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Young Center Books in Anabaptist and Pietist Studies
Thrill of the Chaste: The Allure of Amish Romance Novels
Take a peek beneath the bonnet. Browse the inspirational fiction section of your local bookstore, and you will likely find cover after cover depicting virtuous young women cloaked in modest dresses and wearing a pensive or playful expression. They hover innocently above sun-drenched pastures or rustic country lanes, often with a horse-drawn buggy in the background―or the occasional brawny stranger. Romance novels with Amish protagonists, such as the best-selling trailblazer The Shunning by Beverly Lewis, are becoming increasingly popular with a largely evangelical female audience. Thrill of the Chaste is the first book to analyze this growing trend in romance fiction and to place it into the context of contemporary literature, religion, and popular culture. Valerie Weaver-Zercher combines research and interviews with devoted readers, publishers, and authors to produce a lively and provocative examination of the Amish romance novel. She discusses strategies that literary agents and booksellers use to drive the genre’s popularity. By asking questions about authenticity, cultural appropriation, and commodification, Thrill of the Chaste also considers Amish fiction’s effects on Amish and non-Amish audiences alike.
339 pages, Unknown Binding
First published March 15, 2013
6 people are currently reading
278 people want to read
About the author
Valerie Weaver-Zercher
7 books11 followersValerie Weaver-Zercher is the author of Thrill of the Chaste: The Allure of Amish Romance Novels (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2013). Her writing has appeared in the Los Angeles Times, Chicago Tribune, Christian Science Monitor, Orion, The Christian Century, Christianity Today, Books & Culture, and other venues. Her work has also been nominated for and received special mention for a Pushcart Prize. She and her husband and three sons live in Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania.
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Displaying 1 - 28 of 28 reviews
November 2, 2013
This book provides a scholarly analysis of Amish romance novels, a genre that not many of my Goodreads.com friends are familiar with based upon the reviews I see posted. I don't read many of these novels, so why would I want to read a book like this? One thing I have in common with this author is being Mennonite with a family tree full of Amish ancestors. With this ancestral tie I may be exhibiting a defensive curiosity about how my Amish cousins are being characterized by the world of literature. The author Valerie Weaver-Zercher describes it thus:
The only books I’ve read (except for this) from this genre are Bevery Lewis’ “Heritage of Lancaster County” trilogy originally published in 1997. That satisfied my curiosity, and I didn’t think about it much until recently when I was in a Christian store (they don’t call them book stores anymore) and discovered a whole isle devoted exclusively to books that had front covers showing a young woman wearing a prayer covering (bonnet in the common vernacular). I was blown away by the volume and variety of books offered within that genre. According to the Los Angeles Review of Books, a new Amish romance novel hit the market every four days in 2012. The Wall Street Journal reports that the genre's top three authors have sold more than 24 million books. Most of this growth in popularity has been within the past five years.
The bulk of these sales are to white evangelical Christian women. They like the books for their "clean read" (no explicit sex), the devotional religious language (relationship with God concerns), and the emphasis on the simple life. You don't have to fit this demographic to enjoy the stories, so all types of people can be found who read them.
So this raises the question of how accurately the books describe Amish life. Regarding the descriptions of their work, family and community life, people who are knowledgeable on the subject can find plenty of little errors that most readers wouldn't care about. One example of this that I found humorous was the answer given by Linda Byler (the only widely read author who is actually Amish herself) to the question as to how accurate the picture on the cover of one of her novels was.
Continuing with the subject of accuracy, the book raises the question of whether it is proper for Christian evangelicals to superimpose their theology onto stories about the Amish community which they may or may not agree with it. The book doesn't provide a final judgment on that question. It's interesting to note that very few of the Amish romances acknowledge the traditional pacifism practiced by the Amish. Nor do they mention that Amish grade schools don't have an American flag inside. Nor do the books mention that the Amish students do not recite the pledge of allegiance. I guess those would be inconvenient truths for the conservative evangelicals.
Amish novels also give the impression that all Amish children attend small rural schools run by the Amish themselves whereas the truth is that over half of Amish children attend public schools. The books give the impression that all Amish men work on their farms. The truth is today that over half of Amish men have full time non-farm jobs.
One parallel between the typical evangelical reader and the Amish world depicted by the books that I hadn’t considered before reading this book is fact that many evangelical reader’s have experienced rigid Fundamentalist rules in their past in ways similar to the fictional depiction of Amish who are chafing under the judgment of their rigid Ordnung. In reality the Amish Ordnung isn't as sinister as many novels suggest.
Another thought I had was that the popularity among conservative Christian evangelicals for home schooling their children in order to protect them from exposure to the outside world must surely have something in common with the desire of the Amish to live lives separate from the world. The reason for their plain dress is to show that separateness.
There are variations of the stereotypical novel described above. The author interviewed at least one author who had her books carry the message that the Amish are a cult with un-Christian practices and beliefs. There are also Amish murder mysteries and even Amish vampire novels.
I thought the book covered the subject of Amish romance novels with complete thoroughness. Nevertheless, at the end of the book the author suggests areas for possible future research and writing.
"I may also view Amish fiction with a misplaced sense of custodianship. Now that so many people, mostly non-Anabaptists, are writing about my ecclesial cousins, criticism from a Mennonite like me may reflect a knee-jerk mistrust of outsider writing about "my" people." (p247)This book provides a description of the history and nature of the genre as well as the motivations and types of readers who drive its sales. The thoroughly footnoted book is based upon research of related books and articles as well as interviews with authors, publishers and readers.
The only books I’ve read (except for this) from this genre are Bevery Lewis’ “Heritage of Lancaster County” trilogy originally published in 1997. That satisfied my curiosity, and I didn’t think about it much until recently when I was in a Christian store (they don’t call them book stores anymore) and discovered a whole isle devoted exclusively to books that had front covers showing a young woman wearing a prayer covering (bonnet in the common vernacular). I was blown away by the volume and variety of books offered within that genre. According to the Los Angeles Review of Books, a new Amish romance novel hit the market every four days in 2012. The Wall Street Journal reports that the genre's top three authors have sold more than 24 million books. Most of this growth in popularity has been within the past five years.
The bulk of these sales are to white evangelical Christian women. They like the books for their "clean read" (no explicit sex), the devotional religious language (relationship with God concerns), and the emphasis on the simple life. You don't have to fit this demographic to enjoy the stories, so all types of people can be found who read them.
So this raises the question of how accurately the books describe Amish life. Regarding the descriptions of their work, family and community life, people who are knowledgeable on the subject can find plenty of little errors that most readers wouldn't care about. One example of this that I found humorous was the answer given by Linda Byler (the only widely read author who is actually Amish herself) to the question as to how accurate the picture on the cover of one of her novels was.
" 'Well, the cape? Oh my, it's pitiful how they put that on.' She points out some error in how the model's Halsduch is draped, some false angle or scrunched-up lay of the fabric. I can't quite follow her explanation, and she acknowledges that it would seem a minor detail to an English person like me." (p195)The above quote reminds me of the how bizarre the use of the term "English" to refer to anybody who isn't Amish must be to most readers. It's a term I grew up with, but it must surely lead to confusion for some readers of this book. The author early in the book provides a footnote that clearly explains the meaning of the word as used in this book. But I'm sure there are some who will miss that footnote and wonder why there are so many English in Lancaster County. The Amish speak Pennsylvania German in their homes, so it's logical for them to refer to those who don't as English (i.e. speakers of English).
Continuing with the subject of accuracy, the book raises the question of whether it is proper for Christian evangelicals to superimpose their theology onto stories about the Amish community which they may or may not agree with it. The book doesn't provide a final judgment on that question. It's interesting to note that very few of the Amish romances acknowledge the traditional pacifism practiced by the Amish. Nor do they mention that Amish grade schools don't have an American flag inside. Nor do the books mention that the Amish students do not recite the pledge of allegiance. I guess those would be inconvenient truths for the conservative evangelicals.
Amish novels also give the impression that all Amish children attend small rural schools run by the Amish themselves whereas the truth is that over half of Amish children attend public schools. The books give the impression that all Amish men work on their farms. The truth is today that over half of Amish men have full time non-farm jobs.
