AKA “How I learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Cycle of Abuse”
Tumperkin kindly sent a category romance by one of her favorite Old Skool romance novelists, Charlotte Lamb. I did enjoy reading it, and recognize the author’s skill. I felt she excelled especially in portraying complex human motivations, and the dynamics of an abusive relationship. I also enjoyed the way it was “dated” — quiche served at a party, divorce just coming into fashion. But I could not read this book as a romance.
In this book, published by Mills & Boon and Harlequin in 1979, Caroline and James’s marriage is on the skids. These two opposites (James is a mature, distinguished, austere, intellectual lawyer who enjoys Scotch, quiet socializing, and raping and beating his wife, and Caroline is a former aspiring actress who used to like wild parties with the Bohemian crowd and now dares not speak until spoken to), enjoyed a whirlwind courtship after they literally ran into each other on the streets of London. One look into James’s “icy gray eyes” did not, alas, alarm her, but instead sent Caroline headlong into marriage. Since her miscarriage of a baby she wanted but James did not, their marriage has become a sham. They barely speak and sleep in separate bedrooms.
When the story opens, Caroline visits a friend from her former life, who disapproves of the changes marriage to James has wrought in her once spunky, outgoing friend. With Maggie’s support, Caroline gets a makeover and a little self-esteem back, rediscovers her passion for acting, and finds herself the object of the affections of her charming, wildly successful actor friend, Jake.
If you were me, you would read this as the beginning of a hopeful story of a woman who escapes her batterer and starts a new life, a la Blue Eyed Devil. Alas, this is just the first few pages, and the rest of the book is devoted to saving Caroline’s marriage to James.
According to the CDC, 1 in 4 women and 1 in 9 men in the US are victims of domestic violence at some point in their lives (CDC). If you answer ‘yes’ to even one of the following questions, you may be one of them (National Domestic Violence Hotline). Hmmm, how would Caroline answer?
Does your partner:
- Embarass you with putdowns?
“I can’t stand that dress– it makes you look drab. … I’m sick of seeing you wandering around this house like a ghost.”
“You adulterous little bitch.” (in front of others)
Caroline: “I did some thinking.” James: “God, women should be banned from it!”
- Look at you or act in ways that scare you?
Caroline rehearsed the way she would ask James, her fingers writhing together in anxious preparation. I’m frightened of him, she thought.
- Control what you do, who you see or talk to or where you go?
The humble begging voice she had grown used to using with James.
- Stop you from seeing your friends or family members?
“She had barely noticed as he quietly peeled her away from her friends, the ironic lift of his dark brows enough to curtail any meeting with one.”
On her house: “James had kept her in it like Snow White in her glass casket, airless and lifeless.”
James also punches Jake, and at another point Caroline is concerned James will kill Jake.
- Make all of the decisions?
“She knew better than to argue.”
- Prevent you from working or attending school?
Maggie: “You should never have given up your career.” Caroline: “That was the way James wanted it.”
- Act like the abuse is no big deal, it’s your fault, or even deny doing it?
James: “You provoked me to it… you realise that? I’m not made of stone.”
- Shove you, slap you, choke you, or hit you?
Scene 1: The Rape
“You bitch,” he muttered, teeth tight. His hands circled her throat and her eyes darkened as they hardened into iron bands.
“Caro”, he groaned into her mouth, and his body drove into her while she silently shrieked a bitter protest. Abruptly, as though that lifted her above what was happening, she went cold and stiff. He seemed unaware of it, moving on her urgently, a sharp pleasure in the sound he made, and she heard him with angry hostility. He was using her body against her will, and she felt like an object. She hated him.” (this rape causes red marks and bruises on Caroline’s arms, shoulder, breasts)
Scene 2: The beating/forced seduction
“His hand hit her across the face and she was knocked off balance, falling across the bed.”
- Threaten to kill you?
“I’d kill you first” (in resoonse to Caroline’s threat to leave James for Jake)
“I was so jealous I could have killed you.”
“I’m afraid that one day I’ll kill you.”
- Threaten to commit suicide?
Yes, but I can’t find the page!
FYI, here are the items on the list which James did not do. Clearly he needs to go back to the Old Skool if he wants to be the perfect abuser!
