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Six Styles of Love, Romance Novel Style

Gratuitous illustration from N.C. Wyeth's "The Legends of Charlemagne."

Gratuitous illustration from N.C. Wyeth’s “The Legends of Charlemagne.”

Recently on Tumblr, I ran across a list of the six styles of love as defined by John Lee, and naturally my mind strayed to romance novels.

As I read through the list, I began to identify each stage with a romance novel, to wit:

Eros

a passionate physical and emotional love based on aesthetic enjoyment; stereotype of romantic love

Almost all of Mary Jo Putney’s Fallen Angels historicals fit here; Shattered Rainbows comes to mind for the very passionate, emotional attachment between Lord Michael Kenyon and Catherine Melbourne. 

Ludus 

a love that is played as a game or sport; conquest; may have multiple partners at once

The classic example is Edith Layton’s Traditional Regency The Duke’s WagerRegina becomes the prize in a wager between the Marquis of Bessacarr and the legendary roue the Duke of Torquay. Ludus was alive and well in the Regency period, evidently — the trope of a female as prize in a wager is common in the Traditional Regency, though few have done it so well as Edith Layton.

Storge

an affectionate love that slowly develops from friendship, based on similarity

Like Mary Jo Putney and Eros, Carla Kelly writes almost exclusively to the Storge style of love, allowing her heroes and heroines to grow to love one another from a seed of friendship and mutual understanding. One of her finest examples of Storge is her Traditional Regency With This RingLydia and Sam meet when she volunteers at a makeshift military hospital, and develop a close friendship that deepens to love.

Pragma 

love that is driven by the head, not the heart

Pragma should have been easiest for me to identify; after all, romance is a genre that abounds with stories of marriages of convenience. But when I see Pragma assigned to a style of love, I think more of love that comes from an intellectual connection rather than an hormonal connection — not business so much as intellectual pleasure.

One of the first romances I thought of as I brainstormed was Laura Kinsale’s historical My Sweet Folly, which begins with correspondence between the two leads, who are separated by continents and years. But the letters between Robert and Folie are too romantic, even at the outset, for this to apply to my somewhat narrow standards.

Two other books, though, did come to mind. The first, My Dearest Enemyan historical by Connie Brockway, also relies heavily on letters between adventurer Avery Thorne and suffragette Lily Bede. Unlike Robert and Folie, who find themselves romantic and kindred spirits from the start, Avery and Lily’s letters begin as intellectual sparring before growing into a deeper affection.

The other book, Heart in Hiding  by Emma Richmond, a Harlequin from 1990 that I recently reviewed, might be more of a Pragma story than even My Dearest Enemy. Corbin and Verity, the hero and heroine, seem barely aware of each other as man and woman at the book’s beginning; only as Verity proves herself resourceful and indispensable, and Corbin reveals himself as more than an irascible destroyer of all things electronic do they begin to develop romantic feelings for each other.

Mania

obsessive love; experience great emotional highs and lows; very possessive and often jealous lovers

Pretty much most Gothics published between 1960-1979, and 95% of the Harlequin/Mills & Boon output from 1970-2000.

Agape

selfless altruistic love; spiritual

When linking Agape and romance, my mind went straight to another Laura Kinsale, the much-loved Flowers From the Stormwhich is the story of Quaker Maddy Timms and Christian Langland, Duke of Jerveaux. Maddy helps to rehabilitate Christian after a devastating stroke leaves him confined to an asylum, in a seemingly textbook case of Agape.

Instead, yet another Laura Kinsale book came immediately to mind, For My Lady’s HeartA medieval historical, For My Lady’s Heart has as much in common with Chaucer and Arthurian legend as historical romance — Ruck, the hero, is on what can only be described as a spiritual quest to repay what he sees as a debt of the soul to heroine Melanthe that begins with a would-be saint’s pilgrimage.

While selflessness, altruism and even spirituality are not necessarily the sole property of religion, few blatantly “inspirational” romances are as steeped in spirituality as For My Lady’s Heart. The influence of the church in the late Middle Ages is almost impossible for us as modern readers to comprehend, but Kinsale is one of few medieval romance writers who places the church in its rightful place in this period — it is the framework for the entire book. The church is what brings Ruck to Melanthe, and its teachings and commandments — commandments that carried the weight of law during the Middle Ages — drive much of the book’s plot and almost all of Ruck and Melanthe’s actions.

**WARNING — SPOILERS AHEAD**

The book’s sequel, Shadowheart is also the rare example of true Agape in romance, albeit to less effect than the epic For My Lady’s Heart, which is so steeped in the period that it uses Middle English for all dialogue. Shadowheart does, however, have one of the most affecting climaxes I have ever read in any book — one that hinges on Allegretto’s spiritual salvation.

John Lee’s styles of love were conceived as a “psychology of love,” a way to identify the difference between the ways humans express love and explain why there is, sometimes, a very basic breakdown in relationships resulting from conflicting ways of expressing and feeling love. Using them as a basis for literary criticism may be disingenuous, but it’s a case of the shoe fitting, especially in the case of romance.

