An Excess of Romance: Why We Need More Focus on Platonic Relationships in Fiction

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Romance. I don’t think there’s much that I can say about it that hasn’t been said already.

Stories, poems, blogs and books about romance are hardly in short supply. Anything you want to know about the subject (and much that you don’t), somebody has already written about somewhere. So, you might ask, why am I writing ANOTHER blog post about romance?

Well, the answer to that question is that I’m not. In fact, I’m writing something that’s the exact opposite.

Heh. I suppose that’s not entirely true either. I have nothing against romance in the real world. Not that I have any experience in it to present you with an informed opinion.

Today, we’re talking about fictional romance. About the ubiquity, the nigh omnipresence of romance in popular fiction.

Well, I suppose movies are more guilty of this than novels, but only marginally.

Romance – It’s EVERYWHERE!!

Let’s get something out of the way from the get-go. I’m not against a well written romantic novel, or a funny and engaging rom-com for that matter. That’s not what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about the fact that creators seem to feel the need to shoehorn in random bits of romantic subplot into stories that otherwise have absolutely nothing to do with romance.

I mean you could simply remove the romance – rip it clean out of the narrative – and nothing would change. It wouldn’t impact the story in any way whatsoever. Want an example? Angels and Demons by Dan Brown. Many hard-boiled crime/detective fiction has this problem of undeveloped and unnecessary romantic subplots being shoehorned in, so it’s not like I’m picking on Dan Brown here.

Angels and Demons is just the most recent novel I’ve read where I encountered this problem. Another one that comes to mind is The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch. Why did Locke need to be obsessed with some random woman who never makes an appearance on the page and has no role to play in the story? Who knows? It’s not as if we could have a hero without a love interest (horror of horrors)!

Theft of Swords by Michael J. Sullivan was probably my favorite book of 2018, and even that suffered from this shoehorning problem. Royce – one of the two protagonists – has a girlfriend who is also a badass prostitute and is mentioned all of five times in the first two books. Why did she need to exist? Well, I’m still waiting to find out.

It’s not even that I dislike romantic subplots. In fact, they can be very well done in some stories. Think Peter and El’s relationship in White Collar and compare it to the non-existent chemistry between Aragorn and Arwen in the Lord of the Rings movies. Sigh.

So why do creators – be they novelists or showrunners or moviemakers – feel the need to insert incongruent romantic subplots into their stories, regardless of whether or not it makes any sense?

Everybody loves romance! Or do they???

One reason could be that romance is universally relatable, so it increases the potential target audience of the story. I mean, you may not be a big fan of classic medieval fantasy but might still watch the LoTR movies because of Arwen and Aragorn and their relationship. Well, that’s the theory anyway.

The problem is, though, that this doesn’t really work.

I mean, it’s not as if there’s any shortage of good romantic fiction out there. There are thousands upon thousands of excellent (and some not-so-excellent) romantic novels and movies; created by people who are genuinely interested in the subject and enjoy writing about it.

So why would a reader who is genuinely interested in the romantic aspect of the story, forgo all of that great literature to read a half-assed attempt at romance inserted into a storyline that would not just have survived, but thrived without it?

Nobody reads Dan Brown for the romance. Angels and Demons would have done just as well had Vittoria Vetra been Langdon’s long-lost sister.

Which is not to say, of course, that writers and storytellers should not portray romantic relationships in their stories unless it serves some kind of a crucial plot related purpose.

Romance is a part of life for most people, and a character can have a love interest even if the love interest doesn’t really add anything to the story, just like they can have a mother, father, brother, or pet dog that doesn’t add much to the story.

The problem arises when it becomes almost a cardinal rule of storytelling that the main character MUST have a love interest, regardless of what else the story is about.

A Single-Minded Focus

I’m not saying there aren’t stories with absolutely no romance in them. Of course, all rules have exceptions. But it’s hard to find a popular piece of fiction, written in recent times, where the main character doesn’t have a love interest of some sort.

