Love matters: the case for an inclusive, contemporary approach to romance themes and texts in subject English

This paper examines analyses of adolescent romance fiction, highlighting key themes and debates over time. I will argue that contemporary social conditions underline the need to reconsider the value of this genre in the secondary English classroom. However, working effectively with genre literature (including romance) requires educators to diversify reading practices, challenging the dominance of the standard ‘class novel’ approach. I will describe the integration of a module on teen romance into a literature course for preservice English educators. Finally, focusing on a specific text, Frankly in Love by David Yoon, I highlight the skilful way in which authors of contemporary adolescent literature weave multiple perspectives into engaging and nuanced narratives in which characters navigate identities, relationships, and ideas about love.


Introduction
Teen romance has often been viewed as the epitome of trash fiction.Evidence for this negative view amongst English teachers and the literary public is not hard to find.It is considered escapist (Gruner, 2019), consumerist (Johnson, 2010), and 'fluff' (Christian-Smith, 1993, p. 51), in other words, not serious or literary enough to merit attention from intelligent, mature people.Warranted critiques have also been made of the romance genre's reproduction of gender stereotypes, a point to which I will return later in this paper.
Countering this view are those who argue that the romance genre has been devalued for reasons that reflect elitism, conservatism, and a disdain for the interests of a large group of readers.Romance fiction is 'a feminized canon … that for the most part has escaped critical recognition' (Gruner, 2019, p. 52).From this perspective, the association of romance literature with female writers and readers has had a lot to do with its being overlooked and denigrated.
This paper examines the analyses of adolescent romance fiction, highlighting key themes and debates over time.I will argue that texts in the romance genre, or with romance themes, are a valuable inclusion in the secondary English curriculum.Contemporary social conditions underline the need to reconsider the value of this genre in the classroom.However, working effectively with genre literature (including romance) requires educators to diversify reading practices, challenging the dominance of the standard 'class novel' approach.I will describe the integration of the romance genre into a literature course for preservice English educators.Finally, focusing on a specific text, I highlight the skilful way in which authors of adolescent literature weave multiple perspectives into engaging and nuanced narratives in which characters navigate identities, relationships, and ideas about love.

Situating adolescent romance fiction
The category of adolescent romance fiction has fuzzy boundaries, intersecting with general teen or young adult (YA) fiction and with adult romance literature.My focus here is inclusive of 'teen/YA fiction' in which the main character's navigation of romantic relationships (flirtation, falling in love, dating, and sex) forms a major narrative arc.Texts may be explicitly located within the romance genre, or they may be presented as generalist teen literature, in which the romance element is integral.Settings are often contemporary and naturalistic but may be historical, fantastic, or futuristic.
The dividing line between classic literature and popular adolescent fiction may seem to be clear and is often claimed to be by critics.But when it comes to the romance element, the situation is not so straightforward.Romantic themes, characters, and storylines are central to the novels of Austen, Bronte, James, and other esteemed literary authors.The fabric of contemporary adolescent romance is woven through with threads drawn from this romantic literary tradition.Gruner's analysis of popular teen romance novels finds they are 'deeply intertextual and often metafictional: they reference, and can be structured by, earlier works of fiction '. (2019, p. 53).
However, the social world of adolescents in the twenty-first century is sufficiently dissimilar to that of past centuries that there is a clear need for contemporary fiction in the curriculum.If students should be encouraged to read the romance of past generations, why not of current times?

