Mothers and Daughters

It is a truth almost universally acknowledged that the heroine of a romance novel must be in want of a mother. She may be an orphan, or she may be the abused/neglected child of a toxic mother, but the vast majority of romance heroines are somehow separated from a mother's love.

There are compelling reasons for this. Isolating the heroine from unconditional love makes her eventual connection with the hero that much more important. We feel sympathy for her, which makes us more inclined to read her story and cheer for her eventual Happily Ever After. It is slightly less common for the hero to suffer a lack of mothering. He is a bit more likely than the heroine to have a toxic mother (it is often the reason for an alpha hero's general mistrust of women, bordering on misogyny).

I find myself much more willing to read a story about an orphan heroine (or hero) than one with a toxic mother. That might be due to the little bit I've read about human psychology. An individual who has been completely robbed of a mother's love is not well-equipped to accept love from others.

I remember reading about the heartbreaking experiments that Harry Harlow did with rhesus monkeys at my alma mater (I took a psychology course from one of his former teaching assistants). Baby monkeys were separated from their mothers. Some were given occasional physical contact with their mothers, and some were given no contact at all (a control group remained with their mothers all of the time). The ones who received limited contact were very clingy and anxious. In a group, they all huddled together. The ones who received no contact were hostile and aggressive. They did not like to be touched and would respond to overtures with violence.

Our parents are the only people from whom we can reasonably expect unconditional love. When their love is deliberately withheld, it damages our ability to trust and connect with others. I find it difficult to suspend my disbelief when a heroine raised by a truly toxic mother is transformed almost overnight by the love of a good man. It mirrors the notion that a hardened criminal can be reformed by the love of a good woman. That may be a popular trope in motorcycle club romances, but in real life the best that such a woman can look forward to is occasional conjugal visits for good behavior.

Looking through the historical romances I have enjoyed enough to re-read, most of them feature heroines who were orphaned but knew the love of parents or guardians for at least part of their formative years. Some are those rare romance novels with heroines whose mothers are still living and not toxic (although they may be somewhat challenging).

Julia Quinn's Bridgerton series - Although my favorite Bridgerton novel is actually about one of the sons, there are four books featuring heroines raised by loving family matriarch Violet Bridgerton. Of those, my favorite is To Sir Philip, With Love. (Perhaps not) ironically, Hyacinth becomes a loving stepmother to children whose own mother neglected them.

Confessions from an Arranged Marriage by Miranda Neville - Minerva Montrose's parents are both living. They are eccentric but loving, and their children are all well-adjusted. Minerva's sister Diana is the heroine of The Dangerous Viscount, so that is another book I could name with a living, loving mother.

The Countess Conspiracy by Courtney Milan - I have to give a special Mothers Day shout-out to this book. Violet Waterfield has a formidable mother. She has imposed rigid rules on her daughters to help the family weather the old scandal of their father's suicide. Violet has always feared her mother will reject her if Violet reveals her shocking scientific studies. In the end, her mother's love is truly unconditional and unlimited. Violet must learn that before she can accept Sebastian's love as well.

A Gentleman Undone by Cecilia Grant - Lydia Slaughter's parents stood by her when she fell pregnant out of wedlock. They uprooted the family and moved to a village where no one knew her, to help shield her from the consequences. After their tragic death (I don't recall the circumstances, but I think it was a carriage accident), she blamed herself and embarked on a self-destructive path. Will Blackshear eventually convinced her that she is worthy of love, but that would not have been possible if she had not already known the love of her parents.

Secrets of a Scandalous Heiress by Theresa Romain - Augusta Meredith is mourning the recent death of her parents (in a boating accident rather than a carriage accident) and the defection of her lover. She longs for human connection to comfort her in her grief.

The Spymaster's Lady by Joanna Bourne - Annique Villiers is mourning the recent loss of her mother (whose carriage went over a cliff). Madame Lucille raised her daughter to be an elite spy for the French Secret Police, and Annique has been an exemplary pupil. Over the course of the book, she learns secrets about her beloved mother that force her to question everything she believes. In the end, though, she forgives her mother for the choices she made and accepts that she truly loved her.

A Week to Be Wicked by Tessa Dare - Minerva Highwood's mother is clueless and social-climbing, but she does love her daughters. She reminds me very much of Mrs. Bennett in Pride and Prejudice. Minerva is shy and socially awkward, but she is not emotionally damaged. She is well able to fall in love and be loved in return. Minerva's sister (another Diana) got her own novella, Beauty and the Blacksmith.

