Which one of these things is not like the other?
- Mystery
- Science Fiction
- Fantasy
- Historical
- Thriller
- Bodice-ripping romance
Why does “romance” always get an adjective (usually “bodice-ripper”) from the mainstream press when other genres don’t? Is there some other kind of romance that I don’t know about?
Edited to add: I am not trying to rehash old debates (asking why romances get no respect, etc.). I am just making note of three things about the term that interest me:
1. Romance novels are always referred to using the same (derogatory) adjective. I wonder, if the dismissive view of romance is as uniform as it appears to be, why is it necessary to use any adjective at all. Why not just say, for example, “Allende has not written literature, she has merely written a romance.”, where everyone understands romance to mean “crap”? What would “romance”, simpliciter, be to these critics?
2. The adjective “bodice-ripper” is used much more widely than I thought, not just to refer to melodramatically sexy elements of non-romance fiction, but to non-fiction, and even to non-books, i.e. things like dance, art exhibits, and political imbroglios. I am merely pointing that out.
3. Point number 1 makes me think it’s possibly a good thing we still have an adjective, albeit a demeaning one, since it opens a space for folks like to Mary Bly (Eloisa James) [link at end] to distance themselves from “bodice rippers” while embracing the label “romance writer.”
Here are some examples of what I mean:
In a New York times article last week about the growth of e-books,
At Harlequin Enterprises, the Toronto-based publisher of bodice-ripping romances, Malle Vallik, director for digital content and interactivity, said she expected sales of digital versions of the company’s books someday to match or potentially outstrip sales in print.
It looks like NYT writers have some trouble coming up with new terms, because here is a 1998 article on the same topic:
When [the e-reader] does arrive, it is expected to cost $1,400 to $1,600, a rich vessel indeed for bodice-ripping romance novels.
Here’s a review of a 1999 Isabel Allende book, Daughter of Fortune:
The resulting book reads like a bodice-ripper romance crossed with Judith Krantz, with plenty of feminist and multicultural seasoning thrown in to update the mix.
A 1995 article on Tom Clancy:
Mr. Clancy has become a literary factory churning out support-the-military thrillers with the formulaic regularity of bodice-ripping romances.
Here’s a wacky question: Why doesn’t it occur to this journalist write: “churning out support-the-military thrillers with the formulaic regularity of support-the-military thrillers.”?
“Bodice-ripper” is used in all kinds of reviews, not just reviews of books:
This is a quote from a Variety review of the 2008 Baz Luhrmann film Australia:
In order to make a Hollywood epic of big-budget scale and scope, Baz Luhrmann had to embellish that core, adding a western cattle drive, a bodice-ripping romance, wicked villains, an air battle and CG effects. How could any movie sustain all that?
This from a 1999 NYT review of a performance by the Neil Greenburg dance troupe:
Justine Lynch has a finicky sensuality straight out of a bodice-ripper romance novel.
Danielle Steel, who recently launched her own website, was referred to as a “Bodice-Ripping Blogger” in the New Yorker.
Sometimes “bodice-ripper” is used as a noun, to refer to the whole genre. I’ll be nice and call this synecdoche.
For example, in the following two reviews, authors are praised for avoiding the temptation to slide into bodice-ripperdom…
A NYT review of Anne Rice’s 2008 novel, Christ the Lord: the Road to Cana
“The Road to Cana” perches on the brink of blasphemy. But it succeeds in treating Yeshua’s humanity as an essential part of his divinity. That humanity nearly takes the form of bodice-ripping (“The man in me knew that we were alone, and the man in me knew that I could have this woman”), now that Ms. Rice’s confidence about her daunting subject allows some of her familiar proclivities to emerge.
A New Yorker review of 2007′s Loving Frank by Nancy Horan:
In her first novel, Horan, viewing the relationship from Mamah’s perspective, does well to avoid serving up a bodice-ripper for the smart set.