One parallel between the typical evangelical reader and the Amish world depicted by the books that I hadn’t considered before reading this book is fact that many evangelical reader’s have experienced rigid Fundamentalist rules in their past in ways similar to the fictional depiction of Amish who are chafing under the judgment of their rigid Ordnung. In reality the Amish Ordnung isn't as sinister as many novels suggest.
Another thought I had was that the popularity among conservative Christian evangelicals for home schooling their children in order to protect them from exposure to the outside world must surely have something in common with the desire of the Amish to live lives separate from the world. The reason for their plain dress is to show that separateness.
There are variations of the stereotypical novel described above. The author interviewed at least one author who had her books carry the message that the Amish are a cult with un-Christian practices and beliefs. There are also Amish murder mysteries and even Amish vampire novels.
I thought the book covered the subject of Amish romance novels with complete thoroughness. Nevertheless, at the end of the book the author suggests areas for possible future research and writing.
April 4, 2013
I recently was given a copy of the book "Thrill of the Chaste" by Valerie Weaver-Zercher, in exchange for visiting one of Dr. Donald Kraybill’s classes. I had known that Weaver-Zercher was studying Amish romance novels, so I looked forward to this publication, for I want to understand the reason for so much interest in this subgenre.
For anyone not familiar with Amish romance novels, they are those books you see in the Christian section of bookstores or in the gift shops of Amish-style restaurants with demure women in Amish garb, some leaning on fences in a pasture, others hovering above an Amish landscape, and still others with a male next to or behind her. Almost invariably, though, there is the proverbial Amish head covering. The reason for this was articulated by one publisher when he said, “You slap a bonnet on the cover and double the sales.”
A friend recently gave me her impression of walking into a restaurant with a rack full of Amish novels. She describes her impression, “This is Amish smut!” Given these are clean romances, without sex, or in most cases, without as much physical contact as lip-kissing, this is an interesting impression, but one I share.
The content of these books are formulaic: the protagonist grows up Amish, she arrives at a place in her life (usually through a crisis) in which she questions the Amish faith, and then she has a conversion experience and becomes a born-again Christian. Somewhere along the line, there is a romance, often one in which she has to choose between an Amish boyfriend and an English one. These stories invariably end happily.
Weaver-Zercher has a humorous description of her friend, Margaret’s, reaction to her research when she tried to explain what she was studying.
… she is intrigued and a little confused. Like several other people with whom I spoke, she thinks at first that I am writing an Amish romance novel. No, I clarify; I am writing about them.
“So let me get this straight.” Margaret pauses, her forefinger raised above her chicken and rice. “You are writing about us, who are reading the books that other people write about the Amish.” It is obvious that this project strikes her as a tad funny, amusing in both its degrees of separation from the Amish and the endless ripples of research it suggests. [Pg. 231]
I enjoyed Weaver-Zercher’s wit throughout the book. She describes her own enjoyment of reading the books this way, “Eager to keep reading my latest Amish romance but unwilling to admit it, I would sometimes tuck the book under my sweatshirt when going to the gym or under a notebook when entering a doctor’s waiting room. … The deeper I got into this project, the more fascinated I became by the surreptitious nature of my Amish romance reading.” I felt like she left me hanging on this question. Perhaps answering this question for herself might have given her insights into the “typical” reader’s interest in these books. She does give us several good insights as it is. One she terms hypermodernity. “The speed, anomie, and digital slavery of contemporary life have sent many readers, weary of hypermodernity, to books containing stories of a people group whom readers perceive as hypermodernity’s antithesis: the Amish.” The other term she uses is hypersexualization in which “sexual discourse, erotica, and pornography are present in almost all aspects of society.” She wrote, “The exponential growth of Amish fiction during the first decade of the twenty-first century cannot be understood apart from these “hyper” cultural developments.”
And when Weaver-Zercher mentions exponential growth, she is not joking. She gives us an idea of the astounding growth of the Amish romance novels in the publishing market:
Sales numbers and bestseller lists confirm the vigor of the Amish-fiction category. The triumvirate of top Amish romance novelists—Beverly Lewis, Wanda Brunstetter, and Cindy Woodsmall—have sold a combined total of 24 million books. At least seven of Lewis’s Amish novels have sold more than 500,000 copies each, and one of those, The Shunning, has sold more than 1 million copies. Brunstetter’s fifty books, almost all of them Amish titles, have sold nearly 6 million copies. [Pg. 5]
I agree that hypermodernity and hypersexualization are two reasons why people are drawn to the Amish in general and to the Amish romance novels in particular. I would add another aspect, which Weaver-Zercher named but did not define or give as much attention as the other two: hyperindividualism. I feel this cannot be underestimated. In mainstream culture, we are taught that if we want something badly enough we can either achieve it or acquire it. We think if only we had enough money, then we could have anything we want. We isolate ourselves with screens in front of our faces how many hours per day? For however long it is, we are not interacting with other people during that time, which means we’re sacrificing community. We cannot possibly have meaningful interpersonal interactions in a community setting and be in our own world, too. People try, but they don’t succeed.
It seems unplugging and living a simpler life is not as easy as reading an Amish romance novel.
Weaver-Zercher’s best example of this phenomenon is Suzanne Woods Fisher, host of the Toginet Radio show Amish Wisdom, who invites her listeners to “slow down, de-clutter, find peace, and live a simpler life” each Thursday afternoon. However, Fisher’s life is anything but simple. She is the author of numerous Amish books and is contracted with her publisher, Revell, through 2016. In 2012, she had ten books on the market with eleven in the works. In one particular busy stretch, five of her books appeared in seven months. She writes them at about the rate of one every three to four months.
Besides being a radio host and author, Fisher is mother of four children and she has a little grandchild, a dad with Alzheimers and a mother who needs lots of help. Her husband is a finance executive who travels frequently. It is Fisher’s hypothesis that Amish fiction is “a response to the feeling people have of being out of control with technology and change that is coming so fast. The feeling that you have a cell phone and you are never off the hook, you are responsible to be available all the time—it’s just overwhelming. I think there’s a longing for a life in which you’re unhooked and detached, and we can’t do it; it’s too hard.”
The irony of “fast texts about a slow culture” is not lost on Weaver-Zercher. Several authors are contracted to write at least two books per year, besides Fisher writing at least three per year. So the people who want to read Amish books to fantasize about slowing down their lives are causing the already hyper capitalist publishing industry to go into overdrive. This is one of those incongruities of Amish romances.
I thought that Beverly Lewis pioneered the Amish romance novel when she wrote The Shunning back in 1997. However, Weaver-Zercher points out that there were several antecedents, including "Sabina: A Story of the Amish" by Helen Reimensnyder Martin published as early as 1905. She names at least five others. From reading Thrill of the Chaste, it is clear that Beverly Lewis came out with "The Shunning" at the right time—the market was ripe for an Amish story.
As I was reading "Thrill of the Chaste," I kept feeling that Weaver-Zercher was missing something vital in her study. I wanted, in the worst way, for her to analyze the accuracy, or more precisely, the authenticity of the Amish romance novels. Finally, on page 197 (of her 250-page book), she addresses this when she writes: “To what extent terms like authenticity and accuracy even matter to most readers of Amish fiction is uncertain.” A paragraph later, she writes that the most frequent inquiry she received from people is how accurate are these novels. I would assert that if this was her most frequent inquiry, then it does matter to people. And then the truth comes out in her description of her response, “Whenever anyone asked me whether Amish novels are accurate… I usually mumbled something vague and entirely unhelpful…. I doubt I gave anyone the answer they were looking for, partly because I wanted to argue with the question.”
It seems the reader may not have gotten any idea of Weaver-Zercher’s feelings about authenticity in the Amish novel, had it not been for her friend Richard Stevick, who one day told her she must deal with this question of accuracy.
And so for the following chapter, "Something Borrowed, Something True," Weaver-Zercher finally does write about the lack of authenticity of some of these stories, though she often puts the criticism in others’ voices, including mine. (She quoted from my blog post "Amish Fiction").
