This post isn't about me - although I'm approaching the big "50" - and there's no Hawaii involved. This post is to express my joy that a whole new generation is falling in love with some of the romances that made me fall love with the genre enough to want to write my own stories. There's been a back list bonanza of late. I think it's hurt sales of newer authors - like me - but I think it's given a bunch of new readers a chance to find out the truth about "old school" romances.
Back in the earlier days of the genre authors weren't hemmed in by "should" and "shouldn't" and they weren't locked in the prison of propriety that cages us today. Those authors understood that a book was the place where rules didn't exist and the impossible became the imperative. Writers of early romance fearlessly took us into stories where tall, dark, handsome rogues who'd always gotten everything they wanted didn't see a reason why the new damsel should be any different. And if she didn't want him at first, well, he'd see that she wanted him a lot and very soon. Maybe he ripped her bodice -- but he didn't pull out whips and chains. No, the whips and chains in early romance were emotional rather than physical and they were never wielded by the hero - punishment and instruction were masterfully administered by the heroine.
Earlier writers realized that romance novels were the perfect places to turn dark, forbidden longings into the deep throbbing core of lust that would move the readers as it nourished the story so that it could grow and blossom and evolve. They knew that readers would watch the heroes' use of force the way we all slow down and gape at the scene of a car crash.
Readers would be horrified and aghast, but they'd also be engaged and sympathetic to the heroine's journey. They'd cheer for her as she fascinated the hero with her charm or her wit, they'd adore her as she grew to do more than enjoy the lust - she invited it. And they'd smile, laugh or even growl as she ground the man beneath a tidal wave of lust seeded with something so new and so foreign that he didn't recognize it. By the time the hero groveled for the affections of the woman he'd once forced, the readers had more than forgiven him - they adored him to0.
So, to the new generation of romance readers - I encourage you to cast aside your preconceptions and remember that a book is a make believe world where we can enjoy things we'd revile in daily life. In a book we can find a serial killer fascinating and we can delve deeply into the madness that motivates his mania. It doesn't mean we don't think real life killers should be locked away. It surely doesn't mean that when you encounter a serial killer you should invite him in for tea. When the squawkers squawk, you should keep your wits and your reason about you and remember - books are the safe place to explore many things you don't want to encounter in the hallway of your house.
And yes, Virginia, that includes force - even without the facade of S&M to make it politically permissible.