- Intimidate you with guns, knives or other weapons?
- Force you to try and drop charges?
- Destroy your property or threaten to kill your pets?
- Tell you that you’re a bad parent or threaten to take away or hurt your children?
- Take your money or Social Security check, make you ask for money or refuse to give you money?
Domestic violence falls into a pattern, which experts refer to a “cycle of abuse”, in which tension building (breakdown of communication, abuser becomes angry, victim feels frightened, tries to keep the peace by making accommodations) is followed by an incident (physical, sexual or emotional abuse), which is followed by making up (apology, promises, blame the victim, deny abuse took place), followed by calm (meeting promises, victim becomes hopeful the abuse has ended).
Dark Dominion followed this pattern to the “T”.
In this novel, James’s abuse stems from his jealousy of Caroline and his fear of losing her. If he isolates her, he figures there will be fewer threats to his control of her. Caroline tries to find the root — perhaps a bad upbringing, she suggests? – for this irrational fear, but James asserts, “It’s just a kink in my nature.” I thought that was an interesting choice on Lamb’s part: Today, even Willy Wonka and the Grinch get explanatory bad childhoods.
In the novel, Caroline’s growth is signaled by the fact that she identifies James’s behavior as problematic. She doesn’t go as far as I would like. For example, she doesn’t refer to her rape as a rape, but rather as a “barbaric explosion of jealousy”, but since it is 2009 and marital rape is still considered a lesser crime in many states than “regular rape”, I will chalk this up to the times. However, Caroline begins to stand up to James, and she gets him to admit to his jealousy, an admission which hurts his masculine pride mightily.
Even at the end, after Caroline gives birth, she thinks, “the one thing that worried her was how he would react to the birth of the child. She was afraid he would resent the intrusion of a third between them.” Of course, he’s thrilled with the baby (even though it’s a girl, something else Caroline worried about, because “James would want a boy.”), a sign that James has changed.
Signaling another major shift, James actually develops a friendship with Jake. Caroline thinks, “Whatever Jake had said to him had altered him.” I found it interesting that Caroline gives credit to James’s turnaround not to herself, but to Jake.
Attesting to his new understanding of human relationships, James says, “I discovered that love is like the amoeba — divide it, and it multiplies, and more you stretch love, the further it goes … it’s elastic stuff.”
But what about Caroline? Why did she choose James over Jake? It must be said, first of all, that Jake also insulted her, was prone to fits of jealousy, gave her punishing — at times unwanted — kisses, and manipulated Caroline, so he was no postfeminist prize either. But he was a veritable Dawson Leery in comparison to James. Caroline knew James had a “darkness” Jake lacked, but she was drawn to it:
“Two jealous men, she thought wryly. She felt like the bone between two savage dogs, but of the two Jake was easier to cope with; he did not frighten her, and James did. She was not sure of James. There was a brooding darkness in him which frightened her, drew her and frightened her at one and the same time.”
It’s another interesting choice of Lamb’s, given the alph-hole hero, that Caroline is genuinely unsure which man she prefers for a time, and enjoys kissing and caressing Jake very much. It is unusual in today’s romance for the heroine to feel lust towards anyone but the hero once they meet.
Caroline chooses James because “something in her nature turned finally towards the dark uncertainties of James’s character, partly because she knew in her heart of hearts which one of them needed her most.” When she finally dumps Jake, instead of reacting with jealous rage, he reacts with “the shrug of resignation she knew he would give”, proving to Caroline which man truly loves her. Nothing says true love like jealous rages, I guess.
Jake asks her, “And does what you feel come into this at any point, Caro?” She thinks, “last night she had told herself she would choose according to her own needs, but in the end she had chosen differently, and she knew it.”
On the other hand, James is meeting at least some of Caroline’s needs. Whether they are healthy needs is an open question for this reader. Not everything we want is good for us. She says: “I won’t deny you hurt me tonight and I won’t deny I enjoyed it”, after the second rough sex/forced seduction episode. While Caroline reads her own admission as a kind of sexual assertiveness, I found it hard to agree, given that consent was utterly lacking in the scene.
