Kia ora koutou,
I was twelve when I first read a Rosemary Rees light romantic novel. She was from Gisborne and was possibly the first NZ writer to write in this genre. She sold like hot cakes. I must have picked one up from the library. My mother sniffed but she read it. We always read each other’s choices otherwise we’d be left with nothing to read before the next library visit and not having something to read was like, hand me the cyanide, now.
I think I needed something to take me away from this adult world I’d entered when I started work. Something that definitely wasn’t about worrying over money, food, new shoes – I was patching mine with cardboard – we all did that – nothing remarkable – but I really wanted a new pair for the winter.
Reading that light romance novel didn’t get me a new pair of shoes but it gave me a light fairy-tale of a story with a happy ending. Perfect.
Then I grew up (a bit) and joined the Hawke’s Bay Branch of the New Zealand Women Writers Assn (now unfortunately swallowed up by its bigger siblings) and met some real live writers of romance. They were hardworking, staunch, had a great sense of humour leavened with cynicism. But not in their books. Their heroines were shy, blonde, soft and stupid, their heroes silent, saturnine (a favourite adjective) and always rich.
But they worked hard, their books sold and it was only fair to read them when their writers had been so good to me.
Of course I’d read and heard sneering references to ‘women’s rubbish’ and other derogatory comments about the light romance genre but I still occasionally read one. There is something about sinking into a book where I know (unlike real life or literary novels) its all going to end happily.
Of course I read other books, fiction, non–fiction, poetry, plays. I got those books from the library too. They received more approval, they got reviewed in The Listener or John O’London Weekly. I raided library shelves – as I say in These Two Hands, I read everything.
However I never understood why light romance novels got such a bad press and were rarely, if ever, reviewed. Do we criticise chocolate or pavlova simply because they’re sweet? Even the people who read them looked guilty if caught with one.
I found Essie Summers, whose books sold millions, read them all. Can’t remember one of them now but I had some happy reading times blobbing out with Essie, away from cooking, cleaning, laundry, kids, gardens – managing.
It was deliberate by now. I knew when I needed a fix. I knew various writers whose work I liked. There’s a much wider range of light novels available now so I’ve continued.
There’s been changes over the years. Feminism, bless its heart, has influenced writers of Light Romances too. The heroines are now independent working women with minds of their own and not afraid to express them but the other notable change has been humour. The introduction of a heroine with a cynical, funny approach to life, even when it was hard soon gave the genre another label –Chic Lit.
Oh – and they don’t end at the bedroom door any more either. In fact some are lucky to make it to a couch let alone a bed. They have sex, sometimes graphically described, against walls, in showers, by a lake, and that’s fun too. Of course we’ve always had sex in those places but not in romantic novels, not until chic lit came along.
We all have our own stars. The first I read was Catherine Robertson’s who wrote three chic lit novels. Intelligent, witty, hardworking main characters, who made me laugh. Danielle Hawkins does too. Hers are set in rural Waikato which is another change. Our romance writers are not afraid to set their novels in Aotearoa. Tracey Alvarez sets her series of very popular novels on Stewart Island or up north somewhere she calls Bounty Bay.
And the heroines have great jobs. For example the first one in Alvarez’ Stewart Island series features a hero, Piper, a police diver. With attitude.
I’ve had a good time blobbing out. I haven’t read anything remotely improving or likely to be mentioned in literary reviews but in between food shopping, cooking, walking, I’ve enjoyed three weeks of non stop light hearted fun reading where I knew with each one it was all going to turn out okay.
Well-written, pacy, perfectly structured, a mix of cynicism and fun. Its like these writers are saying yeah, come on, hop on the bus for the ride – a few bumps here and there but we’ll arrive at the destination called happy, no worries. Yes, we know this is not always so in real life but sometimes it is, so here’s a story which definitely ends in the happy zone. What’s not to like?
So what did you do in the holidays?
Renée
