By Susan Roberts
People often ask me why I write foreign heroes as the love interest in my novels. An awkward question, and one that I have to answer carefully. I mean, I don’t want to insult my South African male friends, do I? So without beating too much about the old shrubbery, let’s unpack this question and see what we can find.
As a romance writer, I have a pattern that I am obliged to follow. Tall, dark and handsome male? Check. Not a problem to find any number of those here. A man who will love his woman and protect her to the death, no matter what? Check. Plenty of those too, but in real South African life that protection frequently does end in death, which doesn’t go down too well in a romance. But hey – it worked for Romeo and Juliet, so let’s look at our choices.
We can have death by hijacking, mugging or the more adventurous gang of house-breakers who crash in after ripping out the burglar bars with the winch on their 4×4 and hold up the entire household at gun point. Exciting stuff, but not for the faint-hearted. Wait – there’s more! Then we have them biting off fingers for rings, violating the women while forcing the men to watch, and then shooting the men in cold blood while they are still tied to a chair.
No, this is not some sadistic plot for a future novel of mine. Each of the above incidents has occurred – sometimes daily – in certain parts of my lovely country, but few get to hear about it because it has become so commonplace as to be no longer newsworthy.
Back to my hero list: A man with a private source of wealth and/or good job prospects? Hmm, not so easy to check this one. If he’s a politician, then he probably has unlimited wealth as well as access to a number of funds, but not necessarily his own. However, who can honestly see any politician as a romantic lead in a novel? Unless you’re writing a romantic fantasy about Nelson Mandela himself, it’s a kind of no-go area because of the sour taste most politicians leave in our mouths. Anyway, somebody already made a romantic film about Mandela.
We’ve had other wonderful films about Mandela, Steve Biko and Donald Woods, but these are actual historical stories, taken from a past in which those heroes, being the plight-of-the-underdog types, became the epitome of the South African hero. Somehow the same thing doesn’t work when today’s rulers from that formerly underdog party abuse their power a few decades later. Show me a successful politician in South Africa today, and I’ll show you someone who bends the rules in order to keep playing ball with his equally corrupt buddies – like Bob over the border.
Talking of playing ball, what about sporting heroes? Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter which country they live in, sportsmen have a limited shelf life, so they’re not the best long-term prospects. Some of them are great actors though (and much better paid than normal actors!), and particularly convincing when it comes to showing the ref that they have been mortally wounded in an unfair tackle. Whoosh! There goes all my respect for their sporting prowess – out the window!
Then there was that track star with bionic legs, whose last girlfriend… Okay, let’s not go there; the court case is still on.
What other males are successful in South Africa today? I prefer to steer clear of the big corporate mining types and businessmen who make their millions on the backs of the downtrodden masses, so let’s avoid those. In fact, in view of the storm still raging over the Marikana massacre, it’s best if we don’t go there at all.
How about minibus-taxi drivers? There’s an enterprising group of normal, hot-blooded men. If it weren’t for their fearsome reputation of clocking up a road death toll almost daily, they’d be quite dashing. Dashing here, dashing there and generally swashbuckling about everywhere in their precarious clapped out and barely held together vehicles, reminiscent of Han Solo’s infamous Millennium Falcon spaceship. (Okay, we did the Han Solo thing in the last blog; stick to the South Africans, please – Ed)
If we’re supposed to write about what we know, or what we’re passionate about, then I can’t write about a taxi driver, a corporate mining big-wig, a wimpy soccer star, a politician or a daring housebreaker. Sorry, but there’s just no inspiration coming from those channels.
Looking back at my boyfriends over the years, I see a string of youths who earned their living working as lighting technicians, sound engineers and stage managers. Oh, did I ever mention that they nearly all came from other countries? Yes, one of my friends gleefully pointed that out to me (and to everyone else within earshot, dammit). What does this tell you about how I went for South African lads even when I was young and they still had decent job prospects? Yup, I guess I just didn’t.
And if I didn’t go for them way back then, why would I now when those prospects are even leaner? I’m not sure I could get excited about a hero who’s lost his job because he’s now too pale to fit in with his progressive, forward-looking company’s stance on BEE. I’m not saying that such a guy doesn’t have the right credentials; I’m saying that those credentials only work when that guy goes to another country and bravely starts to make a new life for himself.
Wait, that reminds me: my new novel has a minor character who was born in Australia and goes back there in his forties with his South African wife and daughter. This is taken from real life – my brother-in-law took my sister back to the land of his birth when he could no longer make a decent living in South Africa thanks to BEE and the horrors of an escalating crime rate. A brave move on his part, but hang on – he’s not South African either!
How about a character who doesn’t go to another country? Perhaps I could write about a hero who loses his job, his money, his house and then his family, and bravely stays here to face the consequences? Perhaps he could end up on the street in true South African style, living in Joubert Park, or some slum in central Johannesburg, fighting hardships thrown at him by the harshness of street life. Now there’s a rite of passage guaranteed to bring out the survival instincts in a true hero!
However, I don’t think my readers would enjoy it. I certainly wouldn’t enjoy writing it. Such a character may be a great hero in a dystopian novel, but not in romantic fiction. The very idea of Mr Darcy losing his estate, money and family influence, to become a beggar on the streets of London, Bath or some village in Sussex isn’t going to get Lizzie Bennett’s hormones raging, or mine, or indeed any hormones belonging to the reader of such a tragedy.
So, getting back to the original question: why do I choose foreign heroes? Because they work as romantic ideals of the perfect male, untainted by the realities amongst which we are forced to live every day.
Let’s not forget that the statistics (which we are not supposed to know) point to the fact that two women are raped every minute in this unfair, fair land. Is it any wonder that I want my beleaguered South African heroines to be rescued from their plight by a man who really can spirit them away from this violent land to another country – a place where they have a reasonable shot at living happily ever after?