Romance books often get stick for being…well, romance books. Here, award winning romance author Seána Tinley tackles some of the common myths and criticisms.
Picture the scene: Southern France, 2025: the billionaire hero returns to sweep our heroine off her feet and take her away to enjoy a life of luxury on his yacht.
Or this one: London, 1815: the handsome Duke that all the young ladies want to marry chooses our outspoken, sceptical heroine over all of them. He proposes, she says Yes, and off she goes, looking forward to the ease of a life as a duchess.
The romance hero must embody perfection, right? He has to be good-looking, sexy, smart, kind, and generous. He gives to charity, does good works, and is an all-round paragon of virtue. Or is he?
Women (and it is mostly women) who read romance are often accused of having impossibly high standards, or that reading about fictional heroes will spoil them for ‘real life’.
Lads (and it’s probably mostly lads) who say this, you’re missing the point.
Actually, you’re missing six points—and here they are.
It’s a complete fantasy. You’re never going to marry a handsome billionaire in real life.
You think I don’t know that? Yes, it is a fantasy. That’s the idea! As a reader, I want something that takes me away from my own life. Something engaging. Something emotional. Something where I’m not afraid there’ll be a bad ending. (And I’m not sure I’d want to marry a billionaire in real life!) When I watcha romcom film I want the goodies to win, the baddies to get trounced, and the couple to end up together. It’s the same thing when I read a romance. I don’t need it to be realistic. I just want to share in the glow when they finally get together, to set the book down afterwards with a feeling of satisfaction. For a day, or an hour, or at least for fifteen minutes, all is well in the world. And that feeling is precious.
Why does a romance always end with a kiss or a wedding ring? Why can’t there be a break-up ending now and again?
Romance, just like other genres such as thriller, crime, cosy crime, and science fiction, has rules that allow it to be included in that category. Sherlock Holmes could never be described as a romance, and Brave New World is not cosy crime. In order for a book to be categorised as romance, it has to have a developing romantic relationship that is resolved by the end. It has to have a positive outcome for the relationship, with the couple together and likely to stay together. For now, anyway. In fact, there are broadly two types of endings in romance: HEA and HFN. Happy Ever After (HEA) is common in historical romance, where everything is tied up neatly with a wedding ring. In contemporary stories, Happy For Now is much more common—the author brings the couple together at the end of the book. Not married, not engaged. But together. Yes, sometimes you can have a HEA in contemporary and a HFN in historical. But so long as the ending gives that uplifting glow, it doesn’t matter that much.
Why don’t we see what happens afterwards? Like when they really begin to annoy one another?
Look, I love my husband dearly. But he snores. Romance heroes never snore. They don’t leave the toilet seat up or leave socks lying on the floor or tell you something about Doctor Who for the hundredth time. They just don’t. (Or if they do, it’s endearing). The whole idea of reading romance is that the story stops before the trials of everyday life kick in. If the book is well-written you should have a sense of how the couple will manage together—that they’re compatible, have similar values and goals, and fancy each other. The rest, they can work out by themselves, thank you very much!
Aren’t these characters just cardboard cut-outs?
How very dare you! You honestly think that millions of romance books are read every year by smart, discerning readers who just happen to accept cardboard cut-out characters? Romance is one of the biggest selling fiction genres (probably the biggest, if all romance books are included in the definition). Readers know what’s what. If characters aren’t complex, and well-drawn, and have flaws as well as virtues, then they’re just boring, and the whole thing falls apart. Mr Darcy is so much more interesting than Mr Bingley. He is arrogant, and proud, and infuriating, but (we eventually discover) he is a good man—and a better one than sly Wickham. Complex heroes and anti-heroes take centre stage; secondary characters stay in the background of our imagination. Romance authors work hard to ensure their main characters in particular are well-rounded and interesting, and that there is both internal (emotional) and external (plot) conflict between the hero and the heroine. So the hero in a romance book may not be handsome, or rich. He may have quirks or scars or disabilities—as may the heroine. He may be grumpy or arrogant or lacking in self-awareness. But he will be good enough to be a match for our heroine. She deserves the best, and he is worthy of her.
Ok, be honest. Isn’t this just soft porn for women?
This one really, really gets me. In an era where hard-core, demeaning actual porn is readily available, and is being regularly consumed by a majority of men (and increasingly, by boys, which is concerning), why is it that women get the raised eyebrow for reading a few spicy scenes now and again? Not all romances have hot scenes, but those that do are perfectly entitled to show the reader how the relationship between the main couple develops, and sexy scenes can be part of that. Now, before you start clutching your pearls, lads, let me remind you that women are people too, and we are perfectly entitled to read what we want—including a bitta spice! Romance is not erotica—these are two different genres—but romance novels can include scenes that run all the way from discreet and sweet to explicit and sexy as hell.
Isn’t it boring reading a romance? We all know what happens at the end.
Sigh. Once more, lads, you’re missing the point. It’s the journey, not the destination. There’s something thrilling in knowing that two people are going to end up together, long before they themselves realise it. We’re not reading for the what, we’re reading for the how. How will it happen, when they’re at loggerheads? Or when she’s already engaged (to someone who is totally unsuitable)? Or when he is the enemy of her family? (I’ve used that one in my next book, The Irish Midwife. It was great fun to write!) So stop making assumptions about romance, its tropes and requirements, or why we read it. We read romance because it’s well-written, engaging, and—most importantly—uplifting. And in today’s world we all need a wee glow now and again.
So there you have it! The next time the anti-romance lads come sniffing around with sneers and smirks, you’ll have answers that’ll knock their socks off! And in the meantime, keep reading what you love, and if romance is your thing, be proud of it!
Seána Tinley‘s new book, The Irish Midwife, is now available for pre-order in all good bookshops.
