It used to be that homosexuality was the immediately identifiable Mark of Wickedness and Evil. In 2000, Candy Tan critiqued “The Completely Despicable Gay Uber-Villain†at AAR’s At the Back Fence blog, deploring “the constant and pretty much consistent association of homosexuality, bisexuality and almost anything other than regular heterosexual sex with everything evil,†labeling it as “the lure of Instant Depravity—‘For Immediate and Complete Evilness, Just Add Homosexuality!’â€
I would argue, though, that Gay Insta-Evil has almost always gone hand-in-hand with Insta-Evil Sadism. In fact, sadism has always been a much more reliable indicator of uber-villainy than homosexuality. For example, Mary Novak, concurring with Tan at AAR, argues that “Jack Randall [of Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander] is a pretty extreme villain for any romance, but the fact that he’s also bisexual doesn’t offend me the way some less extreme gay villains have. Why?†Because “it’s clear that sadism is Randall’s main pathology, and his sexual inclination is relatively incidental.†By this logic, then, Randall isn’t a villain because he’s not heterosexual; he’s the villain because he’s a sadist — a conclusion that implies that it is both acceptable and expected to represent sadism this way because all sadists are clearly evil. Sadism, after all, is still a clinical pathology.
So while the world has changed enough that it is mostly unacceptable to use homosexuality as a short-cut symbol of depravity, sadism is a natural, obvious, and logical replacement in popular romance.
Ironically, even BDSM romances use sadism as a marker for villainy. BDSM, of course, is the combined acronym that covers a multitude of “unusual†sexual practices and alternate sexualities: the initials cover Bondage/Discipline, Domination/submission, and Sadism/Masochism. Almost all romances that bill themselves as BDSM romances, though, are actually D/s romances, following a relationship as it’s built through sexual power exchange, a formal, ritualized version of the underlying power negotiations of ALL popular romance, vanilla or kinky.
The bad characters, though, are sadists or masochists. Former bad relationships usually went bad because the former lover, whether sadist or masochist, wanted more pain than the main character was willing to give/take. The villian or the stalker or the serial murderer or the annoying guy — they’re almost always too extreme for the main characters, the author, and the reader. True sadism and masochism are usually a sign, even in BDSM romance, that something isn’t quite right with a character.
I’ve encountered two books recently that are actually SM romances, rather than purely D/s romances. They’re wonderful–but very very different–examples of how sadism and masochism can be represented as healthy sexual identities that can contribute to, even be the foundation of, a healthy, joyous relationship. Anah Crow’s Uneven is not for the faint of heart and can be shockingly violent, while Victoria Dahl’s sweet little Spice ebook The Wicked West is an historical Western with a couple of spanking scenes. But both of them show sadism and masochism as a sexual identity, both of them show how much healthier the characters are if they stay true to who they are, and both of them show how hot this aspect of sex can be. And neither of them fall into the easy way out of making the villain more “extreme” than the main characters.
From villainy to heroism–maybe sadism will come into its own in the romance genre one day soon!
No related posts.
Have you read “Switch” by Claire Thompson? It’s a gay romance with two D’s trying to figure out how to make things work and it includes a LOT of SM. It was a first for me, but I liked the book because the mens relationship and struggle were so engaging.
“Former bad relationships usually went bad because the former lover, whether sadist or masochist, wanted more pain than the main character was willing to give/take.”
This is a standard villain trick (and one I use all the time). You take an inclination in a hero or heroine and give it to the villain but notch it up so it is ‘out of control’ (in the eyes of the main character – everything is relative).
I, personally, don’t like mixing pain with sex (my preference) but I do know quite a few people who do. I understand sexy becomes scary when there is no trust between the two (or more) participants.
If that’s the case, then I guess writers should show that lack of trust (she says no, he continues) a bit clearer?? Would that be a fix?
The trust issue would fix it, yes, but it would be so….different to see a previous relationship that went bad because the *hero/heroine* needed more pain/dominance/kink than the previous partner was willing to give. That would open up a whole other set of issues about the MC feeling like a pervert and not feeling willing to trust him/herself. That’s internal conflict that’s so much more interesting to me than the external “oh my ex is teh ebil” conflict. That’s what Victoria Dahl does in The Wicked West, which is one of the reasons I liked it so much. But that’s me. I think the other way is easier.
Ohhh… that WOULD be a great plot.
I’m not familiar enough with the world (and tend not to write steamy enough) to pull it off well but wow, it would be a tempting issue to tackle.
>>the MC feeling like a pervert and not feeling willing to trust him/herself. That’s internal conflict that’s so much more interesting to me than the external “oh my ex is teh ebil†conflict.<<
I certainly understand where you’re coming from, Sarah, with this, and I’m willing to admit that I’ve used standard villainy over self-trust issues in my longer works. My reasons are many, but one key reason I’ve so far avoid “I’m a pervert” self-loathing is because I think of my elders who are now in their late 60s and into their 70s. They weren’t lucky enough to have the Internet for information dissemination and sex-positive messages.