From William Safire in the NYT (1005):
These are not the bodice-rippers (novels with heaving covers) piled up in dumps (cardboard display cases) at the front of bookstores…
A NYT piece from 2004 on Inspirational Romance is titled:
“The New Bodice-Rippers: More God and Less Sex.”
A 2008 NYT article on Stephen King’s relationship with mainstream critics:
King has yet to write a bodice-ripper, but any novelist who trots out demons and dragons is asking for trouble with critics.
A 2004 NYT article on the desertion of women readers from romance:
Explosive growth in the market for women’s fiction, particularly in newer genres like chick lit and women’s thrillers, has been drawing readers away from traditional romance novels, those formulaic bodice-rippers stocked with hunky heroes and love-conquers-all endings.
I suppose I need some examples to prove the other half of my point, that when referencing other genres, no adjective is needed.
From NYT 2008 mystery review roundup:
Magdalen Nabb, who died last summer, left a final reminder of why she is irreplaceable among English-speaking novelists who write mysteries with Italian locales.
From a 2008 NYT article on Neil Gaiman:
Seems like a lot of people want Neil Gaiman, the fantasy novelist, short-story and comics writer, to give away his books.
From a 2008 NYT article on marketing video games with SFF novels (a topic you’d think would be ripe for some derogatory adjectives):
When PJ Haarsma wrote his first book, a science fiction novel for preteenagers, he didn’t think just about how to describe Orbis, the planetary system where the story takes place. He also thought about how it should look and feel in a video game.
A recent NYT appraisal of the late Arthur C. Clarke:
All science fiction does this to a certain extent, trying to imagine alternative universes in which one factor or another is slightly different.
A recent NYT review of Chalres Todd’s A Matter of Justice:
There’s no end to war in Charles Todd’s unnervingly beautiful historical novels, only the enduring legacy of suffering inherited by those who survive and remember.
None of us who read romance like the term “bodice-ripper”, mainly because it’s a bad use of synedoche: some romances may fit the bill, but most do not. So it tars the whole genre with one brush. (This is one reason I personally hate the clinch covers, but that’s another topic.)
But, if that’s the case, why isn’t the adjective redundant? Hasn’t the point that romance is trash been hammered home so thoroughly and uniformly that a reviewer can now safely type “it’s a romance” and get his or her dismissive meaning across?
Here’s a strange idea: Perhaps the use of the term “bodice-ripper”, although we hate it for good reason, represents something positive, namely, a lack of closure on the question of whether there can be worthy instances of this genre. Perhaps it signals a discursive space where romance readers and writers can affirm that while there is, indeed, truly bad romance, this genre offers a range of quality, just like mystery, science fiction, and fantasy.
Further reading on this topic:
Kathrynn Dennis has a great article on the term at History Hoydens.
Read For Pleasure’s post on the tool “bodice ripper”.
Author Eloisa James/scholar Mary Bly’s 2005 NYT Op-ed.
A post by Laura vivanco at Teach Me Tonight on this topic.
And from Keira at Love RomancePassion.
As awful as this is going to sound, I think they use the rather derogatory term in order to patronize women. Romance is written primarily by women and read primarily by women and it inflates the people who use that term and gives them a sense of self importance as if they are ‘too good’ for romance. And to be honest, when romance first really took off in the 70′s and 80′s, the covers were flamboyant and storyline blurbs bursting with dramatic purple type prose. But that was the infancy of romance in it’s current form and it’s come a long way from the early days of Rosemary Rogers etc. Romance with all it’s different sub genres has grown and evolved significantly. Yet so many are too self-important to realize that things have changed. And they are reading snobs
I really admire your explorations on romance here, but every time I see more instances of this kind of thing, I know it’s a classic case of “mine is better than yours”. And I mean all these folks having to use bodice-ripper in a derogatory sense. They think they’re being clever by reanimating the term. They think so because plenty of others will laugh and get a kick out of it. Kids in a divided classroom, and kindergarten level apparently, at least on one side.
