That reminds me: I once tried reading a romance novel to see what female desires they pander to and how they do it. [1] From what I could tell, it looks like the male love interest was constructed to satisfy numerous female desiderata that are near impossible to have all in the same person:
He was extremely technically skilled.
He was a servant of the female lead’s estate, but, like, the leader of all the other servants. (So, below her class, but still, um, someone who orders other people around.)
ETA: He had connections to earls and lords by way of his highly-valued technical skills and membership in societies related to those skills. (Earls wouldn’t socialize with someone from the servant class, but whatever. Why didn’t he just hop the next boat to America?)
He was charged with a crime that the female lead was able to discern through her intuition that he was really innocent of. (i.e. another forbidden fruit aspect)
He was the long-lost son of a nobleman that—yep—the female lead could also discern through her intuition. (Well-built servant, but also of noble blood! w00t!)
He becomes extremely committed to her when he finds out he’s fathered her child.
He was a talented sculptor of figurines. (Starving artist: check!)
So, it looks like there’s a lot of room for such “impossible men” to be created in service of females.
[1] Coincidentally, after buying the book, I found out that the first name of the bad guy in the book is Silas. (The real bad guy, I mean. Not the rebellious, hot, tempting guy. I mean the guy that tortures animals.)
Google romance novel formula, and you’ll find web pages by romance novel authors patiently explaining that there is no such thing as a romance novel formula.
Funny thing is, google science fiction novel formula, or fantasy novel formula, and you won’t find that.
I read a book called “Dangerous men, adventurous women”, by romance novelists for romance novelists, also to find out what women looked for in romance novels. And not only is there a formula for romance novels; there’s a formula for articles about romance novels:
Spend the first half of the article complaining about the idea that romance novels are formulaic.
Spend the second half of the article describing the formula, and warning would-be authors that they won’t sell books if they deviate from it.
The formula is basically to teach women as many dysfunctional, self-destructive ideas about romance as possible. Start with a young, never-married, beautiful, rebellious woman. Find her a dangerous, out-of-control, rakish, tall, dark, brooding, handsome man with many faults but a heart of gold, who has extensive sexual experience and has broken many womens’ hearts. They have sex. He changes, tamed by her love and by her thighs; but remains dangerous enough to protect her in the future.
Never try to show romance after marriage. Never use protagonists over the age of 25, or who have physical flaws. It’s good to have them feel sudden, instant lust for each other at their first meeting, but don’t give them any actual logical reasons to like each other. Instead, have them hate each other but be forced together by circumstances. Never have planning enter into their meeting or their meeting again; fate and luck must be the determining factor.
Contemporary romance sometimes make the woman as dangerous as the man. I read 2 complete romances, and in both of them, the man and the woman both turned out to be either special-forces-types or professional killers.
Romeo and Juliet is not very much like romance novels. It’s just as dysfunctional, only in different ways. (In a modern romance, you at least get some idea why the people end up liking each other. Also, love turns out to be something you can actually have, rather than something too pure for this world that destroys everyone it touches.)
Romeo and Juliet is not very much like romance novels. It’s just as dysfunctional, only in different ways. In a modern romance, you at least get some idea why the people end up liking each other.
As I understand it, the whole point of R&J (or at least one interpretation) is that it’s making fun of that kind of “romance novel” attitude; the two teenagers just met and they’re over the top with how in love they are. And this is just a few days after Romeo was madly in love with Rosalind.
I’m not sure that’s totally fair. Sonnet 130, for instance, essentially makes fun of romantic poetry by subverting it: instead of waxing eloquently about his love’s beauty, Shakespeare makes fun of over-the-top descriptions.
Yes, but there’s no doubt that he’s making fun of it. Romeo and Juliet is tragic; it’s pretty clear we’re supposed to feel sorry for R&J, not slyly laugh at them.
Authors are probably less fond of subtlety in times and places where being misinterpreted can get you executed. (Except, of course, when being correctly interpreted would get them executed.)
Romeo & Juliet is a tragedy, not a comedy. They are children in love with the idea of love rather than mystical soul-mates. The tragedy is that they are killed by various circumstances, not that they lost some amazing, transcendent love.
While Romeo’s wholehearted dedication to the idea of love (starting with Rosaline and then fixing on Juliet) is somewhat humorous and possibly satirical, but the bulk of the play is tragedy, not satire or romance.
Honestly, I find those who think Romeo & Juliet is a romance rather stupid and somewhat disturbing. If Romeo & Juliet is the apex of romance, I’d like something else, please.
Never use protagonists over the age of 25, or who have physical flaws.
Hm, the one I read violated this. The female lead was 31 and the book noted (though infrequently) that she was not physically attractive. And it seems that makes sense for a romance novel, since you’re trying to pander to the fantasies of women who want to believe that they can have an exciting romance with a desirable man despite not being physically appealing or despite being past the ideal age.
The formula is basically to teach women as many dysfunctional, self-destructive ideas about romance as possible. Start with a young, never-married, beautiful, rebellious woman. Find her a dangerous, out-of-control, rakish, tall, dark, brooding, handsome man with many faults but a heart of gold, who has extensive sexual experience and has broken many womens’ hearts. They have sex. He changes, tamed by her love and by her thighs; but remains dangerous enough to protect her in the future.
