A misguided kind soul is letting me abuse use his laptop to access the Internet for an hour. Yay!
I’m incoherently thrilled because I’ve been relying on nothing but my crummy mobile phone to access the Internet for the past fortnight. And no way of expressing opinions in my usual style. No rambling posts. No prattling comments. No endless tweeting. It was truly a massive dent to my self-absorbed soul.
Anyroad.
A Historical Romance Author Expresses an Opinion
During a Saturday night, I decided to browse through the hard drive of my old travel laptop.
(For some reason, Will put my current laptop and my old travel laptop in wrong computer travel bags the night I left for the national tour. We didn’t realise this until I opened up the bag on the first night and saw I had the old travel laptop. I think I wept in despair. I mean, I hadn’t touched it since roughly 1997. My non-related work, my lifeline to the Net and all? Not there. What it does have: a dead internal dial-up modem, Windows 95, Office 97, old work documents, old games, folders of random stuff, etc.
Oh, and a Netscape browser with URLs still bookmarked. I was hugely amused to see old rom sites: The Romance Journal, Thrill Me Kill Me Kiss Me, Dangerously curvy Reviews, AAR, RRA-L, Rana’s World, Romance Junkies, RBS (Romantic Book Swappers) and my own html site, which I completely forgot until then: A Scot on a Rampage Through Scottish Romancelandia. It features a collection of excerpts from Scottish historical romance novels; each with an accompanying explanation why it didn’t work or what was wrong with it. I actually found it educational and perhaps helpful. I was also surprised to find my explanations non-judgemental and non-critical. Just a simple explanation each time. Unfortunately, I left the laptop at the hotel, so I can’t copy one example for this post. I hope I will later.
Anyroad, Will had no time to travel up to pass on the right laptop. He’s at the moment responsible for the decidedly vigorous mites (W’s lately taken to calling the youngest, ‘Speedster‘ and the oldest, ‘Spyder‘), the ongoing construction work on house and of course, his job. All this while Anna on holiday and me on a national tour. 
He said he’ll cope just fine. I believed him because he was once a househusband who looked after our then newborn oldest. But he and I forgot one little detail: he’s roughly seven years out of practice.
On the night before I left, he said something like: “It’s just a matter of establishing and maintaining a regime.”
But on the second day?
“What the fuck is wrong with him? Why does [youngest] keep throwing books down the toilet? (later) I’m worried about [oldest]. It can’t be normal that he likes staring at his meal until it cools down? (later) [Youngest] threw your hairbrush down the toilet. (later) [Youngest] threw my shoes down the toilet. (later) I’m going to buy a lock for the bathroom door.”
And the third day?
“Why won’t (oldest) eat meat? He’s pushed them aside. He’s not sick, is he? (I explain) Isn’t he kind of too young to be a veggie? (later) [Youngest] stripped himself naked and ran like a banshee in Waitrose. (later) I’ve been thinking, we’re not paying Anna a decent salary. Is 50% increase okay with you?”
And the fourth?
“No worries. My regime’s firmly in place.”
Fifth?
“Where’s your address book? I need Aunt B’s number. (half an hour later) (almost bitterly) She said I should ‘muddy your hands like a proper Scotsman’. Your aunt can be a real **** sometimes.”
Sixth day?
“Me and the monsters have reached an understanding. No worries. Sorted. (roughly two hours later) Do you think they have a memory deficiency?”
Heh. As you see, he’s been rather busy. No chance to drop off my laptop. Hence me clinging to my mobile phone as if it was a lifesaver. And it was.)
During a browse, I stumbled across folders of review drafts (I found one so brutal that I blushed; I really went for this book’s neck), blog drafts, random snippets, odd reminders and photos.
The best find? A snippet of this RRA-L conversation, took place in 1996, between two American historical romance authors: Danelle Harmon and Connie Brockway.
