bewildered heart

"The other half of his mind was focused on creating a man"

2017-04-09T19:44:00.000+01:00

At this point it was probably last year that Mills & Boon teamed up with newsagent W.H. Smith and eBookseller Kobo for RoWriLife, or Romance Writing Life, for the longer, but equally problematic, name. RoWriLife gave authors the opportunity to recycle their failed So You Think You Can Write manuscripts. The Florida-based journalist Kerry McKay has since been announced as the winner. Her novel, A Country Affair, beat out 465 submissions and is described as, 'Highly original, eccentric but romantic, a traditional romance with quirky characters in uniquely British situations.' Meanwhile, on the website and blog, the competition organisers were kind enough to offer their Top Ten tips on how to Romance Write Life. Are these perceptive critiques on the typical problems plaguing amateur fiction? Let us delve in and discover that no, they are not.

1. 'Grab readers’ attention with a gripping first chapter and a killer first line.' Beyond the title, author's name, blurb, tagline, reader's biography and some legal details about copyright and publishing dates, the opening line of a novel is often the first thing the reader will read, assuming that they start at the beginning. 'The novel’s opening can’t be all build up or backstory – something exciting has to happen!' What exciting things would be appropriate for a Romance novel featuring few characters outside the heroine and hero? The entrants of So You Think You Can Write preferred the traditional concepts of other genres, using thriller tropes to draw readers in before the big reveal that their book was a tedious will-they-won't-they love story after all. Resisting the Billionaire Playboy saw its heroine scaling the wall of a nightclub, to introduce intrigue and danger into a tale of weddings and the business of weddings.

2. 'Establish the emotional conflict that your characters are facing so that readers are dying to know how it will be resolved.' Couldn't this statement be rephrased in the form of a question that doesn't make sense? 'What is that these characters want the most and what is standing in their way?' Thank you. Without the establishing of an emotional conflict, readers would be left to guess at was keeping the characters apart, emotionally. Once the reader knows what is happening they will often keep reading to find out how things will end. In the case of Romance, the ending will be happy

3. 'Keep your central plot unique and fresh but also a clear and defined idea that you can pitch in a maximum of three sentences. You want to entice readers into a compelling novel, not confuse them with too many plot strands.' Nothing confuses a romance reader quite like plot strands. One plot is usually enough, bulked out with two subplots that are easily resolved within the central story. To simplify matters further, the two subplots can be the same as the main plot. The challenge the author faces is stringing out their idea into three sentences without repeating themselves.

4. 'Avoid clichés. The hero and heroine bumping into each other and spilling each other’s drinks has been done 1000 times! Find something new that’s completely your own.' So many spilled drinks. Should people in the throes of love be allowed to carry beverages? History says not, but at least now that cliché has been pointed out, the days of either drink-carrying or drink-spilling may be over. The avoidance of clichés is important, as is recognising what a cliché is. Fortunately Mills & Boon have spent upwards of one hundred years creating every romantic cliché they could think of. Now it is up to a new generation of writers to create some more.

5. 'Your characters need to be complex – they can’t just have one trait personalities.' Does your heroine love horses? Perhaps they love horses because of unresolved issues with their father, who himself was a horse who abandoned his daughter when she was little. This is the different between superficial archetypes and characters who feel real. While heroes often have only one thing on their mind - marriage - they carry that same obsessional will into the other areas of their life, such as billionairing and home-decoration. If they are doctors they are often also single parents. Playboys are no longer just one-dimensional caricatures. Authors have added other identifiers, including Greek and Italian, and complex traits such as ruthlessness.

6. 'Your characters also don’t have to be perfect. Flawed characters with interesting emotional conflicts make for stronger stories than characters who are practically perfect in every way.' The days of idealization are over. As we move into a new era where people are more three-dimensional than ever, readers expect their fictional characters to accurately reflect this. Mills & Boon has expanded its oeuvre to cater for as many peculiar tastes as their marketing team are capable to thinking up. There are now subgenres devoted to rich characterisation, heart-breaking emotional crises and quirky small-town locations. The publisher's tendency towards idealising the hero physically has allowed them to play around with different kinds of personal deficiencies including committmentphobia, haughtiness and having more money than they know what to do with.

7. 'Your central characters need to go on a journey throughout the story. Usually from a state of (self) ignorance or misunderstanding about what will make them happy to a point of self-awareness and acceptance.' Sometimes involving physical movement, but more often than not the journey is one of worrying while stood. The questions every romance novel asks are a series of simple ones. What makes these two characters happy and what should make them happy and why is it taking so long for them to figure out that happiness can only be found in the formulaic results of Romance Fiction? The answers are independence, marriage and narrative.

8. 'Show don’t tell. Characters and events need to be revealed through actions rather than long passages of narrative which can weaken the tension in your story.' This point misuses the word narrative, and seems confused over what events are, but the argument for show rather than tell is valid, albeit irrelevant. Reveal character flaw, motivation and unresolved father issues through the nuanced use of action and subtext. For example, rather than this how-to guide telling the reader that spelling out Bewildered Heart's loneliness, instead we can reveal so much more by subtly hinting at the problem, to no one, because Bewildered Heart has no readers.

9. 'What your characters say or don’t say to other characters can often reveal a lot more about how they are really feeling than what they directly tell the reader.' This point is identical to the previous point, reminding the aspiring not to lay things on too thickly. Despite this, speaking directly to another character is not the same as speaking directly to the reader, at least until Mills & Boon invent the 'Make Your Own Romance' genre. Even then a gentle approach will most often be better, and perhaps this will be explained by a final thought that is the same as the previous two, only worded differently.

10. 'Know your market. Who are the author you write in a similar style to? What makes your book appeal to fans of these authors and what will make it stand out? Think about why a reader would choose your book over that of another author aiming at the same market.' The call for originality is idealistic and all, but the most important question to ask is, who is you most derivative of? Is they successful? Is they very successful? If so, please continue pursuing a career in romance writing. If your influences have struggled to sell their novels, you might as well quit now.

"Not a bad effort - for a girl"

2015-09-17T17:41:00.000+01:00

As Mills & Boon enters into an era they will misguidedly describe as their renaissance, the public relation gurus of News Corp. International have found inventive ways to spread the message that their product is no longer for lonely housewives, lonely old ladies and the chronically-demented. While that dependable audience will continue to be catered for, new and lucrative markets are simultaneously being pursued. Modernisation was the buzzword of yesteryear. Now Mills & Boon have moved onto new words, such as realism and contemporariness. The days of colour-coordinated front covers are over, albeit ongoing, and the archetypal characters and chauvinistic plots are being complimented by new novels with subversions of industry standards. Gone are the days when a Mills & Boon book could be described succinctly by the Oxford English Dictionary as, 'a popular romantic novel.' Fans should not panic, however, as the romantic and novel parts of that description remain intact.

For greater insight, who better for the Daily Telegraph to speak to than one of the next generation of authors that have been chosen to bring Harlequin into the near-present. According to trendsetters, popstars are beyond sexuality, social media is a theme, beauty no longer exists and marketing forces dictate that everyone is attractive to everyone all the time. Radhika Sanghani marked the publication of her debut novel with an article for the Daily Telegraph in which she notes how times have indeed changed. Sanghani explains that Mills & Boon are moving away from, 'Chivalrous knights and coy maidens waiting to be deflowered,' and it is about time. Chivalry is dead and virgins haven't been coy since the 1860s. History belongs in the still-very-popular Historical subgenre. As if to prove the many points she has yet to make, Sanghani has entitled her book Virgin. The titular character's presumed modesty is implied.

The move towards progress has been ongoing for three years now, and undertaken naturally, spurred on only by happenstance. For the corporation, a widening of the potential markets saw Mills & Boon aim with a scattershot approach to younger women, teenagers and the intellectually mature who always believed Romance Fiction to be beneath them. The heroines are no longer just innocent ingénues, bakers, secretaries, maidens and Bridget Jones'. Now they are still them, albeit facing greater complexities, including bereavement and infertility. For example, the winner of So You Think You Can Write was notable for concerning a heroine unable to conceive, and the arrogant Sicilian billionaire playboy who seduces her. The new, improved formula has extended beyond competition winners and into the realm of non-competition winners, and has been hinted at, attempted and introduced to readers stealthily over several decades.

Sanghani elaborates, 'Anouska Knight's A Part of Me tells the story of a couple trying to adopt a child. It goes into detail about the role of social workers, and what it means for a woman to be childless, and though there is a romance plot, this comes second to the heroine’s quest to have a child.' It might appear that romance and child-having are mutually-exclusive plotlines, but this is probably inaccurate. What has changed from the standard setup is a twist on how the author prioritises themes. Where once the preference of Romance Fiction was on the romance, the appropriately-dubbed Women's Fiction has placed emphasis on the women. Knight's earlier attempt, Since You’ve Been Gone, is not the novelisation of a Kelly Clarkson song, despite the world's calls for such a thing, but is instead about a young woman’s journey through widowhood. Just when this sounds as if it has strayed too far from the Romance remit, details come to the rescue. 'Admittedly the heroine, Holly Jefferson, is distracted by charming men, but unlike the typical Mills & Boon maidens of old, she’s also focused on her career: a bakery business.'

Moving on, 'Fiona Harper’s The Little Shop of Hopes and Dreams tells the story of a woman, Nicole, who works at an agency where she helps men to stage proposals for their future fiancées. It taps into themes of social media and entrepreneurship, while containing a love story.' The Little Shop of Hopes and Dreams probably shouldn't have been mentioned in a bid to improve the publisher's image. Still, how about Maybe This Christmas by Sarah Morgan? 'A girl marries her childhood sweetheart, after he splits up with the mother of his teenage daughter.' So many questions about the ages of those characters, but doesn't the synopsis have all the trappings of a typical romance? 'It has all the trappings of a typical romance, but also explores issues of bullying.' Perhaps bullying your childhood sweetheart into leaving the mother of his teenage daughter is a suitable opening for a different kind of romance novel, one where the heroine does not care about coming across as likeable. There is almost no need for her hair to frizz on sunny days.

After those less than appealing examples, what about you, Radhika Sanghani, and Virgin? Are there damsels in distress? 'There are no damsels in distress; instead readers meet Ellie Kolstakis, a 21-year-old student who’s desperate to lose her virginity.' After all, just what is the definition of a damsel anyway? While checking the dictionary, aren't desperation and distress synonymous? These are minor quibbles, of course, when compared to the originality of a twenty-something virginal heroine. 'Virginity is, of course, a common Mills & Boon trope, but Ellie doesn’t want to lose it to The One. Unlike a more old-school romance, the novel doesn’t end with true love; instead Ellie finds herself, and she finds feminism.' Old School Mills & Boon authors have argued that Feminism can be found in all life choices, and that includes sacrificing your innocence in exchange for money. Yet, the real issue with Virgin is less its attitude towards sexual politics and more its finale. Can a Mills & Boon novel without a Happy Ever After still call itself a Mills & Boon novel? The answer may be as simple and disappointing as a solitary tear running down the unblemished cheek of a coy maiden.

Surely women's favourite emotion factory will not desert what made them famous, influential and handsomely rich. The company has always been proud of its history, their back catalogue merely a reflection of the decades their books were written in. A move into the crowded marketplace of Young Adult will need a major facelift to remove the out-dated, misogynistic taste from the collective mouths of the readership. Yet, for the most part, Sanghani speaks of necessary alterations to keep up with the times. The focus of the evolution should have been in the quality of the writing, with more ambitious plotlines and richer characterisation. Sanghani does at least appear to be working to improve half of the last one. 'The more passive traditional heroines have been sidelined for stronger, younger women who don’t just want a man, but a fulfilling career, too. Gender roles are reversed in a way that reflects a wider social change.' If there is one direction heroines need to head it is younger. Yet how unrecognisable must Mills & Boon become, and for what purpose?

In Neurosurgeon... and Mum! the novel's heroine yearned for a family and found one, gaining confidence from their love and restarting her career in medicine. MacKenzie's Promise begins with a baby being kidnapped. In The Dad Next Door our lonely heroine inserts herself into a family recovering from divorce and the loss of a child. The author of Accidental Princess kills several families to bring her heroine to the throne. The majority of Romances involve blackmail, prostitution, unwanted pregnancy, arranged marriage, bad weather, office bullying, sexual harassment, gypsies, death and the pressure of arranging the perfect wedding at short notice. Tragedy and the occasional pirate attack are nothing new to the genre Mills & Boon single-handedly invented. Playing catch-up with reality seems an embarrassing failure on the part of the publisher, and yet the company remains dedicated to market whims, if feminism can be considered a whim. The inclusion of difficult subject matter is not a revolutionary idea, but greater complexity and deeper insight would be. Still, how can it be considered escapist fantasy if you have to solve your own problems?

"A woman alone is a deserted temple, full of the echoes of her dreams"

2015-05-31T21:03:00.000+01:00

Hidden away rather appropriately at the University of Reading is Boons Mots: An Anthology of Artless Extracts, a fifty-year old pamphlet compiled anonymously by Mills & Boon editors. Highlights include favourite lines from aspiring authors and a letter from Violet Winspear, whose novels include Satan Took a Bride, Bride of Lucifer, Devil in a Silver Room, Dearest Demon, Lucifer's Angel, Darling Infidel, The Passionate Sinner and, just as a pattern appears to emerge, Palace of the Pomegranate. Winspear asks after the future of romance fiction, with questions ranging from the eerily prescient to the timelessly adorable. We may never know what prompted Winspear to write a list so long that lettering it proved myopic, but we may also never know any of the answers.

Much has changed in fifty years, of course, and modern Mills & Boon authors show little interest in the etiquette of bedroom door positioning, but there are several thoughts that require thinking about. As always, into this void steps Bewildered Heart. 'Are the books too long by present day standards?' Violet begins. Whether present day means the historical present of yesteryear when Winspear broached this subject, or the present day of today or the present day of the future when this will be read accidentally by someone searching for Hugh Jackman photographs, romance novels have always been longer than necessary. The formulaic demands of word count do not help and while Winspear offers solutions such as shorter passages of dialogue and cuts to descriptive detail, superficial alterations do not affect the larger problems of form. Nevertheless, was this crusading writer requesting a technical discussion on inherent romance structures, or was she looking for a simple yes or no? Romance novels are shorter than the majority of other genres, and therefore the answer is simple. The books are not too long by present day standards, but should still be shorter, unless extra words would make them more interesting, as well as longer.

Perhaps Violet Winspear wrote her letter seeking statistical proof that many of the archetypes and clichés of Romance actually work. This, after all, is a manifesto asking for permission to revolt. 'Are backgrounds more popular if foreign?' she asked. 'Are heroes more desirable if foreign? Are successful heroes and virtuous heroines passé? Are heroes required to be more ordinary? Are heroines required to be more ordinary? Are established romantic ideas out of date?' As it turned out, a handful of decades later, authors eventually covered every possibility, with local characters, down-to-earth sheikh surgeons and impoverished billionaires all making an entrance to varying degrees of popularity. Given that each book sold an identical number of copies, the Mills & Boon of Winspear's age found a way to avoid measurements of fashion. Nowadays, an in depth undertaking of what sells would be possible had anyone such an inclination.

There is a wider point of Winspear's befuddlement. What is convention? With a product such as Mills & Boon, the designs that have become so universal they are the generic jokes of anti-romance criticism were created not necessarily from readership desire but from a lack of diversity. As the author herself asks, 'Are readers satisfied with the romances? Are readers stating specific requirements? Are readers stating specific dislikes?' Once the publisher begins dictating requirements to their authors based upon the findings of market research creative freedom is diminished and Mills & Boon lose the individual voices it claims to crave. Yet Harlequin is a corporate entity motivated by profit. Original work is heralded and increasingly the company has looked to branch out, creating new imprints for more daring directions.

Despite this, playing to a formula, whether real or imagined, seems safe, especially in light of the victory for Resisting the Sicilian Playboy in the most recent So You Think You Can Write competition. Why Sicilian, modern day versions of Winspear might ask. Are Sicilian playboys that much more appealing to consumers than playboys from less exotic locations? Romance fiction has traditionally tended towards the far away, idealised backdrops of abroad. Thus it has been and the standard has rarely been questioned. New subgenres emerged to allow a move away from the norm.

When it came to offering alternative visions of classic romantic tropes, however, Violet Winspear preferred an innocent damsel in an exotic location. Her heroes were the hunters, hard-muscled, sardonic, rich, frightening and fascinating. She caused outrage when she commented, 'They must be the sort of men who are capable of rape: men it's dangerous to be alone in the room with.' Beneath the cynical exterior, however, her alpha males are lost, lonely and in need of love. Due to this, her heroines are passive creations by comparison, lacking in modern ideals such as self-esteem and sexual awareness. This was partly because of the era, but her novels are marked by old-fashioned attitudes towards sex, contriving plots of kidnap and forcible marriage to relieve the heroine of desire and moral responsibility in choosing to have sex.

Perhaps Winspear saw this as a necessary means to an end. She asks her editor, 'Are we to suppose (our) readers a bit dim?' It seems a worthwhile question and is followed later by Zb, 'Are authors to suppose their readers remain mentally backward?' Assuming that a writer begins their career in romance fiction under this assumption they would be wise to periodically check that they should continue to believe it. The answer then and today, for this question and most of the others is, 'Yes, but they shouldn't.' However Winspear defined mental backwardness is unknown, but it seems unlikely that this is a ringing endorsement of the intelligence of her readership. Mills & Boon novels do not challenge their readers with such demands as complicated sentences, politics, sociology, tension, unpredictability or even lengthy words, but there are powerful cultural undercurrents to what Winspear said and did not say. She wrote seventy novels in a career spanning twenty-seven years. Her books may belong to her time, and Romance has evolved to whatever it is now. Many of queries Winspear asked remain relevant, and continue to be unanswerable.

The type-written page of Boon Mots concludes with an insight into the direction Winspear saw her genre heading. 'Are authors to suppose sex measures maturing romance? Is sex the new name for romance? Are authors permitted to rebel against the above question?' The future played out as expected. In these times no one uses romance as anything other than a euphemism for pornography. Mills & Boon is a gateway to erotica, and the most popular exponents of the sex genre are published only if they contain light bondage as an indication of emotional development. Without regular sex scenes authors and readers have no idea how successfully a courtship is maturing.

Heroes are no longer capable of rape and heroines occasionally dare to be the aggressors, knowing what they want from a man and not being afraid to ask for it in exchange for money. Romance fiction of the 1960 and 1970s would look on forlornly, shaking its head at what has become of revolution. Where are the timid virgins, they would ask? Where are the dominating alpha males exercising control through wealth and masculinity? Why aren't all the novels set on islands in the colonial Dutch East Indies? What is escapist about reality? Romance fiction of the 1960s and 1970s, however, is misguided. Not much has changed, really, the business still caters for all tastes, but a little room has been made at the edges, for those authors who were allowed permission to rebel.

"I concentrate on my bagel"

2015-03-22T20:09:00.000+00:00

Due to it being the perfect occasion for a dubious dating decision, Valentine's Day was chosen as the day to release the cinematic adaptation of Fifty Shades of Grey. The adult-only erotic blockbuster has broken box office records, taking $85million dollars in its opening weekend and comfortably knocking the previous erotic blockbuster, The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie: Sponge Out of Water, off the top spot. Christian Grey is all about the money, of course, as well as feeding the world and subjugating women monogamously, but what said the critics and the real critics, members of the public? Receipts in the United States dropped by seventy-five per cent in its second week of release, suggesting word-of-mouth had been unhelpful. Reviews, meanwhile, have been vitriolic, but the filmmakers might have expected this, especially when considering how bad the film they made turned out to be. Despite this drop, the $23.4million earned at the U.S. box office was enough to keep the movie at the top of the charts. Sequels and spin-offs are inevitable and given how abruptly the first film finishes, there should be no doubt that the audience's punishment is far from complete.

