#even at the time i knew that homophobia is a strictly human concept and she's probably kinda beyond that

[not-the-living-ghost]

giggling remembering the time i half-jokingly headcanoned the night nurse as homophobic because of the way she interrupted edwin mid confession

[tessetc]

Consent and Virginity in Romance Novels

This is kind of a combination essay and review, but as I will be discussing consent issues, I suggest if this topic is an issue for you, you may want to pass on this post as well as the books I am discussing. 

This is extremely long so I am going to stick it under a cut, but there are reviews at the bottom of it for the books above and a few more as well. 

I was doing a lot of thinking lately about the role that consent and virginity plays and has historically played in the genre of romance, and how our relationship to those concepts has changed over the last forty years.

I have recently read all three of the books highlighted above, and along with a few others I will mention, I want to discuss the place they hold in romance history, and how they hold up as examples.

The first book above is The Wolf and the Dove, (1974) by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss. Woodiwiss is famous as the mother of the modern romance novel, and the inventor of the “bodice ripper”. Prior to the publication of The Flame and the Flower (1972) (F&F) romances were extremely chaste, perhaps culminating in a sweet kiss at the end, at most. When F&F was published, it featured actual sex. Unfortunately, this occurred when the male lead raped the female lead.

I recently grabbed that book at a used bookstore. I haven’t read it yet, so I can’t comment in any great detail, but I am still aware of the issues with it. I remember reading it once a very long time ago, and being a bit bored by it, but otherwise I can’t say.

However, The Wolf and the Dove (W&D) is either the first or second romance I ever read, the other being The Pirate and the Pagan (1990) (P&P) by Virginia Henley. I really, really liked both books when I was younger, and I recently reread them both.

For the most part, P&P contains consensual sex, apart from one incident in the middle of the book. Unfortunately, this was not handled well, and when I recently reread this book as a more mature reader, it kind of ruined it for me. It’s acknowledged as a rape within the book, but it does not seem to have any real effect on their relationship.

In W&D, on the other hand, the male lead, Wulfgar, repeatedly “seduces” the heroine, Aislinn, by catching her and basically mauling her until “passion takes over” and she submits. This sounds very blunt. However, the book, set in Medieval England, begins with a sacking of her castle by the villain, who then basically drags her by her hair to be ravished. In contrast, Wulfgar waits several weeks before he gives in to temptation and has his way with her, and by then, her attraction is apparent and they have a relationship and are on their way to developing respect. Her opposition to his advances is not due to not wanting to be with him, but rather due to her objection to their unmarried state.

The scenes are very, very vague and undetailed. The book was published in 1974.

So why was the sex like this in these books? Most likely, the answer lies in purity culture. Women, the primary audience for romance, were meant to be chaste and nonsexual. Which means even having sex in books was revolutionary. Remember, this is roughly the time that birth control and abortion were becoming widely acceptable. Women were working in public and a rating system on movies meant that erotic and adult themes could be shown in theatre, rather than censored completely.

This was a revolutionary time for media and women’s rights, and it’s reflected in this genre as well. But culture doesn’t change overnight, and guilt and shame were still very thick on sexuality.

I’m not the first person to note that in order for a woman to “be allowed to enjoy erotica” it must be that the fictional female is overwhelmed or coerced. It sounds really awful. It IS really awful. But you have to think of the mindset. A sexually confident heroine is not only unrelatable to a repressed female reader, but it would also make her distinctly uncomfortable. There was a lot of socialization to be a certain way, and having a heroine who strolls up to the hero and cheerfully fucks him would have been really offputting and uncomfortable for the reader. They were simply not ready for it in the 70s, and a more progressive book would have gone nowhere.

***

The books from the 70’s and 80’s were available to me as a teen and young adult in the 90s and early 2000’s, but the concept of rape as necessary to the plot was still very prominent in books published at that time. However, it was becoming more of an issue, as more authors were taking note of it. I believe it was in a book called Remembrance, (1997) by Jude Devereaux, where the female lead was a romance author who refused to allow her heroes to rape the heroine, and the protag’s publisher took issue with it as they felt the readers would not believe he was virile enough.