Caroline recognizes that she cannot leave James: “I can’t live without him” she tells Maggie.
Caroline’s “strength” is shown in lines like this: “Once she would have shrunk away from the cold front he was now showing her, but now she was going to thaw it even if it took a lifetime.”
Later, in a bit of a subversive twist, which is another example of what makes Lamb interesting to me as a writer, Caroline thinks, “At the back of her head, a little voice asked warningly if she could take this endless effort to soothe his jealousy, but she brushed it away.”
Of course I felt that Caroline should have listened to that voice, aka the voice of reason. I wanted her to see that her “need” for James is not natural or primal, but the result of gender socialization which tells her as a woman that she must have pity and compassion, not anger, mercy, not justice, that she must think of others, not herself, that she is less valuable without a man, and that to be needed by a man — to rescue James from himself – is her raison d’etre. These heterosexual gender norms are compounded by the psychological effects of James’s abuse – including acute depression. I wanted to throw the book across the room when Caroline blamed her own nostalgia for her single life for James’ behavior. She says, “that was what went wrong with my marriage … I couldn’t get over the dreams we shared, you [Maggie], me, and Jake.”
In the fantasy world Lamb creates, a woman’s love turns a bad man good, she becomes stronger and more resilient the more she is beaten down, and an abuser can stop all at once just by willing it. I can see why that would be appealing. Unfortunately, in the real world, it is more likely that her will love keep her in the relationship and get her killed, her self-esteem and identity will be destroyed by abuse, and the cycle of abuse will not stop until she leaves him or is killed by him.
Are such fantasies empowering?
I’ll end here with a final tension. We are meant to celebrate the gentle, loving James of the last pages, who helps his wife breastfeed, teases her gently, and buys her flowers. But we are also told over and over that Caroline needs the “darkness” in James. We are told that it is in his nature to be primal, possessive, and dark, and in her nature to want it.
Can they have it both ways?
I enjoyed reading this book, thinking about it, and blogging about it. Thanks T!
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#1 by Nicole on October 7, 2009 - 10:27 pm
I have this book and it is always a wrenching read every time. Thought you would like to know there is a sequel of sorts that focuses on Jake’s relationship but has glimpses into James and Caroline’s life called A Secret Intimacy.
#2 by Janet W on October 7, 2009 - 10:52 pm
Testing, testing. I typed a comment that got swallowed.
For those that rely on wiki, that would be Dawson of Dawson’s Creek. Yes, I had to look it up.
And Lamb is different, absolutely, but her heroines do have that scary word “spunk” and aren’t total doormats. Or at least, that was my impression after reading FRUSTRATION.
#3 by Laura Vivanco on October 8, 2009 - 3:18 am
Charlotte Lamb’s daughter has a blog about her mother’s books, and she’s written quite a bit about this novel, including the following:
Whether or not it was intended to be read this way, this could be understood as implying that all women’s psyche’s include this kind of “secret need.” But, and I hoped it went without saying, but apparently it might not, not all women have “a secret need to be dominated.” Which may explain why books like this don’t appeal to me.
I’ve read other novels by Charlotte Lamb which are different, and I’ve liked them, and those often include “subversive twists” too. She seems to have been a romance author who held some of the romance conventions up to scrutiny, pushed at the boundaries of the genre, and liked to explore her characters’ psychological depths.
#4 by Laura Vivanco on October 8, 2009 - 4:28 am
It’s definitely not the case that all female readers put themselves in the place of the heroine at all times when reading a romance.
#5 by Jessica on October 8, 2009 - 6:02 am
@Nicole: Thank you Nicole. I may just have to read that.
@Janet W: I agree, Caroline is not a doormat. And I am sorry the Dawson’s Creek reference was too obscure. I was thinking “Alan Alda” at first but a lot of my readers are too young to know that one.
Laura, yes, I agree. I found the elements that subverted romance genre norms really intriuging.
Thank you for that link and quotation. What an interesting thing for a woman to wrestle with her mother’s complex artistic legacy!
Oh, and I agree that it;s wrong to think all female readers identify with the heroine. Didn’t Lisa Kleypas have a good quote on that in the Smart Bitches book? In fact, lately I am starting to think heroines are completely dispensable in romance.
