"I believe that I was a little bit in love with you."*

[alanajoli]

Since the royal wedding last week (and since finishing David Weber's By Schism Rent Asunder), I've been thinking about the phrase "falling in love." Usually we say the phrase in terms of a romantic relationship, but not always. After all, America can't fall in love with a new American Idol contestant or sports star romantically. (Individual viewers can, but America can't.) That phrase ("America fell in love") gets used frequently enough in the media -- whether it's about pop culture icons, political figures, or a social issue -- that it's come to have its own meaning.

A long while ago, I had a conversation with alpha-reader Arielle Kesweder, who has been a good pop culture reference for me for some time, about the word "heart" as a verb. I don't particularly care for it, but the evolution of language being what it is, no one bothered to ask me. She explained to me that "heart" as a verb means something different from "love" -- you don't really love someone you've never met, for example. But you can be involved with a character in a way that's very emotionally engaging, without any actual risk on your part. It's related to the "squee" factor, I think: say you meet an actor, or a writer, whose work you admire a great deal (or whose character you have a crush on). That encounter allows you proximity to the target of your admiration (and may induce a noisy "squee" when you share the story with friends, as you all shriek your delight). The intensity of the experience of your encounter with the target of your admiration deserves some sort of name -- but you can't really say you love the person you encountered. Instead, you "heart" them. Or, so I came to understand the case that she made.

I can't help but think, however, that "heart" as a verb is very similar to what America does when falling in love. And I myself often use the phrase "falling in love" to describe what happens to me with characters in books (in the most recent case, Cayleb and Sharleyan of the "Safehold" books). I'm not personally romantically involved, but I get warm fuzzies when thinking about the characters. As with a classic high school crush, I might get a big ol' grin on my face when they appear in a scene. My investment in them as characters is high -- but the only risk involved to me should something awful happen to them is a minor bit of heart-break. Because I'm an easy crier when it comes to books, if something awful transpires, I shall probably cry. And if it's appropriately dramatic, the scene may well stick with me for days on end (through what I've before referred to as a book-hangover, when a book continues to preoccupy me days after I've finished it).

That same kind of intensity of emotion, without the romantic inclination, happens with public figures we view as heroes (John F. Kennedy is someone who readily comes to mind as a person people "fell in love with" but didn't necessarily want in their beds). The intensity can happen in the opposite direction with our villains as well. In those cases, I think much of what people are involved with isn't the actual person, but rather what the person stands for in their minds. (Thus, sometimes there is rejoicing in death, not necessarily for the end of a life, but for the strength robbed from the symbol a person represents.)

But I think it can also happen with friendships, and this is where it gets hairy, because there are cultural assumptions about intense relationships -- and that these must involve romance. I remember my mother talking about how, when she was a young single woman, she argued with the older women at her church, saying that men and women could have friendships that didn't involve romance. I think we've come a long way in our cultural perceptions since the 70s as far as male-female friendships go, but that equation of intensity and romance often remains. I've been thinking about this as I'm crafting the characters for New Project; a male and female character, both heterosexual, have a very close relationship that probably leads the other characters (and likely the readers) to think they're romantically involved. But they're not, and they never have been. How can that relationship be depicted in such a way that readers will believe there's no sexual tension there, despite the intensity of emotional connection? It's something I'm puzzling out -- while also wondering how I can get people to fall in love with my characters. I'm already a little bit in love with them, of course, but I hope others will feel the same!

* Eponine to Marius, Victor Hugo's Les Miserables -- she, of course, is fooling no one, because "little bit" doesn't even begin to describe how in love with him she was. But I've always liked the quote.

Comments

[sartorias.livejournal.com]

Part of the problem I think is that so many people mistake falling in lust with falling in love.

[alanajoli.livejournal.com]

Oh, that's *very* true.

[vladimir barash (from livejournal.com)]

Very nice post! This is a great illustration of the way we as people build relationships with fiction. I myself am not a huge fan of the "heart" verb, mostly because I think it sounds silly, but you pointed out just the right role for it. Having recently read Pat Rothfuss' Kingkiller Chronicle (no spoilers, I promise), I heart Kvothe and Denna... and arguably had what you'd call a book-hangover after marathoning both books in the series in 3-4 days. So, very familiar feelings.

