The follow up discussion to my post last week on “Bad Boy” Heroes got me to thinking that in general I don’t like stories where bad boy heroes are reformed by heroines who (in Stephanie’s apt description) are “pure as the driven snow.” A fascinating post by Pam Rosenthal on her blog and and the follow-up discussion got me thinking more along the same lines. Pam was writing about children in romance representing innocence, but the discussion touched on the redemptive arc often found in romantic fiction. I like redemptive arcs, but I much prefer it if the character redeems him or herself, rather than being magically healed by innocence and true love.
So in general I prefer “bad boys” or “bad girls” paired with a lover with some worldly wisdom. But execution can make me love all sorts of stories. Georgette Heyer’s Venetia is one my favorite love stories, despite the fact that it follows a trope I don’t generally care for–jaded, cynical rake tries to seduce and then falls in love with beautiful, sheltered, romantically untouched girl. Of course it helps that Venetia is five-and-twenty and hardly an innocent in her understanding of people whatever her life experience. I think the reason the story works so well for me is that one has a deep sense that Venetia and Dameral are “soul mates” despite their vastly differing life experiences. They share a sense of the absurd, as Stephanie pointed out. They share a love of literature, a disregard for society’s conventions, and a certain innate kindness. There’s a wonderful intimacy between them that’s only partly physical, though interestingly the intellectual intimacy makes the passion between them that much more palpable and intense. Their minds work in a similar way. Reading about them, you can sense that “click” that occurs between two people whose minds are in sync (which, to me, is as romantic as the rush of physical attraction).
That sort of connection combined with sexual attraction is a powerful combination. I like to think that Charles and Mélanie have that sort of mental click in the way their minds work, which is what gives me hope for them despite their differing backgrounds and to some extent differing goals. At least that’s how it is in my head–how well I’ve portrayed it is a different question :-).
A few other fictional couples who to me fit this definition of “soul mates” – Russell & Holmes, Mulder & Scully, Ingold and Gil in the Darwath books and Antryg and Joanna in the Windrose Chronicles (both by Barbara Hambly), Susan and James in Brust & Bull’s Freedom & Necessity, Beatrice & Benedick, Peter Wimsey & Harriet Vane.
How do you define “soul mates” in fiction? Do you like to read or write about characters with this sort of mental intimacy? Other favorite examples to suggest?
This week’s Fraser Correspondence addition is a letter from Raoul to Mélanie. Speaking of two other people with a mental connection which I don’t think will ever completely go away…
Tracy Grant - Novelist 
September 7, 2009 at 6:27 am
I have trouble believing that ‘click’ between the hero an heroine in novels; it’s usually easier for me to accept that two characters are ‘soul mates’ if the arc of their relationship is lifelong, such as Heathcliff and Cathy, or if they are already together when the novel opens, as with Percy and Marguerite. One takes a longer build-up, and the other none at all!
I recently read ‘The Greatest Knight’ and ‘The Scarlet Lion’ by Elizabeth Chadwick, about historical figure William Marshal and his wife Isobel. It takes two novels and countless children, but there is a convincing portrait of a marriage – she is a ward of court and he is ‘awarded’ her hand in marriage by the king, but by the time of his death, the reader has shared their whole relationship, including highs and lows, and the times together and apart.
September 7, 2009 at 8:21 am
I think it is hard to show with characters who’ve just met, Sarah, but to me at least in works in some of the stories I mentioned. Definitely in the opening chapter of “The Beekeeper’s Apprentice” (the first Russell & Holmes book) way before there’s anything overtly romantic. And there’s a wonderful scene in “Venetia” shortly after Venetia and Damerel have met when Venetia is thinking about having found a friend. It’s one of the loveliest descriptions I’ve ever read not just of falling in love but of finding someone with whom one has that “click” of a similar turn of mind.
September 7, 2009 at 8:42 am
I think my cynicism stems from the expectations of the author – when it’s obvious that two characters are going to be paired together, because they are the protagonists of a romance, then I tend to fight the inevitable. Anna Karenina is one example – I know the novel is about far more than Anna and Vronsky’s affair, but I resented being told how good and kind and sensual they both are, and how indulging their passion is the Right Thing because Anna deserves so much more and Vronsky is young and dashing. Their relationship isn’t all it’s made out to be, and neither is Vronsky, but I still didn’t feel that ‘click’ between them – Levin and Kitty were more convincing!
