Indulging yourself is a very, very noble task. Don’t stop doing that. You’re giving yourself a break, an escape, and a moment of relaxation—and if you’ve noticed the workaholic, wired culture many of us live in, that cessation of constant action is a true respite.
Not only are you indulging yourself, but you’re indulging yourself with, literally, happiness. You’re reading a reminder that problems work out, challenges become easier, mysteries get solved, and everyone involved can live happily ever after. There is absolute value in reminding yourself that happiness is a worthwhile endeavor.
Harlequin, which publishes over a hundred romances each month, can tell you (and me, actually) a great deal about the value of romance for its readership. Harlequin has an entire corporate division dedicated to researching its customer base, and they host focus groups where they ask readers to explain why romance is valuable to them—and not just Harlequin romance, but romance in general.
Reading a romance novel is indulging yourself in happiness.
Janet Finlay, head of research for Harlequin, says that in each focus group, much to her continued surprise, there are always women who can remember with great and vivid detail the first romance they ever read. She says that listening to women share details about the first romance they read is much like listening to someone share a story about a truly special moment in her life. Readers can remember details of that first romance, even if it was over thirty years prior.
She’s totally right. I have long had a similar theory that romance fans do not ever forget that first romance novel, especially if they enjoyed it. For example, the first romance I read was Catherine Coulter’s Midsummer Magic. I read it in 1991. I can still remember where I found it (in the public library), how I found it (petty larceny), and who introduced me to romance (a high school classmate—I stole the book from her while she went to the ladies’ room, checked it out of the library, and left before she returned to her seat). I can tell you details about that book as well, not only because there are some crazy over-the-top moments but because that book made a tremendous impression on me. It was not just the story of two very headstrong (I believe the word “mule-headed” was used by both parties) people learning to accept one another, but the absolutely insane lengths the heroine, Frances, goes to to avoid marrying the hero. She goes from Hot Scottish Lassie to Butt-Ugly, Judgmental, Slightly Rumpled, Possibly Smelly, and Definitely Nearsighted Dowd—and he marries her anyway, precisely because he thinks she really is all of those things. Imagine his surprise when a few months later he discovers she’s really quite lovely (read: hot), she’s terribly intelligent, and she’s wickedly and lastingly pissed off at him.
Reading this book, with the mistaken identity and the characters being hoisted by their own petards more than once, was a revelation to my fiction-starved teenage mind. Here were stories, big, rich, detailed, lengthy stories, about passion and excitement and places I’d never been. I was tired of stories about high schools that were populated by people more beautiful, more blonde, more aquamarine-eyed, well-adjusted, and wealthy than I was, and in romances, I found adventure, challenge, and emotional depth I hadn’t experienced in fiction before. In short: Boo Yah!
Just about every romance reader I’ve ever spoken to can recall the first romance she read, and certainly the romance that hooked her on the genre. As Harlequin sees it, the first romance is a moment of passage, and can be a marker of coming-of-age due to the emotional experience of finding this rich and very well-populated form of narrative written mostly by women, for women, about women.
And it’s not just “older women” or “women of a certain age.” Romance readers are all ages, so you can chuck that stereotype of women in their graying years, wearing shabby sweatshirts with stained sweatpants, reading fat paperbacks, and surrounded by too many cats. Romance readers are young and old, and may have nothing in common except the books they read and the experience they gain from reading them.
Just about every romance reader I’ve ever spoken to can recall the first romance she read.
The Romance Writers of America collects statistics on romance readers every year, and according to their 2009 figures
Women comprise just over 90 percent of the romance readership.
The majority of the readership in the United States is women ages thirty-one to forty-nine.
Most romance readers are currently in a romantic relationship. (So maybe that theory that romance readers are desperate, single, undersexed neurotics can go away too. Please.)
Harlequin’s research has revealed what they consider the three main things that we romance readers receive from our fiction-reading. The first is rather obvious: escape and relaxation—but, as Finlay says, those are broad and generic terms. Most people read anything to escape or relax. Romance specifically creates a sense of hope and hopefulness that a romantic situation can and does exist. Perhaps you haven’t experienced it with your parent’s marriage or your friends’ marriages or your own relationships, but there is lasting romance. Romance reading affirms that idea and supports belief in the possibility.
Second, romance readers find ways to temporarily leave their present situations—though not every reader escapes entirely into the fantasy world. Certainly not every reader believes she is being kissed by a secret prince who is also a billionaire and a well-hung sexually adventurous tiger in the bedroom besides. The value of romance-reading, as Harlequin has found with its reader focus groups, is not so much in what the romance novel offers as an escape destination, but what reading offers as a temporary rest from the present stress and demands of life.
One woman in a focus group mentioned that her every waking moment was spent caring for her son, who was dying. The only time she had to forget that daily pain was when she was reading a romance, because then she could get away from that imminent unhappy ending.
