24. Women and Romance: A Reader, ed. Susan Ostrov Weisser

I do not think it would be possible for a woman, of any age, race, sexuality, or relationship status, to read this book without performing some serious self-reflection.

The book is divided into eight sections that cover everything from essays on feminism, lesbianism, African-American relations, young love, love and romance as represented by the media, personal letters, and literary criticism. Weisser did a thorough job of compiling multiple viewpoints that span the ages, from 1185 to 1993.

I'll confess I skimmed some parts, especially the section on personal letters that, I confess, bored me. And the 10th or 11th essay on the differences between how men perceive love and romance versus how women perceive them started to sound pretty repetitive. But there were definitely some gems in this collection that were intelligent, thought-provoking, and even charming.

Of course, it is impossible not to read the writings in relation to one's own experiences, and I have been forced to contemplate my relationship with Jesse vs. my "ideal relationship" and all my previous relationships and crushes. Really, it's been quite comforting. Because while Jesse is not one to spout poetry or wrap me in his arms and sear my lips with deeply passionate kisses, the love and compassion we feel for each other is so stable and comfortable that those romance-novel ideals I'd hoped for (not too terribly long ago) hardly seem important anymore. I'm well aware that our relationship is based on friendship, security, and the rational knowledge that we work well together, that our strengths counterbalance our weaknesses, and that, above everything else, we simply enjoy spending time together. Any doubts I had regarding the world-shaking romantic love that I may have missed out on were relatively squashed throughout the reading of this book.

I also wonder if I've found some insight into the proliferation of romance novels that none of the other writers of the multitude of works I've read on the subject addressed. The majority of romance readers and writers claim to be happily married, and there are all sorts of theories over why these women enjoy this sort of fiction (including, but not limited to, escapism, empowerment, or comfort that it's okay to be forced into the stereotypical role of wife and childbearer, etc., etc.).

But I wonder now if women who are in happy, satisfying relationships don't read the novels not because they're missing something, but rather as a means of reliving those first few weeks or months of passionate excitement that almost inevitably fades. Women often say that they feel more intimate with their mates after reading a romance, and I think that this is possibly because the romance reminds them of those feelings once-experienced—not necessarily lost, but harder to recapture now that the relationship has settled into comfort and security.

Only one other thing I wanted to comment on (though I think I could write a whole essay of my own on my thoughts regarding this book), is this quote, taken from one of the final essays, that really hit home:

"All of us, I suppose, had faked a kind of lovableness in our youth, by abandoning the complicated part of ourselves that threatened first bliss. If we could have stopped time, remained in adolescence, we might have continued this pleasantly faked happiness. But buried ambitions or deeply felt beliefs, simmering over time, eventually create heat. It was no longer satisfying to be loved without revealing who we really were. There's an untellable loneliness in being drenched with love directed at someone else."
- from Mary Kay Blakely's essay "The Tender Trap" (1988)

This took me straight back to age 16/17, at Tacoma Community College, when I was determined to be always the cheerful, bubbly, optimistic, flirtatious girl who wanted nothing to do with controversy or disagreement, who desired only to be loved and adored by everyone. There have been times, pretty recently, when I've wondered whatever happened to that girl. I'm more judgmental now and selective of the people I associate with—whereas I once strove to impress others, I now feel that others must equally impress me. I am quicker to disagree and stress my own opinions. I'm much more sarcastic (although I've always had something of a sarcastic sense of humor, it's become more pronounced). I refuse to put up with melodrama or depression when I think the reasons are silly—it simply takes up too much of my own time and energy.

And in realizing this about myself, I've often wondered if that's a good thing or if I would be better off reverting to my teen self, always forgiving, understanding, and determined to make someone else happy regardless of what it did to my own psyche.

The quote above may not have completely erased those concerns, but it has put things into a different perspective and it's liberating to know that I'm not alone in this.

Back to the book: Though it could have been further edited down and I don't think it necessary to read it cover to cover, if you are curious about women's roles in love and romance, traditional and modern, and all of the many facets and viewpoints related to this topic, this is a thorough and engaging book. And it is likely that you will learn something about yourself from it as well.

4 stars

Next: Ever, by Gail Carson Levine (yay! fiction!)