WARNING: This post contains potential triggers—if you have trouble with discussing rape, I would advise you not to read further. Also, this post contains a couple mild SWEPT TO SEA spoilers.
Rating: One star—Ick
Last month Opal @ Opal Swirls wrote an insightful post on why she doesn’t like Christian fiction, and it echoed a lot of my opinions on the subject. But since I am a very opinionated person, and since I want to discuss my issues with SWEPT TO SEA, I’ve decided to share my own thoughts on Christian Romance. You’re welcome. (Also, I would like to thank my sister for aiding and abetting in writing this post.)
Just as a disclaimer before I begin, I in no way intend to imply that all Christian Romance is garbage or that you’re doing something wrong by reading that genre. Even with all my negative experiences, I have still encountered a few authors whose books are well-written, well-balanced, and worthwhile. But I have read enough problematic Christian Romance novels for me to distrust the genre as a whole.
It demeans women. Of all the genres I’ve read, Christian Romance is the worst in this category. Sometimes it’s not obvious—sometimes it is. Often the women follow the same poorly developed character pattern. They are weak and helpless without the men in their lives. They are easily teased/offended; they are judgmental, narrow-minded, and prone to foolish bouts of passion. (For instance, in SWEPT TO SEA, Eden often acts like a child and starts beating Caspian’s chest when he says the slightest thing to annoy her.) They are prone to tears—and I’m not talking about deep, emotional tears, which I have no problem with—I’m talking about temper-tantrum tears. These women tend to be rather low on the intelligence and maturity scale. And in the end, despite whatever levels of character development they do have, for the purpose of the story, they exist only for their men to romance them. Were it not for the romance, their stories would not be worth telling.
Women get treated like sex objects. This bothers me a great deal more than the last one, and I have read too many books where this was the case—including SWEPT TO SEA. Your typical Christian Romance heroine is going to be extremely good-looking, and the author is going to remind you of this fact quite often throughout the story, even when it isn’t essential or even relevant to the plot. The hero of the story is going to notice, rather frequently, how attractive this woman is—her buxom chest, her curvy hips, her soft lips. Just watch for it. Here's the thing, though. If the hero is noticing the attractiveness of the heroine’s lips, he’s going to be thinking about kissing her—that’s just how a guy’s mind works. Okay, you say, so what? Well, let’s take that a step further, shall we? If the hero is noticing her curvy chest and her curvy hips, what do you think he’s thinking about now? Hmm?
The types of men described in Christian Romances aren’t the cold, feelingless types who admire women as works of art but never cross that line in their mind. So if we’re going to be perfectly honest with ourselves, the hero in our Christian Romance is spending a good deal of his time lusting after the heroine. That’s not okay. Since these books are supposed to be Christian stories, you’d expect them to be reasonably clean. But I would think twice before giving this sort of book to my (non-existent) teenage girls, considering that it would be teaching them, in subtle terms, that it’s okay or even desirable for a guy to lust after them.
The Sexual Tension. First, let me just say, there’s nothing wrong with two people having chemistry. But I have a very serious problem with some of the ways Christian authors introduce sexual tension. Let’s start with the big one first—the rape trope. As in SWEPT TO SEA, our lovely, helpless heroine gets attacked by some sort of ruffian with the express intention of deflowering her (bonus points if this happens more than once in the novel), and it is the hero’s duty to save her. Of course, there’s nothing objectively wrong with this sort of set-up, if it’s handled correctly. But it so rarely is.
For one thing, it always makes me feel icky because it seems like a channel for the sexual tension that the author wants to create. She (or he) can’t write an explicitly inappropriate scene, like a love scene between the hero and heroine, because that would be scandalous—so she (or he) writes an attempted rape scene instead because, hey, rape isn’t inappropriate like that. But rape is still sex, and you’re still thinking about sex when you’re reading about it. And these attempted-rape scenes are often written in a way that seems designed to arouse the reader—instead of, you know, a way that would communicate the full horror of that experience. Which means the rape scene gets used to create the same level of sexual tension in the story as a sex scene would—and that’s disgusting.
That’s not all, though. When the hero has saved the lovely damsel in distress, who has often been reduced to a rather scantily-clothed state, this often serves as a channel for further emotional intimacy between him and his darling. Except, excuse me, but that’s not how that works. When a women has just barely escaped something as violating and violent as rape, she isn’t going to recover that quickly because even though she was saved (hurrah!) she still has to deal with the feelings of helplessness and despair that come with realizing that she is powerless to stop someone from raping her. She is still going to feel violated and dirty. She will need comfort yes, but she will not want physical comfort. So using this trope as a way for the hero and heroine to come to a deeper romantic understanding, with kissing and cuddling involved, is completely inappropriate and insensitive. I’m going to say it again because I really want to make sure I get my point across: Rape is serious; rape is not just a plot point; if you use rape as just a plot point, I will stab you with a spork.