Looking for love in the English curriculum
Educators often look to the Australian Curriculum for guidance as to the kinds of texts that should be set (https:// austr alian curri culum.edu.au/).They will find no preclusion of romance literature but little direct encouragement to include this genre or indeed other popular genres.The Australian Curriculum English is largely open as to the types of texts educators can work with.Indeed, the literature strand states that students should encounter 'different types of texts' (ACELT1621, 1643, and 1768) in a range of forms, including 'poetry, humorous prose, drama or visual texts' (ACELT1630) and 'short films, graphic novels, and plays' (ACELT1637).Texts should be 'drawn from different historical, social and cultural contexts' (ACELT 1619(ACELT , 1633(ACELT , and 1639)).There is also recognition that texts may 'reflect or challenge the values of individuals and groups' (ACELT1626), 'influence emotions and opinions' (ACELT1621), and 'represent particular groups in society' (ACELT1628).
None of this precludes working with romance fiction as defined above.Indeed, the potential for novels that focus on love to 'influence emotions and opinions' and 'reflect or challenge … values' is high.However, if we consider romance fiction as a genre, there is no acknowledgment of genre as a category.Elaboration of the category of text type into, for instance, 'short films, graphic novels, and plays' appears to be intended to ensure that texts other than novels are studied rather than to encourage diversity in terms of genre.This is in comparison with the categorisation of texts in publishers' catalogues, bookshops, and libraries where the assumption that readers look for a particular kind of reading material is common.In short, though there is no prohibition on including romance fiction (or other fiction genres), neither is there any explicit encouragement for doing so.
This silence around genre in general, and romance in particular, is also found when we look at the evidence on English teachers' text selection.A number of researchers have studied this practice (Bliss & Bacalja, 2021;Greig & Holloway, 2016;Little & Aglinskas, 2022;McLean Davies et al., 2022;Strong, 2019;Thiel, 2022;Thomson, 2016;Wenger, 2018).Across the studies, there is clear agreement on the importance of including contemporary texts in the curriculum.The ideal qualities of such texts can be gleaned from terms such as 'serious' (Watkins & Ostenson, 2015), 'real-world' (Darragh & Boyd, 2019;Wilhelm, 2015), and 'relevant' (Bliss & Bacalja, 2021).There is also agreement that a variety of texts should be offered (Little & Aglinskas, 2022;McLean Davies et al., 2022;Watkins & Ostenson, 2015;Wilhelm, 2015).These criteria potentially open the door to genre fiction, as long as it is contemporary, relevant, and deals with real-world issues in a serious way.A list of candidate adolescent romance novels could easily be drawn up from these criteria.
However, explicit references to romance or love either as a genre or as an 'issue' are few and far between in the literature on text selection.Indeed, genre is given very little attention.Thomson (2016) states that a selected text should be a 'good example of' its genre, and Strong (2019) advocates a 'mix' of genres, specifying horror as an example.Romance fiction was mentioned by one author, only to note that, like other genres, it was 'marginalized' and thus unlikely to appear in the official curriculum (Wilhelm, 2015, p. 44).
The impression gained from the literature on text selection for secondary English is that the concept of 'contemporary literature' exists as a balance or contrast to the canon, which is the traditional mainstay of the curriculum.A vague sense that 'variety' is a good thing permeates the discussion; however, that this variety could or should be achieved through the intentional inclusion of books in specific fictional genres (romance, horror, and fantasy) is by no means the common understanding.So, broadly, genre fiction is not explicitly favoured.When it comes to the contemporary romance genre, there may be additional factors contributing to its exclusion.

