Consuming the Romantic Utopia: Love and the Cultural Contradictions of Capitalism

ConsllIning the ROInantic Utopia Love and the Cultural Contradictions of Capitalism

Eva Illouz

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS Berkeley . Los Angeles . London

University o f California Press Berkeley and Los Angeles, California University of Ca l ifo rn ia Press, Ltd. london, England ©1997 by The Regents of the Uni\'ersity of California

l i brary oi Congress Cataloging·in-Publication Data IIIouz, Eva, 1961Consuming the romantic utopia : love and the cultural contradictions of capitalism I Eva lIIouz. em.

p.

Includes b i bliograph ic references and index ISBN 978-0-520-20571-0 (pbk. 1. Love.

HQ801.164

2. Ca pita l ism.

:

alk. paper)

1. Title.

1996

306.7-dc20 95-44241

Printed in the United States of America 12

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10 9

08

09

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The p a per used in this publication meets the mi nimu m requirements of ANSIINISO Z39.48-1992 (R 1997) iPenn�nence of Paper).

This book is dedicated to Elchanan Ben-Porath

Do you hea r the neighing of the horses, the blaring of the

trumpets, and the rattle of the drums? I hear nothing,

answered Sancho, but the bleating of the

sheeps and lambs.

Cervantes, Don Quixote

Contents

Acknowledgments

Xlll

Introduction to the Sociology of love

I

Romantic Love as a Cultural Practice 2 Romantic Love as a Utopia of Transgression

Overview II On Methodology PART 1.

6

16

WHEN ROMANCE MET THE MARKET

Chapter

I.

Constructing the Romantic Utopia

The Secularization of Love, or Love as a New Religion Love on Sale 33 Romance vs. Marriage 39 A Romantic Tale Spectacle 42 C onc l us io n 46 Chapter

2.

Trouble in Utopia

The Price of Love 49 Alone in Public 54 Dating and the Spirit of Consumerism Conclusion 76

25 28

48

66

PART

2.

ALL THAT IS ROMANTIC MELTS INTO AIR: LOVE AS

A POSTMODERN CONDITION

Chapter 3. From the Romantic Utopia to the American 81 Dream "You

Co u l d Be Here, Now"

Such a Natural Love

83

91

Romance as Invisible Affluence 101

C ode s Are Getting Tired C onc lusion 110

95

Chapter 4. An All-Consuming Love Reenchanting the World

A Co ns um i ng Romance

II2

II3 12.0

The Luxury of Romance

132. Travel, Nature, and Romance 137 Romance as Lim ina lity 142. The C omm erce of Love: Ide ol ogy or Utopia? Conclusion 151

145

Chapter 5. Real Fictions and Fictional Realities Love at First Sight 157 160 Reality as Fic t i on 1 6 6 Fiction as Rea l ity 170 A Postmodem Romantic Conditio n Conclusion 181

153

Realist Love

PART 3.

172.

THE BUSINESS OF LOVE

Chapter 6. Reason within Passion Charting the Heart

190

Passion within Reason, Reason within Passion The Uncertainties of the Heart

192.

196

The Science of Love

198 Therapeutic D i sco u rse as Reflexive Discourse

Chapter 7. The Reasons for Passion Aga pic and E ros ic Love

2I 1

A Very Re aso nable Madness S ocioeconomic Boundaries

215 220

Moral and Personality Bou nd aIie s

22. 7

200 208

Educational and Cultural Boundaries I Talk, Therefore You Love Me 2.32 Love for Free 2.40 C o nc l u s ion 2.45

2.30

Chapter 8. The Class of Love The Elementary Forms of Romance

247 2. 49

Love as Difference 2. 5 I Love and Sy mbolic Domination 2.65 Class, Ro ma nce , and the St ruc t u r e of Everyday Life Conclusion 2.85 Conclusion: A Happy Ending?

The Story of Love

268 288

2.88

Appendix I. A Few Words about Methods

297

Appendix 2. Questionnaire

304

Appendix 3. Images of Romance

312

Notes

317

References Index

Acknowledgments

This book owes many debts to many people. Contrary to custom, I would like to thank my husband, Elchanan Ben-Porath, at the very beginning. The two years during wltich I wrote this book coincided with the first two years of our marriage and saw the successive births of our sons, Nathan­ El and Immanuel. That I managed to complete this book in such hectic times is mostly due to his hard domestic work, his thorough critiques of the manuscript in its various stages, and his unwavering support. A number of institutions have played an important role in the writ­ ing of this book. A student fellowship from the Annenberg School for Communications helped me defray the costs of interview transcriptions. A Fulbright Fellowship defrayed my travel costs. A fellowship from the National Museum of American History, at the Smithsonian Institution, supported me during the writing of chapters I and 2 of this book. The Rachi Foundation in Paris provided a generous grant that enabled the purchase of equipment and defrayed the costs of secretarial assistance. I would like to thank the faculty of social sciences at Tel-Aviv Uni­ versity for a grant that helped defray the costs of editing. Finally, I would like to thank tlte secretarial staff of the Department of Sociology at Northwestern University, where I visited during the last yea r spent writ­ ing this book, for the efficiency of their assistance. My intellectual debts go way back. First and foremost is Larry Gross, my adviser at the Annenberg School of Communications at the University of Pennsylvania, who has been a model of intellectual rigor and generosity. Intensive discussions with XIII

XIV

Acknowledgments

Charles Bosk p rovi d ed the important milestones in the conception of thi s project. At the Smithsonian Institution, Charlie McGovern helped me find my way in the maze of studies on the early American twentieth cen­ tury. Michele Richman h as played a key role in my intellectual d evel o p­ ment in general. Her unfailing warmth and love of k nowl edge sustained me more often and in many more ways than she suspects. Amy Jordan, Christine Hoephner, and Luba Vikhanski read a nd corrected an embar­ rassing number o f pages. I feel fortunate to have benefited from their abilities. Discussions with Arjun Appadurai were crucial in the early de­ ve lopment of my thoughts. My gratitude goes to Pau l DiMaggio for sup­ porting this project at its inception and for sharing with me a rarely en­ countered dep th of know led ge. The second stage of writing this book owes its m ost significant debt to Michele Lamont. Her generosity of m ind and heart and her incisive critiques significantly contributed to the qu ali ty of this manuscript. Francesca Cancian's meticulous and thought-provoking critique helped me bring some critical clar ific ati o ns in the structure of the argu men t . An anonymous reader at the University of California Press p rov id e d cri­ tiques of unexpected tho r oug hn es s and breadth. I a m grateful to him or her for a c areful and in s ightful read i ng. Haim Hazan and Sacha Weit­ man read t he c ompleted manuscript and offered constructive critiques with their u sua l warm t h and ac um e n . Erika Biiky, Wi ll ia m Murphy, and Naomi Schneider at the University of Ca lifo r nia Press have assisted m e in the so meti me s hazardous process of turning the manuscript into a book . I thank them for th e ir un failin g responsiveness t h ro ug h o ut our electronic re lati o n s hi p. M y deep gra t itud e goes t o t he men and women who were inte rvie we d for this study. A c ohor t of fr ie nds a nd co lle ag ues helped me overcome the self-do ubts o ften involved in the writing of such a book . Philippe Zard has never fai led to give me the warmth and intellectual challenges that make his friendship a rare one. P h i lippe Corcuff h as been and continues to be a source of soc iologica l inspi r a ti o n . At an early stage, Gideon K u nda voiced constructive criticism of an ear l y draft of the hook prospectus. Haurit Hermann-Peled and Yohav Peled read c ha p ter s I and 2 and made per­ cepti ve critiques. Cathy Preston and Moira McL ough l i n made impo r tant suggestions on ways to impr o v e c h ap te r 3. Mic hele R ich man read ch ap ter 4 and contrib uted important i n sig h ts on the role of expenditure. N u ri t Bird-David, Jose Brun ner, Avi Cordova, Shlomo Deshen, Sigal Goldin, and M os h e Shokeid read and reread early drafts of c hapter 5. ­

Acknowledgments

xv

Their patient criticism and bibliographical suggestions contributed much to this chapter. Discussions with Philippe Corcuff and Claudette Lafaye h elped me conceive of the ideas of chapter 6. Philippe Corcuff, Yuval Yonai, and Yehuda Schenhav made enlightening suggestions about chapter 7, and all three directed my a ttention to the idea of multiple rationalities. Last, I wo ul d like to express my gra t it ude to my parents, brothers, and sister, whose presence sustained me through the writing of this book.

Introduction to the Sociology of Love We would shiver a l ittl e at the c oldn ess, severity, and calculat­ ing clarity of such a noble concept of

m a r r ia g e

as has ruled in

every healthy aristocracy, in a nci ent Athens as in th e eigh­

te enth century, we warm-blooded an imals with sensitive heans, we "moderns"! Precisely this is why love as a

the great meaning of the word-was invented for the aristocratic world and in it, wh er e constraint and priva­

passion-in

tion were g rea test

.

Nietzsche, The

Will to

Power

Romantic love, we are told by some, is the last repository of the au­ thenticity and the warmth that have be en r obbed from us by an in­ creasingly technocratic and legalistic age. To others, it represents an ide­ ology that enslaves women, a symptom of the demise of the public sph ere, or a flight from social responsibility. This book does not intend to be another voice celebrating the virtues of love or lamenting its failings . Rather, it aims to highlight the terms of this debate by examining how rom antic love relates to the cul ture and class relationships of late capitalism. While many studies have examined the impact of capita lism on the sel f and on human relationships, this book addresses more seriously the question of how the encounter of love and capital ism occurred. This focus on the "how " is then a bout under­ standing the forms and the mech anisms through which romantic emo­ tions intersect with the culture, the economy, and the social organization of advanced capitalism. Capital ism is a notoriously Janus-like entity: to the extent that it promotes the incorporation of all social groups into the mark et, it has created a powerful common symbolic space unified by the twin spheres of consumption and mass media. But capital ism does not only unify; in its industrial phase it has brought about intense class con­ flicts; in its postind ustrial phase it has fragm ented social cl asses into

Introduction

ever-smaller communities of consumption or l i festyle groups. Capital­ ism makes possible the participation of everyone in the economic and symbolic sp here of consumption, yet sustains and reproduce s itself through the concentration of wealth and the legitimation of social divisions. This book argues that the modern definitions and practices of ro­ mance are intertwined with this duality of consumer capitalism . Ro­ mantic love has become an intimate, indispensa ble part of the democ­ ratic ideal of a ffluence that has accompanied the emergence of the mass market, thereby offering a collective utopia cutting across and tran­ scending social divisions. Concomitantly with that process, however, romantic love has espoused as it were the mechanisms of economic and symbolic domination at work in American social structure . The broad thesis of the book then is that romantic l ove is a collective arena within which the soci al divisions and the cultural contradictions of capitalism are played out.

R O M A NTIC LOV E AS A CULTURAL PRAC TICE As an economic system, capitalism "involv(es) the production and ex­ change of commodities with the aim of accumulating a surplus value, that is, profit, with some part of this profit being re-invested in order to maintain the conditions of future accum ulation. "l Beyond this technical definition, however, capitalism is characterized by an entire c ultura l mind-set, in that " exchange relationships, that o f buying and sellin g , have permeated most of the societ y. 2 In capitalism, two par­ "

ties come together explicitly on the basis of self-interest a n d mutual economic bene fit; transactions are justified by calculating their effects on the "bottom l i ne" of the balance sheet. In romantic love, by con­ trast, two individuals are bound together by the "capacity to rea lize spontaneity and empathy in an erotic rel a tionship." 3 In the market­ place, trading partners are ultimately interchangeable; relationsh ips shift with economic circumstances. In romantic love, the person we love and feel united with is unique and irreplaceable; furthermore, " love is the most important thing in the world, to which all other considerations, particularly material ones, should be sacrificed. " 4 Ro­ mantic love is irrational rather than rational, gratuitous rather than profit-oriented, organic rather than utilitarian, private rather than public. In short, romantic love seems to evade the conventional cate­ gories within which capitalism has been conceived. In popular culture

Introduction

3

and "common sense," as well as in s cho l ars hip , romantic love stands

above t he realm of commodity exchange and even aga i n st the social order writ la rge. Until the 1 960s, ant h ropo logy, sociology, and history implicitly sub­

scr i bed to this view.5 Conceiving o f cu l t ure as a publ ic and collective practice, these disciplines equated e motions with subj ective, physio­

l ogical and psycho logical experiences, thus ultimately excluding them from the study of collective and symbolic life. Romantic love was in­ evi ta b ly relega ted to the sociologica lly awkward sphere of private life rather than d iscussed in terms of p u blic rituals, social conflict, or class re l a t i o nsh ips. In the last two decades, howeve r, new voices in anthropology and psychology have insisted that emotions are i nfluenced and even shaped by the v o lati l e " stuff" of culture: norms, language, stereo­ types, metaphors, symbo ls.6 But if most disci plines of the social sci­ ences are willing today to profess a link between culture a n d emotion, they are more reluctant to acknowledge a connection between love and economy. Like art and religion, love " is t h e site par excellence of t he denial of the social world" especially when this world takes the murky face of economic in terest, and, like art or religion, romantic love denies its social basis thro ug h its claim to transcend or overturn it.7 How then are the links between emotion, cu lture, and economy to be conceptualized?

"Emotions" are the com ple x conjunction of physiological a rousal, perceptual mechanisms, and interpretive processes; they are thus s it u­ ated at the threshold where the noncultural is encoded in culture, where body, cognition, and culture converge and merge.s As a cultural prac­ tice, then, romantic love is subj ect to the twin influence of the economic and political spheres; unlike other practices, however, romantic love im­ plies an immedi ate experience of the body. The social psychologists Schachter and Singer have offered a com­ pelling account of j ust how and when a physiological a rousal might be­ come " love. " 9 They suggest that emotions are activated by a gene ral and undifferentiated state of arousal, which becomes an emotion only when appropriately la beled. For example, the same general state of arousal

could trigger either fear or infatuation, depe ndi n g on environmental

cues.1 0 If this is indeed the case , we ca n then expect culture to play a con­ siderable role in the construction, interpretation, and fu n ctioning of emotions. Culture operates as a

frame

w ith in which emotional experi­

ence is organized, labeled, classified, and i nterpreted.II Cultural frames

Introduction

4

name and define the emotion, set the limits of its intensity, specify the norms and values attached to it, and provide symbols and cultural sce­ na rios that make it socially co mmu n icati ve _ In the evolution of sexua l arousa l to the cod ified sentiment of love, culture plays at least three roles_ First, it provides meaning to physio­ logical arousal by labeling it. For example, depending on one's cultural tradition (e.g_, Christian, Roma ntic, scientific ) , sexual arousal can be variously construed a s " recognition of two souls destined for each other, " "love at first sight, " "infatuatio n , " " lust" (either a sin or a some­ what pleasurable irrita nt ), or just "hormona l disorder." Similarly, the physiological arousal a ssociated with jealousy may be interpreted as a sign of romantic passion, an expression of personal insecurity, or an at­ tempt at control. Second, labels contain meanings embedded in bodies of norms, prescriptions , and prohi bitions_ For example, same-sex friend­ ships might be interpreted as homosexual passions or as spiritual at­ tachments, depending on the range of authorized interpretations. Fur­ thermore, not only does the normative context determine the definition of a given emotion, but people can m anage a n d control their emotions in order to conform to cultural norms, a process that has been called "emotion work " by sociologist Arlie Hochschild. U Third, cultural values stipulate how to evaluate the intensity of physio­ logical arousal. For example, the Romantic tradition would most likely privilege its initial and most i ntense stage, whereas rea list traditions might favor its declining intensity and less turbulent manifestations as exem­ plifying " true " love_ In contemporary culture, two equ ally pow e rful repertoires are used to make sense of, express, or control the var ious stages of the romantic bond: in the main, the initial stages of attraction and the romantic sentiment are expressed in the cultural institution of "dating" and are imbricated with the hedonist values of postmodern culture. On the other ha nd , the sta bility and longev i ty procured by a slow-paced, incremental, and l ong- l a s ting love are associated with the institution of marriage and are framed in a blend of therapeutic and eco­ nomic terms. Fourth, culture provides symbols, artifacts, stories, and images­ s y mbolic " snapshots " -in which romantic feelings can be reca pitu l ated and communicated. These symbols a re often literally photograph s- fo r

example, the "romantic" photograph s u mm ar i z ing a cou pl e 's vaca tion or h on e y moon and picturing them closely embraced on the beach at sundown-or the memory of past love might take the form of a letter or gift, or a story capturing the vivid uniqueness of the relationship.

Introduction

The repertoire of images, artifacts, and stories offered by contempo­ rary culture is varied but limited, and some of these cultural symbols are more readily available than others. This is precisely my point of inter­ rogation: How does one cultural vocabulary of sentiments become more visible and more publicly available than another? Why is the image of a couple walking hand-in-hand along the sea more prevalent than the im­ age of a man and a woman casually watching television? Why do most people remember short-lived and intense affairs more easily than slow­ paced relationships? Why does a long conversation convey more aptly feelings of "intimacy" and "romance" than attending a basketball game? Such questions form the backbone of this study and already give clues as co what this book is not about. It is not about the phenomenology of love, insofar as it does not interrogate romantic love from" inside," as a reality sui generis, and does not decompose it into categories consti­ tutive of its experience (e.g., "the encounter," "the first kiss," "the ca­ resses," "the communication," "the sexual bond," et cetera). This also explains why the issue of sexuality is obliquely rather than frontally ad­ dressed. While it is an undoubtedly crucial element of contemporary ro­ mantic experiences, sexuality is subordinated to the same cultural dis­ courses of self-realization, hedonism, and self-knowledge that form the backbone of our culture of love. This book is also not about romantic love as it is usually, and narrowly, defined by cultural historians, that is, as a passionate and absolute longing for someone cast in the language of religious devotion. The material explored here is more diffuse and volatile than such attempts to delimit it would suggest. This book places in a critical context the multifarious feelings implied in the expression "to be romantically involved with somebody." Al­ though it studies many of the stages of "romantic involvement"-initial attraction, dating, marriage-it does not do so chronologically, for my interest is not in telling the story of contemporary love. Rather, it is in bringing love within the traditional business of cultural sociology and submitting it to questions of which tacit meanings and symbols organize our romantic experience and why precisely these and not others. Definitions of culture somewhat muddle rather than clarify this issue. One definition, provided by anthropologist Clifford Geertz and now al­ most canonical, suggests that it is a "historically transmitted pattern of meanings embodied in symbols, a system of inherited conceptions ex­ pressed in symbolic forms by means of which men

Isic]

communicate,

perpetuate, and develop their knowledge about and attitudes toward life."1J This definition purposely refuses the question of the "ultimate"

Introduction

6

causes of these cultural patterns a nd instead confines itself to an imma­ nent interpretation of the given frameworks of knowledge with in which men and women make sense of their world, act on it, and communicate with one another. Such an approach to culture broadly informs my view that love is a complex emotion interweaving stories, images, metaphors, material goods, and folk theories and that people make sense of their ro­ mantic experiences by drawing on collective symbols and meanings. The drawback of such an approach, however, is that it ultimately re­ mains silent on the constitution of cu ltural meaning-where do these meanings "come from," what other purposes do they serve beyond mak­ ing sense? While there is m uch to be said for Geertz's attention to the complex and rich texture of meaning, one is tempted to retort to him that history informs us not only of the relative persistence of c ultural cat­ egories, but a lso of the ways in which meanings serve as weapons in the struggles of social groups to secure and further their interests. Culture thus is a matter of shared mean ings, but it is not only that: it is also one of the ways in which exclusion, inequality, a nd power structures are maintained and reproduced. Linking love to culture in the context of advanced capitalism, then, demands that we understand how love at one

and the same

time binds and

divides, unites and separates.

To grasp this d uality of love in turn requires that we move away from the self-defeating question of whether economy determines culture or vice versa.14 As many sociologists have increasingly come to acknowledge, culture and economy reciprocally constitute each other; this book hopes to contribute to these new attempts at synthesis by showing how ro­ mantic emotions intersect with the link between culture and economy. IS Thus, my primary question is not how romantic love embodies a self­ contained pattern of meanings; the question is how to

frame

the rela­

tionship between love and late capitalism. As Ra ndall Collins put it, the problem of social analysis is not only how to e xplain social phenomena but also how to conceive them .16 This book focuses on

how

romance,

c ulture, and economy connect with one another, that is, on the mecha­ nisms and the cultural forms through which culture and economy meet and intersect in love.17

ROMANTIC LOVE AS A UTOPIA OF TRANSGRESSION

The idea th at romantic love is at the cornerstone of the culture of capi­ talism is not new. In his

State,

Origin of the Family, Private Property and the

a sweeping critique of the family from Greek civilization to the

Introduction

7

bourgeois era, Friedrich Engels condemned the family for subjugating women to men and for preserving private property (through laws of in­ heritance). For Engels, the monogamous bourgeois " affectionate" mar­ riage is a hypocritical illusion, conditioned by cla ss rather than senti­ ment, and remains ultimately a marriage of convenience rather than love. Only in the working classes, who ha ve no material wealth to gain or lose, can "true " romantic love flourish. Therefore, as Engels and Marx con­ cluded in the Communist Manifesto, only in a communist society, liber­ ated from private property and the profit motive, would the family and love be freed from the relations of domination and interest. The politi­ cal utopia envisioned by Marx and Engels clearly implied a total sepa­ ration between commodity and sentiment, interest and love, as a pre­ condition for authentic, fully human relationships. Combining Marxian and F reudian doctrines, some memb ers of the Frankfurt School refined this critique of capitalism, con tra s ting it to a social utopia in which love occupied a place of honor. Marcuse argued that erotic desires could and should be liberated from the psychic de­ mands of the cap ita list system of production . For him, the "reality prin­ ciple" that a nimates capitalism subjugates desire to the iron law of pro­ ductivity.18 Erich Fromm echoed Marcuse's critique but offered a different analysis of the relationship between capitalism and love. In his 1956 book, The Art of Loving, Fromm argued that modern love had come to be conceived in the same terms as capitalist economic exchanges . The modern romantic couple had become a "working te am and thus adopted the values and the forms of reasoning of modern economic re­ lationships. Both Marcuse and Fromm cast the relationship between so­ ciety and love as a political issue, thus opening the path to a political cri­ tique of sexuality, desire, and love. Despite the wide-ranging influence that these critics have exerted in academic scholarship a nd, more ephemerally, on the student movements of the 19605, their vision has failed to transform the popular representa­ tions of love in any significant way. Love remains one of the most im­ portant mythologies of our time.19 I would therefore like to start this in­ quiry with the following question: Why do romantic love and its attendant mythologies have such a powerful grip on our collective i magination? In the first half of the book I argue that the long-lasting power of love is ex­ plained-if only partially-by the fact that love is a privileged site for the experience of utopia. In capitalist societies, love contains a utopian di­ mension tha t cannot be easily reduced to "false consciousness" or to the presumed power of "ideology" to recruit people's desires. Instead, the "

8

Introduction

lo nging for utopia at the heart of romantic love possesses deep affinities with the experience of the sacred. As Durkheim has suggested, such ex­ perience has not disappeared from secular societies but has migrated from religion proper to other domains of culture.2o Romantic love is one site of this displacement.21 Paradoxically enough, this "sacralization" of a secularized love oc­ curred at the same time that romance was being stripped of the mean­ ings it had long borrowed from institutional religion. At the turn of the twentieth century, romantic love ceased being an "altar" to which lovers "consecrated" a cult conceived in the terms of Christian devotion. In the process of becoming secular, romance took on the properties of ritual: it started drawing on themes and images offering temporary access to a powerful collective utopia of abundance, individualism, and creative self-fulfillment, and these utopian meanings were experienced thro u gh the cyclical performance of rituals of consumption . (The first five chap­ ters of this book illuminate these utopian themes and their connection

to the experience of ritual.) The themes that make up the romantic utopia preceded the rise of capitalism per se. Many authors have observed that in most societies, including prem odern Europe, romantic love was perceived as a sub­ versive force threatening the legal and moral order.22 But nowhere is this observation more relevant than in Western culture, where ro man­ tic love has been imbued with an aura of transgression, while being elevated to the status of a supreme value. The figures that haunt our romantic imagination affirm the inalienable rights of passion, defy the normal arrangements and divisions by gender, class, or national loyal­ ties.23 One reason romantic love is perceived as so destabilizing is that

it challenges an essential regulatory mechanism of any social group, kin­ ship. As the anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss has argued, contained in the universal taboo of incest is the n or m that groups create and main­ tain relations of reciprocity and obligation through the exchange of women.24 In many societies, the exchange of w om en is supervised and tightly controlled by agents of authority who ensure that rules of en­ doga my are carefully observed. To the extent that romantic love affirms the choice of a mate by the individual, often against or outside the rules of endogamy, it explores the limits of the rules maintaining the group . As William Goode, in a classic paper on love, put it, "To permit random mating would mean radical ch a nge in the existing social structure."2S Yet even if such a radical transformation has not taken place, at the level of symbolic rep-

Introduction

9

resentation romantic love has articulated a longing for and a utopian model of the sovereignty of the individual above and often against the claims of the group.26 Long before the possessive individualism of com­ mercial and industrial capitalism, romantic love celebrated moral indi­ vidualism, a value of paramount importance to the worldview of indus­ trial capitalismP Furthermore, in premodern Europe, endogamic rules not only con­ fined the autonomy of the individual but also regulated the exchange of wealth. Members of the landed aristocracy married people of similar or superior birth and fortune in order to maintain and increase their patri­ mony and social status. The historian Theodor Zeldin suggests that un­ til the beginning of the twentieth century, marriage was considered by members of all levels of society (except for the lowest, who could not af­ ford the ceremony) to be one of the most, if not the most, important fi­ nancial operations of their lives. Far from the modern idea of love, the ideal marriage of this era was one in which "the fortunes of both part­ ners where perfectly equilibrated: the ideal marriage was an equitable bargaining."28 Zeldin notes that in such an atmosphere "love was, for parental authority, the great enemy, the rebel likely to cause disasters for all its projects. "'29 Romantic love was perceived to oppos e strategies of social reproduction normally safeguarded by the institution of m arriage. It stood for s uch values as disinterestedness, irrationality, and indif­ ference to riches. Ironically, however, in popular literature, love was sup­ posed to magically bring econom ic security, and abundance, without cold-hearted calculation. Romantic love, then, precedes capitalism per se but articulates two leitm otifs that will later resonate with capitalism's central ideological themes . One concerns the sovereignty of the individual vis-a.-vis the group, such sovereignty being affirmed in illicit sexual choices and in the lovers' refusal to conform to the rules of endogamy set by the group. The other concerns the d istinction central to bourgeois ideology between in­ terest and sentiments, selfishness and selflessness, embodied respectively in the public and private spheres. In this division, romantic love asserts the privilege of sentiments over social and economic interests, of gratu­ ity over profit, of abundance over the deprivations caused by accumu­ lation. In proclaiming the supremacy of human relationships governed by the disinterested gift of oneself, love not only celebrates the fusion of individual souls and bodies but also opens the possibility of an alterna­ tive social order. Love thus projects an aura of transg res sion and both promis es and demands a better world.

10

Introduction

However, in and of i tsel f , a m ere representation such as the ideal vi­

sion of romantic love d oe s not have the power to win s uch pe r vas i ve and long-l asting devotion. To last an d prevail, it m ust art icula te itse l f thr ough certain categories of experience. From my Durkheimian p re m ises, I will

argue that the utopian d imension of r oman tic love derives from a par­ ticular category of the rel igio us, the one th at anthropologist Victor

Turner calls "liminality."30 A cc o rd ing to Tu r ner, the "liminal" is a cate­ gory of ritu al in wh ich the hiera rchies of the regula r order are inverted and co m mun al energies l ibe ra ted and fused togeth e r in an o rgan i c bond. The liminal is an exploration of the limits of the pe r m issi ble , controlled and ritually sanctioned by the g roup. It theref ore contains elements of

transgression as well as a mechanism d esigne d to reest ablis h the "nor­ m al" o rde r of things. Romantic love has been and continues to be the cornerstone of a powe r f ul utopian vision because it reenacts sy mbo li­

cally ritual s of opposition to t he soc ial or der thro u gh inversion of h ie r arc hie s and affirms the supremacy of the individual. But s ayi ng this is not saying much if o ne does no t spec ify the social conditions and institutions that make r oma ntic l imi nalit y operate in specific contexts. The task that lies before us, th e n, is to show not only that

rom antic love carves out the emotional space for the experience of the li mi na l and the access to utopi a, but further that this experience is

sh ape d by th e symbols, va l u es, and class r e lations hip s of capital i st A mer ica n s ocie ty. Paradoxically, in contemporary culture the li mi na l inversion of t he

social order and the o ppos it ion to uti li tari an values affirmed by r oma n­ tic love are sha ped by th e market.31 In particular, meanings co ntaine d in the c ons ump tion of le is u re te mporarily o ve rt urn the conditions set by work, money, and exch a nge . Through its incorp orati on in the s phe re of lei s ure, contemporary romant ic love rem ai ns de e ply entrenched in the

tr ad it ion affi rm ing the dis or de rl y ind ividual against t he well-reg ul at ed g ro up, onl y now this affi rm ati on is expressed in the consumerist idiom of pos t mo dern culture. As I show in chapters 1-5, the p ost m o der n cul­

ture o f late c ap ita lism articulates a powerful utopia of love promising transgression thro u gh the co ns u mp t ion of leisure and Nature. Roman­ tic pra c tic es i nc lude tra n sg res sive rituals that oppose the va lues of the pr o duct ive sphere and celebrate pers on al freedom, but these rit u als are ultim ately b ased in the market. In line w ith Durkheim's and Turn er's suggestion that s ocia l life a lter­ na tes between "hot" moments of fus io n with the sacred and the "cold " m o m en ts o f prag m atic all y oriented, everyday action, my analy sis s hows

Introduction

II

that the ritual enactments of the romantic utopia coexist with an expe­ rience of love as rational, utilitarian, and laborious. Chapters 6-8 show that this mode of relationship demands a careful and rationalized monitoring of the self, which puts this mode on the "profane" end of the romantic experience. This realm of the profane is not sociologically neutral, however: rather, it is suffused with the values and discourses of capitalist production. Romantic love is an exemplary c ase for the sociology of late capi­ talist culture because it joins and condenses the contradictions of this culture: between the sphere of consumption and the sphere of produc­ tion, between a postmodern disorder and the still-powerful work dis­ cipline of the Protestant ethic, between the classless utopia of affluence and the dynamic of "distinction." !'.1}' point of departure is Daniel Bell's evocative and, I believe, still relevant observation that the culture of capitalism is self-contradictory, demanding that people be hard work­ ers by day and hedonists by night.32 The cultural contradiction between the sphere of consumption and that of production is at the heart (so to speak) of the modern meanings of romantic love; romantic practices simultaneously draw from the pervasive but conflicting cultural idioms of hedonism and work discipline. How such a contradiction came about and how it is reflected in contemporary romantic practices is the topic of this book.

O VERVIEW In approaching the connection between love and late capitalism, I first examine the part played by commodities in the constitution of roman­ tic experience. At the turn of the century, cultural entrepreneurs and es­ tablished industries began promoting commodity-centered definitions of romance to further their own economic interests (chapters I and 2). Since then, consumption and romantic emotions have progressively merged, each shrouding the other in a mystical halo. Commodities have now penetrated the romantic bond so deeply that they have become the in­ visible and unacknowledged spirit reigning over romantic encounters. In tracing the early history of this "commodification of romance," J draw on a heterogeneous sample of texts from the 1900S to the 1930S, cover­ ing four main cultural codes within which romantic love is prominent: narrative (novels and movies), visual (advertising and movies), musical (songs), and prescriptive (etiquette books, magazine advice columns, self-help books).

1 2.

Imroduction

Capitalism is characte rized by the fantastic production of goods as well as by thei r circulation through the market; both play a central role in the formation of social and cultu ral identity. The penetration of com­ modities into the romantic bond is not enough to account for the particular form of romance in late capitalism . As I show in parts 2. and

3, the personal ity of the contemporary lover is at once that of the post­ modern consumer and that of the rational worker. The postmodern sphere of consumption and the still "modern" ethos of the sphere of pro­ duction undergird cyclical shifts in the i ndi vidual between romance as a ritual of inversion and roma nce as hard work. Parts 2. and 3 examine the evol ution of the romantic formula that ge lled during the opening decades of the century with in the context of late capital ist culture. Because a post­ modern romantic sensibility was al ready latent in the cultural and eco­ nomic transformations of the turn of the century, parts

2.

and 3 are to be

read as extending and developing the historical section . The material for analysis includes, first and foremost, interviews with fifty working-class, middle-class, and upper-middle-class people, as well as a sample of ad­ vertising images and anicles from middle-class women's magazines.33 Although postmodernity is conventionally said to begin with the pass­ ing of the 19 605, a postmodern romantic sensibility was latent in the cul­ ture of the first decades of the century and became explicit after World War 11.34 As Marxist scholar Frederic Jameson puts it, a cultural change is less a matter of content than a restructuring of relationships between subordinate and dominant elements .35 Cultural forms that were only be­ ginn ing to emerge earl y in the century became dominant in the context of advanced capi talism. To this extent, postmodern culture represents neither a new stage of capitalism nor an overcom ing of its basic struc­ ture, but rather its culmination. Late (often called "advanced " ) capitalism is characterized by a num­ ber of features , the most relevant for this study being the prominence of the service and information sectors of the economy, the move from mass production and mass consumption to flex i ble production and special­ ized consumption ( "post-fordist" capitalism), the centra lity of lifestyle in class groupings , the fragmentation of the working class , and the ex­ traordinary growth of the cul ture and leisure spheres.36 The shift to an economy of information was accompanied by changes in the occupa­ tional structure. The "old middle classes, " as C. Wright Mills called them, were replaced by corporate and bureaucratic elites with high lev­ els of technica l and professional expenise who assist propertied owners. The bureaucratic elites and knowledge experts, as well as the new spe-

13

Introdu ction

cialists of "culture " people working in advertising, public relations, and the media, ha ve come to dominate the cultural and social scene. The term " techno-ca pitalism" has been coined to capture the centrality of infor­ mation, specialized knowledge, and the media in this new economy. In techno-capital ism, new sources of profit have moved to the economic center stage, where corporations struggle for their control: large-scale information systems, disseminated through technologies of reproduc­ tion; the private realm of leisure, now structured by the twin spheres of consu mption and mass media; and the "culture industry" (advertising, mass media, publishing, education, etc. ). To take an example relevant to this study, large corporations now devote enormous resources and mar­ keting research to the commercial design of mass-mediated love stories (e.g., Harlequin romances, photo-novellas, women's magazines, " rela­ tionship" columns, comic books such as "Jackie"' ) . Romantic love is not only a theme of contemporary culture but also an economically au­ tonomous cultural field with its own heroes, genres, theories, and arti­ factsY This, in turn, makes romantic love the example par excellence of the " postmodern condition," in which economy has been transmuted into culture and culture into the transient and disposa ble world of goods. Although the meanings perpetuated by the postmodern romantic utopia are inclusive, populist, transgressive, and egalitarian, and al­ though the roma ntic utopia cuts across social divisions, it contains and reproduces these divisions because it demands the cultural and, secon­ darily, the economic capital of the new classes who have come to dominate the social scene. Romantic practices are intertwined with the meritocratic, work-oriented, and rational outlook of the sphere of production, and this outlook ultimately helps reproduce social divisions .

O R G A N I Z AT I O N O F T H E C H A P T E R S

Chapter

I

examines what happened t o the theme o f romantic love and

the image of the couple as they moved to cente r stage in the newly ex­ panding mass markets of leisure and as the vision of utopia they con­ veyed quickly expanded from individual to collective. The romantic utopia echoed and sustained another equally powerful utop ia, publ icized not only by social activists but-ironically enough-by advertisers as well, both of whom were promising or demanding the same Eldorado: leisure for all. Movies and advertising in newspapers, magazines, and billboards presented

a

flow of images with strong democratic overtones,

offering to all the utopian vision of relationships free of gender and class

Introduction divisions and combining the thri l ls of leisure with those of romance. In the utopia where love and leisure reign, romance , it is still bel ieved , can and should find permanent form in marriage , but romance is al so swept up in the new emphasis on beauty, youth , fame, and glamour. T his change signaled not only transformations in the definitions of marriage but also the progressive disappearance of cou n ship as a preparatory phase . In­ "

"

stead, as is documented in chapter 2, dating s u pplante d the practice of "calling on a woman" at her parents' home a nd relocated the romantic encounter to the public sphere of consumption: restau rants, movie the­ aters, and da nce halls . By inscribing the romantic encounter into the con­ su mption of leisu re, the practice of "dating" ma rked the symbolic and p r actica l penetration of romance by the market. This shifted the focus of the romantic encounter from marriage as a permanent and unique union to the fragmented but repeatable pursuit of pl easurab l e experiences. Th is new romantic formula , based in consumption, was made pos­ sible by the democ ra ti zatio n of certain goo d s and services hitherto re­ served to the elite s ( for example , touring in a car ) and by the middle classes' adoption of such working-class entertainments as movie atten­ dance. Although the adoption of practices from both h igher and lower classes spanned the whole range of soc i a l groups, this democratic utopia o f r omance and leisure remained with i n class divisions that had intensi­ fied with economic expansion. Although its rhetoric was all- inclusive, it reflected the worldview of emerging factions of the bourgeoisie-knowl­ edge experts, culture people-their lifestyle, taste s , and cultural compe­ tence. At the same time that the market appeared to transcend social di fferences within a common sphere of leisure consumption , the trans­ formations in the de fin itio n and practice of love acted out novel per­ ceptions of class relationships. The new romantic utopia gave voice to newly found mass access to goods but also to the different class identi­ ties and relationships implied in the use of such commodities. Thus the same process that, in loading romantic love with associations of money and commodities and the new techno l ogies of leisure, cut through tra­ ditional class divisions at the same time reorganized class identities around this new l y emerging definition of love. Fo l lowing my hypothesis that love enacts the utopian properties of lim­ inal rituals, I concentrate on the liminal properties of postmodern culture. 38 Al though the theme of liminality is pa rt icu larly h ighlighted in chapter 4, it runs thro ughout chapters 3 , 4 , and 5, which variously show that in post­ modern culture, the nexus of romance and consumption is embodied in diverse symbol ic forms of li m ina l ity, for example, in contemplating the

Introduction spectacle of nature (chapter 3 ) , in traveling (chapter 4), or in having "af­ fairs" (chapter 5 ) . Another feature of postmodern culture relevant to ro­ mantic love is what can be called the

penetration of everyday life by im­

ages , technologies , and commodities, a process that entails a threefold transformation of representations studied in chapters, 3. 4, and 5 . One aspect of this transformation i s the privileging of the image, a fea ­ ture of the postmodern era that distinguishes it from the premodern and modern eras, based respectively on orality and print. 39 This development, as shown in chapter I, began at the beginning of twentieth century, as movies and advertising images codified romance in visual vignettes of erotic intimacy, luxury, and leisure. Chapter 3 uses eighty advertising im­ ages collected between 1989 and 199 1 and an ana lysis of interviewees' reactions to photographs and advertising images of romance to map the postmodern romantic imagination. I argue that visual cliches associating romance with travel and nature now dominate advertising images of ro­ mance. These images offer the utopian vision of an organic bond , free of the inequalities of the public sphere of production, and mix nineteenth­ century bucolic traditions with a postmodern aesthetic sensibility. The second feature characteristic of postmodern culture is the privi­ leging of a

Dionysian aesthetic. Already during the 1 9 20S, working-class

pleasures and styles irrupted on the middle-class scene and were appro­ priated , a lbeit reluctantly, within a hedonist commercial formula of ro­ mance. Chapter 4 examines the full-blown expression of this formula in contemporary postmodern culture. On the basis of respondents' reports about their " romantic moments," I try to elucidate the process by which goods and technologies of leisure procure-if in fact they do-romantic pleasures . Contrary to my expectations, these pleasures did not have the unruly Dionysian character postulated for postmodern experiences. In­ stea d , they displayed the highly ordered Apollonia n aspect of religious rituals. Thus the romantic disorder p resumably brought about by the postmodern sphere of consumption is paradoxically mediated by socially binding and ordered rituals. The third feature characteristic of postmodern regimes of representa­

blurring of the boundary between the real and its rep­ resentation. The perception that this boundary was becoming increas­

tion concerns the

ingly vague is already discernible in cultural commentaries of the early twentieth century, which suspected that the romance was becoming a mere fabrication by Hollywood and that romantic fiction had replaced the real thing. Chapter 5 examines the validity of the belief, sti ll held by postmodern sociologists as well as by \a ypeop\e , that romantic love is

16

Introduction

n othing but a simul ati on of ci ne matic fiction . The an alysi s of respon­ den ts' interpretati ons of th ree di ffe rent love stories and of thei r own " m ost me morable l ove stories" suggests t h at ind i vidual histories are c r is sc ros se d by nar r ativ es from the m ass m ed i a t hat conflict with nar­

ratives g roun ded in everyday life. The analy sis of this contr adicti on between gl am o rous and mundane stories of lo·.. e le ads to the thi rd part of the book, which examines how the disc ourses of the sphere of pro­ du ct i on give me anin g to the experience of love in eve ryda y life.

