The way that people think of Valentine’s Day runs the gamut. People love it, people hate it, and some people are just plain apathetic. The UPNG office is not covered in little pink and white tissue paper hearts; however, we wanted to celebrate Valentine’s Day in our own special way – with a special Love-themed blog posting. I asked the members of our staff to come up with their favorite Literary Love stories. Being the creative crew we are, most of us took this prompt and went haywire with it. Below are the responses to the question “What is your favorite Literary Love story?” After reading our responses, let us know your favorite literary love story in the comments!
Melanie Jeanty, Student Worker:
“My favorite literary love story (even though it is a little cliché) is the Notebook by Nicholas Sparks. The Romeo and Juliet theme keeps it tied to history joined with a twist of Sparks’ own talented writing. This story builds the idea of the type of man any woman would want; a man who would be willing to take any measures in order to be able to have the woman he wants. Noah, the main character does not only love Allie, but loves her unconditionally, even until the years of old age. This story demonstrates the type of love that every woman searches for. This story is about life, love, and pursuing happiness submitting to the fictional idea that love conquers all.”
B.J. Robinson, Director:
“[My favorite] is a real life love story: Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning’s. Their love story is my favorite “literary” love story because Robert Browning fell in love with Elizabeth Barrett before he ever even met her by reading her poetry. It suggests the deep insights to one’s core being that literature allows (that writing is one of the few ways for us to get ‘out’ to others what we have inside of us). Robert Browning had insight into Elizabeth Barrett’s core being…”
Miriam Rainwater, Marketing Intern:
“As a children’s book lover, I thought I’d take a different spin on choosing my favorite love story. My favorite is Guess How Much I Love You written by Sam McBratney and illustrated by Anita Jeram. It is a picture book from Candlewick (my favorite childrens’ publisher) that explores the love between a parent and a child. The characters (who are bunnies) converse about the ways that they love each other, outdoing the other on the ways they love until they are loving each other “to the moon and back.” I am personally not a fan of Valentine’s Day because I think that it promotes commercialism and often forgets the true sense of love that should permeate the holiday and every other day of our lives. Guess How Much I Love You gathers the oft-forgotten, simple, unashamed, self-less love and expresses beautifully the meaning behind a typically over-hyped holiday.”
April Loebick, Managing Editor:
“Jane Austen is always fun to read when talking about Literary Love stories, but I have to admit that I do not like Mr. Darcy, so his and Elizabeth’s relationship is far from my favorite. I much prefer Emma and Mr. Knightley simply because of their never-ending snark and play. Plus they’re really good friends, which is essential to a relationship. Honestly, they remind me of me and my husband.”
Last, but not least, is Matt Pardue’s response. He liked the idea so much that he ran with it and wound up with a Treatise with quotes and everything. Behold!
Matt Pardue, Assistant Editor:
“ ‘Why does a love-interest subplot have to be shoehorned into everything? Imagine if there was some kind of parallel universe where every game and movie regardless of genre was required to incorporate at least one line dancing competition. You’d think they were all raving lunatics…’–Ben “Yahtzee” Croshaw, Zero Punctuation: Silent Hill: Homecoming
“I’m a bit jaded when it comes to love stories, after having stumbled across them in almost every narrative I’ve ever watched, read, or played through, without fail. I understand that romance is a big part of life for most people, but still, it becomes laughably ridiculous when you take a step back and think about it. The next edition of Tetris could devote a huge chunk of gameplay to the tale of Long Block and Square Block reenacting Romeo and Juliet, and at this point I wouldn’t be too surprised. That said, if handled properly, these sorts of subplots can add to the story, or just offer entertainment value. I think writers should handle them primarily in one of two ways:“The romance can be a central part of the plot. Maybe romance is the whole plot, depending on the genre. If not, it can still move the characters, show more about their personalities and motivations, and provide a driving force for the story. The first example that comes to mind is Fuchsia and Criminy, from the webcomic Sinfest (as my managing editor put it, “Literature with a little ‘l,’” although it occasionally aims for higher ambitions). Their non-sexual-but-intimate relationship is what I can only describe as adorable, so the subplot has that going for it. More to the point, their interactions have pushed both characters to evolve. Criminy, despite still looking like a ten-year-old boy thanks to the art style, has started to lose his signature (and crippling) shyness; although he continues to spend much of his time reading under a tree, it’s more for enjoyment than a need to hide from the world. Fuchsia, a demon employed to torture damned souls (it’s less grim and graphic than it sounds), has regained much of her compassion and sense of self-worth. It’s what a relationship should be: both characters help one another to move past their faults, to become more balanced and happy with who they are. And they’ll probably end up squaring off against the Devil at some point, likely with machine guns. Have a look at the webcomic, so long as you can laugh at your own beliefs (because at some point, the artist is bound to poke at them a bit).
“Alternatively, romance can be in the background. You can see that the characters are involved, but it doesn’t influence the story much. Neither character grows from interacting with their partner; one of them might even hardly ever appear on screen. Terry Pratchett handles this sort of thing pretty well with Sam Vimes and Lady Sybil, as part of the larger Discworld over-series. The relationship has its share of traditional roles, I suppose (which might not bother many readers), but regardless of gender values, the two characters do their own thing for most of their books. Their involvement with one another only changes them in small ways; Sam doesn’t start attending high-society events (willingly or capably, anyway), and Sybil doesn’t stop raising dragons to join the city watch. “These two are married,” the books seem to say. “How nice for them. Now back to the plot.”
“When I see bad literary romance, it’s usually because the author tried to mix the two good options. Romantic interests try to squeeze into the plot beside the main characters but don’t have any other motivation for being there, or a way to contribute to the story aside from hugs and kisses. The love stories seem forced. Two or more characters come together not because they have real connections, but because they’re all in the book and the writer wants to fill the relationship quota. Romance takes up substantial space, repeatedly factors into character motivation, yet fails to prompt growth. All these things push me out of a story. Write intimate subplots if you like, but either make them matter, or let them act as decoration for the setting. Going only halfway just leaves readers dissatisfied.”