If Poirot had been created in the 2010s, you can be damn sure he would have had a long-lost girlfriend (or boyfriend) tucked in there somewhere!

And that wouldn’t be a problem if this exclusive focus on romantic couplings hadn’t sidelined all other types of relationships. Platonic relationships, even those as fundamental as parent-child or sibling relationships, are often overlooked and glossed over in favor of devoting page-time to a romance that may or may not add anything to the story.

The Sidelining of Platonic Relationships

Of course, there are exceptions to this too. Supernatural, one of the most popular (and long running) TV shows of recent times, is all about the relationship between two brothers, their trials, tribulations and triumphs.

But that is definitely more an exception than a rule.

Even with the recent rise in the popularity of on-screen ‘bromances’, far fewer shows, films or books focus heavily on platonic relationship dynamics at the cost of romantic ones.

Nowhere is this more apparent than in BBC’s Sherlock, where a canonically aromantic character such as Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes was romantically ‘shipped’ with multiple characters by the showrunners throughout the four seasons of the show. The same can be said for Elementary, Sherlock’s American counterpart.

It got to the point where even Mycroft, Sherlock’s nigh-omniscient and borderline robotic older brother, wasn’t spared the shipping treatment in the final few episodes of the BBC show.

The Increasing Diversity in Fictional Romance

Of course, one must give credit where credit is due. And while romance is everywhere, at least it’s now far less monochromatic and homogenous than it was before.

While it’s still not very common, it wouldn’t be absolutely shocking and unimaginable to see (or read about) a lead character in a same-sex relationship of the romantic variety. Case in point, one of the characters that BBC’s eponymous Sherlock was relentlessly ‘shipped’ with, by both the showrunners and the fans, was Dr. John Watson, his best friend and companion from the original novels and short stories.

Which again, brings us neatly around to the point about the glossing over of platonic relationships in favor of romantic ones.

Perhaps the fact that I am aromantic has something to do with my fatigue with the oversaturation of romance in fiction. It certainly does have a role to play, in all probability.

But mostly, I’m tired of seeing the same old tropes reused over and over again by people who very obviously don’t even care about the tropes themselves, and are only adding them in because they somehow feel like they have to.

There are romantic subplots that I still enjoy, but they’re few and far between. Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo is a good example of a story that properly integrates the romance with the plot without making it feel contrived.

But you know what I’d really like at this point?

A Break from the Constant Barrage

A main character who doesn’t give a flying fuck about getting the girl (or the guy), and has, you know, goals and aims that do not revolve around the desire to stick their tongue down somebody else’s throat. That’d be a nice change of pace, wouldn’t it?

It’s not even that they have to be aromantic or asexual or anything like that (though a little representation here and there wouldn’t be totally unwelcome). But that isn’t the point. At least not for me, and not at this moment.

The point is to explore relationships that don’t necessarily end with the participants getting into each other’s pants.

Not as viscerally satisfying, perhaps, but certainly quite emotionally rewarding when done well. Theft of Swords got this right with the relationship between friends and partners-in-crime, Royce and Hadrian.

I haven’t finished the series yet, but I would pay to see Brent Weeks spend more page-time developing the relationship between Kip and his father/uncle Gavin, rather than the tired old bodyguard romance between Gavin and Karris.

And dear Lord and Terry Pratchett, could we have a sequel to Good Omens? Pretty please?!!

My Own Struggles with Romantic Subplots

And it’s not that I haven’t tried writing romance myself. Believe me, I have! But for me personally, it always felt like being on the outside looking in. And not with a clear enough view to do justice to the genre or bring much by way of authenticity to the table.

So when I started writing my second novel, I decided to forgo any romantic subplots. Which wasn’t an easy decision at the time; not with the market flooded with romance-laden fiction in every genre.

For a time, I genuinely believed that nobody might want to read a book with no romance in it.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? There are already plenty of books with plenty of romance in them. And better written romance than anything I could hope to produce. So why would a romance enthusiast come my way to satisfy their cravings for literary liaisons anyway?