Background info:
If I remember right, Harmon wrote a response — to a thread on the value, validity and worthiness of historical accuracy, I think — in which she admitted that she could no longer enjoy reading US-authored Brit-set historical romance novels. I believe she stated that if authors were to exploit a foreign country or culture to make a living, they should at least try to make an extra effort in their research and portrayals.
This prompted quite a few responses from authors and readers. My favourite were the one between Harmon and Brockway – a snippet you will see below — and the one between Harmon and Margaret Evans Porter (fellow American author who’d also lived in England… well, the isle of Man, to be precise, but according to her blog, she’s now back to living in the US). Unfortunately, I didn’t think to save this one. I may have, but I’m sure it’s disappeared into the vortex of abandoned 3.5″ disks.
Anyhow, I remember that thread as a friendly, fun and – for me – educational debate. Shame I didn’t save the entire thread, though.
Of course, it goes without saying that I haven’t tried to obtain both authors’ permission to repost this. No need to, I felt, as it took place on a public mailing list. Having said that, please do bear it in mind this conversation took place in 1996 — so their views may have changed since then.
I think the newsgroup layout format may be confusing to some not familiar with the Usenet, so I’m adding the colour blue, to the quoted parts of Brockway’s response, to clarify who wrote what.
Newsgroups: bit.listserv.rra-l
Date: 1996/01/26—————————-Original message—————————-
“Connie Brockway” writes:> Okay, you ex-patriot you, how do we handle this situation? I love traveling
> in England but I can’t move there, even for a season, so I must rely on
> impressions and information squeezed into my yearly ten day excursions.
> Since I am the world’s best tourist, those are going to be touristy. And I’m
> never going to “get it right.” ;<Connie!!! Good to see you again.
First off, perhaps I should have inserted a disclaimer in my original post, that I was not tarring all of the books with the same feather. And I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t always “get it right,” either. I, too, have made mistakes that, upon enlightenment, have later caused me no small degree of embarrassment. I can think of a certain sunrise in TAKEN BY STORM, for instance <>. Live and (hopefully), learn…
Some time ago, there was a discussion on this list as to why (American-written/published) historical romances are not popular here in the UK, and why they are not even available in the average bookstore. You don’t see clinch covers at all here, and the only (American-published) historical romance authors to be found over here are the very big names, i.e., Lavyrle Spencer, Amanda Quick (sometimes), Diana Gabaldon, etc., and even these can be difficult to find. Romances that are set in Britain are very popular with American readers, but they don’t fly, here, and I have given much thought and speculation as to why they do not.
At the time of the discussion, it was suggested that perhaps the reason the British don’t provide a lucrative market for historical romances set in Britain (and written by Americans), is because these books don’t “ring true” for them. At the time, I had a vague, rather puzzled understanding of why this might be so, but not a real grasp of it; now, after living here for nearly 15 months, I think I can begin to understand perfectly. It has nothing to do with travel and touristy details; it has everything to do with cultural differences and attitudes, not only between the Americans and the British, but between various regions and societal classes within Britain herself. There are subtle (and not so subtle), but very different ways of thinking between the British and the Americans.
I am not claiming that I’ll always or ever be able to get it just right, either; nor, am I claiming to be able to “think like an Englishwoman” — yet — but my attitudes and ideas *have* undergone considerable change and re-aligning since I’ve moved here, and having changed so, I can understand just what sort of things the average British reader is going to find annoying about so many of the American-written romances, and now some of those same things are beginning to annoy me. Whether I like it or not, I find myself stuck between two cultures, absorbing the opinions and attitudes and way of thinking, of both.
Don’t even get me started on say, the issue of declawing cats, or the use of the emergency brake, or the way a woman of influence or power feels she should dress, or any number of other things that illustrate the very real differences between “Brit-think” and “Yank-think.” <>
> Now, here I may “cause a conversation”, but I don’t believe American romance readers need detailed authentication of every aspect of their English books. We have ideas, very romantic and probably fallacious ideas, of what certain eras in English history are like and we don’t want them upset. And they shouldn’t be if they serve the purpose of the romance novel.