So clearly, authors were conscious of this as a troubling issue by this point. You can see this as well in the works of Johanna Lindsay. She has been writing bestselling romance for decades. Her early books nearly all featured ravishment of the heroine by the hero; her novels are the very definition of bodice ripper, featuring burly vikings and knights and captured brides.

But when you look at her body of work as a whole, you see a gradual change over time. By the time Man of my Dreams came out, in 1992, the blatant rape was gone, and many of her books featured very innocent, virginal heroines.

Very innocent.

In Man of my Dreams, the heroine, Megan, goes to the hero, Devlin, to learn how to kiss. He takes it a bit far and ends up nailing her in the hay.

She is pretty much down with it the whole time. She doesn’t attempt to stop him, so it’s not rape, right? Has the author dodged the bullet?

No. No, I don’t think so. Instead of rape, heroines who know what’s going on but object as in the older books, this is much more subtle, and in a lot of ways, more disturbing. Devlin ABSOLUTELY knows what he’s doing. Megan ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT. She has no idea she’s losing her virginity until it’s too late. Devlin lies to her and says it’s “part of kissing” but he is knowingly taking advantage of her inexperience. So it seems clear to me that the author was already aware of the consent issues in the genre, but attempted to skirt it by framing it as a seduction rather than a ravishment.

As a reader in the 90s and a young woman, I didn’t see this problem. I just thought it was hot. Purity culture was still very much a part of my psychological makeup, as well as that of other readers.

When I say above that a sexually confident heroine made readers uncomfortable, I speak from my own past perspective. A forward or experienced heroine made for uncomfortable reading when it occurred. It’s hard to pinpoint how, exactly, but while I wanted to read about sex, I couldn’t identify with someone who knew what they wanted and went after it, sexually speaking.

Was I repressed? I didn’t think so. After all, I was reading all these smutty books, right?

Wrong. Looking back, I was very much repressed. Not only was there shame in thinking about sex and reading about it, but even having sex before marriage was very shameful to me.

TMI here but the first time I ever even masturbated, I was 25. Despite the smut. 25.

So yes, in order to even be able to wrap my head around the idea of liking sex, it had to be very much noncon or seductive.

***

Times change, technology changes, and people change.

I spent my intervening years on the internet, tried selling sex toys at home parties (thereby learning to talk about it), and have plowed through the majority of my 30s, learning along the way how to give zero fucks what people think of me.

Society - and culture - have matured along with me. A big factor in the change, in my opinion, is the ability we have as humans to share ideas easily around the world. Subtle issues with racism, homophobia, and misogyny that were unnoticed by me and others in the 90s are more clear now as we have the ability to step out of our small, local social groups and gain understanding from people of all walks of life.

This is an ongoing process, of course, and we are not all as enlightened as we think we are or want to be, but it is a process, and I definitely see the effects as filtered through the lens of a romance reader.

Romance is about relationships, and so is culture, and our culture is reflected thusly.

In the past couple of decades, romance has undergone a significant overhaul. Not only within the strictly defined confines of the genre, but also in some influential books that have come out since. Particularly the Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon, the first of which was published in the 1991 and which is still ongoing.

Outlander is, strictly speaking, not romance. But it is heavily influenced by, and influential on the genre. A lot of romance tropes are taken and flipped. Most particularly the experienced female and virginal male leads, very, very explicit sex, (much more so than the much tamer books I have already discussed), and the rape which doesn’t occur between the leads, but which is inflicted on Jamie rather than Claire, by the villain. Clearly, the author was examining these issues in a fresh way.

As a reader, the enjoyment of the novel no longer hinged on the “taking” of the female. The fact that it was well received indicates that there was quite a cultural shift, as she was very forward. Also, the rape was not titillating or in any way exciting. Rather it was portrayed as a tragedy and a crime, and affects Jamie for decades throughout the following books. He suffers poorly-treated PTSD from the event that he struggles with in the background of several more books.

