These many things that Love Between the Covers’ documentarian, Laurie Kahn, says are true: First, romance novels bring in a respectable proportion of the publishing industry’s revenue. Second, they are not especially more ‘formulaic’ nor are they quantifiably sillier than many other genres — the one variable that really sets it apart is the fact that it is an almost exclusively female industry in its producers and consumers. But all of the power gained from affirming female desire and making good money per Kahn’s argument is fraught with the perennial underlying problems faced by women, regardless of how happy a face they put on.
This is not a criticism of the film itself, which gamely gives a full and inclusive portrait of the production of romance novels. Kahn profiles a variety of figures including Mary Bly, the daughter of poet Robert Bly, Beverly Jenkins, a pioneer of African-American romance novels, and Len Barot, who writes in the growing LGBTQ sub-genre. The women convincingly and, at times, movingly argue how important it is to see not only female desire, but a desire that matches their own experiences represented on the page.
The documentary also examines the permeable membrane between author and writer — a major feature of the industry — not just in the intimate fandom, but also in the ease with which the avid reader becomes a writer. It would appear to be a dream job. The prevailing refrain of the interviewees is that they make good money, put bread on the table, keep the lights on. But even as you want to cheer along, you start realizing that this is another example of women taking on an extra full-time job, working punitive hours, and suffering derision while they do it. And how many would-be authors fail in this chorus of positivity? Kahn seems satisfied that the content of the books produced project a powerful female stance, but how much weight can we give this when their conditions of production are so dismal?
To be a woman has historically meant to do uncompensated labor and be belittled for it, and the climate of the publishing industry appears to play right into this. Even while the documentary tries to stay positive and project a message of female empowerment, we see that authors are increasingly expected to write their own editorial copy, design their own covers, churn out novels at an ever-increasing pace, and even teach seminars for free. Masked in a message of inclusivity, this is another story of women being poorly compensated for a draining job and working hours far outside of a lawful work week.
The documentary, like romance novels, is a more aspirational than it is sober. Kahn tries for a HEA (the industry term for “happily ever after”) but here’s hoping this documentary makes the average watcher angrier than they are satisfied. Instead of the tacked on HEA, let’s take another cue from romance novels — want more, want it all.