Instead, they had next to nothing when they sought to validate their sexual identities. Mainstream nonfiction tomes routinely claimed they were pathological. Sleeze paperbacks were filled with disfunctional behaviors and comeuppance. And if you wanted any imagery or fiction that resonated with you, you had to go to pretty seedy places to get it.
Their experiences had such an impact on me that, to this day, it impacts how I plot a novel. It’s hard for me to go there because I remember my elders’ relief when they finally had access to positive information — and that didn’t happen for many of them until they joined an early on-line service like Prodigy or Compuserve. They suffered in silence for decades.
But you’ve given me something to think about, and I’m going to re-examine how inner conflict might work in a way that’s neither a matter of over-coming bad messages or engaging in passive-aggressive behaviors. I’ve got my homework cut out for me!
Trust me, the advent of the internet doesn’t keep kinky people from self-loathing. Yes, there’s positive stuff out there, Male Submission Art being a fabulous example (Very NSFW), but that doesn’t mean that in everyday interactions in relationships kinky people don’t end up feeling like complete freaks, even with very happily consenting partners. People I’ve talked with about it say that the cultural imperative not to hurt anyone, but especially a sexual partner, is so ingrained–as it should be, right? because of domestic violence awareness–that it’s very difficult to hurt or be hurt sexually and not feel like you’re a complete outcast. It’s certainly easier in the 21st century than it ever has been. But that doesn’t mean that it’s a breeze, by any stretch. And that’s just internal conflict that doesn’t touch the fact that what kinky folk do is illegal in most states and is grounds for loss of child custody, jobs, security clearances, etc…..
I guess I’ve been hanging out with “settled” BDSM people for so long that I haven’t seen a struggling individual in… probably a good decade or more.
It’s probably been almost that long since I last knew someone who was having custody problems because of their sexual identity and practices, but you’re right that we’ve a ways to go when it comes to the courts. (Although I know someone who’s serving as an expert witness this week in a custody case so it’s not impossible to address the matter in a court.) Employers, I think, have the longest way to go.
Regardless, you’ve piqued my curiosity and I’m gonna check out your recommended reads!
Apparently I can’t reply to your last message? Anyway, I hesitate to do this, but if you google those two books and Dear Author, you’ll find my reviews. Anah Crow’s book is VERY violent, but IMO, absolutely brilliant. One of the best pure ROMANCES I’ve ever read.
No worry. Both titles were easy to fine and I immediately purchased Crow’s novel. I’ll look more at Dahl’s book once I play with my new Sony 505 a bit more. I’m not convinced PDFs re-flow adequately enough to keep from interfering with the reading experience, but I’ll probably chance Dahl’s ebook because, as a short read, any PDF shortcomings shouldn’t interfere too dramatically with its reading.
Thanks ~
If that’s the case, then I guess writers should show that lack of trust (she says no, he continues) a bit clearer?? Would that be a fix?
It would work, from a plot/characters POV, but my problem with this is that it reinforces the stereotype that sadists are people who don’t care whether their partner is having a good time. It’s like the idea that we could show a gay man is really a villain by having him go after eight-year-old boys. Well, yeah, that’d certainly work, but it also reinforces the stereotype that all gay men are pedophiles. :/
I definitely like Sarah’s idea of having it be the protag who wants more pain.
That 1) makes the ex wrong for the protag but not OMGEvil!! and 2) turns the stereotype around by encouraging the reader to understand someone who needs more, rather than just empathizing with the one who doesn’t want to go too far.
Angie
I think the distinction that has to be made about Jack Randall, though, is not that he was a villain because of his sadist proclivities, but because he was a rapist, who was not interacting with willing partners. Even if there had been no sadism present, the attempted rape of Claire and the coercion of Jamie (threatening Claire’s life if he didn’t comply) is what makes Randall a villain.
I agree with your point, though–any kink / choice can be manipulated into a stereotype if the author doesn’t explore why these choices are made and look to see why the other is attracted to those choices.
It’s been a long while since I read Gabaldon, and I agree with you about the non-consensuality of Randall’s villainy, but I also distinctly remember a line from one of the later books where Claire yells at Briana that Randall’s problem is that he’s a pervert–meaning a sadist–the implication being that anyone who is a sadist is therefore automatically a “pervert” and a villain, that sadists can’t help but be villains.
But, it’s been a while, I’ll admit. I’d love to analyze Gabaldon’s construction of Randall, as gay, as a sadist, as a villain, but I don’t think I can bring myself to dive into those millions of pages again.