It’s not always a tragic situation that brings readers back to romance. Any amount of rest from a present stress could be desired. Another woman said that romances help her make that transition from workday to family evening: “I just need thirty minutes after work of reading Harlequin books and all the stress of the day is gone. All it takes is thirty minutes and then I’m ready to cook dinner.” Escape and fantasy play an important role in every person’s life, whether it’s the fantasy of romance, or the fantasy of being an unstoppable warrior, or knowing you’re the smartest person in the room, able to solve any puzzle with observational skills and the ability to quirk one eyebrow. The time spent in escape and fantasy, regardless of the venue of the escape, is fulfilling because it presents a time of rest and quiet while one is awake. Some people watch TV, some folks play games, some build or create things, and some people read—and some do all of the above, though not necessarily at the same time. One would hope not, anyway—might be messy.
A third benefit that romance readers receive, according to Harlequin’s research (which I am told fills many a PowerPoint presentation), is the validation of seeing their lives, their stresses, their beliefs, and their values reflected in fictional narratives. It’s reassuring to see confirmation of your own beliefs and to find someone or something that is like you. This is part of the reason that inspirational or Christian-focused romance is popular: it is reassuring for a reader to see a validation of personal values, and to realize that one is not a freak for wanting to attend church, for finding community in a spiritual setting, or for wanting to be chaste.
Within the romance genre, there exists the validation of the belief and the desire for a happy ending, and the idea of a perfect someone who will create happiness in tandem. Perhaps this explains why romance readers are in romantic relationships themselves: they’re repeatedly reading about successful relationships, and creating ones for themselves as best they can.
This is not to say that every romance reader is in a happily blissful relationship—not true. Some are single, some are partnered and miserable, and some have a relationship that’s in progress. But the affirmation of see
ing conflict resolution and the acquisition of more self-confidence played out over and over again with different problems and different people can create a belief in the possibility that, if a fictional heroine can overcome that problem, surely one’s own difficulties can be battled into submission. It’s pretty simple: seeing kicking of ass inspires one to kick ass.
These benefits of reading romance, as Harlequin puts it, are only some of the reasons why romance readers are so devoted to the genre—and boy howdy, are we devoted. This dedication is one unique quirk of the romance reader. We turn to romances and stories of courtship again and again. We finish one book and immediately seek another. We read romances that vary in settings a few hundred years or even light-years apart from one another, but we return to the stories of courtship repeatedly.
One reason that fans of the romance genre read so much of it is that there are few experiences as thrilling as falling into an electric attraction or a feisty relationship with someone you’re seriously, seriously into. Falling into like, into love, or even into oh-my-gosh-I-want-to-kiss-you is a heady and delicious experience.
Author Julia London says that her readers thank her for the ability to re-experience their joy and excitement through fiction: “They have thanked me for giving them a romance to fall into. I think that feeling of falling in love is something we have all experienced and for many of us, that falling in love has turned to companionable love. Yet the feeling of falling is something we want to experience again, and I think readers can do that safely in a book and keep the love without giving up the love we have. It’s not that readers idolize the hero or heroine and wish their own spouse was more like that person. Reading romance is about the emotional attachment and connection, and enjoying that thrill in a contained narrative (one that guarantees a happy ending—don’t forget that part).”
Reading about the emotional experience allows the reader to enjoy it vicariously, to feel the emotional pull and upheaval without going through it personally—which is a good thing because it can be exhausting! This isn’t truly different from someone who adores thriller, spy, or crime novels because they enjoy being scared, or someone who reads fantasy or science fiction novels because they like the experience of being placed into an alternate universe and learning their way around each time they pick up a new book. That vicarious emotional and intellectual thrill is one reason people read and return to romance repeatedly. We see reflections of ourselves in romance, and of our own experiences, each time we read. To quote French author François Mauriac, “‘Tell me what you read and I’ll tell you who you are’ is true enough, but I’d know you better if you told me what you reread.”
“The feeling of falling in love is something we want to experience again, and I think readers can do that safely in a book… without giving up the love we have.”
—JULIA LONDON
SEEING YOURSELF IN A ROMANCE
Romance readers can find inspiration in their romance in myriad ways. Reba, a fan of the genre, says that one thing she enjoys “about romance novels is the [depiction of a] woman struggling for independence in a world that does not recognize her value. Historicals are especially good for this, but I think they only highlight things that women recognize exist to this day. To wit, even our literature is seen as ‘less than,’ despite strong writing, compelling storytelling, and regular inclusion of universal truths (or as universal as truths can get, anyway).
“So women fighting to be seen as strong, smart, fully realized human beings with something to offer strikes a chord with me. Since I do have the benefit of civil rights (such as they are) and a more open society (ditto), the least I can do is sally forth with as much pluck as the heroine of a Victorian novel, grateful that, if nothing else, I don’t have to manage a bustle.”