Fifty Shades of Grey: The Movie scores a twenty-five per cent approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes. Early indications suggest this is twenty-five per cent higher than initial predictions. Many critics have praised the film for not being the book, and this appears to be the movie's main strength. The major failings of Fifty Shades of Grey: The Novel were found in the writing of E.L. James. The book was long, the plotting was tedious, the sex scenes were gratuitous, the inner goddess interior monologues were infuriating and the lengthy descriptions of the hero's perfection exhausted the reader's patience. The new and exciting medium of film alleviates these problems by swapping prose for images. Who needs to hear how beautiful Christian Grey is when director Sam Taylor-Wood fills her frames with Jamie Dornan staring intensely at the middle distance, looking all handsome? Who needs to be told of Grey's opulence when behind Jamie Dornan is proof in the form of product placement? Who needs to know what Ana Steele thinks? The screenplay pares down James' five-hundred pages into two hours of moving pictures, thus removing a huge number of offending words. The remaining offending words are still offensive, but there are fewer of them.

In her review for Sight & Sound, Jane Giles begins by listing classic romances. 'Like Cinderella, Bluebeard, Pygmalion or Twilight, (Fifty Shades) is a romantic fantasy and a fairytale, a story of sexual awakening in which the innocent heroine’s inherent strengths allow her to battle monsters, in this case capitalism and a male sexuality twice-warped by childhood abuse and adolescent manipulation.' The critics have joined the filmmakers in the psychological nightmare that is attempting to find subtext in softcore titillation. Capitalism is a monster humankind cannot fight with naïve virgins alone. Still, Ana doesn't so much fight oppressive economic models as she does admire all that they buy and then marries a billionaire for a life of financial comfort. The main antagonist Ana faces, besides the crazed stalkers, ex-girlfriends, parents, college students and mechanical malfunction, is male sexuality. She does this with a straightforward ease most becoming of how women behave in erotic novels. She asks Christian to change, which he does because the narrative requires it. Then she asks him to change again, in much the same way as before, except this time he refuses, again because the narrative requires it.

Critics have noted that the filmmakers were constricted by the source material and the author's sway over all elements of the process. Giles admits, 'One suspects that Taylor-Johnson was never free even to push at the edges of sexual representation, and the film’s lack of explicit imagery and grit is one of its disappointments.' Following a similar conclusion Margot Harrison at Seven Days noted, 'A more adventurous writer and director could have turned this twisted fairy tale into a full-fledged surreal fantasy, using its inconsistencies as assets. But James, who wielded considerable control over this production, surely wouldn't have given her OK to such escapades.' E.L. James is not solely to blame for wanting the film adaptation of her novel to have similarities with what she wrote. Audiences, too, were keen that their favourite scenes were loyally translated to the big screen. Had a writing team featuring Kelly Marcel, Patrick Marber and James herself deviated from the source material, changing characters or cutting those long, redundant sequences that readers loved, the disapproval of the viewers would have been felt in box-office figures. Fortunately, Taylor-Wood stayed true to that classic scene where Ana sits at her new laptop and tries to think of something clever to write.

Speaking of which, for there to be cheap sex there must be alternatives in terms of price; expensive, modest, reasonable, bargain. There are possibly others. Fifty Shades of Grey falls across categories. On the one hand, it is sleazy exploitation, but that hand is gloved in decadence as designed by Armani. This presents an unobtainable vision of beauty and affluence to an audience just wanting to be aroused by an acceptable pornographification of status. To the uninitiated Fifty Shades may appear to be a subversive twist on the fairytale romance between prince and pauper, but it instead belongs to the Solicititilation tales of Mills & Boon. Ana refuses money from her lover-cum-owner, and his extravagant gifts are considered loans. She does not want Christian for his wealth and life of luxury, preferring to pretend there is her ideal man behind the emotional sterility and violence. His violence is not real violence, of course, but rather the fluffy kind of subjugation that is both pleasurable and sensitively-undertaken. Ana concludes her story victorious, married to the billionaire and with all the beauty and affluence that entails.

When an example of female empowerment is offered, where better to look for insightful critique than Playboy magazine? Stephen Rebello has few kind words. 'This gift to the world of schlock cinema tries valiantly to elevate the Twilight fan fiction-inspired source material to a level of melodrama worthy of ‘60s stuff like A Summer Place or Strangers When We Meet. It sometimes succeeds but just as often it sloshes around in a bubble bath of high camp a la 9 ½ Weeks.' Despite this less than impressive beginning, Rebello does admit that there are positives to be found in the glossy, fetishistic look of a perfume commercial, the film's lurid convictions and fifteen minutes of sex scenes so timid no one should be forced to shift awkwardly in front of confounded grandparents. 'The plot is as simple as its sexual politics are muddled,' he adds. Readers might have assumed this from their memories of reading, but fans of Romance fiction who missed Fifty Shades will assume this as well.

As to be expected from a Playboy article, the review ends a criticism that could just as easily be thrown back in its direction, with the sexes reversed. 'It floats in a female wish-fulfilment world of ridiculously handsome, chiseled dudes so engorged with desire that they whisk away average-looking virgins on their self-piloted private jets to their lavish penthouses featuring walk-in closets the size of Texas, drawers lined with an endless assortment of grey silk ties and, just for fun, a secret torture chamber.' Nothing says female wish-fulfilment quite like a lack of colour in decorative accessories, and yet, as we all know, there are only fifty shades of grey tie and that hardly constitutes an endless assortment. Despite this oversight, Rebello's review is consistent with those who have felt the need to weigh in on Fifty Shades. The overwhelming critical disdain was written resignedly, as nothing would stop the money train from pulling into every station. The Turner prize-winning director, the Academy Award-nominated co-scribe and the Oscar-winning producers combined their high-brow credentials for the veneer of artistic credibility, but their movie was always going to escape the box-office poison of expert opinion.

“Don’t you dare speak about the man I love that way”

2015-02-25T17:52:00.000+00:00

The winner of So You Think You Can Write was announced shortly after contestants had submitted their entries. The champion was none other than the most predictable, Resisting the Sicilian Playboy by Amanda Cinelli. Nothing says Mills & Boon quite like a handsome tycoon overcoming resistance through a combination of handsomeness, money and strength, and the judges agreed. All those underwhelming rip-offs of Sleeping with the Enemy were no match for an underwhelming rip-off of everything Mills & Boon has ever published. For her part in the success, Cinelli receives the bounty of victory, which culminated in having her novel published on Valentine's Day 2015. Therefore Bewildered Hearts should look out for Resisting the Sicilian Playboy on bookshelves near them, taking pride of place among such titles as The Silician's Innocent Mistress, Love Slave to the Sicilian Billionaire, Bought for the Sicilian Billionaire's Bed, Captive at the Sicilian Billionaire's Command, Resisting the Billionaire, Bedded by the Italian Playboy and What the Greek Can't Resist.

The novel is available, in exchange for a modest fee, for all those who didn't manage to read it when it was free to download on the So You Think You Can Write website. The pitch introduced us to the characters and then to the plot, but the book itself tells a similar story with an equally predictable conclusion, albeit with thousands of extra and unnecessary words. Leo Valente is notorious among readers of tabloids, although the cause of his infamy is left vague. Still, wedding planner Dara Devlin needs his family estate for her client. Leo has only one request, that Dara work for him, as his entertainment-consultant and girlfriend. She accepts, as wedding planners are fearless pioneers willing to risk anything for the perfect wedding plan. What follows is largely guessable from the title, a playboy, an exotic location and some resistance. Dara's occupation suggests wedding planning, which leads us to assume the novel will end with a wedding in an exotic location.

The first chapter begins suitably enough with product placement and a heroine straddling a balcony ledge of a Milanese nightclub. Quickly come the Chick-lit asides that display a misunderstanding of how to wear footwear, 'A woman stood by her shoes, no matter how sticky the situation.' Dara is a woman only a sidestep away from being fully dressed, but there are bigger problems to deal with. Originally from Ireland, based in Syracuse and taking frequent trips to the mainland, Dara knows a thing or two about going the extra distance. Yet her latest assignment has been a series of failures. Desperation pushes her into a foolish plan, which she organises pedantically into three stages. Firstly, she must break into Platinum 1, which is either reopening or celebrating its ten year anniversary, Cinelli changes her mind. Secondly, she must find the owner, Italy's most beloved playboy Leo Valente. Thirdly, she must convince him of something. Her plan is both foiled and achieved when Leo finds her scaling a glass wall.

Leo Valente is not your standard sort of enigmatic hero. His hair is slightly askew. His eyelashes are overgrown. He has stubble. His gaze is smouldering. His voice sounds like silk, were silk able to make noise. His eyes are a unique shade of dark forest green. His chest is quite hairy. Despite these physical imperfections, he does at least have unresolved father issues. Herein lies the crux of the novel. Dara wishes to use his Sicilian castle for the wedding of Portia Palmer, the most famous English actress Ireland has ever produced, and requires Leonardo's permission. Leo has no interest in being reminded of another piece of property he owns, because this one just happens to be a metaphor for his arrogance and intimacy issues. Dara and Leo must wrestle for control of a metaphorical building that is also a building, only then will they be able to live happily ever after in the metaphorical building that has changed its metaphorical representation from his emotional aloofness to their empathetic love.

Leo has furnished the opulent Castello Bellamo with haunting memories. This explains Cinelli's follow-up prequel, The Sicilian Playboy's Incompetent Interior Decorator. Meanwhile, in the present, our titular playboy is a troubled man without paint or photographs of nice things. His father's ruthless business actions have alienated him from his homeland, the fictional town of Monterocca. At this moment, a beautiful blonde breaks into his private floor and offers him several opportunities. After all, she is on first name terms with Mr. Umberto and Mrs. Gianni Lucchesi, despite Gianni changing her name to Gloria halfway through the novel to avoid confusion when a man named Gianni Marcello turns up. With her reputation bolstered by the approval of potentially important characters, Leo realises that Dara's plans could repair his broken image among the poverty-stricken yokels of Sicily. More fundamental to life than business, family, island economy and identity, of course, is a visible bra strap. Leo and Dara have gone so long without sex the only thing they need to have sex is each other. This seems sure to happen, but a phone call interrupts their conversation and the first chapter ends abruptly, without much of a story to show for itself. Fortunately for those still interested, the second chapter soon follows and ends within a few sentences.

In the third chapter, Leo takes Dara to his favourite restaurant in Milan, known for its magic coffee cups. They talk for pages about their personalities and readers are well-advised to skip over this sequence. From there they head to the party Leo has asked Dara to organise in the few minutes between courses. Her skills at uniform designing and party-guest-separating impress Leo, who until meeting Dara had only hired inanimate objects to do his thinking for him. Yet Leo does not want Dara for her meticulous eye for detail, although he does also want her for that. No, Leo wants Dara to be his fake girlfriend, and not just any fake girlfriend, but a fake girlfriend he can have sex with and treat much like a real girlfriend. Why not just ask her to be his real girlfriend if he always intended on seducing her? Such are the vagaries of the Sicilian playboy. Still, a game is afoot. Can Dara resist? Will Dara's femininity melt Leo's heart and allow him to open up to estranged family members? Will Leo be disgusted by Dara's premature menopause or will his love prove to Dara her only physical flaw need not be an impediment to happiness? Will the wedding of the century go off smoothly, making Dara's career and allowing her to plan the weddings of whatever minor brittish royalty is?

For those wishing to read the completed manuscript, this can be achieved in the usual variety of manners. However, for those who prefer their books with all the grammatical mistakes and continuity errors left in, the winning draft submitted by Cinelli remains available online. Unlike many of entries Resisting the Sicilian Playboy defeated in the competition, its title was considered suitable enough to be retained. How much has changed in the few months Harlequin editors had to work with Cinelli can only be known by reading both original and published stories. This seems unnecessary punishment, even for those driven by an insatiable curiosity. Resisting the Sicilian Playboy is indistinguishable from the usual fare of the Modern subgenre. The indefinable certain-something that Mills & Boon look for and believe they found in Cinelli is nothing more than marketability.

"Something inside the princesse changed after giving birth"

2014-11-27T17:43:00.000+00:00

To help prepare aspiring authors submit to So You Think You Can Write, Harlequin editors have explained how to construct the perfect novel. While this may have been redundant after the publication of Secrets Uncovered there was much that the how-to bible failed to advise on. Equally important, of course, was judging by the first chapters entered into this year's competition, no one has really learned anything despite the many lessons. For this reason, Associate Editor Rachel Burkot has written, Good Pacing: Better Than a Solid Pair of Spanx. Pacing is so important to quality writing that Mills & Boon rarely mentions it or shows much evidence that they know what the word means. Fortunately, Burkot is here to help with a series of obvious statements entirely unrelated to the topic of pacing.

What is pacing, Burkot asks. Where better to begin than with the pacing found in an instruction manual for building a shed? 'Steps have to be listed in the correct order, otherwise the pacing will be off, and you'll never get your product put together.' This is correct, albeit irrelevant. Without a floor and walls a roof will simply fall to the ground, and will not even be considered a roof. In terms of romantic fiction, the sequence of events must be ordered to best maximise emotional resonance. Traditional romance fiction prefers linear narratives with a couple of sex scenes to pad out the second act and love neither realised nor declared until the final pages often after a misunderstanding or disagreement that separates the pair for long enough for them to see that life without the other is not worth living. This is the classic formula no one wishes to experiment with, and while pertinent to writing for Mills & Boon does not explain pacing. Still, the article has more comparisons. There is an email to an old friend, cement between floors of a house, dental work and Spanx. All either require pacing or are pacing.

Yet, just what is pacing? According to Burkot, pacing romance is especially difficult because the process of courtship is, 'Less transparent, more on-the-page than in other genres, since the characters are meeting, going on dates and falling in love.' While the pacing of much fiction and non-fiction has its pacing off-on-page, Romance paces its stories with words and those words are always within the book, often printed as part of sentences. There is nowhere to hide in Romance and a lack of pacing will reveal itself by every letter appearing together as one large incomprehensible black smudge. Burkot elaborates, 'You can't have characters declare their love on the first date and get engaged on the second. That’s just not reasonable or relatable! Furthermore, the book would end at the second date.' Thus, delaying the inevitable must be what Mills & Boon thinks pacing is.

When it comes to avoiding the trappings of poor pacing Burkot has two issues. She does not want to see hero and heroine fall in love too soon and she does not want stories without conflict. 'If it’s obvious only one-quarter in that the characters are ga-ga for each other and neither hell nor high waters will keep them apart, where’s the hook to keep reading?' she asks. Secrets Uncovered delved deeply into defining conflict as the things that stop the couple from being together. Burkot explains them incorrectly as, 'Plot-wise (externally) and within themselves (internally).' Proper pacing, therefore, must be observed in both the storyline and the emotional dilly-dallying that is also the storyline. Pacing can be found within conflict, but conflict is not pacing. Nevertheless, when writing an essay on the importance of pacing without fully comprehending what pacing is, it seems sensible to stress the importance of things that you do comprehend, just as long as this advice is properly paced.

What are the benefits of including pacing in a story? For starters, there is the illusion of unpredictability. 'If you can make a reader forget that she already knows the ending of a romance for just a split second, you’ve done a fabulous job with pacing!' But what is pacing? With this sentence concluding the article it seems safe to assume that Rachel Burkot does not know either. Nevertheless, there is one valuable lesson that can be learned from favourably comparing speed and rhythm to an American hosiery company. If a romance novel is good it has either been properly placed or has an abundance of pacing. If, however, a romance novel is bad its failure may be the result of either improper pacing or no pacing whatsoever. When pacing a blogpost on the topic of pacing, a Bewildered Heart must include epiphanies at around this point to provide the piece with a reason for existing. Most readers will have skipped down to the final paragraph anyhow, safe in the knowledge that everything up until that point was filler broken up with crude innuendo.

To better understand what is clearly a misunderstood subject, we turn to Writer's Digest and an article by Jessica Page Morrell from Crafting Novels & Short Stories. She begins by asking, 'What is Pacing in Fiction?' Good question. 'Pacing is part structural choices and part word choices, and uses a variety of devices to control how fast the story unfolds.' These choices include sentence length and the use of verbs. Pace can be quickened and slowed by a variety of methods, depending on the nature of the scene. The difficulties for Romance authors stem from their preference towards a leisurely flow to the drama with plenty of stops for emotional gestation, handsomeness-noticing, skin-tingling and neuroses-having. Action scenes are rare and when they do occur they are often interrupted by lengthy summaries of what the reader already knows. Heroes and heroines are afflicted by internal conflicts created in their pasts, and this curtails narrative momentum. Writer's Digest offers an insight into action, suspense and excitement, but these words are rarely used to describe the Romance genre.

Nevertheless, what would be so bad about inventing a new form of modern romantic fiction employing some of the suggestions made by Writer's Digest? Readers would be swept along, not by wondering why the world's sexiest and most sensitive billionaire is still single, but by an author skilled at story-telling. Of Morrell's seven tips the most significant is action. 'Action scenes are where you “show” what happens in a story, and contain few distractions, little description and limited transitions.' Were Romance novels to have plot development this insight would be invaluable. The traditional Harlequin output struggles with pacing due to deeper, inherent difficulties with structure and story. A gentle pace is used to mask what is lacking. Once an aspiring author has mastered the basics they can begin to consider technical adjustments, and thus we await Rachel Burkot's next article, which will hopefully explain what the basics are.

"When her boss said Leonardo Valente was untouchable, she had accepted the challenge with enthusiasm"

2014-11-12T19:59:00.000+00:00

The twenty-five finalists of the first final section have been clipped down to the ten finalists that make up the penultimate final section. Bewildered Heart has barely had time to gloss over the first chapters, and now the public has been tasked with reading ten complete manuscripts in a week before the next deadline. Of those previously mentioned and immediately rejected, three women-in-peril have made the most recent cut. They are Fire and Iron, Violation of Innocence and Wanting the Detective. The other seven include the Christmas-themed (Eep!) Kimani Mistletoe Mischief, the crowd-pleasing American Love For Sale and the hard-to-believe-it-is-not-already-a-Harlequin Resisting the Sicilian Playboy. Either making up the numbers or likely to win are Belfast Belle by Karin Baine, Paradise Found by Katie Meyer and T.R. McClure's A Perfect Match. You may remember T.R. McClure from such romance novels as Never Too Late and A Silver Lining.

Each of the ten finalists belong to separate imprints, which is presumably a coincidence, and although the differences between subgenres are negilible at best, some of the novels have been written for genuine niche markets. Medical™, for example, is a far cry from the likes of Modern. In the latter, the heroines have careers through which they meet handsome, wealthy tycoons, CEOs and, on occasion, pirates. Medical Romances make their heroine's careers related to medicine, while the heroes are handsome, wealthy doctors or surgeons. So You Think You Can Write has one such offering, entitled Belfast Belle. What fate lies in store for its inexperienced heroine, Lola Roberts? As she begins work on the ward she comes into conflict with her sexy French registrar. He sees Lola as a pink princess, which may be a technical term, and does not want the hassle of his job or sex with a beautiful woman. Despite this, sex is inevitable, but like all Frenchman Henri believes himself undeserving of happiness. What is a night of passion without a happy ending? Perhaps Lola can answer that through a combination of sex and maybe some technical jargon about a stethoscope.

