Today I decided to accept that I am unironically a big fan of the romantic subplot.

As with all things, this is not a universal love: not all romantic subplots are created equal, and not all of them automatically and specifically appeal to me. But I have noticed that - in genres that I tend to like already, in stories that I'm already enjoying - a good romantic subplot can really sweep me off my feet.

This seems to be a somewhat strange position to hold in fandom spaces, where somehow conversations often revolve around to-ship-or-not-to-ship with fervor (and weird implications of moral superiority) on both sides. But even in shipping fandom, there is often a good deal of critical skepticism for the provided romantic subplot of whatever source text. And maybe it's just me being an uncritical media consumer ready to accept avidly whatever is offered, but - I've almost always liked the canon romance. Sometimes really liked it. This isn't necessarily an uncommon position to hold, but I feel strangely self-conscious about it, with all the (mostly rightful) scrutiny placed on whatever narratives the canon is trying to reinforce. I feel sometimes like if I'm liking what I see in canon, wanting more of it, I'm not looking hard enough at what might be wrong. And yet -

And yet I read a book last night that I've been thinking about all day, involving a doomed magical romance technically second to the main plot of the story, but really the heart of it. And isn't that so often the case? - that the romance is, or is meant to be, the heart of the story?

I think it is something about the romantic subplot specifically that hooks me - because I've never been especially inspired by romance novels. Not in a way that I'm averse to them, but I find building romance as itself difficult to believe at times. (I think it might be that nebulous Q-A area I hover in, that makes me never quite believe romance budding for romance's own sake. I should also note that this gets me in a lot of YA love triangles with a mysterious brooding stranger - knowing from the start that there will be this romance leaves me cold.) But when part of the story is inextricably entwined with characters entwining with one another, coming to know their own hearts along with the story and binding themselves together . . . it lingers on my tongue in a way I can't stop thinking about, want to rotate in my mind forever. I am thinking about Percy Jackson here (the couple from the first series, Percy and Annabeth, sticks with me so much more than the couples in the second series, announced and set out from the beginning); about Avatar: the Last Airbender, where this love is the heart of the show. I know I'm not saying anything new here, but it's strange for me to come and recognize this - so often I feel the need to explain particular couples that I have come to love as being somehow "different" or "special" - but really, I am here and credulous, ready to get swept up along with the characters, ready to come along for the ride.

(The book was Lost in the Never Woods by Aiden Thomas, by the way - mixed recommendations, as I found the writing middling and the resolution a little too quick, but the emotional beats really worked on me, the romance swept me up - and the combination of the two did make me cry at the end.)

I have discovered I am in love with Bundle Brent from sadly only two Agatha Christie novels (but specifically The Seven Dials Mystery). I would not call myself a mystery fan per se, but every now and then I go on a bender wherein I must read as many Agatha Christie novels as I can get my hands on, and Seven Dials Mystery has absolutely enchanted me.

Also, her father, Lord Caterham, should be in more stuff because he has the best dialogue. A snippet:

"Go and tell Mr. Lomax that you have made a mistake, that I am out in the village, that I am laid up with the gout, or, if all else fails, that I am dead."
"Mr. Lomax, my lord, has already caught sight of your lordship when driving up the drive."
Lord Caterham sighed deeply.
"He would. Very well, Tredwell, I am coming."
In a manner highly characteristic, Lord Caterham was always most genial when his feelings were in reality the reverse. He greeted George now with a heartiness quite unparalleled.

My gosh, I forgot what a hard-hitting book Rebecca is, OOF. Daphne du Maurier decades ahead of all of us with the depictions of anxiety.