On t he basis of middle -cl ass wome n's magazi nes, chapter 6 shows that thei r d iscussions of love draw on the u tili tari an la ngua ge and values of the work sphere. To b e p recise, in adv isi ng women on how to improve r oma ntic relationships, arti cles in th ese magazines employ tw o conflict­ i ng se ts of m eta phors: one uses the hedonist motives of the sphere of c ons ump tion (e.g. , to create or re juve nate s pontan e ity, adve ntur e , fun, authenticity ); the other-d ominan t-2 The au­ thor's attitude toward money is ambiguous: despite the last, comforting reassurance that a good date can be inexpensive, the messages that come across are that " money is necessa ry " in the dating system, that dating cheaply can be a difficult task, and that an expensive date is the norm. This advice book tries to help young people cope with this fact. The conclusion that middle-class affluence was a prerequisite for achieving the standard requirements of dating holds valid not only for the amount of money required but also for the manners considered ap­ propriate to rituals of co nsumpt i on. Legitimate romance required not only a certain a ffluence but familiarity with "prope r " manners as well. To return to the early decades of the cen t ury, a 1 9 2 3 advertisement for an etiquette book described a romantic dinner that turned increasingly sour as the couple n oticed small faults in each other's demeanor: "He had invited her to dinner. She had accepted. Now sitting opposite each other at the table , the y begin to see thi ngs they never saw before. They begin to see each other for the first time as they really are . . . . She sees with a little pang of disappointment that he is not the cultivated man she thought him . . . . Why does she stum ble so awk wardly with her fork ? Why does he seem so self-conscious, so ill at ease? Her evident embar­ rassment makes him feel uncomfortable, and suddenly he finds himself wishing he had never invited her. " Taking for granted that dining out was part of dating, this ad mixes the motif of date nervousness w ith a rhetoric of class by suggesting that a good date demanded the ease, com­ fort, and manners appropriate to middle-class "gentility" as well as fa­ miliarity w i th high-status forms of consumption. Embedded within the forma l system of calling was the a bility to erect barriers against "class intruders," suitors who were socially inappropriate. Dating threatened this well-protected order, for at the same time that it made vulnerable those who had no access to genreel manners and etiquette, it a lso offered greater possi b ilities for class mingli n g . And the etiquette books that had been widely available since the middle of the nineteenth century were l inked to the rise of middle classes in avid search of g u i del ines for social

Trouble in Utopia

71

mobility and gentility.63 The rules provided by these advice books fed on middle-class insecurities and strategies of social mobi lity. The romantic formula therefore drew on the genteel manners that the middle class as­ sociated with the consumption of leisure.64 The underlying idea that, for a date to be successful, appropriate middle-class manners are essential indicates that the romantic formula was associated with the emergence of what have been called institutions of "legitimate culture. "65 Indeed, as Paul Dimaggio and Lawrence Lavine have documented, during this period elites were particularly concerned with establishing new c ultural boundaries to counter the trends of cultural democratization that were threatening the legitimacy of their leadership. 66 Guides to etiquette published in the 1 9 605, such as the 1 96 3 Com­ plete Guide to Dating, extended the realm of familiarity with legitimate culture by giving precise instructions on how to behave at elegant restau­ rants, "concert dates," or " museum dates. " To facilitate the restaurant date, the book provides translations of the French names for dishes of­ fered on the menus of the elegant restaurants that are presumably the venue of such dates. Dining at expensive foreign restaurants was the ex­ pected norm, and when on a date, men and women were strongly ad­ vised to display the linguistic skills, the tastes, and cultural competence necessary to show ease in such settings. The 1 9 6 3 advice about concert dates also sounds similar to the ad for the 1 92.0S etiquette book: "You are nervous . . . because going to a concert isn't like going to the movies-everybody does that . . . . [Unless] you know the music awfully well, don't try to lead the applause. You may find yourself clapping alone. "67 This book, an aid to the socialization of young people into ro­ mantic and dating behavior, simultaneously provided socialization to middle-class gentility and cultural capital. As I argue more fully in chap­ ters 7 and 8, in the course of the twentieth century, love became in­ creasingly intertwined with new forms of socia l " distinction" : surplus income and time to invest in leisure pursuits and the knowledge and prac­ tice of the right upper-middle-class manners for each type of leisure con­ sumed (Bourdieu's "cultural capita l " ) . Romantic love thus became closely associated not only with the consumption of leisure goods but also with forms of "positional" consumption, aimed at displaying sta­ tus in a competitive system of social stratification. Taken at face value, these elements seem to indicate that the middle­ class dating system required a lifestyle, an income, and a level of education that discriminated against the lower classes. Dating not only

When Romance Met the Market

presuppose surplus time and money to invest in "disinterested" pursuits but also requires the manners of middle- and even upper-middle-class .. gentility. " However, several factors in the cultural history of leisure mitigate this conclusion. As argued earlier, certain middle-class forms of leisure originated with working-class practices. Furthermore, when leisure became commodified, it was also democratized. The cultural association of romance with leisure resulted from the legitimation of lower-class cultural practices as well as the democratization of luxury goods. If mass leisure did not make uniform the heterogeneous class practices of the upper and lower segments of society, it nevertheless drew them within the common arena of the market. Analyzing the market of early twentieth-centu ry America, historian Charles McGovern suggests that "the democracy of consumption also meant a universalizing of luxuries previou sly reserved for the rich. In this light consumption was a l eveli ng force in the social structure and the heir to traditional republican hostility to privilege_ "68 The leisure and market-based formula of romance can be seen as c on tributing to this de­ mocratization. This is borne out by the history of automobile owner­ ship, restaurants, and tourism. Beginning as the exclusive property of the wealthiest strata of society, they were increasingly purchased by poorer and younger people as they became less expensive. The practice of din­ ing out has upper-middle-class and aristocratic origins, but by the mid1 9 20S it had become democratized and spread throughout society.69 If we believe that advertising images reflect cultural practices, the sample of images analyzed earlier suggests that in th e years between 1 900 and 1 9 3 0 restaurants became closely associated with romance; by the 1 9 3 0S, certainly, they had become fully naturalized in the advertising represen­ tation of romance. And while what might be called "educational " tourism had long been practiced by aristocratic classes, it was only dur­ ing the opening decades of the tw'entieth century, with th e i ncreasing suc­ cess of workers' struggles for leisure time and the e fforts of local and na­ tional commercial promoters, that tourism became a popular pursuit, albeit still largely exhibiting class differences. This " trickle-down " process was accompanied, as we have seen, by a contrary, upward movement, the adoption and legitimation of certain working-class behaviors and values by the middle classes. Middle-class and working-class romantic styles and leisure practices initially confronted each other but uLtimately merged, through the appropriation and legitimation of working-class style by the middle

Trouble in Utopia

73

cl asses and through the democratization of luxury goods in the con­ sumer markets . The mi xed class underpinnings of romance and dating are well illus­ trated by a reader's letter to

Photoplay: " My husband cannot a fford an

automobile and as a result we are denied much of the enj oyment that ownership of a car affords. With financial worries and lack of outdoor life, we have discovered that 'Jack can become a dull husband and Jill a bored wife.' To preserve romance in our lives and to escape from dull evenings at home, we find adventure in the darkness of the movie the­ ater. . . . And we walk home with renewed love and courage anticipat­ ing the next of the best pictures of the month. " 70 As we saw earlier i n this chapter, a successful marriage must b e "entertaining. " Her h usband fears being dull, and the reader herself fears being bored. She assumes that having a car would relieve these anxieties, but their income is not sufficient to allow them to enjoy the pleasure of m otoring. The conclusion of this letter, however, invites us to resist a reductionist view of the working class as simply being "deprived" compa red to the middle class, by strongly suggesting that the inexpensive movies, with their exciting and romantic content, provided an easy outlet for this woman's thirst for romance in her life. The reader's fulfillment suggests that by legitimating inexpensive forms of leisure, the new twentieth­ century middle-class formula of romance enabled members of the working classes to enjoy their own practices within the boundaries of middle-class forms of consumption.71 This situatio n contrasts sharply with the exclusion of the working class by nineteenth-century middle­ class romantic practices. But because romance and leisure originated partly in working-class courtship practices, their social location was a m big u o us

.

On the one hand, the new system discriminated against those who could not afford the tra ppings of what would later become the "afflu­

ent society. " On the other, the incorporation of inexpensive dating prac­ tices into the romantic utopia and the democratization of l uxury goods may have allowed those with fewer resources to compete in the dating scene. In its new guise the dating system included those who had not been able to partake of the system of "calling" but who could afford to "go out" to movies, dance halls, and amusement parks; it excluded them, however, because they still lacked the means to attain the ex pensive lux­ ury goods deemed necessa ry for ideal-typical romance. It therefore be­ comes clear that the formula for middle-class romantic behavior was not middle-class per se but a compromise between " upper" and " lower"

74

When Romance Met the Market

cultural forces. The mass market of leisure incorporated romantic prac­ tices from both the bottom and the top of society. The impulse common to both movements was the expansion of the market, whose main agents were the commercial entrepreneurs who rejected traditional middle-class standards of gentility even as they tried to cater to middle-class tastes. The emergence of this middle-class formula of romance seems, then, to have been part of the elaboration of the "middle-brow " that gelled dur­ ing the twenties.72 Although this process had started during the nine­ teenth century, the emerging, rapidly spreading technologies of culture and leisure readily lent themselves to the simultaneous claim that high culture ought to be " democratized " and that popula r cultural practices ought to be gentrified. Two objections to the idea of a " political economy of romance" can be raised. The first is that the commodification of romance could be more fruitfully viewed in terms of gender politics than in terms of political economy. For example, in her excellent study of dating, Bailey argues that the expectation that men would pay for women weakened the power women had traditionally held in the cou rtship process and conferred it on the men, thus shifting from a system that regulated class relationships to one that regulated gender relationships.73 Because they were expected to pay, men were now entitled to initiate or terminate a romantic en­ counter. While it is undeniable that men's money became key to the dat­ ing process, it is, to say the least, very arguable that the new dating sys­ tem downplayed the class relationships that had hitherto presided and that it instead inaugurated unprecedented forms of male control. Men were expected to pay for the date, and women had to spend money for " grooming." The market constructed a nd reinforced definitions of mas­ culinity and femininity that made both men and women depend on dif­ ferent practices of consumption, practices that were ultimately congru­ ent with the interests of capitalist entrepreneurs, whether they sold beauty products, gasoline, or movie tickets. Because women espoused rather than resisted the distribution of roles within the dating system, this system favored men with the requisite surplus income and tended to discriminate against men with much fewer resources. Furthermore, while it is true that the market reinforced a definition of womanhood based on " seduction " and " physical beauty, " the combi­ nation of the hedonist ethos of consumption and the ideal of romance paradoxically provided women with an empowering narrative of per­ sonal liberation that sustained broader ideals of women's self-realization,

Trouble in Utopia

75

autonomy, and cla ims to equalityJ4 This narrative was already contained in the idea of romantic love as the rationale for choosing a partner, for romantic love by definition contains the idea that the choice of a partner is made freely rather than coerced and that partners' feelings must be equal and reciprocated . This vision of an autonomous a morous subject was underscored by the values of liberation and self-expression culti­ vated by the culture of consumption in general and by a dvertising in par­ ticular. What is more, by shifting the encounter from the confines of the home to the public and anonymous sphere of amusements, dating widened the pool of partners available to women and increased their sense of autonomy and empowerment. Finally, the rhetoric of consump­ tion that presided over the inception of the dating system undermines its own tendency to polarize gender identities and tends to draw male and female identities within a genderless rhetoric (see the next chapterl . The second possible objection to the claim that consumer capitalism is responsible for the role that commodities play in the pairing-up of cou­ ples could come from the ranks of anthropologists of the family. It is well known that in most societies marriage is marked by the open and ex­ plicit exchange of goods.75 This is clearly the case in preindustrial and to a certain extent modern non-Western societies. Why shouldn't the ex­ change of commodities in the romantic bonding in market economies be another instance of this widespread cultural practice ? The two kinds of exchange differ in several important respects. To be­ gin with, the modern ideology of romantic love is based on the idea that the bride and groom "price" is extraneous to the romantic sentiment. In modern romantic love, money and social status are not supposed to in­ terfere with sentiment, and choosing a partner solely on these grounds is usually considered improper. Thi s " disinterested " ideal stands in sharp contrast to the openly acknowledged view of marriage as an economic and even profitable transaction that predated the rise of the modern ro­ mantic ideal. It is indeed the rejection of "' interested" or calculated ac­ tion that is at the crux of the modern romantic ideal (and ideolog Y l _ Thus, in contrast to the openly " interested " nature of traditional marriage, modern romance is equated with "disinterestedness ." Moreover, while the p remodern marriage invo lved a n exchange between two people or two fa milies, the romantic consumption of leisure is not strictly speaking an act of exchange, but the mutual participation of two people in the consumption ( that is, the purchase) of goods provided by the market. In other words, the ma rket and not the romantic partner receives compensation for the commodity. In

When Rom ance Met the Ma rket

traditional marriage, the goods exchanged were usually durable and of instrumental value, satisfying physica l needs and increasing prop­ erty; the goods consumed in modern romance are transient and expe­ riential, purchased to provide pleasure and thus having the cha racter of "hedonist" commodities. Finally, the substantial value of goods tra­ ditionally exchanged is meant to seal the bond between the partners ( and their families or clans ), but the exchange does not constitute the event of m arriage itself. In modern dating, however, the consumption of commodities becomes an end in itself, the attainment of an intimacy that is only temporary. Indeed, since the cultural novelty of "dating" lies precisely in its not implying marriage, the dating period is often one of intense consumerist activity whereby two people interact with the surrounding public culture and come to know each other within this framework.76 In the modern romantic ideal it is the very act of con­ sumption that consti tutes and creates the romantic moment. The modern formula for romance has imbued the commodities-and the technologies of communication they rely on-with a symbolic and emotiona l life distinct from their economic value as such. What is truly novel about the role o f commodities in romance is that they structure its experiential boundaries and are endlessly repeatable, " recyclable . " The hedonist, transient, a nd highly symbolic aspect of these commodities point us to a "postmodern cultural economy of romance," explored in the next section of the book. CON CLUSI O N

Cultural analysts typically assume that the content of culture is nor di­ vorced from the social and economic conditions under which it is pro­ duced, a lthough the extent and the nature of this "dependence " are highly controversial topics. While the market occupies a central place in this framework, in my own analysis I do not offer a causal model that would explain the commercialized formula of romance in terms of the " functional needs" of all-encompassing and ineluctable market forces. As I have argued throughout, market-based practices of consumption were encouraged by evolving cultural definitions of love and marriage, which lent new meaning to the purchase of leisure, beauty products, and a wide gamut of other mundane goods. Although the expansion of the leisure market was certainly a necessary condition for the commercial­ ization of romance, this commercialization was articulated within a sys­ tem of cultural meanings and class and gender relationship s that in-

Trouble in Utopia

77

scribed the new, market-based formula of romance deeply within peo­ ple's everyday lives, aspirations, and anxieties. The commodification of romance cannot be separated from growing cultura l appetites for such "goods" as abundant leis ure and eternal excitement, appetites that ren­ dered meaningful and desirable the new leisure goods offered by cul tural entrepreneurs. As we have seen, in the early years of this century courtship and mar­ riage, romance and love became increasingly tied to new markets for leisure and personal commodities . As it came to be increasingly associ­ ated with signs of affluence, the meaning of " romantic " changed, refer­ ring more and more to an

atmosphere and a type of setting conducive

to certain feelings. The possibility of romance came to depend on the correct, exte rna l mise-en-scene: theaters, dance halls, restaurants, set­ tings seen in movies and advertising images. This dependence was ex­ tended by the intrusion of the pressure to consume into the intimacy of marriage. Paradoxically, at the same time that the distinction between intense but ephemeral romantic experiences and long-term, eHordul re­ lationships was being sharpened, the terms of this distinction were be­ coming less intelligible, beca use the new ideal of marriage and love pre­ scribed that fleeting and intense pleasures should and could be mixed with domestic models of love based on compatibility and rational se l f­ control . As we will see in chapters 5 , 6, and 7, the blurring o f the bound­ ary between "romance " and " long-lasting love, " or rather the a ttempt to merge them into a single model, has rendered problematic the ability to choose between two incongruent cultural and emotional re pertoires. This new, self-contradictory formula of romance was the outcome of social and symbolic struggles between di fferent worldviews. The early resistance to the introduction of hedonist values into marriage expressed a broader conflict, between the traditional, " P rotestant" work ethic of the sphere of production, whose sobriety and self-control were seen as central to fa mily life as well, and the hedonist ethic of the sphere of con­ sumption, exemplified in the new "hot" romance. The hedonist and the entrepreneurial economic ethics paralleled respectively a romantic ethos based on the pursuit of fleeting pleasure and one oriented toward l ong­ lasting bonds based on reason and control . Following Daniel Bell's fa­ mous thesis, I propose that a lready in the early twentieth century there was a disjunction between a vision of love based on the themes and im­ ages of the sphere of consumption and one based on the val ues and dis­ course of the sphere of production.77 Contrary to Bell, however, I view the contradiction between these two ethics as subsumed by a higher

When Romance Met the Market

order of rationality, that of capital in the largest possible sense, cultural as well as economic. By incorporating middle-class culture of re­ spectability and "genteelity," the new romantic formula introduced forms of "cultural capital." According to Pierre Bourdieu, cultural cap­ ital is expressed in one's familiarity with legitimate culture that in turn positions one in a system of social classification and differences . At the same time that the traditional, "legitimate" middle-class culture of solid economic achievement and respectability in romantic-sexual behavior continued to exert its claims, men and women came to expect each other to display a familiarity with the rules of dating. Men and women were supposed to consume leisure, but they were supposed to consume it by displaying their familiarity with middle-class legitimate culture_ The new formula presupposed not only a relative degree of affllJence but also a familiarity with manners that marked partners as "respectable" and "ed­ ucated. " Thus the new definitions of romance were not the ineluctable expression of broad market forces, but rather a cultural form articulat­ ing economic forces within class relationships.

My refusal to yield to a "final" causal model of cultural change is due to the very character of the transformations discussed. This new "ro­ mantic political economy" was neither based on autonomous economic forces unleashed by consumer capitalism nor was it the straightforward outcome of emerging cultural trends.7s Rather, it foreshadowed the re­ configured relations of the cultural and economic that characterize post-World War II "postmodern culture." As many authors now recog­ nize, postmodern culture is characterized by the fantastic outgrowth of the cultural sphere v is-ii-vis the economic one-not because the former has overridden the latter, but because the zone of conttol exened by capitalism moved from production to the sphere of culture via the t hreefold articulation of consumption, leisure, and mass media. Post­ modern romance is thus firmly located in the discourses and institutions that have been designed by the cultural entrepreneurs of capitalism. It is within this framework that [ turn to examine contemporary practices of romance.

PART

2

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air Love a s a Postmodern Condition

C H A PTER 3

From the Romantic Utopia to the American Dream I would l ike to remind us

. . .

that numerous so-called

utopian dreams . . . have been fulfilled. However, insofar as these dreams have been realized, they all operate as though the best thing about them had been forgouen-o ne is not happy about

them. Theodor Adorno, "Something's Missing; A Discussion between Ernst Bloch and Theodor W. Adorno on the Contradictions of Utopian Longing "

Fro m th e 1 9 2.05 on, as a d ve rt ising shifted its concerns from p rovidi ng in­

formation a b ou t pr od uc ts to l in k i ng produ ct s with such i n ta n gi bl e s as h app i ness and warm human relationships as well as fashion, beauty, ce le brity, and glamorous l i fe s ty l e s, ad ve rt i s i n g started to have the ethe­ real q u a l i ty of dreams, made all the m ore pe rsuas iv e by being rep re sente d in the realistic media of p hotogr a ph y and film. " By the I 9 2.0S in the United States, a dv e rtis in g had become a prolific p rod ucer of v i s ual images with n or ma ti ve overtones, a con tri b u tor to the society's shared d aydr eam s . " 1 Pe r s o ns and things lin k ed in dreamlike fantasies, o fferi ng gl i mp ses of a realm w h e re abundance and love flowed freely, ta pp ed into consumers' desires for lo ve, freedom, and equality as well as for y o u t h , beauty, sta­ tus, a nd wealth. Advertising thus made available a ri c h lexicon and a power ful syntax to fo r m u l ate visions of h a rm o ny, intimacy, and s u cc es s . As the iconography . . . of a bu nd a nc e, " 2 advertising has linked market forces and consumers' desires thro ugh m e a ni n gs . The ce ntral meaning of a d v erti s in g, as Ra y mon d Williams ha s so aptly suggested, is to have elevated material goods to a s pir i t u al level, and in this sense, it has pro­ moted consumption through a m ul ti p l i city of desires . At the center o f

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

advertising is the meta phor that relationships between people and indi­ viduals themselves are mediated by things. In this chapter we turn from an historical account of how romance met the market and begin to map the contemporary " reincarnation" of the romantic utopia in postmodern culture. Advertising is a privi­ leged s ite to study utopias because it is itself primarily an aesthetic of utopia, drawing on a well-established pool of symbols, images, and topai that, even when fallen to the level of cliches and double-speak, can stir up and express deep desires for freedom, pleasure, abundance, intimacy, power, happiness. It offers not only a coherent universe of idealized objects, landscapes, and social relationships but a lso an aes­ thetic combining the art of rhetoric with the evocative power of dreams. The power of advertising lies not in regimenting conscious­ ness but rather in articulating mea nings that bind consumers' desires to market forces. Romance was one of the most powerful "channels of desire " used by advertisers to make their imagery at once lifelike and dreamlike.3 By presenting commodities as attributes of erotic attrac­ tion or achieved intimacy, advertisers used romance to fetishize con­ sumption, that is, to transpose erotic desire onto goods, which in turn became themselves the very objects of desire. In this way, the inert realm of commodities was insufflated life through the "spirits " of love. Thus, as Raymond Williams noted, advertising does not make culture "materialistic" but rather elevates material goods to a quasi-spiritual level and in this way becomes the " official art of capitalism. "4 In this respect, advertising is an a b breviated lexicon of contemporary American dreams and can provide a map to orient ourselves in the in­ tricate meanings and ideals that haunt the romantic imagination of con­ temporary culture. Thus, if we cannot always comprehend the nature of social relationships from the content of advertising, we can at least get a glimpse of the dreams dreamed "out loud " by postmodern culture. Deciphering such dreams can be instructive, for they point us to struc­ ture of meaning, feeling, and personal identity within which some of the contemporary cultural standards o f romance are formulated . Post­ modern romance is characterized by the fusion of culture with com­ modity, the construction of desire within the idioms of consumption. As I show in this chapter, if the un ion of romance and commodities is such an obsessi ve theme of American capitalist culture in general and of ad­ vertising in particular, it is because it intertwines and puts at the center stage of our collective imagination two powerful motives, a euphoric vi· sion of harmonious human relationships and the American dream that

From

Romantic Utopia

to American Dream

consumption affirms both democratic access to affluence and the orig­ inality of the individual self. "YOU C O U L D BE H E R E , N O W "

I collected and ana lyzed eighty advertising photographs from diverse American magazines directed toward a heterogeneous midd le- to u pper-midd le-class audience ( Time, Newsweek, Harper's, The Atlantic Monthly, The New York Times Magazine ) . 5 All the images appeared between 1 9 8 9 and 1 99 1 . Although I expected romance to be associ­ ated with a wide variety of products, as was the case during the 1 9 2.0S, I found that it is in fact associated with a relatively narrow range, pri­ marily perfumes, makeup and clothing, l iquor, cigarettes, hotels, travel destinations, and diamonds. Unsurprisingiy, these products were tar­ geted to relatively a ffluent consumers, for whom leisure and the culti­ vation of " good taste " are central to lifestyle and identity. These im­ ages therefore provide us with a convenient access to the idea l-typical definitions of what advertisers, relying on marketing research and the cues provided by the surrounding culture, consider "middle-class" de­ sirable standards of romance and affluence .6 By and large, the three product categories in this sa mple most often associated with romance were those contributing to image-building (e.g., perfume, dress, and makeup ) , leisure (e.g., hotel, travel, and drink­ ing), and gift-giving (e .g., d iamond s ) . During the 1 9 2.05 and 1 9 3 0S these products were explicitly summoned either to help one find a mate by increasing one's attractiveness or to consolidate an existing but fragile bond, but the ads for those products never amounted to what has be­ come, in contemporary sensibility, a crude solicitation to consumption. A woman was not explicitly advised to use a perfume to increase her chances of finding a mate or of p reserving her marriage. Instead, the product typically appears as one element among others (or may even, as in the hotel advertisement that follows, be virtually invisible ) of a spectacle in which the act of consumption is merged with the vision o f a reciprocated intimacy. A 1990 advertisement for Continental Hotels shows a man and a woman having lunch in elegant surroundings. Part of the text below the image reads: '" I'm sorry,' she apologized, ' I 've go t the giggles. ' I didn 't know they were on the menu, ' he said . " This im­ age and text do not try to convince or to sell in the traditional sense. Instead, the goal is to allow the viewer-consumer to penetrate the pri­ vate intimacy of a romantic moment in which consumption is taken for '

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

granted as natural. In contemporary advertisements, the viewer­ consumer is not targeted for a rhetoric of persuasion-"buy me because I wil l get you love"-but rather is made a voyeur to a spectacle of intimacy and inconspicuous consumption. The absence of a mediating sales pitch reveals more clearly the metaphysics of advertising, in which the distance between subj ect and object of consumption, between the product and the relationship that it helped realize has vanished. Products not only point to but are shared intimate moments of cele­ bration (e.g., champagne ), sensual pleasure (e.g., cognac), or, to quote an ad for Pa rliament cigarettes, a " perfect recess," the recessed filter of the cigarette suggesting a recess for two (or three, if one incl u d e s the cigarette) , a withdrawal into a lovers' grotto created by the act of shar­ ing a smoke . Another, even more radical way of breaking down the boundary be­ tween consumption and feeling, object and subject, consists in making the product itself the end of the erotic and romantic desire. For ex­ ample, an advertisement for Hennessy cognac shows a dose-up of a man and a woman, passionately embracing and kissing. The ad reads, "If you have ever been kissed you already know the feeling of Cognac Hennessy. " The message of the advertising supported by the pictorial amalgam of the kiss and the bottle is that consumption provides an equivalent, even a sub­ stitute, for erotic intimacy. Furthermore, in their embrace the couple form the shape of the cognac bottle. Kot only does this visual pun drive home the inseparability of romance and consumption, but the product itself evaporates, leaving the feelings it has evoked as a pure, distilled essence. A widespread advertising image of the I 9 3 05 showed a woman suc­ cessfully captivating and enthralling an otherwise reluctant partner. The implicit problem addressed by the product was seduction, how to attain or rejuvenate a n intimate relationship. The maj ority of contemporary images, however, offer the spectacle of fully realized, repeated intimacy. The sharing of moments, objects, words, and gestures known or acces­ sible only to the couple is at center stage. Couples display their osten­ sible closeness by hugging, kissing, dancing, holding hands, looking at each other insistently, closely embracing each other-poses of physical intimacy in which the relationship of bodies and faces approaches phys­ ical and emotional fusion. The intimacy shown in such images always transpires during an act of consumption, but the consumption is sub­ s u med under or merged with the realm of emotion and sensation. The concrete, specific materiality of the products has vanished into the im­ palpable realm of feeling. Romance-as wel l as the products that signify

From Romantic Utopia to American

Dream

85

i t a n d are signified b y it-takes place in a n idealized, timeless utopia of intimacy and consumption. The imbibing of alcohol condenses all the feelings of celebration; smoking cigarettes signifies relaxation and with­ drawal into a private world; in diamonds love goes on forever. Although these couples seem to be well-established and happily married, these ads rarely refer explicitly in text to marriage, and certainly never refer to marriage on the brink of disaster, as ads d id during the 1 9 20S and 1 9 3 0S. Instead, they summon the understated vision of a stable and intimate conjugality (usually manifested by a conspicuous wedding ring, primarily through the use of models older than young adults: many cou­ ples seem to be in their twenties, but a larger number seem to belong to the category of "thirty-something," people who have attained the marital stability and middle-class or upper-middle-class professional status often associated with "maturity. " The target audience reflected by these models is not a surprising choice: married couples represent a larger share of the market and are more likely to have greater financial resources than single-headed households or dating couples. Nevertheless, a lthough marriage is subsumed u nder the cultural cate­ gory of " romance " ( in contrast to the ads of the 1 9 3 05, which presented the two as potentially incompatible ), this model of couple hood is non­ domestic. It is significant that children never appear in these images of married couples and that the setting almost never appears to be " home." Excluding a vision of reproductive and institutionalized fam­ ily life, they offer vignettes of couples oriented to the pursuit of private pleasure and the cultivation of personal sentiments. In the rare cases where the couple is shown at home, the domestic vignette is highly aes­ theticized . For example, in an ad for diamonds, a man and a woman dressed in casual clothes are shown playing their piano, while pas­ sionately kissing each other. An ad for a coffee brand pictures a couple lying on the floor in front of an intense fire in a rustic and beautifully sculpted fireplace. Another ad for china shows the man dressed in a tuxedo and the woman in an elegant evening gown, laughing while preparing their meal together in their kitchen . In its refusal of the mun­ dane and everyday, this vision of ideal romance, as we shall see, enacts an anti-institutional self within the confines of economically successful and institutionalized couplehood. Congruent with the utopian vision, the physical intimacy depicted in ads offers a vision of equality and not one of domination or submission. Occasionally, the pictures do show men in protective postures and

86

A l l That I s Romantic Melts into Air

women in admiring ones, but in the majority the poses do not indicate that the man dominates the woman . To the contrary, the physical and, we can infer, the emotional closeness manifested in these images point to an egalitarian bond in which the two selves strive to merge. The fre­ quent use of extrem e close-ups (of kissing lips, e nra ptured faces, etc. ) precludes identification of what sociologist Erving Goffman called " hyperritualized signs of gender," by which gender is emphatically underscored by clothing, makeup, and body postures. Although these s igns occasionally appear in vignettes of seduction or first encounters, they a re conspicuously understated when the couple shares an intimate moment . For example, the soft focus-typically used to s ignify gentle­ ness, emotion, and intimacy-has connotations of " femininity " and tends to blur, at least visually, the gender differences normally apparent in clothing, makeup, and demeanor by associating men with " feminine" attributes. The i ntimacy of a couple parta king of leisure hence offers the i mage o f a n eroticized equality, which defuses the male's traditional pro­ tectiveness and the female's submissivenessJ The equality of most of these couples can be explained in part by the fact that many of the p roducts advertised (cigarettes, liquor, travel) are gea red to both men and women. And beca use in the world of advertis­ i ng the subject of consumption is always " free" to consume, such free­ dom implicitly conveys that consumers are equal. The rhetoric of se­ duction is no less geared to men than it is to women in the encouragement of image building and physical attractiveness and in the promise to both of an eternal, leisure-filled romance . 8 But the " gender-free" tona lity of these images is not a postmodern androgyny. Instead, it is a blurring of the distinction between male and female attributes within the traditional female sphere of emotions and intimacy. The gender less face of romance is also that of consum ption at large. As historian Lawrence Birken argues, the nineteenth-century gender division has been erased by "an egalitarian ideology of consumers united under the single function of desire_"9 According to Birken, the long-term trend of Western culture toward the dissolution of hierarchy found a powerful cat­ a lyst in the encounter of psychoanalysis, which underwrote a ssertions of h umans' initially androgynous nature with claims to be a science, with the democratizing culture of consumption. Although mass industrial capital­ ism, Birken's a rgument goes, continued to insist on gender stereotypes and division of roles (in nonromantic advertising or in the depa rtment store, for example), it ena bled children and women to gain emancipation as con­ sumers. Psychoanalysis played an important role in shifting the view from

From Romantic Utopia to American Dream the productive subject to the desiring one and in disentangling sexuality from the realm of reproduction and relocating it in the realm of desire. The genderless double desire for goods and romance has increasingly per­ meated what is usually thought to be a bastion of gender stereotypes, ad­ vertising images featuring men and women in romantic poses. This intimate equality is emphatically marked by the almost total seclusion of the couple from the rest of the world. Among the eighty ad­ vertisements I rev iewed, seventy-three p resent the couple as completely isolated: no one but the couple appears in the picture. The other seven contain people other than the couple, but in three of these, these char­ acters are so bl urry and distant that thei r presence is negligible. In the four remaining pictures, the supplementary characters are present only to serve the couple (e.g., a waiter, a pianist playing only for the couple, or a bystander benevolently looking at the romantic coup le ) . The only image where the surrounding characters a re not expressly directed to­ ward the couple i nvolves a sailor passionately kissing his "girl" in the midst of an indifferent crowd. But even here, as in Robert Doisneau's famed photograph " Le Baiser de l'hotel de ville," the circle formed by the embraced bodies in the midst of the crowd underscores the intimacy and spontaneity of the kiss. The vignette of the secluded couple is the visual embodiment of what cultural historian Karen Lystra has dubbed the " romantic self. " In her study of nineteenth-century love, Lystra shows that the ideal of the ro­ mantic self was

a

crucial component of individual self-rea lization and

personal happiness. l O Undoubtedly, the romantic icons of contemporary advertisements resonate with the nineteenth-century cultural ideal of the romantic self, but the mundane passion of material success has been re­ placed by the spectacle of leisurely consumption. [n contradistinction to the nineteenth-century vision, the contemporary vision of secluded couplehood does not mean a retreat from the public sphere and an entry into the warmth of familial privacy. Rather, it signifies a complete withdrawal from the proceedings, rules, and constraints of the urban industrial world and an entry into the euphoric realm of leisure . Whereas during the nineteenth century the middle-class romantic self gave access to family stabil ity, gender roles, and the elevated world of introspection, in contemporary culture the cultivation of the romantic self can release Dionysiac energies, geared toward living the present moment to its fullest. Numerous ads present romance as a realm of pure feeling, sen­ suality, and instantaneous pleasure, free of the friction and power strug­ gles of real relationships and attained more by magic than by wor k .

