Malinda Lo
Blog
Sep 2, 2010
Elements of (queer) romance
Over at Brooklyn Arden, editor Cheryl Klein has an interesting post about the elements of a great fictional romance. She pulls out 13 characteristics of a great romance, while acknowledging “the highly general, even stereotypical, gender roles” involved. One of the commenters (Nona) asked “How would the rules of romance change for LGBT characters or characters of a radically different culture? Does the setting influence this, too?”
Never one to back down from a challenge (even one not directed at me!), I thought I’d break down Cheryl’s 13 elements and assess them from a lesbian, gay and bisexual (LGB) perspective1.2
To begin: I want to say that I actually don’t think that Cheryl’s elements of romance are gendered on their own. I think that a writer’s or reader’s perspective (and sexual orientation) is what does the gendering. If you read the list as someone who is gay (like me), gender roles are automatically thrown out the window from the get-go. That’s not to say you can’t use them, but typically in a queer3 relationship, gender roles are purposely chosen or discarded, depending on an individual’s desires.
Nan King, from the BBC adaptation of TIPPING THE VELVET
I use the word “desire” deliberately here, because I think that most of us grew up with gender roles all around us, and we learned from an early age to find some of those roles desirable (as in, sexy). That desire doesn’t disappear simply because you’re queer. What I find so awesome about queerness is that you can deliberately incorporate the desires of those gender roles into your life — or reject them, reshuffle them, and remake them as you see fit.
So, without further ado, here are my thoughts on Cheryl Klein’s 13 elements of fictional romance (and you should really go read that post first), and how they relate to LGB romances:
1. Moral education — I think this is perfectly applicable. Someone can “complete” you whether they’re male or female.
Willow and Tara (from BUFFY, obviously!)
2. A change in someone’s essential nature — Love can change everyone, gay or straight.
3. Being wanted — This is also perfectly applicable, but with a twist. The main question is: Is there homophobia in this fictional world? Because if there is, being wanted by someone of the same sex can raise issues.
4. Being the only one — Totally translatable.
5. Being seen — Cheryl writes, “Cinderella stories are all based on the premise of being seen”; in other words, recognizing someone for being awesome. In an LGB romance, there is another layer of meaning: gaydar. Does Person A recognize Person B as being queer? In real life, this is an endless source of amusement/frustration for queer folks. In fiction, it may also hinge on the question of homophobia, or more accurately, whether queer people are normal. Are they recognizably different, or is everyone assumed to be potentially queer?
Lara Perkins (THE L WORD), whose gayness was successfully ascertained
6. Being in control — I think that in a romance, control is about more than having a decision-making power, as Cheryl writes. I think it’s also about power, and the erotics of power. That may not come into play so much in YA, but it’s there, underscoring all romantic relationships.
7. Breaking free — Again, the question of homophobia arises. If homophobia exists in the fictional world, part of the romance will necessarily be about breaking free from homophobia.
Ah, pulp fiction!
9. Separation — Totally translates as romantic, unless that separation is due to (you guessed it) homophobia.
10. Death — Let’s just say that as a lesbian writer, I am trying to move away from narratives in which one of the gay people dies in the end. I do not think this is romantic in a queer narrative at all.
11. Being known — Totally translatable, and in a homophobic world, having someone love you for the entirety of who you are is also especially empowering.
12. Being thought about — Totally translatable.
13. Sacrifice — If Person A loves Person B enough to give up something important for them, that’s great, as long as Person A isn’t giving up his/her life (see #10). But yeah, other kinds of sacrifice can be very romantic.
My conclusion: The question of homophobia is paramount in figuring out how an LGB romance works — much more than the sexual orientation itself. A lot of folks seem to start from the assumption that homophobia exists, but let me remind you that in a fictional world, the author controls this. It does not have to exist. There are even parts of the real world today that are remarkably gay-friendly and largely homophobia free.4 If homophobia doesn’t exist, that changes everything. It makes the romance normal, even if it’s a same-sex one. Personally, that’s what I want to read, and that’s what I write.
So, what do you guys think? Any missing elements, or great examples of these elements in fiction (YA or otherwise)? Don’t forget: Comments are moderated, and on my website, there is definitely no homophobia allowed.
- I’ve decided to not comment on transgender romance because transgender is not the same as sexual orientation, and I don’t feel qualified to speak about trans issues in this case. I do think romance is generally romance, though, and this mostly applies to trans folk too. [↩]
- And admittedly, I’m focusing on women in this discussion. I don’t know as much about gay male narratives, but generally, I think what I’m saying here applies to men and women. [↩]
- I use the word “queer” here as an umbrella term incorporating lesbian, gay and bisexual, but it also has a political connotation as progressive/liberal/feminist. [↩]
- I would say that the gay dating scene in San Francisco is pretty utopic in this area. [↩]
I think power is an interesting dynamic to play with in queer romances. In most societies (including today’s), the power dynamics between a man and a woman are not equal. Now of course, power can be at play in nearly every situation: financial, ethnic, etc. but when you remove the male-female power dynamic, I feel it makes a story much more interesting.