The case against teen romance
A history of bad press has no doubt had some bearing on the status of teen romance in the English curriculum.Here, I will examine critique in commentary expressed over several decades.These include that teen romance reproduces dominant gender relations, involves inappropriate depictions of sexuality, and is inherently without merit or quality as literature.This list of negatives should suggest the diversity of standpoints from which adolescent literature is critiqued.It has been considered too conservative and not conservative enough, challenging, and anodyne.
Christian-Smith writing in the late 1980s referred to the 'very consistent nature of femininity' portrayed in teen romance novels (Christian-Smith, 1987, p. 391).This femininity, she argued, was always constructed 'in terms of others, with boys in the powerful position of giving girls' lives meaning' (Christian-Smith, 1987, p. 368).Similarly, Gilbert's (1991Gilbert's ( , 1992) study of fiction published in a teen girl's magazine argued that these texts naturalised stereotypical forms of femininity.
The entry of strong female protagonists in YA literature, with female leads in series such as Hunger Games and Divergent, is widely seen as reflecting a societal shift in gender representation.However, some argue that romance elements of these novels continue to propagate outdated conventions.Garcia (2013) gives numerous examples in his discussion of contemporary YA with strong female leads.For instance, one 'otherwise independent and strong-willed protagonist' becomes 'all but helpless when encountering an attractive, male foe' (Garcia, 2013, p. 81).This weakness at the knees when a female is confronted by her own desire is a classic trope of the romance genre (Dixon, 1999).
Desire is also a problem for a different, conservative group of critics.From the time that teen romance fiction began to explore adolescent sexuality, there have been complaints about its perceived pernicious influence.Interventions have been advocated, and enacted, to censor content and/or restrict access.Reynolds refers to sex as 'one of the most vigorously patrolled boundaries' in literature, intended to 'separate[e] fiction for adults from that for juveniles ' (2007, p. 115).Early pioneer of realistic depictions of teen desire, Judy Blume, became 'one of the world's most banned authors', and her novels were 'often criticised for lacking literary merit' (Reynolds, 2007, p. 120, 121).Somewhat more recently, the aptly named Doing It (Burgess, 2004) was referred to as 'disgusting musings' by Children's Laureate, Anne Fine (op.cit.).
Queer representation is the latest battleground for conservative critics of teen romance, and of adolescent literature in general.Currently, fiction which includes LGBTQ characters is being subjected to a sustained attack which has included book bans, picketing of libraries and schools, and serious pressure applied to librarians and educators (Bach, 2016;Chapman, 2021;Yorio, 2020).A full list of books banned in the USA is published annually by the American Libraries Association (https:// www.ala.org/ advoc acy/ bbooks).Duarte et al. report that within the last 12 months, legislation restricting 'curriculum and instruction on sexual orientation or gender identity' was debated or enacted in over 15 states of the USA (Duarte et al., 2022, p. 59).As literature is seen as a powerful influence on children and youth, this drive is significantly impacting the presence of queer storylines and characters in the literature children and teenagers can read at school.
One of the ironies of this crackdown is that queer critics of teen romance have pointed to its heteronormative assumptions.As Wickens has pointed out, even novels that 'challenge homophobia' often 'leave it intact', for instance, by normalising secrecy around queer identity and implying that homophobia, though wrong, is an unfortunate fact of life (2011, p. 2148).The relative invisibility of teen lesbians and bisexuals has also been pointed out (Chapman, 2021).Considering queer female characters in YA speculative fiction, Green-Barteet and Coste (2019) show how queer identities are sacrificed and sidelined, for instance, by the character renouncing a physical existence.They understand this phenomenon, following Ahmed (2006) as an example of 'straightening', a process which restores normativity.However, the subtleties of these analyses are lost on book-banners, who are determined to prevent any representations of non-normative gender identity being given shelf-space.
Finally, in this brief discussion of critical perspectives are those who point to standards of literary excellence as the rationale for keeping teen romances, and other forms of popular culture or genre fiction, out of classrooms.Gilbert commented that romance fiction is not only 'devalued as a literary genre' but also 'devalued as a cultural field' because of its preoccupation with matters seen to be the domain of women and girls (1992, p. 196).She argues that such 'generic devaluation' is a way of 'regulating the social order' which privileges men (op.cit.).Adding support is the view that teen/YA literature is a 'prestige free zone', primarily owing to the dominance of female authors (Garcia, 2013, p. 83).Its infiltration into the classroom has even been blamed for the 'decline in national reading scores' owing to its being 'too simplistic' (Hill, 2014, p. 1, 3).Such critiques imply that the literary text sets the standard rather than teachers' guidance of student engagement with texts.

