But we make them anyway, right? We all have preferences: I like X better than Y. When we feel the need to justify a preference, we say ‘because.’ That is what today’s (very long) post is.
In 2020 I read 280+ books, mostly romance, and predominantly M/M. That means - inevitably - I encountered similar tropes or plotlines many times. Every book has its own unique elements, but there are limitations (or maybe expectations) in genre fiction. In historical romance, there are certain conventions, built over the past 3 centuries of fiction-writing, that can appear very fresh when the MCs (main characters) are both men. That’s because for most of the past 3 centuries it has been personally, financially, and/or legally dangerous for two men to engage in a love affair.
Many men did so, of course. Very few of them did so openly. It was common for men to live together - ‘sharing rooms’ - and there were ways for men to touch each other, or otherwise be physical, in public without getting arrested. But the risks were (and in quite a few countries still are) significant. That informs how a writer who intends to take their history seriously can deal with a M/M romance.
On the contemporary side, once the setting is, say, later than 1975 in the US or Western Europe, Canada or New Zealand, the writer has much more freedom. There are still places within those bounds where being openly gay - meaning engaged openly in a love/sex relationship with a person of the same gender - is dangerous. Places where the rights of gay men and trans people, in particular, are very much not respected. But a romance set in 2015 San Francisco is not realistically going to have conflict centered on ‘we can’t be together because society.’
So the writer has to choose something else. A plotline I’ve seen several times over the past year goes like this: MC1 has a personal challenge or history which makes them believe they cannot be in a relationship/cannot be loved. Then they meet MC2 and start to fall in love. MC2 may or may not also have a personal challenge or history contributing to unwillingness/perceived inability to be in a relationship/be loved. The romance, then, is in the How Do They Get There.
How do they a) recognize their attraction; b) give in to their attraction; c) deal with their challenge or history; so that d) they can be together in a way that gives the reader some confidence this is a happy-ever-after (HEA) or at least a happy-for-now (HFN). Because HEA or HFN is pretty much a requirement if what you are writing is a romance. If you are leaving one or both of your MCs miserable, you are writing literary fiction. Go you; I ain’t reading it.
One of my favorite books of 2020 is ‘Boyfriend Material’ by Alexis Hall. I have done a complete read of Alexis Hall, meaning I’ve read everything currently available, since discovering him last summer. Several of the books I’ve read more than once. I’ve read ‘Boyfriend Material’ three times. Now, this book has the above plotline. MC1, the POV character, is Luc; he is the child of 1970s pop music stars and has been plagued by the rapacious British tabloid press all his life. MC2 is Oliver; he is the child of upper-class twits who treat his ‘gayness’ as a sort of embarrassing disability about which they make sharp-edged apologies/jokes in public. Luc and Oliver have met before in ways that didn’t go well, mostly because Luc is a hedgehog and Oliver is a turtle. (Metaphorically speaking.) They do eventually end up together, but the course of true love does not run smooth, and it’s a HFN: yes they’re in love, but they both still have a long way to go to really accept a) that they are able to Do Relationships and b) that this particular person wants them no matter what.
Last night I read a book called ‘The Love Study’ by Kris Ripper. It’s the first of Ripper’s books for me, and I liked it. The storyline is the same as above. MC1, Declan, is a person who has worked as a temp for years because he’s afraid of commitment. One of the reasons he’s afraid of commitment is that, in the first rosy flush of marriage equality, fresh out of college, he and his ex Mason got engaged and planned a wedding, from which Declan fled literally at the moment when he was meant to be walking down the aisle. His friends - including Mason, after a few years of rapprochement - are close and loving, but still introduce him as ‘the one who left his last boyfriend at the altar.’ This is a reasonable setup for someone to think they are not cut out for romance.
Then Declan is introduced to Sidney, a genderqueer person who has a YouTube advice show, and who (for various reasons, including the interest of a sponsor and the clearly-signaled interest of Sidney, though this book is entirely in Declan’s POV) suggests Declan could do a series of dates they can discuss on the show. For various reasons (including his own interest) Declan says yes. The first three dates, with volunteers from among Sidney’s viewers, are successful in the sense of giving them something to talk about on the show with which the show’s viewers connect. Declan also develops a serious crush on Sidney. The fourth date, then, is the two of them. A couple weeks later, they are teetering on the brink of falling in love. This brings out all of Declan’s anxieties, which are amplified by the imminent wedding of two of his best friends. Yes, the same ones who make a joke of his previous panic-attack-precipitated flight from his own wedding. So Declan does what people do in this storyline: he bails out. Leaves Sidney, because he (Declan) can’t do relationships, and then ghosts them because he can’t talk about it. Has another panic attack.