But the problem isn’t entirely gone from society. Outlander gets away with a lot because it isn’t, strictly speaking, a romance.

What is a romance, however, is the extremely popular and influential Fifty Shades series, the first of which came out in 2011.

Now in full disclosure, I only skimmed these, and it was before the movies came out. But it’s clear that the need we have as women to be overpowered sexually is still there. But it’s undergone yet another shift.

Setting aside the issues with the accuracy of BDSM, at its core, this series once again has a virginal female overtaken by an experienced male. The author has clearly tried to bury the consent thing once and for all by having the characters spell out consent on paper. But the need for the male to overpower the female has shifted to kink rather than rape or coercion.

There are a thousand essays on whether or not this was consensual, stalking, abuse, or whatever. I can’t really weigh in on that. But clearly the fact that it could be interpreted that way indicates there are still issues within the genre.

Most of the books I have read recently, mostly published within the last 2-3 years, feature clear consent and confident females. In a lot of ways, we seem to have gotten over this hump. But none of these books have had as wide an audience as 50 Shades. So it seems the need for a coerced female has clearly not gone away entirely.

Looking at my own relationship with consent in romance, I know I am less comfortable and more aware of non-con in books, and more able to point it out when it’s subtle than I was before. My relationship with virginity has changed as well. I am no longer particularly comfortable with an ignorant female.

I do, however, still like to see a strong, aggressive male overpowering a female. Maybe not to the extent in 50 Shades, but I certainly still like to see roughness, size differences, women being picked up and carried (although while laughing rather than screaming) and men who have an economic advantage over the woman.

So how much of this is kink and how much of it is lingering aftereffects of purity culture?

As much as I wish it was the former, I have to come to the conclusion that it’s probably the latter.

It makes me angry that I feel unfeminist when I want to read and write about submissive females and billionaire bad boys. That I still sometimes like to see less experienced females with playboy males. I WANT it to be kink, but looking at my own personal growth trajectory in conjunction with the romance genre, I can only conclude that it really is aftereffects of socialization and that in ten more years, I will shudder at the things I find appealing now.

We all grow, and change, and the genre does as well. Sometimes we need to step back and objectively analyze ourselves and our environment in order to facilitate this growth.

So where does this leave the final book pictured, Sinner? (2017)

Well, in this, purity culture, particularly in the evangelical subculture, is front and centre, and clearly highlighted as a factor in the heroine’s virginity.

But whereas in the past, her virginity = ignorance, in this case, she is much more aware of what is going on, and is more or less the aggressor, actively deciding that her virginity is a burden that allows men to control her, that is valued more highly than her actual self. So after developing a relationship with the male lead, she actively sets out to remove it.

The male lead, while still the stereotypical manslut, is totally mindful, to his own disgust, of how “caveman” he feels about taking her virginity, and goes to great lengths to confirm her consent, not only on that occasion, but on subsequent occasions as well.

The book becomes much less about virginity as a kink, and more about a woman’s right to make the decision for herself about when, and importantly, with whom to have sex.

Are all issues erased now, then?

Probably not. As I said, change is ongoing, and there are probably a ton of issues that I’m simply not seeing yet. But I find myself in a place where I can openly read smut, write smut, and write about reading smut, and I can find books where women are able to be free and open with their sexuality, where they take agency and control, and importantly, I ENJOY it.

I wouldn’t have enjoyed it in my younger days, and I suspect this rather run of the mill book would have probably not gone over as well with readers as a group twenty, let alone forty years ago.

***

So since I want to review these a bit too, and I was kind of meaning to anyway, here is a quickie review of all the books mentioned after the giant wall of analysis I just forced on you.

Books Mentioned:

The Flame and the Flower by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

Haven’t read it yet, but will soon. Not expecting good things, but it was a turning point, so I’m gonna take the bullet for you, dear reader.