Weaver-Zercher then asserts that most inaccuracies are generally invisible to anyone outside a relatively small crowd of Anabaptists or their friends, and that it is likely that Amish fiction clears up more popular misconceptions about the Amish than it creates. And then she asks, “And if readers walk away thinking that the Amish in Lancaster County drive black buggies instead of gray, or that Amish people write letters in Pennsylvania German rather than English, has any real harm been done?”
Then Weaver-Zercher writes, “novelists cannot be released from all responsibility to the actual world, however, especially when they’re writing stories about a living ethnic and religious culture to which they and most of their readers do not belong. Representing one culture to another comes with a host of ethical responsibilities, and the ancillary dangers—circulation of misinformation, appropriation of cultural symbols, assertion of control—are many.”
This would have been a wonderful passage with which to start a book about Amish romance novels, but that would be a whole different book. Being it is so close to the end of the book, it hasn’t been part of the discussion from the start. I find it so very inadequate and incomplete.
I would say no, there isn’t any real harm done with the inaccuracies of the different color buggies or what language letters are written in. But when an author and her readers superimpose their values on the Amish, then I believe there is real harm done. Because I am not writing a book-length review, I will focus on one real way I feel harm is done.
In these novels, the protagonists become a born-again Christian, and by doing so, they are now saved through Jesus Christ, something the “works-based” or “rules-based” Amish religion could not do, is the implication.
According to Weaver-Zercher, some of the upcoming Amish fiction will be super-charged with this message. One author said that she is writing Amish fiction, “To expose the Amish lifestyle as, not Christian, but a cult. They are a community of ‘works get you to heaven,’ not salvation through Jesus’ atoning work on the cross alone.”
I groaned when I read this. During my book talks, I have encountered people in my audiences who ask, “Do the Amish believe in good works?“ Or something similar, “Is the Amish religion faith-based or works-based?” To which I will reply, “Both.” Sometimes they think I misunderstood the question and rephrase it, “Well, what I mean is, do they believe in salvation through Jesus Christ or through good works?” To which I will again reply, “Both. They definitely believe that Jesus died on the cross so that they may have everlasting life, but they also believe that following Jesus’ example in doing good is important in their life on earth.”
One day on our way home from a book talk my husband, David, asked, “What is wrong with good works anyway?” My guess is that many born-again Christians would say that if you believe in good works, then that excludes the belief that Jesus is your Savior. What they don’t realize is just how much they are misunderstanding the culture they are judging and that it doesn’t have to be one or the other and by thinking it is, they are limiting themselves from gaining a better understanding of the Amish people and their tenets.
Another deep misunderstanding in Amish romance novels, when a protagonist decides she needs to leave the Amish she does so with apparent ease. What they miss completely is something so obvious to someone who has left the Amish… no matter the reason for leaving or how sure we are that the decision we made is right, we all have to deal with the loss of community that comes of leaving. For an example of the turmoil that one feels when caught between two worlds, you can read my earlier posts Anna’s Return, and A Letter from Anna.
It is tempting to blame the Amish for shunning their family members who leave. But they would not be Amish if they didn’t use shunning as a church discipline. I believe that the cohesion in a given community is commensurate with the level of sacrifice and effort people need to make to be a part of that community. The Amish have a sense of community the rest of us can only admire or envy. They value community over the individual, which is the reverse of our culture in which individual freedom (often in excess) is valued over community. And the Amish teach that you are either Amish or you’re not—there is no in between. A person just cannot have it all.
This is one way in which I feel the Amish are completely misunderstood by the authors of Amish romance novels. I will save the misrepresentation of what they call “pow-wowing” for another day. And rumspringa—I’ve already written extensively on that.
Weaver-Zercher writes about the Amish romance novel transporting the reader to Amish country, “Now, thanks to Amish fiction, America’s own exotic but homespun religionists are as close as the book on the bedside stand.”
I would argue that the Amish romance novels feed the American fantasy that we can have it all—we can keep up the fast pace of our lives and at the end of the day, we can pick up a book and be transported to the rural landscape of Amish country—all without sacrificing anything aside from the time it takes to read the book. It seems to me that this is as momentary as eating candy… it tastes good, but there is no lasting nourishment in consuming it. Furthermore, there is something wrong with appropriating the Amish culture for our amusement.
I wish Weaver-Zercher would have addressed one very important point. The authors of Amish fiction want to have it both ways—they want to use the Amish culture as backdrop for their novels, while at the same time judging the Amish beliefs as being inadequate for their salvation. Furthermore, they are making a personal fortune by doing so. You don’t have to be born and raised Amish to understand these incongruities.
If I didn’t have to read a bunch of the novels that would certainly give me literary indigestion, I might want to write a book about the myriad of ways in which the Amish are misunderstood, misrepresented, exploited, and appropriated in Amish romance novels and how they set the stage for even greater lies about the Amish culture in reality shows like “Breaking Amish” and “The Amish Mafia.”
Weaver-Zercher’s book "Thrill of the Chaste" is a good first step in understanding our fascination with the Amish. I would assert that there are deeper reasons for this fascination. We know, deep down, we need something that the Amish have. To be a part of an Amish community, one has to practice self-denial, humility, and austerity and yet we, of the world, don’t want to deny ourselves anything. We sense the divinity in Amish people and even how they achieve it, but we refuse to follow their example. In Suzanne Woods Fisher’s words, “It’s just too hard.”
For anyone not familiar with Amish romance novels, they are those books you see in the Christian section of bookstores or in the gift shops of Amish-style restaurants with demure women in Amish garb, some leaning on fences in a pasture, others hovering above an Amish landscape, and still others with a male next to or behind her. Almost invariably, though, there is the proverbial Amish head covering. The reason for this was articulated by one publisher when he said, “You slap a bonnet on the cover and double the sales.”
A friend recently gave me her impression of walking into a restaurant with a rack full of Amish novels. She describes her impression, “This is Amish smut!” Given these are clean romances, without sex, or in most cases, without as much physical contact as lip-kissing, this is an interesting impression, but one I share.
The content of these books are formulaic: the protagonist grows up Amish, she arrives at a place in her life (usually through a crisis) in which she questions the Amish faith, and then she has a conversion experience and becomes a born-again Christian. Somewhere along the line, there is a romance, often one in which she has to choose between an Amish boyfriend and an English one. These stories invariably end happily.
Weaver-Zercher has a humorous description of her friend, Margaret’s, reaction to her research when she tried to explain what she was studying.
… she is intrigued and a little confused. Like several other people with whom I spoke, she thinks at first that I am writing an Amish romance novel. No, I clarify; I am writing about them.
“So let me get this straight.” Margaret pauses, her forefinger raised above her chicken and rice. “You are writing about us, who are reading the books that other people write about the Amish.” It is obvious that this project strikes her as a tad funny, amusing in both its degrees of separation from the Amish and the endless ripples of research it suggests. [Pg. 231]
I enjoyed Weaver-Zercher’s wit throughout the book. She describes her own enjoyment of reading the books this way, “Eager to keep reading my latest Amish romance but unwilling to admit it, I would sometimes tuck the book under my sweatshirt when going to the gym or under a notebook when entering a doctor’s waiting room. … The deeper I got into this project, the more fascinated I became by the surreptitious nature of my Amish romance reading.” I felt like she left me hanging on this question. Perhaps answering this question for herself might have given her insights into the “typical” reader’s interest in these books. She does give us several good insights as it is. One she terms hypermodernity. “The speed, anomie, and digital slavery of contemporary life have sent many readers, weary of hypermodernity, to books containing stories of a people group whom readers perceive as hypermodernity’s antithesis: the Amish.” The other term she uses is hypersexualization in which “sexual discourse, erotica, and pornography are present in almost all aspects of society.” She wrote, “The exponential growth of Amish fiction during the first decade of the twenty-first century cannot be understood apart from these “hyper” cultural developments.”