I agree with KristieJ – early romance earned itself this term, and unfortunately it has stuck like nasally disgusting tissue contents. I say let ‘em chuckle and chortle over the term bodice-ripper till they’re so tickled with themselves they can hardly see straight. Oh wait, they already are. The romance community has absolutely nothing more to prove to naysayers – with romance holding half to over half of mass market sales, I do believe the numbers say it all.
Why continue to pander to or acknowledge a bunch of snobs with nothing better to do than build themselves up with an outdated and poorly attributed stereotype (as, actually, all stereotypes tend to be poorly attributed)? I think romance readers have a heck of a lot better things to do – like reading more romance.
That being said, I don’t mean that it’s not worthy to discuss this. It can never hurt to be aware of a situation, it’s just that this one is such a very old hat. The romance-ripping-community, our friendly, neighborhood naysayers, needs a new one, but I doubt it will ever be in the form of respect.
Actually the term bodice-ripper comes from 80s Sheik romance and the 80s in general when it was thought women wouldn’t read romance novels with premarital sex unless the woman was “forced” into it by the hero.
I have a whole post on it here: http://www.loveromancepassion.com/sheik-romance-and-the-passion-of-arabian-nights/
In the end calling a romance novel a bodice-ripper when it doesn’t have the torn clothes, semi-forceful premarital sex is a misnomer… false advertising, etc.
I posted about bodice ripping not so long ago too. Anyway, back to your question:
Why does “romance” always get an adjective (usually “bodice-ripper”) from the mainstream press when other genres don’t? Is there some other kind of romance that I don’t know about?
The answer is “yes.” There are medieval romances, renaissance romances, Spanish sentimental romances, romances in the sense of adventure stories (e.g. Robert Louis Stevenson wrote an essay titled “A Gossip on Romance” and a couple of his novels are subtitled “a romance.” Some of Walter Scott’s novels are subtitled and described that way too), and there are national romances.
We should be getting IASPR (International Association for the Study of Popular Romance) off the ground soon, and it’s using an adjective, namely “popular.” Another one that’s similarly non-judgemental is “modern” (which continues the chronological naming of medieval and renaissance romances, but might perhaps suggest more continuity with them than really exists).
You guys make really good points.
@ KristieJ:
I totally agree with your assessment.
@ KMont:
I hear you. I am a new reader and blogger, so I will definitely be way behind you and others on the well travelled roads.
On the other hand, I wasn’t asking “why don’t they like us”, but trying to say something about the rhetoric used to dismiss romance itself. I think I failed utterly to make my main points clear, so I edited it. Thank you for prompting me to do so!
@ Keira from LoveRomancePassion:
Keira I am sorry I missed your post. Thank you for the link.
Now I am off to follow KMont’s advice and crack open Beast!
Laura Vivanco wrote:
I am having a hard time classifying Ivanhoe as romance rather than Romantic, but I’ll defer to you on that one.
As for the others, that’s a truly enlightening list. Thank you.
But do you think these are the types of romance which critics are excluding when they use the phrase “bodice ripper romance”?
Well, Ivanhoe was printed with the subtitle “A Romance.” And actually, I always thought it really should have been a romance (in the modern sense) with Ivanhoe and Rebecca as the hero and heroine, only Scott chickened out and ended the love triangle the wrong way. Luckily Thackeray was able to put things right in his Rebecca and Rowena: A Romance Upon Romance. It’s a parody, but I still prefer it to the ending of the original
But do you think these are the types of romance which critics are excluding when they use the phrase “bodice ripper romance”?
It’s almost certainly turned into a set phrase now, and so people may well write “a bodice-ripping romance” without thinking about why they’re using the adjective but I suspect that when the phrase “bodice-ripper” first came into use to describe what we’re now calling “popular” or “modern” romance, it probably was a way to distinguish these romances from the many older forms. After all, the original “bodice-rippers” were historicals, like Scott’s novels, but what distinguished them from other, earlier types of romances, was the explicit sexual details they contained about the physical relationship between the central characters, rather than being as adventure orientated as some of the older books subtitled “a romance.”
