Save it for the finale: why less kissing is more romantic
In honor of St. Valentine’s Day, I’ll share my (book) romance secrets. :)
A few years ago, when I began re-reading some of my favorite Louisa May Alcott novels, I was struck by two things: 1) how masterfully the romantic tension is maintained, and 2) how little kissing goes on. I believe the second point is one of the key elements to achieving the first, but it’s not the only thing. Alcott doled out her physical contact sparingly. She understood, as only the masters did and do, how to play a glance or a touch to its full advantage.
The romance timelines in Alcott’s best romances look something like this:
Once the idea of romance has been suggested (because often, true to some of the sweetest romances in real life--ahem--the boy and girl have long been friends), you’ll see that first gaze “across a crowded room.” Tension surges. It means a lot when someone looks at you a little longer than you’d normally be comfortable with.
Finally, the attraction is acknowledged. The various levels of physical contact now vary by story. For the secondary characters, you’ll get a kiss now. BUT this means the tension is over--at least the romantic tension. You may still wonder whether the characters will end up together, but it will be some outside force (money, class, etc.) that stand in their way. For the primary characters, there’s still some waiting to be done. They get *this* close to kissing, yes, but something stops them. And--voila--more tension than ever. This moment of almost kissing is probably the most romantic tension you’ll ever see in a novel. Probably in life, too. It’s one of my favorite literary devices, because it allows a surge of hope without all the force that’s been pulling you along disappearing in a single smooch.
Thus my theory: less kissing = more romance.
You can back this up with some other statistics, in fact. For example, in all of Jane Austen’s swoon-worthy romantic novels, guess how many kisses there are? A grand total of 14. Across 6 novels, that makes for just over two kisses per novel--and keep in mind that these novels have more than one romance going on. Or how many kisses do you recall from L. M. Montgomery's books? Not many. You can chalk it up to a change in social norms and acceptability--but the truth is these books are classics because after over 100 years they still grab onto our hearts and hold tight. Whatever they did, it still works.
A few years ago, when I began re-reading some of my favorite Louisa May Alcott novels, I was struck by two things: 1) how masterfully the romantic tension is maintained, and 2) how little kissing goes on. I believe the second point is one of the key elements to achieving the first, but it’s not the only thing. Alcott doled out her physical contact sparingly. She understood, as only the masters did and do, how to play a glance or a touch to its full advantage.
The romance timelines in Alcott’s best romances look something like this:
Once the idea of romance has been suggested (because often, true to some of the sweetest romances in real life--ahem--the boy and girl have long been friends), you’ll see that first gaze “across a crowded room.” Tension surges. It means a lot when someone looks at you a little longer than you’d normally be comfortable with.
The romance develops...by suggestion. Nothing is said overtly, but suddenly a hand might brush against hair or be offered to help someone down from a carriage. Still so much tension. There’s that small chance that maybe that touch really was just a touch, so the characters--and readers--are left wondering, swirling back and forth between doubt and hope.
Finally, the attraction is acknowledged. The various levels of physical contact now vary by story. For the secondary characters, you’ll get a kiss now. BUT this means the tension is over--at least the romantic tension. You may still wonder whether the characters will end up together, but it will be some outside force (money, class, etc.) that stand in their way. For the primary characters, there’s still some waiting to be done. They get *this* close to kissing, yes, but something stops them. And--voila--more tension than ever. This moment of almost kissing is probably the most romantic tension you’ll ever see in a novel. Probably in life, too. It’s one of my favorite literary devices, because it allows a surge of hope without all the force that’s been pulling you along disappearing in a single smooch.
Thus my theory: less kissing = more romance.
You can back this up with some other statistics, in fact. For example, in all of Jane Austen’s swoon-worthy romantic novels, guess how many kisses there are? A grand total of 14. Across 6 novels, that makes for just over two kisses per novel--and keep in mind that these novels have more than one romance going on. Or how many kisses do you recall from L. M. Montgomery's books? Not many. You can chalk it up to a change in social norms and acceptability--but the truth is these books are classics because after over 100 years they still grab onto our hearts and hold tight. Whatever they did, it still works.
I’ll leave you with my favorite literary kiss, again from Louisa May Alcott (in An Old-fashioned Girl):
“Do you want to know the name of the girl I’ve loved for more than a year? Well, it’s Polly!” As he spoke, Tom stretched out his arms to her, with the sort of mute eloquence that cannot be resisted, and Polly went straight into them, without a word.
Never mind what happened for a little bit. Love scenes, if genuine, are indescribable; for to those who have enacted them, the most elaborate description seems tame, and to those who have not, the simplest picture seems overdone. So romancers had better let imagination paint for them that which is above all art, and leave the lovers to themselves during the happiest minutes of their lives.
(Okay, so I’m just presuming they kiss here, ‘cause that was where my imagination went. Either way, the tension is nicely wrapped up--as is fitting for the last few pages of a novel. :)
“Do you want to know the name of the girl I’ve loved for more than a year? Well, it’s Polly!” As he spoke, Tom stretched out his arms to her, with the sort of mute eloquence that cannot be resisted, and Polly went straight into them, without a word.
Never mind what happened for a little bit. Love scenes, if genuine, are indescribable; for to those who have enacted them, the most elaborate description seems tame, and to those who have not, the simplest picture seems overdone. So romancers had better let imagination paint for them that which is above all art, and leave the lovers to themselves during the happiest minutes of their lives.
(Okay, so I’m just presuming they kiss here, ‘cause that was where my imagination went. Either way, the tension is nicely wrapped up--as is fitting for the last few pages of a novel. :)
The key to romance is the waiting ... and when you can finally dissolve into the kiss, well, it's heavenly. So yes, less kissing = more tension. And this is why a married couple must kiss many times throughout the day. And hold hands too. Happy Valentines to you and Mark.
ReplyDeleteYou're very definitely onto something. Instant gratification can sap tension before it's even been able to build -- thus short-circuits some of the pleasure and sweetness.
ReplyDeleteAnd imagine! What kind of quick "happy ending" would Prince Eric and Ariel had have enjoyed if their lips had touched before those two evil eels hadn't upset the boat? Of course, in his original work Andersen arguably does a much better job than Disney in building tension without a kiss... but we don't need to ruin the mood of St. Valentine's Day with that!
ReplyDeleteGreat post, Faith! I hadn't thought about it this way, but it's so true. That's why the Austen novels work as they do. I've tended to hold off the kiss until the very end in my own work. Now I feel a little more justified. :)
ReplyDeleteSo true! So true!
ReplyDeleteOh, this is so, so true. Great post.
ReplyDeleteLove this post. You're so right that romance has very little to do with how much kissing you put into a book :)
ReplyDelete