And when Weaver-Zercher mentions exponential growth, she is not joking. She gives us an idea of the astounding growth of the Amish romance novels in the publishing market:
Sales numbers and bestseller lists confirm the vigor of the Amish-fiction category. The triumvirate of top Amish romance novelists—Beverly Lewis, Wanda Brunstetter, and Cindy Woodsmall—have sold a combined total of 24 million books. At least seven of Lewis’s Amish novels have sold more than 500,000 copies each, and one of those, The Shunning, has sold more than 1 million copies. Brunstetter’s fifty books, almost all of them Amish titles, have sold nearly 6 million copies. [Pg. 5]
I agree that hypermodernity and hypersexualization are two reasons why people are drawn to the Amish in general and to the Amish romance novels in particular. I would add another aspect, which Weaver-Zercher named but did not define or give as much attention as the other two: hyperindividualism. I feel this cannot be underestimated. In mainstream culture, we are taught that if we want something badly enough we can either achieve it or acquire it. We think if only we had enough money, then we could have anything we want. We isolate ourselves with screens in front of our faces how many hours per day? For however long it is, we are not interacting with other people during that time, which means we’re sacrificing community. We cannot possibly have meaningful interpersonal interactions in a community setting and be in our own world, too. People try, but they don’t succeed.
It seems unplugging and living a simpler life is not as easy as reading an Amish romance novel.
Weaver-Zercher’s best example of this phenomenon is Suzanne Woods Fisher, host of the Toginet Radio show Amish Wisdom, who invites her listeners to “slow down, de-clutter, find peace, and live a simpler life” each Thursday afternoon. However, Fisher’s life is anything but simple. She is the author of numerous Amish books and is contracted with her publisher, Revell, through 2016. In 2012, she had ten books on the market with eleven in the works. In one particular busy stretch, five of her books appeared in seven months. She writes them at about the rate of one every three to four months.
Besides being a radio host and author, Fisher is mother of four children and she has a little grandchild, a dad with Alzheimers and a mother who needs lots of help. Her husband is a finance executive who travels frequently. It is Fisher’s hypothesis that Amish fiction is “a response to the feeling people have of being out of control with technology and change that is coming so fast. The feeling that you have a cell phone and you are never off the hook, you are responsible to be available all the time—it’s just overwhelming. I think there’s a longing for a life in which you’re unhooked and detached, and we can’t do it; it’s too hard.”
The irony of “fast texts about a slow culture” is not lost on Weaver-Zercher. Several authors are contracted to write at least two books per year, besides Fisher writing at least three per year. So the people who want to read Amish books to fantasize about slowing down their lives are causing the already hyper capitalist publishing industry to go into overdrive. This is one of those incongruities of Amish romances.
I thought that Beverly Lewis pioneered the Amish romance novel when she wrote The Shunning back in 1997. However, Weaver-Zercher points out that there were several antecedents, including "Sabina: A Story of the Amish" by Helen Reimensnyder Martin published as early as 1905. She names at least five others. From reading Thrill of the Chaste, it is clear that Beverly Lewis came out with "The Shunning" at the right time—the market was ripe for an Amish story.
As I was reading "Thrill of the Chaste," I kept feeling that Weaver-Zercher was missing something vital in her study. I wanted, in the worst way, for her to analyze the accuracy, or more precisely, the authenticity of the Amish romance novels. Finally, on page 197 (of her 250-page book), she addresses this when she writes: “To what extent terms like authenticity and accuracy even matter to most readers of Amish fiction is uncertain.” A paragraph later, she writes that the most frequent inquiry she received from people is how accurate are these novels. I would assert that if this was her most frequent inquiry, then it does matter to people. And then the truth comes out in her description of her response, “Whenever anyone asked me whether Amish novels are accurate… I usually mumbled something vague and entirely unhelpful…. I doubt I gave anyone the answer they were looking for, partly because I wanted to argue with the question.”
It seems the reader may not have gotten any idea of Weaver-Zercher’s feelings about authenticity in the Amish novel, had it not been for her friend Richard Stevick, who one day told her she must deal with this question of accuracy.
And so for the following chapter, "Something Borrowed, Something True," Weaver-Zercher finally does write about the lack of authenticity of some of these stories, though she often puts the criticism in others’ voices, including mine. (She quoted from my blog post "Amish Fiction").
Weaver-Zercher then asserts that most inaccuracies are generally invisible to anyone outside a relatively small crowd of Anabaptists or their friends, and that it is likely that Amish fiction clears up more popular misconceptions about the Amish than it creates. And then she asks, “And if readers walk away thinking that the Amish in Lancaster County drive black buggies instead of gray, or that Amish people write letters in Pennsylvania German rather than English, has any real harm been done?”
Then Weaver-Zercher writes, “novelists cannot be released from all responsibility to the actual world, however, especially when they’re writing stories about a living ethnic and religious culture to which they and most of their readers do not belong. Representing one culture to another comes with a host of ethical responsibilities, and the ancillary dangers—circulation of misinformation, appropriation of cultural symbols, assertion of control—are many.”
This would have been a wonderful passage with which to start a book about Amish romance novels, but that would be a whole different book. Being it is so close to the end of the book, it hasn’t been part of the discussion from the start. I find it so very inadequate and incomplete.
I would say no, there isn’t any real harm done with the inaccuracies of the different color buggies or what language letters are written in. But when an author and her readers superimpose their values on the Amish, then I believe there is real harm done. Because I am not writing a book-length review, I will focus on one real way I feel harm is done.
In these novels, the protagonists become a born-again Christian, and by doing so, they are now saved through Jesus Christ, something the “works-based” or “rules-based” Amish religion could not do, is the implication.
According to Weaver-Zercher, some of the upcoming Amish fiction will be super-charged with this message. One author said that she is writing Amish fiction, “To expose the Amish lifestyle as, not Christian, but a cult. They are a community of ‘works get you to heaven,’ not salvation through Jesus’ atoning work on the cross alone.”
I groaned when I read this. During my book talks, I have encountered people in my audiences who ask, “Do the Amish believe in good works?“ Or something similar, “Is the Amish religion faith-based or works-based?” To which I will reply, “Both.” Sometimes they think I misunderstood the question and rephrase it, “Well, what I mean is, do they believe in salvation through Jesus Christ or through good works?” To which I will again reply, “Both. They definitely believe that Jesus died on the cross so that they may have everlasting life, but they also believe that following Jesus’ example in doing good is important in their life on earth.”
One day on our way home from a book talk my husband, David, asked, “What is wrong with good works anyway?” My guess is that many born-again Christians would say that if you believe in good works, then that excludes the belief that Jesus is your Savior. What they don’t realize is just how much they are misunderstanding the culture they are judging and that it doesn’t have to be one or the other and by thinking it is, they are limiting themselves from gaining a better understanding of the Amish people and their tenets.
Another deep misunderstanding in Amish romance novels, when a protagonist decides she needs to leave the Amish she does so with apparent ease. What they miss completely is something so obvious to someone who has left the Amish… no matter the reason for leaving or how sure we are that the decision we made is right, we all have to deal with the loss of community that comes of leaving. For an example of the turmoil that one feels when caught between two worlds, you can read my earlier posts Anna’s Return, and A Letter from Anna.
It is tempting to blame the Amish for shunning their family members who leave. But they would not be Amish if they didn’t use shunning as a church discipline. I believe that the cohesion in a given community is commensurate with the level of sacrifice and effort people need to make to be a part of that community. The Amish have a sense of community the rest of us can only admire or envy. They value community over the individual, which is the reverse of our culture in which individual freedom (often in excess) is valued over community. And the Amish teach that you are either Amish or you’re not—there is no in between. A person just cannot have it all.
This is one way in which I feel the Amish are completely misunderstood by the authors of Amish romance novels. I will save the misrepresentation of what they call “pow-wowing” for another day. And rumspringa—I’ve already written extensively on that.
Weaver-Zercher writes about the Amish romance novel transporting the reader to Amish country, “Now, thanks to Amish fiction, America’s own exotic but homespun religionists are as close as the book on the bedside stand.”
I would argue that the Amish romance novels feed the American fantasy that we can have it all—we can keep up the fast pace of our lives and at the end of the day, we can pick up a book and be transported to the rural landscape of Amish country—all without sacrificing anything aside from the time it takes to read the book. It seems to me that this is as momentary as eating candy… it tastes good, but there is no lasting nourishment in consuming it. Furthermore, there is something wrong with appropriating the Amish culture for our amusement.