One of my favourite couples in fiction (not YA) is Melisande and Phedre in KUSHIEL’S DART and KUSHIEL’S CHOSEN. There are definitely power imbalances between the two, but it has little to do with sex, orientation, wealth, or even social status. They are enemies, yet at the core, they are the only two who understand each other, which fosters a deep sort of respect.
I love Carey’s Terre d’Ange books because while Terre d’Ange believes that one should Love as thou wilt, this doesn’t stop relationship troubles from arising that have nothing to do with sexual orientation and everything to do with plain human nature.
I just recently put Carey’s Kushiel novels on my TBR list. They look really intriguing, and I agree, power makes a romance (or any story really) a lot more interesting. I like power differentials in fiction: it enhances tension, drives the plot, etc.
Thank you so much for this great response, Malinda! A really interesting and thought-provoking list.
I love them. I think Carey has a real gift for writing female relationships (I find her hetero romances less compelling, but then again, I’m not a huge fan of her romantic male leads) and she has ways about writing about love (familial, romantic, platonic) that sort of destroys me.
Her books are also about a bisexual sexually masochistic courtesan who is also a spy. What’s not to love?
Hmmm. This is helpful to me, because I worried a little bit about it in the romance I’m writing. One character is far more ‘butch’ than the other, but the more traditionally ‘feminine’ one is the more dominant in the relationship, being in a position of power and the person who initiates physical contact. If these characters were male and female, I think either way it would be problematic (I’ve gotten stick for having heroes that weren’t ‘manly’ enough before), but I think you’ve confirmed for me here that if I feel like the relationship works for them, it’s not necessary to worry about trying to fit them into traditional gender roles.
Er…I should clarify that I’m not actually writing a ‘romance’ per se – it’s a subplot in my YA fantasy novel!
On #10, Death, is this simply your personal preference or is there a more general reason you believe this kind of resolution is not romantic in a queer narrative? If it is the latter, is it because of the possible thoroughly unappealing trigger such writing could be for memories of deaths which homophobia has caused and causes still? Or because a fatal ending for one queer lover could be interpreted as due punishment for a forbidden love? Or…something else?
I’m curious, this is the only point which is not clear for me. Otherwise, great reinterpretation! I have for a long time been thinking about how unshakeable gender roles can be reconciled with the quest for equality, and you have pointed out something that I should have seen as obvious- that they are employed very differently by straight people and by the queer, and the condition for equality is not the unreasonable wish for all roles to be embraced by all genders, but simply that every role be assumed willingly. Thanks for that!
Love this! And that screenshot of Willow and Tara breaks my heart a little.
Thanks for your comment! Re #10 — I don’t find it romantic because there has been a long, long history of movies/TV/novels about gay people in which one of the gay people dies in the end. In some cases (e.g., Brokeback Mountain for one), one of the gay people dies due to violence against them because they’re gay. I don’t see how this could ever be romantic; it’s tragic. And if they die due to some other cause (cancer, maybe, or often suicide), it can often be read as a purposely symbolic punishment for being gay. Again, not romantic.
Maybe someday gay people will be so accepted that a Romeo & Juliet kind of story, except with gay folks, will seem romantic rather than tragic. But I don’t know that we’re there yet. (And I don’t really find Romeo & Juliet romantic, anyway. I know I must be in the minority.)
“Her books are also about a bisexual sexually masochistic courtesan who is also a spy. What’s not to love?”
THIS. This is why I want to read these books! Yes.
I find Romeo and Juliet tragic…though before the deaths, I suppose it’s romantic? I would think that’s how Brokeback Mountain divided, too (though I found the whole story tragic for the forced lies and betrayals more than for the death) But I reserve the right to be utterly wrong about anything to do with romance, as it is far from my interests and I only know it as something most people desire.
I can see how gay deaths can be tainted that way, but I had to ask because I wasn’t sure that was what you meant. Death of one lover is always a good way of closing a story which would otherwise demand a difficult resolution. The easy way out, before things get ugly, before we have to face a real problem: what next? And I suppose if the relationship is considered unacceptable, the death frees up one of the lovers to seek redemption with no further temptation.
Yes, I can see how that is not appealing. But so, no matter the author’s skill and intentions, we are doomed to interpret these deaths this way? Until society changes? I never thought of that but now that I do it seems to be true. I wonder if the same is true for stories about interracial relationships where the non-white dies. That bridge has not necessarily been crossed yet, either.
OMG Malinda you really need to bring a second version of Ash I absolutely loved and I want to read more of it you could put in it about Ash and Kaisa’s relationship and maybe something bad could happen to the fairies and Sidhean comes to find Ash telling her she’s the only one who can help them all, The forest could be getting knocked down or something I dont know but you really need to bring another one out Pleaseee x x x x
Thanks for your comment, Naomi, and that’s a fabulous story idea.
I’m not going to be writing a sequel to ASH, but my next book, HUNTRESS, is sort of a prequel. It comes out in April 2011. Hope you’ll enjoy that one!
can anyone please discuss the tragic elements in the Brokeback Mountain ???…i loved the book by Proulxs but i guess i was blind to see the tragic elements??