And maybe I didn’t need everyone under the sun to like my stories. Maybe, all I needed was to be true to myself, and by extension, to maybe be true to the people who agree with me about this particular topic.

Authenticity versus Popularity

I mean, surely I can’t be the only person who’s been dying to read about a solid friendship surrounded by all the magic, mayhem and badassery that the mind can handle!

Surely, there are other people out there who find the development and growth of an interesting platonic relationship as engaging as that of a romantic one.

And if not? Well, at least I would have written a novel that I wanted to read.

Which is not to say that I will never write about romantic relationships, of course. Just that I wouldn’t do so just to tick a box by inserting a cliché love story into a novel that doesn’t need it, and isn’t enriched by it in any way.

And if that means I’m not casting as wide a net as I could have for my projects? Well, at least I’d be casting a more authentic one, and hopefully a more interesting one as well!

And if at some point in the future, I feel like there’s a romantic story that I just HAVE to tell? Oh well, blog posts can always be edited, can they not?

The Problem with ‘Problematic’ Fiction: A Defence of Vampiric Alpha Billionaires

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Why is fantasizing about being in a semi-abusive relationship with a hot billionaire any worse than fantasizing about being an orphaned Chosen One hunted by a dark wizard?

That was the question I was faced with yesterday, while browsing the Goodreads comment section for a run-off-the-mill billionaire romance/erotica. Now I am by no means saying that this book was an outstanding work of literature. I haven’t read the book, so I have no way of knowing what kind of quality it has to offer.

That Which Separates Fantasy and Reality

But one of the major (and common) complaints about it on the comment section was that the relationship that it featured was ‘problematic’. And that reading about this problematic relationship might adversely affect young readers who would then proceed to expect this sort of behavior and dynamic in their own relationships.

These sorts of concerns are nothing new. It’s the exact same sort of thing people have been saying for years about a plethora of books including Twilight, Fifty Shades of Grey, A Court of Thorns and Roses and myriad other YA titles.

It’s not that I don’t understand where the critics are coming from. The twenty-seventh time you read about some alpha dude getting his knickers in a twist because his lady-love has spoken to another man is twenty-six times too many, in my opinion. But that’s just my taste in bedtime reading. It doesn’t have to be yours. And while everyone is allowed to rant about tropes they find annoying, of course, it is the accompanying moral handwringing that I find quite uncalled for.

I mean, that line of argument doesn’t even make sense. Not really. If reading about Christian Grey makes you seriously consider hooking up with an abusive billionaire, what’s to say reading about Batman wouldn’t make you seriously consider dressing up as a nocturnal mammal and beating up street thugs?

It might, of course. But in that case you’ve got far bigger problems to deal with in life than your exposure to ‘problematic’ fiction.

Why is it that everyone seems to think young girls reading Twilight might go on to have unhealthy relationships thanks to their exposure to the book, and yet nobody seems to have the same concerns about young boys watching The Fast and the Furious growing up to become reckless drivers?

I mean both of those things are theoretically possible. It’s just that we (normally) trust people to know the difference between fantasy and reality. The only demographic to whom this courtesy is not extended seems to be young women reading over-the-top, Harlequinesque romances. Never mind the fact that most popular fiction is over-the-top, unrealistic, and ‘problematic’ in one way or another.

All Fiction is Problematic

I mean, sure, you wouldn’t really want a semi-murderous vampire to be obsessed with your smell. But then again, would you really want to have a lightening shaped scar on your forehead, acquired when some psychotic terrorist murdered your parents? For that matter, would you really even want to attend a school where people regularly fall off incredible heights after getting hit by giant flying balls on their broomsticks? Probably not. Definitely not the kind of place you’d want to enroll your children in.

Most people who get a kick out of murder mysteries probably don’t really want to be involved in a murder themselves. And even hardcore Captain America fans would probably balk at the idea of being injected with an experimental steroid to be deployed as a super-soldier to a real war-zone.

Would being exposed to Captain America at a young age make you more amenable to experimental drug trials? It might, but in that case you need therapy more than media censorship.