I wish Weaver-Zercher would have addressed one very important point. The authors of Amish fiction want to have it both ways—they want to use the Amish culture as backdrop for their novels, while at the same time judging the Amish beliefs as being inadequate for their salvation. Furthermore, they are making a personal fortune by doing so. You don’t have to be born and raised Amish to understand these incongruities.
If I didn’t have to read a bunch of the novels that would certainly give me literary indigestion, I might want to write a book about the myriad of ways in which the Amish are misunderstood, misrepresented, exploited, and appropriated in Amish romance novels and how they set the stage for even greater lies about the Amish culture in reality shows like “Breaking Amish” and “The Amish Mafia.”
Weaver-Zercher’s book "Thrill of the Chaste" is a good first step in understanding our fascination with the Amish. I would assert that there are deeper reasons for this fascination. We know, deep down, we need something that the Amish have. To be a part of an Amish community, one has to practice self-denial, humility, and austerity and yet we, of the world, don’t want to deny ourselves anything. We sense the divinity in Amish people and even how they achieve it, but we refuse to follow their example. In Suzanne Woods Fisher’s words, “It’s just too hard.”
June 5, 2013
This book knocked my socks off. You should know that I am more than casually interested in the subject. I am an American Studies scholar who finds sudden eruptions on the cultural scene, like the popularity of dime novels in the nineteenth century or of Amish fiction in the last five years, utterly fascinating. What makes a genre wax or wane? What does it say about the readers, authors, culture, and subject?
Did you know that every four days a new Amish fiction book rolls off the press? And that millions of these books are sold not just in tourist gift shops but also in Costco and Walmart stores?
Valerie Weaver-Zercher leaves no stone unturned, no hem unstitched, as she examines possible reasons for this phenomenon. Along the way she examines literary theory, religious history, cultural theory, and even theology. She is especially good at analyzing how Amish stories, images, and values are commodified by others and sold in the marketplace, sometimes with Amish complicity, but rarely at their initiation.
Weaver-Zercher doesn't just glide over theory; she immerses herself in one, then another, looking in all directions at Amish fiction and at both Amish and Evangelical Christian cultures (where the majority of the authors and readers locate themselves). The careful research exhibited here far exceeds that of some dissertations. The notes and bibliography take up fifty pages. And they are nearly as fascinating as the text.
This book could be just another academic postmodern treatise full of jargon and meta-everything. But it isn't. I found myself laughing at the droll description of the books and at the author's own mixed feelings about reading Amish fiction. The wit will win you over even if the theory seems alien. The humor is also not condescending but rather seeks to be fair and compassionate to every actor. The taut verbs and original metaphors jump off the page.
So what does the author conclude? The mass outpouring of these books arose post 9-11 in an anxious, hypermodern, and hypersexual culture. After the Amish schoolhouse shootings in 2006 brought the issue of forgiveness to worldwide attention, Amish people became even stronger, and more positive, icons, even as their practices and values seemed unattainable.
The few highly successful Amish fiction authors, especially Beverly Lewis and Wanda Brunstetter, who entered the field early, were joined by many more. Only one contemporary writer of Amish fiction, Linda Byler, is an Amish woman herself.
The evangelical writers emphasize a personal salvation that is familiar and yet alien to the Amish, whose theology is deeply communal. Amish theology is also radical in its interpretation of nonresistance (which others call pacifism), a theme that gets almost no emphasis in Amish fiction, possibly because it fits less well with the worldview of the authors and most readers.
I was encouraged, as a Mennonite memoirist, to know that now is a time in U. S. history when stories of Amish and Mennonite life resonate with conscious and unconscious needs within the larger culture. I was even more hopeful about the finding that readers are turning more and more to nonfiction as well as fiction. "Real-life" stories may eventually round out the picture that fiction began.
Did you know that every four days a new Amish fiction book rolls off the press? And that millions of these books are sold not just in tourist gift shops but also in Costco and Walmart stores?
Valerie Weaver-Zercher leaves no stone unturned, no hem unstitched, as she examines possible reasons for this phenomenon. Along the way she examines literary theory, religious history, cultural theory, and even theology. She is especially good at analyzing how Amish stories, images, and values are commodified by others and sold in the marketplace, sometimes with Amish complicity, but rarely at their initiation.
Weaver-Zercher doesn't just glide over theory; she immerses herself in one, then another, looking in all directions at Amish fiction and at both Amish and Evangelical Christian cultures (where the majority of the authors and readers locate themselves). The careful research exhibited here far exceeds that of some dissertations. The notes and bibliography take up fifty pages. And they are nearly as fascinating as the text.
This book could be just another academic postmodern treatise full of jargon and meta-everything. But it isn't. I found myself laughing at the droll description of the books and at the author's own mixed feelings about reading Amish fiction. The wit will win you over even if the theory seems alien. The humor is also not condescending but rather seeks to be fair and compassionate to every actor. The taut verbs and original metaphors jump off the page.
So what does the author conclude? The mass outpouring of these books arose post 9-11 in an anxious, hypermodern, and hypersexual culture. After the Amish schoolhouse shootings in 2006 brought the issue of forgiveness to worldwide attention, Amish people became even stronger, and more positive, icons, even as their practices and values seemed unattainable.
The few highly successful Amish fiction authors, especially Beverly Lewis and Wanda Brunstetter, who entered the field early, were joined by many more. Only one contemporary writer of Amish fiction, Linda Byler, is an Amish woman herself.
The evangelical writers emphasize a personal salvation that is familiar and yet alien to the Amish, whose theology is deeply communal. Amish theology is also radical in its interpretation of nonresistance (which others call pacifism), a theme that gets almost no emphasis in Amish fiction, possibly because it fits less well with the worldview of the authors and most readers.
I was encouraged, as a Mennonite memoirist, to know that now is a time in U. S. history when stories of Amish and Mennonite life resonate with conscious and unconscious needs within the larger culture. I was even more hopeful about the finding that readers are turning more and more to nonfiction as well as fiction. "Real-life" stories may eventually round out the picture that fiction began.
May 23, 2013
This is a book I would have loved to write myself. Well-researched, interesting, information, great writing style, and I learned a lot about Amish romance, but also Christian publishing, evangelicalism, literary theory, and postcolonialism, too.
February 29, 2016
When they [the author's friends] heard about my research, many would smirk and crack Amish-themed bedroom jokes ("Wouldst thou untie thy covering strings?") or offer title suggestions for the Amish novel they think someone should write (Amish Girls Gone Wild). (69)
I'm really sorry to have finished this book, because it made for an excellent conversation piece: 'So I'm reading this book about Amish romance novels...'
Better, though, it's just a really good book all round. Weaver-Zercher is not, by her own admission, normally a reader of Amish romance (though she read plenty as research), but she takes a very balanced view of both the books and their readers. Take this:
My friend Jenell is a white feminist academic who votes Democrat, reads books on spirituality by a Buddhist-informed Quaker, and knows how to choose the pitch-perfect swear word. She is also an evangelical Christian. Bishop T. D. Jakes is an evangelical Christian, too. Jakes, who is African American, is pastor of a thirty-thousand-member church based in Dallas, Texas. With an evident taste for designer suits, Jakes reigns over a media empire that includes a record label, feature films, plays, books, and a sitcom. Thousands of miles away from Jakes's congregation, in northwestern Ohio, my cousin Lois is homeschooling her children. She wears skirts, covers her head when she goes to church, and picks berries and apples to preserve for winter. Evangelical? Definitely. (57)
Weaver-Zercher is talking about religion there, not Amish romance (it's relevant; more on that in a moment), but it's a good illustration of the way she approaches the topic of Amish romance readers: that it's not a one-size-fits-all proposition.