Examples abound: "If you bel ieve in one great love as many people do . . . then you should wear Jontue," or "lf you've ever been kissed you a l ready know the feeling of Cognac Hen n ess y. " A tourism ad for Ja maica reads, " The realm of t he Seven Senses, where all plea sures begin. " An

ad for cham pagne uses the theme of magic: " Find a m o men t . Make it m a gic. Uncork the Magic of Korbel." An ad for a man's cologne gives the simple but intense motto " Pure Attraction." An ad for Martell cognac invites us to " Po u r two glasses o f Martell Cognac: one for y o u and one for som eo n e you love. Then proceed to kiss in whatever man­ ner p le a se s you." An ad for Quebec mixes gastronomic hedonism with the excitement of falling in love: " Somewhere between the salade d'en­ dives a n d the last sp o o n fu l of mousse au chaco/at, we fell in love all over ag a in . " A c le a r picture of the ideal romance emerges from these slogans: romance offers the experience of i n t e nse feeling, u n inhi b i ted sensuality, instant gratification, spontaneous p lea su re , fun, in highly aestheticized settin gs removed from everyday li fe . Romance has little place for val ues of self-control, effort, and c ompromise, which, according to advice lit­ er a tu re and con vent io na l wisdom, are necessary for a successful rela­ tionship as well. The pursuit of the romantic self no l onge r bases per­ sonal i d entity, male or female, on the effortful model of re l a ti onship or on the va lues of productive work i n general. Acc ord i ng to the structuralist the ory of culture , a cultural category finds its meaning in the relationships of difference it entertains with other cultural categories. In the realm of advertising, ro m a nce is opposed to the routine of everyday life and, more specifically, to work. This oppo­ sition transcends appeals to e ith er gender a n d provides the key to un­ derstanding the category of romance in postmo de rn culture. It can be se e n at work in numerous examples. In an ad for me n 's di a m onds, a w om a n is sh own kissing the man after she has given him a diamond ring. Both are dressed in bu si nes s clothes, but the man's tie is u n t ie d , indicat­ ing either that they have fi nishe d their wo rkd a y or that romantic pas­ sion undoes the constraints of the w o rkp lace . Further, the ad appeals equally to men and w omen in its reversal of stere oty p ic a l gender be­ h avio r (here, the women is active, the man the passive recipient ) . The icon t h rough which the opposition of roma nce a n d work is most effectively expressed, however, is that of t ra vel . One a d , which can stand for many, shows a m an a nd a woman smiling at each other with radiant faces as they sit on t he terrace o f a cafe behind which stands the famed Eiffel Tower. As Roland Barthes succinctly put it, the Eiffel Tower "be­ longs to the universal language of travel . " l 1 This symbol makes clea r the

From Romantic Utopia to American Dream couple's removal from their everyday life back in the United States and confers on their experience the beauty, prestige, and romance conven­ tionally associated with the city of Paris. In an ad for Hyatt Hotels, which bills them as escape sites for romantic partners, a couple walks on a rope bridge, in the midst of luxuriant exotic vegetation. The caption on the bottom of the advertisement reads " Here's to long commutes, bad meet­ ings, worse weather, and being as far away as possible from all of them. " Because it is not clear whose voice, man's or woman's, is speaking, the ad in effect addresses men's and women's common desire to be away from the anonymous "them " of work. Another Hyatt ad, showing a couple dressed in elegant silk robes sipping from glasses of champagne, relaxing near a basket of orchids, reads, "Tomorrow Sunday brunch and then what? Whatever we feel like! " This ad, also geared equally to men and women, tries to sel l "the Hyatt touch," a vague concept arousing vague feelings, the appeal of which comes from opposition to the work­ day world of constraints, control, and frustrations. Similarly, a n umber of advertising images show a couple dressed in elegant clothes, walking barefoot on the seashore or dipping their feet in a swimming pool. This cliche mixes the value of luxury with freedom from protocol, going bare­ foot adding a pinch of nonconformism and spontaneity. In another ad,

Money magazine sells itself as an instrument for financial success by showing a stereotypical vignette of vacation: a man and a woman dressed in casual summer clothes are on a beach watching the sunset, a boat in the distance. The text of the advertisement reads, "Travel magazines tell people about places like this. We actually help them get there . " Here again the ad is gender-neutral and-surprisingly for a magazine targeted primarily to the business world-includes both men and women in its promise for " life after work, " a package deal encompassing romance, leisure, and travel. With the "traveling couple" image, the search for different a nd in­ tense experiences that has become such an intimate part of contempo­ rary definitions of romance translates into visions of natural landscapes and exotic locales. The title of this section, " You Could Be Here, Now, " exemplifies advertising's persistent invitation to bring the world of travel and exoticism to the here and now. The motto appears in an ad for Citibank showing a man and woman dressed in summer clothes walk­ ing under the bright l ight of the sun near a swimming pool. Gone are a bank's usual appeals to the cautious mentality of saving and future­ oriented rationality to ensure domestic security. Instead, by enjoining people to be ful l consumers of leisure, travel, and romance, this ad

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

suggests that we abandon the linear temporality of work and dip into an intense present of pleasure and leisure. An ad for Mexico (a rare case where the man and the woman are not involved in close physical contact) shows the naked torso of a man standing on the balcony of a hotel room fu rnished in rural Spanish style . Beyond the ba lcony appears a white stucco c hurch, also in the Spanish style. A woman is sitting on the bed, in a nightgown, after what we presume was an intense scene of lovemaking. The text of the ad reads "Merida, eveni ng. At the window, as evening nears, you hear a faint guitar, a song of love floating in the breeze . And though you don't speak the language , on this night you know every word." By mixing travelogue style, romantic rhetoric, and the di­ rect address characteristic of advertising propaga nda, this text inter­ weaves the foreign and the exotic with romantic cliches of love songs and the sensual l anguor of tropical countries, thus creating a highly aes­ theticized vignette in which the longing for exoticism and perfect leisure mixes with the sensuality of lovemaking. An ad for the British gin Beefeater shows a couple in bathing suits, the man sitting on the branch of a palm tree, the woman lying in a hammock attached to the same branch, both just above the sea. The ad reads, " There are 1 5 private is­ lands for sale in the Caribbean. But there's only one Beefeater. " Playing on a dream thought to be familiar to most American middle-class men and women, that of owning a private island, the ad mixes the fantasy of everlasting roma nce obtained through liberation from the constraints of productive work with fantasies of absolute private property (an island gives the illusion of complete sovereignty) and consummate individual­ ism (Robinson Crusoe transformed into an eternal vacationer). The double theme of travel and romance is so ubiquitous that i t can be abstracted, reduced to a few key symbols, and still be understood. For example, a series of advertisements for Parliament cigarettes shows a couple standing amid monumenta l , bla n k , white geometrical forms that, despite representing no recognizable referent such as the Eiffel Tower or the Merida cathedral, nonetheless s uccessfully evoke exotic locales: vertical white columns for " Greece," a white pyramid for " Egypt," a low white cyl inder for " Mediterranean" houses, just as the bare background of intense blue suggests gen eric Southern skies. These are highly stylized and quasi-a bstract symb ols of nonindustrialized, non urban count ries stereotypically a ssociated with romance. The re­ duction of realistic scenery to minima list geometrical fo rms, carica­ tures of exotic locales, suggests that advertising's cliches have become

From Romantic Utopia to American Dream

91

so well established that they, rather than the actual locales, can func­ tion as referents and objects of desire. ( The sliding of meaning can be seen in another visual cliche, couples photographed in a magnified close-up with their shoulders naked. Because this image most often is used to sell sungla sses or has a beach in the background, naked shoul­

ders become a sign of summer vacation rather than, as one m ight ex­ pect, of eroticism . ) These abstract symbols point to a n essential aspect of these icons of romance : they are meant not to refer to specific times, places, or monu­ ments but rather to evoke a generic s pace of travel and leisure. Analyz­ ing the aesthetics of advertising, Michael Schudson argues that " ab­ straction is essential to the aesthetic and intention of contemporary national consumer-goods advertising. It does not represent reality nor does it build a fully fictive world . It exists, instead, on its own plane of reality, a plane I will call capitalist realism. By this term, I mean to label a set of aesthetic conventions, but I mean also to link them to the p oliti ­ cal economy whose values they celebrate and promote. " 12 I would add to Schudson's statement that i f abstraction is central to capitalist realism and, more specifically, to the advertising icons of romantic travel, that is because it transmutes complex symbols into collectively shared utopias.

More than any other romantic icon, the vacation ima ge has a utopian significance, for as Ernst Bloch has a rgued , utopia describes an altern a ­ tive, more desirable set of relationships .in a di fferent time a n d place. 1 3 Although produced b y and for specific cl asses, vacations a i m to tran­ scend class boundaries. As in ritual holiday celebrations, during vaca­ tions social boundaries colla pse as participa nts share rela xation and pleasure. Leisure time in general and vacation time especially (the epit­ ome of leisure) contain dreams not only of freedom and affluence but a lso of authentic, uncoerced social bonds. Such a d ream opens up a vi­ sion of sacred time, in which boundaries of past, present, and future are also suspended. As historian of leisure Gary Cross suggested, vacation is the "transcendence of modern industrial people for whom an afterlife [has] become less tangible. "14 As

we

shall now see, the alternative space

and time of the romantic utopia a re most complete ly expressed in the image of th.e natural landscape .

S U C H A N ATU R A L L O V E At the heart o f contemporary Western culture is the division between the " staged " self, enacting itself in the public sphere, and the "true" sel f,

All That Is Romantic Me lts into Air

whose home is the private sphere of family, love, and emotions. I S How­ ever, departing somewhat from this dichotomy, co ntem p orary advertis­ ing suggests that the genu ine and authentic romantic self is best revealed not in the private confines of the domestic sphere or in the crowded s p a ces of com mercial entertainment but rather in the i ntermediary, l iminal zone formed b y leisure, travel, and nature . 1 6 Nature is the ro­ mantic decor par excellence beca use it is the only symbolic site that, by minimizing or eliminating references to social, family, or gender roles, enables the full expression of "'pure" feelings and thereby releases the authentic self. Natural landscapes constitute by far the most widespread visual syn­ tagm in advertising images of romance . Thirty-one images out of the eighty in my sample are situated in natural settings, with twenty-two by a sea or lake and the rest in the woods or the c ountrys i de . The ideal­

typical romantic moment occurs in a remote place, on an exotic island, near the sea, a dense forest, a serene lake-in short, in a s p ace symboli­ cally cut off from the industrial and urban world of work, offices, and business. The nature of advertising is not the nature of farmers or farm workers, however. Rather, its is signified th r o ugh the conv enti o n s and ic o nogr aphy established by nineteenth-century l andscape painting. The French ic ono graph ic tradition-which was so influentia l in mod­ ern iconography--encapsulated nature within codified " scenes" and tableaux and incorporated it into emer gi ng forms of urban consump­ tion. Nicholas Green, cu ltural historian of Fre nc h nineteenth-century pai nting, observes that t he nineteenth-century la ndsca pe painting is essent i a l ly a "private and domestic affair," an apt remark in relation to advertising. In this packaged nature, divided into recognizable vignettes, the viewer-buyer could contemplate the spectacle of a Nature at his own scale, readily available for gaze. In advertising imagery, the natural land­ scape is replete with residues of this nineteenth-century bourgeois ide­ ology. N ature's seemingly untamed wilderness evokes Crusoe-like fan­ tasies of sovereignty and mastery, yet also reflects the couple's feelings and allows the expression of thei r a uthentic selves. In this sy m bo l ic space, which negates the world of consumption and cities, the couple finds the "confirmation o f self a lo ngside the immersion of i ndividuality into something larger. " 1 7 This "something larger" opens up the possi­ bility of a utopian vision of the romantic self in which nature functions not only as an alternative geographical space but a lso as a vehicle that transports the couple into utopian ti me , through two different modes of representation, the no s ta l gic and the su blime.

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The aesthetic of nostalgia transports the viewer-con sumer to the past through established codes that both signify the past and erase our distance

from it. The nostalgic, as Frederic Jameson observed,

approaches the present " by way of the pastiche of the stereotypical past, endows present reality and the o penness of present h istory with the spe l l a n d distance of a glossy image. " I S Advertising's images are literally "glossy, " and the stereotyped past they most often invoke is a n imagined time before modernity. The " premodern " is realistically signified through clothes, a natural decor from which most or all references to technology have been erased, and a softness in the grain of the photog­ raphy stereotypically associated with the "gentee l " world of the nine­ teenth century. Drawing on the ideal of nature articulated by American artists, writers, poets, and philosophers of the nineteenth century, the pastoral utopia in advertising imagery, and in mainstream American cul­ ture in general, embodies values and ideals opposed to the decay brought about by technology, l a rge urban centers, and the competitiveness of the workplace. 19 Roland Marchand has found this antimodern bias already present in advertising images of the 1 9 2.0S, in what he called the " great parable of civilization redeemed," the idea that civilization is bad and that nature can save us from it.20 �ature-and with it romantic love­ is thus connected to what has been called an " anti-institutional self," wnich arose during the nineteenth century. As Lystra has suggested, "Though variously expressed, nineteenth-century lovers utilized an 'anti-role' concept of the self to stress that the truest portion of their per­ sonal identity was concealed by social conventions . This sense of a hid­ den, but purer individual essence is the basis of the 'romantic self. "'2 I This cultural theme, mixing a uthenticity and isolation, emerged in the second half of the nineteenth century. As Ellen Rothman and Elizabeth McKinsey have documented, around 1 8 70 n ewlywed couples began to shun the traditional honeymoon visits to family and community and were increasingly isolating themselves in grandiose natural settings like Niagara Falls.22 "The ni neteenth century American middle-class concept of intimacy was an ideal of the fullest, most natural self-expression . . . . This most o ften involved an attempt by both parties to unmask, to a ban­ don all outward forms of propriety, and to shed all normative social roles except the romantic self. "23 Formerly, this bourgeois notion of roman­ tic love was tied to the domestic sphere of the home. The contemporary vision of romance, however, scrips its participants of any clearly defined social role and setting by placing them in the liminal zone of nature. It does not stress female and male identities and their respective gender

94

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

roles but blurs and fuses them in a common, ge n d e r le ss sphere of leisure in w hi ch pure attraction and emotion reign. The evocation of a lost world of nature and love is meant to redeem the self from its fall not only in to modem a rtificiality but into a kind of weight­ lessness, restor i ng to the gestures and intimacy between men and women the seriousness and consequence they seemed to have in the Victorian era,

whose social distance and reserve lent romance an exciting aura of trans­ gression. By metonymy, moreover, the nostalgic mode elevates consump­ tion as well, into something denser and more profou nd. Nostalgia reverts to the past and to the precious scarcity of goods to imbue ob j ects with a

value and a uniqueness that have disappeared but that, as the ad images imply, can be resuscitated, phoenixlike, by consuming it in the circum­ stances displayed. In these i mages, nature functions less as a s patia l than as a temporal s i gnifie r, through which the (mythical) uniqueness and den­ sity of premodern consumption are regained and projected onto the pre­ sent. Thus, the nostalgic mode telescopes past and present or, more ex­ actly, evokes the past as a means of breaching a n d transfiguring the present.

The nostalgic image of nature is used by advertisers to promote a vi­ sion of consumption that euphemistically denies the very nature of the world that makes consumption p os si b le. Through a dvertising, this ideal of nature was sanctified by th e very corporate order that actually de­ stroyed it. Where productive work demands the sy stem a t ic control or

destruction of nature and the increasing regimentation and conformity of the self, the image of nature in contemporary advertising claims that consumption is a means to regain access to lost treas ures, authentic self,

genuine re lationships, and a benevolent, majestically beautiful n atu r e. Antimodernism and the nostalgia for a lost paradise of nature and truth a re indeed leading themes of the culture of capitalism and are amplified by their obsessive association with th e theme of romance and leisure.24 The other aesthetic mode of representation transporting romance and nature into a utopian time is that of the sublime . The sublime, according to B u rke and Kant, expressed the overpowering, even terrifying face of nat u re, evoking a feeling of awe and won der that b rough t representation itself to its limit.25 The romantic movement, which dominated American landscape painting in the nineteenth century, advocated an intellectual a nd aesthetic sensibility sympathetic to the s u bli me in nature.26 Artists found in the sublime the basis for a cult of nature that could mix their nostalgic reaction against modernity (whose scientific rationality, technological progress, and industrial capitalism were destroying nature) with the new d esire to represent nature as a maelstrom of powerful emotions.

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In the nineteenth century, the sublime was found primarily in moun­ tainous landscapes, and thus it su rvives today primarily in tourist ads showing such wonders as the Alps or the Andes, or Hawaiian waterfalls. However, other landscapes, more conducive to leisure and romance, have been endowed with a quality of the sublime, namely, an associa­ tion with the ineffable and pure intensity of feeling. The beach, by far the most widely pervasive natural setting for romance, can serve as the paradigmatic example. At the heart of the notion of the sublime, Fredric Jameson has said, is the idea of the unspeakable, a natural power and a corresponding emotional response that transcend attempts to commu­ nicate themP On the beach of romantic ads, solitude and silence, the removal of the couple from the noise and distraction of other people, convey this idea. While the beach is primarily a construct of the tourist industry, in advertising it is detached from the crowded and highly com­ mercialized vacation resorts. In fact, in advertisements beaches are in­ variably deserted. The couples in such ads are absorbed in an intense gaze of nature as well as in each other, and the feelings their image evokes have a corresponding, ineffable weight and profundity. The time to which these utopian visions of romance and natu re ap­ peal does not open up on the linear future of messianic utopias; rather, it is a mixture of three temporal categories: the past of our lost authen­ ticity, the eternal present of intensity (and consumption), and the atem­ porality of the sacred. The abstract, generic spaces and symbols of na­ ture and travel settings interweave categories of the past that are transfigured through the nostalgic, the eternal present of the sublime, and the sacred atemporality of leisure. According to Jean-Fran\ois Lyo­ tard, this blend of heterogeneous times defines the postmodern, charac­ terized by one commentator as a .. perpetual present tense within which human beings have always lived at all times and in all places, pinioned forever between a disintegrating, irrecoverable, half-remembered past and an always uncertain future. "28 Unlike "classical" utopias, the ro­ mantic utopia of advertising does not offer a narrative of progress, but instead implodes different temporalities within the category of " roman­ tic intensities. "29 R O M AN C E AS I N V I S I B L E A F F LU E N C E

The postmodern is not only an aesthetic category but also a way of rep­ resenting and making sense of social relations. What then are these so­ cial relations ? What is the social meaning of such images?

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

If one compares cursorily the 1 900- 1 9 3 0 samp l e of advertising im­ ages to the sam p l e from 1 9 89- 1 99 1 , two main di fferences appear. First,

the ostentatious display of luxury that had characterized the earlier pe­ riod has considerably decreased and been replaced by the visual themes of leisure and nature. Second, whereas during the first decades of the ce ntu ry it was very easy to distinguish married co up l e s from courting ones, in the contemporary sample only discreet clues like weddi n g rings signal the couple's m a r i ta l status. In other words, the vi sual representa­

tion of marriage has become euphemized ( usua lly av oi d ing the depiction of da i l y life), and the attr i b ut es of marriage have increasingly been sub­

sumed under those of flirtation and relaxation . Even when romance is assoc i a ted with the visual display of l u x ury, it is often presented under casual circumstances of informality, sponcane­ ity, and intimacy that defuse one c us to mary function of l uxu ry, n a m ely, the a ffi r m a t i o n of social power. For e x a mp le , an advertisement for an expensive china shows a married couple, with suggestively na k ed shoul­

ders, l yi ng in bed under their b l an kets, about to eat a copious bre a k fast on their china. The form a l i ty of el ega nc e is su bsumed by i n t i m ac y and

what we presume to be the l eisu re ly pace of a breakfast in bed. Given the sed ucti v e, effective association of romance with opulence in the his­ tory of advertising, the question arises, why has the theme of l uxu ry become u n derpl a yed while the theme of nature has become so over­

whelm i n gly dominant? Why is the image of the isolated beach so promi­ nent in contemporary advertising images of romance?

I s ubmit that, unlike the theme of luxury, th e themes of nature, iso­ lation, simplicity, exoticism, and romantic intimacy are cl ass-free and gender-free.30 Since the 1 93 05, romance has moved from an association

with the glamorous image of elegance and wea l t h to an association with a classless image of nature. Already by the ninetee nth century, the im­ age of nature was becoming hegemonic because it e nc ompa sse d diverse

social groups and transcended social divisions a n d distinctions .3t Na­ ture, like romance, leisure, and isolation, blurs and transcends social boundaries because it resuscitates the buried a uthenticity of a primitive se l f and addresses what is presumably our unive rsal common denomi­

nator of humanity. Nature, and the cluster of sym bo l i c meanings a ttached to it (simplic­ ity, a uthent ici ty, and freedom), harmonizes two utopian v is i o n s , one of­

fering relationships free of s oc ia l and gender inequalities and the other an easy abundance of time and affluence. The firs t is a utopia of pastoral

si mp l ic it y, authenticity, and intimacy, which addresses the " truest" part

From Romantic Utopia to American Dream

97

of ourselves and thus transcends consumption and society itself. The sec­ ond is a utopia of leisure in which man and woman merge their identi­ ties and experience a sensuous pleasure and freedom that takes them out of the discipline and hierarchies of the workplace. The theme of nature can symbolically mediate and merge these two motifs, however, because nature signifies not only an ideal space and time beyond consumption but also the very real privileges of those with the resources of money and leisure time necessary to enjoy its landscapes. Congruent with the popu­ list, inclusive aesthetic of postmodernism, the image of leisure and the syntagm of romance and nature that underlies it promote consumption as a universal and all-inclusive idiom that embraces and blurs differences, and yet consumption is the motor of the economic and class sy stem from which these differences arise)2 This simultaneous denial and affirmation of consumption is at the heart of the utopian dimension of romance in postmodern culture, as is most apparent in the images of travel and tourism that abound in the world of advertising. Tourism is the most intensely commodified realm of leisure. On the consumers' side, it usually demands significant amounts of disposable income and time. On the producers' side, it presupposes an intensive exploitation of the landscape and its transformation into a commer­ cial zone that can serve tourists' needs and desires. Tourism demands that natural landscapes, ethnic groups, or cities be organized--geo­ graphica lly and symbolically-to fit commercial exploitation ( the " travel package " ) . The landscape is classified and parceled out i nto units ready to be integrated into the commercial network of tour op­ erators and travel agencies. The economic exploitation of nature and local cultures is achieved when they are transformed into objects for the "gaze," into an iconography saturated with meanings that can be sold by the tourist industry: the deserted beach for the couple's inti­ mate seclusion, the exotic locale for adventure and intensity, the play­ ful dip into the l uxury swimming pool for romantic relaxation . 33 In tourism and i n romance alike, the boundary between the sign, the com­ modity, and the referent becomes tenuous or disappears altogether. These images are simulacra, stereotyped copies that have no originals. Presumably, tourists who purchase these packages don't want rea l ad­ venture, with its attendant risks and discomforts (if they did, they wouldn't purchase packages ); they want to experience themselves within a safe, prefabrica ted image that the tourist industry has im­ plicitly labeled "adventure." The sign-the image-becomes the com­ modity it is intended to sel l .

All That Is Romantic Melts

into Air

Almost by definition, leisure has overtones of c1asslessness and afflu­ ence. The "right to leisure" started as one of the most important social demands made by workers during the 1 9 205.34 As a result of the strug­ gles of workers, their wages expanded considerably, and leisure time was generalized to all segments of society. Leisure has since then come to sym­ bolize a classless utopia, both in the sense that it speaks to and includes all social classes and in the sense that it promises the abolition of social divisions.35 However, since World War II and especially since the 19605, leisure has expanded to such an extent that it has come to be one of the defining characteristics of late capitalism. The spectacular expansion of domestic and international tourism, popular culture, and the mass media-all selling leisure products-displays one of the most dramatic transformations of our economy and culture: the move of the ca pitalist system from the exploitation and management of natural resources to a "service economy" of intangible products and multinational corpora­ tions. To this extent, the inscription of romance into leisure naturalizes these changes and offers the icon par excellence of the economy and cul­ ture of late capitalism. Leisure is distinctly postmodern in yet another respect. It has be­ come the distinctive attribute of the new service class (also c alled " new petty bourgeoisie," " new cultural intermediaries," or more popularly, "yuppies" ' , According to British sociologist Scott Lash,36 these fast­ growing "new middle classes " are the outcome of the growth of the service sector of the economy. They are located in communications ser­ vices (media, advertising), information technologies ( comp uter pro­ gramming ), and international finance. These new classes are the pro­ ducers and the primary audiences of postmodern cu lture, which in turn legitimates and promotes their interests. Although they have su bstan­ tial amounts of educational and economic capital, these new classes cultivate a rhetoric of opposition, subversion, and difference. This helps explain why contemporary advertising images presuppose afflu­ ence and yet betray a longing for a classless pastoral frugality and a pure expression of intense feelings. As Bourdieu argues, this group, which he calls "new cultural inter­ mediaries, " mixes contradictory exigencies: its members lack cultural capital and are socially insecure, yet aspire to cultural legitimacyY They are relatively well placed in mainstream firms and institutions yet culti­ vate self-expression, adventure, and s pontaneity incompatible with the hierarchical order and ethos of middle-class workplaces. They are inte­ grated into the work force, yet search for new and intense experiences

From Romantic Utopia to American Dream

99

and are obsessed with appearance, i dentity, and self. Leisure has become an important s p he re for expressing a nd rec onc iling these contradictory tendencies: in leisure, the new petty bourgeoisie can aspire to cultural ca p it a l th rough the co nsum pti on of tourism ( in historical sites, in exotic cultures) and express their consumer ide n tity (e.g., hotels, restaurants, n ight-c l ub s, car rentals) yet culti vate the appearance of individualism, self-identity, pa sto r ality, an d spont a neity. This contr a dictory ethos is all the more exploited by advertisers in that it h e l p s them eu p hemi z e, yet promote, consumption. The p revalen ce of images of nature and, more specifically, of des e rted beaches can be explained in terms of the ethos of this new cl as s . The de­ serted beach is a liminal space that inverts the values of work and cele­ brates the wholeso meness of a fu lly recovered individualism, yet it pre­ supposes the rental-car ag encies , s h o pping areas, cafes, and rest a ura nts that are now appendages of most beach resorts . The deserted beach is a consummate r h eto ric a l inversion of the world of se r vice e m p l o yees. The beach and the sun are visual and sensory inversions of the world of o f­ fices, which demand tight bodily control, clothing and manners gov­ erned by etiquette, del icate and controlled management of one's and oth­ ers' fee l i n g s, bodily inactivity, and seclu sion from the open air and the sun. On the other hand, on the beach c lot h ing is close to nakedness, yet concerns about ap pea ra nce and beauty are paramount, for the semi­ naked body is su pp osed to show the signs of good care, good he a lth , and good shape that are part of the "fitness " ethos of the new bo urgeoi sie . In this equation of leisure, romance plays the role of m a k i n g the public e x p ression of the self more informal at the same time that it binds the self to the private sphere and puts fe e li ngs and self-disclosu re at the cen­ ter of this pa r a dise regained. But the beach is also an ideal type of what political economist Fred Hirsh calls a " position a l go od ," the v al u e of which derives from its scarcity a nd there by depends on the number of peop le who want to con­ sume it.38 That is, the enj oyment one gets from the good depends on the mon o poly one has over it. A natural la n dsca pe falls under the condition Hirsh calls "objective scarcity " : the greate r the number of people who consume the l a n d sc a pe , the less one pa rt ic u la r individual will be able to enjoy it. If sca rci ty entails economic value, then the ability to secure a private, secluded portion of the natural land sca pe carries cultural as well as economic p ay offs : the elitist a ffirmation of individuality, accentuated by the presti ge derived fr om the possession or use of a scarce commod­ ity. Thus, capitalism has a p propr i a ted and destroyed not only the

All Th at Is Romantic Melts into Air

1 00

natural landscape but precisely the ability to enjoy a landscape uncon­ taminated by the visible hand of capit a l, the intensive exploitation char­ acteristic of tourist resorts. Advertising images of romance hence para­ doxically affirm the very economic value s that have been made scarce and thereby c o st l y by capitalism at the same time that they deny the pres­ ence of money and commodities. The most romantic landscape is inci­ dentally also the mos t expensive, at least in terms of its travel costs: it is primarily "wild," that is, far away from the industrial world, and iso­ lated, that is, uncontaminated by capital and the presence of working-class or middle-class vacationers. But why is this vision of wildness primarily carried out by couples? Part of the explanation has to do with contemporary economic stratifi­ cation. Despite the upsurge in single-headed households for the past two decades, the best way for most people to reach a relatively affluent lifestyle is to establish a dual-income family.39 It should therefore come as no surprise that advertising privileges the representation of the couple, since in late capitalist social structure marriage is a key element of social mobility and the main unit of consumption . The power of the romantic utopia resides in its Janus-like abil ity to a ffirm the values of late capitalism and at the same time to invert them into symbols of primitive simplicity and pure emotionality. The post­ m odern romantic utopia contains the classless dream of leisure and a uthenticity at the same time that it affirms new c lass divisions and class identities. According to Ernst Bloch, false consciousness alone can not explain the pervasiveness and persistence of certa in cultural themes. There remains a " surplus, which is the " hope " contained in utopias.4o Utopia erases contradictions and presents the spectacle of fulfilled humanity, not by the transcendence but by the denial of cur­ rent social relationships. The romantic utopia draws on symbols of the good life, at one and the same time embodying and denying the values of capitalism. This double-sided aspect of the romantic utopia can be understood in terms of the sociological properties of postmod­ ern culture at large. Scott Lash proposes a useful dichotomy between two forms of post­ modernism, one mainstream and the other oppositiona1.41 The first does not pose any challenge to bourgeois identity and in fact recenters the subject on consumption, fixed identity, and cultural hierarchies. The sec­ ond tries to break down bounda r ies and to question traditional anchor points of representation and identity. The romantic utopia incorporates and fuses the rhetoric of the oppositional and all-inclusive form of postn

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101

modernism, while legiti m ating the bo u rgeo i s consumer ethos and the identity of the new middle cl a sses . C O D E S A R E G E T T I N G T I RED To claim that these postm o der n themes are utopian may sound incon­ gruous; post modern is m is notoriously anti-utopian.42 Utop ia pre­ supposes the projection of self and community in a rational narrative of l iberation and progre s s, w hereas t he uto p i a of adv ert ising plays on semi­ conscious, i nd ivid ua l ist daytime reveries of love a nd power and bears the fragmenta ry character of n ight dreams. The romantic ut op ia abol­ ishes the classical dista nce between comm odities and aesthetics, signs and reali ty, sentiments and s pecta cle. As Jean Baudrillard has a rgued , signs, and only signs, are now at the ce nter stage of ca p italist p roduc tion and consumption.43 Furt hermore , the romantic ut op ia has bid farewell to the coherent, goal-oriented, and rati o n a l su bj ec tivi ty that once dominated industrial capitalism as well as the collective utopias that op p o sed it. Evading the traditional unity of narrative discourse, the romantic utopia offers a coll a ge of disjointed im ages whose sole unity is the tri u mph a nt expression of desires. The question then arises whether a dvertisi n g images of l ove articulate a utopia in which identity can be coherently arti c u l ated, or do they point to the fragment a ti on and im­ p losi on of postmodern identity. What does the relentless vi su al obses­ sion of our culture with love, leisure, and nature do to the constitution o f a romantic utopian imagination? The remainder of this c ha pte r and the fo llowi ng two chapters add r ess these questions empirically. In his sweeping analysis of early twentieth-century advertising, Roland Marchand suggests that adv e r tis i ng pl a ys an important role in s ha p ing the content of the imagination. "To the extent that individual daydrea m s are shaped by an available vo c a b u lary of familiar i mages, the cliches of popular art of an era, p a rticu la r ly if they are dr am atic al l y and rep e atedly paraded before the public eye, m a y induce individuals to re ­ capitulate in their ow n fantasies s ome aspects of the daydre a m of the so­ ciety. By the 1 9 2.0S in the United States, advertising had become a pro­ lific p r od ucer of v isu a l images with n or ma tive overtones, a contributor to the society'S share d da y dreams. " 44 In moving from an analysi s of images to an an a ly s is of re spon den ts ' vis u al im agina t i o n s , I do not intend to ex p lore how their interpretations fit or deviate from the meanings advertisers i n tended their ads to con­ vey. Individuals do not merely interpret cultural texts but o rgani z e their ­

1 02

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

experience around them. As Leiss cogently put it, "it is by means of the iconic representations that marketing seeks to provide the points of co­ herence around which consumers can organize social experience into meaningful patterns. "45 The question is whether these images provide such points of coherence and reference for my respondents. Respondents were presented a series of photographs and advertising pictures of various couples. Three sets of photogra phs were used: the first set contrasts a well-known photograph by Walker Evans of a fam­ ily during the Depression ( figure 6; not reproduced) with a photograph of a richly dressed couple, who are smiling and ostensibly happy ( see fig­ ure 5 in appendix 3 ) . The second set consists of four pictures featuring couples in different settings and romantic poses ( see figures I , 2, 3 , and 4 in appendix 3 ; three of these pictures were advertisements; one was an illustration for an article published in a women's magazine) . The third set consists of three black-and-white photographs of couples, of d iffer­ en t ages, involved in various poses of physical intimacy (figures 7 , 8 , and o 9; see the note to appendix 2 for descriptions). The respondents were asked to choose the most romantic picture among several and to j ustify their choices. In trying to understand why respondents interpreted a picture as romantic, I established a number of categories on which they may have based their interpretations: geo­ graphical ( i oe., the setting: urban versus natural; street versus home etc.); proxemic ( in close embrace versus dista nt); atmospheric ( fun versus solemn, peaceful versus " noisy," etc.,I; consumerist (rich objects versus frugal); sexual ( provocative versus modest); facial (happy versus solemn or gloomy ) ; pictorial ( so ft focus versus hard focus; close-up versus long shot, etc.); and activity (cooking, eating, rowing, etc . ) . Respondents used all o f these categories to identify a n d classify ro­ mantic pictures. Some categories, h owever, seemed to be more salient than others. The most relevant categories were (in their order of impor­ tance) the geographical, the atmospheric, and the facial. That the sexual and gestural codes proved less relevant to these evaluations of pictures as romantic was, to say the least, surprising. When asked to compare figure 5 and and the Walker Evans photo, most respondents chose the picture with the rich, happy, and glamorous couple. But when asked to choose the more l oving couple, many re­ spondents switched their choices to the picture of the poor and gloomy family (see next chapter for more on this) . Similarly, when respondents were shown the third set of images, many of them chose the young couple kissing in the street (Doisneau's photograph) as the most roman-

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103

tic, a nd figure 8 (c o up l e sitting in the cafe) as the most e x press i ve of love. A majority of my re s po nden t s clea rly held two separate visual constructs for t hese two fee li ng s . Romance was more often i nfe rr ed from atmo­ spheric signs created by the youth, e le ga nce, and externa l signs of hap­ p i ness a nd relaxation. Visual signs of romance were typically associated with such feelings as sp ontaneity, ease, excitement, and ha pp i ne ss. The visual sign s of love, however, were associated with enduran ce, solidar­ ity, and stab i l i ty. The meaning of " romantic" did not a lways c oinc i de with that of love, for, on the one hand, the former was ass oci a te d with atmo sph er i c signs of wealth, youth, happi nes s , and glamour. Love on the other hand was con struc t ed as an endurin g and i n tim ate bond tran­ scending the hig hly aestheticized cultural categ ory o f t he rom a n tic . Among the four a d ve rtising pic tu res, figure 3 ( ro w- b oa t on the lake) emerged by fa r as the most romantic picture, followed by figure I ( res tau ­ rant) and figure 4 ( d in ne r at home ) . F igu re 2. (man k n eel ing in the street) was n ot chosen as romantic by any of the respondents. Significantly, this picture is the only one of the four that is not an ad vertising p ict ure . In fact, the respo ndents ' unanim ity that figure 2. is not romantic was so b la tant that it shed l igh t on the cultural sign ificance of what is romantic. In con­ trast to the other pictu res, the mea ni ng of figure 2. was often viewed as un­ c lea r. Many re spondent s were ba ffled by the coup l e 's pose, wondered whether the man dominates the woman or the other way around, why the w oman is d ressed in a leop ard -sk i n dress, and why they are in the street. What about 2.? Why ;s

it

less romantic

than 4 ?

2. is more, u h , i t does not strike m e that the two of them are in love. It looks more like going out, she is dressed very sensually and I don't really understand what she is doing there (laugh), he is knee ling, there is a police car, it is kind of a strange picture. ( Female law yer, interview 2. 3 ) That's j ust perverse. A pe rso n kneeling on th e street and the guy has the coat on the street and who knows what the woman is up to. And the police car in the back, God knows what th ey are doing. (Male Ph.D. student, in­ terv i e w 2. 4 )

Why is

2.

less romantic?

It's out, it's out in the street. There is n oth i ng romantic about that. It's noise and everything. (Female security officer, interview 3 7 )

Figu re 2. i s not romantic pri mar ily because i t does not offer rea d y - to - be­ i nter pre te d atmospheric signs of rom ance. For my re s pon d e n ts , the

1 04

All That

Is

Romantic Melts into Ai r

sensuality of the dress, the provocative pose of the man kneeling in the middle of the street, the " noise," and the police car in the background convey meanings of rawness and crudity discrepant with the gentle inti­ macy and tranquility conventionally associated with images of romance. The division between the unromantic and the romantic revolves around a broad division between "male" and "female " spheres. The ad­ j ectives used most frequently by my respondents to describe the images they chose as romantic were stereotypically feminine: "nice," " inti­ mate, " "quiet, " "peaceful," "comfortable," " spontaneous, " "serene, " " sweet," "gentle." These lexical choices confirm Francesca Cancian's claim that romantic love has become " feminized. "46 In opposition to the chiva lric ideal of courtship, which aimed at perfecting a male spirit of valor and ascetic heroism, respondents drew on a cultural ideal in which the distinction between masculine and feminine spheres is blurred and traditional male attributes are subordinated to the feminine sphere . To be romantic, men are required to (temporarily) give up their emotional control and assertive a uthority and switch to qualities of "openness," "gentleness," and "care." Women are simply required to remain what they "naturally" are. Thus, as suggested earlier, the image of romance neutralizes gender differences by drawing men and women into the fe­ male sphere of sentiments. In sharp contrast with figure 2, figure 3 was chosen as "most roman­ tic" by many respondents and was recognized as "romantic" and even "typically romantic" by all respondents. (Figures I and 4 were also fre­ quently identified as romantic but were almost never called typically ro­ mantic. ) The single most often-stated reason for choosing figure 3 as ro­ mantic was the seclusion of the lovers: Why did you choose picture , ? Well, beca u se there's a solitude. the two people s ha ring time and thoughts

tog et he r and in one secluded spot away fro m the rest of the wo rld , when I love someone I wan t these times where

I can be away . . . .

But why, for example, is 4 less romantic to you?

I mean it's fun, th ey re getting tog eth er and enj oying . . . having some '

laughs, and share an evening, but there is just somet h in g about the whole appeal of the scene that makes , more, uh. like I said th e solitude of , re­ ally str i k e s me in the hean. What about

2.

now, why is it less romantic than I ?

