My Quibbles With Modern Romance Novels

by

Mackenzie Patel

Steamy kisses under the metal spiraling of the Eiffel Tower. The hilly, hippy town of San Francisco serving as a backdrop to a rekindled childhood romance. Dramatically locking lips on the soft lawn in a park in the Latin Quarter of Paris. These fragments of written memory are in several mainstream YA romance novels that have flooded the saturated book market for a few years. Yes, I guiltily contributed to this overdone (but so satisfying!) genre in my first book, but I also find these teen romance stories compelling at the same time.  What is it about the misconstrued love affair in Anna and the French Kiss that makes me read it over and over again, the sappy story about a sexy British guy and an innocent exchange student so refreshing and heart-breaking? Or why I do I always seek out one specific passage in The Truth About Forever, rolling those gut-wrenching words over my tongue and the recesses of my mind like melted caramel? I blush when I admit my closet obsession with romance novels, but a discussion about their passionate merits and clichéd downfalls has been on my “to-write” list for a while…

I already alluded to Anna and the French Kiss above, but this 372 page novel has ripped apart my good judgment with two sides of contention. On one hand, I find this novel vexing to the hilt because it is highlighted in nearly EVERY INSTAGRAM post of bookish personas. Situated painfully besides cups of undrunk coffee, flouncy tablecloths from Etsy, and other pretty novels about baseless romances, this book has been degraded to a mere “fad” in the book world. Social media has simply beautified the cover of Anna with a filter, not adding to the literary worth of its words at all. That being said, this passionate work, while not a classic by any means, is a colorful account of one girl’s trials in Paris and her stormy relationship with a British bookworm. Something about the overt tone of wanderlust, the tasty descriptions of French cooking, and the agonizing lust between the main characters reels me back into the newly pressed pages for at least one reread a year. I’m a sucker for foreign love stories that create powerful and relatable characters (while the plots are completely improbable, of course). Etienne St. Clair, the male protagonist with the obviously sexy hair, COULD exist in Paris, and in order to escape the mundane mien of high school, I devoured this book with unrealistic expectations for the underdeveloped males surrounding me. Stephanie Perkins clothed me in unreality, but isn’t that the purpose of a teen romance novel? Perkins is also the bestselling author of Lola and the Boy Next Door and Isla and the Happily Ever After.  Although they were hackneyed and lacked original content, the whimsical nature and idealistic relationships were satisfying for a teenage girl like me.

Arguably my gateway book into the world of YA novels, The Truth About Forever was published by Sarah Dessen in 2004. Reaching a feverish pitch of obsession with her novels during eighth grade, I quickly realized that all of her works were basically the same story but retold with slightly altered characters. A whippersnapper of a girl or boy, a lusty affair usually involving sex, and a satisfied ending with both parties making amends usually occur in a predictable succession. Despite the trite obviousness, The Truth About Forever always pops into thought a few times a year although I haven’t thumbed its pages for four years. Wes, the ruggedly sexy caterer, and Macy, the innocent flower with her life planned out for her, unsurprisingly get together in the end despite seemingly “insurmountable” obstacles. Wes was once in jail and is a troubled soul, Macy drags around a smart boyfriend for appearances…it’s so ridiculous and unlikely to ever happen in real life, but I secretly thought that it could. That is the chief quandary with romance novels these days: they delude girls into thinking that turbulent, complicated, and unhealthy relationships will eventually blossom into a Lothlórien-like bliss, the sun never abandoning the happy lovers for all eternity.  However, there is one passage in the work that soaks me with intrigue and happiness when I read it:

“Okay,” he said. He took a breath. “What would you do, if you could do anything?”

I took a step towards him, closing the space between us. “This,” I said. And then I kissed him.

Kissed him. There, in the middle of the street, as the world went on around us. Behind me, I knew Jason was still waiting for an explanation, my sister was still lecturing, and that angel still had her eyes skyward, waiting to fly. As for me, I was just trying to get it right, whatever that meant. But now I finally felt I was on my way. Everyone had a forever, but given a choice, this would be mine. The one that began in this moment, with Wes, in a kiss that took my breath away, then gave it back- leaving me astounded, amazed, and most of all, alive.

Finally, the last novel that’s continually sliced by a double edged sword is Just One Day by Gayle Forman. As the title implies, this novel basically only had one interesting scene for me which encompassed one thrilling and magical day in Paris. Those few chapters dappling in pure Europeaness were brilliant, especially the sensitive descriptions of the main characters (Allyson and Willem). Every touch, every hesitant and then longing look, every exhilarating conversation that makes one ache for intimacy…those parts were enjoyable to consume. Allyson is a high school graduate trekking throughout Europe with a teen tour group when Willem, a Dutch firebrand trying his luck with Shakespearean acting, catches her eye in Stratford-Upon-Avon. Relinquishing sweet and esoteric words from Twelfth Night was apparently Willem’s specialty, so much so that he convinced Allyson to run away with him to Paris the next day. Although this encounter was entirely unrealistic, the descriptions of Parisian cafes, the slinking Seine, and the antique Latin Quarter were enchanting. I was whisked away on a dreamy rendezvous that lasted ONE DAY. After those chapters were over, the rest of the novel was devoted to Allyson’s angsty troubles over a man she traveled to Paris with, had sex with, and promptly left the morning after because she thought he had callously abandoned her. The intrigue, while strong and robust in the beginning, fatally crashed a few chapters into Allyson’s normal (and to be honest, whiny) life. Willem, after the initial meeting, was shrouded in mystery and girly revulsion for the remaining of the novel, making it a tiring read. I would check out Anna and the French Kiss if you’re craving a satisfying, cheery story, but swipe a copy of Just One Day if teenage musings and realistic endings are the jelly to your peanut butter.