The ‘click’ for me, whether emotional or physical, is when two characters ‘belong’ to each other in a story – when it’s impossible to read one name without linking it to the other, or when the reader can’t help but will them together before the author gets around to pairing them off!
September 8, 2009 at 1:10 am
“There’s a wonderful intimacy between them that’s only partly physical, though interestingly the intellectual intimacy makes the passion between them that much more palpable and intense. Their minds work in a similar way.”
I only recently discovered Heyer, and that “click” is one of the things I’ve enjoyed in her books. The Talisman Ring definitely has it; the more interesting of the couples immediately sees that they share a deadpan sense of humor and a love of absurdity.
On the other hand, I also like Cotillion for the way it pairs up two equals–but there’s no “click”. The two are well matched in part because they *aren’t* particularly imaginative or humorous, and I was tickled to enjoy such a slow-growing relationship between two young dunderheads. I’ve experienced the thrill of the “click” moment, but Cotillion builds a strong case for a less flashy form of recognition.
September 8, 2009 at 3:13 am
Thanks so much for posting, RfP, and for the links to your great posts on discovering Heyer and Cotillion. I so agree, Heyer is great at writing the “click”–perhaps in her books so much of the romance is mental with the physical only hinted at (and yet as I said, some times all the stronger for it). A lot of 1930s romantic comedies are much the same.
Sarah and Tristram in “The Talisman Ring” are a great example of a couple with instant affinity. I think Sophy and Charles in “The Grand Sophy” have it as well, though that so much of that book takes place in subtext that it’s difficult for the reader to tease out who’s thinking/feeling what when (one of the things I love about it). I don’t think Charles Audley and Barbara in “An Infamous Army” (another of my favorite Heyers) have it precisely. Charles first falls in love with Barbara simply looking at her across a room. There is a clear in their banter, but, despite the fact that they become engaged early in the story, it’s more the story of two people discovering each other, for both good and ill. Loved reading your comments on it, btw! Particularly the ending, which fascinates me because it’s less than perfect and at the same time not depressing. Barbara features in my “bad girl” heroines blog a couple of weeks ago.
September 8, 2009 at 3:17 am
“The ‘click’ for me, whether emotional or physical, is when two characters ‘belong’ to each other in a story – when it’s impossible to read one name without linking it to the other, or when the reader can’t help but will them together before the author gets around to pairing them off!”
Brilliant definition, Sarah! I think when two characters have that you can see them as a couple long before any overt romance (sometimes I’ve seen it between characters in a book or television series whom the writers never do get together, much to my disappointment).
Regarding your comments about rebelling against the obvious pairing of two protagonists–I think that’s one reason some of my favorite love stories are romantic subplots in books in other genres. The romances seem less inevitable. There’s more risk it won’t work out, or they won’t get together at all, and somehow that can make it all the more satisfying when they do find each other, if that makes any sense.
September 10, 2009 at 1:48 am
Much as I love the click between characters, I love even more when the click leads the character, and even the reader, astray. The reveal that there is a “closer click” that is yet to come, or that the click is actually mere infatuation, which can happen just as easily with mental attraction as with physical passion.
It’s something I’m trying to do with my own book, but it’s also a feature of one of my favorite films, Bollywood’s Hal Ho Naa Ho (translates as Tomorrow May Not Come). Basically, it’s a Cyrano de Bergerac plot, where the Christian-character is the true love.
September 10, 2009 at 2:18 am
Hmm. That’s a fascinating idea, Cate. You’re right that sort of being mentally in sync doesn’t necessarily equal the foundation of a lasting relationship. But I think it would be a challenge to pull of as a writer because I think that sort of click tends to jump off the page and sway the reader. (On the other hand, I think Mel and Raoul have it in a way, and they don’t end up together…). I’m very curious to see how you pull it off! And I have no doubt you’re up to the challenge :-).