I do think there’s been quite a bit of difficulty with terminology. Some people refer to romances as “Harlequins,” or “Mills & Boons” in much the same way that vacuum cleaners are often referred to as “Hoovers” even when the machine in question has been manufactured by another company.
Well, I’m not sure where the misunderstanding came in, but no matter, Jessica. It’s a good post! I really did not mean that you needed to do any editing, but….I have a feeling I don’t quite get it anyway. Maybe I need espresso. At 4:20 in the afternoon. I swear I get more rest at work. Please don’t tell my boss I said that.
And hey, you may be newer than some of us, but you’re really damn good anyway. And I feel I must thank you because whenever I feel I could provide more insight, I think a lot about how well you do so. So thanks!
I think “bodice ripper” is used in the same manner “soap opera” and “tabloid” is used: to trivialize the women who choose THAT SORT of entertainment.
The term “soap opera” in context with a housewife is a phrase that evokes the visual of an overweight woman in a muumuu chomping bon bons and doing nothing productive (or having nothing productive to do) while her husband “goes to the office” and brings home the bacon.
Same, The Enquirer.
Same, “bodice ripper.”
Those are visual images of the women who consume them, not descriptors of what the product is. Its use says, “I’m not one of THOSE women.” I would consider it a class thing, a very country club attitude.
That said, I posted on this topic. I pretty much can’t be bothered to get my panties in a wad because (1) romance is the only thing holding up publishing right now, (2) if people are reading it and enjoying it, that’s what most writers want more than just about anything except financial independence, and (3) the people who aren’t one of THOSE women don’t know what they’re missing. Their loss.
[...] Vote Bodice-ripper Romance: Why Does This Genre Need An Adjective? [...]
a western cattle drive, a bodice-ripping romance, wicked villains
Well, at least this writer is consistent with his redundancies.
I have nothing academic to back up my opinion, but it seems to me that the “bodice-ripper” terminology is reinforced by the typical cover art, which still very commonly portrays a couple in a clinch, her head thrown back, and her gown on the verge of a wardrobe malfunction, whether there is any actual ripping of anything contained in the verbiage of the book.
I also think that readers have to get over feeling embarrassed and defensive about romance. We (as a whole) bear some responsibility in the downrating of romance because we participate in it — see the funny-cuz-it’s-true romance apologia scale at Dear Author. I’ve included a link to my own obligatory “romance gets no respect” post.
Laura Vivanco wrote:
That’s a very compelling explanation. Thank you!
MoJo wrote:
Just to say, I have never met a housewife who had time for any of this sort of thing.
I agree, and I agree that it’s a class issue as well: look at where Harlequins are advertised and available … not exactly hangouts of the rich and famous. but I still wonder why the adjective is in such wide use.
That’s a very compelling explanation. Thank you!
It’s still just a theory. I’ve done a bit more searching around in my files and it seems as though although I was right in thinking that the term came into use as a way to distinguish a particular type of story from other, related types, it probably wasn’t the older romances I was thinking of, although Peter Mann (writing in 1981) does mention male romance/adventure stories, so maybe I’m not completely wrong:
Some romances in the USA and the UK, especially some set in historical periods, have become near-pornography and are known colloquially in the book trade as the “muckies” or “bodice-rippers.” These stories clearly set out to titillate the reader and the use of rape, flagellation, and overt sadism is by no means uncommon. It is difficult to say if these novels are still really “romances” or whether they are a new female equivalent of the well-established men’s adventure story in which extra-marital sex and violence are major activities. (16)
Mann’s evidence would suggest that these new stories were given this designation because they were different from previous romances (as we’d understand the term) i.e. different from the Harlequin Mills & Boons being written at the time. But the comparison with male adventure stories might provide some evidence that a distinction was being drawn between male “romance” (i.e. adventure) and female romance (i.e. “bodice-rippers”).
Eike’s 1986 paper reinforces the impression that the adjective “bodice-ripper” was being used to distinguish these novels from other romances and that the level of violent sexuality was seen as the defining element of the “bodice ripper”:
Romance category fiction had become by the 1980s a hydra-headed genre with well-defined classifications by subject and length. [...]
