An Infliction of the Heart

 

I have read far too many romance novels.

I’m in the middle of watching Becoming Jane and it’s literally killing me. I feel my heart ache, and in the midst of a million different thoughts and emotions, that one keeps repeating:

I have read far too many romance novels.

It all started with Pride and Prejudice… or perhaps even as far back as Little Women. I read that book about ten times in only a couple years. And by the time Pride and Prejudice and Jane Eyre entered my life, I was lost. Lost to a world… which I am afraid may not exist. Caught up in clandestine, windswept moments that perhaps are not truly of this world.

However, in my life I have felt the tightening of moments – I have felt the air become taut and my heart cease to beat, lost in a moment where all that mattered was his breath against my ear and his fingertips grazing my palm. So in this way, I understand that the romance novel can be real. I have experienced passion that would in fact put the romance novel to shame, and yet…

The book always ends. The chapters close before we can truly feel the pain, the heartbreak. Life is indeed not a book, and therefore the pain is almost unbearable… for nothing has truly prepared us for it.

And what good are the romance novel moments… I take that back. The romance novel moments are everything… but then again, do I only feel this way because

I have read far too many romance novels?

Then again, there are people who have never touched a romance novel, and are completely swept up in the concept of love, as well. And LOVE – love, well that is an entirely different thing in itself. If love is the embodiment of the romance novel, then no wonder our hearts get broken when it doesn’t end on page three hundred with a cute little epilogue by the fire with the children on our laps and the kittens by the hearth.

Then again, if love is more practical than that, perhaps it is not something I want.

People stop their entire lives for love – or whatever concept of love they have developed. People drop out of school, abandon dreams, turn against their families, alter their souls… just to be in love. Simply TO BE with the person they love, and who hopefully... God willing... loves them back.

I cannot judge them. I am not allowed to point my finger at them, since I have done such things myself. I have stayed in unhealthy, even abusive, situations, because of love – because the romance novel trapped me in stolen embraces and windswept moments. A young boy traveled down a stream with me, and held my hand in the stolen secrets of the night, and I was lost to him. For over four years, I begged for that romance novel to end on page three hundred, and when it never did… when instead I received the repetitive devastation of the heart… well, I hardly knew how to handle it.

I didn’t read a romance novel for years.

Yet here I am, watching a stupid movie about Jane Austen, and everything is coming back to me. All the feelings, all the dreams. It was the romance novel that awakened me – it was the stupid romance novel that gave me reasons to live. And yes, it was the stupid romance novel that led to my broken, broken heart…

I am reminded again of my father’s words – “return to reality.” And yet, this trip these past few months has truly shown me that reality can mean a million different things – and that, yes, we are certainly in control of what our reality is and becomes.

In that case, I propose that the romance novel can indeed be real.

More recently, I have considered the idea that perhaps I am not meant to marry, or even to join my life with someone else. Perhaps my energies would be more aptly utilized in other realms… with writing, or charity, or counseling, or teaching.

However, tonight I am reminded of how catastrophically important the romance novel has always been to me.

I am scared to feel the power of the romance novel again. There, I have admitted it. I am terrified of feeling my heart awaken once more. When I feel it stir, even if only from the lines of a poem or the quote of a novel, I become paralyzed with fear. I do anything to temper the flames, and maintain indifference. People have previously criticized me for loving too much, caring too much, throwing myself too recklessly into the sunshine…

I am still reckless, but no longer with my heart.

So what is important? What truly matters in this life? Writing this has brought me no closer to the answers to such questions. Rather, I still feel a tight constriction in my chest, a labour to my breath. Tonight I have been reminded of thoughts and feelings I have had since I was very young… qualities of myself that have led me to be the person I am today. These are the same qualities that have inspired me to put a pen to paper, my eye to the lens, my presence on the stage… it is the very inspiration inside me. And yet is this desperate quest for Beauty and Authenticity which most of the time leaves me burdened, begging for something more from this life. It is as though I am begging for the flowers to open, and share with the world what I see beneath their petals.

And yet, the flowers will not listen, and even if they did, the world would not look.

 

Again, I have read far too many romance novels.

 

Reviews

[Moi]

One 'ought never give up on a good romanza whether in life, or in a book. The romantic movement, curiously, was defined by including the impossible into fiction: fairies, talking frogs, and fountains of youth among other things. Strange how a movement known for the impossible now titles those who believe in love; the romantics.

Love isn't impossible; those beautiful windswept moments you detail (very nicely and with tact) do exist.

