Quality Rating: 3/5
Personal Enjoyment Rating: 2/5
I may be a feminist, but even I won't say no to the promise of a romance novel. There are many criteria it has to fill, however, before I consider it feminist-friendly, or even enjoyable. For example, the hero should not sexually assault the heroine, especially if what he does meets the legal definition of rape. Forbidden romance is lovely, but the appeal turns to disgust when the "forbidden-ness" involves an adult-minor relationship, incest, or an otherwise abusive relationship. (My problem with "Fifty Shades of Grey" was NOT the BDSM, for example.) I also don't like the shaming of women who have any kind of sex that the heroine doesn't care for, whether it be casual sex, sex outside of marriage, or sex for money. (Even some of the most progressive stories will have the heroine throw a tantrum if she's mistaken for or compared to a sex worker.)
In some ways, "Friends and Lovers" fills most of those criteria, but in other ways, it reminds me of just how much things have changed since the 1940s.
I'm not sure why it's called "Friends and Lovers," since there doesn't really seem to be much focus on friendship. Both Penny (the heroine) and David (the hero) have friends, but they secretly judge them for their lifestyles; Penny is particularly terrible in this case. In fact, every female character that isn't Penny is portrayed as either a bitter man-hater or a sad, old-looking (Heaven forbid!) slip of her former self.
How is Penny special? Well, for one thing, she thinks it's okay to want to be pretty. All the other female characters put various things--fun, ambition, family duty--above their need to be pretty, and that's just inexcusable. At one point, Penny admires herself in a mirror as she thinks about how nature wouldn't have made female bodies pretty if they weren't meant to be admired. (Because male bodies are just ugly as sin, I guess.) At another point, David is horrified as he realizes that some women might look pretty with makeup on, but they might not look pretty when they take it off.
Another thing is that Penny is "gay." I don't mean "gay" as in "attracted to members of the same gender," but as in carefree, lighthearted. I say "gay" and not "happy" because there is a slight difference in connotation. "Gay" is a simple kind of happiness, where one's problems are either nonexistent or not consciously acknowledged. When Penny is unhappy, she forces herself to be "gay" for her boyfriend, so that her worries won't become his. It kind of reminds me of that bit of advice from the (probably fake) "good wife guide":
Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.
The idea is that women need to take care at every step of the way to not bring their men down. To be fair, David also does this, to an extent. In both cases, there is sexist reasoning: either that women exist to provide peace and comfort to their male companions (and that their own emotions are unimportant), or that women are simply too fragile to hear about the complicated problems that men face.
And this is where I have a problem. "Friends and Lovers" isn't the most egregious example of wife-beating, woman-scorning misogyny I've ever encountered--even among stories written by women. It's more subtle than that. It's sprinkled everywhere with ideas of how a woman should be--and what she should be, of course, is pleasing for men to look at and speak with. Margaret, David's selfish and untalented sister, is too thin. Her friend, Florence, is too big (and her laugh too "booming," apparently). They are not likable people, but the correlation is obvious. Penny's mother and sister are treated more sympathetically (although still someone negatively), because one used to be pretty, and one is almost as pretty as Penny (and probably would be as pretty, if she weren't so morose).
There are, of course, still some hints of how times were changing, even then. Sex is discussed somewhat frankly, and David and Penny both agree that sex before marriage is acceptable. Penny's close friend, Lillian Marston, is one of the more likable characters (although still portrayed as "wrong" in the way she deals with men), has probably been around the block at least a few times. And there is a character, Bunny (!?) Eastman, who I'm pretty sure is gay-coded (and this time, I do indeed mean "attracted to the same gender"). Aside from a little bit of condescending amusement (and no character is spared this, even our near-perfect heroes), he is portrayed positively (although another "good" character finds him repulsive). Still, there was plenty of finger-wagging at women who fail to make themselves attractive for men. Remember, ladies--it's important to have fun (Don't be a prude!), but only the kind of fun that men approve of and benefit from.
The characters, however, were enjoyable to read about. Even nameless characters, such as a waitress at a restaurant and a guard at one of the tourist attractions, are given a point of view for the reader to learn more about them. Sometimes, the reader is even privy to things that the main characters do not know. I found this to be Helen MacInnes' biggest strength.
The story takes place in the 1930s, with talk of a depression and World War I (but not World War II, although there is discussion of growing unrest in Germany and brief mentions of the Nazi party). These talks, however, are not the main focus of the story. They play the role of garnishes, something that makes the main course look a little more filling and palatable. I was disappointed that the "forbidden love" angle wasn't fully played out; Penny's parents are simply opposed to her marriage to David because they're "too young." Yawn. I was also irritated that the book made a point of having Penny state that she's "backsliding" from feminism because all of her ambitions have melted into being with David and making him happy. Look, lady, no one cares if you want to be with the love of your life. But the fact that you get all coy about it, like, "Oopsie, I made a feminist boo-boo, hee-hee, well, maybe I was never a feminist after all!" just makes you look immature and obnoxious. I get it, MacInnes. You think feminists are crazy man-haters.
There's a bit about David, too, thinking that his sister just has an axe to grind against men--now of all times, when women can make their own living and all! Yes, David. It's not like there's a wage gap or anything (and I do NOT want to hear any arguments about this, it's the 1930s). It's not like she'll get fired if she becomes pregnant, or even just gets married. Nope, everything is completely equal, feminism is over, yada yada.
At first, the story is a little interesting, but everything resolves very quickly, and most of the "action" consists of Penny and David talking about how awful they are and how they don't deserve their partner. Their partner will then, like clockwork, assure them that they are the most precious thing in the universe, practically perfect in every way, and then they kiss. Occasionally, David will say something creepy or "joke" about beating her with a poker, and Penny will giggle. Whenever he's sad about something, Penny thinks to herself that she's the cause of his sadness, and berates herself for not being the perfect girlfriend. And each is the other's sole reason for existing.
Objectively, that's the biggest problem here. I might get huffy about sexism, but sometimes, I can forgive the occasional "men are GRR MANLY and women are *faints because my frail lady brain can't deal with the raw emotion of this sentence8" gender essentialist crap if the story is strong. But it really isn't. There are several things that are either left untied or wrapped up in an unsatisfying manner in the final chapter. I'm a bit peeved that the jacket summary states that Penny's "father was an Edinburgh lawyer, a lowlander who had muffled his highland wife until she was more staid and conventional than he." I didn't see a hint of that in the story; just that the mother thought she was doing everything for her husband, but her husband was just sick of all the drama. The blame is laid mostly on her shoulders--for not being "gay" enough, I guess.
I got this book from a "free" table at the library where I volunteer. They say you get what you pay for. Maybe this novel was better liked in the 1940s. One can only hope.