Yes, it’s hard to believe, but the leading romance novel publisher is 60 years old this month.
The purveyor of pulp fiction has weathered storms of social upheaval, grown alongside women through empowerment movements, and continually found ways to balance realism, escapism, relevance and desire.
Says a thorough and compelling article on CBC, “Harlequin was an early master of brand identification, and the Harlequin romance is undeniably a commodity. At one point, some series were standardized at 192 pages per title, so they could be efficiently printed, packed, shipped and shelved. The company’s website, which courts writers as well as readers, spells out punishingly exact writers’ guidelines for each sub-genre. These rules specify not just manuscript length but also seemingly subjective matters like the qualities of the hero (”while he may be harsh and direct, he is never physically cruel”) and the heroine (”realistic, capable and as committed to love as she is to her career”). Some even give percentage breakdowns for the novel’s point of view (”60% heroine and 40% hero,” suggests one).
It’s a formula, but then, romantic love is formulaic. After 60 years, Harlequin knows that a kiss is still a kiss; a sigh is just a sigh. The novels have changed in their details, factoring in real-life issues like working mothers, single parents and even condom use. But they’ve kept the fundamental arc of relationships, from attraction to misunderstanding to the requisite happily-ever-after ending. And readers wouldn’t want it any other way”.
The Stamford Advocate has a fantastic, gem-laden column this week which gather together tons of useful advice and revealing anecdotes from real-world seniors. Well worth a complete read, but the snippet below provides the biggest takeaway:
“Good sex is for everyone, says a fiftysomething couple. Good sex helped this couple bond and break through the fear when he developed throat cancer a few years ago. They sometimes smoke a little pot, rediscovered from their youth, to enhance the experience (not for everyone, they acknowledge). They stay healthy and connected in mind and emotion.”
One of the funnest, bestest things about Mad Men-era mag ads is the narrative thrust to the sales pitches. It wasn’t enough to just show a smiling EveryGirl and throw up an evocative/emotive catchphrase.
No sirree! You needed to ’splain things with a proper setup. The formula changes a bit, but here’s the jist of it, illustrated by the ad below:
1.) Girl/woman is made to feel shameful about some totally natural and usually biologically determined feature, like her period or, in this case, her big hair.
2.) She expresses said shame to an expert, who recommends an appropriate space age remedy. Science to the rescue!
3.) Girl/woman returns to the scene of original shaming to find that she’s! now! socially! acceptable!
4.) Much older daddy figure squires her away.
What’s not explained here is that when Daddy finally carts Mrs. Hayhead to their makeshift newlybed (in this case, the very romantic backseat of the “Haywagon”) he’s rather shocked that her locks don’t hold their lustre very long.
Hey wait a minute! Doesn’t Mrs. Hayhead’s hair look just like it did before? Ohhhhhhhh.
I may never have witnessed Steve and Eydie’s onstage shtick, but I can attest to their outright adorableness. I mean, don’t these kids look, ahem, affectionate in this vintage Mad Men era photo for Life Magazine?
Lust abounds! We see it in the way their groins align in this near horizontal pose, the way Steve is nuzzling into her face and chest, and the way Eydie’s wide-grinned smirk seems to be inviting him to take her below deck.
That kind of chemistry is unfakeable; they’re still performing together after 49 years.
Yes, it’s hard to believe, but the leading romance novel publisher is 60 years old this month.