#6 by AnimeJune on October 8, 2009 - 7:46 am
I can understand how this book can be an interesting course for discussion, but your review still makes me want to set it on fire.
#7 by Victoria Janssen on October 8, 2009 - 8:10 am
I think I did read at least one Charlotte Lamb book as a pre-teen, but unfortunately I remember no details.
Some of the types of character behavior you describe, though, are familiar to me from other romances published at the same time – I suspect Lamb went further than most, but I don’t think she was writing in a vacuum.
#8 by Laura Vivanco on October 8, 2009 - 8:43 am
In my second comment, in which I mentioned that not all readers identify with the heroine, I originally had a link to the recent discussion we’d been having about reading at Teach Me Tonight. I don’t know what happened to that bit of my comment. I probably managed to delete it by mistake while I was trying to edit another bit of the comment. But in the post I’d linked to (and which I’ve just linked to in this comment), I included quite a bit of the quote from Lisa Kleypas about this that’s in the Smart Bitches’ book. She “believe[s] the heroine is the placeholder” and “the reader generally experiences the story from the heroine’s POV.”
#9 by Jill D. on October 8, 2009 - 9:20 am
Wow Jessica. Fascinating, just fascinating. I can’t say I would enjoy the story, but it does sound like a very thought provoking read. Great post. I loved the way you quoted the book highlighting examples that identified abuse.
I had to laugh when you wrote this: James is a mature, distinguished, austere, intellectual lawyer who enjoys Scotch, quiet socializing, and raping and beating his wife
I like you oh so casually add the raping and beating part.
Oh that dry wit
Gets me every time.
#10 by Angela/Lazaraspaste on October 8, 2009 - 1:12 pm
.
This is totally not on topic, but can I just come out and say it? If the heroine is just a placeholder, then fail, fail, fail. There is something severely wrong in a genre about love if one half of the couple is completely superflous to the plot. I mean, if the heroine exists only as placeholder then to me that is more damaging than a depiction of someone who stays in an abusive relationship because it suggests, subtely in the very structure of the narrative, that what’s superflous to love is the specific person who happens to be a woman and that what is central to love or being loved is either being or becoming a general outline of a woman rather than a being a person.
There’s something to be said for a heroine that does exactly the wrong thing right on through to the end because at least then, she’s a character and not merely a placeholder for virtue, however it is defined.
Which is probably why something like Dark Dominion is such a fascinating read. In the very discomfort the reader has in dealing with characters who do not behave either nobly or rationally, we are forced to confront the idea the love has absolutely nothing to do with the worthiness of the beloved.
#11 by janicu on October 8, 2009 - 2:54 pm
I remember my mom having some Charlotte Lamb romances in her bookshelf growing up. I don’t recall if I ever snuck any, but dude, this book is disturbing. EEck.
#12 by Tumperkin on October 8, 2009 - 2:54 pm
Ok. I really love this book. I mean, I really love this book. And it’s not that I don’t agree with everything you’ve said about abusive relationships and all that – but you know? what Angela said:
This is what I feel like about this book. James is – awful. Caroline is a fool. Their relationship is a strange and disturbing thing. I don’t approve of it. But it grabbed me. It was compelling. I believed in them. And that bit you quoted about love being an elastic thing – I adore that. I believe it. I believe James is on a road to change.
This touches on something I’ve thought before – a lot. The reaction of the reader to something they don’t approve of and how that affects the reading experience.
This particular issue is complicated by the fact that it’s a 1979 book with a 1979 sensibility (that’s Mills & Boon 1979 which is probably about 1965 in human years). I must admit that I’d read it differently if it had been written in 2009. You make allowances for date of publication. You do it when you read Wuthering Heights, no? And maybe (this has just occurred to me) there is something I like about slipping backwards in time.
Oh, this is underlining for me why I’ve never blogged about my deep love for this book. Such a troublesome, difficult read.