I don't think I a m that kind o f person in public. (Male doorman, interview

II)

From Romantic Utopia to American Dre a m

10 5

Many respondents further justified their choices in terms of the setting and invoked the fact that figure 3 is " in nature." The soft focus and pas­ tel colors of the picture induced respondents to view it as " quiet," " peaceful," and "serene." For example, in explaining why she preferred it, one respondent commented: . . . and I guess maybe because it's simpler, and I tend to like things simp le r than

4, I, a nd 2., which are very extravagant, because people are all dressed

up and in fa nc y, I is in a fancy restaurant and I think 3 goes more with my personality where I like the country, I like simple things, things like a fancy dinner don't impress me, it's very easy to take somebody to a fancy dinner, but to think of something like this, to go for a rowboat ride, to me is much more unique and much more special. So I guess that's why it's more roman· tic. ( Female university professor, interview 1 9 )

This woman drew on the cultural repe r toire of the pastoral utopia and evoked simplicity and authenticity as the core meanings of roman­ ticism. It is noteworthy that when contrasted with nature, luxury was not perceived by respondents as a pertinent or salient feature of ro­ mance. Quite the contrary; luxury items were often perceived as " fake" and deliberate manipulations of their feelings by advertisers. O n the other hand, when explicitly co n traste d to poverty, luxury did function as a sign of romance. Because romance presupposes and demands "dis­ tance from necessity," it is closer to images of luxury tha n to images of poverty. But it demands that this distance be euphemi zed by the ethe­ real goods of the postmodern market: nature, silence, solitude, leisure, and travel are the " spiritual" assets demanded by the typical practice o f romance. Furthermore, these meanings helped some of the respondents recapitu­ late their experiences and romantic dreams. Two examples illustrate this. Can you tell me a very romantic moment you have experienced recently? Let's see. I would say the first that comes to my mind, walking along the beach, we ha ppen to be in Mexico, in a foreign country, on vacation. J ust the two of us taking a walk and talking, j ust feeling close and enjoying the time we had together.

What was romantic about that m oment? Just like being a thousand miles away from home in our little, almost kind of fantasy world. Real world seemed so far away, so we were just in our paradise almost. And there was a certa in intimacy about being there a nd being in that type of setting. ( Male corporate banker, interview

2.0)

1 06

All That Is R om a ntic Melts into Air

What was the most romantic moment you have had? I ha d di nner wi th a g i rl fr iend when I was l iving in Paris. My girlfriend came over to Pa r is and we had dinner at t he top of the Eiifel Tower. I gave her a ring.

What was romantic about that moment? The setting was overlooking Paris, and the Eiffel Tower. I was about to travel around the world so I h ad another six or seven months to go, I wasn't going to be se ei ng her for a while so this was our last evening to­ ge th er, because we broke up but that's separate. I think it was, uh, con­ ceived of to be romantic a nd it was, it was concei ved of "this would be a wonderful thing to do. " (Male act o r, interview 2.9)

These two r espondent s rec a pi tu l ate d their e x perie nces using the same highly aestheticized vignettes that ad ve rt isi ng imagery has codified. That

the trip to Mexico is even referred to a s a

"

fantasy world" i nd ica tes that

the res ponde n t perceived this ex pe r ience in the mod e of " u nreality" pre­ cisely because it reenacted the codified aestheticized proper ties of the ro­

ma ntic utopia. This fanta sy world rec ap tures the vision of roma nce con­ ti nu o us ly paraded in advertising: it is secluded, located in a foreign and exotic country; the couple a re walking alon g the beach and reen acting a

feel in g of par adi se reg a i ned . The se co n d exa m ple is similarly fil le d with the visual prop s of the Pa r i si an vignette of roma nce . In fact, the respon­

dent him sel f suggested th a t he experienced the moment as ro ma nt ic be­ cause "it was con cei ved of to be romantic and it was. " These mom ents are

experienced and remembered as intense because they crystal l i ze " ro­ mance " in a few key sym bo l s and images, which in turn conden se the fa n­ tasies and scen ario s of consu m er culture. Mea n ings of romance are expe­ rienced intensely because the y are intensely recogniz ed . Paradoxically, it is pre ci se ly beca use these vignettes have so w ide ly infiltrated our i m a gi n a t i o n s that their time-honored ca p a ci ty to con­ stitute identity has become u ncertain. At the same t i m e that fi g u re 3 has the unc o n tes te d status of the " t yp i c a l " or " t r u e " image o f ro m a nce , it al s o appears, at least to some o f t h e res po nden ts , as its most fake and meaningless representation. Here an i n ter es t i ng class difference a p pea r e d : Alth o u gh it was iden ti fie d by al m o st all respondents as "the typically romantic" picture, upper-middle-class resp ond en t s more of­ ten chose figures I or 4 a s romantic and re j ecte d fi gu re 3 , p r ec i s e l y on the g ro u n d that it was too o bviou s l y romantic . On the other hand, w ork i n g -cl as s p e o pl e unr e serve dl y viewed figure 3 a s the " t r ue ro-

From Romantic Utopia to American D rea m

1 07

mantic picture," and were the most likely to subscribe, uncritically, to its utopian mea nings. The postmodern romantic utopia, which mixes a rhetoric of classlessness and the ethos of the new postindustrial bour­ geoisie, is more readily espoused by working-class respondents than by their more educated and more affluent counterparts. As I show in chap­ ter 8 this difference is explained by the fact the most educated re­ spondents cultivate an i ronic, deconstructive distance from the signs and codes of mass culture.47 For example, evaluating figure 3, one re­ spondent said: The rowboat is very Hallmark card, it could be on a Hallma rk card of two people hugging, you could put yourself in the situation but I mean I just think it's j ust an overused image of two people in a rowboat, you know, the guy rowing all the time and the girl k i n d of thing, you know it's h a rd to relate to it as something real, as a cliche. (Female artist, interview 1 3 )

Another female respondent, a lso highly endowed with cultural capital, voiced similar reservations about the picture: That's very romantic too. That's ve ry st ereoty pically for example, if you read like (inaudible), you see people out in the rowboat, that's very stereotypical, I mean I bet if you asked som e body " what do you think would be a roman­ tic th i ng to do ? " they would s a y "go out on a lake in a rowboat" and I agree with that b ut I a lso think there is something nice about just being able to be where you are, without nothing spec i a l around you and be very close to some­ body. ( Female lawyer, interview 1 2. ) ,

The difficulty in assigning " real" referents to these images, and the tendency to view them as empty signs fabricated for the sake of profit, corroborate Baudrillard's diagnosis that in the postmodern age people are aware of the "simulations" of mass media and have become ni­ hilistic because signs have become meaningless. According to post­ modern sociologists, the cacophony of signs created by media tech­ nologies offers flat, depthless meanings that convey pure "noise without referent and meaning. "48 Echoing this nihilistic v iew of mean­ ing' some of the middle- and upper-middle-class respondents in my study often suspected that media images of romance were simulations rather than representations of their experiences. Where do you think your ideas of love come from ? Multiple sources, obviously movies and books. From pe rsona l experience, from friends' experiences, and from a little bit of reading. (Male physici a n, interview 1 4 )

A l l That Is R omantic Melts i nto Air

108 Do you think that a pornographic

m o v ie or picture is romantic?

No, because in my mind romance is this kind of fa nrasy- like c onc ept , of the

boy in boat with the girl, it's a fa n ta sy of dinner with ca nd le l ight in an ex­ pensive French restaurant_

Where do you think

your ideas of love come from?

Probably more from my parents than anything else, I just think that for most people that's the first example yo u sort of incorporate, your fears about what it will be like or your hopes fo r something differenr, or something like that. And a large part I guess from media and from myths a bout love.

Which myths? Oh, the myth about happily ever a fte r a nd the myth of being swept off your feet, th e myth you know, I think the most dangerous myth for women finding a man or bei ng attached to a man somehow is, is so terri bly impor­ tan t in order co make your l i fe all rig ht or something, I t h ink those a re ve ry powe r ful for most people whether they think about it or even know it. I think those are p roba b ly the most powe rful t h i ngs, and I'm sure for me too even though ] h ave thought about it a lot. Some of my ideas are from not wanting what my pa rents what my parents had and I guess mostly just from those images that you see in the media and that you see your friends all trying to live up to, probably th e most influential things. (Female editor, interview 4 8 ; em phasi s ad d e d)

This woman, like many of her educated counterparts in my sample, ex­ pressed the feeling that her experience is derealized, a simulacrum of empty and media-fabricated images_ For example, the thirty-year-old male doctor quoted above preferred to go hiking rather than go to a restaurant because, he said, The interactions are going to be more genuine, like "do you watch your cho­ lesterol ? " I mean the k in d of topics that would come up over dinner . . . or " what a wonderful moviel Didn't you like the way Fellini directed? " and that s ort of artistic bullshit, it's not very. ( ::\'lale d octo r, interview 8 )

The choice o f words such a s " more genuine" a n d " artistic bullshit" points to the fact that this man feels as unreal precisely what he also feels are the "artistic" (in my terminology, " aestheticized " ) elements of the romantic interaction. Although my respondents' experiences were s tructured by the same codes used by advertisers to construct their images, the same respondents also perceived these codes as unreal and fabricated, extrinsic to the fa bric of their lives_ These reactions potently illustrate the post modern perception that reality and its representations

From Romantic Ut o pia to A m e rica n Dream

have been substituted for one a nother, and this postmodern sensibility is seen most clearly in the experience of those groups most concerned with the manipulation of signs, linguistic or visual, namely, the new service class. Members of this class are both the most vocal critics o f these images and the people most likely t o use the same images to re­ capitulate their romantic experiences. People who declare themselves the most aware of and immune to the false and unreal icons of medi a imagery a r e also most likely to u s e these icons as the poles o f meaning around which their own experiences are orga n i z ed and condensed ( see chapter 8 ) . However, romance retains some aspects of the process of meaning­ making and identity-making of " modernity" and to this extent qualifies for the status of utopia. My work casts doubt on the postmodern claim that me­ dia images implode the traditional anchors of identity formation and cor­ roborates Douglas Kellner's conclusion: "Against the postmodern notion of culture disintegrating into pure image without referent or content or ef­ fects becoming at its limit pure noise-I would argue that television and other forms of mass-mediated culture p la y key ro les in the structuring of contemporary identity. "49 This, I argue, is especially true for the working­ class respondents but also, to a certain, albeit more ambiguous, extent for the educated respondents as well. Here, for example, is a professional man struggling between the meaning and the meaninglessness of figure 3 : -

You look a t this picture and you say, "Isn't that what romance is a bout ? " Yet I wo u l d never e x pe r i e nc e that kind of romance, so therefore I fee l it's phony.

Even though you wouldn't experience it, ),ou were still able to say that this is a romantic picture? Yes. All the pictures a re so me w hat romantic, the serene beauty in the, the

big beautiful lake, sunset and all the like It is almost as i f there is r om an ce and that I should be experiencing it b u t I am not. And that there is this true version of that boy a nd girl [in the boat, in figure 3 1 and there is this warmth and intimacy in romance and all of that I don't experience. .

.

.

.

Would you like to? Yes, I think I'd like to. Be c a u se it looks l i ke so much fun. (Male doctor, interview 8)

Later in the interview, this man related the images to his own experiences of romance:

All That I s Romantic Melts into Air

[ [0

The picture of the boy and girl in the cafe, giggling, that I have experienced, like laughing, and that can be h appy and fun and romantic but the serene beauty, in the, uh, the uh, bea utiful l ak e , sunset and all the like. What I usu­ ally do is go out on a boar canoeing, go rowing in Centra l Park but it's, uh, we would go ca n oe i n g i n the Delaware, it's fun if you do it with somebody you really like, it could be ro m ant i c To me that picture [figure 31 i s a l ittle too, uh, for me. .

This man's response warrants special attention because it illustrates the u ncertainty whether these images connect in some way with elements constitutive of his romantic identity. He moved uncomfortably between acknowledging that these images exerted a certain power of fascination over him-that "canoeing on the Delaware could be romantic "-and emptying the images of their romantic meaning and interpreting them as hollow cliches, signifiers without any referents . Like many other edu­ cated respondents, this man viewed the stereotypical image of romance as an empty signifier. Paradoxically, he also acknowledged that it exerted a binding power over his imagination that he wished would fill the con­ tent o f his experience.

CONCLUSION The analysis o f advertising ought not to make the images o f the type ana­ lyzed here deliver more than they can. In and of themselves, these im­ ages cannot inform us of the extent to which the romantic utopia is a sheer fabrication by advertisers or a residue of already existing cultural symbols and traditions. Nor can it inform us of processes of meaning­ making in people's experiences. Undoubtedly, some of the meanings prominent in these images are reincarnations of meanings embedded in older cultural and pictorial traditions, for example, the image of nature and its pastoral associations. By the same token, other meanings, such as a soft eroticism allied with hedonism or a visual association of love with glamour, have been, if not created ex nihilo, at least codified, used, a n d relentlessly paraded by advertisers. But these images can tell us something about the way romance is rep­ resented in postmodern culture. Because the vocation of advertising is to transmute commodity into meaning and to ferry the world of objects into our inner self, it is a privileged site to understand how postmodern romance gives voice to a new language of commodities. This language both euphemizes and denies the world of objects, presenting them through visual themes of leisure, nature, exoticism, adventure, vacation,

From Romantic Utopia to American

Dream

III

travel, and the refusal o f the urban world o f production and exchange. In the romantic utopia, the material world of commodities and luxuries has vanished. Instead, it is replaced by a d iscreet and ethereal a ffluence that subtly addresses "universal " and classless desires for authenticity, freedom, and pure emotion. Love, like consumption, is destined to all and in this sense purports to o ffer a radically classless and genderless face. In this promise of an ecumenical project to overcome the divisions of social structure, the market-based romantic utopia articulates what Lash and Vrry and many others deem to be central to postmodern cul­ ture, namely, "something importantly classless. "50 Advertising's utopia of leisure telescopes different layers of historical time into highly aes­ thetic images of romance . Opposing the values of work discipline, it af­ firms the expression of the body and of sexual energy and consecrates the playful and organic fusion of pers onal bonds. But at the same time that these images offer a rhetoric free of class and gender antagonisms, under the cover of pastoral simplicity, a Crusoe-like individualism, and the cult of pure emotions, they promote a postmodern ethos of affluence and social distinctions. As I show in the next chapter, these contradic­ tory meanings articulate another important cultural idiom of the post­ modern sphere of leisure, that of limina l i ty.

C H A PT E R 4

An All-Consuming Love Florists turn feelings into flowers.

Advertisement for fiowers

The founding fath ers of sociology ass u m e d that if human re la tion s h i p s

are to r etai n their meaning, th e y must be ke pt separate from the s phe re of economic exchange. It has s ince become one of the cl iche s of socio­ l og ica l though t that the t ri u mp h of ca pita lis m has led to the co l lap s e of religion and that consequently i ndu str i al societies a re pl ag u ed by a chronic crisis of meaning. If we follow this t h i n k in g, the preceding analy­ sis ap pa re n tl y leads to d iagnos in g the modern experience of love as un­ dermined by money and commodities. Postmooern social theorists have also argued that c o h e re n t and homo ge n e ous meanings have fled the texture of e v er y d a y l i fe; but in co n tr as t with classical soci a l theorists, they view the collapse of old ove r archi n g systems as saluta ry, for it has unleashed the desires of a pleasure-seeking s u b j e ct . Postmodern theorists thus rehabilitate a l l that i n c la ss ic a l social theory was deemed to " pollute " c u ltur e and social relationships: comm o d itie s , mass c u lt u r e , the unbridled search of pleasure, fragmentation, a di s p ersed s u b j ect i v ity . This chapter pa rt i ci p a t es in this debate by asking the following ques­ tions: Has th e sphere of con sumpti o n robbed r o man c e of a me a nin g hith­ e rt o preserved by precapitalist culture? Has it undermined the c a pac ity of people to e ngage in an authentic experience of romance? Does the t rans i en t , fragmentary n ature of p o stm od e rn romantic experience ren­ der rom a nce meaningless, or does p ost mo d e rn c ulture offer other ways of making romantic me ani n g ? Instead of engagi n g in a nor m at i ve critique of the role and effect of commodities on the romantic bond ( for example, from the standpoint of a utopian project of e m a nc ipa t ion ), I tu r n to how my respon den ts con­ s t ruct, enact, and l i v e the consumption of com mo d i tie s within their r o­ mantic relationships. I an a l yze the meaning of this consumption from "within," that is, as it is subjectively e x peri enced or d reamed about by I l l.

An All-Consuming Love

IIJ

respondents. This approach eventually leads m e to dispute a blanket con­ demnation of consumption and to a rgue that commodities and partici­ pation in the leisure market provide the romantic bond with meanings and p leasures congruent with rather than inimical to the phenomenol­ ogy of the romantic bond. REEN CHANTI NG THE WORLD Courtship i s commonly referred t o a s a ritual. The metaphor may have roots in premodern courtship, which fol lowed a highly codified seque nce of actions analogous to formal rituals, but because twentieth-cent ury manners have swept away the rigidity of courtship etiquette, the metaphor of ritual would seem obsolete, no longer capturing the sym­ bolic meaning of romance. However, a cultural analysis of modern ro­ mantic practices, as reported by my respondents, reveals that the mean­ ing of romance does indeed draw from religious rituals, even more literally than is usually implied by the word "ritual. " For Durkheim, ritual is the category o f religious behavior that de­ lineates and demarcates sacred time, space, and feelings from non­ sacred, that is, profane. The marking of such boundaries must follow a formal set of rules to make it a collective and binding behavior. Par­ ticipants in a ritual , says D u rkheim, "are so far removed from their or­ dinary conditions of life, and they are s o thoroughly conscious of it, that they must set themselves o utside of and above the ordinary morals." I Sociologists since have expanded the definition of ritual, sug­ gesting that the secular realm of d aily life is also susceptible to for­ mal ized rules of conduct similar to those of religious rituals.2 Any sym­ bol ic meaning, when it is intensified, can be ritualized within ( rather than outside) daily life.3 Although romance is a secular behavior, it is experienced to its fullest when infused with ritual meaning. More specifically, an interaction becomes " romantic" when four kinds of symbolic boundaries are set: temporal, emotional, spatial, and arti­ factual. These boundaries carve a symbolic space within which ro­ mance is lived in the mode of ritual. TEM P O R A L B O U N D A R I E S

According t o Eviatar Zerubavel, sacred time has boundaries, that is, points at which it starts and ends.4 A person experiences a romantic moment as taking place during a di fferent time from " regular, " pro-

A l l That

Is Ro mant ic Melts into Ai r

fa ne time. Most readers will recognize these words of a woman film­ maker: " You h ave to set aside time, t o set aside time to make thi ngs romantic" (interview 2 ) . Such " se t t i n g aside " of ti me is a very con­ scious and purposeful a ct io n , as the fol l o w i ng answer given by a work­ i n g-cla s s woman demonstrates: How does one work on fa relationshipJ? make the time, o r find the time t o d o special th ings that are ro­ " with each other. It's much ea s ie r after a long-term rela­ tionship to just follow [sic] i nto a pattern, you do what you have to do and

You have t o

mantic moments

stay home in front of television and watch it and sometimes that's easier

tha n putting yourself out, like getting yourself dressed up a little bit, like finding a place where to go, making an arrangement for your children to be taken care for. (Working-class woman, no profession, interview 1 6)

" sp e ci a l t h i ngs , " and as is e xp l ic i t ly o p pos ed to the "ordinary" t i me of ev e ryd a y life . " It [a ro m a nt ic moment] would be either e a r ly in the morning or late a t n igh t , when no one e lse is a r o un d " ( working-class man, i n te rv i e w 3 6 ). Why do these two slices of time, before or after the regu l a r w o rk d ay, seem equally romantic? P recedi ng or following work or domestic c h o res , t h e y are thus located on the margins of th e productive and re p rod uct ive time of society.

"Romantic time" is constructed to mark out

such it

Could YOII say what was romantic about [a particular moment}? Night, I think, is more romantic than the day. And the forest and the natural environment,

that I found to be very romantic. ( Male lawyer, interview 5 )

Here, te mpo ral boundaries are a ss oc i at ed with ge ogra p h i cal ones; both mark t he seclusion of th e lovers. The night is more romantic than the day because it facilitates the lovers' symbolic and physical iso la ti on from their o r d i n a r y d a yt i me identities. Night is both a ty p ic a l marker of romant ic time and also the private time p a r excellence, a nd this s uggests that the boundaries of romantic time are often structured by the bounda­ ries dividing private and p ubl ic l i fe . Romantic time is often compared to or ca l led " celebration time . " This is often seen in women's ma ga zi ne s : " Your intimate relationship is the most pr ec io u s g i ft in your life. It deserves to be ce le brat ed ever}' day. "5 Th i s metaphor was also commonly used in the interviewees' responses.

An All-Consuming Love

lIS

For e xa m p l e , this interviewee e x p l a i ne d her c h oic e of fig u re 4 (see ap­ p end i x 3 for the figu res ) as m os t romantic as fo l l o ws :

When you say they drink champagne. they are dressed up. do you mean to say that therefore it is romantic? It is j u st that they are going to do something togeth er. ther plan some­ thing togethe r, they are going out, celebrate or something. (Female lawyer, interview

2. 3 )

Romantic time feels like h oliday time: it is perceived as di fferent an d specia l and is therefore expe r ienced in the m o d e of celebration . The life o f the couple is s u scep t i b l e to c y c lical celebration, similar to the cycles o f relig ious life . Fo r examp l e, the wedding anniversary demar­ cates the event of m a rr ia ge and celebrates i t r e g u l arl y. It commemo­ r ate s pe r io dical l y the m arri a ge ceremony and reaffirms the bond throu gh t he e x c ha nge of g i fts and a s e m i p u b lic ce l e b rati o n . S i m ila r l y, Va lentine's Day is a c oll ective cele-bration o f private fee l i ngs of love . Even unmarried coup l es , feeling the need to celebrate cyclically the ro ­ m antic b on d , oft en ritu a ll y o bserve the " first day the y met" as a sub­ stitute fo r a we d ding anniversa ry.6 Romantic moments are lived and remembered both as l i te r a l l y " festive " time and ana l og o u sl y to t h e ex­ pe r i e nce of religious time. S PAT I A L B O U N DA R I E S

Related t o this reconstruction o f time a s fes ti ve o r consecrated is the re­ arrangement of the s p ace of everyday life. The setting of new spa ti a l boundaries marks t he experience of r omance, as evidenced by pe ople 's fre quent need to move away from their reg ul a r domestic space. Even when lo v er s find themselves in the mids t of a c rowd of pe o p l e (as, for e x ample, on the street or in a rest a u r a nt ) , they symbolica lly construct their space as private and isolated from the surrounding people.7 For ex­ ample, "When I am at home, it's not s pecia l . I have ha d also roma ntic evenings at home but if I had to pic k my m ost romantic moments, it seems more spec ia l , maybe I am more rela xed then, when I go out" ( fe­

male university p ro fe s so r, interview 1 9 ) . Al th ou gh isolation and privacy a re intrinsic elements o f romance, that home is fre qu ently viewed as un ro mantic suggests that romance i s equated with the co u pl e's abil i ty t o co n struct a new p riva te space around th e m, even in a pu b l ic place. When th e coup le reaches such a sen se of

I

All Th a t Is Romantic Me lt s into Air

16

isolation from the surrounding environment, they can switch to a space properly distinct from that of daily or ordinary life. What was

romantic about this moment (in Mexico}?

Just like b e ing thousands miles away from home in our own little . . . al­ most k ind of fantasy world. Rea l world see m ed so far away, so we were just in our little pa ra d i s e almost. And there was a ce r tain intimacy about being there and being in th a t type of setting. ( Male c orp o ra te banker, in­ terview

10)

In this quote, the geographical distance not only marks but also induces

the feeling of romance. Because being in a foreign country is a culturally and linguistically isolating experience, it sharpens the construction of ro­ mance as an " island of privacy " in the pub l ic world. A RT I F A C T U A L B O U N DA R I E S

A common way o f signaling a romantic moment i s to include obj ects

different from those used for daily purposes, ritual objects being more precious or beautiful than ordinary ones. Gifts are one obvious exam­ ple, but e legant clothes and expensive meals are also associated with romance. If you wanted to have a romantic moment with someone, u!hat would you do? I'd say I had a pretty romantic eve ning one night recently. I went to a for­ mal dance, so you get dressed up re a l l y nice and you go to a pretty place, you do some da n c in g, and the n I think we came back he re for the dessert.

What was romantic about that evening? Getting dressed up is romantic, and go i n g out and doing nice things, and then also spen d ing some private time, and also doing things that a re sl ightly different from sort of the usua l . This resul ts from form a l dancing, you k now waltz and s w ing , things like that, so that makes it rom antic. You are also serv ed champagne after, which is a l i ttle bit di fferent fro m the usual, though I have it pretty often. (Male u niversity professor, interview I )

This man invoked two elements frequently found i n religious rituals: spe­ cial vestments and beverages. Aesthetic or expensive objects distinguish the romantic interaction from others by making it at once more intense and more formal. Certain objects, like champagne, roses, or candlelight, have fixed attributes of quasi-sacredness that under the appropriate cir­ cumstances can generate romantic feelings. Others acquire sacredness by vi rtue of their association with intense romantic feelings; for example, a

An All-Consuming Love

1 17

scarf or a napkin used on a romantic occasion can become impregnated with sacredness, able to transport the 100'er back to the " sacred " mo­ ment of the first meeting.

EMOTI ONAL BOUNDARIES

More than other sentiments, the romantic feeling i s expected to b e dif­ ferent, unique, for if a romantic emotion cannot be unambiguously dis­ tinguished from other feelings, the very ability to feel "love" can be j eop­ ardized. The necessity to make romantic love intrinsically different comes from the norm of monogamy, but it also stems from the fact that if boundaries between romantic feelings and other feelings are blurred, as can be the case for example in " amorous friendships," the perceived uniqueness of romantic feelings is put into question . 8 When asked if there is a difference between friendship and love, everyone says with no hesi­ tation that the two are di fferent and have to be different, even if they claim at the same time that friendship is a subcomponent of love.9 In contrast to love, the sentiment o f friendship is not jeopardized by hav­ ing more than one person as its object. Thus, romantic feelings are com­ monly described as "special," since they are directly related to a person made separate from the rest of the world . One of my respondents characterized being in love as "a sense that the other person is so wonderful that you don't u nderstand how it can exist, that you look at the person and the rest of the world disappears " (male art gallery owner, interview 43 ) . The same m a n descri bed his en­ counter with a woman whom he fell in love with: I met someone and I was s o attracted by he r that I was frozen, I went out with her, I socialized w i th her, and it was obvious that we were incredibly at­ tracted to each other. There was electricity. It was a t reme nd ou s satisfaction that I had these very strong feelings I haven't felt before. There is a sense of connection that happens, for a time, an i n te rmi n gl i ng of the soul, that you become the same person. There seems to be for me, an absence of sexual ity, that you beco me sort of a spirit, more than a male or female, you become a pure essence.

Although this man gave no religious affiliation, his terminology is obvi­ ously religious, and his statement evokes motifs familiar to the phenome­ nology of religion: a strong sense of bonding and deep connection with the God-lover, the replacement of a sense of personal identity by a feeling of merged identities.lo There is a simi larity between the awe and the intensity felt in the religious experience and the romantic sentiment. Both overwhelm

1 18

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

the religious person or the lover, and in both the object of worship or love is perceived as unique and overpowering. The feelings evoked in romantic love are reminiscent of what Rudolf Otto described as the "numinous," which is characterized by such terms as awe, ravishment, and majesty, and by the feeling that the subject is overwhelmed by God (or the loverl. 1 I Although they did not use the traditional religious rhetoric of awe and fascination, other respondents also indicated that in love emotional states are intensely altered. "A romantic moment for me is a time of cri­ sis, in which the adrenaline and the nerves are at a certain pitch " ( fe­ male editor, interview 3 ) . Or, " Romance makes a relationship more ex­ citing, more invigorating" (female police officer, interview 2 I ) . Words such as "crisis," "emotional pitch, " "invigoration," and " excitement" clearly suggest that one's emotional energy is heightened and intensified. The heightening of emotions, as Durkheim noted, is central to the ex­ perience of the sacred . In fact, his descriptions of the feeling of the sa­ cred could easily be appl ied to the feeling of romantic love: " Vital ener­ gies are over-excited, passions more active, sensations stronger. . . A man does not recognize himself. " l l The romantic feeling is reminiscent of the exhilaration often felt by the religious person during moments of religious celebration a nd communion . In the terminology of phenomenological sociology, a romantic mo­ ment stands outside the taken-for-grantedness of the everyday world. This idea was explicitl y stated by the respondents who held that roma nce is and should be different from daily life, for example, in their frequent use of the word "spec ia l " to signal the unique character of the relation­ ship. When explaining why romance was so important to his view of mar­ riage, a res pondent invoked this idea: "I would like to have that ex­ traspecia l, something out of the ordinary" ( male lawyer, interview 5 ) . The feeling o f " that extraspecial" is s o important that when it i s not felt, people call into question their romantic a ttachments. Romance is de­ scribed as that which p revents one from taking the other " for granted, " even when one shares ones' daily life with that significant other. It is "that l ittle extra" one adds to a relationship, a small but crucial difference com­ monly conveyed in such metaphors as a " spice," a " flavor, " a "zest." And this difference is more likely to appear when the moment stands out­ side the rea lm of day-to-day l ife . Examples of this difference are numerous in my interviews: .

Do you think tha t it is important to be romantic tween two people?

to

keep love going be­

An All-Consuming Love Yeah (pause) because it reminds you not to take that person for gra nted I guess, break out of e veryda y routines and ( pause) see the other person at their best, not when the y re in their bad moods, in the middle of every day problems [laughs) . ( Female editor, interview 4 8 ) Romance can last i f you keep i t alive . ,

'

.

.

How do you keep it alive? By making sure to plan out sort of romantic even i ngs as opposed to just go­ ing out in the usual way, making sure you get dressed up even though sort of not courting anymore, make sure you do things out of the ordinary once in a while. ( Male university professor, interview I )

To have a romantic moment, do you usually prefer to stay home or go out? Go out. Why? Because it is unfamiliar. (Female avant-garde fi lmmaker, interview

2)

I don't think of [roma nce) a s something that natu r a l l y goes along with cook i ng breakfast or washing c l othes and stuff. (Female collagist, inter­

view 4 5 ) These examples illustrate the same points : romance i s opposed to daili­ ness, routine, and taken-for-grantedness. Romance represents an excur­ sion into another realm of experience in which settings, feelings, and in­ teractions are heightened and out of the ordinary. One interviewee even construed the contrast between romantic and unromantic as an opposition between what we might call the " too real" and the "surrea l . "

Have you already been in a situation that you thought was totally unromantic? Yes.

What was it like? Things like losing your lugga ge at an airport, I guess things where reality intru des itself, getting stuck on the su bway .

These things happened to you ? If you have had a long wonderful weekend trip somewhere, or you have gone some place romantic, Hawaii or something, and you come back and your luggage was lost, I find that very unromantic.

Can you say what you find unromantic? The fact that the spel l that you have cast in your trip to Hawaii is now shattered by the fact that you have to deal with officials and paperwo rk

1 2.0

AU Th at Is Romantic Melts into Air

and trouble. The relaxation th a t I s poke of before as being important in ro­ mantic situations is gone, anything stressful, something that has to be de a lt with, your car breaks down. What about the subway?

You mentioned earlier that was

unromantic.

It d ep e nds if you need to be some place, if you are to the airport or being on the subway dressed in your party c l othes or not d ressed in your party clothes and holding h an ds with someone, and suddenly a bagman comes along and wants a dol l a r, again, it is an i ntrusion into your romantic haze or glow or haze or whatever. ( Male actor, interview 29)

This respondent captured the essence of the opposition between the romantic and unromantic . Romantic i s exotic ( Hawaii l, fun (the trip, the party ) , affluent (a plane t icket, dressy clothes), magic (the

"

spell ), "

and rela xed. The romantic stands above and outside the stream of everyday life conceived of as effortful, practical, routine, and unplay­ fu!. The unromantic, by c ontrast, is practical and requires that one deal with the daily problems of everyday life ( lost l ugg a ge ) and insti­ tutions ( airport clerks I. M oreov e r, the image of the bagman as a sym­ bol of the unromantic suggests that the figure o f poverty, with its sug­ gestions of need iness, distress, and social problems, is a ntithetical to the glamour with which roma nce is usually associated . Furthermore, the experience of romance exhib its attri butes of reli­ gious rituals: by isolating the objects of their emotions from all others, dressing in a s pecific way, eating special foods, rearranging the space, or moving to anot her space and setting a special time of celebration, people are able to experience a time that has the subjective " texture" of holiday celebrations, i n a space physically or symbolically removed from that of everyday life. They reach a domain where their feel i ngs are heightened, their vital energies are regenerated, the bond to their i m ­ mediate partner is rea ffi rmed. Romance is lived on the symbolic mode of ritu a l , but it also displays the properties ofthe staged dramas of every­ day life. The use of artifacts (clothes, music, light, and food), the use of self-contained u n its of space and time, the exchange of ritual words of love make roma nce a "staged reality, " an act within which pu blic mean­ ings are exchanged and dramatized to intensify the bond.

A CONSUMING ROMANCE During the interviews respondents were asked to compare figures 5 and

6 (the Walkers Evans photograph of the Depression-era fa mily; not re-

An A ll-Consuming Love

1 2. 1

produced) and choose the " picture that most expresses romance" and the one that " most expresses love. " For some respondents, the two choices coincided; in this case, the picture of the affl uent couple was seen to signify both romance and love . For other respondents, the two mean­ ings did not converge in one picture: they chose the picture with the af­ fluent couple as the most romantic but viewed the picture of poverty as signifying love. Some of these respondents contrasted romance with love, perceiving the latter as a depth of feelings beyond the trappings of con­ spicuous consumption. For them, the cultural category of romance was associated with an a ffluent l i festyle, while " love " was more readily as­ sociated with a family unity transcending the pleasures of wealth. The first group explicitly claimed that love cannot survive in conditions of dire poverty, and for this reason they chose the picture of the smiling and affluent couple as embodying both love and romance. Thus even though respondents disagreed as to whether love belongs to the category of af­ fluence (some choosing figure 5 and others figure 6 ) , none of them ever chose the picture of poverty as representing the cultural category of ro­

mance. Romance was always associated with affluence, while love some­ times associated with it and sometimes viewed as extraneous to it. The fact that some respondents merged romance and love within a sin­ gle cultural matrix (" romantic love " ) while others viewed the two as sep­ arate underscores some of the concluding remarks· of chapter 2.: the cul­ tural categories of romance and love are somewhat intermixed. Although respondents could differentiate between romance and long-lasting love, when they were faced with actual representations, the distinction was not always intelligible to them. The emotion of love was intertwined with ro­ mance, defined in terms of the props and settings that induce a " special atmosphere. " The most significant implication of this amalgam of mean­ ings is that the boundary between romance as an ambience and intimacy as mutual knowledge and trust is fuzzy, even for those who insist that it should remain distinct. Asked to report how they " usually spend " or " would like to spend " a romantic moment, fifty respondents gave a wide range of answers: hav­ ing dinner in a restaurant, having dinner at home, d rinking champagne by the fireplace, walking in Central Park, canoeing, going to Mexico, walking along the beach, making love, talking, and so forth . (The vari­ ety of these answers is outlined in table I . ) Three main categories of activities are apparent: gastronomic (e.g., preparing or purchasing food at home or in a restaurant ); cultural (e.g., going to the movies, the opera, or a sports event) , and touristic

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

1 22

TABLE 1 .

Activities Gastronomic

Cultural

RESPON DENTS

'

Direct consumption Resta urant

Drink Movies Theater Dancing; formaV discotheque Opera Museum

R O M A NT I C A CT I V I T I E S

Indirect consumption

No consumption

Dinner a t home

Reading a book Talking (sharing or newspaper secrets; talking Crossword puzzle a bout art and Watching TV politics ) Listening to music Painting together Looking at photographs

Touristic

Cruise Skiing Travel Abroad Weekend at seashore Waterski ing Canoeing

Fishing

Gardening Picnicking

Walking (river or woods; city streets or park)

(e.g., going to a vacation spot or a foreign country) . The last category includes exploration of the natural landscape, whether in the city in which the respondent lived (e.g., walk in Central Park, walk near the river) or i n a foreign country. Tourism in ethnic or cu ltural centers and travels into nature are lumped togethe r because both imply geographi­ cal or symbolic removal from the daily urban landscape. "Making love" is the only romantic activity not included in the table because it stands as a category on its own: it is neither cultural, commercial, nor touristic. Romantic encounters can be further divided into three categories ac­ cording to their relation to consumption: The first is direct, w here the romantic moment is predicated on the purchase of a commodity, either transient or durable (e.g. , eating at a restaurant, buying a cruise to the Caribbean, or giving a diamond ring). An example of a d irect con­ sumerist gastronomic activity is eating at a French restaurant, while a more indirect consumption of food is having drinks or dinner at home. Directly consumerist cultural activities are going to a movie, a concert, a play, theater, a baseball game, or dancing.

A typica l " d i rect con-

An All-Consuming Love

sumption-touristic-natural " a c ti v ity is a weekend trip to New York or to Cape May at the seashore or, even more d ramatic, a worldwide cruise. Here are some actua l examples of romantic mo m e nt s wi t h d i­ rect consu m ption : What did you use to do together? It was the tim e where discotheques j ust started; there was this place, Stu­ dio 5 4 . So we used to come to New York City and go dancing a nd some­ ti mes too, we did that a lot. We went and visited places. (Female artist, in­ terview 1 3 )

Did you use to do things together? All kinds of things, travel together, be with each other at all kinds of diffe r ent situations, see things in l'e w York. ( Fe m a l e lawyer, interview 7 )

­

The second type of co n sump ti o n is indirect, where the romantic mo­ ment depends on consumption but is n o t the direct outcome of the act

of purchasing a good. For examp l e, w atc h ing television or listening to records presupposes the pu rc ha se of the television set or a stereo system , bu t t h e p u rc ha se of these products does not ci rcu m scri be t h e ro ma ntic mome nt itse l f. Finally, the third type o f r o m a n ti c activity a lon g this dimension takes pla ce without mediation of co n s u m ption. For exam ple, tal k ing and m ak ing love do not in and of themselves imply or presuppose con­ sumption, although in practice they often do (e.g., having a goo d con­ versation in a restaur a n t setting or m a k i n g love at a hotel on vacation ) . A non c o n sumerist touristic activity consists i n walking w i th in a n ur­ ban or natural la n ds cape (park, st reet , near a rive r). But d efin ing this category solely by the absence of purchasing is prob l e matic because many activities that do not demand money are modeled on consumerist ones ( e.g., going to a m u seu m with free admission or to a lecture on art) and because these activities often presuppose substantial cultural capi t al . Hence, I do n ot include in this category any activ ity pre d ic a te d on cultural pro d uc ts funded by outside a ge nc ies. A nonconsumerist ro­ ma nt i c moment e x cludes the i n te rv en t i o n or me d iati o n of cultural prod uc ts and artifacts in t he ro m a nt ic i n terch a n ge , whether the lovers or someon e else paid for them, and whether they are p u rchase d dur­ ing or before the romantic moment. By and large this means that t h ree categori e s o f ro m a n t i c activi t ies qu a lify as nonconsumerist: walks (in

1 24

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

nature or in the city ) , domestic interactions (e.g. , talking), and making l ove at home. In my sample, the fol lowing examples are closest to non­ consumption : Ca n you

give m e a n example o f an actlfal Tomantic moment you have had

with s o mebo dy?

