The Naming Of The Known
Not so long ago (I think it may have been last week) Candy and Sarah (of Smart Bitches fame) and I were engaged in a furious round of emailing about misogyny in romance novels. It all started out with the news that Harlequin and NASCAR were getting into the same bed. (No crash, no drug, no alcohol romances. Whee.) I immediately choked on my Cheerios, screaming that an industry like NASCAR that portrays women as buxom hangers for skimpy wet t-shirts and very little else is not fit company for a business tailored to and driven by women.
Candy immediately pointed out the strain of misogyny in romance novels–let’s start with the proliferation of sheikhs in the eighties, not to mention the boardroom-secret-baby-millionaire flood. Oh, and who can forget the “forced seduction” of the seventies? (Still going on today, I might add.) Sarah chimed in with the point that misogynistic romance is “embracing old power structures and spinning them into sexual fantasy.” Sarah pointed out that choosing to follow traditional gender roles is no less of a free choice than choosing to abandon them or create new ones–with the important caveat from Candy that we’re not sure how much of a free choice it is, if women don’t know there are other choices available, or are raised to denigrate such other choices.
I decided to chew on this for a while, finding it juicy mental food. And this morning, as I was stumbling to the coffee maker, it occured to me that misogyny in romance novels could be part of the transformative nature of art.
Let’s face it, we live in a woman-hating society. It’s not conscious most of the time, but most of our social institutions and cultural weight is so steeped in patriarchy and the vision of women as broodmares or dangerous harlots that it’s very hard to escape. Case in point? I was watching America’s Most Wanted recently, a segment on an accused sexual predator in Texas. (He got national airtime because of his alleged habit of assaulting young men.) A woman onscreen made a statement to the effect of: well, when you’re a woman you expect to be assaulted, you learn to live with it. We just don’t ever think of men as victims.
Talk about choking on your Cheerios. You could have lit a bonfire with my fiery indignation. But she’s right. The fear of assault is pervasive, and if you’re female in this culture odds are you are subconsciously aware of this every moment of the day. Such a deep and wide shared experience, of course, bleeds over into art.
What if the misogyny in romance novels is a feminist statement?
No, really. Hang with me here. Remember in the Fifties, when there were things you just didn’t talk about? (Like incest? Peyton Place blew the lid off that one, didn’t it?) The Sixties were not just a revolution in social and sexual mores, they gave credence to the idea that you could speak about certain issues–war, women’s rights, sexual politics, drug use–openly. To name something is to claim power over it, and also to strip it of its power to hurt you. The unnamed monster is the most frightening. (Remember The Wizard of Earthsea? Man, I love that book.)
What if the misogyny in romance novels is the naming of the monster? What if it provides a framework for us to draw the teeth and analyze the venom of that particular one-eyed serpent? (Ha ha. Cheap shot, I know.) What if the HEAs of sheikh-secret baby-lonely millionaire-boardroom virgins are the equivalent of a binding spell? Which, whether or not you believe in spells, does provide a powerful psychological method for overcoming fear and finding a solution.
Art is first and foremost the act of transforming the world. When we look at a piece of art we are sharing the artist’s vision, delivered within the framework of material constraint the artist has chosen. (Painters are constrained by visual forms and the physical quality of paint and canvas, writers are constrained by grammar and convention. Six of one, half a dozen of the other.) This is a powerful act, no matter how small a place artists have in society. Art is explosive because the act of transforming the world spreads like a virus. That’s why fascist societies sooner or later starve and shoot their artists, even those who are loyal to the regime.
Romance novels are art, too. If men bought and read them they’d be considered more highbrow. But because it’s women shelling out their hard-earned cash, they’re considered plebian and lowbrow. Don’t get me started. Stay on target, Lili.