The pitch for Paradise Found is classic Mills & Boon, perhaps explaining Katie Meyer's decision to aim for the Special Edition imprint. An orphan wants to save the community of Paradise Isle from a ruthless property developer. Nic Caruso, of Caruso Hotels, drives his rented car, wearing his rented suit, on his way to his rented room in Paradise Isle. This is no vacation, however, but rather a working vacation, which sounds a lot like work. He is here to tear down this idyllic small-town community and replace every building with a corporate hotel, ski resort, sunbatheing lounge, business centre, retail district and sixteen banks. Driving towards a bridge he spots a badly injured dog, dying on the side of the highway. After a great deal of philosophising he saves the dog. Dropping her in at the veterinary clinic he meets technician Jillian Everett and what follows appears to be foreseeable.

Few aspiring entries sounded more like a Mills & Boon novel than Amanda Cinelli's Resisting the Sicilian Playboy. It is as if the title has been pulled from a marketing meeting of marketing experts intent of finding the most clichéd words possible in the least amount of time. There is implied exoticism, a playboy and a playboy's favourite trait in a woman, resistance. The pitch begins as a reader might assume, 'Dara Devlin needs Leo Valente’s help if she wants to keep her job and plan the wedding of the year.' Not her own wedding, of course, although by the end of the book it will be. Everything is in place for a classic tale of romance, with a woman blackmailed into bed by a foreigner. Their no-strings affair takes a turn for the problematic, however, as Leo falls in love. But wait! That's not the end? It sounds like the end. 'Dara cant have children and vowed never to marry,' Cinelli continues. There is more than just an apostrophe missing for this unhappy couple. Will Leo prove to Dara that her pledge is silly and cure her infertiity with his magic penis? Does Leo happen to own a small orphanage filled with his illegimate offspring? What kind of resistance involves sleeping with the Sicilian playboy? So many questions.

Love for Sale is a Harlequin American Romance by the patriotically named Chase Ewing. There are few things less Yankee Doodle Dandy than a retired rodeo champion and Love for Sale offers Luke Crawford as its hero, a retired rodeo champion turned single father and ranch-owner. Still, even the characters of Harlequin American have felt the pinch of the economic meltdown and Luke is faced with the ultimate decision. Does he cash-in on his child or his home? By choosing the latter he meets ambitious estate agent Katherine Hastings. A lifetime of love seems relatively straight-forward at this point, but first Kate must find a buyer. Will Luke want to sell now that he has found a new and improved wife and mother for himself and his kid? With a title that promises solicititilation and a pitch that fails to deliver it, the enticing combination of ranching and property management makes Love for Sale a strong candidate for victory, assuming the voting public are lovestruck estate agents with a penchant for Westerns.

Fighting the good fight for Heartwarming is A Perfect Match. 'When east coast event planner Lacey Hoffmann first lays eyes on the tall, dark and dusty cowboy standing between her and her morning coffee, sparks fly.' Presumably because he has got dust in her beverage, but as this writing competition has been keen to illustrate, cowboys are the ultimate female desire, especially when they couple their aesthetic with a well-paid career. In this case, Clay McDaniel is a horse clinician from Texas. Not one for east coast coffee houses, he and Lacey head for his ranch. Still, the course of true love really only runs smoothly on the pages of romance novels, and even these two must overcome some problems. She fears her parents will divorce. He owes a debt to his brother. These sound like external conflicts. Internally they are, in so many ways, opposites and they live in different parts of the country. Might she relocate, given her preoccupation with cowboys? After all, despite their numerous differences they appear to be a perfect match. We know this because A Perfect Match is the title of the book.

Kimani Romances feature the African-American and multicultural characters that are not allowed to appear in the other imprints due to old-fashioned values such as racism. Making up the numbers for reasons of political correctness this year is Mistletoe Mischief by Carolyn Hector. Threatening the status quo even further, Mistletoe Mischief adds a non-white Christmas and a possibly homosexual Santa Claus to the mix. When the aptly-monikered Duke Rodriguez reveals Santa to not be a real mythical fabrication he seeks to put things right with assistance from Macy Cuomo, an over-worked holiday decorator. The holidays are always busy for holiday decorators, but Duke and Macy find time to gaze at one another and speak. As their attraction becomes more palpable, so, the reader might hope, will some kind of plot. So You Think You Can Write has achieved its objective of finding ten passable novels. If history is anything to go by, every author will be contracted, but one must be rewarded as the champion, because Mills & Boon insist upon happy and predictable endings. That'll be Superromance Man Maid then.

"Who would name their son Heathcliff and Rhett in this day and age"

2014-10-31T19:55:00.000+00:00

The twenty-five finalists of So You Think You Can Write can be helpfully separated into ill-fitting categories. This allows Bewildered Heart to deal with them in groups, and the first group will be known as Women-in-Peril, due to their thriller overtures. There are two from the Harlequin Intrigue subgenre, Remembrance by Tanya M. Burnstad and Wanting the Detective by Leah Maser. There are two Historicals, Agent of Desire by Katherine Dane and Fire and Iron by Autumn Shelley. Representing Harlequin Romantic Suspense are Violation of Innocence by Jeannie Hall and In Desperate Search of Peace by Analiesa Adams. Finally, there is Impulse, by Ison Hill and for the Kimani™ imprint.

Where better to begin than with Remembrance, a mystery thriller featuring a hunted heroine suffering from amnesia, a retired Special Forces soldier and their mutual attraction that might just save both of them for reasons that aren't initially apparent. The first chapter begins with several unnecessary adjectives and the introduction of the psychopath who wants Sarah Morgan dead, much against her own wishes. After an opening light on plot but heavy on words, the story switches to something else entirely, and the reader is left to guess at what might be happening, thus fulfilling the secondmost important duty of the Intrigue subgenre. To call Remembrance somewhat incoherent would be too straightforward a sentence, and therefore would not do justice to Burnstad's prose.

Wanting the Detective, meanwhile, sounds suspiciously similar to every other mystery thriller ever written or filmed. This time, however, it is the heroine with special in her job title, as Lucy Reynolds is a Special Agent visiting Atlanta to track down her missing sister. Her personal investigation only brings her into conflict with Kurt Milton, the sexy police detective already on the case. Lucy will do whatever it takes to bring her sister home, but Kurt doesn't play by the rules when lives are at stake. She's enigmatic. He's untamed. Together they sound objectionable. Will sparks fly? Will a human trafficking ring be burned to the ground? Will that leave any evidence with which to prosecute? The first chapter begins promisingly enough in the location all romance novels should start in, a sleazy strip club, where the feisty heroine accidentally arrests her future husband, a cop claiming to be there working undercover. Still, at least they have a charming anecdote about how they first met to tell the grandchildren.

The woman-in-peril subgenre works well in the Historical imprint, as those were the days of damsels, where distress lurked around every corner. We begin with Fire and Iron, set in the classic Midwest, not far from John Wayne country. Incomprehensible sentences aren't the only thing troubling US Marshall Brit Tracey. There is too much murder going on in the town of Jennings, Wyoming and he is directly responsible for much of it. He shoots first, as half the saying goes, and the second half of the saying doesn't really apply to him. After what seems like a great deal of scrolling down the reader is introduced to both the plot and the heroine. "Crazy Mollie", otherwise known as 'Irish' Margaret Shannon O'Shea, is a cattle thief and convicted killer. Brit must transport her across country, all the while falling in love with her and bringing them both closer to the man who framed her for murder. Fire and Iron is not your typical romance. It is told from the hero's perspective and the opening chapter features many more references to urine than readers will be accustomed to. Still, completely ignoring the structural instructions the publisher suggested and making references to urine has never hurt an aspiring author previously.

Katherine Dane begins her pitch in confident mood. 'Perfect for the Harlequin Historical Series, Agent of Desire is a sexy historical romance filled with intrigue.' If only Harlequin Historical Intrigue Romance was a genre, then this would be just right. Agent of Desire may sound like a perfume you wouldn't buy for your grandmother, but if this competition has taught us anything it is that titles can be deceiving. Hampstead Heath, London. The year 1817. Lord Crayle meets Sari Trevor. Trevor, known for wearing a distinctive Asian drape, is not your standard historical heroine, according to the pitch. She robs carriages, and as the story begins, she is about to rob the carriage of Lord Crayle for all its jewels, money and the Lord's mother's ability to tactfully approach difficult subject matter. When judging the quality of writing, a prospective novel must pass the opening line test. Does, for example, the opening line make sense? Agent of Desire begins, 'Sari rubbed her gloved but frozen hands together painfully as hid among the beeches lining the London road.' Next.

From Harlequin Romantic Suspense comes Violation of Innocence. 'Raised in a cult and forced at twelve to marry its leader,' the pitch begins, pessimistically. Things improve, however, as some years later Lynea Kreig escapes to a college town and falls for her professor, an accident-prone expert on cults. Working together love is kindled, but somewhere lurks her husband, with homicidal vengeance on his mind. Violation of Innocence is either a retread of Sleeping with the Enemy or a powerful redemptive tale of a husband sacrificing everything to win back the beautiful woman he has loved since she was a child. The first chapter gives little away, too busy introducing numerous characters who may or may not be important and who may or may not soon be murdered.

Speaking of thinly-veiled retreads of Sleeping with the Enemy, In Desperate Search of Peace sees Lisa Hill flee her crazy ex-fiance, who has turned his back on engagement to focus on his new passion, drug addiction. Much like Lynea, Lisa finds love in an idealised small town, Lake Duchess, on the Washington coastline, but still adjacent to a lake named Duchess. Sheriff Ryan Jacobs takes a shine to the mysterious newcomer, but his work is, 'complicated by his growing feelings her.' In a world where not even sentences make sense, how are emotions supposed to? Still, author Analiesa Adams should earn credit for the most unexpectedly romantic line of dialogue thus far. 'Don’t hide from me. You fucking whore, get out here. Stop this shit.' What has happened to our once sweet and innocent romance genre?

Impulse imagines the greatest obstacle any hero faces when attempting to win the heart of the heroine, a restraining order. Payton Jordan may be unable to spell her first name, but she has a successful career as a news anchor for Channel 6 Detroit. She has good looks, a trademark smile, the ability to read, skin and hair, everything a television personality requires. Still, nothing says celebrity more like a demented stalker, and Payton has one of those to boot. The opening chapter splits its time between Payton at the police station, and the stalker watching his favourite show, the news. Where is the hero, as mentioned in the pitch as criminal psychologist Sterling Hughes? As it happens, he doesn't appear to be anywhere, unless he turns out to be the stalker, and that seems unlikely. The pitch says Payton will escape to the relative safety of Atlanta, apparently the human trafficking centre of the United States.

All of these seven first chapters appear suitable for Harlequin, given their complete indifference towards editing. If they make it through to the final ten and their full manuscripts are offered to the public there are pitfalls each will have to avoid. Women-in-peril, as plot devices, appeal to author, publisher and reader. For the writer it affords them more than just the woman-meets-man formula of Romance to inform their structure. The case brings the hero and heroine together, gives them something to talk about and pushes the story-line forward even while the romantic plot inevitably sags. While providing momentum, the thriller aspect breaks up the scenes of feeling-having and family history-sharing with sequences of possible excitement.

The challenge for the writer is in finding a balance between high-octane thrills and saccharine sentiment. Romance comes before intrigue, after all, as there are plenty of other bookshop shelves for readers seeking action and adventure. The tonal shifts require a nuanced touch to give credibility to complex emotional responses to life and death danger and candlelit dinner in an Atlantan restaurant. Given the stakes of the subplot, attempts at levity and romance can display a flippancy that is not consistent with the severity of the situation. After all, is it in poor taste to end a novel with a couple kissing on a pile of corpses?

"He kissed her softly, slowly and very thoroughly"

2014-10-26T11:11:00.001+00:00

So You Think You Can Write has narrowed down its several hundred entries to a short-list of twenty-five. These can be perused, commented on, analysed thematically, rated and shared with friends and enemies over at the official website. After all, it is up to the public to shorten the short-list even further, down to the ten best which will proceed to the next round of judging. Amateur critics should hurry, however, because there is a great deal of reading and thinking to be done before the fast approaching deadline. Meanwhile, every first chapter that the judging panel considered is online, thus allowing the curious and the masochistic to enjoy the many pieces that were deemed not good enough for Harlequin Mills & Boon. There is truly something for everyone. Like your romances with a modern technological gimmick, then try Tweeting with the Bachelor or Nicey – An iPod Love Story. Prefer your titles with a typo, then how about In the Hundt or Held for Randsom?

Perhaps you only read novels with titles so ludicrous your only option is to read on? Well, the suspiciously named Ashley Joy Lowell Emma has offered up Undercover Amish, a story concerning a police detective returning to her former Amish home to solve a murder and maybe find love with a cabinet maker. If not those, would you care for a novel that finally tackles the alphabet scandal? If so, there is The ABC Controversy, which may or may not do that. The Barlow Springs Series The Elizabeth and Grey Wolf Adventures Book One: Bound By Love sounds ambitious, but lacks punctuation. Butterfly Coffee could be just about anything. How about the possibly euphemistic A Season for Plums? If fruit doesn't appeal, then there are presumably heroines named Time and Over in Doing Time and Do Over. I Might as Well Become Rich From My Misery seems to show an author accepting their future in romance fiction. What’s Better Than A Book Boyfriend? may ask an important question while Quarterback Casanova manages to say more than enough with those two words.

There are manuscripts that already sound like Mills & Boon novels even the publisher would consider derivative. It is hard to believe, for example, that Playboy Sheikh, Forbidden Heir or The BIllionaire’s No-Strings Marriage or Resisting The Sicilian Playboy do not already exist. Still, the fear of repeating themselves has not stopped Harlequin previously, and the publisher has proven this by constantly stressing that authors should not write what they believe editors will want at the cost of their own originality. Despite this, Resisting The Sicilian Playboy has made it as far the public vote along with all kinds of odd titles such as Fire and Iron, Love For Sale and When the Bus Stopped. Harlequin will no doubt change these to something more marketable before publication, but for now the romance readership can respond with mouseclicks, bringing to an end decades of misogyny and exotica for a future of pretentious references to nothing.

A cursorary glance of the submissions indicates some authors researched more heavily than others. A keen understanding of Harlequin's portfolio is always advised, but adhering too closely to the model is unwise. Chopstick Thursdays by Stella Steele introduces itself with, 'Poppy Merlot is not your typical heroine.' Uh oh, Chopstick Thursdays. First of all, what is a typical heroine? A feisty virgin, perhaps, with a quirk that isn't particularly quirky? Just how subversively unique is Poppy Merlot? 'She is a free spirited, audacious and sexually naïve mechanic whose favourite guilty pleasure is ordering Chinese food every Thursday.' Many of those words require closer scrutiny, but with time of the essence and another four hundred first chapters to review it would be smarter to just move on. The last thing the Romance genre needs is an audacious mechanic. By the way, is it possible to buy a bottle of Poppy Merlot from the same shop that sells Butterfly Coffee?

Some entries were rejected for reasons immediately apparent. Z.A. Zombies Anonymous, for example, a Nocturne entry by Jo Rohrbacker, is hardly suggestive of idealised romance, 'The zombie epidemic has consumed the planet. However, the underground world of pimps, prostitutes,“zombie fights” and the grotesque practice of “zombies-for-hire” doesn’t stop the human heart from falling hopelessly in sappy love.' To Rohrbacker's credit, she appears to have found a way, but for a MIlls & Boon editor hoping to whittle so many first chapters down to twenty five anything with zombie in the title is not going any further. Using a similar form of discernment, stories told in the first person are simply ruled out, as are those that have been written on a drunken whim, such as Janet Lee Nye's Man Maid, 'She runs the hottest cleaning service in town. He’s an undercover private investigator hired by her competition to find some dirt. When the truth comes out, it’s going to get messy.' On second thought, with this many puns Man Maid is an early favourite for victory.

Analysing every entry is a difficult and exhausting task, and the results might well be misleading. Many applicants have offered novels they believe stand a good chance of winning, tailoring their first chapter to the manner of the publisher. Others have written the romance novel they wish they could read, twisting conventions to create an original spin on a well-worn formula. Some have awkwardly tacked on a relationship to their mystery thriller in the hopes of finding a home at Harlequin. The twenty-five lucky chapters available to read and recommend are not necessarily representative of the entries as a whole. The shortlist has been selected by Mills & Boon editors, chosen for their qualities as strong examples of what Mills & Boon seek out. Nevertheless, the transparency of their process is admirable, although the hundreds of chapters and pitches left unselected have been given no reason as to why. We may never know just what was so unpalatable about Butterfly Coffee.

"When would she realize the folly of opening up her heart to men who wanted no part of it?"

2014-09-22T19:49:00.000+01:00

Every year Harlequin Mills & Boon scours the world for new aspiring authors whose dream of being published by Harlequin Mills & Boon is not sufficiently ambitious enough to be considered a dream. As we approach the final few months of whatever historians will call this year the details of So You Think You Can Write have been announced. Much like the trials the publisher traffics in the path to the greatest reward is an arduous battle against tedium with easily surmountable obstacles, at least one arrogant businessman and what at first appears to be a lifetime of happy winnings, but is in fact a series of increasingly miserable compromises. Unlike previous years, however, this year will be slightly improved, albeit largely due to inflation. Not only will there be a weeklong conference and the usual parade of corporate buzzwords masquerading as events, but 2014 introduces the Ultimate Author's Publishing Prize, which really is the ultimate prize an author can receive in publishing.

Those dubbed Best Author in bygone years have had to make do with the indignity of winning a competition for Romance Fiction. This year's champion will instead be honoured with the single largest and most wide-ranging grand prize ever offered for this global contest. This one lucky writer will land a two-book series contract, a series-specific editor, marketing and PR support, as well as social media training and a summit meeting with a creative team. At last, no more will they amateurishly update their Facebook profile and post photographs of their cat on Twitter like an idiot. No, before long they will pow-wow with their imaginative entourage atop mountains. But wait, because just when the prize seems large, wide-ranging and exhausting Mills & Boon will also throw in a gift card for a champagne dinner for two, which will not pay for the meal entirely, but will certainly help.

Before aspiring authors begin to fantasise about the clinking of glasses and endless meetings there is the conference to suitably prepare writers for the challenge. Thankfully the event lasted from the 15th to the 19th of September and has therefore finished. The opening date for entrants is the 22nd and manuscripts can be submitted until November 10th, at which point authors must wait an entire year before this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity again becomes available. For those interested in pursuing their ambition of entering a writing competition the rules are simple. First, write an opening chapter, with a maximum of five thousand words, and a 100-word pitch of what happens during the latter twelve or so chapters, offering greater detail than happily-after-ever and a smiley-face emoticon. Last year there were seven hundred participants. This year the total number of however many entrants can be bothered to enter will be whittled down to twenty-five by the unpaid interns of professional Mills & Boon editors. These qualifiers must then submit a completed novel to be evaluated by the personal assistants of the professional editors. After this second round of judging the twenty-five will become a short-list of ten. These ten books will be posted on this very internet for a public vote over the course of the first week of November.