#13 by Angela/Lazaraspaste on October 8, 2009 - 3:06 pm
But isn’t that it? Isn’t it the troublesome, difficult reads that make it worth being able to read? Isn’t that why I wanted to study literature in the first place? Because in trying to understand the troublesome and the difficult you begin to fall in love with it? I mean, that’s how I feel about Paradise Lost or this little gem of a book I just read called Vice Avenged. I love them for the very fact that they are dark and troublesome. Just like, I guess why Caroline loves James.
#14 by Tumperkin on October 8, 2009 - 3:24 pm
Angela – yes. And I could almost extend that feeling to the whole genre.
#15 by Anida Adler on October 8, 2009 - 3:28 pm
“that’s Mills & Boon 1979 which is probably about 1965 in human years”
Omg, rotflmao! I’m going to be laughing about that for days to come!
Just reading this review was disturbing to me. I could never read the book. While I realise I’m probably a coward, as one can probably learn a lot about attitudes and preconceived notions from such reading, I just couldn’t stand it.
I remember reading a Barbara Cartland (well, it took me about three quarters of an hour, because it was so terrible I resorted to reading about a paragraph each second page and could follow the story perfectly even so) a few years ago. I was struck by how the heroine was this utterly imbecilic nincompoop who couldn’t utter a sentence without at least three pauses in it. The denouement consisted of the hero, whom I thought to be an obnoxious prick, sweeping in, taking the reins of her life from the heroine’s limp hands and taking charge. It was awful.
Yet those were the romantic dreams of women in that era, just as the M&Bs of today are, unrealistic though they may be, the romantic dreams of women in this one.
The former really sobers me, in that it shows me how frighteningly awful both attitudes to women and their view of themselves were just a few years ago.
If this book is anything to go by, I’d say we’ve moved on a hell of a lot. Though it’s valuable and insightful, gods know it must make for harrowing reading rather than relaxation.
#16 by KristieJ on October 8, 2009 - 5:20 pm
Reading this review was disturbing to me me too. While this one sounds even much worse, this ‘type’ of book is what turned me off romance for a number of years – the message that it was OK for the hero to treat the heroine with complete disrespect, one wave of his magic ‘wand’ and voila, things are fine and the ‘hero’ was just misunderstood, he’d been betrayed by someone in his life and that gave him total justification for mental, emotional and physical abuse of the woman he was supposed to love.
So many of both the ‘heroes’ and ‘heroines’ were just twisted. Jealousy was a justified excuse for cruel behaviour.
And I think what is most disturbing to me – is so many of them were very well written.
#17 by jillsorenson on October 8, 2009 - 5:52 pm
I think I’ll pass on this one.
#18 by Robin on October 8, 2009 - 9:52 pm
Jessica, you *really* need to read Vampire Lover. Talk about a role reversal.
Also, I think those DV statistics are low. I learned in DV law that the number for women was 1 in 3, with predictions that it would soon reach 1 in 2. The number for men may be more accurate, but it’s difficult to determine because there is probably even more under-reporting there than with women.
Personally, I think these darker books are a working through of various patriarchal and other power dynamics — not just in terms of the fantasy of having the hero so in love with the heroine that he has no control over himself, but on a deeper level re. how women continue to live and survive in a world full of men who have the power to make us vulnerable in the most positive and negative ways. I don’t think they necessarily offer good answers, or even construct the issues with patent realism, but I do think we often see these kinds of books written in the midst of a lot of societal attention to gender issues and feminism more specifically.
#19 by katiebabs on October 8, 2009 - 10:22 pm
Whoa. How in the hell did this book get published? Rape, physical and mental abuse all rolled into one.
I read a historical romance, and I use that loosely, like this book once that is considered to be a cult classic because it is so hard to find. It was horrid because of the abuse the heroine goes through at the hands of the hero.
This is so… I can’t even find the words.
#20 by Sherry Thomas on October 8, 2009 - 10:58 pm
Strange. Just tonight I read THE SHEIK by E.M. Hull for the 2.5 time.
That book totally sucks me in, even though it is wrong on so many levels.
It all comes down in the end to that strange alchemy between book and reader.
#21 by Robin on October 8, 2009 - 11:14 pm
Type your comment here@Sherry Thomas: Have you read Blue Jasmine by Violet Winspear? It’s like the missing link between Hull and the rest of sheikh Romances (and the closest thing to a literary xerox I can imagine, lol).