Seeing one’s values and desires in a narrative is powerful—and so is seeing the possibility of one’s ideal self. I realize that sounds tremendously Oprah-esque, but hear me out. Reading romances can and absolutely has taught readers to consider who they want to be, and has allowed them to understand themselves in a unique fashion.
It can be difficult to find realistic and possible encounters between two people in popular entertainment. The best storytelling combines the impossible drama, the improbable tension, and the realistic encounters that depict awkward and confusing human relations. Not everyone is in an impossibly exclusive private school for wealthy teens, or running for their lives from yet another serial killer, or being blackmailed into posing as a stunningly beautiful tycoon’s mistress, or fighting vampires in Regency England. But everyone knows that feeling when you see something or someone you admire, and find yourself wanting to emulate. Seeing your potential ideal self, whether she is brave, clever, funny, or merely able to get through the awkward moment of not knowing what to say to someone, can be absorbing and inspiring.
On a long and entertaining thread of comments on my website, romance readers shared with me what they learned from romance, and how they learned about themselves from the books they’ve enjoyed—and the characters they’ve loved and hated.
Avid reader Kelly says she thinks romances help her envision her own future because they help her picture situations objectively and figure out what it was she wanted in a relationship: “Romances have helped me to think through things. How would I act in this situation, how would I react to that, would I put up with that, what would be a deal-breaker, what would I SAY? For example, would I move across the country to be with him? Would I take the chance of being able to find a new job that I like as much as my current one? Do I trust him to be alone with his ex? Do I care that he has a difficult kid? Would I want to be with a guy who has that much anger? Is he too controlling? Romances have put words to feelings and experiences. When the hero and heroine break up, you feel the pain, and when you feel it in real life, it’s familiar and less scary. By acting out things in [my] imagination, I prepared for real life.
“Romance novels are over-the-top and exaggerated, completely focused on relationships, but that’s what they are for. The relationship lessons are highlighted by being exaggerated.”
“Romances have helped me to think through things.”
—KELLY, A READER
Romance reader Nadia says romance has absolutely taught her how she would like to be valued: “I’d say being a lover of romances from early high school on did help me in relationships as a barometer of what I did or didn’t want. The heroines of favorite romances have one thing in common: they are worth the effort. And so, eventually, that seeped into my own thinking.
“Maybe he won’t have to save me from pirates, or disguise himself to secretly marry me to rescue me from a worse fate, or deliberately lose a major football game to keep me from getting killed by the villain, but dammit, he could make a date and keep it, wash the sheets before I spend the night, and cook dinner every now and then.”
I love how she expressed that idea: the heroine is worth the effort, no matter how insane and complicated that effort may be—and let’s be honest, there are some crazy situations that romance heroes and heroines have to dig themselves out of before they can reach the final pages and their happy-ever-after.
Olivia T. says similarly that romances have taught her about herself: “I did not start reading romance novels until after the end of my First Real Relationship. At first they were a comfort to me, reminding me that I was well rid of that idiot because he sure did not act like any of the heroes in the books I was reading.
“However, after reading more romance novels I found that romance is not about a perfect man meeting a perfect woman and living happily ever after…It isn’t about meeting a perfect man; it’s about meeting the man who is perfect for me. Romance has taught me to own myself.”
We interrupt this nonfictional celebration of romance to bring you…romance! Sprinkled throughout the book are excerpts from romances that illustrate the points I'm making, and represent some of the very best of the genre. Enjoy, and if you need a shopping list, there's one
in the back.
Mr. Turner slid his finger under her chin. “Yet another reason why I am glad I am not a gentleman. Do you know why my peers want their brides to have pale skin?”
She was all too aware of the golden glow of vitality emanating from him. She could feel the warmth in his finger. She shouldn’t encourage him. Still, the word slipped out. “Why?”
“They want a woman who is a canvas, white and empty. Standing still, existing for no other purpose than to serve as a mute object onto which they can paint their own hopes and desires. They want their brides veiled. They want a demure, blank space they can fill with whatever they desire.”
He tipped her chin up, and the afternoon sunlight spilled over the rim of her bonnet, touching her face with warmth.
“No.” Margaret wished she could snatch that wavering syllable back. But what he said was too true to be borne, and nobody knew it better than she. Her own wants and desires had been insignificant. She’d been engaged to her brother’s friend before her second season had been halfway over. She’d been a pale, insipid nothing, a collection of rites of etiquette and rules of precedent squashed into womanly form and given a dowry.
His voice was low. “Damn their bonnets. Damn their rules.”
“What do you want?” Her hands were shaking. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Miss Lowell, you magnificent creature, I want you to paint your own canvas. I want you to unveil yourself.” He raised his hand to her cheek and traced the line of warm sunshine down her jaw. That faint caress was hotter and more dizzying than the relentless sun overhead. She stood straight, not letting herself respond, hoping that her cheeks wouldn’t flush.
Everything I Know about Love I Learned from Romance Novels Page 3
