I was going to leave this comment at her blog, but I feel it’s too long. I’d already posted a horribly long and dull response to RRRJes’s latest blog post (I’d delete my response if there was a function) this morning, so I’m moving it to here.
From historical author Courtney Milan’s latest blog post: Historical ROMANCE
“But I also don’t think that the history is the point of my books, either. Or, rather: I think the past is a vehicle for the present.”
I’m going to ramble off the track a bit. For me, history – or rather, a historical setting – is basically a living character that influences other characters including heroine and hero, so it has to be the point of historical romances. Otherwise what’s the point? I could read contemporary romances if I didn’t want history.
I have mixed feelings about wallpaper historical romances, though.
It’s not fun when an author uses history as an excuse for her characters to do whatever she wants them to do, or to relay a so-called “message” (a serious pet peeve for me, particularly where Scottish historical romances are concerned because half the time authors didn’t know what the heck they were talking about, re: Scottish politics).
I generally don’t mind lack of historical details, but I tend to wanting to bang my head against a wall when a wallpaper historical still fucks it up.
For example, I’m amused when an author has hero and heroine shagging all over the place at a manor or whatnot. I keep thinking, “Oh, I bet servants had fun watching them doing that.” Servants were so part of a residence that it’s hard for me to forget them. And yet it seems 80% of historical romance authors forget their presence unless a scene calls for them. I honestly don’t see how they could forget, especially those who claim they take historical research so seriously.
How about a heroine wanting to be best friends with servants? I roll eyes at that every time. Servants tended to be really snobbish and quite fanatical with drawing boundaries. Heroine wanting to be friends with servants is akin to a CEO wanting to be best friends with a team of office cleaners*. I really don’t get why authors want their heroines to be oh-my-god-be-my-best-friend! with a servant. Not only it’s atypical, it’s patronising.
But I digress.
The only things I care about when I read a historical romance:
- dialogue (of all historical romances I read this year, Sherry Thomas is probably the only British-set historical author at the moment who has a good ear or at least, feel for it. There is a couple of Americanisms, but nothing biggie and constant.)
- heroine or hero’s behaviour is natural, according to the socio-political context of a time period and their upbringing**.
- no sickeningly “unique” names.
- it heeds basic history details that every school kid knows. (I still can’t get over one historical romance that treated James VI of Scotland and James I of England as two different men.)
- a reasonably good portrayal of social norms (I almost keeled over in shock when the heroine formally addresses the hero by his surname until they marry in Sherry Thomas’s Not Quite a Husband. I was so fucking thrilled, to be honest.)
- a good and convincing plot.
- it hasn’t a hot button. Two buttons that set me off very easily: A) a wealthy heroine as an oh-so-noble saviour of the poor or working class? I won’t even go there. Frankly, it angers me. B) a gross misunderstanding of Scottish politics (English vs. Scots? Give me a fucking break. It’s not that simple nor easily defined.)
Everything else? I’m not that bothered. 
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*I do wonder why authors do it when they don’t for contemporary romances set in corporate companies or luxurious homes? I mean, those places have teams of cleaners, don’t they? Why don’t we see contemporary heroines wanting to be best friends with office cleaners? That’s why I find this in historical romances so annoying.
**clarification: I’m never happy when readers or reviewers say “They would NEVER do that!” There’s a difference between human behaviour and bucking against a set of social norms, e.g.
- If an unmarried and titled heroine (at a marriage age) has a lover when she meets a hero (or has him as a lover), I’m fine with it***.
- If a heroine – a daughter of a non-titled person – openly snubs a duke at a society ball, I’m not happy because a) it’s B.S., b) it’s not clever nor admirable, and c) it’s vulgar.
*** Not all unmarried wealthy/titled young women were virgins by the time they married (some social historians and sex historians say the more powerful a young woman’s family is, more likely she’d have had sexual experiences and occasionally with her parents’ knowledge). It’s a serious case of ‘turn a blind eye’. A circle of certain people tended to protect each other, too; usually from other circles and all ‘outsiders’ even if some of those outsiders were rich or titled. Politics, eh.
It’s generally less-powerful [read: middle class, genteel or social climbing] parents who were deeply concerned about their daughters being alone with men they didn’t know because they simply couldn’t afford a scandal, putting it simply. And the circle would never protect them because they were outsiders. It’s rather odd, but that’s how it mostly was.
Yes to everything! Especially the servants. Not only are they everywhere, the fact that they are everywhere means that norms of privacy were pretty different. But then in these books people also have the most amazingly modern conversations. Not just in terms of modern language, but topics, so I think norms of privacy are pretty much out the window all round.
And yes to the vulgar behavior. In Duran’s Bound By Your Touch, the heroine and the hero have an argument at a formal dinner. This is supposed to show us how independent-minded she is or something. But we’ve also been told that she is concerned about her sister’s marital prospects, and yet she insults a Viscount in his own house, at his parent’s (the Earl and Countess’s) dinner.
@Sunita
Yes, you said it all. Especially privacy.
Actually, that’s something that needs to be aired as a topic because I do believe authors and readers generally forget this. Or at least, not aware of it. In fact, many textbooks and popular history books I read didn’t mention it.
I wonder if there’s a book chronicling the social evolution of the concept privacy through time periods? It’d be seriously awesome if there were one.
Ouch.