Bodice Rippers

As we roamed through the used bookstore a few weeks ago, we were struck by the sheer volume of romance novels available for purchase.  They occupied a full half of one wall, it seemed.  Related books were even packaged together in brown paper bags - 15 volumes, only $3.  A bargain!

There is no wonder why such novels continue to be popular, despite their formulaic plots, pedestrian characters, and humdrum language.  There seems to be an inherent human need -- possibly (though not necessarily) primarily a female need, given the target audience of the vast majority of romance novels -- to imagine oneself in the throes of an all-consuming passion.  From teenagers to aged crones, the sentiments are the same:  we long to be cherished; to be treated unexpectedly tenderly; to be rescued when in distress; to be loved for who we are.  And also, to feel the flutterings of desire:  the desire to be touched; the desire to be held; the desire to be desired, slowly, carefully, and completely.

An occasional escape into such a world is most welcome. Perhaps we should pick up one of these books and see whether it suits our fancy.  Or perhaps, more interestingly, we should try to write our own.