Again, I’m referring to something less tangible; I don’t believe American romance readers need “detailed authentication” of every aspect of their English books either, Connie.
But I do think that authors, regardless of where they’re from and where they set a book, regardless of what genre (or lack of one) that they write in, owe it to their readers to try to get that which they’re writing about, right. Failure, for whatever reason, to do so is not only a cop-out, it adds fuel to the fire of our genre’s detractors, who are glad of any excuse to abuse and ridicule it.
Personally, I don’t feel that historical (or contemporary, for that matter) truths should be changed just to suit readers’ whims or preconceived (but erroneous) beliefs. Yes, life in other ages was very different from what it was now; people were much less cleanly, and things like sanitation, hygiene, dentistry and medicine were, compared to today’s standards, still in the dark ages. I’d be the first to agree with you that these sort of details are not romantic, and don’t need to be included in our books in order to satisfy the requirements of realism. Things weren’t a whole lot different in America, either, so this really isn’t even a “British issue,” or something that I was even referring to when I wrote my original post.
> What was my point? Oh yeah, that in some case verisimilitude can justifiably take a back seat to atmosphere.
My gripe wasn’t with respect to atmosphere, which can indeed be captured by a tourist to any country or setting. Specifically, my complaint was targeted at the number of books I see that show more of an American, than British, way of thinking in regards to the British class system.
For example: the number of books out there in which a British nobleman falls in love with a woman of no social consequence — and marries her. This concept becomes even more far- fetched when the woman in question is a penniless foreigner. The British aristocracy was, and is, a very elite and exclusive group — they stick to their own, and are not accepting of “just anybody off the street” when it comes to admitting such individuals into their ranks; in historical times, this precept was even more true.
I do not argue the fact that a few isolated instances are or were possible or even happened. I do not argue the fact that the idea of some dashing and handsome English lord sweeping Miss Nobody off her feet and marrying her fulfills one of the highest romantic fantasies, as I do respect and recognise the attractiveness of this “Cinderella appeal.”
However, when it comes right down to it, such a thing happening is highly unlikely. Is it any wonder then, getting back to that long-ago discussion, why a British reader (who has been born into, and understands, the class system here very well) might fling such a book against the wall when presented with some penniless orphan from the backwoods of Kentucky who suddenly finds herself married to the Duke of Whatever?
I know that these sort of plots are very successful, and appealing. I don’t presume to challenge anyone’s reading tastes, or their right to read or write them. Hey, to each their own. I’m just saying that for *me*, books that no longer fit my picture of Britain, and British life, have fallen into the realm of “wall-bangers” — no matter how well they’re written.
- Danelle Harmon,
Oxfordshire, England.
Books
I forgot to bring along my e-book reader so I went to the nearest charity shop, and picked up some random romance novels. All Mills & Boon.
- Cupboard Love (1975) – Roberta Leigh (quite an interesting read: heroine criticises hero for being “weak and cowardly” on “hiding behind a woman he doesn’t love to escape from a woman he loves”, and she’s really catty about — and towards — the other woman, whom she characterises as a ”desperate gold-digger” for marrying a fifty-year-old millionaire. Never mind the fact heroine herself has fallen for a millionaire banker, who’s at least fifteen years older than her. O, hypocrisy is thy name. At least this one contains quotations from Shakespeare, Rupert Brooke and a few other notable literary figures. Seriously though, it’d whipped up my appetite to read more 1970s-era category romances.)
- Not His Kind of Woman (1992) – Roberta Leigh (DNF)
- And Then Came Love (1954) – Roberta Leigh (haven’t read it yet)
Argh. I’m out of time as the luncheon hour is now over. *sob* I will try to finish this post when I return home tomorrow evening.
Until then, cheerio!