However, I think you point out a common thread to these attachments we form to literary and public heroes that is very different from real friendships we have with people we interact with on a frequent basis. There is a sense of distance, almost insurmountable distance, that I would argue colors our relationship with a fictional hero or with the President or whoever. This distance allows us to form an attachment to qualities, were we presented with them in person, we might not actually like all that much. We love to cheer on the hero, but if we had to put up with him or her on a daily basis, we might soon be muttering "what an insufferable jerk!" For that reason precisely I agree with you in that I don't think we could have the same sorts of relationships with our friends as we could have with fictional heroes.

However, that does not mean that friendships can't be intense and not romantic. I find myself blessed to be in some such relationships. Based on my limited, personal experience, such relationships can work when two people have an intense relationship, think it's romantic, and come to a mutual realization that it's not. Or, perhaps more subtly (and realistically) they find that the non-romantic component of their relationship is more valuable to them than the romantic one. This in itself is usually a big character growth moment (the characters' realizing that their relationship is different from a romantic one, and richer by that acknowledgment), though it doesn't have to happen on-screen. There are good examples from life I can draw on in personal conversations, though fewer examples from fiction - a clear indication that the topic is ripe for exploring :)

Shock and Awe?

[alanajoli.livejournal.com]

You know, I was thinking about that distance aspect before posting the main entry, but ended up cutting for time. I've been thinking about how often the intense relationships -- whether it's the relationship between a mentor and an apprentice, between two friends, or between romantic interests -- starts off with a great deal of awe. This is especially easy to see in the former and in the latter: it's very easy for an apprentice to idealize their mentor, or for a new lover to romanticize his partner. This happens less frequently with friendships, but it does happen: we meet someone new who strikes us as incredibly awesome!

As I've gotten older, the awe that sometimes strikes me when first forming a new relationship lasts a much shorter period of time. Perhaps I'm now wiser -- or just generally more disillusioned, and quicker to see the faults in others. I suspect it has something to do with experience, though -- the more experienced you get, the more you feel kinship with the mentor role rather than the apprentice role, and thus you find yourself offering your own life experiences for use by others rather than hanging on someone else's every word.

It could also be that I was just a very impressionable young woman, and now I'm a woman with neither of those qualifiers. :)

Speaking of the mentor/apprentice platonic relationship -- have you seen Middleman? It's the only series I can think of that's done a male/female mentor/apprentice relationship that hasn't involved romance. And since it's the only one -- you're right, it is ripe for exploring.

Re: Shock and Awe?

[vladimir barash (from livejournal.com)]

Good points! I can definitely relate to the awe period I feel when forming a new relationship. For me, that period has gotten shorter over time as well. In my humble opinion, this has less to do with finding faults in others and more to do with an even-temperedness that grows with age. Over time, we become more adept at accepting people as people, neither better than nor worse than us. But perhaps I am being too abstract and high-minded. My apologies :)

I have not seen Middleman! Sounds like it's worth checking out, for the relationship factor alone.

Good luck with New Project!

[m (from livejournal.com)]

I think even that is an oversimplification of the variety and complexity of relationships that people can have. You can have friends who to all appearances hate each other, people of vastly different genetic backgrounds who act like siblings without their "love" going beyond that of familial bonds, the <3 of hero worship or highschool crush, regular friendships, ardent love, lust, and more.

It gets even crazier when 2 or three or more of these emotions are all felt at the same time. Or even different times. Human interaction can sometimes be broken down into simple impulses and other times even the person acting doesn't really know what they are feeling.

When all's said, the only way to be sure is to lay it all out on the table and have the characters mention it one fashion or another, but then you may not wsh to be so accomodating.

[alanajoli.livejournal.com]

You're absolutely right about those complications -- human interactions are mind-bogglingly complex. A mentor of mine talks about people as whole universes unto themselves, which means that the areas where those universes intersect can be like orbits barely passing, or like whole star systems colliding (to stretch a metaphor).

Thinking about that two or three or more emotions at the same time is really useful, and I hadn't considered that aspect. That'll be really good to keep in mind. It's also helpful that my narrator is sort of omniscient in the New Project, so I may be able to lay it out on the table without doing so in the dialog, cluing readers in on what's going on before the characters know. We'll see how it works out.

[m (from livejournal.com)]

It's a lesson that can also carry over into everyday life. One of the many reasons people who refuse to communicate are so aggravating.