My Favorite Rakes

I've been thinking about some of my favorite rakes from 30+ years of reading romances. Some of them were heroes, and some were secondary characters, but they were all men who enjoyed the company of women for friendship as well as for sex. They were all sex-positive, not slut-shaming (philogynist, not misogynist). They were not bitter and mistrustful due to a toxic mother or ex. It seems to me that a rake of this sort is a much better candidate for a committed, long-term relationship than one who needs to learn that women are human beings who are worth talking to.

Here are the fictional rakes whom I remember most fondly even many years later, in chronological (for me) order. I've listed the year in which I read the relevant book(s). For some reason, the books I read in the 1990s didn't have memorable rakes of this type, so there is a lengthy gap.

Spider Elliott from Scruples by Judith Krantz (ca. 1980) - My first example of the species, encountered when I was very young and impressionable. Despite having his heart broken by a beautiful actress, Spider did not resent women in general. He was a considerate (and enthusiastic) lover who also developed a strong platonic friendship with a female colleague. It didn't hurt that in the 1980s TV movie, he was played by my crush at the time, Dirk Benedict from Battlestar Galactica.

Raven from The Windflower by Tom and Sharon Curtis (1984) - Like Spider, Raven was a secondary character. He was also far too young and clueless to be a good relationship prospect. However, I have no doubt that the teenaged Caribbean pirate grew up and settled down with some lucky woman 20-some years later. Unlike Cat, who had serious emotional baggage, and Devon, who had some unpleasant attitudes towards women, Raven was the kind of guy you could comfortably hang out with all night at a party. He would undoubtedly proposition you, but he would cheerfully accept "no" for an answer and still enjoy the conversation.

Sir Gawain (late 1980s) - In college, I took as many medieval literature courses as my schedule could accommodate. I developed a strong love for Arthurian romances. For hundreds of years, before Sir Thomas Malory's works were written, Sir Gawain was the most popular hero of English-language Arthurian tales. He was known for his courtesy and charm, as well as his numerous romantic conquests. Malory, drawing on the French Vulgate cycle, made Sir Lancelot the pre-eminent hero, and Gawain's character was somewhat blackened in contrast. Some modern authors have given Gawain his due, notably Thomas Berger in Arthur Rex and Sharan Newman in her Guinevere Trilogy.

Colin Bridgerton from Romancing Mr. Bridgerton by Julia Quinn (2002) - This is my favorite book in the Bridgerton series. Colin is not only handsome and charming, he is kind to wallflowers. He treats socially awkward Penelope with respect and forges a friendship with her long before he feels a spark of physical attraction. As a former chubby wallflower myself, I found him irresistible.

Rupert Carsington from Mr. Impossible by Loretta Chase (2006) - When he meets Daphne Pembroke, Rupert is entirely honest about his character traits:

“I may be stupid,” Rupert said, “but I’m irresistibly attractive.”...“And being a great, dumb ox,” he went on, “I’m wonderfully easy to manage.”

Colin Sandhurst from A Week to Be Wicked by Tessa Dare (2012) -  Colin never sleeps alone. Literally -- he suffers from severe nightmares, due to a childhood trauma, when he falls asleep without the comfort of a woman beside him. He does not demand sex from his bed partners, but he won't turn it down if it's offered. When bluestocking Minerva Highwood bribes him to take her to Edinburgh, his personal sleep disorder forces them into close proximity during the journey, and Minerva finds the whole experience very educational.

Adrian Hawkhurst from Joanna Bourne's Spymaster series (2015) - When I read The Spymaster's Lady, I found young Hawker more compelling than the book's hero. Despite his brutal Artful Dodger upbringing in London's rookeries, he managed to develop a tender appreciation for females: "He never understood the way some men treated women. Himself, he never got tired of the marvel of them. The sounds they made when they felt good. When you made them feel good. There was nothing in the world like it." No wonder those widows in Milan remembered Hawker so fondly.

The Spies Whom I Loved

I don't read very many romance novels featuring spies. I usually get my spy fix from movies. This should be a particularly good year for that, with Kingsman: The Secret Service, The Man from U.N.C.L.E., and Spectre all being released in 2015.