The case for teen romance
The case for teen romance recognises the genre's limitations but challenges its exclusion.Feminist scholars, even when critical, have often acknowledged the appeal of romance fiction to girls and young women.Amongst them, Christian-Smith's (1987, 1993) groundbreaking study found that teen girls were reading romance in agentic ways.She reported that fans of the genre wanted to see 'a heroine who is strong and assertive, especially toward boys', an attitude they aspired to carry into their lives (Christian-Smith, 1993, p. 55).Girls in this study were marginalised at school owing to their race, class, and perceived non-academic status.Poignantly, their identification with a strong, smart protagonist: 'coincided with the … desire to have teachers and other adults recognize them as nice and capable ' (op. cit., p. 53).
Romance fiction has also shifted in response to social change.By the 2000s, not only were female characters allowed to be sexually active, but they were 'no longer portrayed primarily as victims or reluctant participants' (Reynolds, 2007, p. 122).Contemporary YA romance, it is argued, often portrays romantic relationships constructively, placing the emphasis on 'communication between partners' and the 'mutuality of a sexual relationship' (Clasen & Hassel, 2017, p. 234).Considering the need for conversation about the negotiation of healthy relationships in adolescence, this makes romance fiction potentially a helpful resource.
The heteronormativity of romance fiction has also shifted with same-gender love relationships increasingly common, though still 'vastly under-published' (Garcia, 2013, p. 90).While some argue that the romance genre constrains the full exploration of queer identities (Wickens, 2011), others argue that the 'power in a happy ending' is particularly important to 'women, people of color, [and] queer people' (Green, 2019, online).Queer identifying authors have also raised the value in promoting understanding and acceptance of LGBTQ students, when their non-queer peers read storylines featuring queer protagonists.
One potential objection to setting romance novels is the response of male heterosexual readers, particularly given the acknowledged under-representation of male authors in the genre (Garcia, 2013).Educators have often been more inclined to cater for the perceived tastes of boys, whose potential for disruption in the English class is considered greater than girls' (Alloway et al., 2003).Ahead, I will be offering evidence from my own experience teaching romance to a mixed gender cohort of YAs.At this point, perhaps we should consider the nature of reading as an act of imagination (Rogers, 1999).
As readers, we are not restricted to identifying only with characters of our own gender.The phenomenon of fan fiction has revealed ways in which female readers are able to imaginatively inhabit the male love interest of romance literature (Thomas, 2006).As readersbecome-writers, they shape romance narratives to reflect their aspirations, to 'fashion new and emerging identities', not just for themselves but for those they hope to love (Thomas, 2006, p. 237).While there has been much less exploration of male readers identifying with female characters, we can look to the world of digital gaming, where cross-gender engagement is an acknowledged phenomenon.Nearly a third of surveyed male gamers prefer to play as female avatars (Yee, 2021).One, reflecting on this choice, explained: I (a Cis Male) prefer to play female characters because I find it easier to form an empathic bond (as opposed to a self-identity bond) with the character.… My female mass effect character feels like an actual (fictional) person.(Fenrir, in Yee, 2021) This phenomenon also occurs in viewing and reading.When a blogger posed the question, 'How easily do you identify with opposite-sex protagonists', the majority of comments were in the affirmative (Johanson, 2013).'MisterAntrobus', for instance, wrote that he identified with Hermione, rather than the male characters in Harry Potter, and thought this was quite usual.
Readers of romance novels, as with any other kind of fiction, have choices as to which character they identify with, and can switch allegiance over the course of reading.The inner world of protagonists, as they undergo the uncertainties, risks, and exhilaration of relationships, is potentially open to any reader to engage with, or to reject.

Integrating romance into an English teacher education course
In a deliberate attempt to increase textual diversity in the English curriculum, the author has designed and taught an Adolescent Literature course for the first year of a degree programme in secondary teaching.This elective subject is taken by students choosing English as a major or minor.The course aims to acquaint future English teachers with the rich variety of contemporary literature for adolescent readers with diverse interests and orientations to texts.
The need for such a course is affirmed by the students' reported experiences in their secondary English classrooms.Most students taking this course are recent school graduates; therefore they are still in the target audience for teen and YA fiction.
The majority report that contemporary adolescent literature was rarely encountered in high school.Those that were keen readers had a much more varied diet in their reading lives outside school.However, many do not consider themselves to be keen readers, despite their intention to teach English.Based on a show of hands in a class exercise, only a handful identified themselves as keen readers, with most of the others being 'occasional' readers and a couple of students avoiding reading if they could help it.Thus, for most, their exposure to literature had mainly been through subject English at school.If contemporary literature had not been studied at school, the likelihood was that they would continue to set the limited menu which they had been served.
Foundational to the pedagogic approach to this course is the view that multiple perspectives contribute to richer conversations about texts.Students are informed that the course operates on a social model of reading and that sharing, listening, and responding to peers is a primary activity (Doecke & Mead, 2022).Each student is allocated to a discussion group, which over the course will collaboratively read one novel for each module.Students are asked to keep and share journals, and many groups choose to keep a collaborative journal.It is not unusual to see students working online together in their face-to-face classes, as they contribute to their shared journal.
The social reading model also ensures that students will encounter a greater variety of texts, since groups are tasked with presenting each of their three texts to the whole class.Thus, students will read three texts in detail, but encounter at least fifteen texts across the course.In-task activities support groups to engage with their novels in different ways, and the final assignment asks students to propose a television adaptation of, and reflection on, one of the set novels.I have provided some detail as to the teaching approach to give a sense of the learning context within which these future English teachers engage with novels featuring romance, love, and sexuality.

