OH, BOY!

OH, BOY!

I finally happened. Over the past couple of months, I began
reading romances. These are the paperbacks you see in the
supermarket. They are inexpensive compared to most other
books on the rack and they picture muscley men with oily-
looking chests on the cover. Sometimes they hold a buxom
woman, her long hair streaming in the breeze.

I look for romances set in Regency London. Many feature threadbare but practical and pretty (without the specs and with some new dresses) young women and rakehell second- son nobles or the cold and remote Lord Somebody.

Society is merciless and shallow. Pleasure-seeking
and idleness (gambling, drinking, gossiping) are the way of life.
"Masculine" is used often. The bad characters always loose, men, especially, grow and change and there is always a just and happy ending that usually ends with a wedding. No wonder these books are for women.

I've always thought of trying to write one. What could be so
hard? They sell like mad and, apparently, there is no editor to stand
in the way of bad writing or atrocious translation into digital.
Like all other novels, the successful romance is cleverly plotted, sometimes with a mystery to be solved. In many, there is credible atmosphere and description that makes you think the writer has actually done some research. It may not be as easy as it looks because you can't do it cynically. You must believe.

Yes, there is sex. Close to porn in some romances, titillation
in all.  The male lover is patient and expert, full of restraint
and on a mission to possess and please. The woman may be
reluctant and inexperienced, but she catches on fast and before long simply cannot get enough. Marriage and a baby, noble rank and a
stately home are in her future. No wonder these books are for women.

When she was quite old, my mother said she read a book a day and now I realize what she was reading. They go like peanuts and after one romance, you need another. I remember seeing the ancient mother of a friend, wearing a silky bedjacket and propped on the bed pillows like a small pink pig, reading a Barbara Cartland romance. Then, I'd never heard of Cartland but she was an early writer of more than 700 novels in this genre. All of her work is virginal compared with much being written today, but Cartland put the genre on the map.

Today's authors have fakey names like Amanda and Shona. The titles often include such words as "Indiscreet" and "Passion." As e-books priced slightly lower than regular digital fiction. Harlequin, long a major publisher of romance, declared sales of more than $426 million in 2012 with 27% of that in digital sales.

To be fair, some books the romance genre are actually very good. I recently read two Regency novels by Tracey Devlin: "Lady's Revenge," and "Checkmate, My Lord," that have great characters and plenty of intrigue. These two are part of a series with the main characters appearing in degrees of importance. Barbara Metzger, Joan Smith, and Carla Kelly will keep you occupied and are so much fun without gratuitous sex.  Georgette Heyer also provides an early example of good, prolific writing in this genre. Beginning in 1921 until her death in 1974, she cranked out about a novel a year in various settings, most of them with a mystery to be solved. None of Heyer's work is as steamy as most current romance novels.

Not surprising is the vast female readership this genre inspires. There are plenty of book clubs, reading groups, conventions, websites and so on. It is a whole other reading world, one I had spurned until now. It may have been longtime superiority on my part but notice what I'm reading now.  Romances are like food: you have to try them to see if you've got the palate.