I am certain someone will say, if that’s the case, one should have no problem with NASCAR objectifying women. Isn’t it the same principle? No, it most emphatically isn’t, because first of all, rednecks making left turns all day ain’t art, and second, NASCAR is a boy’s game despite all its female fans. In romance novels the female’s sexual need and experience is central; another reason for its denigration as a bastard pink cousin of Real Literature. The romance novel states unequivocally that there is an alternative to lying back and thinking of England or of full quivers. *shiver* As a vehicle for feminine sexual liberation, it’s hard to get any more radical than the idea that a woman’s sexual enjoyment is not only pleasant but necessary in a happy relationship. Pursuant to this notion is the corollary that if a woman’s pleasure is a necessary part, the woman is responsible for it and therefore owns her body. If the woman owns her body…well, that’s an earthshaking revelation in a society built on the idea of women as just another type of property. Heady stuff.
I could just be over-analyzing, as I am wont to do. But I really think women are too smart to lick the boot on their necks. It seems to me that romance novels are popular for a reason, and the strain of misogyny in them is more properly a strain of discourse naming the monster of woman-hating in our society for what it is, and making it a toothless specter. Or at least taming it, as the temple harlot tamed Enki. (Then Gilgamesh had to go and get him killed. Sigh.)
What do you think?
February 27th, 2007 at 2:28 pm
*delurking* I love this turn on it — and I’m just fly-by posting because I’ve got to get something out in the next hour (so why am I reading a blog post, one might ask, but won’t) … but I think (hope?) you’re right. And I hate to think the HEA and sexual empowerment that we see in romance novels is a function of that widespread misogyny, and all of the readers and writers just participating in it (although maybe some do). Certainly it can be interpreted that way on a very simplistic level (”it just supports the idea that women need a man to be happy, blah blah”) but that seems to disregard the journey of the novel, and focuses only on the result (again, in a simplistic manner).
February 27th, 2007 at 6:23 pm
Hey, Queen o’ mine, have you seen this?
http://redwyne.com/2007/02/nascar-harlequin-style.html/
February 28th, 2007 at 3:19 am
Romance novels aka lust in the dust aka bodice rippers: schlock is schlock. I get 2nd hand novels to find new writers (I’d rather read a book than housekeep, sigh, and it shows). I feel sorry for the trees hacked down for that pulp, about the only thing the they are good for is target practice…skip the 22 and give it the Glock. I like my men to have a brain between their ears as for the dangly bits? Well, I’m not Mae West and I sure don’t need a stud muffin if that’s all he’s got!
When I bang my butt against the butt of my male cohert, I know he’s passed his gun range qualifiers and can think more about survival than about how to “protect” me. That kind of idiocy/idiot gets tossed out on the karate mat.
Romance novels are a slam to real people, both men and women. There is so much more to life. I thought the days of wham bam, thank you ma’m were over.
Time to shred another romance novel for the hamster cage.
February 28th, 2007 at 9:38 am
Hi…….I think you have a point. In all those books by the end the male has shifed his perspective through the overwhelming love of his one true love, etc. Also as you read these books you may go through a time where you read a certain style & then one day you realize that it annoys you to no end or that you spend too much time booing a character.
What it means that I like books with bite & mayhem….I will not even begin to delve into.
As we go so does our appreciation of the possibilities (all of them) & just because we may like to peruse it on paper does not mean we would like to live it. There have been many a character that were right for each other but no where near being right for me. Maybe if I hadn’t met them (virtually) then maybe I would have been more willing to try out that relationship in real life. Who knows.
Thankfully we have choices even when it seems we do not.
March 1st, 2007 at 8:59 am
Excellent post
I’ve long thought that romance was a form of inoculation against dissatisfaction from social conditioning and that it is increasingly taking on a lottery mentality — that the boar/bore you married may turn out to be the rich, sensitive, successful man or he may conveniently die and you’ll met the real man of your dreams at his funeral or on your way home from picking up the life insurance policy proceeds. It quietly tells us to be complacent — to bank on wish fulfillment without taking our own steps at liberation.
March 1st, 2007 at 10:12 pm
Good post! And I’m not just saying that because I totally agree with you. I’ve long thought the trend for super-alpha heroes was an exploration of the truth that most women know, but few openly discuss: loving the wrong man can kill you.