What I would really consider romantic isn't like I say not s o much a dinner out in front of all kinds of people, and dancing, but more an intimate type moment, just laying around the house real comfortable, not, jusl wearing comfortable c l oth e s , watching TV, sn uggling up together under the blanket, watching TV. ( Male boxer, interview 1 5 )

A woman, reca lli n g a recent romantic afternoon with her husband, ended her recounting by saying, "and we watched a video and we just stayed home t ogeth er

"

(female lawyer, i nt e r v ie w 23 ) . These two ac­

c ou nt s insist on the domestic intimacy of the se moments . In both of them "j ust" staying home together or l y i ng around the house was ro­ mantic because these activities were informal, comfortable, and there­ fore intimate. But it is instructive to notice that e v e n in such moments, respondents used modern technologies (video, television) as a focal p oi nt of th e i r interaction. Even domestic romantic moments that were removed from the public sphere of con s um p ti o n were somewhat orga­ nized around an external activity (e.g., cooking or watching a movie) or object ( m a k i ng l ove " being the most not i ceab le exception to this "

rule } . 1 3 In fact, as I show more amply in c ha pte r 8, the only respon­ dents who susta ined romantic interact ions without the mediation of a

t e c h n o l ogy or a commodity ( t hrou g h talk mo s tl y ) were the ones with the hi gh e st cultural competence. And even then, consumption some­ times plays an invisible, though powerful, role: Can

you remember a romantic moment you have had with somebody?

Like I said . . . I met this man on a train and we talked for two nights and two days without getting any sleep. (Female editor, interview 3 )

Al th o u gh the act o f talking seems here to be thoroughly d ivorced from consumption, the fact remains that the romantic c h a rac ter of this moment was related to the couple's presence o n a train, consum­

ing a trip. A few conclusions can be drawn fr o m this short review of the vari­ ety of romantic activities. Consumerist p ract ic es coexist with noncon­ s umerist or mo d e ra t ely consumerist ones and do not comp letely over-

An All-Consuming Love r i de them. A lt hou g h people ofte n mention that " staying home, " "talk­

ing, " and "mak ing love" are romantic, it remains that the range of con­ sumerist activities i s much wider a nd varied than t h at of the n o nc o n ­

sumerist ones. F i na l ly, tec h n o l og i es and/or commodities a r e fre qu ent ly present in romantic moments because through the i r mediation part­ ners communicate with each ot her. We c a n now take this a s te p fur­ ther a n d show that con su me ri s t romantic moments are culturally more prevalent than no ncon s um e r ist ones. Although c o ex i s t i ng, consumerist and nonconsumerist roma n t i c practices do not lie on a continuum, nor are the y simply opposed to each other; rather, c on s u m er i st romantic moments serve as the s tan da rd against which nonconsumerist mo­ ments are constructed. This acc ou n ts for the primacy and p reeminence of the former. The following a n a l ysi s of gastronomic and touristic -nat­ ural romantic activities will help cl arify this.14

D I N I N G I N , D I N I l' G O U T

Of all romantic activities taking p lac e within the framework of daily life, the s h ar i ng of food is th e most frequently cited in my i nterviews. Un­ d o u bte d l y, one reason for this is that in most so ciet i es , part ne r s h i p and social bonds ar e u su ally marked by the s har ing of food. But this obser­ vation leaves one of my findings u n e x pl ain ed : dinners at restaurants were viewed as more "typically" romantic than dinners at home. Even if din­ ners at home and d i n ne rs in the res ta u ran ts had been ci te d equally as ro ­ mantic, the choice of the rest au ra n t differs from that of home in that it c o r resp o n ds to the " p u re st " ideal type of romance. Resea rch by Bache n a n d Illouz clarifies this d iffe re nce . I ! The research was based on a sample of 1 80 American children, rang­ ing in age from eight to sixteen, who were interviewed in a major city on the East Coast. A m on g other questions, they were asked to describe a " romantic dinner. " Almost all the children referred to a restaurant din­ ner and, more s pec i fic al ly, to d i nn er in an elegant restaurant, as the fol­ lowing example from the stu dy il l ustra tes : Th ey went to a French restaurant or something and had French fo od , ] guess, but ] don't know any F rench food . What

kind of lights?

It is a really fancy restaurant with real fa ncy chairs, a n d it i s p o pu l ar and I guess with chandeliers. (Girl, wh ite , ten years old )

All That Is Roma n t ic Melts into Air

1 2.6

They are sining there and eat i ng this dinner and­

What would they have had for dinner? Well, like maybe

a

Fre nc h dinner or something rea lly fancy.

Hou' would you imagine the restaurant looked? Well, really fancy, and nice tablecloths a n d tables. (Girl, white, n i ne years old) Overall, these interviews indicated that, although these eight- to six­ teen-year-olds had never experienced romance in such seuings, they were able to summon the mental picture of a restaurant in highly pre­ cise and concrete detail. The authors argue that, in terms of romance, the visual representation of the restaurant dinner precedes and super­ sedes, cognitively, the representation of the dinner at borne. That is, the association of romance with consumption is acquired earlier and is mentally more salient than the representation

romantic

moments.

of non consumerist

This claim can also be applied to adults, as evidenced by my re­ spondents . One seventeen-year-old interviewee acknow ledged that she had no romantic experience, but when asked [0 descri be a romantic moment, she answered, "I would probably go to a resta urant, h ave wine, just the cornman thing to d o . " This young, inexperienced ado­ lescent immediately conj ured up the image of a restaurant and com­ mented on it as a standard romantic activity. So too, my adult re­ spondents, who had firsthand experience of rom ance, frequently referred to the resta urant as " standard" or "cliche" or " routine . " A few examples illustrate this:

Do you

consider you rs elf a romantic

person?

Yeah, I am probably not the most romantic person in the sen se of doing typically romantic th i ngs or-

What is doing typically romantic things? Buying a woman flowers or tak ing her, you know, getti ng dressed up to go ou t to a very formal restaurant or al l sorts of cliched things. It's just not my sty le. ( Male executive, interview 2.0)

What would you do ifyou wanted to have a ro mantic moment w ith someone? Umm, I don't think there has to be a n y type of rom anti c setting, candlelight or anything li ke that for it to be romance. I t can j ust be a certain way to look at someone or certain vibes that you feel. I don't think the re has to be any kind of sc e na ri o to se t up an}' rype of feeling or romantic encounter. (Female l eg a l secretary, interview 1 8 )

An All-Consuming Love Ifyou wanted to haL'e a romantic m oment with someone, what would you do? Ummrn (pause), I guess I like very private places, ummmm, very private

cozy places rather than, you know, really glitzy places, a big party or a re­ ally fancy restaurant or something. It does not appeal to me as much as the cabin in the woods, something like that. (Female editor, interview 3 )

In a more s ubtle way, a yo u ng man answered the same qu est i o n as fol­ lows: " S omewhere alone, d inner, I ' m likely t o say d inner and a show and all that. " A little la t er in the in te rv iew, asked to provide an ex a m ple o f a romantic moment h e had had, the same m a n responded, "What I wou l d really co nsider romantic isn't, l ike I say, not so much a dinner out in front of all kinds of people, and da ncin g, but more an inti m ate type of mo­ ment, j ust laying around the house real comfortable, not just . . . . (male boxer, interview 1 5 ). These quotes share the image of the restaurant, characterized by candle­ ligh t, luxurious and e lega n t appointments, and so forth.16 Even if respon ­ dents preferred "informal " and "nonfancy" restau rants, they found the "' standard" image of a romantic dinner in a luxurious an d expensive restau­ rant ( " forma l , " "glitzy"), ra ther than at home. Foremost in re s pon de nts ' minds, the restaurant dinner is the rom antic cliche; dinn er at home (the pri­ vate, cozy place) is seen as a deviation from this stand ard . (The expression "all that" of the last re s po ndent im p l ie s that he was drawing on a pool of knowledge that he assumed was known to the interviewer. ) The choice of the dinner at home was a choice against the dinner in the restaurant. A l th ou g h dinner at home is often viewed as romantic, why is the restaurant dinner the standard defi nition of a ro m a nt ic dinner, both in the imaginations of or dina r y pe o ple and in the imagery of the media? This question suggests more ge n er a l ones. Why a re these images per­ v asi ve and not others ? From where do they get their symbolic power, their abil ity to impose themselves on one's consci ousness and to func­ tion as co ll ecti ve representation s ? Even if we establish that the market is the main p u r vey o r of th ese images of restaurants, this fact in itself does not ex pl ai n why pe opl e prefer re st au ran t dinners on d ate s and why they c o nc e ive of r estaura nts as more stereotypically r om a nt ic than din­ ners at home or picnics. Unless we assume that people's representations and e x p er i e n ce s are pr od uc ed me ch an ic a l l y by symbols and goods pro­ vided by the market, we c a nno t deduce subjective e x pe r i e n ces from the market. If dining at a restaurant stands as a standa rd romantic activity (a lbeit a scorned one, at lea st by s o me of my respondents ) , it is b ec a us e this act i v i t y accomplishes " th i ng s" that are useful and m ea ning f ul to people . The problem, then, is to identify what these " things" are. n

A l l That I s Romantic Melts into Air

12. 8

Ta king up a previous strand of my argument, I c laim that romantic ac­ tivities involving consumption carry more powerful and resonant sym­

bols than those that do not i nvolve consu mption beca use the former fa­ cilitate the ritualization of romance.

R O M A N T I C C O N S U M P T I ON AS RITUAL

Restaurants are romantic because they enable people t o step out o f their daily lives into a setting saturated with ritua l meaning. The design of the restau rant rei nforces and transcends the temporal, spatial, artifac­ tual, and emotional boundaries di scu ssed earlier. Tim e in a restau rant

is self-contained: entering and leaving set the tempor al and spatial boundaries, and furthermore, the self-contained time of the meal is not susceptible to the schedules and constraints of the outside, " profane" w orl d For example, one respondent mentioned that a restaurant din­ ner is romantic because it takes place at a much slower pace than din­ ner at home. If, in the course of everyday life, peo p l e are time-conscious and end the i r meals quickl y, or at least under the p re s s u r e of outside constraints, then the " slowness" of the restaurant meal is perceived as romantic by contrast, because its slowness implies that the relationship i s the center and the goal of the interaction. The restaurant is usually an alternative space to the home or work­ place. For teenagers living with their parents or for people with chil­ dren, the restaurant provides temporary isolation from the constraints of the family. Within the restaurant, the tables are arranged so as to .

isolate each group of diners. The typical romantic restaurant is arranged with "niches" and isolated dark c orne rs, in contrast, for example, to the unromantic Irish bar in which many pe op le crowd together. The sense of a spatial boundary was also evoked by respon­ dents, who referred to the fe el ing of " being sepa rate amidst a crowd " :

" I guess m y idea o f romance i s an idea of isolation, i n a nice setting, in a n ice restaurant, being away from everyone else, or in a nice bar, away from everyone else, maybe being able to watch everybody else but being a bl e to be very much in our own world " ( female avant-garde filmmaker, i nterv iew 2). The restaurant displays an array of artifactual b ou nd a r ie s that sets it

apart from the stream of everyday life. In restaurants, the food is often " different," more "special" or "exotic " than daily foods. Ifyou wanted to have a romantic moment with someone, what would you do?

An Al l Con s umi ng Love -

I think maybe I would go out to dinner ( p a use ) . I think it is nice because you are sharing something son of physical or sensual and food is, I like food almost as much as romance or sex, or whatever.

You said before that ),ou would go to

dinner.

Yeah.

What kind of restaurant would it be? Nothing glitzy or shiny or fancy. Something sort of quiet and peaceful, you know. Someplace like I went last n ight Chez Mamoona, the servers a re friendly and helpful and the food is good and interesting. That means unusual. ,

Do you like to go with ),our dates to resta u ra n ts that serve unusual foods? Yeah, I like unusual foods. (Male movie distributor, interview 3 4 )

A s the interview went on, this m a n elaborated o n the role o f food on dates and emphasized that he liked to explore new and exotic dishes. Another interviewee responded in a similar manner: On dates, what do

)'ou like to do ?

Well, if the woman is into it, I like baseball games or that son of th ing, not all women enjoy doing that. But I a lso enjoy just going our to dinner.

Where do

you

go?

My preference is like ethnic restaurants, Mexican or different types, Indian, Thai, Eth iopian, whatever. (Male banking executive, in te rvie w 20)

These two men stressed the unusual or exotic character of the food served in restaurants, so different from "daily" foods. Other interviewees men­ tioned different artifactual characteristics as important for the romantic atmosphere: music, candlelight and other forms of soft l ighting, white tablecloths. The emotional invigoration of the romantic bond that usually accom­ panies the consumption of food in a restaurant can be traced to the for­ mal, ritualized nature of interactions there and the conventionalized sig­ nificance of the various articles involved. The clothing, the usually elegant tablecloth and silverware, the service of a waiter, the presentation of the meal, and the meal itself all make the restaurant a more formal experience than dinner at home. As Finkelstein has observed, "dining out is a highly mannered event. "17 People usually dress up to go to restaurants and in­ teract in a more constrained way than usual, and the presentation and reading of the menu delay the immediate satisfaction of hunger. More

1 30

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

importantly, the presentation of a written list of food items-a list that often uses unusual or poetic names-brings, at least temporarily, the sig­ nifiers of the food to the fore of the diner's consciousness, if not to the fore of couple's conversation. The menu is a formal cultural device that defuses the taken-for-grantedness of daily consumption of foods and ritualizes the act of eating, turning it into a symbolic event. In a restaurant, food is not only food. It is part of an ordered set of symbols and signifiers that " mark" the restaurant dinner as "romantic, " codifying its meaning and making it more cognitively salient than dinner at home. In structuring the interac­ tion between the participants in this way, the restaurant meal intensifies their interaction. (It is noteworthy that when respondents described a ro­ mantic dinner, "wine" was often mentioned. In virtue of its association with religious sacraments and celebrations, wine has a more loaded mean­ ing than, say, beer or liquor. ) At the same time that the restaurant heightens the private bond be­ tween the couple, it takes that bond to the public sphere. 1 8 In that re­ spect, the resta urant dinner carries contradictory sociological proper­ ties: it affirms the " regress ive " intimacy of the couple and at the same time makes the meal a p ublic experience. That is, the couple retreat to their " island of privacy " through highly codified and standardized meanings . 1 9 Compared t o the restaurant script, dinner a t home appears o n the in­ formal end of a continuum ranging from formality [0 informality. Domestic nonconsumerist activities in general (staying home, cooking together, gar­ dening together, talking after dinner, etc.) stress comfort, informality, and intimacy, while the restaurant dinner, a more formal and public experience, tends to mobilize higher levels of energy and intensity.

If you wanted to have a romatltic evening with someone, what kind of would you do with that person?

things

Well, I am thinking of different things I have done with Bo b, because that's the most recent romance that I have had. I was thinking of one night when we made dinner here, he was supposed to make me dinner but, you know, I was mak ing pan of it, he always says that I can't cook, but he is wrong. We were j ust uh, he was just doing something for me that a lot of men don't do or ca n t do . In this case, I can't, well, he says I can't, we were do­ ing someth ing together doing something very informal, and we both felt very comfortable where we were. And then we sat and we ate it, and that does not sound very romantic but it was. And there was another time when we went out dancing, and that was very romantic roo. (Female lawyer., interview 1 2.) ,

'

,

An All-Consuming Love This respondent was aware, even self-conscious, of the simplicity and in­ formality of these moments, indicated by her apologetic "just" and " it does not sound romantic but it was. " Dinners at home and d inners in the restaurant, however, are not al­ ways diametrically opposed. The dinner at home can imitate the restau­ rant dinner, as illustrated by the following:

If you wanted to have a romantic moment with someone, like to do?

what

would you

It wou l d be at home. If I h ad my ultimate p l ac e A ve ry nice long dinner. Discussing things at c a n dl e lig ht . I am very attracted by candlelight and very beautiful music, uh, talking about issues that interest us, uh, starting some­ what formally but then breaki ng down ( inaudible). .

What do you mean, "formally " ? A kind o f a lot o f ritual. Very nice dinner, nicely d r es se d nice music, what­ ever. Very comfortable but yet, not v ulg ar very tasteful. ,

,

What kind of food? Umm, some th i ng either really n ice , Italian or French, rea ll y

nice wine.

How would you be dressed? If I was in my h ome I wo uld n t be dressed in suit and tie, although I would dress very nicely, very nice shin, very nice sweater. She would be nicely dressed but not formally. If w e went out, I wou ld wear a tie and suit. (Male o rche stra conductor, in ter v iew 3 3 ) ,

'

The romantic dinner at home uses many o f the elements of restaurant rituals: food and dress " nicer" than usual, soft lighting, background mu­ sie. These elements make the dinner at home a ritual experience analo­ gous to the consumerist version of dinner in the restaurant. This re­ spondent even referred to the moment as a " ritual, " thus suggesting that he was aware of the formal character of romance and intentionally con­ structed it as such. The symbolic meaning of restaurants can be skillfully reconstructed by respondents within their homes through their manipu­ lation of the boundaries implied in ritual. This in turn suggests that the sphere of consumption and the rituals it affords a re not straight­ forwardly opposed to the domestic sphere. Conversely, going to a restaurant can be often associated with such "at-home" meanings as informality and simplicity. The social groups that Bourdieu viewed as having much cultural capital but little

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air econo m ic capital (e.g., the cultural speciali sts ) prefer informal, simple, unpretentious, "homey " restaurants, in contra st to groups with more money b u t less cultural capital ( the " bo u rgeoisie " ), who are more l i kely to prefer the classical elegance of a French resta urant.20 However, the expensive dinner is still the cultural standard against which other tastes

are articulated.

T H E L U X U RY O F R O M A N C E The l i n k betwe en luxu ry and love i s not new in the sociological litera­ ture and o riginates i n Werner Sombart's analysis of capita lism.21 Som­ bart argued that nineteenth-century French upper-middle-class men chose "expensive" mistresses as a way to display their s ocial status. Their wives, in an attempt to compete with the mi stresses, imitated them and spread the use of luxury in romantic and conj ugal relation­ ships. Although Sombart's analysis is hardly relevant to Victorian or even post-Victorian sexual mores and to the economic asceticism of n i neteenth -century Protestant America, i t is still useful in that it points to the connection between social power, love, and luxury. Unlike Som­ bart, however, I pay close attentio n to the ritual meaning of luxury. Luxury items figured conspicuously in my respondents' construc­ tion of the romantic. Women who chose figure 4, an advertisement for expensive china, cited the china itself as well as the champagne as making the scene romantic . "We had a real ly romantic afternoon yes­ terday, " another woman recalled, "we went to see a movie, New York Stories, we came back in a cab, we came home, and I made cham­ pagne cocktails, and we had the champagne and we ma de love and we had dinner and we watched a video and we j u s t stayed home to­ gether" ( female lawyer, interview 23 ) . This vignette weaves together i n formality and intimacy with consumption of both l uxury ( that is, nonnecessary ) items such as a movie, a taxi ride, champagne, a rented video. Such details are meaningful because luxury is part of the larger cultural scenario of romance. Although not a l l respondents mentioned luxury items, c hampagne was stereotypically constructed as more ro­ mantic than beer, salmon or caviar more than hamburgers, formal dress more than jogging clothes, a F rench restaurant more than Mc­ Donald's or a diner. Why are details such as the cab ride and champagne as relevant to a script of romance as the informal intimacy of a domestic moment? The responses of two of my i nterviewees help to answer this question. The

An All-Consuming Love

133

first e x a m pl e is from a mo v i e distributor, the second is from a camera­ man. Both had h i g h cultural competence but incomes b el o w $ 3 0,000 at the time of t h e interview. These things [going to a restaurant] are les s important, you know. Actu­ ally, it's interesting, becau se I went out w ith somebody o nce, and we went to an Italia n resta urant which hap p ened to be a res ta u rant that I wanted to go to, and I tho ugh t it would be a nice place to invite her, and it was a very sort of, l i ke, you know, low-key lighting, you know, candles on the table, all that thing. I had absolutely no sort of intentions. I mean, I wasn't even sure what kind o f a date or what this was going to be, in terms of whether th i s was go ing to be a real date, like, are we going to be romantic partners or whatever? Urn, and ah, when I remember, havi ng d inner and her remarking " Oh, this is so romantic, " and sort of swoon­ ing and I was Iike-

Swooning? You know.

Oh yeah, yeah. And a h , I just thought, all right, I guess it is. I mean, I wasn't like setting the stage, bu t i t hap p ened anyway. I m e an she was sort of s u sceptible to that. See, I was more, sort of, I think, in that pa rtic u lar case, I was going out with her because I sort of wanted to get to know to know her better and figure out how I felt about her. As it turns out, it was a funny sort of date. I mean I wasn 't sure and she wasn't s u re what we were looki ng for there, so, we ended up going out after that and sort of beco m ing romanti­ cally involved for a very short period of time, but, urn, that was what I would call " romamic setting. " I mea n , in its re a ll y very cliched form and it all had everyth ing to do with the props and the lighting and I suppose that it could be a very effective means of seduction, but I've never really thought, not that I've thought about seduction, but I've neve r been all that, perhaps, urn, h a, disin-, well, I was going to say "disingenuous." ,

Why did you say it may be "effective " ? Well, I mean, clearly, tha t i n this situation, with this young woman, i f I had been bent on seducing her, then that would have really sort of helped set the stage, you know. That wasn't my i n tent ion . I was more sort of sayi ng, " Let's see what happens." (Male film dist ri buto r interview 3 4) ,

What kind of restaurants do you go to ? (The respondent had ;ust men­ tioned that he would take a woman to a restaurant if he wanted to have a romantic moment with her., Generally not chic, unchic restaurants because I find the food isn t so good and the prices are too high [at chic restaurants] and also j ust geogra phically, there are so many restaurants in N ew York. [Pause] I have tried to go to '

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

1 34

expensive restaurants with special dates and it works! It does work! But I don't know that it necessarily is worth it.

What do you mean,

"it works " ?

Every time I have taken a woman to a French restaurant in Soho and spent $ 12.0, I can be pretty sure that the evening will end agreeably but it seems, it seems, a little like a set up. How do

you explain that it works?

I think that anybody who is, I think that if a woman took me to a very expen­ sive me a l which was very good, and the wine was great, that was obvio usly a really good restaurant, that would turn me favorably in their direction.

Can ),ou explain why? I think when you go to a really n ice resta urant it just sets up a nice tone to your conversation and to j ust being with the other person. ( Male camera­ man, interview 2. 5 )

The answers o f both men begin b y denying that resta urants a re impor­ tant to their experience of romance. Yet the ir examples suggest that lux­ ury goods have two crucial functions in romantic interactions: they are " seduction aids" (they helped both men reach sexual goals), and they make the romantic moment an intense ritual experience in which the couple's feelings are intertwined with the ostentatious act of spending. While the first a rgument perta ins to what we might call the sociology of seduction, the second pertains to the symbolic anthropology of goods. Luxury goods may be viewed as instrumental in seducing because they point to the social status of their u sers . Veblen, for example, suggested that the consumption of luxury commodities is an i ndex of prestige and power and there fore more seductive than ordinary commodities .22 Since expensive French restaurants are associ ated with an upper-middle-class lifestyle, taking a woman to such a resta u­ rant is a display of social and cultural power. Because women, the reasoning goes, tend to marry men a bove their class ( hypergamy ) , the display of luxury commodities i s seductive as it conveys implicit messages about the man's social status. The second perspective, from symbolic anthropology, views lux ury commodities as symbols whose use and e fficacy lie i n the meanings they make the couple experience and enact. Despite the fact that both men declared their distaste for " chic" restaurants and for what they referred to as a " stage" or " set up," they proceeded to explain that nice restaurants are effective in seducing a

An All-Consuming

Love

woman. Both accounts clearly presuppose that the expensive restaurant has a symbolic efficacy that lies beyond a man's conscious and willful control. The first example is pa rticu l arly illuminating as the respondent ex p l icitl y suggested that the feeling of romance followed rather than pre­ ceded the dinner, confirming the hypothesis that luxury (the " nice Ital­ ian restaurant," the " expensive " meal, the "great" wine, the "obviously good" restaurant) intensifies the romantic interaction ( " turns you fa­ vorably, " "sets a nice tone to the conversation," etc. ) . Luxury goods gain their symbolic potency by marking a couple's en­ try into a realm defined as nonutilitarian, even anti-utilitarian, in which social bonds are forged in the mode of celebration. Indeed, luxury rein­ forces two crucial dimensions of rituals, formality and embellishment. As we have seen, fancy restaurants are always very formal. The elegance of the restaurant (as manifested, for example, in antique or designer fur­

niture or sophisticated interior architecture) and its explicit attempt to provide an aesthetic decor obviously embellish the setting of the ro­ mantic interaction and make it a theatrical event, that is, a staged inter­ action that heightens emotions and dramatizes relationships through a conventional use of symbols. According to Robert Wuthnow, embellishment and formality give ritual s dramatic as opposed to purely instrumental qualities and make

their communicative functions more intense: "The dramatic, formalistic character of much that is known as ritualistic behavior a ids communi­ cation ."23 If so, then luxurious commodities u ndoubtedly enhance the communicative functions of romantic rituals (and in fact, respondents indicated that the expensive restaurant " sets a nice tone to the conver­

sation ). Luxury commodities generate a romantic atmosphere because, in Jeffrey Alexander's terminology, they are h ighly "energized symbols " and therefore useful i n establ ishing o r reinforcing a bond with another person.24 Luxury can help cry stal liz e and heighten an already existing "

but diffuse romantic attraction, or, when the relationship is already es­ tablished, it can help set the romantic moment apart from the routine of shared everyday life. Luxury commodities have the important symbolic function of draw­ ing more firmly the boundaries between ordinary and extraordinary mo­ ments in a relationship. If we assume that luxury items are not consumed routinely by members of the middle classes, then in all likelihood their use reinforces the perception of romantic moments as taking place in " special" places, with "specia l " people, and at "specia l " times. Luxury commodities generate emotional intensity because they ca rry their user

1}6

All That I s Romantic Melts

into Air

into a category of experience that is aesthetic, formal, and ritua l. Hence they take people, symbolically, far away from their daily lives. But the centrality of luxury for the ideal-type defin itions of romance points to perhaps its most interesting meaning, that of expenditure. The notion of " expenditure " was first developed by Georges Bataille .25 According to him, " expenditure" accounts for all that a society pro­ d uces in " excess," that is, all that evades the useful and utilitarian or­ der and that consumes rather than preserves energy, wealth, equilib­ rium.

An,

rituals,

carnivals,

feasts,

luxury,

laughter,

sexual

perversions-al l such phenomena, according to Bataille, participate in an order that opposes the productive and reproductive fu nctions of so­ ciety. From an economic standpoint, the consumption of lux ury for ro­ mance corresponds to such acts of expen diture, for it ostentatiously sacrifices wealth and evades the law of accumulation and utility. To the extent that these experiences of romance use intangible a nd ephemera l goods that can neither be recuperated nor recycled for fur­ ther accumulation, " waste" is intrinsic to them. In this approach, lux­ ury goods are appreciated not for their status-displaying function but rather as signi fiers that enable people to step into a rea lm of experi­ ence a lternative to the utilitarian , accumulative, and profit-oriented or­ der o f their daily lives . Thus, romantic love has been and continues to be at the cornerstone o f utopias because it reenacts, symbolically, rit­ uals that a ffirm the supremacy of the ind ividual and the display of sac­ rificia l waste. The use of luxury in romance points to a funda mental ambivalence in the role of consumption in the romantic utopia : through the use of luxury goods, people temporarily "declassify " themselves, in the sense that they momentarily step out of their social class and the entire system of classification and experience through romance a symbolic waste of wealth, a "loss" all the more intense and pleasurable in binding the couple in the mutually shared pleasure of erotic and emotional fusion. However, in contemporary society, such consummation cannot be divorced from the fact that it is most conspicuously enjoyed by the "rich and famous, " and in this respect it is imbued with the status-signaling function of "mundane " consumption.26 William Le iss suggests that absolute levels of consumption are less significant than its actua l use and meaning in the various social con­ texts of interpersonal relationships. For him, consumption and its icons are increasingly the " point of contact between these two realms of goods and needs, mediating between objects and the broader world of

I }7

An All-Consuming Love

culture. "27 This view usefully suggests that luxury commod ities medi­ ate between the realm where i n dividuals compete with one another to secure s ocially desirable partners and a realm of ritual where people strive toward fusion, equality, and waste. We reach here what seems to be a paradox: while l uxury goods tie p eopl e to the realm of status competition, their sym b ol ic meanings enhance the ritualistic, non­ utili t ari a n , and emotionally i n te ns e character of romance, thereby defusing the perception that one i s involved in an act of consumption. The deeper the obj ective hold of the market o n the romantic experi­ ence, the more ritualized a n d therefore subjectively remote from t he market this exp e rien c e becomes. Thus the notion of ri t ual accounts not only fo r the cultural meaning and experience of romance but also for the very mechanism through which the market s tr uctu res the subjec­ tive experience of romance. Ritual is the cultural form through which the p ublic meanings of the sphere of consumption are translated into a s u bj ectively l ived practice of romance. The question remains: how does the category of ritual app l y to those romantic moments that were the most invigorating to my resp ond en ts , namely, encounters i nvolving travel ?

TRAV E L , N ATU R E , A N D R O M A N C E When asked to recal l the moments that were most romantic to them, al­ most everyone mentioned a moment that took place far away from his or her home a nd from the city, either symbolica lly or geographically.

Typical answers in c luded " it was in the Poco nos Mountains," "when we were at the beach eating potatoes cooked on fire," walk ing on cliffs in an Irish island," "in South America touring," "in Mexico walking on "

the beach," or " when we went to the country. "

It was wonderful. [This respondent is recalling a trip to England with his girlfriend and another friend.)

What was

wonderful about it?

It was very spontaneous, we went very spontaneously. There was, it was just happy, easy relating, lots of laughter, it was exhilarating and nothing to do but have fun and eat. ( Male actor, interview 1. 9 ) The theme of romance is here intertwined with the theme of travel as in­ tense, exciting, and fun, which has pe rva ded American mass culture since the end of nineteenth century.2 8

All Th a t I s R o ma ntic Melts into Air

138

CAn you remember a romantic moment?

P r o babl y when I was traveling with someone t h rough Italy and we were at

S pa nis h steps in Rome, the moon was out, we bought some wine, and we sat on the steps. We we re a little older, every bo dy around was stude nts, and I s tarted to si ng I was an opera singer, and a wh ole group came a nd surrounded me, was a pp la u ding me. When they left, it was just the two of us. It was a very special moment, a very special fee l i n g (Male investment banker, interview 4 )

the

.

.

This last e x a m p l e contains some of the m ost basic co mp o ne n t s o f the visual c li ches of romance

analyzed

in c h a pter 3 : a fo re ig n country, a

European ci ty steeped in history, moonlight, wine,

an event th a t breaks

the routine as the lover s i ngs an aria, and the final isolation of the two lovers. A l l these e le ments constitute

a

high l y aestheticized vignette of

romance . An ot he r r esp on d ent illuminated the str e ngth of the connection be­ tween r o m an ce and travel: What was

a romantic moment for you ?

I do n 't know, uh, I think the most, uh, the one I remember, when I was in [ in audible ] in the mountains. What?

Paradise Stream in the mountai ns, it was very, uh, that's all it was, just cou­ p le s, that wa s very nice, the setting was very nice, the whole week was, uh, [inaudible] . How long ago was this? It was a very nice week, the setting, everything there was nice, really

nice views, nice music, that whole week was as I am concerned, uh-

a

ni ce

very romantic week, as

,

far

How long ago was this? Uhmm, that was, uh, twelve years ago. I ha ve had some [la ughs] but that

st ands out. I gue s s it was the setting, in the h o us e you have the sa me setting all the time, u n le ss you go out for dinner, you know [ inaudible]. ( Male j a n i

­

tor, interview 4 0)

This answer is remarkable because,

although twelve years old, this mem­

ory is nevertheless the first one mentioned. The re sponde nt himself rejects the poss ibi l ity that this was the on l y romantic moment of his life and sug­

gests that, fo r reasons he does not understand, this moment am ong all oth-

An All-Consuming Love

139

ers "stands out." The occurrence of his experience during travel to a rela­ tively remote place had a long-lasting impact on the memory of this man who, because of limited income, has traveled very little in his life. A fourth example underscores the emotional invigoration of travel. At different places and times I interviewed two respondents who at the time of the interviews were going out together. When asked about a ro­ mantic moment they had experienced in any of their relationships, each recalled separately the same episode: walking on a beach, at sunset, in Mexico-a moment that corresponds to one of the most codified vi­ gnettes of romance . Theoretically, travel can be divided into two subcategories: in " wild na­ ture" and in luxurious or comfortable settings. Both are removed from the daily urban world, symbolically and geographically. Although the two can sometimes be mixed (e.g., staying at a luxury hotel in the midst of a wild, exotic landscape ), they a re analytically distinct. When recalling and re­ counting their romantic moments, however, even the wealthy respondents did not mention luxury as a feature relevant to the romanticism of their travel memories, though luxury was evoked in the case of restaurant memories. Quite predictably, it was the romantic pastoral utopia that exerted the most powerful influence over respondents' experiences and their accounts of romance. These accounts drew from various cultural traditions of depicting nature, as ill ustrated in the following example: Do you like going out [for a romantic moment]? ( l ike out d oo rs, li ke hi k i n g or playing ba ll in the park, l i ke walking through Centra l Park, or ro ll e r skating, canoeing on the Del a wa re, camp­ i ng, those kinds of things. It's r e a l , you're out there with nature, with beauty, w it h God, and you are there with someone you ca re for. (Male physician, i n te rview 8)

For the romantic sensibility, nature is the direct manifestation of and of­ fers the possibility of communion with God.29 This answer embodies three other themes that a lso have their source in nineteenth-century ro­ manticism: nature, persona l authenticity, and the emotional fusion of two people. Examples of the sublime, analyzed in the previous chapter, can be found in the following respondent's report: on an is­ h o was very chari smatic and I rea l l y kind of admired

Well, once, I was seventeen, I was in Irela nd, and we we re staying l a nd and I met a man

w

All That Is Romantic Melts into A i r

him. And we w e nt for a wa l k one day and we walked a nd walked for miles and miles and miles and miles and, as we wa l ke d it was l i k e we got to a cer­ tain poi nt , well, we came, at the end of the walk, at the very end, when we decided to tum around, we'd come to some cliffs and, looking down, it seeme d like just this i n c red i bl e transformation at th at time, from the be gi n n in g of our walk to where we got to th e cli ffs a nd talking a b ou t all kinds of th i ngs , it seemed k in d of spiritual at that moment. It just felt like there was a deep con­ nec t io n between this person and I and, you k no w this country where my an­ ce st ors came from and the wa lk back was pret ty compacted and it felt also ,

,

,

,

sexual to me. (Female artist, i nterview 3 5 )

Except for the concl uding reference t o sexuality, this description has all the characteristics of nineteenth-century romanticism. Spiritual themes, reference to ancestors, and intensity of bonds seem interwoven with a Freudian "oceanic" feeling of undifferentiated fusion with the environment. A very different invocation of n ature can be found in the following response of a young woma n who also reca lled a memora ble romantic moment that had taken place a few years before the interview. Ca" you give me

an

example of a romantic moment you

have

had, re­

cently or not?

One romantic moment was in Wisconsin, in t he lake di strict of Wisconsin. I was w i th so me bod y on a lake with nobody ar o u n d we were there for ,

four, five days and didn't see anyone else and it wa s so empty that you could j ump w it h no c l ot h e s into the water, take your

bath into the water.

Later we sat down and had some caviar and vodka . What

was romantic about it?

Being w it h some body and fee l i ng completely away from the rest of the world. ( Female filmmaker, interview

2.)

Here, clearly combined, are the simple innocence, the a uthenticity of nature, the isolation from the outs ide, urban world, and the Edenic abundance of l uxury euphemized as nature. The descri ption evokes a mythical vision of a paradise where people rediscover the original and primal purity of their bodies.3o The caviar and vodka, which are lux­ ury items (consumed by people who have a taste in foreign foods and thus a certain a mount of cultural capita l ) , do not disrupt this pastoral vision but, on the contrary, accentuate the aesthetic and Eden ic themes of this vignette of romance.