Structure of the course
This course is structured in three modules: Perspectives, Futures, and Love & Lovers.Perspectives refers both to the centrality of characterisation in teen/YA and to the diversity of reader experiences of texts.In their book groups, students are encouraged to engage with the different perspectives of their peers as they navigate narratives.It is common for students to talk about their own histories, cultures, and assumptions as they help peers understand their responses to texts.For instance, many young women from immigrant families share how they identify with the protagonists in novels such as The Surprising Power of a Good Dumpling (Chim, 2020) and Between Us (Atkins, 2018).Students who may have found the portrayals of these characters extreme or unrealistic are prompted to reconsider their assumptions.Academic readings for this module explore theories of adolescence and discuss how these inform representations found in literature (Alsup, 2010(Alsup, , 2014;;Gruner, 2019).
The Love & Lovers module begins with exploring the relationship between romance fiction and adolescent/YA fiction.YA romance is described in terms of centring on a protagonist who falls in love (often a first love experience) and whose love story is typically woven into a broader coming-of-age narrative.Students are introduced to gender stereotyping and heteronormativity as integral to the traditions of romance fiction, which have influenced the teen romance genre, but which are giving ground to more inclusive representations and storylines (as discussed above).The second lecture in the module focuses on sexuality in teen fiction.In contemporary YA romance, students learn, the protagonist may also be discovering their gender identity, and exploration of sexuality may form part of the narrative.The issue of objectification is also raised, reflecting debates amongst authors and commentators as to ethical approaches to representing characters as sexual beings (Pohl, 2017).
The final lecture in this module focuses on diversity and representation and deliberately introduces an intersectional lens on romance literature.Intersectionality unsettles the tendency to reduce identities to a single dimension, such as gender or race, by 'conceiving of categories … as always permeated by other categories, fluid and changing' (Cho et al., 2013, p. 795).Identity, students learn, is 'formed in dialogue with society' and 'in relation to other selves' (McCallum & Zipes, 2012, p. 3).An individual may form identities in relation to different social and cultural contexts within which they live, study, work, and interact with others.Not all identities are equally enabled, valued, or easy to enact.YA authors who explore intersectionality often take their explorations into the domains of love and sex, since these are inherently contact zones where relational identities have to be navigated.
The Love & Lovers module is deliberately sequenced last in the course.By this time, group members are better acquainted with each other, which may make conversations about sensitive topics easier.To give a sense of these conversations, and the various perspectives on love, identity, and English education, which they surface, I will now share some snapshots from classes.

'That's just unrealistic'
Responses of some students to portrayals in adolescent romance reveal the boundaries of what they consider to be normal and acceptable in relationships.This can be an interesting subject for discussion.An example occurred when a group of preservice educators discussed Where We Begin (Neiman, 2020).While the novel is primarily a mystery, its romance sub-plot was the subject of lively discussion in one group.
The main character Anna, as is often the case in teen fiction, has a challenging home life and as a result is closed off and distrustful of others.A boy at school wins her trust by bringing her home-made lunches, and they begin a relationship.The home-made lunches were an unexpected bone of contention for one of the book groups.What may seem a nice caring gesture was criticised as completely unrealistic: 'You'd never do that'; 'That's so mushy'.It got a lot more criticism than the unplanned pregnancy of the main character, to which the boyfriend obviously contributed.
'Matt' who voiced this critique also mentioned that he had spoken to his sister about the book.She had assured him that many girls would really like to have a boy bring them lunch at school.He seemed to be willing to accept that this could be an aspirational portrayal: 'Perhaps it doesn't have to be realistic'.Matt also revealed that he never even spoke to girls at school.I realised that, for a first-year student in his first semester, a mixed-gender reading group might be groundbreaking in facilitating such conversations.

'Where was the mother?'
In The Surprising Power of a Good Dumpling (Chim, 2020), the main character (also Anna) juggles caring for her siblings while her mother is mentally unwell, and also working in the family's restaurant.'Rina', herself the oldest daughter of an immigrant family, identified strongly with the protagonist, saying 'This is my life!'.In the novel, Anna begins a friendship with Rory, the delivery boy, and gradually this develops into a romance kept secret from her family.
The book explores the progression of this relationship into a sensual dimension, which eventually leads to Anna and Rory having sex in his family home.Rina was very critical of this development.She spoke vehemently to her group about how Anna was shown imbibing alcohol and consequently becoming disinhibited and open to a sexual experience.She was aghast that Rory's mother had allowed the pair to go into his bedroom unsupervised.Other group members argued that Rory had shown his care for Anna by explicitly seeking consent and that Anna was depicted as lucid and capable of choosing her actions.
Rina chose to base her television adaptation on this novel.She added a new scene in which Rory's mother interrupts the lovers before sex can get underway.She calls Rory to another room where she gives him a stern talk about consent and warns him that alcohol compromises a girl's ability to decide.Rory is suitably contrite and promises to be mindful in future.