Last year sixty thousand fans voted, and selected Tanya Wright as their favourite, sending her on the way to wherever she is now. A mere seven or so days after the public voting begins the public voting ends and the grand winner is announced. The next day the victorious writer will sign his or her two-book contract and be jetted to the highest point of their respective country to meet their public relations expert, their stylist, their Twitter-twitterer, their new editor, the Queen of Romance and the amateur model who will stand in for them at photoshoots. The whirlwind nature of this sudden rise to stardom is presumably deliberate, and seems appropriate for the reality of typing and obscurity that is the life of a Mills & Boon author. Tanya Wright was not the only writer to have their life changed marginally by So You Think You Can Write. In fact, seventeen other entrants were signed up by Harlequin. A simple sum of mathematics would suggest that a writer does not even have to make the final round of voting to be considered talented enough for Mills & Boon. This bodes well for anyone considering throwing together the first three thousand and one hundred words they can think of.

What is next for those prospective novelists? The task of putting words on a page is arguably one of the most fundamental aspects of beginning a career in writing. As soon as the competition was announced the deadline for applications approached. Anyone just finding out about this might want to think twice about entering, considering a fifty-five thousand word novel will be expected in about six weeks time. Naturally, for adept romance fiction writers six weeks should plenty. Jill Shalvis could write a perfectly satisfactory Jill Shalvis romance novel in the time it takes to read this sentence. Despite the race against time element, So You Think You Can Write is an opportunity difficult to resist. When else can an aspiring author have an unsolicited manuscript read by a Harlequin editor?

Before excitement threatens to overtake good judgement there are a handful of doubts worth fretting over. Not only does your book have to convince interns, assistants and editors, but it must also manage to impress the notoriously discerning Mills & Boon fanbase, even before publication and the financial windfall. Then there are the other several hundred novels up for selection, some offering debonair sadists, pouting vampires or original archetypes women have not yet realised they have loved since forever. How will niche sub-genres fare against more mainstream, populist offerings? Do authors of the unconventional, the cult or the literary submit their novels to Mills & Boon? Probably not, but that experimental, stream of consciousness romance featuring the disfigured hobo and the world-weary prostitute should probably wait for a more progressive chance of a big break regardless.

For the company behind So You Think You Can Write there is only positive publicity. Naturally, they release the news with a politically-correct statement of betterment. 'Harlequin and Mills & Boon editors believe that by engaging aspiring writers, showcasing the tremendous appeal of the romance genre and offering expert insights into crafting the perfect story, they can help promising novelists hone their skills and achieve their dreams of writing for one of the world’s leading publishers of books for women.' Write on! Admittedly, Bewildered Heart takes issue with dream as the correct choice of word, but the aspiration of the publishing giant, now backed by News Corporation billions, gives them every right to falsely claim an idealistic purpose. The challenge has been challenged, the gauntlet has been thrown down. If you, dear reader, believe you have a romance novel in you, or preferably a romance novel in your desk drawer, now might be the time to dust that thing down, change the name on it from your own to that of a True Blood cast member and start looking up local restaurants that serve champagne and offer gift certificates.

"Though she was still hurt and angry about his lies and deception, all of that was forgotten in an instant"

2014-08-26T17:33:00.003+01:00

The slow progress that is reading The Prince's Cowgirl Bride, and the use of the word progress is misleading, has revealed an insight so obvious Bewildered Heart has never given it much consideration, due to redundancy. Still, the one remarkable issue with the novel is its formulaic approach to character, story and whatever else constitutes a novel. Over the years Harlequin Mills & Boon and its loyal stable of authors have dismissed the notion of a set formula to which their product must adhere. There are no rules and no structures. There are, however, a series of rules and structures that serve as a guide to what will be published. This is not so much a formula as a system of orchestrated parameters that leave authors with little creative freedom to branch out in surprising directions and alter the formula that does not exist.

Romance fiction is not renowned for subversive risk-takers hellbent on overthrowing the norms of the genre, and thus the norms have remained safely in place, with new aspiring authors ready and willing to feed in the same ingredients that led to the novels they were inspired by. Secrets Uncovered insisted that what takes place on the pages of a manuscript is solely up to the writer, limited only by the constraints of imagination, but an overview of a handful of the company's books suggest there are clear identities to romantic heroes and heroines and a series of predictable story structures those characters find themselves within and unable to change. This isn't necessarily the fault of Harlequin. Romance has certain requirements as much as any other genre. No one complains about all the murdering that takes place in crime fiction.

Nevertheless, The Prince's Cowgirl Bride is eye-opening in its dreary parade of requisite scenes. Harlen begins as she means to go on, with the most archetypal of all heroes, the dark, enigmatic, muscular, sensitive, tall and masculine Mac Delgado. He works with his hands, but understands the needs of women. He also happens to be a Mediterranean Prince. Opposite him is Jewel Callahan, who, despite being ten years older than her husband-to-be, is the clichéd, naïve young women of romance, fiercely independent, sexually-inexperienced and nothing without a man. She also has unresolved father issues. There was an opportunity for The Prince's Cowgirl Bride to explore the potentially interesting ramifications of the older woman younger man dynamic, but by making Mac a confident, womanising playboy and Jewel the lonely maid with a short romantic history the characters revert to type. Jewel maybe a business owner, fighting chauvinist clients and the spectre of her successful dad, with Mac her mere employee, but the plot does not play out appropriately. Even the Mills & Boon title implies male ownership, and all the suggested social superiority Jewel has over Mac is a lie, because he is really a Mediterranean Prince.

There is a subsection of the genre that uses secret identities as a central concept. As a result the structure is easy to map out. In other cases, most notably The Truth About the Tycoon, the heroine meets a perfectly eligible bachelor and falls in love with him. The author spends one hundred and eighty pages convincing the reader that the love shared between the couple is real, passionate and eternal. The twist that instigates the third act revolves around the discovery of the lie, betrayal and realisation that the intimacy, honesty, love-making and ever-lasting devotion was, in fact, fraudulent. The reader has been in on this from the beginning, however, warming to the hero, empathising with his reason to lie and shouting at the heroine to open her heart and let him in, whoever he is. But wait! For there is one final twist, as it turns out the man's actual persona is an improvement on the fake one. He isn't a hunky fireman from the wrong side of the tracks, but a billionaire property tycoon who loves saving kittens from trees. Most importantly, of course, the only thing the hero didn't lie about was being single. This leads to a happy ending and further defeat for feminism so straightforward it hardly needs putting into words.

In The Domino Effect, the tables were turned, with the heroine being allowed a secret identity that allowed her to fall in love and murder her prospective husband's mother. Unlike The Truth About the Tycoon, or The Prince's Cowgirl Bride, Domino Black had to entirely reject her actual personality as an unrepentant killer in order to be accepted as wife material. She retired from being an international spy for a top secret branch of the federal government and that seemed to be the least she could do. The Domino Effect might appear to be a victory of sorts, with the heroine taking the role usually afforded to the hero, but whether the failure of Julie Leto's novel was due to this twist or the utterly abject writing is debatable. A character can be redeemed if their dishonestly is a byproduct of a noble objective, such as thwarting terrorism, shirking regal responsibility or sex, and often the guilt the liar feels as they develop feelings softens the extent of the mendacity. After all, if a woman is unable to comprehend that you are lying to them for their own good they are no doubt one of these modern, enlightened women who authoritative CEOs know not to marry.

Another popular standard sees the heroine blackmailed, tricked, bribed or prostituted into a sexual relationship. Typically the hero is a ruthless tycoon, arrogant billionaire or conceited sheikh, which is largely consistent with the genre as a whole. Their power, wealth and success in every field but one, their devastating good looks and personification of charm rather undermines the need to blackmail, trick, bribe or prostitute women into sexual relationships, but the heart wants what the heart wants, and sometimes blackmail is the best means to convince a woman to accompany you to dinner, and perhaps a movie. At first the heroine is flattered by all the attention and is willing to overlook the morally-dubious subtext of the mutually-beneficial transaction due to her attraction to her buyer and a dim understanding of how blackmail works. Slowly the story develops and she has second thoughts, as all the sex she has been bought or blackmailed into having has had negative effects on her self-worth. This allows the author to reach the third act where the heroine walks away from the contract and/or verbal agreement and the hero reconsiders his ways and agrees to continue the relationship, but without the financial compensation. Numerous novels have followed this formula, including Fifty Shades of Grey, The Billionaire's Housekeeper Mistress, Bedded at the Billionaire's Convenience, The Millionaire's Indecent Proposal and the vast majority of books published by Mills & Boon.

The appeal of Solicititilation for a writer is the appearance of extreme obstacles. Typically, buying or renting a lady is not a romantic way to begin a relationship and love rarely blossoms in such circumstances. Therefore hero and heroine have a great distance to travel before their blissful resolution. Why Harlequin authors present themselves with such a challenge is a mystery, but perhaps they believe Pretty Woman made it look easy. If an alpha male is supposed to begin their journey selfish and unable to form a committed union this can be achieved by behaving in a manner not dissimilar to male characters such as Ethan Cartwright and Franco Constantine. After all, if you begin a plot with a woman being blackmailed into sex to save their parents from destitution the reader will assume her knight in shining armour is not going to be the blackmailer. Still, there is nothing so ambitious as the bold, logic-defying attempt of the hero's romantic redemption or the heroine's weak, intelligence-insulting acceptance of a story dictated by her man.

What would a romance novel be without simultaneous character arcs showing two people helping one another to become even more perfect than they were originally? This is the formula Mills & Boon denies and also favours. Most often the hero is unwilling to settle down, due to the regularity in which women throw themselves at him. The heroine's afflictions are singledom and controlling her hair in humidity. As her story begins and she ponders what to do with all these wedding invitations that she won't send out due to Marcus being a rake, a man wanders past with a tin of pomade and a desire to tear down the wildlife enclosure she inherited from her single mother. A tender courtship ensues, allowing him to recognise the many flaws that made him successful, wealthy and universally adored and cure the heroine of not being married and pregnant by marrying and impregnating her. This structure can be experienced through reading the likes of The MacGregor Grooms, The Dad Next Door, Under the Millionaire's Influence, One Night with the Rebel Billionaire, Romantics Anonymous and any other Mills & Boon book that doesn't have a title implying ownership. What makes the standard formula so appealing is the illusion of competence. Here characters grow and change, just like human people, affecting the course of events through their burgeoning personalities, all the way to the happy ending that was never in doubt from the start.

"He'd never had to make more than the minimal effort to get a woman into his bed"

2014-07-27T14:02:00.001+01:00

As if to disprove their most fundamental tenet last week Harlequin Mills & Boon left one billionaire owner for another, as News Corporation bought the publisher from Torstar in a deal worth $415 million. The world's foremost purveyor of romance fiction will now operate as a division of HarperCollins. This news has been met with numerous emotional reactions ranging from the mildly concerned to the entirely disinterested. Corporate take-overs and corporate mergers are popular at present in the publishing industry, and News Corp. has been eager to expand its portfolio of companies, having already toyed with amalgamating with the likes of Hachette, Pan Macmillan and Simon & Schuster. For an idealistic money-maker such as Harlequin, Torstar was no longer the tycoon to keep them in finery. The furtive glances and pebbled nipples of Rupert Murdoch proved too good to turn down. Whereas Torstar has lost the brightness in it eyes and a huge amount of money in recent times, News Corp. is powerful, wealthy, attractive and knows what it is doing when it comes to merging.

There are certain obstacles, however, standing in the way of a happy coupling. News Corp. has been known to be controlling, emotionally distant and megalomaniacal, even going so far as to listen to mobile phone messages without permission. Might it be that they love too much? Whatever, say Mills & Boon, perhaps a little petulantly, those things that took place in the past took place in the past and should not been considered relevant to predicting the future. Critics don't know News Corp. like Harlequin knows News Corp.. They have changed and this time will be different. Through the gentle embrace of Mills & Boon and their tales of true love, innocence and NASCAR News Corporation will soon open their hearts as easily as they open their wallets.

For Murdoch's tyrannical empire, who hope to soon announce the ownership of everything, their motivation for the take-over is obvious. Mills & Boon will become a key piece of their vertical and horizontal strategy. As Forbes Magazine simply explains, HarperCollins wishes to, 'develop vertical niches within publishing to give it economies of scale when marketing to audiences.' Naturally, Harlequin is no longer as young and flexible as they once were, but they remain an established name in the genre, and are hugely successful overseas, whereas HarperCollins are not. Despite this, Mills & Boon have been struggling financially, in the relative terms of a business worth hundreds of millions of dollars annually. Revenues have fallen steadily over the past four years, down almost $100million since 2009. Between 2007 and 2013, mass market print sales declined from $1.1 billion to $373.1 million. In 2013, their CEO, Craig Swinwood, blamed lower sales on book pricing and self-publishing. The electronic market, which Harlequin initially embraced, has negatively affected business. 'Because of aggressive discounting at large online retailers many hardcover titles are being sold at similar or sometimes lower prices than paperbacks.'

Meanwhile, self-publishing is big business. 'In 2013, there were 99 self-published ebook best-sellers.' To put this potentially meaningless sentence into context, 'Hachette, one of the largest publishers in the world, led all publishers with 258; Harlequin was 11th on the list with 21.' Considering many of Hachette's successes were not traditional romances, but from a wide-range of genres, this statistic is so misleading it was perhaps not worth mentioning. Still, the average price of an e-book will soon level out, offering a more dependable insight into future profits. Fortunately for Mills & Boon their new bosses, HarperCollins, know a thing or two about price-fixing e-books. Self-publishing offers numerous advantages to the self-publisher. An author has creative control, and only has to deal with themselves, albeit wearing a different hat. The share of the royalties is greater, seventy per cent compared to fifteen to twenty-five per cent that is traditional for Harlequin writers. Finally and perhaps best, there is no chance of receiving a rejection letter from the company who have recently released books entitled From Enemy's Daughter to Expectant Bride, Cowboy Under the Mistletoe and The Last Good Knight.

In response to an increase in self-publishing, Mills & Boon have attempted to offer more compelling reasons for authors to choose a publishing house. They have introduced Harlequin’s Author Network, 'a dashboard where authors can check sales, get market intelligence and have all their questions answered by a concierge service.' Still, the appeal of self-publishing is strong. Anyone able to cover the cost can publish their own twist on Fifty Shades of Grey, but for the customer there is no difference between those authors choosing artistic freedom and those who would be read any other way. The stamp of Mills & Boon approval guarantees a uniformly indistinguishable level of expectation, but perhaps readers are drawn to the thrill of the unknown found within the abyss of the internet. For News Corp. the prestige of the company name was considered worth the investment. For the money spent, Mills & Boon is a sound purchase. Romance Fiction is a lucrative market, and HarperCollins has placed itself at its centre in a single move.

As for the future, will they seek to make adjustments to the product? Is this positive news for aspiring authors and loyal readers? 'From a reader’s standpoint, it concerns me because Harlequin has always been innovative and tried to bring diverse story lines,' says Jane Litte, founder of Dear Reader. In particular Little singles out Harlequin's ethnic imprints, but their appeal to foreign markets is what made them so appealing to News Corporation. Craig Swinwood attempted to reassure readers in the aftermath of the deal's announcement. 'The Harlequin name and rich heritage will be preserved independently, with the aim to leverage capabilities to bring the book-reading public more choices.' Litte recognises that it is too soon to tell what this will mean for loyal readers, beyond knowing that now there will be a new more reason for feeling dirty and guilty for purchasing a romance novel.

"She took in the chiseled features beneath the thick black hair, the straight nose, the eminently kissable lips"

2014-06-03T20:26:00.001+01:00

When confronted with a romantic novel, not unlike The Prince's Cowgirl Bride, it is difficult not to be reminded of Lynley Stace's article listing the many number of reasons to hate romance novel. As proof perhaps that her ravings were not the irrational womanly opinions of a female, Stace backed up some of her claims by linking to the irrefutable evidence of a source. The source in question was A Billion Wicked Thoughts by the indecently monikered Ogi Ogas and Dr. Sai Gaddam and the chapter of the book that piqued our interest was the eighth, A Tall Man with a Nice Tush. Naturally, because who wouldn't have their head turned by a lanky male bearing impressive facial ivory? Yet A Billion Wicked Thoughts offers more than just appealing chapter titles, as it also contains facts and figures.

Ogas and Gaddam reviewed ten thousand books published between 1983 and 2008. From these hundreds of millions of words they sought the most frequently mentioned male body. The top seven were cheekbones, jaws, brows, shoulders, foreheads, waists and hips. Any true romantic hero features at least three of these, but there are notable absentees. Where are the eyes, arms, buttocks, sixpacks, lips, pectorals and penises? Is forehead a euphemism for hairline? If not, why is the forehead more popular than any other indistinguishable stretch of skin? What is a brow? By brow do authors mean Brad Pitt's eyebrows? Would a billionaire consisting of two cheekbones, a jaw, one brow, a pair of shoulders, a forehead, a waist and a handful of hips be deemed a complete billionaire? How is there no mention of eyelashes, a man's most important characteristic? What kind of scientific survey is this?

While bachelors everywhere alter their beauty regime to place greater emphasis on forehead-upkeep, what do these words teach us about the romance genre? Those readers thinking very little are probably onto something, but aspiring authors would be wise to take heed and update their manuscripts accordingly. A lengthy and detailed forehead description might well be what separates rejection and international glory. Yet any talented novelist will know that simply pointing out that a hero has a forehead is not enough. A forehead, like any body part, requires an adjective to make it come to life. Popular adjective-body part combinations include blue eyes, straight nose, high forehead, square jaw, dark hair, white teeth, sensual mouth, crooked smile, broad shoulders, broad chest, narrow waist, flat stomach, strong arms, big hands, big feet, long legs and powerful thighs. A Billion Wicked Thoughts notes the non-appearance of genitalia, but it seems safe to assume every one of the above can be insinuated to mean impressive length.

Lynley Stace used this article to criticise homogenised and shallow attitudes towards male beauty. The romance genre does not deserve the brunt of the blame for this, although it is guilty of depending upon a classic version of the ideal man. Every alpha male hero is basically the same, save for a handful of superficial differences such as black or brown hair, arrogant or conceited, billionaire or millionaire. Where are the Harlequin heroes with low foreheads, broad waists and narrow chests? Where are the teeth with coffee stains? What about men with small hands and feet? Are those with intellectual mouths doomed to a lifetime of loneliness? Was the Twilight series solely accountable for the inclusion of crooked smile? As critics attempt to shake romance from its rigid understanding of what is worth writing about, and hope to someday see an assorted and healthy range of heroines, it would only be fair if heroes then received their own politically-correct makeover.

The seven most common adjectives to describe a man in the ten thousand novels Ogas and Gaddam searched through were lean, handsome, blond, tanned, muscular, masculine and chiseled. There are no surprises here, besides blond hair being as crucial to desirability as gender and regular exercise. Over the course of reading a small cross-section of Harlequin's product, Bewildered Hearts will recognise these traits as standard, not just in the novels they have read, but also in the photographs of Hugh Jackman on their fridge. Mills & Boon is not responsible for helping short, fat, poor or bald men feel better about themselves. Their novels are escapist fantasies and their heroes are the pinnacles of manly perfection. Variety exists, albeit not especially, as readers will surely know the difference between a Greek tycoon, a Brazilian surgeon, a Sheikh from a country that does not exist and a cowboy from a Mediterranean island that does not exist.

While the target audience wishes to see representation in their heroines, there is no need to imbue heroes with flaws for the sake of anything other than a satisfying storyline. Perhaps this monotony justifies the opinions of those who hate romance. Once you have read one, is there enough diversity to characters, plots and structures to validate continued reading? The study carried out in A Billion Wicked Thoughts does little to prove a tedious repetition of handsome. Gaddam and Ogas have merely proven that romance tends towards cliché and women generally prefer their men to be gorgeous, strapping, healthy and men. This is hardly damning, and not what the investigation of sexual desire even intended to discover. Given the choice of hero, as well as the dream husband, this is the kind of man women choose. After all, a fairy-tale prince is unlikely to suffer any physical defects, besides the occasional curse.

