It seemed appropriate, in the week of St Valentine’s Day, to write something about romance, so I thought I would talk about my recent experiences with reading what are known as M/M romances – male to male romances.
As a boy, I was introduced to books by my mother, who encouraged me very strongly to read regularly and constantly. It is one of the many things for which I have to thank her.
[OK: pause for favourite mother joke, regularly seen in graffiti: first person says “My mother made me a homosexual; second person replies “If I get her the wool, will she make me one too?” End of very old joke, but it still makes me smile.]
Regular visits to the local library at Crystal Palace in South London were the norm, firstly to the junior section and then – at what I now realise was a surprisingly young age – to the adult section.
Through this habit of reading, and mum’s recommendations, I discovered many authors – some of which remain favourites today, such as Howard Spring, Nevil Shute, C P Snow and A J Cronin. I read Margaret Marshall's civil war epic Gone with the Wind twice as a boy – well before I ever saw the film.
American medical romances were also a favourite with mum, and I remember reading several books by the wonderfully named Frank G Slaughter – I always thought this was so amazingly inappropriate for novels set in hospitals. But then who am I to argue with an author who sold 60 million books in his lifetime?
One thing that all these books had in common was a rattling good story which had you really turning the pages, strong characters that stirred your emotions (whether admiration, like, dislike or even on occasion fancying something rotten) and altogether giving you an experience well away from your own humdrum existence. The really good ones made you smile, even laugh occasionally but also to cry. I hope to write about some of my favourites in future articles.
Later in life, I discovered so many more authors who could do the same – Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, Anthony Trollope from the nineteenth century and hosts of authors from the twentieth spring to mind. Tolkien certainly achieved it, as did H E Bates and C S Lewis (though the allegory was laid on with a trowel in the Chronicles of Narnia series, particularly in the later books). Another mid-twentieth century author, R F Delderfield, was a favourite for a while – and his novels made powerful and much-loved TV dramas in the late 1970s and early 1980s – including People Like Us, To Serve Them All My Days and A Horseman Riding By.
Even the better exponents of classic detective fiction could achieve a high degree of involvement and identification – particularly Dorothy Sayers and Marjorie Allingham (yes, I confess, I would love to have been Lord Peter Wimsey). Interestingly, never Agatha Christie – I have always found those books of hers that I have read entertaining without being particularly engaging. Jeffery Archer, meanwhile – despite the vitriol heaped upon his head – does have these qualities (which presumably explains his phenomenal success in the best seller lists, if not with the critics).
In recent years, I have read remarkably little fiction. Work tended to leave me little time to read, and such reading as I did was focused on contemporary history and biography. However, I did start to read fiction again on my e-reader or tablet a couple of years ago, particularly when travelling for work or on holiday.
Then by chance last year I discovered the whole M/M romance genre. The choice of books is immense, and in the very best of them I have discovered the qualities of involvement and identification that for me make such a good read.
The journey over the past few months has been intense – emotional, erotic, joyful and occasionally very funny. The happy ever after guarantee that goes with romantic fiction means that you always finish the book with a warm glow. Life may not always be like that, but my goodness it’s nice while it lasts – in these days of terrorism, Brexit, May and Trump, it’s helpful to believe in the possibility of some happy endings.
I’ve come across all sorts of characters whom I would love to meet and spend time with. At the same time, I have formed a huge admiration for the authors that I have read. They work really hard, and provide an important service to gay men young and old all over the world. I only wish that I had had access to such positive stories and role models when I was growing up - it would have made life so much easier, and made it possible to believe in a happy future in a way that I certainly did not until my late twenties - but that's another story for another day.
Altogether, I’ve had a great time reading these over the past few months - but most important of all, I suppose, the experience has stimulated me to take up my own pen again after a 30 year gap. I shall be writing about that some more in the months to come.
My favourite M/M romance authors
- Lucy Lennox
- A M Arthur
- Raleigh Ruebins
- Riley Hart
- Sean Ashcroft
- Annabeth Albert
- Max Walker
- Aimee Nicole Walker
- Sloane Kennedy
- Kindle Alexander
- Devon McCormack
- Alex Miska
- Rosalind Abel
- Avery Ford
There are many others as yet undiscovered (by me, at least).
A word of warning: many if not all these books contain explicit sexual material. Steer clear if this is likely to offend you.