On Amish romance and religion: it's an odd duck of a subgenre, because most Amish romance is not written by or for Amish readers; rather, it's written by and for an evangelical audience (one of the first—of the very few—Amish romances I've read featured a heroine who became a Mennonite by the end of the book; I understand that this is not uncommon in the subgenre). How can books that, on the one hand, sanctify the Amish also question whether the Amish are even Christian? asks Weaver-Zercher. How can a sectarian religious group be viewed as both model and mission field? Nonpareil but not necessarily going to heaven? Worthy of emulation but requiring of prayers for their salvation? (119) On the one hand the Amish are held up as models of simplicity and virtue and so on; on the other hand some Christian groups don't consider them 'saved' because they don't talk about religion in the same ways that those other groups do.
But oh, this book. Academic and enlightening and highly entertaining, all at once:
Several of the Amish people with whom I spoke dismissed the books on literary grounds. Sitting outside on a warm June evening, holding her son on her lap, a young Amish mother in Ohio who taught school for eight years is eager to chat about her favorite novels by Barbara Kingsolver and James Herriott. When I ask her about Amish romance novels, she talks first about the plot weaknesses of the ones she has read and then tells me her theory of why they're so popular: "They're light reading," she says, then raises her eyebrows significantly and leans forward. "You sure never have to go for the dictionary." (188)
When I ask [another interview subject] whether her friends and family read Amish novels, she says no. "They're big fans of Karen Kingsbury and Francine Rivers," she says. "My mother reads and reads and reads them. But they don't read Amish." And although she hasn't heard of anyone in her community who loves Amish fiction, she says that her mother and several other older women have begun passing around Danielle Steel novels—a revelation that makes her daughter, who is sipping tea, clap a hand over her mouth and slap the table in silent mirth. (189)
But Weaver-Zercher doesn't spend the book bashing Amish romance. She raises significant questions about the genre—questions about authenticity and accuracy and cultural appropriation—but she also argues that the value of particular kinds of literature is contextual. When readers are looking for a good story, how much do they care about its facticity? And what does it even mean to say that a novel is authentic or accurate? What measure of fact is required of fiction, and how beholden are makers of fictional worlds to the vagaries of the real one? (197) But not just in terms of fact and fiction. It's also a question of taste and what the readers are getting out of it and so on and so forth.
Also! Look: This is the same book as this, just repackaged (and retitled). There's an evolution of market for you. And now I'm terribly curious about Almost Amish, for no good reason except that it seems so incongruous.
I'll leave you with this:
...a February 2011 article about Amish fiction in Publishers Weekly began with this "Recipe for an Amish Novel":
Take
One young woman (Sarah, Katie, or Rebecca).
One young man (Jacob, Daniel, Samuel).
Add one, or more, problems:
Someone is 21 and unmarried.
Someone has a family secret.
Someone is tempted by life outside the Amish community.
Someone's heart has been broken.
Mix together with one Daed, one Mamm, assorted siblings.
(Optional: add grossdawdi and/or grossmammi).
Bake together for 352 pages till resolved.
Garnish with Pennsylvania Dutch glossary or recipes or quilt pattern. (73–74)
I'm really sorry to have finished this book, because it made for an excellent conversation piece: 'So I'm reading this book about Amish romance novels...'
Better, though, it's just a really good book all round. Weaver-Zercher is not, by her own admission, normally a reader of Amish romance (though she read plenty as research), but she takes a very balanced view of both the books and their readers. Take this:
My friend Jenell is a white feminist academic who votes Democrat, reads books on spirituality by a Buddhist-informed Quaker, and knows how to choose the pitch-perfect swear word. She is also an evangelical Christian. Bishop T. D. Jakes is an evangelical Christian, too. Jakes, who is African American, is pastor of a thirty-thousand-member church based in Dallas, Texas. With an evident taste for designer suits, Jakes reigns over a media empire that includes a record label, feature films, plays, books, and a sitcom. Thousands of miles away from Jakes's congregation, in northwestern Ohio, my cousin Lois is homeschooling her children. She wears skirts, covers her head when she goes to church, and picks berries and apples to preserve for winter. Evangelical? Definitely. (57)
Weaver-Zercher is talking about religion there, not Amish romance (it's relevant; more on that in a moment), but it's a good illustration of the way she approaches the topic of Amish romance readers: that it's not a one-size-fits-all proposition.
On Amish romance and religion: it's an odd duck of a subgenre, because most Amish romance is not written by or for Amish readers; rather, it's written by and for an evangelical audience (one of the first—of the very few—Amish romances I've read featured a heroine who became a Mennonite by the end of the book; I understand that this is not uncommon in the subgenre). How can books that, on the one hand, sanctify the Amish also question whether the Amish are even Christian? asks Weaver-Zercher. How can a sectarian religious group be viewed as both model and mission field? Nonpareil but not necessarily going to heaven? Worthy of emulation but requiring of prayers for their salvation? (119) On the one hand the Amish are held up as models of simplicity and virtue and so on; on the other hand some Christian groups don't consider them 'saved' because they don't talk about religion in the same ways that those other groups do.
But oh, this book. Academic and enlightening and highly entertaining, all at once:
Several of the Amish people with whom I spoke dismissed the books on literary grounds. Sitting outside on a warm June evening, holding her son on her lap, a young Amish mother in Ohio who taught school for eight years is eager to chat about her favorite novels by Barbara Kingsolver and James Herriott. When I ask her about Amish romance novels, she talks first about the plot weaknesses of the ones she has read and then tells me her theory of why they're so popular: "They're light reading," she says, then raises her eyebrows significantly and leans forward. "You sure never have to go for the dictionary." (188)
When I ask [another interview subject] whether her friends and family read Amish novels, she says no. "They're big fans of Karen Kingsbury and Francine Rivers," she says. "My mother reads and reads and reads them. But they don't read Amish." And although she hasn't heard of anyone in her community who loves Amish fiction, she says that her mother and several other older women have begun passing around Danielle Steel novels—a revelation that makes her daughter, who is sipping tea, clap a hand over her mouth and slap the table in silent mirth. (189)
But Weaver-Zercher doesn't spend the book bashing Amish romance. She raises significant questions about the genre—questions about authenticity and accuracy and cultural appropriation—but she also argues that the value of particular kinds of literature is contextual. When readers are looking for a good story, how much do they care about its facticity? And what does it even mean to say that a novel is authentic or accurate? What measure of fact is required of fiction, and how beholden are makers of fictional worlds to the vagaries of the real one? (197) But not just in terms of fact and fiction. It's also a question of taste and what the readers are getting out of it and so on and so forth.
Also! Look: This is the same book as this, just repackaged (and retitled). There's an evolution of market for you. And now I'm terribly curious about Almost Amish, for no good reason except that it seems so incongruous.
I'll leave you with this:
...a February 2011 article about Amish fiction in Publishers Weekly began with this "Recipe for an Amish Novel":
Take
One young woman (Sarah, Katie, or Rebecca).
One young man (Jacob, Daniel, Samuel).
Add one, or more, problems:
Someone is 21 and unmarried.
Someone has a family secret.
Someone is tempted by life outside the Amish community.
Someone's heart has been broken.
Mix together with one Daed, one Mamm, assorted siblings.
(Optional: add grossdawdi and/or grossmammi).
Bake together for 352 pages till resolved.
Garnish with Pennsylvania Dutch glossary or recipes or quilt pattern. (73–74)
Want to read
July 11, 2019A distillation is in an article by the author in the LA Review of Books: Bonnet Rippers: The Rise of the Amish Romance Novel
May 1, 2017
This book is Amazing... if you read Amish novels, and especially if you write Amish novels. The author researched her topic to the fullest, used creative metaphors, and gave honest yet compassionate critiques of Amish fiction writers. I don't see how a reader would fail to enjoy Valerie Weaver-Zercher sense of humor. I will say that this book delves into complex theories and at times I felt that the author is overthinking her topic. I will akin this work to a college textbook that examines: Why we love chocolate sundaes. Yet, I will say that I emerged from "Thrill of the Chaste" feeling as though I had just visited a wonderful therapist. I now understand more fully why I love chocolate sundaes and Amish novels.