If Harlequin heroes are uniformly attractive in a style an evolutionary psychologist would surely approve of, the originality in romance fiction must come from elsewhere. There seems an unwillingness to challenge the successful rut romance has worked itself into, and culturally there is no need to revolutionise the hero aesthetic. Perhaps fresh and exhilarating adjectives are required, such as wobbly or immense. Perhaps long-forgotten body parts never previously considered erotic can receive recognition. Has the time finally arrived for gratuitous lingering on elbows? Do chin dimples denote wealth and virility? Could the moustache make an overdue comeback? Should the genre take the advice of Lynley Stace and do away with flowery description to just get on with telling a story? Is it possible no changes will be made at all? For certain it is the readers who will decide, but some of those options sound more plausible than others.

"Six years on the rodeo circuit had disillusioned Jewel about a lot of things"

2014-05-21T19:27:00.000+01:00

For even the most world-weary of romance fans, Bewildered Hearts should still be wary of the occasional subversion to the archetypes of Mills & Boon. Plots and characters rarely deviate from the formulas that have served the publisher so prosperously. Therefore when a novel such as The Prince’s Cowgirl Bride appears the cynical reader would be forgiven for wondering how Brenda Harlen’s book ever got past the hopeful manuscript stage. The title suggests a prince and a cowgirl fall into wedlock, either naturally or through blackmail, and while this is the case the titular prince is a good decade younger than the inappropriately named cowgirl of the title. Yet, due to oversight, idealism or perhaps Friday afternoon cocktails at the office, this Special Moments offering has indeed made it into book form and Bewildered Heart has struggled through the opening three chapters and therefore an incredulous review is acceptable.

Jewel Callahan runs a stable for racing horses somewhere in rural United States. She inherited the business from her disapproving father and has been attempting to win the endorsement of adult men ever since. As a result, she has failed as a woman, reaching her mid-thirties with neither a husband nor a baby. Her beautiful, lively and charismatic sister, Crystal, has married and also manages a renowned bakery. This only reinforces the notion that something is wrong with Jewel, beyond her preference for horses over male companionship, baking cakes and babies. There is trouble at the stables, as Russ has found a woman of his own and handed in his notice. Now Jewel must deal with the most arduous task any person can face, recruitment. If only a tall, handsome, qualified, unemployed stranger would walk into her life during this very sentence…

Meanwhile, on a small Mediterranean island that does not exist, Marcus Santiago of Tesoro Del Mar is facing up to the reality of what it means to be a handsome young Prince. It seems he cannot even idly rest in the lap of luxury without a beautiful girl throwing herself at him. Sigh! Having no regal obligations, he is free to gallivant the globe and study at whichever prestigious school he pleases, all while beautiful girls throw themselves at him. After presumably graduating from Harvard he travels across the United States, winding up in the same small-town backwater bakery Crystal owns, just in time to hear Jewel complain of being short-staffed. This term could never be used to describe Marcus, and so he introduces himself as Mac Delgado, turns and delivers a foal and is promptly rewarded with a two week trial.

Jewel is reluctant to hire the most beautiful man she has ever seen despite his display of veterinary competence and muscular torso. He may know his way around a horse and a gym, but what he offers in masculinity he lacks somewhat in biographical detail. Still, her stable is a couple cowboys short of a hoedown, if you forgive the technical parlance, and seeing as how the alternative is trawling through resumes and interviewing people, Jewel wisely decides to employ the first person she sees. Moreover, Crystal is delighted with the spontaneous hiring, and believes Mac to be eligible husband material for her sister based upon his appearance and lack of employment. Jewel’s stable has been a couple of cowboys short of a rodeo for many years now, if you forgive the vulgar euphemism, and seeing as how the alternative is trawling the internet and dating people, Crystal wisely decides to set Jewel up with the first person she sees.

The attraction between hero and heroine is palpable, and oft-mentioned by a narrator intent on heavy-handedness. Yet despite their shared magnificence Jewel cannot see herself marrying Mac. After all, she is ten years older than him and women over twenty-six are physically disgusting. Yet the age difference does not concern Mac because, as with all idealised men, he just happens to be into that. In his favour, however, a lifetime of cleaning stalls has been kind to this business owner and part-time jockey. She is as pretty as a twenty-something, and has all the sexual experience of a female character in a Harlequin romance. Her good looks captivate the secret Prince immediately, and he barely notices Crystal, a far more attractive woman and about his age. From this promising beginning the opening chapters contain bridled passion, as the flirtatious couple find ways to be alone and further ways not to touch, setting the probable trend for the rest of the novel, give or take a kiss and maybe a few rides around the paddock.

Due perhaps to its one surprising element, The Prince’s Cowgirl Bride compensates with stereotypes and clichés in all other areas. Mac is a modern hero, keen to shirk responsibility by marrying and starting a family. Harlen does not want her reader to doubt his credentials as sensitive alpha male, foregoing the usual trial of the hero overcoming conceitedness by making him thoroughly decent from the outset. There seems only one obstacle between him and his happy ever after, and that is his duty as Prince of a small Mediterranean island that does not exist. Can he leave his family and God-given birthright, throw it all away to co-manage a stable with the dream woman of his ten year older self? Will Mac sacrifice something he doesn’t want for sex?

The difficulties for Jewel are numerous and easily overcome. She must save her business, and the non-profit charity she runs in her spare time, possibly by riding one of her abandoned horses to victory in a local derby. She must prove to the friends of her father that she is a worthy successor and can be trusted in running the stables. She must begin to respect herself without the affection of her father and believe herself worthy of the perfect man. She must discover that her perfect man is nothing more than the invention of a bored playboy in the country illegally on an expired visa. She must quickly realise that his lying was fine with her and marry whoever he really is anyway. Only then will she truly have everything, including a tiara, the ultimate prize for any modern woman.

Why Brenda Harlen felt it necessary to introduce an age gap remains to be read, but it appears to be another neurosis for Jewel to fight past. The split narrative perspective serves little purpose when every rummage around Mac’s brain reveals little but the conflict between masculine arousal and gentlemanly restraint. The heroine has more than just her horses riding on the outcome of her romance, but the love story is not threatened by external forces. Whereas Accidental Princess was structured around the rules of the aristocracy and threw in a relationship to complicate matters, the reader has no understanding of the customs of a Mediterranean island that does exist. If the stable fails Jewel always has royalty to fall back on, and if the stable succeeds what stops Mac from staying in whichever part of West Virginia the novel is set in? The only thing prohibiting Jewel and Mac from getting together, besides all of the deceit, is Jewel’s refusal to believe she is the heroine of a romantic fantasy.

"He was hot and smelled like horses, if not worse"

2014-04-30T22:43:00.000+01:00

Besides the obvious and credible reasons to hate Romance Fiction there are several less obvious, but equally credible, reasons to hate Romance Fiction that defenders of the genre rarely attempt to dismiss. Lynley Stace, weblogger and co-creator of Slap Happy Larry, has collected ten reasons and displayed them helpfully as a list for easy reference. If your aversion towards Romance stems from out-dated gender roles authors and publishers are eager to explain that much work has been done to contemporise misogyny so it feels fresh and recognizable to women living and suffering billionaires today. If upon learning this you remain disinclined to read a Mills & Boon, or any novel with love or shopping in the title, there is no need to panic or embarrass yourself at a dinner party. Here are several more excuses for politely refusing a reading suggestion.

Numbers one to three fall under the same umbrella of disappointment, language skills. ‘Liberal splatterings of adjectives and adverbs, and in romance it’s okay to make use of adverbs in dialogue tags as well. This often leads to sloppy dialogue.’ Unintentionally comical euphemisms for body parts are considered proof of Romance’s ineptitude, but this does a disservice to the hundreds of sentences that are not sex-related. Adverbs tend to add clarification, but are often redundant and slow the story. Literary giants avoid them, but they remain tempting to romantics, unschooled in the craft of economical writing. Adjectives should be used sparingly. However, when struggling with a lack of momentum, Romance writers bulk out their books with scenes of staring and description. Tales of happy love are told at a leisurely pace, stopping on occasion to smell roses and have sex. As a result, the prose becomes personable and relaxed. Readers are not interested in skillfully edited examples of Raymond Carver-style writing. They wish to enjoy the journey. They know the destination before they start.

Due perhaps to the simplified nature of the readership, romantic prose rarely demands cognitive scrutiny. Why use subtlety when the repeated use of emotional exposition is so much more understandable? By constantly describing the unchanging thoughts of the heroine via an omnipotent third person narrator the characters are saved from doing things and making decisions as a means of revealing personality or developing plot. Instead the story can concentrate on aspirational affluence and handsomeness until enough words have been written. Speaking of Hugh Jackman, chiseled features are Stace’s next object of hatred yet criticising Romance novels for idealizing physical appearance is unreasonable. ‘The leading man must be attractive to female readers,’ says Stace. Would female readers, or romance readers as they are also known, find the same satisfaction in a disfigured or grotesque billionaire hero? How many copies of The Greek Tycoon’s Really Great Personality would sell?

Bearing in mind that hero and heroine must be married by the book’s conclusion physical attraction is a requirement, but Stace may be right to condemn the stock standard form of beauty Romance rarely deviates from. Yet given the worldwide appeal of the genre there is no longer a dependence on, ‘Well-known Western Beauty Ideals.’ Characters come from every corner of the globe, the men always muscular and tall, the women always attractive to the men. There have been unconventional heroines in recent years, from the overweight to the over-thirty, but as Stace notes, the female lead, ‘must have something wrong with her, but nothing that would put a potential suitor off.’ Secrets Uncovered taught us why hair frizzes on sunny days, as an easy means of humanizing a character who might otherwise be perfect with her life only about to become more perfect. Continuing on a theme, has Romance Fiction ruined itself by insisting that the eyes of its handsome heroes always match their suit, tie or the sky? This cliché might say more about a heroine whose attraction causes her to see such complements, rather than the idea that gorgeous billionaires know what colour nature is. We will perhaps never know the truth, at least until Lynley Stace has to chance to ask a few gorgeous billionaires.

Next, ‘In these times of premarital sex and mobile phones, it’s harder and harder to contrive a reason why the two of them shouldn’t just get together from the off.’ Any author dedicated to a semblance of reality will struggle to keep the inseparable pair of beautiful, single people from either God-bothering intercourse or texting. Thus the reader is treated to a series of contrivances that Stace calls conflict. All stories require conflict to be stories, but hackneyed excuses, lazy plotting and unoriginal obstacles are a curse to every genre, and should not be tolerated in Romance just as they should not be tolerated anywhere else. When a concept is fundamentally flawed, and Romance novels are guilty of starting on shaky footing, no amount of emotional conflicts will convince the reader that the characters are acting realistically. Yet to make the Happy Ever After convincing the reader must see the couple interact, develop feelings and reveal true selves. Mills & Boon insist that the hero and heroine cannot be parted physically, meeting two or three times a chapter in expensive locations to gaze upon one another’s beauty and marvel at one another’s intelligence, wit and kindness. Without credible antagonism or human frailty the books end up as an interminable succession of inevitability delays.

To conclude Stace relies on what many romantics will have expected from the beginning. ‘Heteronormative, matrimonial ideals are somewhat outdated.’ Nothing says your characters lived happily until death quite like marriage and procreation, except perhaps saying they lived happily until death. Nevertheless, until the majority of humanity stop with heterosexual, committed relationships publishers will continue pushing conservative values that have remained unchallenged for centuries. As for describing intimacy, ‘Sex scenes can feel cringe-worthy or wrong, because everyone’s sexual response is different.’ This is a subjective view of subjectivity. In the hundreds of thousands of sex scenes that appear in every romance novel an understanding of sensuality should materialise, suggesting that humans are animals and all of them are essentially the same. Still, there are worrying elements to these scenes, as Stace points out. ‘In romance we’re fed this idea that the way a woman looks to a man is the most important thing in the sex act. Her sexual response depends on the approval of a man.’

The article goes on to criticise an example told in third person but from the man’s perspective for the cheesy, pandering way the virginal heroine is represented by the author and the hero. Of course, Stace could have picked numerous scenes from any number of novels where the sex is described from the heroine’s point of view had she any inclination to read them. These would have shown the other four senses all receiving a mention, although not many would have portrayed women as sexual beings with their own desires and confidence. Lynley Stace makes a handful of valid arguments, as well as several that do not hold up to close examination, but those who do not enjoy Romance Fiction and do not read it are not required to justify why. There are plenty of Bewildered Hearts, such as Bewildered Heart, who read a great many titles, research the subject thoroughly and hate with an overabundance of information to back them up. Disinterested critics who believe Elizabeth and Darcy made a mistake in marrying should leave the rejection of Romance to the fans of the genre who have worked hard to earn their bitter cynicism.

"Personal relationships aren't team sports"

2014-03-31T20:29:00.000+01:00

Previously on Bewildered Heart we discussed the numerous arguments romance fiction fans have mounted in defence of their favourite kind of writing. Due to the frequency and quantity of these opinion pieces it might appear as if critical maulings occur regularly, requiring a steady stream of justified rebukes. Yet Romance exists in an isolated vacuum, much like actual couples, and within these confines the genre treats itself generously. Critics review new novels with the understanding of their place within the literary canon. Award ceremonies do not include books from other genres. Websites and weblogs dedicate themselves solely to Romance, as if the wider world of aliens, dystopian societies, families, and teenage girls battling aliens, dystopian societies and their families somehow aren't noteworthy.

For a Bewildered Heart to demonstrate the vitriol romance defenders object to there is an absence of essays and articles to cut and paste from. Instead we make do with a silence from intellectuals with better things to do than read the latest publications from Mills & Boon, and we simply cannot cut and paste silence to fill our monthly Google blog quota. Still, to not be taken seriously is affront enough if, of course, you wish to be taken seriously. Considering the wealth of reactions from readers, writers, editors, reviewers and self-proclaimed experts such a desire exists. The crux of the argument comes down to the mass market. Does Romance cross-over with reviews in journals and newspapers and discussions on the late night chat show circuit. Numerous other genres are not treated in this manner, with their own dark and dusty sections in bookshops and never featured in the Times Literary Supplement, so why Romance?

Some put mainstream dismissal down to misogyny. There was a time that considered love as worthy a subject for literature, theatre and poetry as honour or horses. 'Sociologists have long recognized a phenomenon called “feminization,” which means that anything that becomes associated solely with women falls in general esteem.' So says Jennifer Crusie, a woman, in Defeating The Critics: What We Can Do About the Anti-Romance Bias. Her typically melodramatic female reaction suggests that the genre is universally condemned because it threatens the patriarchal establishment. This is achieved because Romance tells uncomfortable truths that men and some feminists don't want to acknowledge, such as heroines are equal to heroes, sex is as vital to women as it is to men, love is powerful and justifies fiction, women coo at babies in supermarkets, no one really enjoys responsibility, women need relationships and happy ever afters are not delusional fantasies dangerously out of touch with reality.

Bearing this in mind what can we do to fight against oppressive rejection? 'We can argue that romance fiction is maligned because it’s so threatening to rigid political and academic structures.' Yet ultimately, Crusie argues, this is unnecessary. Firstly, men and most feminists are bad listeners, and secondly, 'We don’t write to please establishments, we write to reach women.' This sounds suspiciously similar to what untalented authors, musicians and filmmakers say about their lousy books, music and movies. Therefore, is there a more grandiose way in which to spell out that sentiment? 'By writing good books we counteract decades of pessimism with narratives of realistic optimism, we break through knee-jerk limitations on women imposed by both the political right and left, and we refute the sterile elitism of current literary criticism.' You go, girls.

All this proud resolve masks an obvious flaw in the pro-Romance rhetoric. The genre enjoys its status as an outsider ignored by the establishment, yet as we are repeatedly told Romance fiction is the largest and most lucrative sector in publishing. Romance, despite its protestations, is the commercial establishment. When the likes of Crusie speak of crossing over, what would they like Romance to cross-over to? Is there a larger audience for a genre that already enjoys the largest audience of the written word? As exemplified by corporate juggernauts such as Harlequin Mills & Boon, Romance is the bloated big business that critics have always railed against, from pop music to Hollywood blockbusters. Still, generalising the genre into a single style, title or notion is misguided. As with anything else, there is the mainstream, the alternative and the independent. Anything mass-produced, indiscernible in content and low on quality will rightfully be chastised for lowest common denominator money-grabbing.

Romance does not require voices of support because its dominance can withstand any amount of disapproval, but it is not immune from criticism, even if such judgements can be fancifully rebuffed as sexist, snobbish or pretentious. Besides this hugely successful genre would be foolish to discount all of the constructive negativity it does not receive from a powerful authority that doesn't exist. The reason Mills & Boon products are not favourably compared to Jane Austen or the poems of John Donne is not a result of institutionalised sexism, but because modern romance does not favourably compare to anything critics think highly of. Nevertheless, there are acclaimed authors writing love stories with happy endings, and their recognition elevates them above genre, but in the homogenized world of Harlequin plaudits are earned through quantity. The majority of Mills & Boon novelists churn out more books in a year than Austen managed in her lifetime. Carefully-plotted stories, strong characters and believable dialogue are not organic by-products of this profit-driven, slapdash approach.

There is, of course, another flaw to the pro-Romance rhetoric. The disparagement it has received over the last few decades has a degree of justification. While Mills & Boon has staked its place as the least the genre has to offer, the examples to have broken into the public consciousness have been met with equal disdain. The Twilight and Fifty Shades series are not the ambassadors the genre would have chosen for emotional depth and strong female role models. Both are ineptly-written, sexist and tedious reads with poorly-drawn characters and narratively-redundant sequences. As a consequence Romance fiction has to stand up for itself once again, pushing readers to seek out the finest quality erotic and paranormal fantasies available. Yet it is understandable that those in need of convincing will not want to sacrifice anymore time on being convinced.

Romance has taught us many things. Thick eyelashes are a man’s most essential body part. Beautiful twenty-seven year old virgins are plentiful. Blackmail always leads to eternal love. Still, the life-altering epiphany that the genre is responsible for is that love is difficult and rewarding. Firstly, because the ideal man is attempting to tear down the wildlife park your adoptive parents fought their lives to preserve so he can build luxury casinos. Secondly, because in his arrogance he has offered you the money you need to save the animals in exchange for sex. Thirdly, because he is secretly a royal prince of a small island on the French Riviera. Finally, love takes courage, faith in yourself, faith in the most handsome billionaire you have ever seen, and a confidence that happiness is there for those who open themselves to experience it. Believing in your favourite genre requires faith that if the proof of Romance fiction’s brilliance is out there critics and a wider readership will discover where the good stuff has been hiding and know the difference.

"He didn't think Jewel was the type of women to care that he was royalty"

2014-02-27T19:55:00.000+00:00

Every so often someone speaks out in defence of Romance Fiction. This is usually unnecessary, apropos of nothing and achieving of little. Despite this, as long as there are those who negatively criticise there will be others responding with the positivity and evidence that not everything is awful. To coincide with the month of St. Valentine, National Public Radio have offered Don't Hide The Harlequins, an essay by Wisconsin's favourite daughter, Bobbi Dumas, a reviewer for Kirkus Media and a founding contributing editor of HowToWriteShop.com. Let's meet her. 'Hi, my name's Bobbi.' Hi, Bobbi! 'I read romance.' This is an excellent start, but enough small-talk, we should begin the article by naming the first romantic novel we ever read at the tender age of twelve. 'I saw the book — The Fortunes of Love by Caroline Courtney — in a library, and I was hooked by the cover. Something about that man and that woman — his enigmatic hover, her sideways glance — spoke to me. This was a couple who was meant to be together but hadn't figured it out yet. They were attracted but distrustful.'