An Al l-Consuming Love

How can we account for the extraord inary power that their travels seem to exert over people's memories? Why is a romantic moment experienced in a natural or e xotic setting m ore powerful than one spent in a luxurious resta urant or hote l ? The answer is multifold and is at the heart of the fascination with romance in contemporary American culture . Traditional theories of memory pred ict that people are most likely to remember events that correspond to an already existing schematic structure_ 3 1 As we saw in chapter 3, the theme of travel i s the most widespread and codified visual vignette of romance. Because it is so well established, we can specu late that people have wel1defined schematic structures to process, o rganize, and retrieve their romantic travels. However, since l uxu rious romance is also abun­ dantly represented in our media imagery, this explanation alone will not d o . A second explanation, which d o e s not exclude t h e previous o n e , de­ rives from the socia l p sychology of emotion. When people find them­ selves in new a n d unfamiliar s ituations, their level of physiological arousal is higher.32 I f the sensations of this a rousal, such as fear and ex­ citement, are associated with a person to whom they might feel at­ tracted, the i r feel i ngs toward this other w i l l be heightened. With male subjects, for example, Dutton and Aron have shown that, when a s so­ ciated with the sight of a pretty woman, fee lings of fear significantly in­ creased subjects' perce i ved attraction to the woma n . 3 ] It is easy to see how travel could bring this psychological mechanism to bear. Travel is likely to ind uce feel i ngs of uncerta inty ( th e universe is unknown ) and excitement (the universe is new ) . When the physiological arousal pro­ voked by such circumstances is associated with the presence of a lover, it is likely to increase the intensity of the bond . A third explanation encompasses the previous two but integrates them in a more comprehensive cultural fra mework. As we have seen, the a ssociation of romance with travel o ften evokes images o f nature, pu rity, and authenticity in which the self is regenerated. Such mental images tap into and recapitulate the romantic utopia, for both roman­ tic love and nature a re presumed to represent the most authentic parts of our selves, as opposed to the inaut hentic ity of urban l i fe (the usual setting in w h ich romance is associated with luxury ) . These symbols are particularly powerful because they are institutionalized in the media and are supported by a powerful tourist industry. But, most of a l l , they

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

resonate with the emotional intensity of ritual and the gratuity of ex­ penditure . The rituals lived during travel are especially potent because they enable people to withdraw thoroughly from daily routine, work, and social obligations. They represent not only a separation from but also a dramatized suspension of ordinary constraints and a shift to a purely gratuitous, noninstrumenta l mode of relationship. Travels take people to the frontier of liminal ity and are the most pristine ex pression of expenditure, and in this respect they embody our ideal-typical defi­ nition of romance. R O M A N C E AS L l M I N A L l TY In Turner's famous definition of liminal ritual, the individual separates from the environment through symbolic behavior and is detached from an "an earlier fixed point in the social structure or from an established set of cultural conditions. " Liminal rituals propose "inverted " or " subverted" social arrangements. "In this interim 'I iminality,' the possibility exists of standing aside not only from one's own social position but from all posi­ tions and of formulating a potentially unlimited series of alternative social arrangemenrs."34 The concept of liminal ritual applies only to religious rituals. Later, Turner forged the concept of "Iiminoid" rituals for analo­ gous but secular phenomena.3S Liminoid rituals are defined by the three respects in which they differ from limina l ones: ( I ) The liminoid ritual takes place in secular industrial societies. In modem societies, Iiminality has been transferred from religious rituals, which transgress and invert regular sym­ bols, to the areas of leisure, art, and popular culture, which assume the function of engaging the actor in the ludic activity of liminality. ( 2) limi­ nal rituals are produced and consumed collectively and anonymously, whereas liminoid rituals are produced or embodied by identifiable per­ sonalities such as actors and pop stars. ( 3 ) While liminal rituals are wholly related to the social system in which they take place, liminoid rituals oc­ cur on the economic and political margin's of modern societies. We have seen how, during travel, people remove themselves, geo­ graphically and symbolically, from the normal conduct of their lives. "Getting out into nature " can increase romantic feelings not only by re­ inforcing the sense of isolation that is an intrinsic part of the cultural de­ finition of romance but by intensifying experience in general. As Jakie and MacCannell have shown, tourism emerged as a way to experience intense feelings as well as escape daily routine.36 Institutionalized as va­ cation, travel takes on the ritual character of cyclical events in which

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people detach themselves from their daily urban lives and gain access an­ other order of reality. 37 Romantic travel en acts the three stages that char­ acterize liminality: separation, marginalization, and reaggregation. As MacCannell argues, the cultural experience of tourism stresses the claims of the " natural," authentic self against those of society. The mode of sociality promoted by romance is organic and anti­ institutional rather than contractual or formal . My respondents made clear that they share this anti-institutional experience of the romantic self by insisting that in romantic moments they feel more " relaxed," that they let "their guard down," that the " interactions are more genuine, " and that they can reveal their " true selves. " The form of emotionality involved here is that of communitas, which Turner defines as a state of intense emotional fusion a mong members of the same group.38 These cultural meanings are also those l i ved in liminal-or rather, liminoid-rituals of romance during which energies are released and the rules presiding over social interactions inverted. As an interviewee said about his trip to England: " It was wonderful . It was very spontaneous , w e went very spontaneously, there was, i t w a s j ust happy, easy relating, lots of laughter. It was exhilarati ng and nothing to do but have fun and eat" (male actor, interview 29 ) . Another interviewee expressed the limi­ nal character of romance very well: " Romance goes more naturally with a life free of responsibility or life that is, or perhaps an [inaudible] pe­ riod like a vacation where you can put them aside for some reason" (male a rt dealer, interview 4 3 ). These responses concur in suggesting that, on travels, romance brings about spontaneity and a sense of freedom lack­ ing in the regu lar conduct of life. As cultural critic Frederic Jameson aptly observed: " Romance is a wish fulfillment or Utopian fantasy which aims at the transfiguration of everyday \ife in such a way as to restore the conditions of some lost Eden. "39 In capitalism, this Eden is one in which relations of production seem to be miraculously erased. The fantasy of romance matches the utopian fantasy of capitalism: a society of perpetual leisure . Liminal ritu­ als are particularly potent because they erase all that which character­ izes the sphere of production: work, effort, profit, self-interest, and money. ( Sexual relationships during vacation symbol ically negate not only work but even childrearing, the productive, reproductive meaning of love.) In this respect, travel is a more consummate case of expendi­ ture in Bata ille's sense than more urban romantic activities like dining out or even luxury goods. Not only do vacations require larger amounts of time and money, they also have weaker instrumental functions of

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displaying status, since they are usually underta ken after one's partner has been chosen. However, although romantic travel, in its spontaneity and freedom, seems opposed to the formality of luxury goods, such travel is still com­ plicit with consumer capitalism. Corresponding to what sociologists of consumption call an "experience good, " travel is inscribed within the high-profit industry of leisure and a structured market of local and in­ ternational tourism: as already discussed in chapter 3 , it usually requires travel expenses, accommodation expenses, and participation in the lo­ cal tourist trade. Funhermore, as cultural historians such Roland Mar­ chand and Jackson Lears have convincingly shown, antimodernist motifs such as the quest for the authentic self and the saving power of nature have been elaborated by and within consumer culture. Far from being divorced from consumer culture, the nexus travel-romance is fully merged with it and may even be considered its epitome. The consumption of travel for romantic purposes represents a perfect example of a " postmodern" commodity. The lived experience of such a commodity is interlocked with the attributes or meanings of the object consumed as well a s with the act of consumption itself. In other terms, in a postmodern commodity the sign suffuses and subsumes the material constituents of the commodity itself. As Michael Featherstone puts it, in consumer culture "commodities masquerade as experiences and experi­ ences are turned into commodities."4o Furthermore, the experiences promised by postmodern commodities are themselves peculiarly " post­ modern" : such commodities purport to offer a threshold to symbolic practices of transgression, inversion, and "carnivalesque pleasures." Ac­ cording to Featherstone and Fiske the profusion of images and styles, the unbridled expression of multiple identities, the practice of transgression, the celebration of disorder, and the release of libidinal pleasures are in­ trinsic to postmodern culture.41 lt is easy to see how such phenomena also express Bataille's notion of expenditure and Turner's concept of liminality. The l i mi nalit y of the romance-trave l nexus, however, is not achieved through the depthless meanings and fragmented subjectivity that ac­ company and characterize postmodern experience. Q uite the contrary: liminality is here attained through a limited and highly codified range of symbolic meanings and mental i mages re vol v ing around the signifieds nature and exoticism, authenticity, and isolation. Furthermore, these ex­ periences, far from fragmenting the identity of respondents, seem to bring them back to a craved-for unity through the emotionally compact experience of ritual.

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That there is a spillover from the rel i g ious to th e s ec ul a r s phere of meaning is far from new to Durkheimian s oc io l ogy. Jeffrey Al e xa nde r argues that se cu l ar symbols a n d commodities ca n b e the de p a rtu re point for the experience of sacred meanings insofar as t h ey can un­ dergo a process of decommodification and be incorporated within per­ sonal meanings that confer sacredness_42 However, the sacredness of commercial rituals of romance is not the result of a p r o cess of " de­ commodification " : they a re not withdrawn from the sphere of con­ sumption and their meanings are not personalized.43 Because the s a ­ cred meanings of travel, going out, luxury good s, and all the other components of romance are l argel y esta blished and ( to borrow Do ug­ las and I s he rw oo d's characterization of rituals) " imm ob i l i ze d" thr ou gh the public c h anne l s of mass media, they are collective. Th ey interlock with the private e x perience of romance by reta ining thei r col­ lective and publ ic meanings. According to Durkheim, the experience of r it ua l has the function of renewing the individual's connection to the social whole_ Althou gh here the other to whom one feels intensely connected is a single individual, consumption-based rituals of romance do renew the couple's relation­ ship to the social body by drawing boundaries that seal them off from the profane world and by immersing them in the pseudo-symbolic and pu bl i c community o f media images.44 Having said this, it is imp ortant not to overdraw the a na logy between religious rituals proper and ro­ mantic r i tua l s based in commercial leisure. The question is prec ise ly to k now the extent to which D u r khei m was correct in i mp l y ing a symme­ try between religion proper and the secular meanings forged in modern s oc iety. I address this question obliquely by inquiring about the utopian content of the commercial rituals of leisure. THE C O M M E R C E O F L O V E : I D E O L O G Y OR U TO P I A ?

Paul Ricoeur differentiates ideology from utopia on the ground that, while the latter articulates the rati ona l fa ntasy of a lternative social re­ lati o nsh ip s , ideology reproduces p ower and interests.45 Whence the question, is modern romantic love a utopia, that is, a c ategory of the imagination that articulates values alternative to the market and co m ­ modity exchange, or is it an ideo l og ic al system serving and furthering the interests of ca p ita l ism? To put the question more broa d ly, how is the meaning of love affected by its incorporation within the culture of c ap it al is m ?

All

That Is Romantic Melts into Air

Marx's analysis of the impact of commodities on human relationships remains the place to begin answering these questions. His critique makes at least four a nalytically distinct c laims: commodities have thoroughly pervaded the fabric of human relationships, they mystify consciousness, they debase the nature of human needs, and they are obstacles to any project of self-liberation . Critical theory has e xtended this critique to the phenomenon of global mass consumption, a rguing that capitalism has invaded the innermost elements of subjectivity, debased our freedom and autonomy, and neutralized our creativity.46 My own analysis confirms the Marxian claim concerning the all­ pervasiveness of commodification: capitalism has implacably invaded the most private corners of our interpersonal and emotional lives. Although the market does not control the entire spectrum of romantic relationships, most romantic practices depend on consumption, directly or indirectly, and consumerist activities have thoroughly permeated our romantic imagi­ nation. But can we conclude from this that the quality of the romantic bond has been debased ? How are we to shift from this observation to a normative evaluation of romantic practices as either debased or enriched? A standard charge brought against the commodification of romance is that it has lowered the quality and intimacy of the romantic bond by making objects mediate between people and by focusing on the imper­ sonal public space of consumption. Such a claim is problematic, how­ ever, because, historically, the move of courtship from the parlor to the impersonal realm of consumption was perceived by the actors of the pe­ riod--especially women-as a gain in freedom and not as a confinement. Stephen Kern, for example, has il luminated the ways in which, during the Victorian era, a variety of " others" exerted sti fling pressures on the couple, on women especially.47 The evaluation of the role of goods in the romantic bond must therefore wrestle with the question of whether di­ rect constra ints exerted by some individuals ( families most nota bly ) over other individuals (women most notably) a re in some sense "preferable" to the fuzzier constraints exerted by the invisible yet a ll-powerful mar­ ket forces embodied in consumer goods. Undoubtedly, as Marx and Weber observed, it is far more di fficult to i dentify and therefore resist the abstract and diffuse power exerted by capita l i sm than that of an individual or a community. But j ust how commodities and consumption curtail personal freedom is far from clear. For one thing, consumpti o n was accompanied and sustained by a modernist project of freedom and emancipation that was actively

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promoted by advert i sers .48 Equating choices between brands of com­ modities with freedom w ould probably be derided by commun ita rians or n eo - Marxists as the false freed om allotted by the alliance between media and capital , but I would argue that such rhetoric of freedom­ however morally impoverished-provides a powerful cultural idiom articulating freedom to choose, enter, or leave one's relationships. Such freedom is inhe r en t i n the lib e rati ng a n d i n d ividualizi ng effects of ro­ mantic love and for that reason has been avidly ca pitalized by the mar ­ ket. Furthermore, commodities lend themselves far more easily to cul­ tural resistan c e than d i rect relations of power exe rcised between individuals. That is, goods can be and often are used to oppose or by­ pass the same market forces t h a t pro d uced them . Although it is indis­ putable that these forms of re s istance do not thre aten the structure of

c apital , it remains that w e cannot simply equ ate goods with a n unre­ stricted subservience to the market; we must examine how moral mean­ ings interlock with economic forc e s. Final ly, far from lowering the stan­ dards of i n timacy, the mo ve of romance i nto the publ ic sphere of consumpt i on has been accompanied by a st a u n c h celebration of emo­ tional intimacy. Having said this , h o wever, I w ould like to argue that even i f con­ sumerist romantic rituals are important sources of meanin g , these mean­ ings are a far cry from the a we - provoking meanings of religi o n and pre­

modern romantic love. The reason for this is plain enough : the increase in the o bj ective freedom to choos e whom one loves or does not love and the conception of love as a field fo r personal experiments have dealt a fa tal blow to the a b solute character of the Roma n tic or even Vic t oria n rhetoric of love by ma k in g love subject to the moral and emotional rela­ tivism that has pervaded secular culture at large. With respect to the mystification of conscio u sness, the Marxian con ­ cepts of fetishism and reific atio n all a s sume that consc iou s ness ignores the real nature of social practices and mistakes appearance for essence. The commodification of all sp heres of life is achieved by ma k i ng com­ modities seem divorced from the social relation s h ip s that pro d uced them, the result of abstract economic forces rather than of concrete re­ latio n s of production. Luk acs, pursuing Ma rx's a n alysis, argued that reification comes to function as a " universal structu ring principle " pene­ trating all spheres of social expe rie n ce .4 9 When peopl e recount moments they found romantic, they per c eive them as entirely divorced from acts o f consumption that m ade them

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

pos sible . Co ns umption is a lwa y s , in one of Bourdieu's favorite expressions, misrecognized, espec iall y when the moment rec alle d has liminal me a ni ngs . 50 In remembering romantic moments, res pond ents stepped into the emotional experience of romance a nd evaded ( " for­ got " ) its consumerist character. It is wi thi n the su s pens i on of suspicion ( required by the experience of ritual) and their a bsor pti on in the emo­ tions of the romantic bond that people lose sight of the c o n s u me ri st character of their own p r a ctice s and ( unconsciously) rep rod uce the con s umer i st order. R oma n ti c encoun ter s displ ay s characteristics of what we might call, reversing Marx, " person fetishism " : that is, it is not the c o mmod i ty that seems to be divorced from the persons who prod u ced it, as in commodity feti s h i sm , but rather the people who seem divor c e d from the commodities that prod uc ed their expe r i­ ence . Relationships between people and obj ect s take on t h e appearance of r e l at i o n s h i p s between people. However, w h e n r esp onde n ts are a sk e d to exp res s an opinion on ro­ m a nc e or to react to a cultural artifact representing romance-that is, when the y are removed from the emot i o nal intensity of their own memo­ ries-th ey switch to a critical mode and show clearly that they are awa re of the economic and i de ol ogi c al underpinnings of romantic pract ices. Far from bei ng " duped " by and unaware of the origins o f their cultural models, some res po n dent s can readily identify the commercial ch ara cte r of romanc e. [Romance is) just like sell i n g cars, selling computers, sel li ng cosmetics, sell­ ing women's lib, it's a journalistic hype and it really has n o th i n g to do with

the way ] feel. (Female ed i tor, interview 3 )

I n m y mind romance i s sort o f a fantasy-like c oncept , of the boy, i n the boat with the girl, it's a fa n ta s y of dinner with candlelight in an e xpensive French restaurant, it's a phoniness kind of thing. Ro m a nce is this bullshit Park Av e­ nue restaurant, wine and roses and flowers t)'pe of concept. (Male physician,

interview 8 )

I think romance is an overworked exp re ssi on that i s a general rubric for th i ngs more spec i fic to a particular person.

What do you mean by "overworked" ? Well, romance i s one o f these pop words, i n m y mind, that is e very thi ng from these flashy magazine photographs, to the relationship between your psychiatrist and his patient. I mean, it j ust doesn't mean anything, it is just an overcommercialization of an emoti on which is far more complex t h a n the term relates. (Male cameraman, imerview 26)

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1 49

In Marxist terminology, these answers are attempts to defetishize the commodified construction of romance. It is important to mention, how­ ever, that in my sample, the respondents most l ikely to manifest such critical distance a re middle- or, more frequently, upper-middle-class who score relatively high on educational capital and are involved in the cre­ ation or distribution of culture.51 Such "defetisruzation " of commodi­ ties is often accompanied by a self-conscious irony and is characteristic of postmodern culture and of the social groups that are the its chief pro­ ducers and consumers. Additional research should determine the extent to which these iconoclastic practices are expressions of an upper­ middle-class ethos or whethe r such social critique and defetishization are commonly found among lay actors in general.S2 The third Marxian claim pertains to the nature of needs. Marx argued that consumption creates compulsive needs because ultimately it can never satisfy them. This frustration of needs makes us engage in repeated at­ tempts to fulfill them. 53 Consequently, capitalism reifies subjectiviry by re­ ducing us to what Herbert Marcuse called "unidimensionaliry," the stunted development of one side of our being at the expense of others. This is related to the fourth Marxian claim, that consumption is inimical to any project of emancipation. Theorists criticized the culture of consumption on the grounds that it transformed people into passive consumers, deny­ ing our utopian potential to be creative users. 54 Contrary to the Marxian critique of consumption, however, numer­ ous examples from my interviews suggest that people feel espec ially in control of their lives precisely when they devise romantic moments based on consumption. Do you prefer to

go out or stay home?

It's kind of hard to say right now because (of their new baby). Before, I guess, [ woul d prefer to stay home, just because we're both working in the city. So o n Friday it would be nice just to stay home, re a l l y j ust to have

wine and stay home . And now?

Now, i t's a treat to go out! We have been out only once to dinner since the baby was born. That was nice, t hat was nice to just get away, see some­ thing different than 12.7 Crestview. (Female, homem aker, interv iew 2. 7 ) If you really love somebody, you're going to work on your relationship and try to do di fferent th i ngs to make it not boring. That's the way I feel.

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1 50

What

kind of things does one do not to make it boringr

Like I say, go on different trips, just go places. It could be anywhere. Walk, go to the mall or something. Just be together. (Female sec u r i ty officer, in­ terview 3 7 ) D o you think that romance is important to keep love going?

Yeah,

I do. I think it's always important, it's part of l i fe as far as I am concerned, it's one of the bener parts. And what else do you do, besides work and eat and drink. Yeah, I think it's very i mportant. ( Male janitor, i n te rvi e w 40)

All these examples illustrate similar important points. The experience of "going out" or " doing things together" gives people a sense of pleasure and empowerment. Both working-class and upper-middle class respondents-if for different reasons-felt empowered, crea­ tive, and active when they e xperienced romance, consumerist and nonconsumerist. Thus, one can find no traces in people's sub;ective accounts of criti­ cal theory's diagnosis of consumerism as a cultural pathology. Com­ modities function as expressive symbolic tools that increase the drama­ tistic and communicative qualities of the roma ntic interchange. Far from inhibiting and repressing the self, commodities in fact serve as useful aids for its dramatization. It is important, however, not to fall into the n aive view that people are always aware and in control of all the conditions of their practices and that their discourse is the yardstick by which we should evaluate the effect of commodities. Rather, the challenge is to explain market­ based romance through mechanisms that take into account, rather than exclude, people's own understandings of their practices. Any explana­ tion of the commodification o f romance must also " involve individu­ als-their properties, their goals, their beliefs and their actions. " 55 Al­ though in Durkheimian sociology the notion o f ritual discounts the purposive character of h uman conduct, here it enables us to explain the intentional, pleasurable, and active character of people's participation in the leisure-based formula of romance. The notion of ritual is the link between mass-marketed goods, mass·marketed symbols, a nd the sub­ jective fee l ings of pleasure, creativity, freedom, and withdrawal from commodity exchange. This in turn implies that there is no simple di­ chotomy between the realm of intersubjective relationships and the sphere of consumption, for the meanings that maintain the " life-world"

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Love

of romance are constructed within, rather than outside, the capitalist system . CON CLUSION

The findings o f this chapter undoubtedly support the postmodern idea that our cultural experience and social relationships have become thor­ oughly enmeshed with the goods and meanings of the sphere of con­ sumption. Although romance often occurs outside consumption, ro­ mantic moments proper nevertheless are based on the consumption of luxury goods and cultural products. The most conspicuous commodi­ ties in respondents' accounts were restaurant meals and, especially, travel experiences. Even the moments experienced by respondents as domes­ tic, intimate, and quiet involved the presence of a technology of com­ munication or the indirect presence of another type of commodity, or both. This, in turn, confirms that the commodification of romance ana­ lyzed in the previous historical s ection has deepened: it is not confined anymore to the public sphere of consumption but has extended its hold to the home. The consumption of leisure goods offers more than mere "depthless meanings, " however. Such periodic, deliberate participation in the sphere of consumption knits together goods and meanings of public cul­ ture into a cyclical regeneration of the romantic bond through the ex­ perience of stable, o rdered, and codified meanings of ritual ( seclusion from the outside environment, te mporary withdrawal from the mean­ ings of everyday life, and disclosure of an authentic self. ) This romance-ritual-consumption nexus occupies two opposed sym­ bolic axes, with opposing visions of utopia: the first stresses formal and luxurious expressions of romance, through which people temporarily ac­ cess the glamour and aestheticized lives of celebrities. While tapping into a utopia of Im'e, this experience of ritual accepts social distinction and the unequal distribution of affl uence. The second symbolic axis, on the contrary, invokes anti-institutional definitions of the self and the cultural experience of liminality. In conjuring the transgression of social con­ straints, the release of an authentic self, and the lovers' fusion in an or­ ganic bond, the experience of liminality provides a temporary access to the egalitarian utopia most often associated with pastoral and wilderness. My results indicate that the romantic bond has indeed been colonized by the market, but I argue that capitalism has neither debased a more meaningful (Victorian) love nor " domesticated " a more subversive

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

love.56 Consumerist love invokes values and pri n c ipl es that have had an e m a n c i p a t or y p o ten t i a l thr ou g h o ut Western h is t o r y : individualism, s e lf realization, affirmation of the individual's personal qualities, and equal­ ity between the sexes in t h e mutual experience of pl e as u re However, as becomes a ppa rent in the next c ha pters , there is a price to pay for this: the meaning of our re la t io n sh i ps is now under the assault of disco urse s and r e gi m es of repre se n t ati o ns that make our quest for relationship ever m ore e l u s iv e Y ­

.

CHAPTER

5

Real Fictions and Fictional Realities For if theater is a double of l ife , life is a double of true the ater.

Artaud, The Theater and Its Doubles Life does not imitate art; it o nly imitates bad television.

from Woody Allen's Hu sb an ds and Wives

When we invoke Romeo and Juliet as mythical figures of love, we con­ veniently forget that before he loved Juliet, Romeo went through the tur­ moiJs of an equally intense and i m possible passion for Rosaline. Still sick of love for Rosaline, Romeo accidental1y sees Juliet and, instantly trans­ ferring his flame, faUs in love with her. Upon confessing his new-found Jove to Friar Lawrence, the latter ironica lly comments on Romeo's sud­ den change of heart: Is Rosa line, that thou d id s t love so dear, So soon forsaken? Young men's love then lies Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.

Later in the dialogue, Friar Lawrence ventures to explain that Rosaline did not return Romeo's love because " she knew wen [Romeo's] love did read by rote, that could not spell. " 1 Friar Lawrence's remark, hinting at the fact that Romeo has mimic­ ked a culturally prescribed language of love, raises a question that, some five hundred years later, haunts the post modern sensibility: is authenticity possible when using culturally prescripted languages? Friar Lawrence's gentle rebuke is acutely relevant to the contemporary condi­ tion, for at no time as in ours has romantic love seemed so irreversibly captive to the scripts of culture, yet at no time as in ours has the individ­ ual been so encouraged to express c reatively and spontaneously his or her romantic passions. It is in this consciousness, split between the disenchanted knowledge that our lives are the paJe shadows of

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air powerful, machine-prod uced dreams and the utopia of the individual's creative self-fulfillment, that romantic love situates itself in contempo­ rary culture. The present chapter attempts to understand how this split consciousness permeates contemporary romantic relationships and how the contradictions in wh ich it is inevitably caught have been shaped by the values of late capitalism. It is a commonplace that the media shape our notions of love. Love stories have penetrated the fabric of our everyday life so deeply that we suspect they have altered, even transformed, our experience of love. Al­ ready in the nineteenth century, FIaubert powerfully illustrated this theme in the character of Madame Bovary, struggling to accommodate her mundane married l i fe to an imagination saturated with the roman­ tic fiction she so eagerly read. 2 Tragically con fusing the representations of love with love itself, Emma Sovary was able to experience love only as a category of romanti c fiction. That romantic fiction is responsible for " disorders of the heart" has frequently been argued in moral discourse for the past three centur ies, but as we saw in chapter 2, this claim has been made with pa rticular insistence since the emergence of mass cul­ ture.] Film and television have replaced nove ls in our culture, and their power to affect our fantasies a n d daydreams with their obsessive repre­ sentation of romance pardy explain the pervasive belief that fiction over­ powers our romantic experience .4 Madame Bovary prefigures our post­ modern condition as perpetual audience, dramatically illustrating the collapse of the boundary betwee n "reality " and its fictional representa­ tion, the "cop y " ultimately prevailing over its referent .5 Romance, then, offers a potent case through which to examine the postmodern claim that the boundary between fiction and reality has collapsed, and that " models take precedence over things."6 The postmodern question of romance continues an old tradition of moral inquiry into the power of romantic fiction to shape " real " emotions. La Rochefoucauld expressed this in his well-known maxim that many people would never have fallen in love had they not heard of it. This moral discourse contrasted an i dealist and a realist approach to love, usually endorsing the latter over the former. The idealist approach af­ firms the absolutist claims of love and passion and has strong affinities with the capacity to construct fantasies. The realist approach, by con­ trast, dismisses these " imaginary" constructions of the mind, which it sees as the result of overexcitable imaginations or, worse, a mere fabri­ cation of poets and novelists. It asserts that love ought to be motivated

Real Fictions and Fictional Realities

1 55

by the practical needs and conditions o f peopl e and that one should ac­ commodate oneself to a less-than-perfect o the r in order to ma i ntai n the durable bond of marriage.? Because romantic fiction seems to have had a problema tic relation­ ship with the "real" experience of love long before the so-called post ­ modern age, it p rov ide s an op po rt un ity to " diffe rentiate between what is specific to the po s nn oder n and what may be an accumulation and in­ tensification of tendencies lo ng present within the modern, and even pre­ mo de rn . " 8 How is the classic disti nc t io n between " rom a n ti c fiction " and " rea li ty" that articulates i ts e l f on the op p os iti on between idealist and re­ alist love translated into the particular idiom of postmodern culture? In what follows, I address this question by examining the forms and mean­ ings that romantic aut obiogra ph y assumes in po stmode r n cultu re. More sp ec i fically, I t r y to establish terms within which to examine the claim that romantic experience " simulates" the love stories that are the s ta ple of Hollywood and television. I n the last decade, psycho l ogist s, a nth r o p ologist s , and historians have devoted new a ttention to the c on ven ti o n s a n d symbo l i c structures of a utobiographical discourse. There is now a broad consensus that the " life story" constructed and co mm unicated by a u tob io gra ph y is a rticu­ lated in culturally p resc ri bed narrative structures.9 The ph i loso p her Alas­ dair MacIntyre has further sugge sted that " we dream in narrative, day-dream in narrative, remember, antici pate, hope, despair, be l ie ve, doubt, plan, revise, c r i tic i ze, construct, gossip, le arn , hate and love by narrative." Emotions are embedded within narrative structures of various scope, shapes, and sizes. Romantic love is fre qu en tl y embedded in a hi gher-o rde r narrative, or " life story," i n which past, present, and future are linked in a coherent and ov er arch i ng vision of the self, lo Although po stmode rn is m has end o r s e d the idea that our iden ti ty is based on narratives, it c a tego ricall y rejects the idea that the self leans on key " ma ste r " narratives-whether of love or anything else-that unify the self by p rovid ing it with continuity and direction. For p o st mod­ ernism, a uto b i og ra p hy has no "center" of action or decision. It is com­ p osed instead of intersecting layers of texts, which forever fragme nt the " narrative unity of the human quest" and, for that matter, the unity of the romantic quest. ] ] Interestingly en ou gh , the question of "autob iograp hy " has not played any si gn i fica n t role in the study of the influence of media on culture . Sch o l a rs have more readily st u d ied the power of media in terms of " wo rldvi ews , " " perceptions," or "reception" but have neglected the

All That

Is Romantic

Melts into Air

fuzzier an d more elusive points of contact between mass media stories and autobiographical discourse. Even less examined are the tangled re­ lationships between autobiography, media stories, and consumer cul­ tu r e-an entanglement at the heart of the p ostmodern con d itio n . The remainder of this chapter tr ies to disentangle some of these rela­ tionships in the context of postmode rn debates on representation. Here al so 1 follow Featherstone's injunction that it is high time to move the study of postmoder n ism from theory to th e an a l ysi s of everyda y prac­ tices . 1 2 To th i s end, 1 asked my respondents to tell me their " m ost memo­ rable" love stories, ones either taking place at the time of the interview or already ended. D u ring another part of the interview, I asked respon­ dents to interpret three s hort love stories designed for the purposes of the interview. Such a strategy was based on the conjecture that the struc­ ture of one's autobiography uses or overlaps with the same structures that are used to interpret stor i es . My overa l l goal was to determine wheth er there was a relatio n ship between the respondents' life narratives of l ove and their interpretations of the fictional love stories I provide d them with du r i ng the interview, and, if s uch a relationship was found, to understand the intersections between the cultural models used to in­ terpret the three s hort stories and the respo ndents' own life stories. (See the appendixes for further methodological details.) S T O RY 1

On Monday of June 1 9 . . . Floy d Johnson and Ellen Sk inne r, total strangers, boarded a train at San Francisco and sat down across the aisle from each other. Floyd crossed the aisle on Wednesday and sat in front of Ellen . Ellen looked at him and thought: "I would say yes if he asked me to marry him . " As Floyd would say later, "The y did all the tal k ing with their eyes. " Th u rsday, the couple got off th e train in Ne b ras k a with plans to be ma rrie d . Because they would h a ve needed the co nse nt of the bride's parents to ge t marr ied the re, th ey crossed the river to Council Bluffs , Iowa, w here th ey were married on Fri day. 13 S T O RY 2

When Robert tur ned thirty, he felt he was read y to start a family. He told this to his parents, who were happy to h e ar that their son was ready to settle down. Robert's parents knew their friends' d a ughte r, Theresa, who, they thought, was a pr om i si ng match because of the man y good quali-

ties she and her family had. They decided to talk to Robert and Theresa to make the match. Both agreed and met late one afternoon. The first meeting was a bit awkward but they liked each other and decided to meet ag a in . With time, the awkwardness disappeared as they came to know, understand, and appreciate each other. Both families were happy. After a few months, Robert and T heresa started thinking about mar­ riage. Robert told Theresa: "I want you for m y wife . " Theresa and Robert discussed the issue for a while and both came to the conclusion that their relationship was good and healthy enough to make a good marriage. They got married the first day of spring. It was a joyous and solemn celebration. S T O RY

3

Amy was successful in her professional life and had many good and re­ liable friends. But she was starting to feel she wanted a greater sense of security and stability in her life. One of her friends introduced her to Tom whom she found lively and intelligent. Tom also liked her calm strength and warmth. They dated each other for a few months, and ex­ cept for occasional fights, they seemed to get along well. One night, Tom held Amy in his arms and told her how good he felt with her. Amy agreed with a kiss. Two years passed. Amy and Tom had known each other well enough to decide that m arriage was the right decision. They waited eight more months to get married in order to get the professiona l promotion that would grant them a secure future. They married the following Oc­ tober and knew they were ready now to have the family they had wanted. LOVE AT F I R S T S I G H T While the interpretations of stories 2. and 3 varied to a certain extent, story I e voked overwhelmingly similar responses: all respondents inter­ preted it as an immediate and intense attraction which led to an irra­ tional decision to get marr i ed . On the other hand, s tory 2. was viewed alternatively as a "fix-up," an " arranged marriage , " a " relationship that begins without love but which might end up with love," or as "a mature marriage of love . " Similarly, story 3 was viewed as a " Yu p pie story of people who do not love each other," or as " a nice combination of pas­ sion and reason , " or as a " modern love story. " Thus, while story I was almost invariably interpreted as a marriage undertaken on the b a sis of impulsive passion, the interpretatio n s of stories 2. and 3 varied between

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

158

"a mature love" and "a cold-hearted and calculated enterprise. " This re­ sult suggests that the meaning of slow-paced love stories is not as well codified as that of fast-paced ones. It is not difficult to account for the high degree of agreement in the interpretation of story I . Confirming that this romantic model has thor­ ough ly pervaded popular culture, respondents viewed it as "the most stereotypical" and "closest to novels or movies, " the "typical story­ book," or a .. Hollywood fantasy. " These responses go hand in hand with my own c onjecture that story I corresponds to the romantic code of love unrelentingly depicted and disseminated by novels and cinema fiction, in both elite and popular culture. Where respondents disagreed with regard to story I was on the na­ ture of the irrational emotion felt by its protagonists. While they agreed on the structure of the story ( its pace, order, and progression), they disagreed on the frame within which to interpret that structure. A small minority saw it as " love at first sight." whereas a lmost all others viewed it as an infatuation. or-a twist performed indepen­ dently and enjoyably by many respondents-as " lust as first sight. " The first interpretation i s explicitly opposed t o the second because "often people think that it's love at the beginning of a relation when that's j ust in fatuation. or a sexual need, b ut not necessarily love. they can be easily mixed up" (working-class female, homemaker, interview 9). This careful separation between different emotions boils down to an attempt to demystify the " love at first sight myth " and was voiced by many respondents, of all socioeconomic strata and of both genders. For example: read the first story I had the se n se of it taking place a long time ago and maybe because it's trains. I have a feeling of it being a time where t he only way you could sleep with somebody is to marry them . So here is two people who were just very hot for each other so they decide to get married so that they can do it. (Female filmmaker, interview 2 )

When I

In answering a n explicit question o n the issue, most respondents d o not believe in or subscribe to the idea of love at first sight.'4 Instead of in­ terpreting story I as the beginning of a possibly lifelong love story, as could have been the case in the Romantic tradition, respondents viewed it as merely the beginning ( "infatuation" ) of a story with dubious chances of lasting the lifetime of its protagonists. In its frequent resort to "lust at first sight" or .. [sexual J chemistry at first sight, " this inter­ pretation shifts the lifelong projected narrative of " love at first sight" to

Real Fictions and Fictional Realities

1 59

a beginning sequence or fragment o f a story with a rather different emo­ tional tonality, that of sexual desire or infatuation. Whenever sexuality was mentioned as a necessary element of roman­ tic love, it was always differentiated from love; that is, love can encom­ pass sexuality as long as it supersedes and "elevates " it. Some respon­ dents even viewed sexuality for its own sake as " very unromantic. " 1 5 Although romantic love has become sexualized, i t i s still viewed a s a "higher" value, both symbolically and morally, than sex per se. Thus, even if sex has been assimilated into the romantic bond, a normative hi­ erarchy between romantic love and sex persists. 16 This hierarchy appears clearly in the meaning of the word " infatuation," which respondents often used to interpret the fee lings of the protagonists of story I . I t was not until the end o f the eighteenth century that " in fatuation" began to acquire its modem sense of " being foolishly in love." Prior to that, it meant "being fatuous and foolish " in an unspecified way ( Ox­ ford English Dictionary). The concept of " infatuation " dismisses the sentiment of " love at first sight" by viewing it as an illusion, a mistaken identification of love with the fleeting feeling of sexual arousal. And this carries a double ideological message: intense and immediate emotions are deceptive and unreliable, and sexual attraction is an insufficient and even dangerous reason to choose a mate . 1 7 If, as is reasonable t o surmise, the cultural ideal o f romantic love, and more specifically of " love at first sight, " is a nchored in the bodily expe­ rience of sexual arousal, these findings are somewhat surprising. The twentieth-century integration of sexuality into romantic love might lead us to expect more hospitality to a sexually based " love at first sight. " But the acceptance of sexuality as part of love has come with an accep­ tance of the value of sexuality for its own sake. As sociologist Steven Seidman argues, concurrently with the increasing legitimacy of sexual­ ity as a medium for the expression of love, political and medical dis­ courses have disentangled it from the emotions it was supposed to ex­ press and reinforce.18 I submit that this legitimation of sex for its own sake has demystified the cultura l narrative of "love at first sight," pre­ cisely on the ground that it is " j ust" sexual attraction. Whereas in the Romantic tradition sexual a rousa l was sublimated-and therefore made legitimate-into the scenario of "love at first sight," today love at first sight is suspected of being a pretense for what can now be openly ac­ knowledged, namely, sexual desire. Because sex is now an acceptable and necessary component of intimacy, even a form of self-expression, its sublimated expression in the cultural ideal of love at first sight is

1 60

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

paradoxically jeopa rd i zed . This in turn i m p lie s that love and sex can now form the bases for separate and parallel /ife narratives. 19 To the fast and intense narrative of story I, res pondents usu a l l y pre­ fer a s l owe r one where two people should s pe n d time toge th e r, " know each other," and " become friends" be fo re th e y become lovers. These re­ spo ndents therefore viewed story I as " foolish," " risky, " " adventure­ some," "a sort o f a fairy tale , " "cute as a story, but s ill y in real life, " "a s ill y story," "teenage in fa tu a t ion , " "unrealistic," u nrea l, " or "surreal. " Almos t everyone co n s ide red the marriage of the p r otago n ist s as too hasty and " most likely to have problems." The view that to be s ucc es sfu l a re­ lation s h i p should rest on the s ec u re ground of mutual knowledge an d fa m iliarity was almost un a n i mous . There is a long t raditi on , gro u n ded in the various discourses of reli­ g i o n, p hil os ophy, psychotherapy, and folk wisdom, co ndem n i ng the use of intense and immedi ate emotions as a way to gain self-knowledge. 20 The sus p i c ion of inten se emotions seems to be es pe c iall y marked in American c u l tu re, as evinced by my respon dents ' re pea ted claims that one can never trust su ch immediate and irratio n al feelings. Although they did not employ the voca bu la ry of moral ist s, in dismissing sto ry I they in dicated a belief that intense and hasty emotional attachments are un­ reli ab le indicators of future feelings and should t he re fore be controll e d and appropriately m anaged rather than sim ply y ie l de d to. Th i s , it sho u l d be noted, differs from the sensibility of European Romanticism, which asserts that spontaneous and turbulent feelin g s can and must be sus­ taine d and deve l o pe d into a l a rger na rr a ti ve bec a us e th e y o riginate in and affirm the lover 's tot al be in g . As expected, the code of love r epre sented by story I was the m o st commonly understood by resp o n de nt s , but only in the negative: it was also the most delegitirnized by the "commonsense " idea that infatuation is a volatile and unreliable emotion. This i mpli e s that the most widely established and th oro ugh ly codified model of love is not the model con­ sidered most li ke ly to be s ucc es sful . How do my respondents perceive and manage such an incongruity? ••

REALIST LOVE O n the su r face , respondents deal with this question by s u bs t it u ti ng for

the mo de l of intense and irrational love more modest and "re a li sti c " views. Using metaphors such as " partnership, " "hard work," " foun­

d ations , " "building, "

"

gro w th , "

"

wo rking at Jove, " respo ndent s ex-

Real Fictions a nd Fictional Realities

pressed the idea that if a roma ntic relationship is to be "successful, " true love has to evolve with time and increasing mutual knowledge. De­ spite their differences in content and structure, stories 2 and 3 were of­ ten lumped together into the same narrative frame when contrasted with story 1 . Both the other stories were considered slow, "plausible," "com­ fortable," "more about friendship than passion and sex," " nice and healthy, " " practical," "wonderful " and "realistic," a " nice combina­ tion of love and practicality" or of "comfort and passion." The posi­ tive responses to these stories revolve around such notions as, the char­ acters "didn't jump," they " feel very real," " [the relationship] provides a secure future," " st abil ity. " 2 1 The facts that both st o ries unfold and develop over a longer time span (a few months and a few years, re­ spectively) and that the protagonists seem to ground their choice of part­ ner on personality traits cue the reader into a " realist" narrative of love. Realist models of love are system atically opposed to "fantasy-based " ( " H oll yw ood , " " story - like " ) models. They enact the phenomenologi­ cal categories of everyday life experience, as set forth by Alfred Schutz, the central proponent of the "sociology of everyday life. " 22 These cat­ egories include: Common Sense: a type of knowledge invoked in the course of every­ day life.23 The realist model is viewed by respondents themselves as the most " commonsensical" one, as seen in the following example: What do you think of [story I}?