Another trope that gets used is the “rescuing the heroine from drowning” trope, which also makes me feel sufficiently icky. So our heroine, who is incompetent at most things—including swimming (surprise surprise!)—ends up in the water, drowning. How unfortunate. And this means our hero must showcase his brilliant swimming abilities and his strength. But, lo and behold, Little Miss is just a bit too heavy with that billowy dress she’s wearing, and our dashing hero has to cut most of it off her to keep her from dying.
Now, I get that this is a reasonably sound rescue tactic—I’m not arguing that point. My problem is with the motivation that seems to be behind this. It’s not appropriate, for a Christian novel, to have our hero undress the heroine under normal circumstances (gasp!), so instead we find a way for the hero to undress the heroine where it isn’t considered inappropriate. Except that it is, because invariably, the hero is going to narrate all the lovely details about her body as he saves her, like her curviness, her softness, etc. Gag me. My problem with this is that, if you want to introduce sexual tension to a story, then just be honest about it and do it. But don’t do it in underhanded ways because it’s still the same thing and it still has the same effect. And if you feel the need to be underhanded about it, what does that say about you? *points finger accusingly*
Unfortunate Messages. In another book I read, from a well-respected author, our heroine gets a horrible sunburn and, for comfort reasons, has to wear a tube top that makes her feel very immodest. The only point this scene has for the story is that now the hero gets to see more of her than she would ordinarily show. Consequently, he gets the chance to realize how sexy *cough cough* I mean, desirable she is. It doesn’t serve to further develop her character, or anyone else’s. It literally only happens to create more sexual tension. And, like the rape trope and the drowning trope, it also communicates the unfortunate idea that women aren’t attractive as potential partners unless they are showing more skin than they ordinarily would. Forget having a wonderful personality or great strength of character. It’s more important that Mr. Right finds you lust-worthy. Listen honey, you shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable to get a guy—just saying.
Poor Story-Telling. To have a good, sound story, your plot should read like a line of dominoes. When one domino falls, it knocks down another, which knocks down another, which knocks down another. It’s a chain reaction. Everything meshes together neatly, and it reflects the world more honestly—life is based on cause and effect, and every event has meaning. If you can remove a scene (like the above-mentioned tube top scene) without changing the outcome of the story, it means the writing is sloppy. This applies to the rape and drowning tropes as well—they are sloppy writing (in most cases) because they are usually used as short cuts for furthering emotional intimacy without having any more bearing on the plot. And if your romance hinges on a sketchy rescue or a show of skin, how strong is your romance really?
A Matter of Conscience. Quite often, the male love interest is a rather roguish individual who isn’t hugely concerned with conventions and the distinction between right and wrong. Consequently, this leads to situations where the heroine compromises her own morals. (He clasped her in his arms. She knew she shouldn’t let him take such liberties. It was inappropriate, and if anyone saw her now, they would be scandalized. They would think she was a loose woman, and her reputation would be ruined. But she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. Yada yada.)
This gets painted as an attractive thing—it’s hot for the roguish hero to make out with the heroine, even though she considers making out wrong, etc. Except this totally ignores a huge side of the issue. I’m not saying I think kissing is inappropriate, but I am saying that, when you feel like you are going against your conscience, even when you are not doing something expressly inappropriate, you are still damaging your conscience. And if you go against your conscience too many times, it becomes hardened. Which means I have a problem with stories that portray going against your conscience as attractive. Your conscience is what keeps you in line—it’s what clues you in to the boundaries you should not cross. Once it’s damaged, it doesn’t necessarily recover. And I’m rather disappointed that a lot of Christian literature implies that a good love story involves sneakily damaging your conscience.
Again, I’m not saying all Christian Romance falls into these traps. As with every genre, you are going to have your good eggs and your bad eggs. But I am saying that I have read far too many books like SWEPT TO SEA. Believe me, I could go on for another whole post about some of the other problems I have with Christian Romance (if you asked me to, I totally would—I might anyway). When it comes down to it, though, all of these issues are just symptoms of a deeper problem. Bottom line: As a Christian writer, if you can’t write romance without finding devious ways to toe the line and compromise your professed morals, then there’s something wrong with your understanding of God’s plan for love and marriage. (Yup, I’ve decided—I’m going to write a sequel to this post.)
What about you, little coffee beans? Do you have any problems with Christian Romance? Do you agree/disagree with me? Can you give me some examples of good, clean Christian Romance? Also, if you would like to read an alternate viewpoint, I direct you to Tessa's lovely post in favor of Christian Fiction.