January 10, 2014
Weaver-Zercher brings imagination, empathy, and critical acumen to this perceptive analysis of Amish novels. Literary theory often makes for a pretentious and clogged argument; in Thrill of the Chaste, the author uses it to illuminate her subject and broaden her arguments. Fascinating discussions of how readers shape meaning by our expectations and responses, and how fiction works on us. This book is a pleasure to read--thoughtful, provocative, and sparked with wit.
April 11, 2016
The book was well-searched but readable because of its narrative style. I interviewed the author, Valerie Weaver Zercher and posted it on my blog: http://plainandfancygirl.com/2013/11/...
March 18, 2014
I didn't finish this one because I had to return the book to the library. But, the first half of the book answered many of my questions about who is reading all of those Amish romances in the public library's Overdrive account.
March 1, 2014
Well researched.
January 10, 2019
"As a study of a subgenre of inspirational fiction about a people group that make up less that one-tenth of 1 percent of the U.S. population, this book has a very narrow purview." -The author, describing the book in the book.
Who needs 250 pages about the exponential growth in Amish-themed romantic fiction over the last decade? Most people are unaware of the trend. Any that are already have clear explanations (Christian women are repressed and want to read about other repressed women; it's nostalgia for a non-existent past; racially anxious readers can be sure that very few people of color will show up in Amish settlements). What the author does so well is moving beyond simple explanations of the trend by exploring in depth the history of the genre, who writes it, who it is written for, and its relationship with the real communities it attempts to portray.
I rarely consider media criticism to be page-turning material, but, like the novels it investigates, the book has a propulsive feel as layers of investigation build one upon the other. Now, since this is ultimately an academic work, there is no big reveal at the end. The author posits potential, defensible conclusions of varying degrees of cynicism. The real joy of the book is its pursuit of depth about a narrow subject. In doing so, the reader is able to reflect on how they too are tied to a trend that seemed foreign, that what is praised and indicted in the readership of Amish novels also likely connects to praises and indictments to be leveled at the reader.
Quite frankly, there is simply too much interesting material here for me to include in the review. Part of the delight of the book is the sense of exploring the subject in increasing depth with the author who makes the explicit choice to alternate between formal and personal writing to indicate her lack of omniscience and the personal nature of the investigation.
I've never read an Amish novel. It's entirely possible that I never will. But understanding how the trend became what it is and how it reflects the publishing industry and the wider culture is more than worth taking the time to delve into.
Who needs 250 pages about the exponential growth in Amish-themed romantic fiction over the last decade? Most people are unaware of the trend. Any that are already have clear explanations (Christian women are repressed and want to read about other repressed women; it's nostalgia for a non-existent past; racially anxious readers can be sure that very few people of color will show up in Amish settlements). What the author does so well is moving beyond simple explanations of the trend by exploring in depth the history of the genre, who writes it, who it is written for, and its relationship with the real communities it attempts to portray.
I rarely consider media criticism to be page-turning material, but, like the novels it investigates, the book has a propulsive feel as layers of investigation build one upon the other. Now, since this is ultimately an academic work, there is no big reveal at the end. The author posits potential, defensible conclusions of varying degrees of cynicism. The real joy of the book is its pursuit of depth about a narrow subject. In doing so, the reader is able to reflect on how they too are tied to a trend that seemed foreign, that what is praised and indicted in the readership of Amish novels also likely connects to praises and indictments to be leveled at the reader.
Quite frankly, there is simply too much interesting material here for me to include in the review. Part of the delight of the book is the sense of exploring the subject in increasing depth with the author who makes the explicit choice to alternate between formal and personal writing to indicate her lack of omniscience and the personal nature of the investigation.
I've never read an Amish novel. It's entirely possible that I never will. But understanding how the trend became what it is and how it reflects the publishing industry and the wider culture is more than worth taking the time to delve into.
January 27, 2024
I'm a hodge-podge of peace church ecumenicism. I'm a Quaker-shaped Mennonite getting mentored by a Church of the Brethren pastor for my ordination. I'm not sure how much more Anabapitst you can get than that.
From that context, I have never understood the full allure of Amish romance, and Valerie Weaver-Zercher made me connect the dots on why evangelicals are so confused to meet me when I'm so progressive and "modern." Nearly all of the confused ones I've met are frequent consumers of Amish romance.
It's weird, but it is what it is. Any way, would love to hear the author's thoughts on Women Talking and how that's impacted the market and perceptions of this genre. Absolutely a fantastic read and well-researched.
From that context, I have never understood the full allure of Amish romance, and Valerie Weaver-Zercher made me connect the dots on why evangelicals are so confused to meet me when I'm so progressive and "modern." Nearly all of the confused ones I've met are frequent consumers of Amish romance.
It's weird, but it is what it is. Any way, would love to hear the author's thoughts on Women Talking and how that's impacted the market and perceptions of this genre. Absolutely a fantastic read and well-researched.
August 7, 2024
Amish fiction is a literary phenomenon: stories of chaste romances in farming communities with bonnets, buggies, and and a taste for simple, plain living have taken the evangelical publishing world by storm. But the question is why? Why are these seemingly formulaic, predictable, plain romance novel is one of the biggest selling genres in American publishing?
Well it turns out that these Amish romance novels anything but plain and predictable. Much like the plain people themselves, there are a myriad of different styles, subgenres, and motives for writing these kinds of romances and this book is a surprisingly academic and detailed discussion of what makes these books so successful and why out of any number of different plots and characters, the Amish resonate so vividly and clearly with modern evangelicals.
This is both a detailed literary criticism of Amish romance fiction and its narrative tropes, plots, and characters, as well as a sociological study of the readers and writers of these books – both Amish and English. The writer is extremely fair towards the writers and readers of an often stigmatised genre of writing. Fiction for women and teenage girls is often looked down on, stigmatised, and mocked by the taste makers and trendsetters but these novels speak deeply to their readers – they speak of a life free from oversexualisation and overcommercialisation, they speak of Christian values in an increasingly non-Christian or secularised world, they are a vehicle for building and maintaining deeper relationships between these readers and between the readers and writers.
This is a fascinating look into the way modern America sees plain people and how they treat them both as the Other and as an integral part of a discussion on faith and community.
Well it turns out that these Amish romance novels anything but plain and predictable. Much like the plain people themselves, there are a myriad of different styles, subgenres, and motives for writing these kinds of romances and this book is a surprisingly academic and detailed discussion of what makes these books so successful and why out of any number of different plots and characters, the Amish resonate so vividly and clearly with modern evangelicals.
This is both a detailed literary criticism of Amish romance fiction and its narrative tropes, plots, and characters, as well as a sociological study of the readers and writers of these books – both Amish and English. The writer is extremely fair towards the writers and readers of an often stigmatised genre of writing. Fiction for women and teenage girls is often looked down on, stigmatised, and mocked by the taste makers and trendsetters but these novels speak deeply to their readers – they speak of a life free from oversexualisation and overcommercialisation, they speak of Christian values in an increasingly non-Christian or secularised world, they are a vehicle for building and maintaining deeper relationships between these readers and between the readers and writers.
This is a fascinating look into the way modern America sees plain people and how they treat them both as the Other and as an integral part of a discussion on faith and community.
February 21, 2021
Reading as background info for the podcast and this book was really interesting, well-researched, and informative. I will say that I skimmed over a lot of the literary theory stuff, and was far more drawn to her conversations around these books and gender roles, feminism, race, and evangelicalism. Hard to believe it's almost 10 years old and the amish romance phenomenon has just continued to grow. Would someday love a revised edition that gives an update.
September 30, 2019
This book exceeded my expectations. I was in Holmes county Ohio to run a half marathon when I popped into a local shop with many books about the Amish and Mennonites. This book caught my eye. Although I don’t read Amish romance novels, I have often been puzzled by the bookcases full of them at Target.
The author writes with a mix of conversation anecdata and scholarly research that conveys the point while not seeming to dry or esoteric. I feel like I have a greater understanding of the Amish, white Evangelicals, and the inspirational fiction genre since reading this book.
The author writes with a mix of conversation anecdata and scholarly research that conveys the point while not seeming to dry or esoteric. I feel like I have a greater understanding of the Amish, white Evangelicals, and the inspirational fiction genre since reading this book.