The Wolf and the Dove by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

I am aware of the noncon, and can look at it objectively, and so it doesn’t bother me. I don’t recommend this book if it’s an issue for you. However, if you can ignore it, this is actually a really engaging story. Sex doesn’t actually play a huge part in it, and it’s got some notable historical inaccuracies. But Wulfgar is a likeable hero. Aislinn is like a prototype for Outlander’s Claire, and I just love, love, love the ending. I still fucking love this book, and the troublesome aspects really don’t detract from it for me.

8/10

The Pirate and the Pagan by Virginia Henley

This book and this author has been hugely influential on my own writing. Much more smutty than Lindsay and Woodiwiss, her main passion is history and storytelling rather than romance. She still falls into the rape trap, though, and in this case it bothered me a bit more than in The Wolf and the Dove.

I do like the overall plot of the book, however. Along with her other book, Seduced, which was an inspiration for my fic Only a Look and a Voice, I have jury rigged it into a fanfic. I won’t tell you which one, though.

I kind of only want to give this a 6/10. Summer, the female lead, is a bit too objectified for me to be comfortable with any longer.

Man of my Dreams by Johanna Lindsay

This had a good start, but the sex was miniscule, and as I said above, squeamishly non-consensual. I don’t recommend this book at all.

However, kudos for the ridiculous Fabio cover, which I couldn’t help but include when I took a picture for this essay.

4/10

Remembrance by Jude Devereaux

This book has both a virginal and a non-virginal female lead, and has almost no sex in it. I’ve read it a few times, and it’s a favourite, but it’s been quite a while since I last picked it up.

The basic concept is that the pair are reincarnated throughout history. A large chunk of the book is set a very long time ago, when their romance did not turn out well, and they cursed each other on death, a curse that reverberates through their future incarnations.

This book is angsty, and tragic. It’s really weird, really unique, and a really good read.

Unfortunately, the ending - although happy - is very flat and rushed, almost as though the author suddenly decided at the last moment to stop writing and wrap it up. This was a similar issue I had with the other book I reviewed by her, A Knight in Shining Armour.

That being said, it’s still really good.

8/10

Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon

Smut wise, she hit it out of the park in the first book. Seriously, so, so good. But throughout the series, it sort of becomes rote, like marriage often is, and the sex no longer is noteworthy.

Also, past the third book, romance is much less of a factor, and I feel like she’s gotten into the trap many contemporary authors fall into of endlessly writing a series that no longer tells a story but rather just keeps continuing a world that’s been built.

Luckily, I really enjoy the world she’s built.

If you have the stomach for tough scenes and a two foot high stack of words, have at it. 9/10, recommend. If you’re lazy, there’s a TV series, which was very well done by the same guy who produced the successful reboot of Battlestar Galactica, which I will slip in here as one of my other all time favourite shows.

Fifty Shades Of Grey by EL James

I had a hard time reading this and it was a long time ago, so I can’t really recommend it. If you’re into reading things because you want to see what the fuss is about or to make some kind of contextual analysis, have at it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t bother.  I’m not going to assign a number to this since I don’t remember it well enough.

Sinner by Aubrey Irons

This review was why I started typing all this nonsense in the first place.

The story is about a preacher’s daughter and a bad boy dive bar owner. His dad’s a preacher too, although much more chill than her dad.

They have an immediate attraction, and over the course of the book, they gradually fall for each other.

The plot… is kind of thin. I mean it’s there, but it’s almost an excuse for the slow burn/build-up of smut that is the real heart of this novel. It’s well done smut, I fucking loved it. But this book is light on story.

That being said, 8/10 for a fun, shamelessly smutty book, that pretended to be serious.

***

If you got this far, I really appreciate any feedback or opinions you may want to share on this topic. I’m shutting off anon for the next day or so, however, as it never seems to go well when I express too much of an opinion on this site.

Thanks for reading.