The majority of female homicide victims are the wives or intimate acquaintances of their killers. And all questions of domestic abuse and violence aside, women who don’t marry are healthier and live longer.
Is it any wonder the stories women write and purchase for themselves so often feature deadly, monstrous, slutty men tamed by love?
March 5th, 2007 at 2:47 pm
Hi Lilith,
Disagree, disagree. For me, misogyny in romance is just plain misogyny. We do live in a patriarchal society, but please tell me how creating a thirty-five year old sex-therapist virgin character does anything to counteract this. How about writing about a thirty-five year old sex therapist (who doesn’t look like Dr. Ruth’s little sister) who is competent, though worldly in sexual matters, knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to go toe to toe with the alpha guy in the next office, who, incidentally, doesn’t think she’s a slut cause she’s done it before she laid eyes on him? How about presenting an idea of women that is both real and relevant?
Your comments led me to do a lot of thinking (and blogging). Thanks for the commentary.
March 6th, 2007 at 12:20 pm
Interesting points, and I want to touch a little more on AV’s ‘wish fulfillment’ factor. We are raised to believe, despite whatever our parents ( or grandparents) did in the sixties, that marriage is the ultimate goal. Too many women get married and find that after the honeymoon is over, that their marriage does not meet their emotional needs.
Divorce is not a stigma any longer, but it is difficult choice to make. One that does not come with any guarantees that life will be better. Whether there are children to consider or financial issues (the house, who moves out, ect) divorce is a scary business, and pushing for one just because your husband has forgotten that foreplay is more than rolling over, or doesn’t roll over at all anymore, just doesn’t seem worth it.
So we live an exciting new relationship with our heroine, one that ends with the marriage we thought we were getting. And we can have our fantasy as many ways as there are titles on the booksellers’ shelves. There’s a reason why 52% of all new book sales monthly are Romance. There are a lot of emotionally and sexually dissatisfied women out there.
Oh yes, I definately think series romance novels are a form of emotional placebo.
Do I think that’s all they are? Hell no. Not anymore. But I’ve babbled through my lunch break. Must get back to playing with hot metal.
Lassar
P.S. As to Shamhat, I find it entertaining that the translations always call her ‘the harlot Shamhat’ every time she is mentioned. They don’t call Enkidu ‘the hairy barbarian Enkidu’… Double standard, or just that all the little manly gods forfend that you should focus on the fact that it took one woman to do what a bunch of men couldn’t?
March 8th, 2007 at 6:09 am
I am a NASCAR tartlet I admit it. I never would have thought I’d love a sport that was all about turning left, but love it I do. And I guess I don’t agree that NASCAR portrays women in a negative way. Because how can they portray women in any way when there have been very few female drivers to portray in any light. Open wheel has Danica Patrick who has won some races and gotten some acclaim and mostly for the fact that she is a hot woman. But heck she gets paid. The more notoreity she gets, the more sponsors she gets, and the more money she makes. However, that is the standard for ALL drivers. Dale Earnhardt Jr does the same thing. He’s a good looking fellow with all the southern charm just oozing from his strawberry blonde head, and plenty of the women fans, drool over his red jumpsuited self. And I don’t agree that NASCAR drivers are a bunch of redneck buffoons, a lot of the drivers have degrees in engineering so that they don’t just drive fast and turn left, they know their cars and how to drive them.
But having someone a part of NASCAR in the romance shouldn’t change a thing. If you love romance, you’ll love it. Janet Evanovich’s Alexandra Barnaby series has a NASCAR driver as the hero, yet, he’s not the one with brains, he is pretty much the brawn and even that can be debated. Barney is the one who likes to play around inside an engine, and she’s the one that I feel has the brains. So it depends on how the author’s view NASCAR drivers and how they write these stories. It is the author that creates the characters after all, you can take from real life, but ultimately it boils down to how an author feels towards their characters.
So all I have to say is Crank in Up! And give me some characters that I will fall in love with, whether they be vamps, were’s, demons, or NASCAR drivers. As long as they compel me, I will read them.