Dangerous books for everyone!

Romance novels are not just dangerous books for girls

But Maya, people sometimes ask me, how are novels about love with happy endings dangerous books? This came up in a recently chat with Caroline Linden and Meena Jain at a virtual event hosted by the Ashland Public Library (you can watch it here if you missed it) and ever since I’ve been thinking about who romance novels are a danger to and why. 

Dangerous, in that they have the power to disrupt or to create change. 

Novels were originally thought to be dangerous to young lady readers because the books gave them wild “ideas” about their own humanity.  

From the early days of the novel in the 1700s through today, people were concerned that novels gave young lady readers (the predominate audience for these books from the beginning) ideas that women were interesting in their own right and capable of more than just living subserviently to the men in their lives. The novels showed these readers whole worlds beyond the drawing room and highlighted heroines who made radical choices about their own futures. In the early days of the novel, choosing to marry for love was the most radical thing imaginable. 

It did this in a society that relied on female subservience to keep the engine running, whether it was as a household servant, a wife, a mother, or a daughter married off to secure family wealth and status. 

Tellingly, someone actually said the quiet part out loud, saying novel reading makes women “unfit for the lot they are cast.” 

I think romance novels are also dangerous books for boys because they show that emotional vulnerability is heroic. 

Romance novels show that it is not only okay for men to be emotionally vulnerable, it is heroic and essential to happy ever after. And that’s the opposite of what we often teach our boys. We can often tell young boys “don’t cry!” or “tough it out!” and from that they learn to stifle their feelings, especially those of hurt, discomfort, or vulnerability. 

Romance novel heroes can be as stereotypically masculine as they come—the muscles! The hair! The status! The money! But it’s only when they can explore the full depth and range of their emotions, only when they are brave enough to be vulnerable that happy ever after is in reach…and not just for themselves, but everyone else in their fictional world.  

This is only dangerous for boys and men in that it makes them also “unfit for the lot they are cast” in a world that wants them to disassociate from their emotions so that they can dominate everything and everyone around them. 

I think romance novels are dangerous to a patriarchal status quo that relies on women’s unpaid work and lack of autonomy. 

Sometimes when we talk about romance novels, we need to talk about the invention of agriculture and monogamy. Basically, when folks started farming they wanted to accumulate land and wealth and pass it on to their heirs, which meant they had to control access to land (and wealth) and control women’s reproduction to make sure the kids were really theirs. Hence the big deal about a woman’s virginity, about monogamy (for women). Women’s unpaid labor at home was and is essential to keeping this system secure and constant. Venturing outside of the home was a risk to their “purity” and female financial independence meant the whole thing would come crashing down. 

When the novel came along, it was quickly adopted by women—as both authors and readers. It quickly became a vehicle to show female characters with autonomy and agency interacting with the world beyond the home. See above about giving a woman ideas. It also gave them a way to earn money; novel writing makes for an excellent work from home side hustle. 

And the act of reading one is a time consuming activity that cuts into the time for unpaid work. It’s hard to read a novel and make dinner at the same time, or put kids to bed, or shovel snow or do laundry.* Novel reading is a momentary rebellion where work stops for personal pleasure and leisure. In a culture that wants us to be always on and to always be productive, it’s radical. 

*Audiobooks allow one to combine chores with storytelling and escape. It’s still a beautiful way to find fun while still getting the job done. It is still an insistence that one deserves joy and pleasure. 

I think romance novels can be dangerous to white supremacy. 

Perpetuating white supremacy relies on making people of color seem “other” or inferior. But stories by authors of color, about characters of color, make it impossible for them to seem other or inferior. Especially when those stories show them as fully developed characters, experiencing joy and finding love. As with those first lady novel readers, the message is sent that they are valuable, interesting, worthy of love and happy ever after. Which can be a contrast to messages we often get about marginalized groups from the news, schools or society at large. 

When we read fiction, we connect with the characters. We feel their feelings, smell what they smell, see what they see. This is how fiction works in the brain. Romance novels can help build these connections and erase a notion of “us” and “them.” (Psst: this is why they’re banning books celebrating diversity.)

But the genre has the capacity to reinforce the patriarchy and white supremacy too. 

If we make rules (unwritten or not) that love stories are only between a white man and a white woman, then we are telling ourselves over and over that’s who gets to love and be loved. If we tell love stories that only ever end in marriage and babies, then we are reinforcing who gets to love and be loved (see above) and what it should look like. Even if it might not feel like happy ever after for a lot of people. 

Sometimes I take it a step further and think that if we only show virgin heroines with ambition to marry and start families, we’re missing an opportunity to show the full range of interests, ambitions and opportunities possible of what a woman could want. (I say this as someone who is happily married with a family). Or if we only show heroes as dukes, cops and billionaires, we’re showing that status and wealth is what makes a man lovable. We can’t possibly mean that. 

A focus on “what sells” is gatekeeping. It’s something I—and perhaps other authors—have internalized. If you want to be published in historical romance, you must have a duke…the heroine must be young and pure…they must have a church wedding and many babies.

We also have the capacity to disrupt by rewriting and redefining who gets a happy ever after and what that HEA looks like. 

Above all, romance novels are about equality.

They are about two (or more!) perfectly matched people finding a mutually satisfying bond together. The characters are different, but compatible. In fact, the more “opposite” they are, the more fun it is to watch them attract. No one is better than the other, but they are certainly better together. 

We live in a world that relies on hierarchy, that relies on constant production, that demands winners and losers, that wants us at odds with each other. How lovely to take a break from all that to experience stories of people finding love, pleasure and equality together.