Caroline Courtney was an early pseudonym of the late Penny Jordan and The Fortunes of Love was first published in 1980 by Warner Books. It tells the tale of The Duke of Strathavon, who may have the ladies of Bath all agog, but his charms have no effect on Davinia Sinclair, because a gypsy had told her she would marry a man whose name began with M, possibly the dashing treasure-hunter Lord Maunsell. What unfolds is presumably predictable, the feisty Regency heroine and her wealthy pursuer finding love against all the odds. Nevertheless, the child Bobbi Dumas was hooked. 'This book was what I'd been looking for, a glimpse into the commingled elation and vulnerability of falling in love, losing that love, regaining it.' Finally, a tawdry nineteenth century-set love story every twelve year old girl can relate to.

What was it that struck such a chord with Bobbi Dumas that her affection for romance has lasted a lifetime? 'It was emotional and sweet and scary, and the moment those characters admitted their love for each other in the end, after everything, in spite of everything — because of everything — I felt such bittersweet joy. They were together, happy, in love.' This sounds delightful and not dissimilar to what Mills & Boon authors often attempt in their own novels, but just as in real life one happy ending is never enough. 'It was a romantic rush, but the book was over — so I went to find another one.' Dumas' brief autobiographical insight will sound familiar to anyone fighting on the battleground either for or against addiction to romance fiction. Dependency begins innocently enough, a trip to the library, an intriguing semi-erotic photograph, some staring at words, a dizzying high and then the painful withdrawal. Like jazz music or the films of Michael Bay, Romance is the pinnacle of the literary medium. 'Once you go romantic you'll never go back tic,' as the saying goes. Reading is no longer reading unless it concludes with two people locked in an eternal embrace, blissful and perpetually pregnant.

As we know from bitter experience, of course, a romance fan's journey is never complete without a little antagonism from the usual places. 'My mom, a teacher, thought romances were beneath me. My school librarian gave me her disapproving look when I checked out more romances from the bookmobile. And my best friend's mother told me I should be ashamed for reading such trash.' Romance is not all roses, chocolates, thick eyelashes, sunshine and glistening forearms. No guilty pleasure comes without a certain amount of guilt attached. Peers and superiors are sure to find fault with reading habits that fall below an intellectual threshold of their own definition. Unless we are challenging ourselves how shall we ever improve? Bobbi Dumas has found a strong defence, however, by using impressively long words and casually insulting other genres. 'I was fascinated, by the road-to-love storylines, and the psychological metamorphoses that had to take place in order to overcome internal and external conflicts, so that these two people could earn their happily ever after. To me, those were every bit as interesting as my mother's whodunnits or my sister's sci-fi and fantasy excursions — and far more touching!' Precisely, there are no emotional journeys in genres besides romance, unless by psychological metamorphoses Bobby Dumas means a character arc, because those are a fundamental cornerstone of every story.

Nevertheless, pointing out that Pride and Prejudice is a romance, with all the alpha masculinity, nipple pebbling and supermarket baby cooing fans have come to expect from the genre, does not alleviate the guilt from all the negative connotations associated with Mills & Boon. But why? 'Why is our devotion to this lovely, affirming storytelling something we should hide, or apologize for?' Exactly, Bobbi. Why? 'Why this intellectual idea that romance is something to look down on? We know that many intelligent, educated women read it.' The sales figures speak for themselves, thus explaining why articles have stopped quoting the large sums of money earned last year. There are indications that Dumas is building towards the perceptive piece of wisdom that will reveal why romance is enjoyed by billions of people and scorned by everyone else. Unfortunately, expecting a Happily Ever After from an essay about romance fiction is misguided, at best.

Perhaps there are no reasons because there is no actual problem. If Dumas ever did feel ashamed it was probably due to being twelve. She certainly does not feel ashamed nowadays. Instead she is so proud to proclaim her love for romance fiction that she has penned an editorial for NPR. Generally, her fellow love junkies are not embarrassed by their bookshelves either. Equally importantly, perhaps, the genre is not critically disparaged, although the blandly homogenized, mass produced mainstream of it is, but this is the case with every area of culture. When it comes to the most fervent voices of disdain and ridicule the solution is the obvious combination of saturation and political manipulation. 'Even if you don't read romances, there's a lot to be proud of in a successful industry that is so dominated and influenced by women. In romance, we are the creators, the intended audience and the receptive consumer, showing our appreciation through astronomical sales. Female writers writing for female readers about traditionally female interests.' The advice for those who avoid the genre due to the negative opinions of teachers, mothers and school librarians is to ignore all that and try reading one for yourself. As for those dismissive teachers, mothers and school librarians, who knows what their problems are. Maybe they are bad feminists or science fiction fans, or a mixture of the two. Dumas may not be able to offer any explanations, but she does suggest further reading for anyone convinced enough by a message of follow your heart, ignore your elders and just stop pretending you are better than this.

"You don't strike me as the type to carry lucky stones in his pocket"

2014-02-17T17:37:00.000+00:00

Valentine's Day happened, as inevitable and aggressive as always, leaving everyone with little choice but to try and enjoy it. While the cynical and desperately alone might wish to see the non-holiday as a commercial enterprise pushed by a capitalist elite to fleece money from the masses through emotional bribery, those who know what is good for them invariably partook in romantic declarations of affection using greeting cards, flowers, chocolates, restaurant tables or small acts of kindness, which are free and therefore worthless. Naturally assuming cheapskates and the unimaginative may turn to the internet in search of inspiration, romance outlets offered their own timely insights, articles and essays on fictional loving. There are reasons for this besides it being early February, as Harper's has noted that the industry is worth $1.4 billion, and thus a suitable subject for a subscription-only magazine. Last summer they sent their intrepid editor, Jesse Barron, to the Romance Novel Convention in Las Vegas where, 'Professionals and novices alike pool resources, share ideas and generally have a love fest.' Described more accurately, 'The convention is a five-day smattering of trite classes, cheesy entertainment and a costume ball.'

Over at the thankfully free National Public Radio, Arun Rath asked Barron several questions concerning the experience, copied down the responses and submitted the series of words to the website. Barron appeared particularly interested in the male cover model who emceed the event, but within the numerous facts and anecdotes about what it takes to be handsome and often shirtless there are a handful of other points that can be copied from NPR and turned into an article for Bewildered Heart, to coincide with Valentine's Day and satisfy a necessary obligation for a weblog about romance fiction. First and perhaps most important is the nature of the female protagonist. Who is she? Where is she going? What is she buying from that supermarket? What's wrong with her hair? Is it because of the hot weather?

According to Barron, newest and thus foremost, expert on all things romance, 'She's gotta be tough, but she can't be cold, she can't be whiny ... and if she's got those walls up, you must show her vulnerability. She is just like the reader.' Unlike the reader, however, she has to be desirable to billionaires, and tough. The walls in question are proverbial walls that the hero must knock down with his sledgehammer of empathy. When the heroine's father abandoned both her and her determined single mother she retreated into a shell, refusing to trust her heart to anyone else in case it was broken once again. Her pursuer must become a surrogate by means of being male and older, while proving through the repeated use of a penis that he will never leave, allowing her to cast off the protective layer of emotional insensitivity and love with her entire self. While this example is just a single potential option it appears to be the only one authors have chosen to use.

On the topic of the writing craft, or the craft of writing, Barron explains that there is one thing we all have to understand. 'One thing that you have to understand if you're gonna get into writing romance is that the things that are valued in that genre are not the same things that are valued when we read something like literary fiction. So you're gonna want to hone your prose until its extremely clear, it's very, very fast, the dialogue is funny and the plots are really engaging.' All seemingly important things, and while comprehensible prose, funny dialogue and engaging stories are not rated significant for works of literary fiction, we must recognise that romance and literature are different, with value systems that are not the same, and should be treated accordingly. From there, naturally, we turn to infidelity. 'Heroes and heroines in romances never, ever cheat ... it's really about the relationship between two people and the way that they gradually become more vulnerable to each other over time.' By cheating Barron means casual dating, and by ruling out alternative suitors the author is able to concentrate on the actual plot, which deals with the initially emotionally-frozen characters slowly recognise their estranged parents in the manner of their prospective partners and allow themselves to indulge in intense feelings before married life rather takes the edge off.

With the latest trends of the genre covered it is time for business and the real reason for all this lovely intimate sweetness. Money. 'It's estimated that about 60 percent of all romance novels are e-books, and that's compared with about 40 percent of trade fiction. Literary fiction does not get along well with e-books and self-publishing because it takes too long to write, and e-books are cheap. So e-books will favor writers who can write schematically, quickly.' No one writes more quickly than the authors of Mills & Boon, and if, by chance, Barron uses such words as schematic and quick as euphemisms for bad or amateurish, this is not problematic either, as no one writes more ineptly than the authors of Mills & Boon. Bearing this potentially good news in mind, however, the chances of an upturn in quality appear ever dimmer, but at least now there is alternative to blaming the publisher. The fault clearly lies with the consumers and the internet. Thanks, internet.

We conclude, as we always seem to, with photographs of handsome men. 'Romance is published, written, edited, bought by women. Ninety to ninety-five percent of romance readers are women. The one exception in the industry is male cover models.' When it comes to cheap imitations of a smouldering Hugh Jackman, positioned provocatively and somewhere glamorous, in a clinch with a female equivalent of Hugh Jackman, such a stock picture can cost anywhere from $15 to $300. As to how this wide a range of price is possible Barron does not elaborate, but beauty beholders will no doubt acknowledge the vast handsomeness divide between a Hugh Jackman and a non-Hugh Jackman. Did you know that, 'Authors have even figured out what kinds of cover poses are more likely to make customers swoon?' Apparently they have, thus explaining chin-holding, finger-pointing, distance-staring, torso-bearing and crotch-emphasis that has become the standard over these last few decades of tinkering. For genuine interests on romance fiction, Harper's Magazine is willing to share Barron's investigation in exchange for a small annual fee. For a retread of what you already know, lovers are advised to stay with the one they are with. Sound wisdom, whatever disappointment that befell you this Valentine's Day.

"She’s got an unlikely ally in her undercover ruse: a lab technician who just happens to be a special agent"

2014-01-12T20:10:00.000+00:00

If the very thought of combining adventure and intimate coupling calls to the core of you, but the idea of travelling, fighting, crime-solving and intimate coupling fills you with the heebie jeebies then perhaps a career in novel-writing is a more palatable ambition. Now, as the very thought of combining adventure and intimate coupling within the safe confines of sentences calls to the core of you, Bewildered Heart has helpfully detailed two appropriate imprints for such things, Love Inspired Suspense, for thrill-seeking Christians, and Intrigue, for inquisitive agnostics. In the unlikely event that aspiring authors fall between these two worldviews Harlequin offers another alternative. With anticipation bubbling at levels that can only be described as negligible there seems little reason to hold off introducing Romantic Suspense any longer, and so, website guidelines, what exactly is Romantic Suspense? 'These novels are romance-focused stories with a suspense element.' There you have it. With definitions as solid as this, is there even a need for a continued use of words?

The continued use of words suggests that further explanation is necessary, so onwards we go. 'Powerful romances are at the heart of each story, and the additional elements of excitement, adventure and suspense play out between complex characters.' With an emphasis on romance and suspense the imprint could not have been more aptly named. As with every novel worth its weight in paper, the books of Romantic Suspense recognise the importance of good writing, and therefore refrain from boring story-lines and weak characterisation. Yet in order to construct a manuscript capable of reaching a quality that can only be described as publishable by Harlequin, there are several other key elements to note, which we hope are more specific than the initial ones. 'Big, sweeping romances amid dangerous and suspenseful settings.' The message is obvious and more than a little repetitive, but is there another way to iterate this point with synonymous adjectives? 'Strong, compelling romance drives the stories but is matched by dramatic and layered plots.' Unlike the suspiciously similar subgenres previously out-lined where the action was expected to be secondary to love or religion the possibly incorrect use of 'matched' suggests Romantic Suspense gives equal standing to both parts of its name. Unless, of course, such an indication is immediately contradicted.

'Romantic Suspense novels are fueled by the romance and not the suspense.' The conundrum of this underwhelming statement is indicative of the subgenre's inherent narrative problems. In a suspenseful situation, where characters are threatened by violence, death or seeing their empire crumble, the high stakes of the unfolding drama naturally take precedence over the emotional feelings of the hero and heroine. Downplaying the action, as a means to retain the priority of the love story, trivialises the struggle and squanders the tension. The focus of any story should be on its most interesting constituent. For romance to work the narrative must concentrate on the mind games and power struggle that idealists call courtship. More significantly, what is at the forefront of the drama must be deserving of its attention. Traditionally, Romance has solved this by jettisoning anything else remotely diverting, splitting devotion equally between the dripfeed of back-story explaining the protagonists' inability to commit and the forward momentum of them over-coming these obstacles and committing. This, perhaps optimistically, is thought to be more than enough for fifty thousand words of story-telling. Once an orphan, medicine, a kidnapping, or a war is introduced to enliven proceedings, but not over-shadow the central plot, romance writers have tended to run into trouble.

There are means to compensate for the difficulty in finding this balance. Romantic Suspense asks for a word count between seventy to seventy-five thousand to allow for, 'A wider breadth of story and potential for subplots that speak to the conflicts.' With these twenty thousand extra words authors are invited to flesh out their scenarios, characters and themes without having to skimp on the elements that conventional romance often deems superfluous. Due to this, however, there are expectations that the novels are more strongly developed, satisfying, and with an, 'Emotional payoff to fit with the larger-than-life stories.' This makes for a challenge not unlike those faced by non-romance authors, but Bewildered Hearts will have noticed that what Mills & Boon says it wants is not always what Mills & Boon is happy to make do with. Nevertheless, a greater word count, but the allowance of subplots and adventure, might appear more attractive to aspiring novelists than only fifty thousand words, but no discernible plot at all.

To give an indication of what the editors consider classic themes and acceptable conflicts, here is a list of things: 'Revenge, women in jeopardy, espionage, family, Westerns, military and law enforcement.' This is a variety of options, each suggestive of action and bloodshed. Several of them already exist as niche imprints, while Women In Jeopardy was the original name of the romance genre. As a result of the gamut of heroic career choices, including but not limited to, vigilantes, spies, fathers, cowboys, cops and soldiers the novels can be set in any country on the planet, although this is true of all subgenres with the exception of Spanish. On the subject of artistic freedom Romantic Suspense can be written anywhere on the sliding scale of sensuality, with sex scene number ranging from zero to the highest number the author can count to. There seems to only be one constraint and that is for nothing paranormal. If a manuscript contains anything paranormal the most suitable imprint for it would be Paranormal.

All this discussion of story and what passes for theme has caused the guidelines to forget the most important part of romance writing, characters. 'Relatable heroines in extraordinary circumstances - swept into the arms of powerful heroes.' This sounds standard and suggests that cosmic destiny brought about by the wrong end of a sword is the suspenseful version of a meet cute. The heroine is the sense of normality keeping the action tethered to credibility, with her understandably alarmed reactions to pirates, jewel theft, her family and jeopardy grounding the spectacular adventure. Yet other than the aforementioned power, how else should the leads be defined? Something to do with force? 'The hero should be a force to contend with, and the heroines are equally complex, strong and smart.' There are no damsels in distress to be found here, and if the heroine is rescued by a dashing alpha male it is because she wants to be saved, not because she has to be. Still, a less than clear picture has emerged from a handful of sentences that could have been copied from any of the other subgenre pages, with the exception of Spanish.

As we discovered from Love Inspired Suspense and Intrigue, Mills & Boon have taken to using long-running television procedurals as an idea of what they are looking for, because no one reads books anymore. 'Romantic Suspense is Criminal Minds, Bones or The Good Wife for their solid levels of story, three-dimensional characters and varying levels of suspense with strong romantic themes, witty dialogue and lives and hearts on the line.' Naturally, none of these programmes concentrate on developing their love stories above all else, with Bones seemingly interested only in delivering exposition to the detriment of drama. Still, there maybe inspiration to be gleamed from the likes of The Good Wife, a glossy courtroom soap-opera starring actors from other more popular shows, and whatever Criminal Minds is. As with all of Harlequin's implied requests this advice might be worth following, just as long as it isn't followed particularly closely.

"Sounds like he's either a philosopher or a romantic"

2013-12-27T15:44:00.000+00:00

There are many problems facing an aspiring romance fiction author. Secrets Uncovered offered assistance, reminding us that heroes must be men, heroines must be women, endings must be happy and words must describe things. Their aversion to external conflict was noted, but any writer hoping to fill a book's worth of paper with sentences might be trepidatious when faced with the prospect of turning boy-blackmails-girl into fifty-five to sixty thousand combinations of letters. Delaying one conversation for twelve chapters is a challenge for even the most skilled of story-teller, perhaps explaining why the most skilled of story-tellers tend to steer clear of romance fiction, but certain subgenres have found means to avoid flagging second acts by concentrating on things other than womanly dithering and manly T-shirt wearing. NASCAR has driving, Paranormal has werewolves, Spice has gratuitous sex and Suspense has suspense. Bewildered Heart has chosen to gloss over the inevitable combination of love and violence ever since the unusual punishment meted out by The Domino Effect, but Romance Suspense is big business, and a handful of the biggest names of the genre have joined forces for Dangerous Attraction, a box-set of novels containing everything from Christmas to terrorists to courageous pinnipeds working on battleships. Fans are greeted to all the traditions Romance is known for. The covers are adorned with models in states of undress, the titles are embarrassing and the synopses sound like parodies of what they actually are.

Who could resist Legal Ease by Lori Ryan, for those who enjoy their lawyer procedurals with a degree of comfort, or Fallen SEAL Legacy, a name not immediately indicative of romance? Three Days in Seattle appears to be cashing-in on Fifty Shades through geography, while Catching the Bad Guy is probably better than no title at all. If it is story-lines a reader is after then the Suspense subgenre has got them. Seeking more ambitious plots than a couple perfect for one another slowly realising they are perfect for one another, Suspense action-packs Romance's traditionally flimsy narratives with chases, fighting and military training. Look no further than Toni Anderson's The Killing Game, 'Forced to choose between his country and his heart, British SAS Soldier Ty Dempsey risks it all to save a wildlife biologist caught in the cross hairs of a ruthless killer.' Besides the angry growth of a murderer's follicles there seems little standing in the way of our prospective lovebirds here. Will Ty find a way to keep both his nationality and vital internal organs? Why are wildlife biologists so irresistible to enamoured suitors and the homicidally deranged?

Other novels take a similar approach, as masculine heroes bravely save attractive women from things attractive women should not be involved with. As further proof, how about Ignited by Kaylea Cross? 'Can sexy ex-SEAL Hunter Phillips keep Khalia safe from the terrorists who took her father's life?' Probably. After all, terrorists rarely succeed in romance novels, unless their objective is married life in the suburbs. For a twist on what has already become convention after only two examples there is Deathscape, which may sound like science-fiction, but instead is described thus, 'Detective Jack Sullivan will do anything to put Ashley in prison for her crimes… even if he's falling in love with her.' Even a Bewildered Heart-like knowledge of the genre will struggle to name many novels that conclude with the heroine sent to jail, but perhaps author Dana Marton has contrived a means to avoid a sequel made up of conjugal visits. Still, at least Deathscape includes a potentially burdensome obstacle for the characters to overcome, even if the resolution will likely involve an explanation that the synopsis was misleading.