If one has the desire, why not bring it to reality? Easier said than done, I know, but it's possible for anyone, based on the choices they make, to have a love-life that could make Austen's novels green with envy.

[Michael]

I have seen adaptations of romance novels and so you would think even I have gotten the taste of some distortion of romance novels in my mind. it is rare if ever should this perceived reality that's called life should cross over into a place where all the things we read in books actually happen, maybe we want to believe, maybe we want it to be true, but somewhere inside, we fear in the possibility of believing its not.

so is it that we are chasing the myths, the sleeping beauties and prince charmings, or is there something more to it than that... don't really know either... somehow its part of being means not knowing even when we can glimmer some of why we feel or think like we do... so we wait even as we appear to go on...

[Jason Young]

Absolutely gorgeous, and wonderfully philosophical. You cut to the root of love and tender emotions. Although the honesty of your self-evaluation bites and leaves deep gashes, it is a light of sorts. In the self-doubt and angst, I can find the sweet hope that you cling onto, despite your so-called disillusion. Despite your saying that you cannot trust yourself to hope, I see that you do hope.

My deepest regards to you and your works. They are exceedingly fine, and I hope to indulge myself in more in the future.

[matthew henry]

Interesting. You may consider putting another character or two into this, using snipts, dialogue, or something to break up the monologue and give the story depth.

[Evil_Angel]

I loved this I can definitely relate. I've seen and read all those movies and books you talked about, ( I love Becoming Jane), and I kind of have to disagree. I think romance is real, and Pride and Prejudice is based on Jane Austins life...well sorta, although at the same time I think she writes idealistically how she wants it to be. Its true life is not like the movies, but if you truly find someone you love it's even better than you can imagine, because its real. I'm sure you'll find it one day and know what I'm talking about. Anyway great job this made a very good point!

[Gillzy]

I can relate to this completely. I don't think I'll ever be happy in life, because life does not live up to the standards in Musical. No man will ever sing to me a top an elephant, nor will Glinda, the good fairy, be there to guide the safe way, nor will Nancy risk her life to see that I am happy, nor will I have a stolen love for a man so broken he'll burn down an opera house just so that he can have me. I too long for and idolize the dramatic/sad/exciting/romantic world that always has a happy ending.

Will we survive? I hope so.

Wonderful piece, honest and almost heart-wrenching. Sympathy makes me love your work more.
Yours,
Gillian x

[John Moran]

"More recently, I have considered the idea that perhaps I am not meant to marry, or even to join my life with someone else. Perhaps my energies would be more aptly utilized in other realms� with writing, or charity, or counseling, or teaching."

I cannot begin to tell you how many times I've felt the same way.

This was a splendid read, and it makes you think, and I enjoy thinking, so this piece is spot-on. Keep your chin up. You'll find him one day. I'm just worried that I may never find her�

[eric mccarthy]

i loved this. i think i'm falling in love with being in love. whenever i see a pretty girl, my heart goes nuts and i say to myself, 'that's the one i'm going to marry someday.' then i don't say a word to her because i'm too shy. ain't that somethin'?

i've read romance novels before. yup. and i'm not gay!

solid piece of writing. i enjoyed reading your thoughts...

[Jonathan Burns]

Love is something one has to work for, in my opinion. I do not believe it is dropped in your lap like a newspaper. You must put aside your preconceived ideas of what the perfect lover is and open your mind to whoever comes your way. The person you end up loving is usually different from who you first imagine yourself loving. Those are my thoughts on the subject.

This was a fine little article. It certainly got me thinking.

[Samuel Dickens]

In this piece of writing you have here, you have touched a great many of my own sensitivities. I do not read the romance novel, and never have, yet I am either flame, oxygen or fuel when the other elements come near.
My words are probably inadequate to explain, but I understand how you put romance aside and out of mind because it holds such sway over you. A person I know has been married for many years, but without a sign, a miniscule speck of romance. How easy it would be for that person to be swept into a relationship! One so vulnerable shouldn't even allow him/her self to come near it, lest it sieze them.
Not only your keen writing skills, but your passionate heart is on full display in this piece. Thank you.

[Robert Clapp]

it is my goal in life to find true love. maybe it's silly but i think love is the only thing that keeps you goin' during hard times. if you're dealing with hard times and you're alone you feel like it's the end of everything, but if you got a lover by your side you got some glimmer of hope.

good write.

(you're pretty, by the way. and i just noticed i wrote "true silly" and not "true love." corrected. i'm such a doof.)