“Gay Insta-Evil has almost always gone hand-in-hand with Insta-Evil Sadism”
Do you think it’s specifically a sadism connection, or is that a specific twist on a more general issue with power dynamics? I ask because I recently read Rebecca Pope’s essay “Hayley, Roz, and Me”, which discusses the demonization and punishment of lesbian teachers in fiction. Her examples include Muriel Spark’s The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, Lillian Hellman’s The Children’s Hour, Radclyffe Hall’s The Well of Loneliness, and Clemence Dane(Winifred Ashton)’s Regiment of Women–some of which were written in that strange post-Victorian period when lesbianism was still considered a pathology. But they certainly convey disturbing messages about gayness and power being a dark and dangerous combination, and it piqued my interest that the same combination crops up regularly in more recent romances.
Well, that’s the fascinating question, isn’t it. The thing is, D/s romances don’t have a problem playing with the power dynamics–although femdom romance is so scarce, so maybe we do have that problem. I firmly believe that ALL romance is about power dynamics. I think what’s fascinating is the use of SM to marginalize extreme or non-consensual power dynamics. Kinda like, “Hey, we’re experimenting with some pretty freaky stuff here, but we’re okay because we’re not like The Villain, who you can tell is teh ebil because he’s a sadist and prefers to do it without consent.” It’s a way to make some pretty hardcore D/s romance acceptable, because it’s demonstrating that it doesn’t go “There” even if it’s examining some strange stuff.
Good point about the “we’re weird, but not like THOSE weirdos” tenor of it. That crystallizes my thoughts on a Maya Banks novel involving two men, one woman, and three-way sex that’s GOT to be extremely intimate between the two men. There’s absolutely no room in the narrative to note that intimacy; the two men are portrayed as blithely good buddies, each oblivious to the other except as a bonus sex toy for the woman. I had other issues with the book–awful heroine–but as in so much of romance, I thought the positive spin was that female-centric fantasies were being normalized. The flip side, of course, was that it did seem to be at the expense of challenging other social mores.
“I firmly believe that ALL romance is about power dynamics.”
I’m reading Georgette Heyer’s Frederica for the first time, and good lord–it’s ALL about power!
That’s… yeah. [lightbulb] That points to a reflex reaction to build up one thing by stepping on another. These people here are okay, and you can tell because that person over there is evil, and he’s worse than they are.
Why does there have to be something worse? It assumes that good and evil are only relative, that you can’t be good unless you can point to something worse than you and label it evil. The fact that it’s so unusual — and now that you point it out I agree that it is — to have something formerly denigrated shown to be good or worthy or acceptable all on its own, without the corresponding, “Oh, but that over there is evil/bad/wrong!” says something about us. Wouldn’t it be great if we could celebrate or support one thing without feeling forced to stomp on something else?
Angie, still pondering
“Former bad relationships usually went bad because the former lover, whether sadist or masochist, wanted more pain than the main character was willing to give/take.”
::wince::
Male Submission Art is just wonderful. I have it on my RSS feed, and it has been half my problem with getting my WIP finished. MayMay keeps offering up such wonderful insight into the male sub mind that I keep trying to figure out how to portray that and…well, I’m working on it. Maybe not ‘getting it’ as well as I should… but working on it
Not picking on you, Anne! Just noticing trends. And trust me, it’s a big trend. Or trope. Or something.
I think it’s part of why I don’t read BDSM themed books all that much – The bad guy is always the ubersadist… You can kill with kindness too, you know!
There are so many misconceptions about BDSM. You don’t have to don a black leather mask and drag out the whips and chains to enjoy a D/s story. It’s all about the power exchange, the trust, and there’s so many levels to explore! (and yeah, there can be whips and chains too and all sorts of other fun “props”)
I absolutely loved Victoria Dahl’s The Wicked West. It was great to see a “reluctant dom” who felt pervy but couldn’t help himself, and a confident sub who wasn’t weak or whiny. SHE seduced HIM and I loved it! What a fun read.
I started writing BDSM romances when I couldn’t find any good ones several years ago. To me it didn’t make sense that romance and the wonderful flavors that make up BDSM couldn’t go together. Dominance and sadism do not equal “villian” any more than flowers and a love of cooking equal “gay”.
As erotic romance has grown as a genre, BDSM as a kink has also grown in acceptance. Or perhaps its the other way around. Either way, erotic romance with sadistic heroes is a sub-genre here to stay and I, for one, enjoy writing (and reading) it!
Well, my view point as a reader is ‘here’s another good reason to dispense with the outside plot’!
If there’s no suspense subplot there’s no need for a villain and that whole issue of stereotyping doesn’t come up. The author gets to spend more time on the characters’ motivations and their evolving relationship, sexual and emotional.
And there’ll be a story I’m interested to read, too. Double win.
Slight flippancy aside, I don’t find it surprising and not necessarily ‘wrong’ that people associate ’sadism’ with non-normative and undesirable behavior. Particularly, since that word used in it’s everyday meaning is distinct from what and how the BDSM community uses it.