But none of these concerns keep us from enjoying those ridiculously over-the-top, yet unbelievably entertaining stories. Because we all know that what’s good in fantasy isn’t good in reality. What you find entertaining to think about is not the same as what you want to experience in your real, day-to-day life.

Reading and enjoying violent Mafia novels doesn’t mean you want to join the Mafia. In fact, most people who’re actually in the Mafia probably haven’t read that many Mafia novels at all. I’m pretty sure they’ve got more important shit to deal with. Like, you know, killing people and stuff.

So why should reading about overly-possessive alpha boyfriends mean that you’ll really end up in unhealthy and abusive relationships?

I’m not saying that that’s impossible. All I’m saying is that the one doesn’t necessarily lead to the other. You can end up in an abusive relationship without ever having read a single book in the Twilight saga, just like you can become a drug kingpin without ever having watched The Godfather.

Never let anyone tell you that you need to consume ‘problematic’ media in order to have a problematic life, kids. Those two can exist completely independent of one another. I promise.

Arson, Murder, and Kissing Fuckbois

I was as annoyed as the next person with the Twilight frenzy that overtook the pre-teen population during the mid-2000s. I read all the intellectual-sounding criticisms and socially-concerned Twilight bashing that the Internet had to offer in those years. And when writing The Classroom Effect at the ripe old age of sixteen, I remember taking great care to ensure that none of my relationships could in any way, shape or form be associated with the dreaded P-word.

I was 23 when I started A Flight of Broken Wings, my second novel. It didn’t feature any significant romantic relationships. It did, however, feature two murders, one theft and multiple stabbings, many of them perpetrated by the hero and his allies.

And the irony of it all is that it never even occurred to me that any one of these elements might be seen as ‘problematic’ by my readers.

Why not, though? Why is a fictional sixteen-year-old dating a 200-year-old vampire any more problematic than a fictional sixteen-year-old becoming an assassin and killing villains? I mean if I had two daughters and one of them was planning to join an assassination squad while the other dated a sparkly fuckboi, I’m pretty sure I’d ground the first one for longer.

Why is being a killer ‘empowering’ while dating a werewolf is ‘problematic’? Wherein lies the difference between the fucked-up-ness of either of those life choices?

I guess what I’m trying to say is that we maybe need to reexamine our ideas of what constitutes power and what constitutes weakness. And why one is more desirable than the other. Why are the stupid (and sometimes violent) fantasies of preteen boys deemed less ‘problematic’ than the stupid (and sometimes sappy) fantasies of preteen girls? And what kind of a relationship do we really even want to have with the world of fantasy?

Because you can’t tell me that reading about Edward Cullen makes you pine for a vampire boyfriend but reading about Bruce Wayne doesn’t make you want to punch criminals in a batsuit. And because acting on either of those impulses in the real world would probably land you in some pretty…problematic spots, if you know what I mean.

Let me know down below your take on the problem of problematic relationships in fiction.

Poetry: The Misguided Romanticization of Everyday Misfortunes

Collided with you on my way to work,

No, it wasn’t a sign, wasn’t destiny’s quirk.

A swollen temple and a bruised nose

Do not herald a date, a wedding, or even a rose.

Dropped my books on my way to class,

Our fingers brushed when you knelt on the grass

Music blasting from the dorm on the second floor

I nodded my thanks and walked through the door.

I know they say it’s divine intervention,

But it’s more just my lack of hand-eye coordination.

I know you believe we were meant to be

But I need spectacles more than a relationship.

Now my scarf’s stuck to your wrist watch,

My hem’s ripped, your buckle’s botched.

I knew I shouldn’t have bought the lace

Oh shit! Did you think this was decreed by fate?

Spilled my coffee on your shirt front

Damn! Was it Ralph Lauren? Peter England?

Here’s a coupon for a dry-cleaning discount

Just tell me you don’t think this counts.

Look, I’m not saying you’re reading too much into this,

Though that might be an accurate analysis.

All I’m saying is our future looks accident prone

So maybe invest in an insurance plan before a wedding loan.