“I think I’ll be controversial today.”
That was the headline that caught my eye the other day when I googled “meatier historical romances.” (Don't worry--I eventually get around to the subject in the title.) Turns out I’m not the only one craving them, for this was an entry by one “Emery,” dated July 13, 2010 on Goodreads. Judging by the slew of pile-on responses he/she received—the last one dated June 13, 2014 (and my own Oct. 2019 search), I’d say the problem is an on-going one for the industry.
I have no idea if Emery is still around, still holds the same opinion, or is still happily reading many of the titles suggested by his/her respondents, but I’m crossing my fingers that I'm not offending anyone by quoting Emery's kick-off entry. For me, it's still true.
"Don't take this as prudish, as I much enjoy well written sensuality, but I find I have tired of many of the so-called "historical" romances that contain only enough plot to string together the sex scenes.
"My few notable exceptions are works from authors who build a story on a strong historical foundation and those who use unusual settings and flawed characters.
"This was a great part of my motive in starting this group- to seek out these authors and works, and to create a reading list of truly historical romances for the "thinking woman." " Perhaps this remark will put me in hot water. "Your thoughts on the matter?
As someone who’s late to everything societal, from fashion trends to existential angst, I’m sorry I missed this particular communication string. (I’ve been away. Not in prison, just knee-deep in another life.) Luckily, many of Emery’s respondents had recommendations to share, so I have a nice reading list ahead of me for a bit.
One thing I found particularly interesting when looking up these titles on Amazon was the label, “Rediscovered Classics.” That’s when I noted the date stamp “2010” on Emery’s first entry. While many of today’s “historical” romances are eaten and forgotten like candy*, good stories clearly last and are still profitable.
*I’ve often compared Regencies to “bonbons,” but that in no way disparages this delightful subgenre---some with more story on their bones than many of the straight “historical” romances out there.
NOTE: I very much hope the category of "romance" becomes thoroughly absorbed into and replaced by the more general "women's fiction." I'm weary of the smirks, sneers and jeers the former label continues to receive. I'd say 'get over it, people,' but realize I may be preaching to the choir.
And here’s where my shameless self-promotion comes in—I write what I love; and what I love is history, characters with contradictions (you know, like “real” people), hot sex scenes, and complex love stories that stick in my head long after their happy ending.
While there’s a good bit of Baltimore history in my first book, Matters of the Heart, I’ll admit it’s thinner than my research would indicate, the characters more “stock” than not—although the hero 'at least' has a drinking problem. (Tacchere’s a sentence I never expected to write.)
My second book, Camelot Jones, is a pure romp in many ways, so it deliberately avoids the depth that would weigh it down. Nonetheless, the accurate historical details are still there.
My next historicals (ready for self-publication once I get all the gears lined up and in place) is the product of many years of research: of the southern states’ depression during Reconstruction; railroad history that either dragged Midwestern development in its wake or showed up in response to it; and most importantly, the history of gambling, from lotteries to dice to cards, the cheats and scams, and how it stitched this country together as surely as the railroads.
Gambling is as much a part of American life as apple pie. All you have to do is listen to our language to understand how pervasively it seeped in and shaped us: “you bet,” “call him on that,” “ante up,” “raise the stakes,” “if you play your cards right,” even just “take a chance.”
True, gambling was (and still is in some places) part of the seedier side of life, but its underlying, risk-taking urge is what builds a nation (as one of my characters points out—the very real Simone Jules, aka Eleanor Dumont, known later in life by the unkind sobriquet “Madame Mustache”).
Women gamblers like Ms. Jules were unique and colorful, with very few living glamorous lives; and even when they were able to manage some glamor, they didn’t do it for long. The loves and lives of these women were anything but traditional, which is why I found them fascinating—enough so to write this work of fiction.
Of course, I’ll let you know here when this third book hits first Kindle, then print.
And Emery--if you're still around--thank you!
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