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 Maxwell]

I have a very cynical mindset when it comes to love. "Argumentum ad populum" comes to mind.

(For those who do not know Latin, "argumentum ad populum" means "appeal to the people." It is a fallacious argument that concludes a proposition to be true because many or all people believe it.)

This was an interesting piece, but it did not shake my opinion that love does not exist.

[An owl on the moon]

Perhaps, my incredibly creative, enlightened friend, you must create your reality. You can let the world be as it is, dark and stark at times, sunny and bright in others, or you can go about making the world around you (within limitations) what you dream it should be... Your words here so powerfully suggest that romance novels (any novels) create another kind of world... Maybe, a world is just waiting for you to discover it, bring it to life as it were (Walden). Your world may be so much more viable than the tried and true so many simply settle for...

Craig

[Matthew M. Stewart]

If it is the romance novel that has helped ignite the flames of your imagination, then the romance novel ought to be commended. It seems as though you have truly done some soul searching of late - maybe from "Becoming Jane?" (excellent movie by the way!) Or perhaps from your recent excursions? In any case, well done! And continue begging the flowers to open - Enjoy the beauty whether the world looks with you or not!

[Kenneth Miles]

I have also read too many romance novels. I'm not ashamed that I've read them. I simply reorganize the situations to make it as if I am the main character and I'm chasing after a woman, instead of a woman chasing a male. This is to convince people I am not a homosexual.

Love to me is still a far-out idea. I've never experienced true love. I believe it exists, but again, I've never experienced it. I've had crushes and bouts of "puppy love," but nothing that has blown my mind like true love supposedly does. I admit, when I go out on a date, I think of the woman as a potential mate 'til death do us part, which is probably the last thing I should do if I am to find true love. True love means accepting a person for who they are, not making them conform to whatever your idea of the perfect mate is. Your true love could be drastically different from what you imagine.

So yeah, good write. :-)

[Leah Simone]

In love with the idea of love, romance novels are an addiction for those who refuse to believe true love is a fairy tale. You note how every great romance novel has a strong undercurrent of sorrow without which it wouldn't resonate so long . You know it is the bass- the low notes that carry their vibrations the farthest - that's why when someone has their subwoofer in their car cranking we can hear it and feel for what seems blocks and have no idea if any other instrument is being played during the song or not. As we age we begin to appreciate the beauty of the shadows, the smudges we cannot wash away that paint themselves under our eyes like bruises for seeing the world without innocence as a shield.

No, you can never read too many romance novels ...because as your lense becomes less filtered the tears become sweeter in a comforting familiar way. We only understand profound loss when we have loved profoundly and with this fragrance mixed with the magic --love truly is-- it becomes irresistable as the promise of forever.

Kara, I've read you again and again - the heartaches and joys and the woman you have bloomed into is a romance novel in and of itself.

[bailish]

"Lost to a world� which I am afraid may not exist." Aren't we all? If I'm not swept away into the world when I read the book, why would I continue reading?

[Lauren Amber]

I will admit that I rarely read anymore - lack of time, energy and passion flood my life. But just reading this piece you wrote makes me desire to read "too many romance novels"! I keep writing all these things for you, and then feeling I am not even worthy enough to comment after reading. I strive to write descriptively, as you do, yet still stay on said topic and evoke the same amount of emotion so the reader can read and feel what I felt.


Amazing work...

[Larissa G.]

Wow. I wish I could explore my own thoughts as well as this did. Well done, beautiful to read and true in every way.

[Wildfleour]

Excellent piece, Kara. I will agree with the others that you are a terrific writer!

[PianoandPage]

kara. a nice deep long hard look at yourself and how one particular genre has affected you. this is why i think people should always consider before they just lay down baseless judgements on things like "oh all romance novels are trash" - i'm reminded of a line from the wonderful movie "the fisher king" - robin williams' character when asked about romance novels being trashy replies "what's trashy about romance?"

exactly!

i think that love and romance titilate and torture. it's hard being open and vulnerable to beauty in a world that only cares about waistlines and what's on the tube.

you are obviously conflicted and who can blame ya?

i think we all search for our own happiness and sometimes our associations are misunderstood and can be painful reminders of how our attraction and/or expectations led us to hurt.