. . . it's sort of a fairy tale, I guess. It's something that I would never do; and it's like, common sense tells me th at you don 't do something like that. You hear t hose th ings and you thi nk , well, that's stupid, that's dumb. (Fe­ male editor, i n te rv ie w 3 ) The perception that the first model i s a fairy tale, while the second ap­ peals to common sense is also articulated by other respondents: Do you think two people?

that

romance is important to keep love going between

No, I re a ll y don't. I th i n k

it

can even get i n the way.

How so? Bec a u se , e spec ially if you're seeing a person

every

day or frequently, you

have to accept at some point that yo u are dealing with a real person which has concerns wh ic h are ver y down-to-earth. And I think you can escape into an unreal w or l d, and it basically means that you are neglecting the se concerns. ( Male Ph.D. student, interview 14)

All That Is Romantic Melts

1 6 1.

IDtu . '

The first model is perceived as unreal because it occurs outside the expe­ rience of everyday life. In contrast, the second exemplifies attributes of "re­ alism" such as " practical," " down-to-earth,'" .. real," "commonsensical." Time: A realistic story is one that unfolds within the phenomenologi­ cal experience of the time of everyday life. The condensed, "packed" time of the narrative model of love at first sight and its attendant dramatized and ritualized character are perceived as "unrealistic " and not charac­ teristic of the " looser," longer., and less dramatic plots of everyday life. Comfortable Relationships: The different temporality of everyday narratives of love points to a particular category of attachment. Instead of viewing love as resulting from an immediate, intense, and organic bond, respondents preferred to view love as evolving from "friendship" and being "comfortable," a relationship with the informal, casual, and unceremonious character of everyday interactions. (If] I ever get ma r ri ed-I am twenty-five yea rs old now-it's no t going to be a [inaudible] e nc o u nter on the train. It is go i ng to be with somebody who I

have gr ow n with as a friend and a confidant and a lover and grown to love as s omeon e I want to spend the rest of my life with . This [ s tory J ] is strictly the story book . (M a le doorman, interview I I )

In the same context, many other respondents noted that feelings of love for their partner evolved from doing "casual " and " informal " things to­ gether ( "cooking together," " hanging out," "waking up together " ) . Taken-for- Grantedness: The expectation that everyday life should " flow " in a continuum of taken-for-granted settings and actions on which there is reliable and tacit agreement underwrites the notion of "compatibility, " central to the realist conception of love. In such a union, partners should see their lives in a similar way so that disagreements can be kept to a minimum. Explaining why story I is not likely to have a successful outcome in the long run, one respondent said: I think they [protagonists of story I] we re wrong in gen i ng m a rried so spontaneously. I think they were dea l i ng with infatuation and not re a l love, and I don't agree. I think they were not spontaneous b ut , uh, when you do so met hi ng on a whi m without thinking . . . love is not enough [of a reason] to get married.

What more

is

required?

You need to be able to get a lo n g with each other. You need to be compat­ ible. You need to, there is a l ot more tha n j ust loving someone. That's why I didn't marry Paula a fter the first week or so. I was feeling madly in love, but with ti me I found o ut the problems of pe rs onality we had. We would

Real Fictions an d Fict i onal R e ali tie s have been irresponsible to get married after the first week. I do believe in love, pe rh a p s infatuation at first sight, in terms of pl annin g on the basis of that I think. ( Ma l e phy sic i an , interview 30 )

In a similar vein, another respondent reached the conclusion that I th i n k marriage is a pretty heavy thing and [ think, well, h ow could you know for sure, for sure, that this is the right person . You co u ld know that you were tremendously attracted to them and that you had every th ing in th e world in com mon with them, but maybe a good marriage has got to, urn, have a few more. Maybe they just didn't describe what else they had in common, 'cause I th i n k that it just see med like there might be, that they fell in love, b ut , I just don't think it's that believable. 'Cause I think that, to get married, you have to, uh, I don 't know, more tha n romantic love.

More than romantic love. What, for example? Ah, well, I guess I'm more practical. I think you have to, urn, know what kind of lifestyle you want and if you have that in common and if yo u' re both nigh t people or morn i ng people or if you both like to eat the sa me things or, uh, if yo u want lots of ch i l dre n or no c h i l dre n , that kind of th in g. (Female artist, i n terv iew 3 5 )

Everyday Life as Work: For the idea that love results from an imme­ diate, effortless, and organic bond, respondents substituted the com­ monsensical notion that " love is work." For example: [If] you 're in a good love rela t io nsh i p , it means that it is alive, that it is c ha n g­ ing. You put energy i nt o it, you put effort into it, you give so meth ing to the other person, and they gi ve s omethi ng to you. It is always work. I don't think that rela tion s h ip s ever sit idle. Well, if you a re people for whom romantic things occur, it's gonna occur. I don't think you can seek it out. I don't t hi n k it ma kes sense. (Female art i st, interview 3 3 )

The idea of " love as work" generalizes the experience that everyday life is managed through delayed gratification rather than through play and instant pleasure. Furthermore, the metaphor reflects the pragmatic ori­ entation of everyday life, geared toward "making things work " and "getting things done " rather than toward contemplation or aesthetic experience. Long-term relationships, lived a nd shared dai l y, embody all five characteristics of everyday life, and these characteristics are the context for such phrases as "realistic" and "down-to-earth" used by respon­ dents. In everyday life, as set forth by Schutz, there is no place for in­ tense, extreme emotions. Thus, stories 1 and 3 were seen as " realistic" beca use they were grounded in the everyday, while story I was seen as

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

unrealistic. The realm opposed to everyday life was associated with fan­ tasy and mass media representations. The answers [ received when [ turned from questions such as "What do you think of this story" to "Which story do you like best, and why ?" require the findings presented above to be seriously qualified. Thus, al­ though most respondents initially rejected story I , when they were asked to compare it with the other stories, they viewed it as the most "interesting," "original," and " fascinating" of the three. Even though they had earlier viewed it as a "typical story-book romance," respon­ dents acknowledged that it stimulated their imagination more than the other two. The same respondents who evaluated story I as "stereo­ typica l " and "unreal" also viewed it as the "true romantic ( story]," " the most passionate" and "fun," "the most interesting" and "un­ conventional," "[having] spice and adventure, " "a wonderful ro­ mance," a nd "spontaneous . " The characters were viewed as "en­ chanted, " "enthralled," a nd " totally sponta neous. " I n the words of one respondent, the story is " magical" and "pure fantasy. " All these evaluations underscore the same idea : that the story embodies intense, spontaneous, and exceptional feelings, typical of the genuine roman­ tic sentiment. Because this story does not specify the nature and qual­ ity of the protagonists' feelings for each other, respondents must infer romance only from the suddenness or intensity or seeming irrational­ ity of those feelings. Thus, even though almost all respondents disap­ prove of the haste with which this marriage occurs, they still consider it an example par excellence of romanticism in its affirmation of pure passion. This evaluation of story I was expressed by the same respondents who had earlier dismissed it. Respondents thus rejected and praised the same story, depending on the question asked and the context. Story 2, which was often interpreted positively at the beginning of the interview, was later rejected as "an arranged marriage," a " business-like deal, " "cold, dry and clinical," "conformist, " a " calculated decision," and " unro­ mantic." That is, when evaluated in the semantic context of romance, story 2 was viewed as unappealing and old-fashioned . Similarly, story 3 was deemed to be too "rational," "cold" and "calculating, " "the dullest possible relationship," "structured," "mapped out," "mechanical," "typically yuppie," "carefully planned," having "no warmth," "too slow-moving, " and "unromantic. " The protagonists of story 3 were viewed as looking for stability and security at the price, as one respon­ dent put it, of "sacrificing something important: enchantment. " Thus,

Real Fictions and Fictional Realities

while these two stories satisfy criteria of real is m and compatibility, they lack the romantic qualities found in story I . The simultaneous affirmation of both models can be seen clearly with the following res p onde nt, a w or k ing-class man, fifty-five-years old, with­ out a hi gh- school education. Earlier in the interview, this man had dis­ missed story I as a simple infatuation and had called the other two sto­ ries more "real ." Later in the interview, howe ver : Which

one

of the three stories is the closest to your

ideal of romantic

love?

I don't know. If you talk love, I guess the first one, because the}' never re ­

ally thought about someth ing else, they didn't have time to think about anything e l se , it's just . . . I guess they j ust fell in l o ve and th e y got ma r ri ed . Which story is the

furthest from

your

ideal?

[Long pa use . ] I don't want to contradict

myse lf now.

You can say whatever you want.

But I thi nk I

w a nt to contradict myself.

That means

you

want to say story

I?

You s ee , it's hard. I don't really know whether this was love or n ot . To me

a s if it was j u st -the y were just attracted to each other, right away. I don't k now, I guess st ory 2. wo uld be probably the fu rthest . That's my opi ni on . (Male cleaning man, i nte rvi ew 40)

this strikes me

When asked to choose the story closest to his i deal, he was faced with the contradiction inherent in simultaneously p r ofessing two incompat­ ible narratives of love. This man's hesitations and self-conscious remarks point to his awareness of and discomfort with his inconsistency. Hence, in their evaluation of the three stories, res pondents al ternatel y embraced both n arrati ve frames, the idealist and the realist, at different points of the inte rv iew. The narrative frame elicited by story I ser v ed as the normative ground against which the other two stories we re com p ared and contrasted, and vice-versa, as we see in the fol lowing exam p les. One female interviewee read story I and immed i ately responded "That's ridiculous. This story is unreal." She also responded immedi­ ately to story 2. by sayi ng : "It's a nice story . . . I wish it would happen to me. " Later in the interview, when asked which story she liked best, th is respondent answered without hesitation " story I," declaring that "story 2. made her mad" because it reminded her of her mother trying to fix her up with men she did not want to date. After reading s tory I , a male respondent said, " It [is] not romantic because it is too impulsive "

All That Is Romantic Melts into A ir

1 66

and represents " simple sexual desire." Later in the interview, when asked which was his favorite story and the on e that came closest to his ideal of love, he chose story I on t h e grounds that it w as the m ost romantic and spontane o us. Another man respon ded tha t , a lt hou gh the relation­ ships i n s to rie s 2. or 3 are more li kely to last, he preferred story I because on e should "take a sh ot , take a risk, be spontaneous . " The s am e inter­ v iewee fu rt her suggested that even though the relat i o nships i n s to rie s 2 a n d 3 were the most likely to last, they were also the most bo ri ng. Both the romantic and the realist n a r r a t ive f r am es were held as id eal by the same people, who invoke them for d ifferen t reasons at different poi nts of t he interview to evaluate either the stories' romamicism or the couples' chance of marital su cce ss .

R E A L ITY A S F I C T I O N How d o these na r ra t i ve frames and their i nterpretations tr a n slate into respondents ' autobiographical accounts of the i r own love stor ies ? Ac­ co rd ing to which model do people " a uthor" their own love sto r i es ? De­ spite respo nd e nts ' insistence that the realist model is the mo st likely to be s ucces sfu l , their most " me mo ra b le " love stories are structured ac­ co rding to narratives of love at fir st sight. When asked to remember their ow n " m ost mem o ra b le l ove s to ries , " re spon de nts always n arrated real-life stories that c o rres p o n ded to the first narrative model. The fantasy-based m ode l of love is c o gn iti v e Iy and emotionally mo re salient than the rea l ist one.24 Consider the following ex am pl e of a man who dec la r e d earlier in the intenriew that he found story I the least appealing. When he recounted his encounter with the woman he was i n v o lved with at the time of the interview, he re s pon de d as follows: The most romantic moment that I can remember q u i te well was the first tim e that I met my former to present girlfriend, January 3 1 St of last year, and I had been inv i te d to a Super Bowl party and s h e had been invited to the same party by m u t ua l friends. And it was the kind of th i ng that we l o o ke d at each other and we first saw each oth e r, it's like i n the movies, you know, where the whole rest of the world, everybody else, fades into obliv ion a n d it's just you and her. That's how it was like. We just knew right a wa y that we were struc k by this wh i rl wi n d of emotion, and we went to the fire escape away from the party. We talked and hugged , we left th e party early. We went out to a place to eat, and we found ou rse l ves h ugging e ac h other in the restau­ ram, because of this newfound a tt rac t io n , c hemistry, love w h ich had wh irl-

Real Fictions and Fictional Rea l iti e s wind. And she asked me to d rop her off, and it wasn't even a q u es tio n of "Am I go i ng to ta k e your num be r," because we knew that there was this tremendous love that we had for each other. And that to me is t he most ro­ mantic exper ie nce I can reme m b e r. It wa s n 't planned or anyth ing , there was this tremendous tremendous love at first sigh t which s ub se q ue n tly was prob­ lematic. ( Male p hy sic ian, interview 8)

The stereotypical character of this account is so marked that the re­ spondent himself self-consciously admits it was "j ust like in the movies" and invokes such cliches of love at first sight as the world fading into oblivion . Moreover, although the relationship subse­ quentl y turned " sour, " the story recounted is cut off from the present and is narratively self-contained. That is. it does not offer a diachronic con tin uity between the first meeting and its disillusioning develop­ ment but rehearses only the synchronic vividness and intensity of the initial encounter. Another response, from a married woman, further illustrates how the model of love at first sight suffuses respondents' memories. She tells two most memorable stories. In the first, she fell in love with a man who was sitting near her on a plane. Here is her second story: At the concert [in a city she had just moved to) I sat near a man who-I just liked his ene rgy and eve ry time I l oo ked at him, he kind of made me feel exc i ted , and he would look at me a nd smile and I would smile back and-I remember, I was having a pa r tic u l a r ly good time. I g ot up and da nce d with my friend Nancy and I kept thinking, Should I go over and talk ro him? I did n 't . As we were leaving, he gave me his card and sa i d , you know, I c a n't even remember if he said an yth i ng. And I cal l e d him up a few da y s later and we t a l ked . I we nt over to h i s apartment and I was tremen­ dously attracted to him. Did you have a

relationship ?

Yeah, all summer l ong . . . . It was a wond e rful romance . . . it was v ery e x ­ citing. It was in a p l ace that I never lived in before. I d idn't know a nyo ne , that k i n d of thing. So it was a real adv ent u re and I was k in d of th ril l ed by the whole th i n g, and I was ve ry excited. (Female artist, interview 3 5 )

Although this woman is married, she did not choose her encounter with her husband as her most memorable love story. Like the previous respondent's, this story bears the characteristics of the adventurous model of love at first sight. It occurred in an u n familiar environment un­ der the "extraordinary circumstances" of a long summer vacation. The attraction was immediate, and the relationship began in excitement and

All That Is Romantic M elts into Air

168 wo r d l e s s

co mm u n ication , thro u gh looks and smiles. Conve rse ly, when she described her re lationshi p with her husband-which she did n ot cite even as her second most memorable story-she described a slow and progre s siv e r ela t ionship that was neither intense nor engrossing. Similarly, a male orchestra conductor gave as his most memorable story a one-evening encounter with a woman he did not even have sex with. D o you feel that you have had a love story that has corresponded to your ideal of love ?

The woman I spent that one e ve n in g with after the concert. The el'ening,

except for the fact we ha d n 't had sex, tha t evening was pretty much what I always dreamt. (Male musician, interview 3 3 )

For this respondent, this episode was more romantic than anything in three long-lasting relationships he had had, which had been se rio us enough for him to live with the wo m en involved. Here again, the story shares its structure with the idealist model of love at first sigh t . It is contained within a neatly self-contained temporal unit, a single evening, and fulfilled all his "dreams," and this de spite the fact th at the wo man 's departure was the obstacle that prevented them from con su mm at i n g th e relat ionship . Fi n ally, here are the stories of a twenty-eight-year-old female avant­ ga rde filmmaker and a married cle a ni ng man, respectively:

The most mem o rable [ s tory) is w h en I was 1 8 1 met a man who was 3 5 and who was incredibly. . . . I met this guy who was a musician. I was selling fr u its and nuts on the stre et at t hat time. He came by the car a couple of times and asked me out on a da te and I had never . . . the idea that some­ bo dy like him could find me attractive made me feel very sophisticated and . .

.

. I had this very intense a ffa ir with

him for a couple of weeks, and

then I ended it."

Again, a relationship that lasted "a couple of weeks" made a more memo­ rable story th an that of her five-year relationshi p with another man. I co u ld tell you [the story), but I don't know if I could tell you or not. It's totally up to you. It does not i nv o lv e my wife. This h a ppen ed years ago. You say no one will see this?

If someone does, it will be without mention of your name or even of the place where I in terviewed you.

Real Fictions and Fictiona l Realit i e s

I tended bar years ago, and a nice French girl, I spent, uh, I d o n t know how to describe, uh, it was a passi onate woman, it's all I could say, it was a very nice experience beca use it was a ve ry roman ti c winter and we really d id a lot of fun t h ings toget h e r, I don't know how to put it i nt o words, but it was a very very nice thi n g '

.

Like the previous stories, these two accounts contain the emotional in­ tensity and swift pace of the idealist narrative and take pl ace in what is recalled as "e xt ra ordinary or " unusual " circumstances (adultery in the latter case; sexual initiation by a much older man in the former). As we see from these accounts, the romantic self autho rs its most memorable romantic experiences by mimicking the intensely ritualized temporal s tr u ct ure of mass media love stories. The self-contained and tightly knit structure of these adventures is mo re aesthetic, in Georg S i m mel's sense of the word, than the shapeless, unstylized, and open en ded flow of romantic re l ation s h i ps in every d ay l i fe.2j All the experiences of my respon dents had a clear beginning and a tight dramatic structure. Events happen quickly and have a st rong emotional e ffect on the pro­ tagonists. All stories have obstacles which prevent the protagonists from carrying on the love story into ma rriage or a long-lasting bond. Finally, t hey differ from the ongoing and fuzzier plots of everyday life in com­ ing to a sharply marked end: almost all these memorable love stories have a strong narrative c1o s ure. 26 Onl y three out of the fifty interviewees cited a relationship that was under way at the time of the interview as their most memorably romantic; all the others h ad been brought to a clear closure. These aestheticized autobiographical accounts seem to be pure signs, the imitations of fictional codes without underlying referents, and it is tempting to see them as quintesse ntially postmodern. For, as a regime of representation, pos tmo dernism is characterized by i ts claim that life is a text, a code with no real referent. Such a conclusion would not be ju stified, however. M or a li s ts and scholars of all persuasions were cla im ing long before the pos t m odern era that the codes of love prevail over their " real referent. " Even as circumspect a historian as Lawrence Stone expresses the opinio n that romantic love " i s a product . of learned cul­ tural expectations, which became fashionable in the late eighteenth cen­ tury thanks l argely to the spread of novel-reading . . . . [The romantic novel] of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centu ries has much to answer for in the way of d i sa stro u s love a ffairs and of imprudent and unhappy marriages."27 T h e system theorist Niklas Luhmann, who has "

"

"

­

-

­

_

.

1 70

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

argued at length that romantic love is less a sentiment than a "symbolic code, has remarked of the eighteenth century that " English women who try to emulate characters in pre-Victorian novels have to wait for visible signs of nuptial love before allowing themselves to discover consciously what love is. " 2 8 W hile these scholars share the postmodern assumption that romantic love is a cultural form with no independent referent, they also believe that the romantic code has been responsible for romantic emotions for quite some time. But ultimately this new view of history, finding postmodern love in "modern" or premodern moral discourse, does not resolve the question of whether romantic fiction has or has not replaced our actual "experi­ ence. " These autobiographical stories cannot be simply reduced to a copy or simulacrum of their fictional "code . " The influence is mutual; as psychologist Jerome Bruner aptly puts it, "narrative imitates life, life imitates narrative ." 2 9 This intrinsically blurred and fuzzy boundary be­ tween life and texes must be addressed and recast by a post modern the­ ory of love. F I CT I O N AS R EA L I TY

To clarify how life and narrative imitate each other, let us further clar­ ify categories of experience, to understand which category i s more. likely to lend itself to fictional representation. [n their seminal work in phe­ nomenological anthropology, Lyman and Scott distinguish two types of experience that parallel the rea list and idealist romantic narrative frames: the " ordinary" and the "extraordinary. " " Adventure " is a particular type of experience that is isolated from the flow of daily e\'ents precisely because of its highly dramatic and tightly knit narrative structure. "Ad­ ventures start a nd end with stacatto notes. In contrast, routine life moves from episode to episode as in a symphony, each one marked by the end­ ing of one melodious strain and the beginning of another. Routine life falls into a context of continuities; adventures are cut off from the en­ tanglements of and connections to everyday life . "30 [nterestingly enough, these authors use "romantic affairs " as the paramount example of the social experience of ·' adventure." As they explain, " (Sex] is always po­ tentially adventurous because it uniquely combines physiological stimu­ lation with social risks and psychological thrills. " 3 1 A compact and self­ contai ned narrative structure such as that of story I can more easily make sense of sexual attraction because sex is physiologically climactic and stands outside the stream of ordinary life. Love a ffairs, potential or ac-

Real Fictions and Fictional Realities

171

tualized, are physiologically, e mot io n a l ly, and cognitively salient. By con­ trast, long -term relation s hips are less salient because the "dramas [of ev er y da y li fe] re s i d e preci sel y in their dullness. They do not stim u late the i m agination. " 32 From another theoretical tradition, economist Tibor Sc itov s k y dis­ tinguishes categories that also parallel reali stic and idealist frameworks, what he calls the drive to comfort and the drive to excitation. The la tter i s el ic i ted when one ex p erien ce s something new; comfort is attained when an initial level of arousal is reduce d , for exa m ple, by s tretching ex­ citation over a " longue" or " moyenne d ure e . " 33 Thus, the n a rrative models of stories 2 and 3 would reflect the drive toward comfort; story I the dri v e to e xc itatio n . In fact, " c omfort " is the word used most fre­ q u en tl y in p ositi v e evaluations of s tori e s 2. a nd 3, and " exciting" and " adventure" are cited in descriptions of stor y I . Thus the di c hotom y between the idealist-fictional and realist- everyday narrative frames of l ove cannot be adequately reduced to simple opposi­ tions betw een "texts" and " reality" or " representation " and " referent." Th e re is thus a kind of "I1t" between the narrative frameworks and dif­ ferent categories of physical and phenomenological experience: the "ide­ alist " story is p ropelled by the drive to e xcita t io n and enacts th e highl y aes­ theticized propenies of "adventure," while the " realist" narrative is driven toward comfort and the shapeless but reliable flow of everyday l i fe. These two nar r ativ e romantic codes are embedded in the distinction between the uneventful, ro u tine character of ev er yday life and the upsurges of emotion that p eri odically erupt in the realm ofthe everyday and make for "drama." M y res ponde nts ' highly aestheticized a u tobiographic al accounts o f ro­ mantic passion are thus anc h ored in bod ily experiences of excitation and in a universal distinction between rou t in e and d rama. This gives a new twist to our u n de r s ta n ding of the po s tmode r n condition of romance, one that includes the paramo u n t reality of bodi ly experiences. As Feather­ stone suggests, certain forms of experience embedded in the bo dy are " p rog ressively submitted to the codification of cultural p roducer s . " 34

These codes in turn feed back into everyday life and provide stylized nar­ ratives within which one makes sense of his or her experience. Now, if the romantic experience is organi zed aro un d two poles that are phenomenological and ph y sio l ogical as well as narrative, what dif­ ference does it ma k e that one type rather than the othe r is end l ess ly rep­ resented and codified in the highl y visual and realistic narrative codes of media c ul ture and enters the realm of everyday life via the consumption of mass media forms? Following Simmel, Featherstone contends that

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All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

highly stylized narratives ( such as my respondents' autobiographical ac­ counts) can provide a way to overcome the heterogeneity of everyday life by supplying it with an a rt-like unity and coherence.J5 However, I would argue that these aestheticized narratives of love do not unify the roman­ tic self with a " heroic " telos but rather split it into incompatible narra­ tives, making it the site of the very contradictions of late capitalism that Featherstone thinks these codes overcome. Moreover, far from being viewed as a desirable or " heroic " life narrative, the romantic ideal was treated by my respondents with suspicion, derision, and ironic distance. A P O S T M O D E R N R O M ANT I C C O N D I T I O N

In an analysis o f consumer dissatisfaction, Scitovsky suggests that too high a level of arousal leads to discomfort, but too Iow a level results in boredom. "Pleasure " is the experience of a change from either too much or too little arousal back to a level of optimal comfort.16 Extending Sci­ tovsky's argument, Albert O. Hirschman suggests that there is "a con­ tradiction between pleasure and comfort: for pleasure to be experienced, comfon must be sacrificed temporarily. " 37 In our context, this means that to be pleasurable, that is, "exciting," relationsh ips must sacrifice com­ fort-at least periodically. But it implies also that exciting relationships are "doomed" to end in comfort and, if we are to believe Scitovsky, even­ tually in boredom. Accordingly, the stories presented to my interviewees tap into different and ultimately incompatible psychological drives. The most salient memories are those associated with high levels of arousal , and i t is these that the romantic self recalls a s "exciting." But i n evalu­ ating the chances of success of a relationship, the romantic self opts for pragmatic narratives of longevity a nd stability, in short, for "comfort." The splitting of the romantic self inro conflicting narrative structures en­ tails the experience of a psychological contradiction.J8 I would like now to argue that this psychological contradiction feeds into and is sustained by a broader cultural contradiction characteristic of consumer culture. Most traditional societies privilege comfort and carefully attempt to control (or suppress) the expression of the drive to excitation exempli­ fied in sexual attraction.39 The cultural ideal of romantic love has given a greater legitimacy to the intensity of passion and sexual attraction. It restricts the possible number of partners by emphasizing the uniqueness of the beloved and subsuming the romantic biography under a single, lifelong narrative ( " Ie grand amour" ) . But this narrative of love almost never becomes a narrative of comfort. Since it must affirm the supremacy

Real Fictions and Fictional Realities

1 73

of passion, it is usually doomed to end with the parting or death of the lovers .4o Postmodern culture has seen the collapse of overarching, life­ long romantic narratives, which it has compressed into the briefer and repeatable form of the affair. The cultural prominence of the romantic affair is related to the trans­ formations undergone by sexuality after World War II. During this pe­ riod, sex for its own sake has been progressively legitimized and even promoted by the political discourses of feminist and gay liberation, a process that was aided by the powerful cultural idioms of the sphere of consumption.41 In its intrinsic transience and affirmation of pleasure , novelty, and excitement, the affair is a quintessential postmodern expe­ rience and contains a " structure of feeling" with affinities ( in Max Weber's sense of the word) to the emotions and cultural values fostered by the sphere of consumption.42 As Scitovsky argues, consumption rests on the drive toward excitation because the purchase and experience of new commodities are a source of pleasure, and the affair, with all the excitement of a new lover, feeds this drive as well. "Novelty is a major source of satisfaction, to judge by the large quantity we avidly consume every day and the high value we place on it. First love, first taste of some special food, or a naked body, together with many fir s ts , are among our most cherished memories. "43 Moreover, the affair is undergirt by a consumerist definition of identity as a series of lifestyle choices. During the Victorian era, people chose from a very nar­ row pool of available partners and often felt compelled to marry their first suitor. The contemporary affair, by contrast, presupposes variety and free­ dom to choose. This "shop-and-choose" outlook is the effect not only of a much wider pool of available partners but also of the pervasion of ro­ mantic practices by a consumerist mentality: the belief that one should com­ mit oneself only after a long process of information gathering.44 The con­ sumerist motive of " freedom of choice" among transient b ut renewable pleasures has radically altered the premodern romantic narrative structure. The traditional Romantic narrative of " Ie grand amour" was a double narrative, not only of revelation (a sudden, unforeseen convic­ tion of the unique desirability of another person ) but of a kind of secu­ lar salvation: from "love at first sight, " lovers projected themselves whole into a future that could redeem their entire existence, e v en tho ugh they might die of it. Thus Emma Bovary clings to the idea that her rela­ tionship with Rodolphe is no mere " affair" but rather the prelude to the "great" narrative she strives for and waits for. In this respect, Emma stands on the threshold between the (modern) Romantic sensibility in

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which lives are spent waiting for-or consuming themselves in-a life­ long " master" narrative of love and the postmodern one in which sev­ eral affairs-self-contained and "local" narratives of love-oc cur seri­ ally in the course of a life. The affair can be viewed as a postmodern expression of what Fredric Jameson calls intensities. In contrast to the premodern era, romantic intensities have eliminated the experience of "waiting, " which was so central in Victorian women's lives, and are char­ acterized by a total a bsence of the tragic. Tragedy is the inscription within a narrative structure of cosmic, ineluctable forces that rule over and ruin individuals lives. By their involvement, however, these forces raise those lives beyond the level of the merely individual, the subjective, the hap­ hazard, giving human lives the weight of "destiny. " In the equanimity with which they recount falling in and out of love, the respondents' au­ tobiographical accounts bear a decisively untragic " lightness. " Nowhere could I find the poignancy and existential gravity of the Romantic idea of the "great love," because respondents-both men and women----d o not project their selves into an all-encompassing narrative of love initi­ ated by the revelation of a unique and eternal love. Their stories start in a mode of " excitation" rather than " revelation_" They have a sharply marked beginning and end-which is why they deserve the name of " story"-but l ittle intermediate narrative development, the frequent presence of an obstacle that might have driven such development (e.g., being a lready married, living in different p laces). Affairs, then, are self­ contained narrative episodes disconnected from one another in the flow of experience, resulting in a fragmenting of the experience of love into separate emotional units (the transitory settings of so many of these sto­ ries exhibit a corresponding spatial fragmentation). Romantic intensi­ ties similarly fragment time into what Jameson calls " charges of affect" and thus contribute to the "flat" present deemed characteristic of the postmodern contraction of time: temporality loses the unifying conti­ nuity of a life characterized by either a stable, enduring relationship or a grand (or grandiose ) passion.4s While human beings have doubtless always had sex before or outside marriage, the "affairs" we have been looking at are peculiarly post­ modern in a number of respects. First, they share with the romantic travel analyzed in the last chapter a central feature of postmodernism, namely, the institutionalization of Iiminality inside the market.46 This form of liminality provides postmodernity a defining rhetorical figure-the in­ version of normative hierarchies-and symbolic form-the reversal of identities and blurring of boundaries, social, aesthetic, and cultural . AI-

Real

Fictions

and

Fictional Realities

17 5

most all th e affairs reco u nted above took place on g e ogra phi c , institu­ tional, and temporal margins, away from the routine space of home and work, outside the fr ame work of family, marriage, job, in the exc e ptio n al time marked by romantic intensities and the merging of selves. Second, the sexual flavor of "li b eration " since the 1 9 605 makes the postm odern "affair" significantly different from the i n disc rimina t e and power-ridden search for sexual p leasure embodied by the archetypica l characters of Don Juan or Casanova. Contemporary affairs are more l ikely to be li ve d as sexual p le asure by both sexes. Third, they do not contain any element of transgression and do not oppose a n y normative or mora l imperative. Instead, they affirm the diffuse eq u a litarian eroti­ cism and p rimal liberation of the instincts t hat, a cc o rdi ng to Danie l Bell, has marked the pos tmodern ons l a u ght on m id d le -c lass values.47 Finally, u nde r lying th e postmodern affair is a definition of id entity based on l ife sty le choices and cons u me r rationality. Although as yet there is little e m pi r ical data on this matter, I s u bmit that the " affair" characterizes the romantic experience of those p rofessiona l s and new cultural inter­ mediaries , located in large urban centers, who are most proficient at switching between sexual p leas u re and forms of eco n omic rationa l ity. One might even ve nt u re to suggest that the "commitment p h obia " so remarked on in this po pu l ation is a by-product of an ide nt ity largely based on the affirmation of autonomy through lifestyle choices, result­ i ng in a reluctance to gi ve up the freedom to choose and the prospect of "finding a better mate. " Postmodern mass culture privileges the c on sum ption of l eis u re as a rit­ ual of liminali ty and e xpendit u re , a withdrawal from everyday life with the pu r pose of regenerating one's connection to society through the l ib ­ eration of energy and the reversal of cu stoma ry constraints in an intense, euphoric, and tra n si e nt experience of n o v elty. As we have seen, "extra­ ordi n a ry " experiences are, by their nature, more susceptible to ritualiza­ tion than the e xperiences of everyday life. The meanings of everyday life are l ess for m a l i z e d , pa l er and fuzzier, and therefore emotionall y less in­ tense than the meanings contained not only in "adventures" and "affairs" but in leisure in gene ral . The narrative within which memories are organized and the one within whi c h the romantic self proje c ts its chances for s ucce ss do not match each other and may even contradict each other, th us th wa rti ng the possi bilit}· of a c ontin u o u s temporal structure containing a homo­ geneous self. The contemporary roma ntic self is marked by its persistent, sysiphian attem pt to conjure up the loca l and fleeting int e nsi ty of the

All That Is Romantic

Melts into Air

love affair within long-term global narratives of love (such as marriage), to reconcile an overarching narrative of enduring love with the fragmentary intensity of affairs. This splitting of the romantic self into incompatible narrative structures, the patching of self-contained, dis­ continous affairs into narratives of lifelong love, breaks the coherent, " heroic" self of modernity into a "collage" of conflicting narrative selves.48 We now turn to the crisis of representation that accompanies this unhappy postmodern romantic self. Approached as fiction, stories 2. and 3 are readily interpreted as ex­ pressions of "realistic" love and used as a narrative frame within which respondents project a desirable, lifelong love story. In respondents' own autobiographies, however, similar stories are interpreted according to a standard set by the affair and are consequently suspected of not refer­ ring to the actual feeling of love. In other words, when experienced, the realist narrative frame seems to empty itself of its signified, or at least to struggle to find one . By contrast, when the first narrative frame is pre­ sented as a fictional story, it is viewed as "fabricated " and " unreal, " but when experienced it is no longer viewed as an empty signifier but rather as the "real referent" lived to its fullest meaning. For example, when asked to choose the most romantic story, one man chose (the realist) story 2, but when he recalled and explained what had gone wrong in his own most recent relationship, he said: The l a s t [relationship), we understood each other a nd we got a l o ng so well, but there was almost a spark mi s s i n g .

What

do you m ean?

We were very compa tible. We loved being together on a day-to-day basis. We g o t along very wel l . But the more romantic, ideal side really never, uh, so I missed that.

What do you mean when ),ou say that

the romantic side was missing?

I fel t almost as if I was goi ng to bed with my best friend instead of with a lover. (Male orchestra conductor, interview 3 3 )

Clearly, this story has the " fuzzy" character of the plots of every­ day life and refers to the notion that compatibility is necessary if a re­ lationship is to succeed. However, although this narrative model is nor­ matively viewed as an ideal one, it is experienced as problematic in its lack of intensity and passion. This in turn prevents it from being in­ corporated into the romantic self as readily as the first model of love. In a similar vein:

Real Fictions and Fictional Rea lities In

1 77

which of the marriages is it likely that th ere will be proble ms?

Number one.

Why? 'Cause that's me and that's why we had all the problems.

What were the problems? The problem was, the romance ended .

So, what remained? What remained? Another friend.

Why did the romance end? Because we did not follow stories terview 2.1)

:z.

and

3 . (Male private investigator, in­

This response exemplifies the crisis of representation contained within the contradictions observed above : this man had chosen story I as his favorite story, but its story structure became problematic in real life be­ cause it "did not follow" the careful path laid out in stories 2 and 3 . Con­ versely, when this respondent's actual love stories did fit stories 2 and 3 , he ceased to identify them a s " romantic." As h e said, his relationship stopped because the " romance ended ." Not only does the model of love considered most likely to succeed diverge from the one experienced as most " striking," "interesting, " or " memorable, " but the realist model of success is evaluated against the background of the love-at-first-sight model, which renders it even more lacking in intensity and romance. While the first narrative frame of intensity signifies " romance" with­ out including the signified love, the second narrative frame, by contrast, offers this signified without the romantic signifier. This disjunction be­ tween the signifier of romance and the signified of love is one of the char­ acteristic features of the "postmodern condition. " In this disj unction ap­ pears a split autobiographical narrative structure: while the narrative signifier that best organizes respondents' most memorable stories em­ bodies Jameson's "romantic intensities," this s ignifier is disconnected from the less-memorable but longer-lasting narrative that, respondents presume, captures the signified, love. Even more interesting is the way in which respondents accounted for this discrepancy. Far from being viewed as an existential dilemma or a tragedy of human existence, these semiotic quandaries were analyzed and explained as the by-product of mass-media culture. For exa mple:

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

Where do you think your ideas about love come from? I think a lot of them come from the mov ies and they are, I think, I think the movies have fucked us up a great deal in terms of our images about love.

