On the Matter of Romance

 

On the Matter of Romance

Following on from the month of Sad-Singles-Sod-Off day(otherwise known as Valentine’s Day to the masses, though quite what a Romanbishop ministering to persecuted Christians would make of what’s become of hisday is an interesting thought), I thought I might address my own feelings onthe matter of romantic entanglement in fiction. As I suspect may be obviousfrom the previous sentence, I think it’s fair to say I am not, and never willbe, one of life’s hopeless romantics. In fact, I verge on not being a romanticat all and it is certainly not my favoured genre.

I mean, I have written romance. I wrote a number of couple-basedfanfics around my favourite characters in the Harry Potter series, though theywere definitely more character pieces than anything, and of course, there’sDullard and Pleasance. And I did to write a purely passion-based attraction in aprevious novel attempt that will probably never see the light of day now, butit was mostly to prove to the heroine what a terrible idea basing her feelings onsaid attraction was when he turned out to be an absolute bastard and she movedon to the much nicer, more considerate man I had lined up for her in later booksthat remain incomplete.

But it does seem very much that my idea of what a romanceshould be seems to differ greatly from what society believes a romance shouldbe. I don’t, for example, write sex scenes as I believe such matters are bestleft to the preferences and imaginations of the reader. I very rarely writeanything that could even be classed as passion. And the simple reason is this.

More often than not, passionate romances make me cross.Because everyone just behaves so stupidly.

Allow me to explain. The simple fact is I seem to be toolevel headed and cynical to get lost in the feelings of romantic passion infiction. I have always been of the view, as I believe I mentioned in myprevious blog about my shipping choices, that lust-based romance between twopeople who barely know each other and more often than not don’t like each otheris a very short trip to a very unhappily ever after – after all, passion won’tlast forever and what will be left when it’s gone other than a person you don’tlike? I can’t bring myself to enjoy passionate, desperate, yearningI-must-be-with-them-or-I-will-expire-forthwith Twilightesque daftness in acouple – I just find myself thinking all involved are being really silly.

Take Exhibit A, the greatest romance of the ages, Romeo andJuliet. The story of two barely acquainted teenagers who develop a raging crushon each other that gets both of them and several other people killed. And thenthere’s Exhibit B, the great romantic film of modern times, Titanic. A filmwhere a young woman causes the death of her lover by jumping off a lifeboat (andalso sacrificing the chance for some other person to have her seat and escape)onto a sinking ship as she can’t bear to be parted from a beloved who wouldhave stood a much better chance of survival without her. In fact, with her safeon the lifeboat, he could have climbed on that piece of wood, been out of thewater and probably survived to be picked up on the lifeboat and be reunitedwith her on the Carpathia. But that’s not romantic, is it?

Because if I am anything, I am, like Flirt, a practicalromantic. I like characters who think and consider what is best rather thanplunging in headfirst based on ephemeral passions. I like romance that is basedaround friendship and enjoying each other’s company, things in common andshared jokes and knowing a person inside and out and loving what you find. Forme, Dullard and Pleasance worked because they saw in each other things no oneelse really bothered to see and grew attracted to each other based on thesethings and not on what the other looked like. And perhaps that doesn’t make forsurging passion and groaning lust and desperate longing – but I bet it doesmake for a relationship that lasts. And that is true romance to me.