When I first looked at the title of Jane Stanley’s article, “Practicing for Romance: Adolescent Girls Read the Romance Novel,” I initially thought her focus would be on the traditional Georgette Heyer, Johanna Lindsey, LaVryle Spencer “bodice-ripping” type of book.
On a personal note, during exam study weeks in high school and middle school, my girlfriends and I would skim through the pages of classic, historical romances in search of any passage that contained the words, “Oh, God.” We would then read the over-the-top and deeply unrealistic sex scenes---which were invariably replete with a longhaired, broad chested and incredibly muscular hero—laugh like hyenas, and then go back to studying. It was a great stress reliever and provided something of a change to the books we normally read with great voracity, including historical and contemporary memoirs, the Gothic novel, Victorian and Edwardian literature, bio and autobiography, drama, mysteries, and thrillers.
Upon closer inspection of Stanley’s chapter, however, I saw that she referred to books such as Conklin’s P.S. I Love You and Francine Pascal’s Sweet Valley High Series, works that could easily be crossed categorized as tween fiction or tween “chick-lit,” but not necessarily romance in the truest sense of the genre. In her chapter, Stanley laments the fact that many adolescent girls---a number of whom are already reluctant readers---have such an affinity for teen romance novels. In her words, “these novels teach girls to put boys’ interests above their own, and that, by and large, they show only the lives of white suburban middle-class families. In fact, in all this middle-class abundance the only thing impoverished is the range of options available to the female protagonists in these stories” (Stanley, 2008, pgs. 169-70).
The main issue Stanley has with teen romance fiction is that it is potentially damaging to girls’ sense of self and self worth in the absence of a man, appeals to the “lowest common denominator of reader,” and “instructs girls that the quest for romance is in and of itself a career” (2008, pgs. 170-71).
Though Stanley’s chapter was certainly engaging, there were a number of factors absent from her argument. Though she does discuss the findings of two separate studies and states that the reading of romance fiction for one group of girls is “an important component in the…construction of gendered identity” (2008, pg. 172), she does not mention the plethora of other contemporary cultural factors that influence identity well before girls are choosing their own reading material. Such factors include film, television, pop music, and music videos, all of which illustrate and promote overt gender roles. Furthermore, though Stanley does refer to this in passing, parents play an extremely important role in the type of reader their children grow up to become. Any child who is read to and read to regularly and exposed to a variety of literary genres will very likely become an avid and wide-ranging reader. Stanley mentions the fact that a significant number of girls who were studied by Christian-Smith were particularly devoted to romance literature because “their mothers were avid romance readers” (2008, pg. 174). With this in mind, whenever one looks at literacy patterns in students, the role of parents (in addition to schools) must be acknowledged and, perhaps, more included in academic argument.
Stanley did not really explore the cognitive, and behavioral development levels of her study subject, that is the female adolescent. As a teacher of middle school age children, I have had a tremendous amount of experience with this age group and know that, at 11 and 12 years of age, girls are just beginning to become interested in the opposite sex after years of finding them “gross.” The same can be said of adolescent boys regarding girls. At this age, girls are naturally becoming interested in romance fiction, but in my experience, they are highly, highly open and interested in other literary genres----particularly if they have access to teachers who are voracious readers, knowledgeable about young adult literature, and know how to “sell” a book to kids, be it fiction or non-fiction.
I felt that Stanley inadvertently did not give adolescent girls their due credit. Just because a child reads something does not mean that s/he takes it at face value and lacks an ability to be discerning about the believability of a text. Children know when to “take the best and leave the rest” when a situation calls for it, and reading romance novels is no exception.
In both of the studies that Stanley mentions, teachers are described as “giving in” to student desires to read romance, despite the fact that this subverted their delivery of “pedagogized literacy” (2008, pg. 170) In reading this, I couldn’t help but think of Gloria Ladson-Billings in The Skin We Speak, and her anger over the fact that so many teachers unknowingly give kids “permission to fail” by not acting more pro-actively in challenging teaching situations (Ladson-Billings, 2008, Kindle Edition).
How is it that none of the teachers mentioned in Stanley’s article saw reluctant readers’ interest in romance novels as a wonderful thing and a rare opportunity for a tremendous teachable moment?
In her chapter ‘No Kinda Sense,’ Lisa Delpit talks about the great deal of time she spent in a middle school that is 98% black. After observing students and noticing how interested they were in hair care, Delpit saw a need for an effective, cross-curricular unit on African American hair. She saw an opening for a teachable moment and then designed a full-unit based on student interest. In her words, “the object is not to lower standards or just teach what is interesting to the students, but to find the students’ interests and build an academic program around them” (Delpit, 2008, Kindle Edition).
In the case of the studies Stanley presents, all teachers involved could have viewed student interest in romance as an opportunity to teach an entire unit on the romance novel, one designed to appeal to both boys and girls. The unit could begin with a history of the romance novel, discuss the importance of setting using film excerpts and photographs, cover different examples of romance novels through the ages, including books by Jane Austen and the Brontes, have students write and act out their own romance scripts and perhaps do a class parody of the genre, and end with a reading of a modern, paranormal romance, such as the Twilight series. Throughout this unit, teachers could guide students in analyzing and critiquing the romance genre, talk about the stereotypes that exist, and explore ways in which characters could be improved upon. The teaching possibilities really are endless.
In contrast and in closing, in his article ‘From Video Games, Learning About Learning,’ James Gee discusses his foray into a world he had previously known nothing about, that of the video game. Gee was officially introduced to the video game after witnessing his four-year-old son playing on numerous occasions. Though, like teen romance fiction, the video game has also been criticized for its negative factors, including gratuitous violence and lack of intellectual value, Gee presents the video game in a positive light and presents his readers with its educational merits. In his words, he had a “revelation,” and concluded that video games “require the player to learn and think in ways in which [he] is not adept” (Gee, 2003). Gee goes on to say that he found the experience of playing his son’s game “life-enhancing” and an eye (and mind) opening experience.
Can the same not be said for the teen romance novel in the classroom? If taught and presented correctly, the reading of the romance novel can also be a mind and eye-opening experience, one that exposes students to the history and make-up behind one of the biggest literary genres on the market today. The opportunity is there. The moment just has to be seized.
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