That reminds me: I once tried reading a romance novel to see what female desires they pander to and how they do it. [1] From what I could tell, it looks like the male love interest was constructed to satisfy numerous female desiderata that are near impossible to have all in the same person:
He was extremely technically skilled.
He was a servant of the female lead’s estate, but, like, the leader of all the other servants. (So, below her class, but still, um, someone who orders other people around.)
ETA: He had connections to earls and lords by way of his highly-valued technical skills and membership in societies related to those skills. (Earls wouldn’t socialize with someone from the servant class, but whatever. Why didn’t he just hop the next boat to America?)
He was charged with a crime that the female lead was able to discern through her intuition that he was really innocent of. (i.e. another forbidden fruit aspect)
He was the long-lost son of a nobleman that—yep—the female lead could also discern through her intuition. (Well-built servant, but also of noble blood! w00t!)
He becomes extremely committed to her when he finds out he’s fathered her child.
He was a talented sculptor of figurines. (Starving artist: check!)
So, it looks like there’s a lot of room for such “impossible men” to be created in service of females.
[1] Coincidentally, after buying the book, I found out that the first name of the bad guy in the book is Silas. (The real bad guy, I mean. Not the rebellious, hot, tempting guy. I mean the guy that tortures animals.)
Google romance novel formula, and you’ll find web pages by romance novel authors patiently explaining that there is no such thing as a romance novel formula.
Funny thing is, google science fiction novel formula, or fantasy novel formula, and you won’t find that.
Look up the Harlequin Romance author’s guidelines, and you won’t find anything formulaic.
I read a book called “Dangerous men, adventurous women”, by romance novelists for romance novelists, also to find out what women looked for in romance novels. And not only is there a formula for romance novels; there’s a formula for articles about romance novels:
Spend the first half of the article complaining about the idea that romance novels are formulaic.
Spend the second half of the article describing the formula, and warning would-be authors that they won’t sell books if they deviate from it.
The formula is basically to teach women as many dysfunctional, self-destructive ideas about romance as possible. Start with a young, never-married, beautiful, rebellious woman. Find her a dangerous, out-of-control, rakish, tall, dark, brooding, handsome man with many faults but a heart of gold, who has extensive sexual experience and has broken many womens’ hearts. They have sex. He changes, tamed by her love and by her thighs; but remains dangerous enough to protect her in the future.
Never try to show romance after marriage. Never use protagonists over the age of 25, or who have physical flaws. It’s good to have them feel sudden, instant lust for each other at their first meeting, but don’t give them any actual logical reasons to like each other. Instead, have them hate each other but be forced together by circumstances. Never have planning enter into their meeting or their meeting again; fate and luck must be the determining factor.
Contemporary romance sometimes make the woman as dangerous as the man. I read 2 complete romances, and in both of them, the man and the woman both turned out to be either special-forces-types or professional killers.
Romeo and Juliet is not very much like romance novels. It’s just as dysfunctional, only in different ways. (In a modern romance, you at least get some idea why the people end up liking each other. Also, love turns out to be something you can actually have, rather than something too pure for this world that destroys everyone it touches.)
As I understand it, the whole point of R&J (or at least one interpretation) is that it’s making fun of that kind of “romance novel” attitude; the two teenagers just met and they’re over the top with how in love they are. And this is just a few days after Romeo was madly in love with Rosalind.
That would be a modern re-interpretation, not a 1600-ish interpretation. Humor was not subtle, dark, and ironic back then.
Don Quixote was written at the same time, and was making fun of romance novels. It’s very different.
I’m not sure that’s totally fair. Sonnet 130, for instance, essentially makes fun of romantic poetry by subverting it: instead of waxing eloquently about his love’s beauty, Shakespeare makes fun of over-the-top descriptions.
Yes, but there’s no doubt that he’s making fun of it. Romeo and Juliet is tragic; it’s pretty clear we’re supposed to feel sorry for R&J, not slyly laugh at them.
Authors are probably less fond of subtlety in times and places where being misinterpreted can get you executed. (Except, of course, when being correctly interpreted would get them executed.)
Romeo & Juliet is a tragedy, not a comedy. They are children in love with the idea of love rather than mystical soul-mates. The tragedy is that they are killed by various circumstances, not that they lost some amazing, transcendent love.
While Romeo’s wholehearted dedication to the idea of love (starting with Rosaline and then fixing on Juliet) is somewhat humorous and possibly satirical, but the bulk of the play is tragedy, not satire or romance.
Honestly, I find those who think Romeo & Juliet is a romance rather stupid and somewhat disturbing. If Romeo & Juliet is the apex of romance, I’d like something else, please.
Hm, the one I read violated this. The female lead was 31 and the book noted (though infrequently) that she was not physically attractive. And it seems that makes sense for a romance novel, since you’re trying to pander to the fantasies of women who want to believe that they can have an exciting romance with a desirable man despite not being physically appealing or despite being past the ideal age.
Yep. See: Twilight series.