The debate continues:
Your reader claiming that explicit writing about sex in romances makes those romances porn and then saying the writing about sex is “orthogonal to true art – it suppresses rather than invites reflection” irritates me. Look, for me, violence in television shows, movies, video games, and some books is also “orthogonal to true art.” Nevertheless, reviewers review and discuss violence (such as Jaime Lannister raping his sister Cersei in Game of Thrones) and do so in thoughtful ways, exploring the nuances of the violence, the sex, and their effects. There is no similar, serious, thoughtful writing in quantity about romance novels in the mainstream press. In fact, it’s my belief that the reason a lot of romance has unnecessary or uninspired writing about sex is that there are no sympathetic yet analytical reviews that could have helped shape the skills of writers and the tastes of the audience from the beginning.
Another reader:
Speaking as an erotic romance writer, and an acquisition editor for a romance publisher, I can assure you that erotic romance novels are not at all ONLY pornography. In fact, if you throw the word “porn” into a gathering of romance authors, you’d better get the hell out of there quickly before they eat you for breakfast! Only someone who has not read a well-written romance novel would say something so obviously dismissive and condescending.
I could list the many romance novels I’ve consumed that have influenced my ethics and morality (for the better), but the number is too unwieldy for this email. I’ve learned about racism, miscegenation, rape, slavery, consent, dub-con, homosexuality, ageism, history, polyamory, and most importantly, hope and acceptance, from romance novels. The kind of subject matter some authors routinely tackle is stunning. I’ve also learned how not to write from the badly written romances (just as I have learned that same lesson from crappy literary novels, of which there are many).
Romance is easily one of the most widely-read category of books. As an industry, it is booming. Yet I am continually amazed at the lack of respect these novels receive. Thank you for once again highlighting how little progress we have made in our world when it comes to what we allow women to be – because it’s just not cool to read something romantic, is it? In order to be a real woman, a smart woman, a perfect woman, you can only read The Odyssey.
Oh wait, what was Ulysses trying to do? Get back home to the woman he loved? Hmmm …
Meanwhile, another reader – who is writing a book about the cultural response to romance – puts forth a canon that stretches back hundreds of years:
The word “romance” originally referred to a relatively lengthy, fictional narrative, in poetry or in prose, written in “romanz” – that is, the romance language, which, in this case, was Old French. Romances could treat topics out of classical or French history, but they are most famous nowadays for treating matters of British history, especially the stories of King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table. So, the first “romance novels,” in a sense, are the accounts of the loves Lancelot and Guinevere and Tristan and Iseut in the twelfth century, which are the ancestor of the love stories we know today.
While classical culture knew erotic love, such as the passion of Dido for Aeneas, it is often argued that “romantic” love as we know it – with its emphasis upon the lovers’ suffering and their exaltation through suffering – originated in these “romanz.” The “canonical” works of this genre would include Chrétien de Troyes’ Lancelot; Béroul’s, Thomas’, and Gottfried von Strassburg’s romances of Tristan; Marie de France’s Lais; and the lengthy Vulgate and Post-Vulgate Cycles, with their compendia of Arthurian lore.
Medieval romance is followed by Renaissance romance epic. I would recommend Ludovico Ariosto’s Orlando Furioso, which contains enough bodice-ripping to satisfy any Harlequin reader, and Torquato Tasso’s Jerusalem Delivered.
While the English made a distinction between medieval “romance” and the modern “novel” (which they claim to have invented in the eighteenth century), most other Europeans use the same term (“roman,” “romanzo,” “Roman,” etc.) for the two genres. Even in England, Gothic novels were often subtitled “A Romance,” in order to link them with the earlier, medieval tradition. I can’t speak to modern romances, but I suspect one can’t do much better than Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights.
While there is very much a “romance canon,” it is also true that, from the 12th century to the present day, the genre has been criticized for suggesting that amorous relationships should be passionate and, typically, outside the boundaries of marriage. Emma Bovary reads too many romances, and we see what happens to her …
The Dish 