The popularity of this action-adventure-romance hybrid has not gone unnoticed by Harlequin Mills & Boon either. They have several imprints dealing with danger and mystery, including Love Inspired Suspense and Intrigue. They both sound packed with excitement, mystery and romance, but which is more suitable for an aspiring author's manuscript about a fearless semi-aquatic mammal's amorous pursuit of a left-wing revolutionary on the grounds of Berkeley University during the 1970s? Mills & Boon describes Love Inspired Suspense as, 'Edge-of-the-seat, contemporary tales of intrigue and romance featuring Christian characters facing challenges to their faith… and to their lives.' Gosh, as if combining love and adventure wasn't demanding enough, Love Inspired insists on integrating religion into the drama. As a result of, 'a Christian worldview and wholesome values,' there is little fun to be had in the traditional sense. Gambling, drugs, alcohol, profanity, pre-marital sex and graphic violence are all forbidden for the hero and heroine, although it sounds as if the antagonists are allowed all manner of interesting hobbies. Yet without these typical means of seduction how is romance supposed to blossom?

The leads should be, 'Heroic, courageous, relatable characters faced with dangerous situations who'll triumph and find love.' Everyone can relate to heroism and courage, especially when embellished by a strong moral code inherited from Bible lessons, but who is this subgenre-specific hero? 'A man bound by loyalty and love. He is a fierce protector.' Protector of whom? The object of his affection, the damsel in distress? 'The heroine is no damsel in distress. She is an equal partner.' Oh, sorry. Together they must solve a mystery or battle a presumably secular conspiracy, with plenty of furtive glancing and innocent hand-holding. Despite the emphasis on Christianity authors are instructed to bring a level of subtlety to the dogmatic indoctrination genre writers consistently fail to bring to their story-telling. For those still confused, how about two poorly-chosen examples from the godless world of network television? 'Castle or Bones, for their solid suspense stories and romantic tension between the characters.' What would Bones be if the makers replaced the sex and graphic violence with Jesus? Who knows, but they would probably have the change the title.

Meanwhile, there is Harlequin Intrigue, an imprint that might deserve the vague-to-the-point-of-meaningless description Mills & Boon usually introduce their subgenres with. 'Crime stories tailored to the series romance market packed with a variety of thrilling suspense and whodunit mystery.' Gosh, such an enigmatic bunch of words are enough to arouse anyone's curiousity, but what do Intrigue editors look for in the hundreds of unsolicited submissions they receive every week? Traditionally, when merged Crime and Romance have walked uneasily through a pretty meadow before finding a corpse in a small clump of trees. The difficulty the novelist faces is in finding the balance between the two, placing an emphasis on developing the love story while simultaneously emphasising the crime element that drives the narrative while never forgetting that in Mills & Boon it is the romance that drives the narrative. There are multiple acts of illegality to centre the plot around, such as, 'Kidnappings, stalkings, women in jeopardy and murder.' It appears as if Intrigue offers rich potential for nerve-shedding thrills, visceral set-pieces and hot-blooded passion. What don't these books have? 'No graphic sexual details, explicit language or gratuitous violence.' These may be gripping adventures, but they are first and foremost love stories for the easily-offended.

The obligatorily North American hero and heroine must, 'Share a palpable physical and emotional attraction throughout.' Yet who are these attractive, but respectful, lovers courting delightfully who foil villains through soothing diplomacy? 'The hero is not afraid to break the rules in order to see justice done and to protect the innocent.' He sounds archetypal, while at least differing from the Love Inspired Suspense protagonist, who must play by the rules and leave justice-doing and innocence-protection to the big guy upstairs. Yet what about this innocent? Is this the object of his affection, the damsel-in-distress? 'The Harlequin Intrigue heroine is the no-nonsense, girl next door who may be caught up in dangerous circumstances.' Oh, good. She sounds likeable, yet flawed, and far from the frivolity-loving women about town found in Modern, or the self-determined ladies in blouses found in life. For those still confused, how about three oddly-chosen examples from the romance-hating world of action blockbusters? '24 for pacing, Justified for composition of the hero and Unknown for complex plot.' What would 24 be if the makers replaced the lone wolf and graphic violence with a loveable couple avoiding physical harm over a more appropriate time period? Who knows, but they would probably have to change the title.

Without studying the intricacies of the subgenre too closely the appeal of these imprints is self-explanatory. The sales numbers of Crime Thrillers make it impossible for publishers to resist the opportunity of crossing-over. The formula lends itself to romance, as two characters investigate and solve while their relationship intensifies organically between the lines. Certain examples have been reviewed here previously. MacKenzie's Promise struggled to integrate the love story with the kidnapping in a satisfying manner. Accidental Princess tacked on antagonistic threat as an amateurish afterthought. The Truth about the Tycoon seemed reluctant to follow through on its numerous subplots and The Domino Effect shouldn't really be considered a novel. Still, none of these titles belong to Intrigue or Love Inspired Suspense, yet their disastrous failings at inter-lacing their criminal element with their ultimate romantic objective are indicative of the problems awaiting an author aspiring to write for these imprints. Romance regularly struggles to credibly portray a couple falling in love even when they are married and one is pregnant with the others baby. How much more of a challenge would it be to work in his former life as a marine animal, a worldwide conspiracy, terrorism, pious devotion to the Lord and an admittedly slightly contrived helicopter chase while still maintaining a focus on his arrogance and her unresolved father issues?

“Can she really be falling in love with a man she doesn’t even know?”

2013-11-27T18:24:00.000+00:00

For as long as romance fiction and Feminism have existed there has been a slightly unnecessary debate over whether the two are mutually exclusive. In previous times each side has been content to ignore the other, but this has proven unhelpful. Now there are weblogs such as Romance Novels for Feminists reclaiming the genre as worthy of scholarly examination. Outside the comforting bosom of Harlequin Mills & Boon there are feminist writers, readers and critics, but are they battling uphill and hopelessly to have romance taken seriously by the larger critical community? In regards to this, sociologist Elaine Wethington brought up the notion of Gentrification, and whether romance will ever be held in similar esteem to other genres, reviewed in reputable newspapers and discussed by academics on late night panel shows. Will romance, she wondered, ever be considered art? There are four sticking points that Wethington has worked to refute, but fortunately for her she has enjoyed a broader spectrum of reading material than Harlequin supplies. When concentrating solely on Mills & Boon those Bewildered Hearts struggling for recognition as cultural theorists are faced with obstacles so insurmountable if romantic hero and heroine were faced with such differences they would break up immediately and the novel would be over by chapter two. In order to quietly abandon this strained analogy let us study the four issues that are prevent the publisher from a high-brow world of intellectualism and espresso-drinking.

'Point 1: Romances are all the same' - This accusation is difficult to verify one way or any of the other ways. From the pro-romance standpoint it is obvious that their novels are not all the same. They have different titles, covers and authors. For example, The Sheikh's Forbidden Virgin is by Kate Hewitt, whereas Forbidden: The Sheikh's Virgin is by Trish Morey, yet a company releasing up to twenty books a month for close to one hundred years could surely be forgiven for occasional repetition. The specifics of the genre demonstrate its consistency and appeal. Now Mills & Boon has found its successful formula they would be foolish to add variety solely to appease dissenters. Nevertheless, even within the cosy confines of the publishing juggernaut there are numerous deviations from the norm. Sheikhs, after all, are not surgeons, unless they are sheikh surgeons, while even the most cursory research will show an inherent difference between the NASCAR and Medical™ subgenres, unless there is a crash and the charismatic, yet scarred, driver must be nursed back to health by a sensitive, yet beautiful, doctor with problems of her own. If romances are defined by their invariables, the same criticism could be levelled at more respectable genres such as crime novels, where a troubled detective solves a murder, or family sagas, where an elderly couple take a river cruise.

The constraints of the genre inform, 'Sticking Point 2. Romances are produced by publishers who demand conformity to a set formula, not by authors exercising full creativity' - Without complete freedom of the artist does their art deserve analysis? This attitude might appear snobbish, but it is instead contemptuous of mass production inhibiting personal expression. Food critics rarely write about microwave dinners from their local supermarkets and flatpack furniture does not feature in fine housekeeping magazines. Committee-made Hollywood blockbusters are not regarded in the same way as auteur-directed independents. Still, does Mills & Boon insist upon a rigid formula and frown upon experimentation? Do the restrictions of story and structure really impinge upon an author's creativity to the extent that they are merely inputting words into a company program, mindless drones churning out a standardized product? This is a disservice to romance authors, who retain a degree of dignity through the delusion of imagination as well as a disservice to the publisher, who constantly wish to remind everyone that there is no set formula. There are, however, rules it would be foolhardy to disobey, yet these guidelines have helped to create the familiarity that defines the brand. Furthermore, authors are offered freedoms to invent their own worlds, write in their own voice, name characters whatever they please, locate their stories wherever they choose and have their exotic billionaires hail from any corner of Earth; Greek, Brazilian, Spanish, Italian, it doesn't matter, just as long as they're Caucasian.

'Point 3: Romances promote a conservative message about male-female relationships' - Does the output of Mills & Boon conform to stereotypical displays of propaganda, persuading the public that married child-bearing is the apex of happiness? There can be little argument that the novels adhere to traditional views in this way. Although there are numerous different paths to matrimony, including, but probably not limited to, blackmail, surprise pregnancy, eyelashes, mistaken identity, inopportune fainting and revenge, the only acceptable reason for any action is in the ultimate pursuit of a wedding. Yet romance novels wish to be romantic. Without romance they would simply be novels and novels are not nearly as popular as romance novels. Either the market generated the aspiration or the aspiration formed the story-telling structure. Going by the historical high points of the literary genre an expert can ascertain that Mills & Boon is not entirely responsible for propagating the belief that love and marriage go together like a wheeled vehicle drawn by horse and the aforementioned animal responsible for its momentum. The romance genre of today, with its colour-coordinated covers, suggestive titles and lazy clichés, has tapped into basic human desires for financial purposes. The books push the pursuit of romantic love onto readers who are either married with children or on their way to marriage and children. By glorifying a life choice already prioritised Mills & Boon fortifies its audience's value system, offering a fanciful remedy for the complexities of living.

For a supposedly purposefully apolitical publisher a commitment to promoting traditional lifestyles might seem incongruous, yet romance cannot be exempt from cerebral appraisal due to perceived political leanings. Still, these are genuine reasons to worry, as Wethington notes. 'Romance novels encourage women toward views that reinforce gender inequality... and readers are subconsciously attracted to a latent message that subverts feminism.' Ignorance is not a meaningful defence, and Mills & Boon have encountered criticism such as this on many previous occasions, but they remain determined to do little about it. How high or low the esteem in which the company is held might be irrelevant to profits, but the reputations of themselves and their loyal customers are significant. As Wethingon concludes, '(Critics) equate opposition to academic feminism and enjoyment of sex scenes as indicative of a lack of education. Hence, they find it difficult to accept that even the best romance novels can rise to the level of acceptable popular art.' Therefore, intelligence is wasted on reading romance, and even more so on in-depth analysis. This is quite a knock to Bewildered Heart's confidence and we still have a fourth point to discuss. How else can critics insult romance fans, by subtly insinuating they are all perverts?

'Point 4: Romances are borderline pornography' - No matter how badly romance feels it has been treated by a dismissive cultural elite, it can take solace in having greater artistic value than whatever the cultural elite deem pornography to be. The thinking is understandable. Sex without quality is pornographic and romance novels are without artistic merit, for the Sticking Points previously outlined. Yet because it is unlikely anyone reads Mills & Boon solely for titillation the books can only be described as borderline pornography, due to the fact that they contain levels of sexual content ranging from explicit to light petting. In this case, the borderline the critics have noted separates what is pornographic and what is non-pornographic, with Mills & Boon caught without definition between the two. Thus millions of novels wait to be claimed, read and critiqued, either by erotica scholars or the term someone should invent for people who study and judge the heavier stuff. Why does Harlequin feel that euphemisms are a fundamental element of the genre? Is their target readership uneducated and liable to enjoy such things? Sales of Fifty Shades speak volumes and while sex is emblematic of the power struggle that shaped the story much of the word count spent describing exquisite thrusting was narratively redundant. Yet despite their commercial displays of gratuity, romance writers take a careful approach to carnal relations, using sex scenes to further plot and deepen intimacy. Fearmongers have claimed only 11.5% of Harlequin Romances feature contraception, but this is a misleading statistic, failing to acknowledge that many novels do not feature sex, culminate in surprise pregnancy or belong to the accuracy-obsessive Historical imprint, except in the case of The Carpenter's Virgin Bride, which features all three.

By interpreting the assumed prejudices of the non-existent what can an internet blogger make of the continued isolation of romance fiction, left in the cold to await the unlikely but inevitable arrival of a tycoon carrying a coat? The spirit among readers is positive and progressive, believing romance belongs to feminists and public perception will improve with time, although the cross-over successes have not recently shown the genre in a flattering light. For all that has changed, with hero and heroine meeting on equal footing, him learning from her, she enjoying a career as a professional chef, wedding organiser or secretary, there remains demand for Cinderella fantasies, demure virgins and leading men who take control or, failing that, at least offer money. Are these kinds of romances and feminism mutually exclusive? It might appear so, but the market is enormous and varied enough for this schism to exist. Does the embrace of equality spell the end for captive brides, blackmailed mistresses, convenient wives and less-than-professional housekeepers? So much of the genre has dated poorly and is viewed now with a mixture of embarrassment and shame. When the books being produced today are met with a similar reaction it is difficult to imagine the opinions of a future, which will either be more enlightened or more narrow-minded, and that will depend, albeit only a little, on Harlequin's next move.

"That man was no more a devout Catholic than the dog that begged for scraps at the kitchen door"

2013-10-28T19:03:00.000+00:00

During the down time between reading novels and drinking Bewildered Heart scours the headlines for interviews, competitions, medical research and university papers as inspiration and something to write about. In the ever-expanding mass of nothingness later renamed the World Wide Web a day rarely goes by without a baseless accusation, some outrageous opinion or a tired retread of conventional wisdom to tide us over until this weblog can add to the ever-expanding mass of nothingness you, dear reader, are wasting time on at this very moment. Recently, however, keyword searches and Google alerts have not offered much in the way of excitement. However, a recurring theme has developed and, when faced with few alternatives, a recurring theme has to be considered enough. Diana, a biopic of the Princess of Wales, was released and critics everywhere decided that no review could be complete without a reference to Mills & Boon, inundating the Bewildered Heart inbox with antipathy and photographs of Naomi Watts smiling. The storyline of the movie appears to have all the elements considered vital for a conventional romance. There is a beautiful princess, a dashing surgeon and plenty of conflict to threaten their coupling. Yet the critical savaging is not aimed at the scenario, it is based on a supposedly true story, after all, but rather the narrative treatment.

Diana has been reviewed variously as, 'a Mills and Boon with worse dialogue, a doctor and princess book from the Mills & Boon stable, a Mills & Boon-esque misfire, let down by the Mills & Boon-level script, with syrupy sentiment Mills & Boon might reject for being too cloying, and a heroine with a weakness for speaking in Mills & Boon, while events plod a Mills-and-Boon, low-brow and soapy path, playing out like a Mills & Boon romance, with history receiving a full Mills & Boon makeover.' So much for minimising word repetition. Despite this overwhelming barrage The Guardian newspaper disagreed. 'The movie isn't so much Mills & Boon as a horrendous Fifty Shades of Grey with the S&M sex taken out,' they countered, neglecting to notice that Fifty Shades without the S&M sex is Mills & Boon. What can it mean for a brand name to become synonymous with artistic atrocity? Such a calamity befalls Harlequin every so often, as a novel, film, song or heartfelt declaration is criticised for displaying the qualities indicative of the publisher. Is this fair to the likes of Diana and Mills & Boon, their admirers and their detractors? Is this lazy journalism, offering soundbites without evidence or context? Is the use of Mills & Boon in place of an adjective harmful to any hope Harlequin may have of redeeming its reputation?

For a fan of the numerously aforementioned company the backlash aimed at Diana does not make for pretty reading. Fortunately, fans of the numerously aforementioned company are not accustomed to pretty reading. Nevertheless, what can be made of these critiques, besides the obvious insinuation that Diana might be a film to avoid? The use of Mills & Boon as a signifier suggests that the related work is traditionally romantic, predictable and sentimental. The connotations, however, are entirely negative. Even without having read anything from the Harlequin canon any observer will have had their expectations dampened. Devourers of Mills & Boon might be reluctant to flock to a screening of Diana, even though it sounds like an adaptation of their ideal novel. Still, they should bear in mind from real life that their prerequisite happy ending will probably not be forthcoming. More fool the critics, as romance is the most successful genre in literature, boding well for box-office receipts. Still, the implication is unequivocal. Diana is a failure of a film, so bad it is the cinematic equivalent of Mills & Boon. Given sales, however, shouldn't Mills & Boon-esque by an aspiration instead of a depth only the truly inept can plumb? To say something is like Mills & Boon calls for a singular, and agreed upon, definition, but critics have used the term as a shorthand for mushy sentiment, insipid dialogue and indulgent lighting. There is good romantic fiction and then there is Mills & Boon.

A recent interview with Abby Green in the Irish Independent attempts to challenge some of the clichés the public associates with the publisher. Her novels, belonging to the Modern imprint, deal in dark subject matter including rape, sex trafficking, bi-polar disorders and false accusations of rape. Titles such as In Christofide's Keeping and Forgiven But Not Forgotten? are far removed from the likes of The Queen's Nine Month Scandal, Mistress to the Merciless Millionaire, The Brazilian's Blackmail Bargain and The Mediterranean Billionaire’s Blackmail Bargain, which are, admittedly, also by Abby Green. Still, there is more to Mills & Boon than extortion so affordable you would be a fool to pass it up. Anything goes, according to the author, albeit within reason. It is not as if anything goes. 'Nothing is forbidden, but you have to be aware of what interests the readers,' she explains. There is a threshold of what an audience will tolerate, although this uncrossable moral line Green speaks of seems to have been personally marked and based on rationality rather than research. Thus, gay romances are excluded, at least until homosexuals are in the majority, while paedophiles are unsuitable for the role of hero due to their lack of attraction towards the archetypal heroine. Interviewer Mary Kenny offers a handful of sentences in defence of Green's backers. Novels are grittier and more sexually explicit than they used to be, while heroines are typically portrayed as independently-minded young women with careers and contentment in singledom. Nevertheless, endings remain conservative and, 'Despite the advance of equality heroes still tend to be dominant Alpha-males and heroines feminine.'

If Green is right to believe her stories embrace female empowerment this has not been translated into a coherent market strategy. Ruthlessly Bedded, Forcibly Wedded will do little to improve the image of the business, with its tawdry tale of revenge, unexpected pregnancy and innocent heroine manipulated in an exotic location. Taboo-busting adult themes will mean nothing unless they are handled with maturity and insight. Otherwise, concepts such as sexual abuse and mental illness will feel tactlessly included for some unwarranted edge. As Green and Kenny both note, Harlequin is acutely aware of its market and is driven by reader demand. Fairy-tales, brooding masculinity, glamorous locales and incredible wealth are all sought and delivered as a means of escape from the drudgery of everyday living. Darker subject matter either does not belong or is not wanted. It would appear that the unfavourable inferences of the name Mills & Boon have been well-earned and the company show no signs of changing. However, if there are romantic fiction lovers who have wearied of fantasy, virginal heroines and happy endings, but still seek the amateurish standards of writing they are familiar with, critics everywhere agree that there is a film apparently made especially for them, as long as they exit theatres twenty minutes early. Meanwhile, for those hoping for a disappointing conclusion, as always, Bewildered Heart has you covered.