Any well-written romance will show the hero and heroine cycling through several of the styles of love as their relationships progress, but most all romance novels seem to rely heavily on one style of love to define the relationship between the two leads. This defining style of love is synonymous with theme — i.e., bodice rippers falling squarely into the Eros style, inspirationals with a Storge theme, or those patently Pragma old-school Harlequins, full of boss/secretary and marriage-of-convenience romances.

Using Lee’s styles of love as a classification system that transcends subgenre just calls to the librarian in me. The styles lend themselves so easily to this use, allowing for description of a book’s tone or theme.  We all know, for instance, what the term “Gothic Romance” means, but further classification in terms of the love styles could help the picky reader to weed out the “Mania Gothic Romances.” It’s an imperfect classification system, yes, but an intriguing place to start.


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Book Review: Heart in Hiding by Emma Richmond

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The arrangement seemed ideal

It would keep Verity in France until her next teaching course — it would involve traveling to the pretty but remote village of Auray. 

Of course, her boss hadn’t outlined the drawbacks of working for his friend to whom he’d offered Verity’s services. Those he’d let Verity find out for herself.

An ex-racing-car driver, the wealthy and well known Corbin McCaid was an irascible man, encased in his own private world. Not that it mattered. Verity could cope with him, even if he did dislike her — she always coped.

First, a thousand pardons for that cover picture — it’s awful, and yet it’s the best (or most viewable) example of a cover for this book that I can find on ye olde interwebs.

That gives you one indication of what a hidden gem we have in Heart In Hiding. Like 98% of Harlequin/Mills & Boon category romances from back in the day, it has been relegated to the dustbin of history, all but forgotten.

But the dustbin of history is not a bad resting place for many 1980s-era Harlequin/Mills & Boon category romances. So many of them are populated by ridiculous heroines and borderline-abusive uber-alpha heroes and hinge on plots that seem so far removed from reality that it can be hard to take them seriously.

Reading the blurb for Heart In Hiding, you’d be forgiven for thinking that this book is an excellent example of the stereotypical 1980s-vintage Mills & Boon/Harlequin. We’re presented with the classic schoolmarm-y type thrown together with the ice-cold hero with the irrevocably wounded heart. Cue the angst.

Verity, however, is no schoolmarm, but a smart, no-nonsense corporate trainer, and if Corbin comes off as just another standard-issue Harlequin alpha jackass at first, then he quickly reveals himself as a socially awkward curmudgeon. No wonder, then, that Heart In Hiding reads so much like those wonderful romantic comedies of the 1930s and 1940s, like Palm Beach Story and His Girl Friday.

Richmond throws these two into funny but utterly believable scenarios that let them play off each other beautifully. It’s a case not so much of opposites attracting, but of two very-much-set-in-their-ways types learning to live with each other.

Sensible Verity has no idea who the “wealthy and well-known” Corbin is, and is nonplussed when it turns out she’s been hired to help him write a book based upon his experiences as a racing driver on location in France.

Everything that can go wrong does. Right out of the gate, they get lost — and quite naturally squabble — looking for the small French town where they will be staying. They arrive long after dark and inadvertently spend an amusing night in the wrong house. When they finally make it to the right house, Corbin (in a wonderful and wonderfully surprising anti-alpha way) turns out to be all thumbs on anything household or electronic, and basically tears up everything he touches. It’s Verity who takes the wheel, both figuratively and literally; one of the book’s best scenes comes when Corbin, as research for his book, ropes Verity into recreating a rally race with him. He says it’s to see what a completely clueless woman would do in such a situation, and does Verity ever show him.

This being a Harlequin, of course Verity is expected to pretend to be Corbin’s lady friend at least once. It’s to get his meddlesome mother off his back, yet another well-worn Harlequin trope. Wonder of wonders, but in this book, the trope actually makes sense. How Verity thinks she’s accomplished this is one of the book’s cutest passages, though we as readers know that by now, she and Corbin are so clearly made for each other that his mother needed no convincing. And surprisingly enough, Corbin’s mother is neither a dragon nor a snob, but an earthy, endearing character who does a lot to explain Corbin’s prickly personality.

The progression these two take from sparring partners to lovers is sweetly funny and perfectly paced. The only two sour notes the book strikes concern another Harlequin stand-by, the obligatory other woman, and the reason for Corbin’s retirement from racing. Of course Corbin’s vapid, beautiful and utterly heartless ex-wife has to turn up to create trouble and make Verity feel plain and boring. This adds little or nothing to the story. The wretched ex-wife also figures into Corbin’s retirement from racing, which could have been a richer plot point had the wife had nothing to do with it.

I thoroughly enjoyed Heart In Hiding.  I give it 4 out of 5 hairdo-destroying race helmets!

Heart In Hiding

Emma Richmond

Harlequin, 1990