To ‘everyday person’ who hears that a person is a sadist it means a person who likes torturing animals and people for the power trip, un-empath, uninterested in others and their feelings, enjoying others’ pain because those others have no control over the situation, non-consensual all the way.
So, from the everyday associations of the word, having the villain be a ’sadist’ shows that they are less than human because they lack the features that make them human (empathy and feelings of good-will towards humans or animals).
That’s the problem with appropriating terminology. While the BDSM community imbues ’sadist’ with a whole different meaning, everyday people do not and the host of bad BDSM out there does not help you communicate to the everyday person that you as a sadist *do* care about your partner’s feelings, do feel empathy and do not torture animals and humans for kicks and the power trip.
From my perspective as mostly ‘vanilla’ person, using the terminology of ’sadist’ and ‘masochist’ is not conducive to letting the vast majority of folks out there understand that there’s a difference in the behavior between what the ’standard’ definition says and what BDSM lifestyle means.
I think outside the group of people who understand the difference in terminology, you’ll have hard going trying to convince folks that using ’sadist’ as a shortcut for villain in literature is a bad thing.
I really think that the long-term appropriation of the term ’sadist’ to mean ‘I enjoy the giving and receiving of pain during my consensual sexual encounters’ is doomed to failure because the overwhelming majority does not know of or associate the term with that definition.
See, a person who tortures animals and people for power trip is a sociopath and/or a psychopath. Sadism and masochism were originally sexual terms and have been expanded into common usage. I find it difficult to imagine any other word for the consensual sexual practice, because those are original meanings of the words.
Interesting argument, though. I do see what you mean.
It’s true that sadism is originally a sexual term, but I’d argue that it described consensual sexual practices. Because if we are talking about le Marquis de Sade we also have to talk about non-consensual, power trip, and possibly sociopath. He was one sick puppy!
So the current non-sexual meaning is not coming out of empty air.
Take another term that originally had a different, non-sexual meaning: gay.
Certainly you may hear people use ‘gay’ in terms of happy, exuberant, etc., but I’d argue that most people who hear the word ‘gay’ nowadays think ‘homosexual’ first before they consider any other possibilities.
Now, I could see a movement to ‘take the meaning of ‘gay’ back’, but I’d also think it would be doomed to failure.
It would be interesting to do a survey and see how many people associate a sexual meaning with ’sadist’ first. My theory would be, very few.
‘Masochist’ on the other hand is a much more sexual term to me, although now that I think about it, the first thing that comes to mind is again not sexual but a person who allows others to take advantage of them. The reason why the term is less negatively connotated for me is probably because I consider the masochist to be actively participating and deciding to allow the other party to do as they please.
Interesting topic, that’s for sure! I don’t know if being a non-native speaker also plays into this, but since we use the same words in German, I tend to doubt it.
I really think that the long-term appropriation of the term ’sadist’ to mean ‘I enjoy the giving and receiving of pain during my consensual sexual encounters’ is doomed to failure because the overwhelming majority does not know of or associate the term with that definition.
Couldn’t have said it better — thank you. I wonder why the terminology we have out there for books that push prod and explode the envelope — allowing readers to enjoy books that are perhaps unusual initially — aren’t sufficient. And does Ms. Dahl use the terms sadist/masochist to describe her H/H? Is this language borrowed from another genre — like M/M — where the words may (don’t know, haven’t read enough of these books) have an entirely different connotation?
For me personally, this entire thread has just embedded horrid Randall of Gabaldon fame in my head and that is not a good thing! Kidding of course but some people, some actions, are not redeemable and if “sadist” as a term is sanitized, made vanilla somehow, then what do we call people like him?
Um, sociopath.
The terms sadist and masochist have ALWAYS had sexual meaning. Original definitions were sexual.
I guess my point is that the villain can be villainous without ALSO being a sadist/masochist. Surely his/her actions speak to villainy–do we have to add all the secondary “villainous” markers for readers to understand that this person is Not Good?
Frustrating for me that I can’t go ‘Read Remastering Jerna!’ because in that I have a very moral hero who is also a sadistic dominant
I’ve written bad guys who are sadists, certainly, but also several where the sadistic dom is very much the good guy (in one story, I have both good and evil sadistic doms – in the Pindone Files, here:
http://www.logophilos.net/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=24&Itemid=37
- free to read.)
In my research, it’s very clear to me that being a good dominant, sadistic or not, is bloody hard work. So you either have to be utterly selfish to get any satisfaction, or very selfless. Being half-hearted about the responsibility and trust – not to mention the potential for serious injury – means a lousy dom, every time.
If anyone wants to see a S/M and D/s romantic relationship, I also have the free to read ‘Time Out’, under Nonfantasy at the above link. I’d love to know what people think, especially those in the scene.