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On subverting tropes
Apr. 21st, 2017 11:16 pmTL;DR: If an author wants to subvert a trope, but comes too close to representing that trope, then in my opinion, they're more in danger of reinforcing the trope than subverting it at all.
(Content warning: mentions of suicide)
(Spoilers below for the books discussed)
I've been thinking about this in relation to a few books I've read. Recently, I read Shatterproof by Xen Sanders, which overall I found a very realistic and moving account of depression and suicidal ideation. However, while the author's note at the end said that the author wanted to avoid portraying romantic love as a cure for depression, I personally felt like the book came too close to that line to effectively convey that message. Whether the author intended it or not, the easiest reading of the book is that a romantic relationship was what catalyzed Grey's final decision not to commit suicide and to seek help for his depression, and my suspicion is that most readers would come away with the message that a romantic relationship is still crucial to "getting better." Or, to put it another way, that Grey probably would've committed suicide if he had never met Saint. The strong implication of a but-for causation is what makes the book's intended message a little off the mark to me.
How might one convey the idea that romantic love doesn't cure depression, while still writing a love story? One (slightly depressing, though probably realistic) way to do it is to depict a relationship in which the mentally ill character still struggles with suicidal ideation (e.g. Unquiet by Melanie Hansen, portraying a character with bipolar). Another way is to make the depressed character come to the conclusion to seek treatment before they end up in a romantic relationship. (Though, I would add the caveat that, in my opinion, authors shouldn't make "getting better/cured" from a mental illness a prerequisite for a romantic relationship, because that implies that mentally ill people aren't worthy of being in romantic relationships.)
Another example I've encountered is in Bender by Gene Gant. The book doesn't end with Mace being "cured" of his asexuality; however, it does end with him considering the sexual aspect of his new relationship to be special and fulfilling, in contrast to the strong sex repulsion he experienced in a previous relationship. That's not really an effective way to avoid the Asexual Character Gets Cured By The "Right" Partner trope, because it's almost the same thing.
Still another example is Blank Spaces by Cass Lennox. The whole point of Vaughn and Jonah deciding to have an open relationship, to me, was to convey the idea that sex was not important to their relationship, because Vaughn was sex-repulsed and Jonah usually didn't associate sex with romance. However...the climax of their relationship arc in the book...was still a sex/sexual scene. And to me, that really undercut the supposed message of the book that you can have romance without sex.
Ultimately, I think the reason for unsuccessful trope subversions—and the reason why I ended up citing three romance books in this post—is authors' inability to let go of certain genre conventions. For Bender and Blank Spaces, it felt to me like the authors couldn't let go of the idea that a romance arc needed sex as the climax (no pun intended), or else the relationship would feel like "just friends," yet...that's basically missing the point of writing about sex-repulsed asexuals in romantic relationships.
It's annoying, though, because it is possible to still tell the stories authors want to tell while breaking free of genre conventions—authors just have to be willing to do so. (At least in the case of Bender and Blank Spaces; Shatterproof's message may be too tied up with its premise.) For example, you know how I would write a romance with a sex-repulsed asexual? I would make the romantic climax be the couple adorably snuggling in bed.
Basically: a little more self-awareness can go a long way.
(Content warning: mentions of suicide)
(Spoilers below for the books discussed)
I've been thinking about this in relation to a few books I've read. Recently, I read Shatterproof by Xen Sanders, which overall I found a very realistic and moving account of depression and suicidal ideation. However, while the author's note at the end said that the author wanted to avoid portraying romantic love as a cure for depression, I personally felt like the book came too close to that line to effectively convey that message. Whether the author intended it or not, the easiest reading of the book is that a romantic relationship was what catalyzed Grey's final decision not to commit suicide and to seek help for his depression, and my suspicion is that most readers would come away with the message that a romantic relationship is still crucial to "getting better." Or, to put it another way, that Grey probably would've committed suicide if he had never met Saint. The strong implication of a but-for causation is what makes the book's intended message a little off the mark to me.
How might one convey the idea that romantic love doesn't cure depression, while still writing a love story? One (slightly depressing, though probably realistic) way to do it is to depict a relationship in which the mentally ill character still struggles with suicidal ideation (e.g. Unquiet by Melanie Hansen, portraying a character with bipolar). Another way is to make the depressed character come to the conclusion to seek treatment before they end up in a romantic relationship. (Though, I would add the caveat that, in my opinion, authors shouldn't make "getting better/cured" from a mental illness a prerequisite for a romantic relationship, because that implies that mentally ill people aren't worthy of being in romantic relationships.)
Another example I've encountered is in Bender by Gene Gant. The book doesn't end with Mace being "cured" of his asexuality; however, it does end with him considering the sexual aspect of his new relationship to be special and fulfilling, in contrast to the strong sex repulsion he experienced in a previous relationship. That's not really an effective way to avoid the Asexual Character Gets Cured By The "Right" Partner trope, because it's almost the same thing.
Still another example is Blank Spaces by Cass Lennox. The whole point of Vaughn and Jonah deciding to have an open relationship, to me, was to convey the idea that sex was not important to their relationship, because Vaughn was sex-repulsed and Jonah usually didn't associate sex with romance. However...the climax of their relationship arc in the book...was still a sex/sexual scene. And to me, that really undercut the supposed message of the book that you can have romance without sex.
Ultimately, I think the reason for unsuccessful trope subversions—and the reason why I ended up citing three romance books in this post—is authors' inability to let go of certain genre conventions. For Bender and Blank Spaces, it felt to me like the authors couldn't let go of the idea that a romance arc needed sex as the climax (no pun intended), or else the relationship would feel like "just friends," yet...that's basically missing the point of writing about sex-repulsed asexuals in romantic relationships.
It's annoying, though, because it is possible to still tell the stories authors want to tell while breaking free of genre conventions—authors just have to be willing to do so. (At least in the case of Bender and Blank Spaces; Shatterproof's message may be too tied up with its premise.) For example, you know how I would write a romance with a sex-repulsed asexual? I would make the romantic climax be the couple adorably snuggling in bed.
Basically: a little more self-awareness can go a long way.
