand-new entrant to a family that had known each other forever, had their own in-jokes, vernacular, and habits. She has to ask herself if she wants to continue to belong to this world, given she feels so out of place and knows her husband has married far beneath him.
Of course you know how it ends, but meanwhile–what do you do when encountering those incredibly awkward situations? What should my snappish, smart heroine do?
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So last night I saw Drive, starring Ryan Gosling and Carey Mulligan, which did not do well at the box office and got mixed reviews.
I loved it. It’s based on the book of the same name by James Sallis, which I read, and so I was prepared for the darkness, the protagonist’s reticence, the violence. What was conveyed so wonderfully, however, was the developing relationship between Gosling’s character (who’s never named, either in the movie or the book) and Irene, played by Carey Mulligan.
They never say out loud how they feel about each other, but just a few minutes of watching the film and you know.
Eventually, Gosling’s character does something extraordinary for Irene, only he never says it. It’s that kind of selflessness that is the defining moment for the hero in my current WIP, a Regency-set historical. He’s selfish and arrogant, so when the heroine figures out he’s done something selfless, she knows he truly loves her, and that’s when she commits her heart to him.
Gosling’s character and my hero could not be farther apart from each other in terms of personality, but the choice they make for love is the same. Amazing.
Megan
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Many of the Riskies–probably all, when I review all of our books–have had our heroes and heroines cross class lines to find love.

Right now, I am revising a manuscript where a genteel woman meets and falls in love with a member of the aristocracy. And I am reading Loretta Chase’s Silk Is For Seduction, where a dressmaker meets–and presumably falls in love with–a member of the aristocracy. A duke, no less.
Now, we’ve all discussed how dukes are very thick on the ground in our romances, and that it would be near impossible for a duke to actually marry someone who didn’t share some of his aristocratic blood lines. So just pretend the hero or heroine is a member of the aristocracy, but not as high as a duke; can you suspend disbelief enough to think they’d fall in love? I know it happened in real life, if rarely, and could those couples look forward to a married life of ostracism from the ton? How different would their worlds be?
In my heroine’s case, she’s never left the small village where she grew up, and now she is heading for London, where she will be introduced as the hero’s wife. I’m wrestling with how much she would know already, in terms of polite behavior, and if she would be absolutely freaked out upon encountering London. She does take things in stride, generally, but it would still be a shock.
Last question, do you like reading romances where the couples cross class lines? Which are your favorite?
Thanks!
Posted in Reading, Writing | Tagged | 8 Replies