"If Jane Austen had written a book set in a castle off the coast of France"

2013-10-18T17:39:00.002+01:00

When we last checked in on Princess Sophie Baldwin for the latest gossip we found her tumultuous life had taken a turn for the turbulent. She and teenage daughter Savannah had decamped to a sovereign island nation to assume their rightful places on the throne after decades in North Carolinian exile. While Savannah's exploits will surely be told in several year's time as another St. Michel romance, potentially entitled Accidental Daughter, Sophie's time is now, and not just because several foreigners are either trying to sleep with her, murder her or offer her shiny headwear. No, there is nothing quite like God-given authority over a well-populated dominion, and the love of a handsome man, to give someone their groove back. Sophie had led a weary existence as ludicrously dressed doormat due to Frank's mistreatment, her adoptive parent's betrayal, her real family's choice of either abandonment or death, her daughter's impertinence, Mary's snobbery and Laura dying. Thus, she has truly suffered for her shot at superiority. One might have assumed that ruling a kingdom would see an end to her troubles, but disaster seems to follow Sophie as closely as her security detail.

Once she has landed and partaken in splendour, the machinations are in place to seal her discreditation. Several inappropriate trysts with the evil Vicomte Yves de Vaugirard sully her reputation and reveal to the world's media that she is in fact the daughter of Princess Sylvie and rock legend Nick Morrison. One might have assumed that this would be the end of her troubles, but there is still the problematic matter of a decades long Founteneau Curse to consider, as well as the mutual physical longing that has consumed the thoughts of Sophie and part-time Oliver Martinez impersonator Luc Lejardin, who isn't the most competent bodyguard at the best of times. Sophie invites her shy yet likeable maid, Adéle and her mother, Marie, to the castle for tea and awkwardly translated conversation. Marie previously worked as Sylvie's most loyal and obsessive assistant, and confesses that when the plane crashed Nick and the Princess were headed on their honeymoon, having been married in a small French village. Does this change anything? Not exactly, because Sophie had already been scandalously born and remains illegitimate, but the revelation elicits a minor response from Luc possibly signifying meaning.

With the numerous subplots established and one hundred and eighty pages filled with words, Thompson is able to pen the final chapter. There is much to resolve and neither the time nor the talent to do so satisfactorily. First up, there's the business of Sophie's claim to her title, which can be challenged on the grounds that her parents were unwed. Fortunately, they were married. Did anyone mention Luc's brother, Alex, is a lawyer who has been studiously scanning the Constitution for legal loopholes? No? Well, he is and he was. What about ex-husband, Frank, and his demands to see his daughter more often than the reader does? This afterthought of an inconvenience is dealt with in a single sentence, as nebulous external conflicts should be. Frank is paid off and invited over whenever he wants. As for Luc's concerns about his besmirched family name and lowly commoner status, this is settled simply by pretending no one had brought it up to begin with. Plot points are resolved in one paragraph of good news, better news and best news, and inevitable love-making follows, as Luc and Sophie fuse into one, although the author rather skimps on salacious detail. There is no time for euphemisms for body parts, not when there are crimes to solve and crimes to prevent.

Speaking of which, how is Luc's investigation going? As the population of the island consists of himself, the King and two other people, Luc manages to narrow his list of suspects down to two. Having patiently waited until after his best friend had been murdered, Luc installs informants in the de Vaugirard household where homicidal schemes are hatched with such Gallic arrogance that staff are invited to listen and offer criticism. Oh, you foolish de Vaugirard's, your secretive and successful killing spree has been uncovered by your lack of secrecy. Yet, despite the damning evidence of countless witnesses, Luc and the King still do not have enough evidence to convict the pair, perhaps because the St. Michel police and court system are inept and open to bribes. Therefore a plan is concocted to lure a hired assassin into the open at the New Year's Eve Ball. Despite the danger, the St. Michel New Year's Ball is something of a tradition and the King isn't about to let threats upon his or his granddaughter's life get in the way of a good party. Still, mannequins are to be dressed and stood on a distant balcony to draw the gunfire. Suddenly and without drama two shots ring out, and, obviously fearing the end, Luc throws his massive body on Sophie's. How did the de Vaugirard's know of the decoy trick? That hardly seems important. What does seem important is not lingering on anything narratively influential.

Thompson skips forward a few days to find Luc and Sophie driving up towards St. Ezra, where Princess Sylvie was wed, to find the necessary documentation proving her legitimacy. King Bertrand was saved by his trusty bulletproof vest. The assassin and Daddy de Vaugirard are behind bars, although Son de Vaugirard escaped. Nevertheless, Sophie is plagued by doubts about her future, and wishes to return to North Carolina with Savannah and Luc in tow. Her lover fixes this fleeting crisis with a similar series of clichés that must have worked on Amanda, because Sophie decides to stay where the money, power and happiness is. All is well, but what's that? Yves de Vaugirard? Awaiting them with a loaded gun? How did he know they would be there? That hardly seems important. What does seem important is disarming him with the minimal amount of tension. Luc takes a bullet to the shoulder and Sophie headbutts the villain. The first headbutt in Mills & Boon history? It seems likely in a world where kisses tend to be spectacular. A cursory epilogue wraps things up as merrily as possible. The murderers are jailed, the hero and heroine are engaged, Savannah is probably all right, the King lives, Luc is redeemed from the scandal only he was aware of and any subplots Thompson forgot about can't have been significant. Everybody loves a wedding. The End.

For all its failings as a romance, and the many deficiencies that prohibit it from working as a mystery thriller, Accidental Princess also misfires as a fairytale. Nancy Robards Thompson is unable to create an atmosphere of wonder to make for a traditional story, while an absence of either wit or insight keeps her contemporary twist clear of subversion. By allowing her heroine moments of clarity she calls attention to the incredulity of the plotting. Despite the world outside intruding hungrily on the idealised island neither St. Michel nor North Carolina are convincing. The characters are too poorly-drawn to perceive events in a credible manner and the novel falls flat around a limp heroine and hackneyed obstacles. With little in the way of internal conflict the plot relies on the supposedly frowned-upon device of external threats. The magnitude of the situation relegates romance to a subplot and fails to differentiate between Sophie's courtship and her regal ascension. Accidental Princess takes a haphazard approach to politics, concluding that unelected Plutocracy works for everyone so long as the oligarchs are nice. As events culminate in farcical crime-fighting Sophie's attempt to redistribute the wealth while retaining all the power and luxury are forgotten, although a Christmas toy drive is tacked on for no worthwhile reason. Her work in social services and initial disagreement with de Vaugirard over just how revolting poor people are become trite indications of Sophie's humanity, and are wasted instead of developed into a moral dilemma as she learns about her new home's systematic inequality.

To bulk out proceedings Thompson introduces several attractive characters for the benefit of a franchise. Luc has two gorgeous, charming and wealthy brothers, while Sophie calls her confidante, the beautiful and single Lindsey (Linds to her friends. Hi, Linds!), ostensibly to learn that Laura's death was an accident, and not suicide, thus absolving Sophie of guilt. Linds, Henri and Alex each later enjoyed their own surprise riches, secret babies and designer shoes with Accidental Heiress, Accidental Father and Accidental Cinderella joining Accidental Princess in a series based around a theme of inadvertency. The first of the series also marked Thompson's debut for Harlequin Mills & Boon, although the publishers repackaged the novel for a Special Moments 2-in-1 alongside Stacy Connelly's Once Upon a Wedding, as a tenuously-linked pair of underwhelming modern fairytales. The publisher's patronage of Thompson is difficult to fathom, as Accidental Princess has the lazy plotting, clumsy prose and laboured setpieces of a seasoned professional coasting on legacy. Authors with several titles behind them have struggled to skillfully combine a standard romance with a dramatic b-story, as The Domino Effect and MacKenzie's Promise prove. Therefore we can perhaps forgive Thompson's indiscretion as foolish ambition. Attempting a cross-genre Mills & Boon just sees a writer offer two disappointments where there should have been one, although if we were to count Once Upon a Wedding on top then that would make three disappointments.

"Obviously new or at least not thirty-three years old"

2013-09-30T20:17:00.001+01:00

Bewildered Heart has always maintained the belief that Bewildered Heart is superior to all the other weblogs on this here internet, but until recently we lacked the statistical evidence to prove it. Thankfully those scientific types at Canada's York University have banded together to ponder the significance of people's reading preferences and whether what they read says anything about their personality. The catchy title all psychological studies see as a must have read as, What You Read Matters: The Role of Fiction Genre in Predicting Interpersonal Sensitivity, and appeared recently in the journal Psychology of Aesthetics, Creativity and the Arts, an essential journal for those that way inclined. Unfortunately for those that way inclined a PDF of their findings will set you back a hefty twelve dollars, but the money conscious can find succinct analytical breakdowns at places such as The Atlantic, where Julie Beck has offered an explanation for anyone either cheap or inattentive. While the former might want to stop frittering away their income on romance novels, as it turns out the latter might wish to improve their interpersonal sensitivity by reading romance novels.

According to The Encyclopedia of Human Relationships, 'Interpersonal sensitivity can refer to both how well one reads other people and how appropriately one responds.' Reading involves both verbal, including the pitch and rhythm of the voice, and non-verbal communication, such as facial expressions, postures and gestures. The key question for readers of Harlequin Mills & Boon concerns whether or not a history of enjoying romance fiction will, 'provide a distinctive conceptual framework through which readers construct meaning about the social world.' There are few reasons to read trite tales of true love besides the betterment of the self through emotional learning. Has Katrina Fong, and her team of trusty Canadians, found conclusive proof that reading Fifty Shades of Grey makes you an enlightened and insightful milksop, rather than the lonely pervert all logic suggests you are?

To reach the answers a rational person might have guessed the boffins first gathered together a group of 328 willing participants, 258 of which were women, and asked them to identify authors from a series of twenty-five names. The list consisted of non-fiction and fiction writers, along with other names summoned from the imagination. To simplify matters further, four fiction genres were selected, and they were domestic fiction, romance, sci-fi fantasy and suspense thrillers. Following that a personality test was carried out, in order to uncover any significant characteristics that might suggest there is more to sensitivity than literature consumption. The central part of the methodology involved showing black and white photographs of eyes and asking the contributors to recognise the expression from a multiple choice of mental states. The results were hardly surprising. While fiction readers showed more interpersonal sensitivity than non-fiction readers the romance lovers tested higher than fans of the other genres. Does this mean reading romance novels puts you in touch with your feelings, or do highly emotional people simply prefer romance novels due to the dramatic nature of the stories? Thankfully, those running the experiment have no idea either, while Julie Beck figures that the truth lies somewhere inbetween.

There are a handful of estimations one could gleam from the statistics. For example, is it possible that regardless of reading habits females are more empathetic than males? After all, predominantly it is women who read romance novels. The results of previous studies dictate that romance-reading women are likely to be more interpersonally sensitive than the men who traditionally read sci-fi fantasy and the rollicking adventures of seven foot tall ex-military private detectives who solve crimes through a combination of grunting and violence. Still, this conclusion relies heavily on generalisations and prejudice, and if those were able to create irrefutable evidence there would be no need for science at all. The authors of What You Read Matters do end on an epiphany of sorts. 'It may be that the emotional experiences evoked by romance novels lead to rumination on past relationship experiences… perhaps encouraging readers to puzzle out the complexities of their own past romantic relationships. This thoughtful introspection might then be usefully applied to new social interactions.' While this is possibly correct, meaning and benefit continue to prove elusive. Are these conclusions nebulous enough to render the entire endeavour redundant? This appears to be a more worthwhile question. There appears to be only the most flimsy reasoning behind the notion that following words on a page might assist in the distinguishing of emotional states from pictures of eyes.

The full report may offer more indepth insights, but the sensible supposition is that readers tending towards compassion and human interest will seek out romances for their emotional conflicts and happy resolutions. Crucially for Bewildered Hearts though, the study failed to differentiate between the various subgenres of romance fiction, and the varying degree in quality that sees romance as a genre ranges from classic Jane Austen to the likes of Bedded at the Billionaire's Convenience or Taken by the Sheikh. For genuine interest in relationships there is a more pertinent and compelling source of entertainment than Mills & Boon where characters are familiar archetypes, the stories are predictable and the writing is lifeless and shallow. You would hope that the truly empathetic would tire of such formulaic nonsense all too quickly. Meanwhile, for someone desiring to improve upon their interpersonal sensitivity there are entertainment sources with greater gravitas and emotional range than Mills & Boon, and so they, like the rest of us, would be wasting their time treating what Harlequin provides as educational material. Nevertheless, no matter how the findings of York University are analysed What You Read Matters is another positive argument for romance, which in turn is another positive argument for Bewildered Heart being superior to every other blog on this here internet.

"An action that could've been interpreted as unintentional... or not"

2013-09-23T18:06:00.001+01:00

Those weblog devotees who can remember starting Accidental Princess will certainly want to forget reading it. We left Sophie Baldwin in the crux of a life-changing dilemma, putting aside all reason to decide on either changing her life or keep it chugging along aimlessly. There was little to recommend the latter, only her teenage daughter's inevitable pregnancy would someday break the tedium of working and occasionally living. There was, however, something about the alternative offer of taking on the royal duties of a small Mediterranean island. All the umming and ahhing in the world proved unable to make Sophie decisive and therefore within a few pages of chapter four her mind had been made up for her, through a combination of important men and God, perhaps the most important man of all. Initially Nancy Robards Thompson seemed to suggest Sophie's choice was something of an agonising philosophical conundrum, but within moments of intriguing her readers with three chapters of thinking and back-story she resolved to wrap things up as abruptly as possible. After all, who would say no to becoming an European princess and why would those who would say no be reading a Mills & Boon Special Moments Romance entitled Accidental Princess?

Well, due to her career in the social services Sophie cannot simply abandon North Carolina to live on a fictional island. She has obligations to her clients, such as fraught single mother Laura Hastings, and possibly others with names of their own. Somewhat fortunately for everyone involved Laura kills herself, landing her four young children in something of a quagmire, but completely freeing up Sophie's Tuesday afternoon. Still, there is more to life on the east coast than work. What about her spawn and those two strangers who masqueraded for decades as her parents? Savannah cannot decamp to another country, not with school, her father and a first boyfriend to contend with. Somewhat fortunately Sophie's ex-husband is a jerk, Tick reconciles with a former flame and the school denies ever having a student named after a city, completely freeing up Savannah's life. Meanwhile, parenthood is tricky, and made especially tough with no natural bond between adult and child. When considered on these terms, all the betrayal and dishonesty in the world cannot overshadow the selfless act of devotion Rose and John showed by feeding and misleading Sophie across those thirty-odd years. Thus, with details such as organising emigration glossed over, Princess Sophie and Princess Savannah jet off to someplace even the most cursorary research would have told them only exists in the imagination of a geographically-confused author.

Never mind glaring plot flaws though, because regality is tremendous. Sophie and Savannah are indulged, waited upon and given expensive gifts that aren't even real yet, including a super-cool cellular phone that makes the iPhone look like a cinder block with numbers drawn on. Flashy gadgets and luxurious bedding are used primarily to disguise the lack of emotional development in the characters. Luxury appears to appease the mother and daughter, as they recover from the shock of their overnight success. Still, it is not all pillows made of puppies and castles filled with candy, because the thought does occur to Sophie that her biological mother perished as a teenager, her biological father was a rock and roll legend and her adoptive parents are nothing more than fawning imposters who raised her in deceitful poverty. Still, nothing really matters in the face of Luc's haughty handsomeness, which is used primarily to disguise the lack of credibility in Sophie's personality. The novel supposes that the mutual attraction that develops between hero and heroine overcomes the shakiness of the narrative. Nevertheless, this manages to be more convincing than the single stumbling block standing in the way of their union, the class system. Luc is acutely aware that his disgraced family name leaves him in no position to woo a princess without it appearing as ungentlemanly social climbing. Sophie, meanwhile, is from the far more enlightened United States, and she won't let tradition tell her who she can and can't sleep with.

To let the proverbial gremlin loose in the proverbial system, Robards Thompson remembers to introduce the subplot involving someone murdering the king's family in a bid to claim the throne. Who could it be? Luc, the comically inept head of security? The King? Sophie? Savannah? What about the conceited St. Michelian who hates everyone and is hungry for power? Possibly that last one, but whoever knows isn't telling, and so the fairytale continues with several elements that clearly don't belong in a fairytale. Snooty, middle-aged Vicomte Yves De Vaugirard and his less significant father, Comte Pascal De Vaugirard, are dismayed to learn of a secret love child and an unconstitutional attempt to make her queen. Before turning to his trusted method of murder-to-look-like-accident the elitist villain and the evil mouse that lives in his pocket make a much more innocent play at discrediting Sophie, through a combination of kissing and photography. The public relations nightmare that enfolds only drives Sophie into the grateful arms of Luc Lejardin, who had until then been keeping his distance, unable as he is to control his passionate manhood around royal women. With that Chapter eleven ends with the promise of lip-locking, death-defying and subplot-forgetting.

Casual misogyny, trite political moralising and offensive stereotyping briefly enliven proceedings, but besides that Accidental Princess is largely a disappointment and whatever the opposite of entertainment is. Secrets Uncovered would argue that while situations need not be believable for romantic fantasy the reactions of the characters must be credible to keep the scenario tethered to reality. Nancy Robards Thompson's downfall comes from a protagonist too swept up in wonderment to make the necessary decisions to bring about dramatic resolution. She spends her time asking why her, and the majority of her thoughts tend towards Luc, either thanking the heavens he is beside her or asking the heavens where he has got to. This is necessary, of course, given the genre's demands for a love story, but there seems to be greater need for the plotting and fleshing out of the troubled daughter, decades long murdering and the throne ascension, the things the novel has included as background colour. While optimistic hopes that these strands can be brought together for a satisfying finale border on the delusional, readers have the right to expect that Thompson would not have included a mass of detail without the intention of later remembering what it was.

The politics of St. Michel are discreetly hidden behind a wall of confused understandings of how countries exist. The island appears to be an autocracy, running on a form of an unelected elitism, which seems to have suited everyone for centuries. The people are peons to the royal family and while nearly everyone is somehow financially resplendent Sophie does hear of small pockets of poverty from the pampered lips of an unelected elitist. Needing a mission to keep from appearing the ineffectual figurehead she is supposed to be, Sophie discovers the socialist principles all Americans are taught and reveals her nobility by learning her servants names and ordering them not to work on Thanksgiving. What's Thanksgiving, they ask? You're welcome, she smiles, not as their boss but as their equal. While this does call to mind her sterling social work in North Carolina the narrative has no interest in righting societal wrongs, and includes this fleeting attempt to redistribute wealth as a means to reiterate Sophie's kindness. This is hardly helpful to an already crowded plot, but with everything so easily solvable Robards Thompson should be able to fix Savannah, bring a killer to justice, wed Sophie to Luc, give the serfs a decent wage and bring democracy to St. Michel, thus abolishing the Monarchy and allowing Sophie the quiet married life she always wanted. As always, Bewildered Heart reads on, endeavouring against our better judgement to find out what we already know.