I prefer my romances less heavy on the suspense elements, so I tend to avoid spy-themed books. However, I do occasionally read a historical romance by a favorite author that features a spy hero and/or heroine. Some of those books have really stayed with me. Here are some that continue to be among my favorites:

Captives of the Night by Loretta Chase - The extremely handsome and charming Comte d'Esmond is really a spy for the British. He developed an unrequited and inconvenient passion for married Leila Beaumont. When her husband is murdered, circumstances force them together, but his dark secrets threaten to tear them apart. He is exactly the kind of fictional spy who intrigues me most -- cosmopolitan, witty, and smoking hot.


Your Scandalous Ways by Loretta Chase - A cynical British spy named James is on a mission in Venice. His assignment leads him to fallen woman Francesca Bonnard. I loved the setting and the very subtle nods to various James Bond films. The whole book was a delightful good time.

Anything by Joanna Bourne. Since I normally avoid spy romances, I did not discover Joanna Bourne until this year. The reviews for her latest book, Rogue Spy, led me to try her back catalog. I am currently on Book 4, and I have loved every page so far. She skillfully inter-weaves the suspense plots (set during the Reign of Terror and the Napoleonic Wars) and the romance plots, creates compelling secondary characters and writes the best damaged-but-redeemable heroes since Laura Kinsale.

What Happens in London by Julia Quinn - This is a more light and humorous novel than the others. Sir Harry Valentine is not really a professional spy (he works as a translator for the War Office), but he is forced to behave like one. Olivia Bevelstoke plays amateur spy herself, as she suspects her neighbor is up to something dastardly and decides to find out for herself. There are some playful nods to Hitchcock films (I seem to remember that the author considered calling this book The Trouble With Harry).

Rags to Riches

A thought-provoking post on the Wonkomance blog got me thinking about how my own working-class upbringing has impacted my taste in romance novels.

I am one of those readers who prefers novels that provide an escape from real life rather than a story that mirrors the challenges that I have personally faced. To that end, I usually read historical romances, particularly those that take place in Regency or Victorian England.

I have noticed that most of the heroines are members of the gentry. They may be poor, but it is genteel poverty. The hero may have grown up poor, but by the time the story begins, he has usually amassed significant wealth through his own hard work and ingenuity. If he is a nobleman (or at least a gentleman), he may be facing debts that his forbears amassed and need to marry money for the sake of the family estate. He is almost never a poor man of the lower classes. One exception is Tessa Dare's Spindle Cove novella Beauty and the Blacksmith. I did not enjoy it nearly as much as her other books, perhaps because the HEA seemed less happy to me.

Less rare is the historical romance novel that features a poor, lower-class heroine who manages to win the love of a wealthy gentleman. It is hard to resist a good Cinderella story. I am currently reading The Bridal Season by Connie Brockway, which features an illegitimate music hall performer/con artist impersonating a noblewoman. Naturally, the hero is the local magistrate. I have no doubt that the two will eventually fall in love and live happily ever after. In keeping with the spirit of the Cinderella story, the heroine does have noble blood (she is the natural daughter of a viscount).

Here are some other memorable rags-to-riches historical romances that I have read over the years:

• River Lady by Jude Deveraux - This book is unusual in that the heroine, Leah, grows up in grinding, not genteel, poverty; during their first encounter, the hero has concerns about her personal hygiene. After they are forced to marry, his female relatives do the requisite make-over to turn Leah into an acceptable wife. While the book's values seem shallow at times, it also makes a strong case that Leah's admirable qualities are largely because of rather than in spite of her unfortunate upbringing. She is intelligent despite being illiterate, and she has keen memory skills because she cannot rely upon written notes. The setting on the American frontier makes such extreme social mobility seem more plausible.
• The Shadow and the Star by Laura Kinsale - One of the most outrageous plots that I have ever enjoyed -- poor English shopgirl meets white Hawaiian ninja. Just go with it; you won't regret it. Check out the old Fabio covers and the author's amusing comments on the website (note that she names "shark" as the book's mascot animal, for obvious reasons).
• An Offer from a Gentleman by Julia Quinn - The third book in the Bridgerton series was deliberately patterned after Cinderella. Sophie is the natural daughter and "ward" of a deceased nobleman, but her stepmother treats her like a servant (just like in the fairy tale).
• Any Duchess Will Do by Tessa Dare - This is probably the least plausible plot in the Spindle Cove series, in which a lower-class farmgirl-turned-tavern-wench finds herself betrothed to a duke. The book is well-written and enjoyable, however, even if it required a greater-than-usual suspension of disbelief.

Happy reading. Try to turn in before midnight.