Dear Man, do you think a Man can or should read romantic novels, especially those written by women? It seems from my experience that many men rather disdain things they perceive to be "feminine" or "for women," and if they do do those things, they're certainly not admitting it. Why do they feel that way and what is your opinion on it? --Curious Romance Reader
We all know what romantic novels are: stultifying tales of boring female matters--relationships, friendships, and unrealistic depictions of men as champions. But even a Man as certain of his answers as I am can surely open his mind long enough to slam it shut.
Yes, my readers--I, a Man, read a romantic novel. The novel in question was a modern book, published in 1879. It was entitled "Her World against a Lie: a Romance," and the author was Florence Marryat.
Men, having undertaken the reading of this novel myself, I beseech you: Do not under any circumstances read romantic novels.
You are far better off believing that women read romantic novels to sigh over unrealistically handsome, charming depictions of men. By all means, retain your innocence on this front. In fact, stop reading now, because I am about to describe the shocking heart of what lies in women's breasts.
This book starts off with the character Hephzibah Horton--an unmarried woman of some forty years who shows no wish to correct that state, and indeed, supports herself in style through her writing, and admonishes others with things like: "What else can you expect when you put yourself in the power of a man?"
Now, we are all familiar with the figure of the ludicrous, sad, embittered man-hater, gracing many the pages of a fine novel. But Miss Horton is not ridiculous, nor is she embittered; in fact, she makes the men around her look ridiculous. More importantly, the book itself--centering around the trials of one Mrs. Delia Moray--explains in great detail how women in bad situations (according to the book, almost all marriages)--can get free of them by making use of the legal system. It reads as half fiction/half guide for all oppressed women.
I had expected an optimistic, shiny tale wherein a woman was saved from certain disgrace by a man. Instead, I got a gritty tale of a woman beaten by a drunkard who was saved by other women.
In the end, Miss Horton does marry, as one expects of such a genre--but she retains her own name and chooses a husband she may henpeck.
Even I, an Actual Man, quailed before this romantic novel. All you lesser specimens out there might actually perish.
Men: Take my advice and avoid these at all costs.
Sincerely yours,Stephen ShaughnessyTraumatized Man