'The homophobic antagonist is my family' .
Discussing the representation of LGBT characters in YA fiction, Wickens (2011) comments that the role of antagonist is often given to a character who is blatantly homophobic.This character stands for the general homophobia which challenges the queer protagonist's struggle for acceptance, respect, and affirmation.During a discussion of this idea in an online workshop, 'Jem' stated matter-of-factly, 'the homophobic antagonist would be my family'.By taking up a tool of literary analysis, Jem alluded to her own queer identity and let her peers know that the experience of homophobia is real.
When it was time to adapt a novel, Jem asked me whether it would be ok to change the gender of the love interest.This meant she could create a lesbian romance within the narrative frame of her chosen novel Between Us (Atkins, 2018).I readily agreed.However, when she went on to propose that the ending be changed, I was more hesitant.In the original, the romance is not able to continue, as one of the protagonists is an interned refugee, who is moved to another camp away from the high school where she met her almost-boyfriend.I argued that the ending had something significant to say about the experience of refugees in Australia.
Jem told me: 'I want them to have a happy ending, to leave their families and set up house together'.She explained that her family did not want her to have a girlfriend and that this was the future she wanted for herself one day.The adaptation assignment had opened the door for Jem to queer a straight narrative, and she made a compelling case for her rewrite.

A contemporary teen romance: Frankly in Love
Thoughtful text selection is important when working with adolescent literature in the English classroom, including in teacher education.When selecting texts in the romance genre, consideration should be given to the portrayal of gender relations which avoid narrow stereotypes, inclusion and respectful representation of diverse cultural and sexual identities, and potential to promote appreciative and critical conversations.I have chosen to discuss an example of the contemporary teen romance genre: Frankly in Love, written by David Yoon, which explores the complexity of sociocultural and gender identities through the experience of protagonist Frank Li, in his final year of high school.
Frank, the narrator, begins by explaining the meaning of his American and Korean names, introducing his intercultural social position and identity.The romance element is a generative device for exploring the navigation of relationships in family and peer contexts.The complexity of navigating cultural relations in the romantic sphere is foreshadowed as Frank introduces his older sister Hanna.Despite doing 'everything right' by excelling academically, her choice of an African American boyfriend constitutes a challenge to her parents' values 'big enough to cancel out everything she did right her whole life' (p.4).She is rejected by her parents and is now living away from the family.
To further underline the challenges of dating outside one's community, Frank's childhood friend Joy, also Korean American, is seeing a Chinese American boy, Wu.Only a Korean boy will do for her parents, and he must be an academic high achiever unlike Wu, who is an athlete.To complete the set-up, Frank haplessly succumbs to the enthusiastic efforts of an American girl, Brit, to recruit him as a boyfriend and must hide this development from his parents.
The author, himself a Korean American, has created a social fabric into which threads of intersectional identities are woven (Thein et al., 2017).An example is chapter 12, titled 'Illuminating', which depicts a gathering of Korean families which occurs just after the SATs, the university entrance examination.To mark the occasion, Frank's father gives him a six pack of beer to share with his peers.
There is a moment, in which Frank registers the sounds of the older people playing 'yut nori': I can hear the sticks from down below, plinking with a clear, ancient sound that feels out of place here in modern-day suburbia.… I want to take my Tascam down there to record the beautiful, almost crystalline birch tone … (p.116) Every one of these monthly 'Gatherings' weaves Frank's Korean history and community into his identity, even though, as a suburban American teenager, he also lives with the dissonance of 'modern-day suburbia'.Underlining this liminal state, Frank refers to his Korean-American high school peers as the 'Limbos', a term which also refers to their being between past (school) and future (college).
Over the narrative, new insights emerge, which further complicate the romance plot.Frank gradually begins to understand that the Korean community is divided by social class and that his family is not amongst the privileged, while Joy's parents are at the top of the tree.To his parents, their son's connection to Joy means the family is rising in the social world, which puts even more pressure on Frank to maintain the faux romance.
The romance is no add-on.Rather, all the characters navigate attraction, dating, love, and break-ups within this intercultural social world.Yoon uses the stock devices of the romance genre to meaningfully explore identities and relationships.Secrets, for instance, are common devices used in the genre.Yoon appropriates this device to explore the dilemmas created when identities are only partially revealed, depending on the sociocultural context.
The classic 'first kiss' scene also appears.Together on a deserted beach, lit by the 'sparkles' of phosphorescent sea creatures, Frank prepares to sing a song he has composed especially for the occasion.He is conscious of the cliches and knows the scene is staged: Yoon deliberately explores the performative nature of teen romance culture as he takes us into Frank's ambivalent feelings for Brit.As with many other contemporary examples of the genre, the teen characters in this book are not simplistic mouthpieces for dominant discourses.Rather, characters reflect the complexities of life today, where social identities are formed within a network of mediations (Mattoni & Treré, 2014).Pressure to be authentic -to feel as one should -is complicated by the dissonant social contexts in which Frank and his peers live their lives.
Near the end of the novel, one final secret is revealed.Frank catches up with his best guy friend, Q, to say goodbye before they leave for different colleges.Q kisses Frank.In a moment of recognition and tenderness, Frank sees his friend in a new way: I wipe his tears with both my thumbs and study his face.I never noticed how fine it was, how lovely in shape.It is a face … that has the grace and strength to reveal the true self beneath.(p.396) Yoon has Frank respond with sadness and anger that his 'top chap' has had to hide such an important part of himself (2019, p. 396).This is a nod to the dominance of heteronormative assumptions in the adolescent social world.It could be argued, though, that allowing this secret to be revealed earlier would mean that Q's queer identity could have had a greater impact on the narrative arc.This is not a novel to choose for the serious treatment of queer adolescent experience.
This novel does, however, explore the social costs and rewards of revealing and concealing parts of selves, within a dynamic social and cultural context.As with many other contemporary teen romance novels, it brings to life thought-provoking and engaging characters and scenarios.Frankly in Love is just one in a dynamic field of adolescent romance literature which will reward English educators who give them a place in the classroom by opening 'windows and mirrors' on the complex experience of love, desire, and romance (Tschida et al., 2014, p. 36).