#22 by Tumperkin on October 9, 2009 - 8:00 am
@Robin: Type your comment here
I agree. I don’t think it’s an accident that the expression of conflict between heroes and heroines has changed over the decades. I did a post here at RRR in which I mentioned the famous Laplanche and Pontalis observation that fantasy (and let’s just assume, for a minute, that a romance novel contains a reader fantasy) is not the object of desire, but the setting of desire. In that sense, the precise elements of that fantasy world are not a reflection what the reader desires. I am struggling to articulate this….
Another thing that I am finding fascinating about this discussion is this emerging issue of the – what? moral structure? – within a book and the reader’s reaction to it/ tolerance of it. It’s something I’ve blogged on a bit myself in the past but maybe I’ll think about it some more.
Sherry – I’m glad I’m not the only one who has love affairs with problematic books.
Robin – I’d love to read any posts you’ve written in sheikh romances if there are any to be found?
#23 by RfP on October 9, 2009 - 8:08 am
@Jessica:
There’s a contingent of readers who say this, or something close to it, loudly and frequently. I strongly disagree, and judging by the bestseller lists, I think many other readers do too.
I’m a switch-hitter as a reader. Sometimes I identify; usually I don’t. Sometimes I’m interested in the hero, sometimes the heroine, sometimes neither. What matters more to me is that I’m a fan of that specific hero and heroine together, whether or not I “approve” of them. But regardless of the pairing, I really enjoy romances in which a character (any character imbued with personhood, not necessarily always the one with/out a Y chromosome) undergoes a real journey; I like romance in part as a subgenre of character-driven fiction.
On the level of approval, one important thing I like about the genre is that I see much of it (obviously not all, as it’s an enormous genre, but enough that I consider it a signature of the genre) as being about a woman’s journey. I most definitely approve that the genre portrays that, whether it’s an entirely internal journey or whether it treats external reality to a larger extent.
And then again, back in the literary (versus approval) perspective, if the genre portrays *two* characters with full personhood and evolution, plus a relationship’s evolution or increasing immanence, that’s character-driven heaven.
#24 by Sherry Thomas on October 9, 2009 - 8:35 am
“In fact, lately I am starting to think heroines are completely dispensable in romance. ”
I don’t they they are altogether, but they certain HAVE BEEN, and will continue to be, as long as there are readers whose primary pleasure come from getting close to the hero.
I, on the other hand, get off on emotional turmoil. So I don’t really give a rat’s ass about getting close to the hero, as long as I can see why the heroine fancies him–and why he fancies her. [A lot of the times my problem with a book comes from that I can see why she fancies him, but I have no frigging idea why he fancies her--which is but the flip side of the Dispensable Heroine Syndrome.]
#25 by Angela/Lazaraspaste on October 9, 2009 - 9:19 am
I have no morals. Just ask anyone, which is probably why I have . . . let’s call it a flexible nature towards horrific behavior in books and art. This is also how I tolerate French “comedies”.
As for the heroines, what Sherry said. My problem, too, comes from not being able to figure out what the attraction is. I mean, this is also my problem in life. I’ve mentioned A Wedding Story before and I’ll mention it again, but that TLC show was great for seeing the WTF couple in action. As puzzling as that is in life, it is really frustrating for me in books because on some level I have to be with both characters no matter how heinous they are. It’s not a question of behavior, it’s a question of . . . depth? I don’t know. But, for example, Newland Archer a character I loathe and yet every time The Age of Innocence comes on TV I watch it because even though I hate Newland Archer, his story is fascinating. I think a successful romance is very much predicated on character, not action and character fail equals romance fail.
#26 by Jessica on October 9, 2009 - 2:46 pm
Thanks everyone, for the comments. I am sorry I cannot respond to each one.
Just to clarify, I didn’t say there was anything wrong with this book, or that it should not have been published. I did say that I could not read it as a romance, or rather if I had to, I would call it a failed one. I could not personally root for this couple as things stood.
Robin — the stats are from the Justice Dept. Many feminists have a broader definition of assault which would include many more incidents and many more people.