1. Category romances – very short [...] sensual mode, i.e., kiss occurs on the last page.
2. Historical romances – medium length to long [...]; “bodice rippers”, although protests from readers have cut back on violence.
3. Contemporary romances – medium length; problem novels, i.e., something happens to first love or heroine meets two men both attractive and must decide; very sentimental; modern, realistic (?) characters.
4. Regency romances – short and medium length; novels of manners; witty and light; [...] emphasize repartee between hero and heroine rather than sexuality.
5. Romantic suspense/gothic – medium length; mystery and action with romance [...]
6. Teen romance – very short; written from view of 15-16 year old girl; subplot reflecting contemporary attitudes and themes; No sex.
7. Inspirational (Christian) romance (27-28)
Another academic writing about romances in the 1980s was John Markert. After describing Woodiwiss’s The Flame and the Flower he adds a footnote to the effect that “These books would be dubbed by feminist scholars and the popular press, ‘horny hystericals’ or ‘bodice rippers’ because the heroine often had her bodice ripped off. I have chosen sensual historicals as a more neutral term” (79). This again reveals that a need was felt for some kind of adjective to distinguish these sexier books from others.
* Eike, Ann M. “An Investigation of the Market for Paperback Romance Novels.” Journal of Cultural Economics 10:1 (1986): 25-36.
* Mann, Peter H. “The Romantic Novel and its Readers.” Journal of Popular Culture 15.1 (1981): 9-18.
* Markert, John. “Romance Publishing and the Production of Culture.” Poetics 14.1-2 (1985): 69-93.
Me, neither, but the visual still persists. To some extent, so does the thinking. The bread-winner still might come home to a clean house and dinner and not know *how* or *when* that it was accomplished and because of that, s/he may not think it was anything at all.
But in my time as the minion of a financial planner, my boss always took great care to ask the man (usually rich, marrying a non-rich woman), to get estimates regarding what he would have to pay to replace what the stay-at-home mom does–chauffeuring, nannying, cooking, cleaning, on-call, 24/7–and figure HER life insurance payout to roughly 3 times that figure yearly. It’s a shock to the man.
And yet, the visual persists. Why? I do not know.
Technically, there are other modifiers for other genres of fiction. For example, in fantasy: swords and sorcery versus alternate history, etc. But you’re right, “bodice-rippers” are not used in any fashion other than derogatory in many cases– although if, as you say, it legitimizes some romances (lucky enough not to be doomed as “bodice-rippers”), then maybe there are some positives.
As I stumble into this entire society, I learn more and more. I knew the origin of the term bodice rippers, being old enough to have started my romance reading with Captive Bride by Johanna Lyndsey.
But I really did not have a sense that it was still in use in the main stream media. And I certainly would not have guessed, as Jessica implies, credibly, that the use of the term points to a lesser evaluation of ‘modern romances’ than any other genre fiction, like fantasy. Hmm. I was under the impression that outlets like the NYT would put fantasy, male adventure books, and romance novels in the same basic heap.
Bodice Ripper for me has the same connotation as trashy novel, no better, no worse. And I imagine that it is a short hand for books with explicit sex, not that these reporters think that all these books still have no-then-yes sex in them. Of course, not being a reporter who has never read a romance novel, I really couldn’t say for certain.
Who knew I was choosing a moniker for my blog with such inflammatory connotations. Sorry.
Heloise wrote:
I thought about your blog, and I’m glad you posted.
Unless I totally misunderstand your blog, I actually view your use of the term as a re-appropriation and re-valuing of it. I think, since we aren’t getting rid of the term any time soon, we may as well try to broaden its meaning to lessen the sting.
Yes, that was certainly my conscious intention, but I didn’t know quite what an overtly pejorative term this was for a lot of people in the genre.
Not that I would change the title, I do think we’re stuck with it and might as well reclaim it. Having a sense of humor about what you value helps more people engage it, whatever their final decision about the genre.