Working with teen (romance) fiction
Ensuring that the range of settings, characters, scenarios, and narratives is inclusive of the diversity of our communities is important.Contemporary teen romance increasingly offers this diversity.As McKnight warns, '[s]imply setting diverse texts' does not guarantee inclusivity and tokenism should be avoided (2018, p. 10).Participation settings in the classroom must support students to engage with diverse perspectives (Lightner & Wilkinson, 2016).This can be challenging if the model is one novel taught one way.Small reading groups, multiple novels, collaborative reading practices, and open-ended tasks are more conducive to students engaging with the literature and each other (Doecke & Mead, 2022;Lightner & Wilkinson, 2016).The sensitivity of some of the issues raised in this literature means that establishing protocols for respect and self-care is advisable.In the course described in this paper, students are encouraged to engage with authentic and impactful subject matter, but are also told they can be allocated an alternative text if experiencing distress.
Much of what can be said about the rationale for including the romance genre in the curriculum can be said about contemporary adolescent/YA fiction in general, which remains under-represented (Greig & Holloway, 2016;Little & Aglinskas, 2022).The high value placed on particular kinds of literary analysis and critique, together with assumptions about the kinds of texts that will enable such treatment, means that only a tiny percentage of the current published corpus makes its way into class.The dominance of the 'class novel' and the relegation of 'wider reading' to out-of-class independent reading time means that much of what students who read (if they do) is privatised.
Wilhelm identifies 'social pleasures' in students' accounts of their preferred reading practices.(2015, p. 35).These 'social pleasures' include 'using reading to connect to others' and 'using reading to name and identify yourself' (op.cit.).Connections to self and others are the stuff of romance novels.They encourage us to share in the fear, hesitation, surprise, daring, hurt, desire, elation, and self-discovery of first love and sexual exploration.Classic literature of course has some unforgettable love stories, but students also deserve to see their lives portrayed in the literature we teach.We can provide that opportunity without sacrificing quality or criticality.
Funding Open Access funding enabled and organized by CAUL and its Member Institutions.
Brit and I become familiar A-list stars in a classic romantic film everyone knows … I know what will happen next.Everyone knows.(p.157)The magic of the moment is further deflated by Brit supplying a scientific explanation for the phosphorescence: … tiny dinoflagellates … glow as a defensive response when they get tossed around.So their beauty isn't what it seems, because really they're undergoing trauma.(p.156)