I Hate Romance Novels

930 Words2 Pages

I Hate Romance Novels

Let me get one thing straight from the start: I am a huge believer in romance---in the sex you can't get enough of and the person you can't stop thinking about, in fantasies about sharing the dominatrix whip and then some ice cream afterwards, in being turned on by arguments about Lacan and Freud and fights about existentialism and religious doctrine.

That's my idea of romance. I prefer the "give and take" to the "giving of the soul." I prefer the knowledgeable lover to the frightened virgin. I prefer a man who lets me take control once in awhile.

I think this is why I cannot abide romance novels.

I have tried. I mean, hey, I like smut. I like porn. I like comic books. I even like inane horror films and poorly made Shannon Tweed flicks. I appreciate them for the shiny plastic mental raincoats that they are. I even appreciate Fabio---in a plastic Ken-doll sort-of-way.

So, I tried to like romance novels. Well, let me amend that: First, I tried to read a romance novel.

In the first chapter, the "hero" screwed the maid in the downstairs parlor, freshened up a bit, and then welcomed his new female ward to the household. Now, given my generic knowledge of the date movie---and cross-applying clichés to the romance novel---I knew the following:

1.) The ward was going to be shocked and appalled at his libertine behavior, and, yet, be strangely attracted to it.

2.) The hero was going to be shocked and appalled at the revelations of his own libertine behavior, and, yet, be strangely attracted to his young ward, a mere "child," of course.

3.) Her innocence was going to win him over.

4.) His arrogance was really hiding a broken heart that she could fix, and, therefore, win him over.

...

... middle of paper ...

...

G.) And, finally, why is everything so difficult? I know a "relationship" is right when it's easy and comfortable and still has sexual spark. But, without angst and drama and fights and bodice rippings galore, can the people in these novels really survive? After the thrill is gone, can you really imagine the lord of the manor and the young female ward having anything at all to talk about beyond her decoration of the downstairs parlor? Please. He'll be back to the maid in less than a year.

So, take back your romance novels and give me the Romantics that I love instead: William Blake, William Wordsworth, Walter Scott, Samuel Taylor Coleridge. They may have been pompous and arrogant, but one could say their tinges of misogyny and male superiority were products of time, place and ego. The mostly female-authored, "modern" romance novel, sadly, has no such excuse.

Open Document