for Valentine’s Day

I wrote the following a week or so but saved it for today – which is good because I’ve spent the last two days in a group offsite meeting (plus socializing afterward with no internet connection.

The following are some of my favorite examples of love in literature – no particular order or genre, though the common theme is pretty obvious.

• Elizabeth and Darcy, in Austen’s Pride and Prejudice: Yeah, OK, this is the classic one. Plus, as this list shows, I tend to favor romances where the lovers stand up to each other as equals on some level (though here, not in terms of societal prestige or power) and this is pretty much the seminal example.
• James and Susan, in Emma Bull’s and Steven Brust’s Freedom and Necessity: Most romantic pairing ever, to my mind, which just shows I’m a total geek, less prone to swoon over a love letter that says “I want to be with you forever, I can’t live without you” than one that says “I respect your mind and am being very careful not to assert dominance over you. I am less of myself when not with you.” This is romantic? But it is.
• Frodo and Sam: Not a romantic relationship (though you can certainly argue subtext) and not at all one of equals, but Sam’s love for Frodo is the purest I can think of in fiction – and Frodo knows every bit of its value. Fictualities writes: “Power of the kind Sam wields is so devastating precisely because it isn’t tactical at all. It’s pure, stubborn, bull-headed love, as subtle as a fire alarm and five times as obnoxious” and that’s true, too. The funny thing is, for as fiercely as Frodo and Sam come to depend on each other, this is a far more unequal pairing than any of the romantic ones listed here – and yet, their needs in the partnership are perfectly complementary.
• Bran and Jane, in Susan Cooper’s Silver on the Tree: this one’s barely there, only some subtle hints at the end. I just like thinking of the potentialities of Arthur’s heir, with a woman he calls “Jenny” who’s not likely to go running off either with someone else or to a distant refuge when trouble hits. Too bad Silver on the Tree is so definite about the End of the Magic, because a fight against the Dark waged by a more grown-up Bran and Jane, with Will in the Merlin role and with the supporting ‘knights’ (Simon and Barney) bound to Jane rather than Bran could be more powerful than the original Dark is Rising series.
• Peter and Harriet, in Dorothy L. Sayers’ Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries: Another beautifully examined archetypal partnership – I think of them on a timeline with Darcy & Elizabeth and James & Susan, though where you place them depends on if you go in order of when the books were written or when they’re set. I love the consciousness of their fit together and of the respect built into it, and the way the characters as well as the author pay explicit attention to that fit.
• Peabody and Emerson, in Elizabeth Peters’ Amelia Peabody mysteries: This one’s just fun. The Mary Sue-ing is cheerfully over the top, so that it’s as gratifying and available to the reader as to the author – but the author’s an expert on the Egyptological background so it’s not ridiculous anachronism, either. The archaology is correct and there are tributes to Rider Haggard and other period writers within the series. Plus there’s the Ramses / Nefret pairing if you like romances with more angst. For a more modern romance that again plays cheerfully with a genre, there’s also Peters’ Vicky and John.
• Ben January and Rose, in Barbara Hambly’s A Free Man of Color and its sequels: In both her SF and msyteries, Barbara Hambly writes the opposite of Romeo and Juliet. She is very, very good at showing believable love between adults, who bear the scars life has inflicted on them. This series is my favorite of hers and the background is exquisite. I have a little trouble believing in Ben as ex-slave, expert surgeon and gifted musician, but no trouble at all in believing anything he thinks, feels, or says. It must have been hard coming up with a character who could match him in intellect (not hard at all to find one who could match him in amount of pain survived, in that itme and place), but she did.
• Valancy and Barney, in L.M. Montgomery’s The Blue Castle: Barney is one of LMM’s very few believable romantic heroes. Yeah OK, the marriage set-up is pure cliche and the ending is manipulated. What I like is the middle, where Valancy and Barney live together in daily life and find the incredible luxury (for both of them) of being able to be with another person and still be allowed to be themselves. It’s just so gratifying to see what a gift it is for both – and given how repressed Montgomery herself was in her real life, I think there’s probably a lot of wish fulfillment here for her.
• Tish & Ken, in Norma Johnston’s The Keeping Days and sequels: the most romantic and fulfilling books evar, when I was fourteen or so – so I was clearly a sucker for partinerships that were a meeting of minds very early on. I was pretty upset when the later sequels came out and they hadn’t ended up together, though there were at least strong hints they would eventually.
• Kit & Nita, in Diane Duane’s So You Want to Be a Wizard books: Again, for the partnershp and for their potentiality.
• Holmes & Russell, in Laurie R. King’s mary Russell mysteries: Because how do you write a real partner for Sherlock Holmes? Oh, that’s how. Yet again, a clear example of those whole partnershp thing – at least I’m consistent.