This post is technically not a review. Rather it’s a rant about the typical novels in the romance genre.
I nearly zapped a historical romance out of my iPad while reading it one evening. It wasn’t badly written. It wasn’t boring. But it annoyed me that for the umpteenth time, the author says her hero has “wide/broad shoulders.” Now, how often must she remind of that? We know, even before we start reading, that he’s well-built (and often handsome), with passion, power (or, perhaps, rage), and a magnetic personality to boot. Besides, he’s right there on the book cover—a big bundle of taut, rippling muscles.
Ever compulsive, I tallied the times the author felt obliged to use “wide or broad shoulders.” In this traditionally published Regency romance, the phrase comes up about thirty times. Too much? Just right? Not enough? Depends on your tolerance level.
For me, it’s at least twenty-five times too many. I don’t mind reading about it once, and can even tolerate it a couple more times. But apart from broad-shoulder-induced tingling, life does go on in a hundred other ways, a great many of them wonderful and consuming. Love does happen in the context of an overarching life.
But maybe, I’m in the minority.
If romance novels do not tell you thirty times or so that the beautiful emerald-eyed heroine with abundant red tresses wants to or does, in fact, melt on the broad shoulders of the chiseled, muscled hero, would you still enjoy reading them? Would you feel cheated? Do you actually skip other parts to get back to such passages?
The language of romance novels, according to Jayne Ann Krentz (in Dangerous Men, Adventurous Women), is “coded language” full of “allusions and resonances that are unrecognizable to outsiders.” This means that throughout a story “eyes sparkle, pulses race, hearts thunder, toes curl, and cheeks burn.”
This unique language of romance answers my question—somewhat. It doesn’t fully satisfy me. So I turn to another compulsive habit. I googled “broad shoulders.”
The search yielded more than 1.3 million items. But contrast that with nearly 4.5 billion for “love” and a mere 125,000 for “heaving bosoms.” Interesting, isn’t it? Easy enough to understand the humongous number of entries for love. Every one of the 7 billion people on earth loves love—although maybe only women (roughly half the world) would admit it. But that paltry number for heaving bosoms worries me a little. Writers and bloggers must care little for it. Why? Because it’s the purview of women?
These google results tell me “broad shoulders” preoccupy men much more than women. Entries on the first three pages bear this out:
1. how to achieve them
2. a song or album with “broad shoulders” in the title.
An amazon.com entry (Broad Shoulders by Bob Hoffman) also caught my eye—a book on how to cultivate said shoulders. If I needed more insight into the allure of broad shoulders, this book’s short blurb gave it to me.
“Broad shoulders are the most outstanding characteristic of a real man. Throughout the ages, broad, well muscled shoulders have constantly been admired. Proof of this is the fact that all men wear coats with padded shoulders.”
This book first came out in 1949. Its target audience is men.
If, indeed, broad shoulders interest more men than women, why brag about it so often in any one romance novel—whose readership is overwhelmingly women?
But ask yourself this: What do you glom on to when you start reading a romance novel? I say it’s the hero. Not the heroine. And how much you like him depends on how closely he comes to your ideal of a Real Man. That man, says Mr. Hoffman, has broad shoulders.
Who cares about heaving bosoms? Broad shoulders feed fantasies admirably—particularly when they come with other throbbing parts. Maybe more than plot lines do. Romance genre novels—whether historical or contemporary—do count as escapist fare. An answer to dreams unrealized. Adult fairy tales to make life a teensy bit more bearable or, better yet, more titillating for a few hours. Broad shoulders are sexy, reliable. Every time the heroine cries or nestles her head on the hero’s shoulders, it helps to be reminded those shoulders are broad/wide.
But what of the legacy of Jane Austen, perhaps, the lady who started it all for so many of us? Her novels are classic, the subject of graduate theses and literary critiques.
Pride and Prejudice makes top ten lists of must-read literature. To so many of us, it’s one of the most compelling love stories ever written. Yet, Elizabeth Bennet is hardly a breathless heroine whose bosom heaves at the sight of Mr. Darcy. And Mr. Darcy rarely seethes with passion. Ms. Austen describes him only once:
“ … fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien, and the report which was in general circulation within five minutes after his entrance, of his having ten thousand a year.”
No mention of broad shoulders. But doesn’t he make you tingle just the same? Tall and handsome is enough. Noble and rich makes Mr. Darcy fantastic. For me, brooding and inner-directed also intrigue.
Faced with Ms. Austen, you could ask: If romance is fantasy, is there room for realism in it? Ms. Austen actually makes that question moot. Victorian art critic John Ruskin said of her: She could
“ …see straight and then report accurately. …It … came natural to her to tell the truth about average humanity as she saw it.”
Other 19th century female writers injected realism into “romance” novels. Elizabeth Gaskell, for instance, whose very popular North and South focuses as much on the problems of industrializing England as it does on the romance between John Thornton and Margaret Hale. Gaskell does describe Mr. Thornton as broad-shouldered—once.
I like complex heroes and heroines, even in romance novels. More like people you meet every day. People with strengths and weaknesses, who deal with the mess of everyday life. Sometimes, our strengths surface only when we meet adversity. And we all falter in one way or another.
My particular weakness is for strong-minded characters, male or female, hero or villain. Intelligent, with great convictions they act upon, undaunted by obstacles. Strong feminist heroines are empowering. They give us hope, make us root for something, and renew our belief in people, particularly when they deal with issues and problems that we, readers, face in our own lives. Weak villains don’t make worthy opponents, and we get more of a thrill from strong heroes as we ride along with them in their adventures, and grow with them as they surmount obstacles.
Broad shoulders don’t have to make up part of that picture. How many broad shoulders are you actually acquainted with, anyway? Me, I see them mostly in movies. Take it from Jane Austen and other writers. You can happily tingle through stories that inject reality into Happy Ever After.
What I want in a love tale—no need for broad shoulders, heaving bosoms, thundering heart, etc.—don’t fit currently accepted tropes and language of the Romance genre. But, why not?