November 24, 2021
Fascinating and engaging deep dive into the popularity of Amish romance novels. I really learned a lot about the genre and was so interested in this entire book.
December 13, 2016
A very interesting and accessible discussion of Amish romance as a genre. The author does a good job of bringing up several angles of discussion; she doesn't draw many conclusions, but rather presents facts and possible arguments and lets readers decide where their own opinions fall. As such, the book is not overly critical or condemning of the genre, but it does bring up potentially problematic aspects such as inaccurate representations, cultural appropriation, and exploitation. Personally, I would have been interested to read a treatment that pushed a little harder and teased out a more thorough discussion of these issues, but this book sets out to be a broad overview rather than a thorough critique, so it's hard to find too much fault there.
One thing this book does very well is broaden the discussion around the quality of the genre. Amish romance, not unlike secular romance, is often derided as poorly written, sentimental schlock, but the author here does a good job of explaining several factors contributing to the final product, including the concept of taste publics, the cultural purposes served by particular tropes, and the religious motivation on both the authors' and readers' parts. I found particularly interesting the section comparing the Amish romance genre to religious iconography; it was a connection I hadn't made before, and it is an apt comparison.
One relatively minor but persistent complaint I had was that instead of ending each chapter with a brief conclusion or recap of the points made, the author instead spends a few paragraphs introducing and essentially "teasing" the next chapter. It felt like a novel putting in purposeful cliffhanger chapter endings to make you want to keep reading. I really dislike this in nonfiction; each chapter should be dedicated to a specific, distinct aspect of the topic, and I want time to thoroughly digest one topic before moving on to the next. Other than that, though, it was very well-written and enjoyable.
One thing this book does very well is broaden the discussion around the quality of the genre. Amish romance, not unlike secular romance, is often derided as poorly written, sentimental schlock, but the author here does a good job of explaining several factors contributing to the final product, including the concept of taste publics, the cultural purposes served by particular tropes, and the religious motivation on both the authors' and readers' parts. I found particularly interesting the section comparing the Amish romance genre to religious iconography; it was a connection I hadn't made before, and it is an apt comparison.
One relatively minor but persistent complaint I had was that instead of ending each chapter with a brief conclusion or recap of the points made, the author instead spends a few paragraphs introducing and essentially "teasing" the next chapter. It felt like a novel putting in purposeful cliffhanger chapter endings to make you want to keep reading. I really dislike this in nonfiction; each chapter should be dedicated to a specific, distinct aspect of the topic, and I want time to thoroughly digest one topic before moving on to the next. Other than that, though, it was very well-written and enjoyable.
March 27, 2020
A fascinating exploration of the strange genre that is the Amish romance novel. Weaver-Zercher has done admirable research, writes well, and cites heavily. She was a bit too inclusive of vast interpretive theories; choosing one or two to buttress her work would have been better than introducing a new theory every chapter. A few motifs were present in the whole work, which gave good takeaways. Particularly, Amish romance fiction as a response to hypermodernization and hypersexualization interested me.
Reading The Thrill of the Chaste eight years after its publication answers a bit of Weaver-Zercher's questions posed in the final chapter. It does indeed seem like Amish romance is here to stay. However, the most famous authors are turning to new angles. Wanda E. Brunstetter, for one, has a brand-new series of cozy mysteries.
I appreciated Weaver-Zercher's respectful tone of the books, the readers, and the authors. As an avid reader with my own proclivities that others may consider weird, I enjoyed Weaver-Zercher's examination of Amish romance novels and her generosity toward the subculture. She could have included C. S. Lewis's critical theory presented in An Experiment in Criticism, which places the value of a text in the reader's response rather than arbitrary literary "quality," but the absence was not detrimental. Lewis's theory just fit with her method.
Overall, a fun read if you like literary criticism and reader-response theory and charitable takes on subgenres. This was definitely written for the "outsider," that is, the non-Amish-romance-novel reader, and I found much in form and execution to admire.
Reading The Thrill of the Chaste eight years after its publication answers a bit of Weaver-Zercher's questions posed in the final chapter. It does indeed seem like Amish romance is here to stay. However, the most famous authors are turning to new angles. Wanda E. Brunstetter, for one, has a brand-new series of cozy mysteries.
I appreciated Weaver-Zercher's respectful tone of the books, the readers, and the authors. As an avid reader with my own proclivities that others may consider weird, I enjoyed Weaver-Zercher's examination of Amish romance novels and her generosity toward the subculture. She could have included C. S. Lewis's critical theory presented in An Experiment in Criticism, which places the value of a text in the reader's response rather than arbitrary literary "quality," but the absence was not detrimental. Lewis's theory just fit with her method.
Overall, a fun read if you like literary criticism and reader-response theory and charitable takes on subgenres. This was definitely written for the "outsider," that is, the non-Amish-romance-novel reader, and I found much in form and execution to admire.
January 6, 2014
Fascinating, well-written, and informative. I live in a large Amish area, and have had Amish as neighbors. Since I have been around the Amish all my life, I couldn't quite figure out why these books were so popular. This book helps explain what draws people to these stories. I have read a few Amish romance novels myself, but the ones I read were a little too formulaic and unrealistic based on my experiences with the Amish. I read a lot of books but rarely read Amish novels anymore since there are so many other good books out there I want to read.
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July 26, 2015A thoughtful reflection on Christian inspirational Amish-themed romance novels, this book could really have benefited from engagement with fan studies literature. The author seemed very uncomfortable with the fan culture(s) she encountered. Similarly, I think a stronger understanding of Evangelical Christian subculture(s) could have helped her understand some of the contours of this genre -- why, for example, the political nature of nonviolence/nonresistance is downplayed in favor of a very personal faith and commitment to pacifism.
November 19, 2015
This is a well-written analysis of the growing Amish romance fiction genre that while lacking any clear answers, did provide me with a lot to think about.
I appreciated the author's use of the personal lens to view this and the intermingling of personal story with her more academic analysis.
If you are curious about this new genre, or its readers (both Amish and non-Amish), I highly recommend this book.
I appreciated the author's use of the personal lens to view this and the intermingling of personal story with her more academic analysis.
If you are curious about this new genre, or its readers (both Amish and non-Amish), I highly recommend this book.
October 2, 2016
A discussion of Amish fiction including commodification, agency, patriarchy, the role of hyper-modernity and sexuality in the current culture of the US, and Evangelical, Anabaptist, and Amish views of Amish fiction.
I am no fan of Amish fiction but know many who are and was hoping for a better understanding of the the appeal and in that, I can't claim to have developed an appreciation of Amish fiction but I do understand better why some people find it appealing.
I am no fan of Amish fiction but know many who are and was hoping for a better understanding of the the appeal and in that, I can't claim to have developed an appreciation of Amish fiction but I do understand better why some people find it appealing.
December 24, 2021
This topic I found informative and fascinating. My skepticism of readers of Amish novels was softened by Weaver-Zercher's arguments about the nature of fiction and gift of transport even as my annoyance grew with how evangelicals have imposed their perceptions and experiences on Amish culture (which I have personally experienced).
The last couple chapters were probably the most interesting.
The last couple chapters were probably the most interesting.
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February 12, 2024Have you ever wondered why Amish novels are so popular?
What attracts us to the books we choose?
This book answers that and much more. It is a fascinating subject to explore.
Well researched and truly interesting.
What attracts us to the books we choose?
This book answers that and much more. It is a fascinating subject to explore.
Well researched and truly interesting.
June 19, 2014
A very well written scholarly analysis of the bonnet (Amish) fiction phenomenon. Of interest to anyone familiar with Janice Radway's Reading the Romance and reader response theory. Nice examination of the commodification of the Amish.
May 20, 2014
This was a really interesting look at the history of Amish Romance Fiction, research on why it's become so popular and some opinions of Amish people on Amish fiction. A really fascinating read. Definitely recommend.
April 24, 2014
Interesting. Gave me a more complete and more sympathetic understanding of the appeal of Amish fiction. Also an inside look at literary criticism, Christian publishing, and reader-book-author interrelationships.
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