Panic attacks are real. I’ve had them. They do make you feel as if a) you are about to die and b) everything leading up to them is to be avoided. So none of this is to say that Declan’s reaction to the terrifying possibility of being in love (and the terrifying difficulty of making that work when your own flaws/history are constantly flung in your face) is unrealistic.
Because this is a romance, Declan and Sidney do work it out. And there is reason to believe, because they actually start talking (Sidney is quite articulate, but they have their own blind spots; Declan mostly needs to believe that someone is willing to hear him), that the relationship will work. It’s another HFN for me, despite the epilogue showing them living their life in the circle of friends and despite the assurance that Declan is going back to badly-needed therapy.
Let me say again: I liked ‘The Love Study.’ I would recommend it. But the book I will re-read is ‘Boyfriend Material,’ and here’s why.
MC1: Declan and Luc are both in their late 20s. They both have good reason to think their relationships are doomed. In Declan’s case, it was severe anxiety; in Luc’s it was actual betrayal by a college boyfriend who sold the story of their relationship to the tabloids. Point to Luc: that was not his fault. Caveat: anxiety is also not anybody’s fault. BUT. In Declan’s case, it’s the single instance. In Luc’s case, this happens over and over again. Even while he and Oliver are conducting what begins as a fake relationship, Luc has to deal both with the tabloids and with the reappearance in his life of his father (who walked out when Luc was three) AND then with said father dumping him again.
Every time Luc takes a step toward ‘maybe this could work,’ something else happens to knock him back. He’s only even seeing Oliver in an attempt to save his job because he’s been pegged as ‘the wrong kind of gay.’ The book doesn’t belabor this point, but it’s valid: public perception is a needle that’s very difficult to move once there is money to be made by keeping it pointing to ‘he’s a fuckup.’ Also: homophobia is real.
MC2: in ‘The Love Study,’ Sidney has their issues but nothing bad actually happens to them during the story. They are in a position of living a certain way by choice, working their way toward success on their own terms. Their attraction to Declan is clearly rendered and their behavior toward him is increasingly loving. No outside forces interfere with Sidney’s ability to forgive Declan and start working it out. But they also don’t really move toward him, which means Declan has to do all the work.
Meanwhile in ‘Boyfriend Material,’ we can only infer Oliver’s issues. The book rewards re-reading because once you see what Oliver contends with - which happens quite late in the book - you read his behavior toward Luc very differently. Oliver is a barrister, but that’s not good enough for his parents. They want him doing the kind of law that makes a lot of money. They are so hateful to him at the event for which he needed a presentable date (his side of the ‘fake relationship’ bargain) that he breaks down entirely.
What that accomplishes in terms of the story is realistically setting up one more crank of the conflict lever, because now we know why Oliver is so desperately controlled and why he - with good looks, a good career, and a respectable tabloid-free family, not to mention all the sweet things he does - is so convinced nobody can love him. What it accomplishes for Luc is giving him a way to be the strong person in the relationship, over the course of which he has already made significant strides toward accepting himself as a lovable, worthwhile person. His friends are part of that. They are as close and loving as Declan’s friends, plus they don’t constantly jeer at Luc about his Fatal Flaw. They help.
That, in fact, is another reason ‘Boyfriend Material’ is the book I’ll come back to. I have no problem with friend groups giving each other shit about the things they do or say that are ridiculous. I do have a problem with a friend group spending six years blaming someone for his legitimate mental-health issue.
How the hell do you expect someone to feel forgiven if you are throwing his one - ONE - big fail in his face every time you introduce him to someone new? Especially when that one big fail is something he has sought professional help for, and done penance for through six years of being afraid to try again?
Honestly, I felt bad for Declan. And I felt bad for him in a way I couldn’t quite brush under the now-they’re-in-love rug. The severity of his issue meant that I needed to see more recovery.
Whereas I felt bad for both Luc and Oliver, but in a way that leaves room to believe that they are capable of giving each other what they need. One of Oliver’s friends is also slightly problematic. The difference is that the others call that person out. Luc’s friends are so supportive that they literally drive him across the country in an attempt to locate Oliver. They don’t just yell at him about how he should try to fix this. They don’t quite understand the depth of his scars, but they also don’t blame him for the shitty things other people have done.
Both of these books are funny; both are also heart-wrenching. Both are good. Anyone who likes the first will probably like the second. Ripper even gives a shout-out to Hall in the acknowledgements. But where ‘The Love Study’ goes in the ‘glad I read it’ category, ‘Boyfriend Material’ sent me down the ‘read everything Hall has published’ road. A road I know I will travel again.