My comment about heroines was offhand. I did not realize, RfP, that there is a contingent of which I am now a member.
It’s fine with me if readers identify with the heroine, or hero or both or nobody at all. But in romances, as in film, I want to see female characters who are well developed and interesting. they do not have to get “equal time” with the hero — that often doesn’t make sense for the story — but I want them to be believable and interesting, not mere placeholders in which to insert myself so that I can drool over the band of brothers who takes up every page.
And when people tell me — no, you identify with the hero, silly! — that is not a comfort, to be honest. Are we all men now?
Sorry I can’t say more. Time is of the essence at the moment!
#27 by Robin on October 9, 2009 - 5:00 pm
Type your comment here@Jessica: My DV law professor writes a lot of the DV manuals for judges (at the state and fed level, IIRC), and is a lawyer (obviously) specializing in DV, so it’s an interesting discrepancy.
As for hero v. heroine. I think there are readers who are more heroine-centric (including me) and those who are more hero-centric. Being heroine-centric does not mean I must or do personally identify with the heroine, but I do tend to appreciate Romances that also have a good dose of the heroine’s journey (i.e. those elements that are often more prevalent in chick lit/women’s fic or fantasy — i.e. the coming of age story). And I’m more frustrated when a heroine is underdeveloped than when the hero is, I think.
#28 by RfP on October 9, 2009 - 8:04 pm
I took it as offhand, and was not picturing you as one of The Contingent. (Nor The Contingent as anything so definite as A Contingent.) But I’m enjoying the image of A Contingent of Romance Readers–armed with firm spears of love, naturally.
#29 by willaful on October 9, 2009 - 11:08 pm
This post so cracked me up, especially since I’ve been on a Charlotte Lamb binge of late (am reading Compulsion at the moment.) I haven’t read this particular book, but feel as if I had. You struck the nail so thoroughly on the head–though you seem to be missing the weird gene that lets people like me enjoy such a book despite its manifest issues.
Another book that struck me as practically a step-by-step recipe for spouse abuse, should you ever for some bizzare reason want to investigate another one, was Margaret Pargeter’s Captive of Fate.
#30 by Nicola O. on October 10, 2009 - 3:47 pm
I’m late to the party here, but I wanted to say how much I enjoyed the review, Jessica. Brilliant to use the “symptoms of abuse” questionnaire.
I’m a switch-hitter as a reader. Sometimes I identify; usually I don’t. Sometimes I’m interested in the hero, sometimes the heroine, sometimes neither. What matters more to me is that I’m a fan of that specific hero and heroine together, whether or not I “approve” of them. This is me. A good book has a great hero, a great heroine, a great setting… a GREAT book has a standout hero, heroine, AND fabulous chemistry between them. They don’t have to be people I love, (tho it helps) but if they’re interesting, have a character arc, and sizzle between them– that’s the perfect romance.
#31 by Janine on October 11, 2009 - 6:32 pm
I think I am a more flexible reader than some. I can enjoy a book in which the heroine appeals to me much more than the hero (ex. Beast by Judith Ivory), or a book in which the hero appeals to me much more than the heroine (ex. Black Ice by Anne Stuart, Seize the Fire by Laura Kinsale), or even a book in which neither appeals to me all that much on their own, but they are simply perfect for one another (ex. Wicked Intentions by Lydia Joyce). But when a book comes along in which I get all three (ex. To Have and to Hold by Patricia Gaffney), something as rare as a blue moon, it lifts me to the stratosphere. Especially if it also has wonderful prose.
Now almost all of the examples I’ve used about are books that are problematic in some fashion. So clearly I am drawn to these problematic books. And I don’t think it’s because I have no morals — if anything, it’s because my conscience is so active that I enjoy vicariously escaping into the consciousness of characters who ignore their own consciences at times.
Having said that, I’m not at all sure that I would enjoy Dark Dominion. I haven’t read it but some of the older HP books that I have read and many of the historical romances from that late 1970s era were too problematic even for me, and did not convince me of the happy ending.
#32 by Jane Holland on January 18, 2010 - 9:44 pm
Have blogged briefly about this review at Charlotte Lamb’s website. Sorry it took me so long to spot it!
Hope this link works …