Fucked us up? Yeah, I think that like the first story would be more like i n the movies. They meet in the train and fall in love instantly, and they ran off and they get married, and we are supposed to believe that that's possible. And I don't think that it happens that way very often. So in that sense I think a lor of us spend our lives on trains hoping to fa ll in love. Sitting across the subway maybe I will meet my wife. It doesn't work that way. But there is still this expectation from the movies. (Male actor, interview 19 )

Or:

Where do you think your ideas about love come from? A la rge part, I guess, from media and from myths about love.

Which myths? Oh, the myth about happily ever after and the myth of being swept off your feet, the myth, you know, I think the most dangerous myth for women, finding a man or being attached to a man somehow is, is so ter­ ribly important in order to make your life all right or something. I think those are very powerful for most people whether they think about it or even know it. I think those are probably the most powerful things, and I'm sure for me too even though I have thought about it a lot. Some of my ideas are from not wanting what my parents had and I guess mostly j ust from those images that you see in the media and that you see your friends all trying to live up to, probably the most influential things. ( Female editor, interview 4 8 ).

Respondents self-consciously used stereotypical expressions ( " love conquers all," "the princess being rescued, " " a man for every woman" ) to describe early expectations that they suspect were formed by media stories and images. Like postmodern artists and sociologists, the re­ spondents maintain the ironic stance that their representations and ex­ periences are "simulacra," imitations of manufactured signs devoid of referents. The romantic self perceives itself ironically, like a pre-scripted actor who repeats the words and gestures of other pre·scripted actors, simply repeating repetitions. We have now come full circl e: the same narrative structure that re­ spondents view as " Hollywoodian," " unreal," and " fabricated" is also the same one that respondents unproblematically use to name their ro-

1 79

Real Fictions and Fictional Realities

mantic love stories. On t h e other hand, t he narrative viewed as authen­ tica l ly re flect in g the re al feel in gs of love is also the one res pon dents h ave more difficulties seeing as unproblematically re fe rrin g t o l ov e. If, as Reinha rt Ko se llec k a rgues, m ode rn ity is cha racter ized by the in­ creasing d ista nce be tween rea lity a n d asp i rati on, po stmo d er n ity is best typified by the self-conscious creed that this distance results from imag­ inations overe xpo sed to the overcodified cul ture of the mass media.49 It is not pure cha nce that Umberto Eco chose love to d efine the postmo d­ ern: "I think of the po st - m ode rn attitude as tha t of a man who loves a very cultivated woman and knows he cannot say to he r, 'I love y ou ma dly,' because he k no ws that she k nows (and she knows that he knows ) that these words have al ready been wr itte n by Barba ra Cartland. [He] loves her i n an age of a lost in n ocence . " 5o In other words, the postmo d­ ern romantic condition is characterized by the ironic perceptio n that on e can only repeat what has a l rea dy been said and that one can only act as an actor in an anon ymou s and stereotypical play. Even Ho ll ywoo d can no l o nge r dis pense unself-conscious formulas for romantic plots and is self-reflexively aware of the cliches of the genre.51 A final r o m an tic memory provides an a pt reca pit ul a t io n of these themes. What do )'ou think of (story 2)?

It's a lso romantic.

Romantic. ] suppose it's not romantic in the classical sense. It's nice. It feels good. I

mean it's nice. What we discussed earlier vis-a -vis whether it's better to start off quickly or, the first one is obviously love at first sight kind of, whereas the second is more d eveloping, two people who are com fortable and share certa i n qualities or interests or desires and love develops. Do you think

that Robert and Theresa marry for love?

I think the long-term possibility, prospect of having a long-term, loving, strong relationship, if they are not in love yet.

Would you have liked to

have met

the partner of your life in th e same way?

[Long silence. ) I guess it wouldn't be my first choice, but it would certainly be a reasona ble [one]. Why n o t your �rst choice?

Wel l , i t lacks the excitement or the strong attraction that i s most desirable thing to have, the sort of excited attraction and the strong feeli ngs, and it

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

1 80

does give, the story does give a sense that everyone i s just kind of as i f you choose a car. So is it nice

or not

nice?

You started by saying the story was nice.

Well, if it had more of a sense, the story is a little vague in terms of whether in fact they do de ve lop any kindWhat is you impression? The story is vague on purpose how you

interpret it.

so

that J can see

lt wouldn't be my first choice . . . maybe it's what I think I should want and m aybe it would be more practical . . . The truth of the matter is that on e of the reasons I didn't get married some years ago when I was engaged was it was mo re of story 2. kind of situation and with out real passion and excire­ meO[ attached to it and I ultimately decided to break it. And in some way I did wrong. In what way

was

it wrong?

Because I think in the long·term it would have been a healthy and via ble and loving relationship. Maybe there was a little less excitement than one is promised by reading novels and watching what happens between Cary Grant and Gina Lollobrigida, sometimes have to sit in the living room and, ten years later, just read a book. It's part of life. (Male physician, interview 3 8 )

This re s p o nde nt was aware t h a t h e held co n fl ictin g representations . He also illustrates ho w the sa me narrative frame is interpreted djffer­ ently when used as a memory structure and as a projective structure. When it structures his memory, s t o ry 2 is clearly n ot very exciting, but when pr oj ec t e d into the future it is a des ir ab l e go al ( " i n the l o ng run it would have been a healthy story " ) . Moreover, this man also held media ( specifically cinematic) representations responsible for in st ill­ ing in him what he perceived to be "unrealistic," " fabricated," and in­ compatible m od e l s . The romantic self is the site of deep con trad i c ­ tions that are n ot easily overcome even after one has c o m m i tted to l i v i n g one na rrative. The difficulty in choosing one narrative is accentuated by the perception that the romantic se l f is the result of textual determinations, " fabricated. " The romantic self perceives i tself i n the h a l o of an ironic semiotic suspicion. As Jean B au d r i lla r d has argued, in the post m od ern era, the " masses " ( as he m yst e ri ou s l y calls them) know th e ir own lives are " simulations, " rep eti tio n s of authorless signs empty of a ny real referent.52 Thus p ost m od e r n love b r i n g s a crucial twist to La R oche fou c au l d 's saying that " few people wo u l d fall in lo ve had they not heard about i t . " In the postmodern condition, many people

Real Fict io n s and Fictional Realities

181

doubt they are i n love precisely because they have heard too much about it.53 C O N C LU S I ON The blurring of romantic reality and romantic fiction is not a character­ istic confined to postmodern sensibility. The realist models of love cod­ ify the cultural experience of everyday life, while the romantic code de­ rives from the bodily experience of sexual arousal and is embodied in the cultural scenario of the "adventure," an intense sexual interaction on the margins of social control, which displays marked dramatistic fea­ tures and high emotiona l pitches. I have argued that the romantic code becomes a postmodern emotion only when it articulates other post­ modern cultural idioms: the fragmentation of an overarching love nar­ rative into a series of intense and usually short-lived experiences in which the first encounter is demystified; the replacement of a tragic structure of feeling by an ironic view of one's own romantic ideals; the cult of sexu­ ality and self-realization in place of the religious devotion to another; and finally, the belief that texts and media shape one's romantic identity. A review of the various findings of chapters 3 , 4 , and 5 reveals that the experience of liminality is a key feature of this new postmodern ro­ mantic sensibility. It is manifest in multiple cultural forms that echo and reinforce one another: through a pastoral utopia of romance in which the lovers isolate themselves in nature and invert the ordinary rules of conduct (chapter 3 ) ; through the consumption of leisure goods, espe­ cially travel, during which lovers release emotions and energies and abandon their everyday conduct ( chapter 4); and finally through the ex­ perience of love affairs, or stories, in which the foregrounding of the pre­ sent prevails over a linear projection into the future (chapter 5 ) . Liminality is the emotional mode through which romantic partners access the romantic utopia proper: in this utopian mode, the painstak­ ing difficulties of relationships are erased within an organic bond; gen­ der divisions, social identities, and c lass inequalities are negated by the mutual access to leisure, the suspension of responsibilities, and the fu­ sion of selves within nature. The seclusion of the lovers is replete with cultural meaning, for it suspends and reverses not only everyday rules and norms but the spheres of production and reproduction as well. The intense, self-conta ined " vertica l" temporality of liminality annuls the everyday "horizontal" time of effort, work, and routine. To the extent that the love affair exhibits together a liminality grounded in the sphere

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air

of consumption, an intense fusion of selves, a transgression of norma­ tive conduct, a flat temporality, and a blurring of gender hierarchies, it is a postmodern experience par excellence. Attempts to recover " ro­ mance " in long-term relationships usually come down to restaging the liminal conditions of the a ffair. The couple thus initiates or rejuvenates its bond through the temporal and cyclical withdrawal into conditions of liminality: not only withdrawal from formal public selves, release o f emotional control, a n d s o o n , but a lso full participation in the realm o f commodified leisure. Encoded in commodities as well a s images a n d sto­ ries, liminality is thus the means by which the sphere of consumption in­ heres in the phenomenolgy of romance. Liminality is essential to the definition of the romantic utopia, and as chapters 3, 4 , and 5 show, it exerts a powerful fascination over respon­ dents. Asked to remember their most romantic moment, respondents cited one that took place in an exotic or natural setting, removed from their home, symbolically and geographically. Asked to recount their most memorable love story, even married respondents remembered ones that preceded or were marginal to the institutional framework of marriage and daily life. These stories were usually brief, intense, and s uffused with feelings of "enchantment " or "euphoria ." These liminal experiences a re highly aesthetici zed and are the domain proper where media-like lifestyles are experienced. As Chapters 3 , 4 , and 5 highlighted in different ways, when reflect­ ing on an image of romance or when thinking about the sources of their representation of romance, respondents claimed that these images and representations are fabricated by the " medi a " or created by and for "commercial" interests. But when respondents attended to and retrieved the salient, emotional meanings of their experiences, they become oblivi­ ous to what they otherwise readily " deconstruct" as mere media fabri­ cations. Undoubtedly, as Pierre Bourdieu incisively put it, the logic of practice is different from the logic of logicians; people act according to the shifting definitions of situations rather than according to the coher­ ent script of the sociologist. While there is much t ruth to this, I would argue that, in this case, my respondents' shifting frames of meaning also reveal a postmodern crisis of representation, of which romance is a con­ summate example. Laypeople sometimes act as sociologists and often engage in a critique of the sources of their cultural representations. In the self-reflexive pos­ ture of the interview, respondents perceive the commercial underpin­ nings of the most aesthetic representations of romance, for example, in

Real Fictions and Fictional Realities natural or l uxurious settings. However, the same signs that they readily deconstruct as "stereotypical " or "commercial " p rov ide them with the most pristine and "clearly" defined experiences of romance. When en­ acted, these meanings are the "paramount romantic reality," upon which no "semiotic doubt" is cast. Liminality has a semiotic transparency in which the sign impeccably fits the "romantic referent." By contrast, the " realistic" romantic signs, viewed by respondents as the only " real" ones, when they structure respondent's own experience, are more likely to provo k e an anxious "semiotic query" as to whether the experience corresponds to the code of love. When actually used to construct one's romantic experience, the realistic model of romantic love provokes a semiotic breakdown, such a dissociation between the sign and its referent that the subject may wonder if it has an emotional ref­ erent at all. Intense and liminal romantic experiences are semiotically the most sturdy, even if, when reflected upon, they are readily viewed as " un­ real," that is, as signs with no " real" referent. Here we reach a paradox: although the liminal experience of love is percei ve d as the most potent semiotic frame and prov ide s the most read­ i l y understood, remembered, and retrieved meanings-in short, imposes itself as the most powerful and "real " meaning-it is also suspected of being the most "unreal. " The sign really appears to be more real than the paler reality, not because it has replaced it, but because the enact­ ment of highly energized, monosemic, ritualized, and collective symbolic scenarios is semiotically and experientially more binding than the fuzzier, attenuated meanings of everyday l ife. In this sense can we say that in postmodern culture the relationship between the " signs" of romantic love and their referent has become problematic. The cultural categories through which romance is understood and lived as an intense and total emotion are the most likely to make its experience an immediate and direct one, but they are also the most likely to generate irony and self­ consciousness. Because the less ritualized, more informal meanings of everyday life are more reluctant to point to "love" and are implicitly compared to the ritual meanings of romance, elaborate conceptual work is needed to bring " love " back in. In contemporary culture, such con­ ceptual work is provided by various forms of therapeutic discourse, which stress that the true meaning and experience of love are beyond its ready-made images. In both cases, what the postmodern romantic lover is left with is either the ironic self-suspicion that one imitates Hollywood glamour or the therapeutic suspicion that one does not "work hard enough" to reveal the true essence of love beyond its dull appearances.

All That Is Romantic Melts into Air The result, I would argue, is that the quasi-universal contradiction be­ tween two equally powerful forms of love is not experienced as such. ln­ stead, this contradiction is understood as the by -product either of one's vulnerability to mass media or of one's lack of self-knowledge. If, as Fredric Jameson suggests, utopia is based on a temporal struc­ ture that l inks past to future and on the ability to restore the full clarity of one's freedom and desire, post modern romantic love has an ambigu­ ous utopian value.54 Because it espouses an ironic self-consciousness and a "cool " emotional mode, it has flattened the forceful clarity and drama of emotions. Furthermore, its privileging of fragmentation and of a present-oriented intensity hinders a deepening of the meaning of love. However, utopian mean ings are not entirely a bsent from the contempo­ rary roma ntic condition, for postmodern love a ffirms a pleasure-oriented sexuality and even an androgynou s equality between the genders.

PA RT

3

The Business of Love

CHAPTER

6

Reason within Passion

If romance is a pote nt id iom th rough whi ch the culture of con s umpti on addresses our d esires, it does not necessarily mean that all of our ro­ manti c practices have been colonized by th e market. In cu rrent research, there is a ten d enc y to play media messages and consumer good s against "everyday life," viewed as a zone of " resis tan c e " to th e hege mon y or cultural domination of the former. I nd ee d, a s the precedi ng cha pter has shown, narratives of everyday life a re oppo se d to "media-made" fan­ tasies and by th is token posses s an aura of authenticity. Taken at face value, this cou ld mean that rela t i ons hi p s b ased i n the realm of eve ryda y life have remained out of the reach of late capitali s t culture and thus offer a gen ui ne alternative to mar ket-based relation ships. In the follow­ i ng th ree cha pte rs , I s h ow that this is not the ca se; everyda y life is nei­ ther an alternati ve nor an antidote nor even a zone of res is ta n ce to the market. Rather, everyday life is a cultural extension of di sco u rs e s that e man a te from or at lea st have a dose affinity with those of the sphere of production. If, in the u to pian s ph ere a ssociated with consumption, romance negates soc ial real ity in a fantas y of free-flowing abundance, eq ual ity, and le is u rel y p leas u re , in eve ryda y life romance uses th e lan­ guage and values of the s phe re of produ ction, entailing a rational maxi­ mization of effort and profit. Such a proposition is reminiscent of D aniel Bell's well-known thesis on the "disjuncture " be tw ee n the realms of cons um p tion an d produc­ tion, which has entailed an insurmountable contradiction within the cul­ tu re of ca pita li s m . For Bell, the work et h ic that has presided over and

188

The Business of Love

made p os sible the enormou s gro wth of the capitalist m ode of produc­ tion is now c ontradicted by the hedonism that characterizes the realm of consumption.' Extending Bell 's thesis, I argue th at the contradictions he de scri be s divi de a single cultur al practice, roma ntic love. Whereas pan 2 sh owed th at the subj ective structure of the romantic experience displays the temporal and emoti onal properties of postmodernity, part 3 sh ow s that r omantic l ove i s also bound by the language of the w ork ethic; that it is rati onal, se lf-intere sted, strategic, and profit­ maximi zing ; and that romantic relation ships are conceived and managed in the categories of the utilitarian and instrumental ethos that lies at the heart of the capitalist economic system. Thi s di scourse conflicts with the hedoni stic utopia of l ove ba sed in the sphere of con sumption, but it ech oes the entrepreneurial semantics of work, contr ol, and purposive ra ­ tionality characteristic of the sphere of produc ti on. Thu s, romance has become interw oven not only with the pleas ures, images, and dreams of the sphere of consu mption but a l so with the economic rationality of entrepreneurial capitalism. To clari fy thi s other link I shall analyze the di scourse s of women's magazines because they provide an esta bli shed forum within which romantic rel ationships are discus sed, prescri bed, and formalized. Max Weber ha s m ost compellingly describe d the relati on sh i p be tween entrepreneurial ca pitalism and the pers onality structures that made it possi ble. Like Marx, Weber was c oncer ne d with the transformati on of human val ues br ought a bout by capitalism a nd comm odity exchange, but he accounted for this change with a different historical narra tive, that of "rati on alization . " The cultural logic running through capit al ism, Weber suggested, is the i ncrea si ng rationalization of the legal, c ultural, and ec on omic s pheres. Thi s is a twofold process, cognitive and practi ­ c al. The cognitive aspect encompa sses the attempt to comprehend real ­ ity th roug h " increasingly preci se and abstract concepts, " w hereas in the practical sphere, which We ber termed Zweckrat;onalitiit, or "purposive rati onality, " " the individual rati on ally asse sse s the probable result s of a given act i n terms of the calculation of means to an end . "2 Cognitive ra ­ ti onalization is seen mo st clearl y in science and technol ogy, while prac ­ tical rationaliz ation find s its historical expression in capitalist market re­ lationships. The purp ose of practical rationality in econ omy i s to maximize profit, while cognitive r ation ality helps u s understan d and master nature through abstract an d formal th ought.3 For We ber and his heir s, "rationali zation "-the cultural l ogic of capitalism-orient s not

Reason

within Passion

only organizati onal but personality structures toward calculation, con­ trol, and predictability. On the surface, these characterizations of capitalism seem irrelevant, if not incongruou s, to the modern romantic sent iment . Weber him self viewed love or erotic life in general as a private re spite from public processes of rationali zation in ec onomics, law, and politics and even held that only the "erotic sphere" could save m odern human beings from the negative c on sequence s of exce ss i ve rationalization.4 Summari zing We­ ber's th ought on this matter, Randa ll Collins suggests that " we need a respite from the impersona l realm of politics, economics . . . the imper­ sonality of science, and the irresolvable d i sputes of the se different rati o­ nalized sphere s against each otner. Love i s that respite. Precisely becau se it i s irrational, it provides the personal element that the modern indi­ vidual needs, to give some mea n ing t o a world of conflicting institution s that have become to o rational. "5 However, aga inst Weber and despite historical changes that, on their face, would cont radict thi s hypothesis, I argue that love has become rationalized. The most noteworthy of these changes is the increasing dominance of irrational models of l ove within the rational instituti on of marriage (a s discussed in chapters I and 2). Although American marriage h a s always emphasized romantic l ove more than its European counterpart, the romantic -realist divisi on still had currency during the nineteenth century, for marriage wa s still explicitl y m otivated by the rational evaluati on of a partner's current or pr ospective social standing. A s the " reali st" ju sti­ fication of marriage became replaced by a purely r omantic view, "disin­ tere sted" and "gratuitou s"-that i s, from an ec on omic stand p oint, " ir­ rati onal"-Iove become the only legitimate rea son and goal for marriage.6 If love ha s indeed become rati onalized, we must be able t o acc ount for this process. H ow i s the legitimation o f a rational institution (marriage) by an irrational feeling ( romantic love ) to be understood within the general process of the rati onalization of subjecti vity? The beginning of an answer can be found by looking at how the a s­ soc iation between romantic l ove and marriage became during the first decade s of the century the object of public scrutiny by self-appointed "experts" on the human psyche such as sociologists, psychologists, and marriage c ounselors. As marriage became increasingly " r omantic" rather than "realist, " it was perceived a s increasingly fragile, as indicated by sharply rising divorce rates. In response to th is crisi s the number and prestige of "scien tific " experts claiming the a uth ority to discuss, manage,

The Business of Lov e

and ultimately remedy it grew apace.7 To a p u bl ic in search of advice, these new expert s off ered what] sugge st c a lling " pa rasc i e nti fic di sco urse," that is, a popularized ver sio n of scientific modes of an al ys is, ge a re d to a broadly educated lay p ublic. Alth o ugh endowed with l e ss p res ti ge an d a ut hori ty than one ai me d at a co m m uni ty of experts, a pa ra ­ scientific discourse s i in veste d with the semiotic and in s ti tu tio n al marks of symbol ic competence. Since the first decades of the century , these ex ­ perts have bec omea rbiters of " emotional heal th," their voices increas­ ingly p r om inen t in the l a rge r cultural arena, in magazines and self -help books, on radio and television. T h r ough these p a r asc ie nt ific discourses we can qu estion the opposi ­ tion between t he rationalization of love and the le g itima tio n of i r ration a l erotic impulses. W h at forms of discursive consciousness and normative orientation of the romantic pers onal it y a re prom oted by para sci e nt i fic discourses ? This question has b ec o me espe c i a l ly pressing as the author­ ity of these d isc o u rse s has sharpened the trend towa rd the "scientiza­ t i on " of love , subjecting love to rationalized, "scientific" scrutiny in a wide variety of p ubl ic forum s. In my a nal y sis of women's m a gaz i ne s, it became clear that Weber's con c l us ion about the gr owing separation be­ tw een the "erot ic sphere " and the rationalized spheres of the market, sci­ ence, and b urea uc racy is qu esti on a b l e . "Instrumental reason" has pen­ etrated domains hith ert o b eyond its reach an d , in the proces s, has ra ti ona l i ze d the psyche its e l f . This is ma ni fes t in the themes, me tapho rs , a nd no rm a ti ve logic of the romantic discourse of women's magazines.8 C H A RT ING T H E HEART Most of the thirty-fiv e m a gazi ne a rticles I analyzed can be categorized accor ding to th re e gene r a l thematic orientations: (I) prescriptive arti cles giving "recipes" for attainin g a successful re l ati on s h i p, rej uven ating ro ­ mance in a ma rriage , obtaining a da te, or i mb uin g a "sta le " r elationshi p with p as s io n; (2) normative art icles dealing w ith relationships with for­ bidden or unsuitable person s , such as a boss, a ma r ri e d man, an older man, or the ex-boyf riend of one' s best frien d ; (3) analytical articles aimed at p rovi din g an un derst andi ng of how love starts, the d i f e rence between a good and a bad rel ations hi p, or how the "m agi c of l ov e" is to be ex ­ pl a i ne d, based on pol ls an d popularized s oci olog ic al or psychologica l works. These categories go hand· in· hand with pr ob l em s women face i n finding a mate, i d en ti fyi ng whether or not he i s suitable, a n d keeping the

romance in marr iage alive.

Reason within Passion

To the first problem, the recommend ed sol ution run s counter to the myth of predestination. The articles advise organizing the search for a soul mate like a job search, offering tips , for example, on place s where one is likely to meet men. In other words, these articles explicitly and forcefully advise women to activel y take their romantic destiny into their own hands. To the problem of a prospective mate's suitability, the magazines of­ fer a variety of solutions, for example, comparing checklists of his assets and defects. The romantic conception of love is explicitly replaced by more realist discussions on socioecon omic and psychological compati­ bility. Numerous quizzes are provided to help women evaluate compati ­ bility and to draw the delicate boundary between "suitable" and "un­ suitable" mates. For example, d ifferences in religion or large age differences are considered acceptable, while dating married men is deemed highly problematic. As to keeping romance alive, the magazines surveyed provi de two types of answers: make efforts to enhance romance by a variety of in­ novations, and accept that good rel ationships are based on negotiation and undergo occasional conflicts. For example, Woman's "recipes " for creating or maintaining passion include writing love notes and putting them on the refrigerator, giving unexpected, creative presents, and preparing a ro mant ic, gourmet dinner to be eaten by candlelight. The message conveyed is that lack of romance is caused by lack of effo rt. With the right will and a little calculation, such essential ingredients of romance as spontaneity can be restored to any relationship. Other arti ­ cles prescribe a more ambiguous strategy in which"recipes " for romance are subordinated to more psychologically oriented strategies for rejuve­ nating love. For example, observing that "we resist the idea tha t nego­ tiation and romance can coexist," one magazine columnist asserts that "romance and nego tiation are not only compatible but necessary in an adult relationship. "9 Carried further, this logic suggests that romance and marriage do not necessarily coincide. "Con flicts and even occasional doubts are normal in marriage-especially in the early years, when you m ust learn to compromise and adjust your own needs and expectations to harmoniz e with those of your mate. Marriage means compromise, conflict, sharing and inevitably surprise ." tO While the discourse of these articles implicitly suggests that the he­ donist romance is the only valid ideal, it discredits that ideal as well by prescribing an alternati ve model of relationship, based on realism, mu­ tual understanding, and communication, that normalizes and legitimates

The Busi ness of Love

the absence of r o m an ce in marriage. In other words, here also, two mod­ els of relationship seem to be advocated at the sa m e time: one h old ing routine, labor, and calcu lat i o n as the enemies of true roman ce, and an­ other pr escri b ing regula r ap plications of effort and s k ill ful management as necessary conditions for a lon g- l as t in g re lation sh i p . The idealist and realist na rrati ves ana lyz e d in ch a p ter s are embedd ed in ro ot metaphors of "intensity" and " w or k , " e x a m i ne d in t he fo llo w i ng section . Such an a n al ysi s of the root metaph o r s of love enables us to grasp what an a na ly ­ sis of n ar rative s cannot deliv er, namely, that there is an a ffin ity between

metaphors of the wor k place and the contem porary realist model of love . PASSION WITHIN REASON, REASON WITHIN PASSION

Two broad metaph or i cal fie l ds c orres po nd to the two models of love that pr ed o mi n a te in American society and c u lture : love as an all- consuming intense force and love as ha rd w o rk.

LOVE A S PLEASURE

The m etap h or of love as an a l l -cons u m i n g force is one of the most fa­ miliar ones in the romantic tradition. It h as se ver al metapho rica l sub­ fields. It may be a burning force; the m etaphor of l ov e as fire is one of the most a ncient and pervasive in the rhetoric o f love: "There were sparks between them" or "Passion: How to Igni te It, Reign ite It, M ake It Last." I! A related, more modern metapho r is th at of lo ve as a magnetic for ce , as i n " there was a magnet p u ll i n g them together " or "there was an irresistible attraction between them . " Another c u ltura l ly central metaphor is tha t of magic. This meta phor may h a ve its roots in ancient folk practices in whic h magic was act ual l y emp l oye d to help someone gain the heart of another. 12 In mo d ern discourse, however, this metaphor indicates love's mysterious, sweeping power. For example: "Truly p as­ sionate love can m a g i call y transform us into fuller, richer persons," and "When you stop focusing your a ttenti o n on your re latio ns h i p you for­ get ho w m uch you enjoy the magic of love."13 A common co ncep t ual th re ad run s thro ugh the metaphors of love as fire, as a magnetic force, and as magic: love is conceived as an au­ tonomo us agent, acting with a force of its own, i n depe ndent of the will or control of the lover. Grammatically and semantically, in ph ra ses like "love p i erced her heart" love is conceived as an entity in itself, detach­ able from the person and acting on its own: what sparks and m aintai ns

R ea son within P assion

19 3

love is beyond cons cious and rational understanding. C ons equently one cannot predict love; one can only wait to be enraptured by it. However, although such metaphors are consistent with the tradi tion of lov e as an intens e force, th e activities and the values promoted by this model differ from t hose that make up the idealist tradit ion of love. For example, according to an article analyzing what begins , s us tains, and termina tes l ove, the mos t important ingredients for keeping love alive are "h e roic advent ures, secr et getaways , the m oving bed, dining au naturel, a picnic in the tra in, s nooz es and s nuggles , love notes, s ex on the dining-room table. "14 The paradoxical v alu es promoted in this lis t of in gredien ts of a happy love are a scripted ori ginality an d a calculated spontaneity; they appeal to the " anti-institutional" and he­ donist definitions of the self that have increas ingly characterized ro­ mantic practices s ince the turn of the century. Emphas is on the a bility to deliberately create spontaneous moments of pl easure, with hedo­ nis m as an implicit goal , conflict with the Romantic notion of love as an uncontrol led and overwhelming pass ion with an abs olute, spiritual significance.

LOVE AS WORK: THE ROMANTIC ETHIC AND THE SPIRIT OF CAPITALISM

As we s aw in ch apter 5, the cultural m odel of love as an inten se force coexists with the oppos ni g model of love as work. I n the latter, effort re­ places the magics park, comm itment the overwhelming force of passion, relativity the absol uteness of love, and conscious monitoring the s pon­ taneous outburs t. "Work" has thus become one of the most widely us ed metaphors for relations hip. One wor ks at a success ful relations hip by "lay ing its foundation" and then " buil ding" it. Partners are "cowork­ ers " involved in " teamwork "; one " inves ts " in a relations hip in order to " benefit" from it, and so on. IS As developed by thes e magazines, the metaphor of love as work in­ dicates a transfer from the discurs ive arena of market exchange to that of interpersonal relationships . For example: "As in busines s or soc ial contract, the part ies [ to a lov e relationship] govern thems elv es by what­ ever defi nitions and limits they hav e agreed on."16 And: " Lov e si a feel­ ing but a relations hip is a contract. While fal ling in love can jus t hap­ pen, a loving relationship requires cert ain skills in order to be sus tained. " 17 Th e dis tinction betw een "feeling" and "relationship" s i an interes ting one, for it pres erves the " my stique" of love while making it

1 94

The Business of Love

at the same time subject to the metaphors of the ma rketplace. These metaphors have two broad implications: (I) lov e is controllable by our thoughts, and we are therefore responsible for its success or failure; and (2) love is a commod ity susceptible to the strategies of market transac­ tions and bargaining. In a broad sense, this discour se derives from " utilitarian individual ­ i s m ," which stipulates that one must ev aluate r elationships by wei gh­ ing their costs a ga i nst the extent to which they satisfy one's ne eds . l s Such a view can b e detected in this example: "N o matter how mu ch he l oved me, my partner cou ldn't intuit my needs in some mystical fash­ ion. He had his ow n needs to worry about. It was up to me to see that my n eed s were met and the way to do that was to negotiate with him for what I w a nted. " 19 Contr ary to the R omant ic o r organ ic vision of l ove, in this approach the bond is not viewed as the merging of two bodies and souls b ut as one in which each partner has a distinct set of needs that, if incompatible, can only be s at i sfied throu gh a process of ba rgaini ng . C ontrast the u tilitarian premise of the above citation with the vision of love as an organic bond also present in some women's magazines: "The very best I- lov e- you's come with no ifs, ands, or buts attached. They come in the k ti chen as well as in the bedroom. They are sp ontaneous expressions of affection that don't hide silent assump tions or demands. "20 The contrast between these two examples cogently il­ l ustrates the pre mise s of the utilitarian ethos, n a mel y, that the main goal of relationships is to satisfy both partners' needs and interests and that this i s achieved throu gh control, negotiation, and compromise. G one is the Ro mantic v ision of two lovers passionately longing for the fusion of their souls, in life or e ven, as was of ten the case, in death. I n­ s tead, these articles offer forms of reasoning promoted in the p u b lic sp here of ma rket transactions. In the first pl ace, they propose that in­ dividuals fre e l y choose their relationsh ips from a pool of possible part­ ners. An art icle in Self magazi ne calls s eeki ng a partner like looking f or a job and e xpl ain s in detail that one must be decisive and systematic in the search for a " soul mate. "21 S econdly , they foster the same values re qui red for success in bu s i ne s s: independence, self-reliance, aggres­ siveness, and the ability to project one's personality and needs. Another article in New Woman maga zine extends this li st: "Negotiators . . . as­ sume e qua lity and do themse l ves and their partn ers the ser vice of stat­ ing their n e ed s c le a r ly, hea r in g ou t their partners, and compromising with them in those places where the two d iverge ." 22 Abo ve all, the utili­ tarian ethos a dv ances the n oti on of relationships as a transaction in

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which the couple must be pa rtn ers in a n e qui tabl e a n d fruitful ex­ change . Here is a rather gl a ring e x a mp le of how eco nomic jargo n is used w i th in the roma n tic s phere : "Love is like a marketplace transac­ ti on . . . love r s are c on tent w ith t h eir rel a tio nships to the degree that what they're giving is in l ine with what they 're getting. The we ig hing of contr ibutions (inputs) to p ro fits (o utcomes ) can trade o ff person al attributes suc h a s beauty o r person a l warmth against power or riches."23 Meta phors of business have thoro ughl y pervaded the dis­ course of love and romance used by layme n and laywomen a n d by e x perts such as p sycholog ists. s ocio logi sts. and economists.24 As D a niel Goleman puts i t: "In recent years. the mainstream of psych o l o g i cal re­ search has loo k ed at love almost a s i f it were a business transacti o n, a matter of p r o fi t and 10s s."25 The semantics o f " romantic entrepre­ neu r ship" even rely on the same voc a bul a ry that Norman Kohn fou n d c ha racteristic o f mi d d l e -c la s s values toward work: self-directed ness, a sense of respon s i bi l ity, a n d self-monitoring.16 Ec hoing the powerful cultu r al idiom of the s p he re of production, women's ma g az ines suggest that instead of b ei ng " stricken " or "smi t ten" by love, a wom a n is re­ s po nsible for her romantic s uccesses a nd failures, that she must "work hard " to secure a c o m for t a ble e motional future for h erself, and t ha t she should guarantee that a relationship will p ro vide an equita ble ex­ change. One ma y th erefore conclude that for m i ddle-cla s s women the values of ro ma nce a re intertwined with the kind of self-reliance and values that a re demanded b y the wo rkpl a ceP The penetration of c u l t u re and love by the values of capita lism be­ trays a ratio nalization not o n l y of interperso nal relat io ns hips but of the self a s well. Jackson Lears has arg ued that at the end of the nineteenth century, " in the in ter d epen d en t marketplace, the fragmented self became a commodity like any other, to be assem bled and ma n i pu l ated for pri­ vate gai n . " Lears goes on to propose that "ra tionalization of our i n ner life pro m o ted other subtle forms of rati o nalizatio n -forms that accom­ modated to rath e r than opp osed the corporate system which emerged in the late n i neteen th cencury. " 18 Thus, far from be i ng above, outside, or beyond the sphere of capita l ist prod uction, modern discourses of lo ve are suffused w ith the se l f- re l i ance , individualism, and uti l itaria n outlook der ived from this sphere. In Weber's ter minolo gy, the romantic ethic prom o ted by these m a ga ­ zines is analogous to the ethic instrumental in the for mation of the capi­ talist entreprene ur. Li ke the Protestant e thic, this eth i c promotes an in­ strume ntal, rather than affective or value-laden, rationality by viewing ­

The Business of Love

the roma ntic relationship as a goa l atta ined through the systematic im­ plementation of co ntrolled and pla nned procedures. The " ro mantic ethic " is fully consistent with the capita list credo that relationships should be evaluated using the same l ogic of profit and loss common to the business world. T H E UNCERTAINTIES OF T H E HEA RT In the termi no logy of anthropology, the metaphorical field of love as an intense force depends on an economy of the gift, while that of love as work is based on the sa me contractual exchange model underlyi ng capi­ talist markets. Although the cultural motif of love as pure " waste and gift" is withering away, the various metaphors of love as an intense force are anchored in social and economic practices of waste, a pure expen­ diture of self and wea lth for the sake of an organic bond. On the other hand, the love-as-work model is rooted in the mutually pro fitab le ex­ change of contra ctual relationships. The ai m of the organic bond of love is to achieve the fusion of tw o individual selves regardless of their posi ­ tion in a relation of power and of any potential losses or benefits. There­ fore, women's magazi nes and media with similar audiences are pro­ moting two antithetical emotion al (and for that matter, economic) cultural models. How are we to e xplain the conti nuing coexistence of these two equally powerful repertoires of love, the "orga nic" and the "contrac­ tual "? Why and how are re latio nships to fulfill two contradictory re quirement s, one affective-gratuitous a nd the other instrumenta l­ utilitarian ? Tr aditiona lly, sociologists explain this contradi ction by sug­ gesting that romantic love a nd marriage promote di fferent values and that the incorporation of love into marriage creates a symbolic co ntra­ diction between the values espoused by ro mantic love (intensity, ideali­ zation of the other, i nterest-free emotion ) and those necessary for a suc­ cessful marriage ( sharing daily life , coping with a less-tha n-per fect other, envisioning love in the " long term," i ntegra ti ng love with the responsi­ bilities of a famil y and work). According to Ann Swidler, this incom­ patibility translates into "tensions between . . . partiall y conflicting con­ ceptions of love and marriage ende mic in our society toda y." These tensions result from the fact that the need for "spo ntaneit y" and " per­ sonal intim acy " is not " anchored in objective p atterns o f roles and so­ cial institutions . "29 Pursuing Swidler's argument, I propose that these tensions are the result of a structural contra di ction between marriage as

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an institution of social reproduction and marriage as a unit for the ex­ pression of the individual's emotions. The family was conceived as an economic unit of production until the eighteenth c entury, when the economic fu nction of marriage was gradually replac ed by a view of marriage as the altar of private life and affectionate sentiments.3D Individuals became free to choose their part­ ners on the basis of mor al and "personal" merits rather tha n social sta­ tus or family fortune. In contrast to the traditional marriage, roman­ tic love stood as the " di sinterested b ond" par excellence: transcend ing the barriers of class, it presumably could unite people otherwise sepa­ rated by a multiple array of social boundaries. W hile the notion of in­ terest b ecame progressively legitimized in the pub lic spher e ( most no­ ticeably in the political and economic spheres) , it was suspect in the private sphere of human relationships. In the currently dominant ide­ ology, marriage can b e legitimately entered into only under the aus­ pices of the irrational, gratuitous, and disinterested emotion of ro­ mantic love. Neverthel ess, marriage remains a pow erf ul , though unack nowledged, channel for social mob ility and by extensi on, for maintaining social in­ eq ualities. A s economists and sociologists of the family claim, and con­ trary to our popular myth, love is rarely blind. Under capital ism, social relations a re characteriz ed by class stratifi ca tion and individual compe­ tition; marriage bonds are formed in this context and sustain rather th an disrupt it. O ne of the prim ar y functions of marriage is to reproduce so­ cial class through the en counter and choice of social " likes. " Althou gh love seem s to be " interest free," marriage follows strategies of invest­ ment that aim at maintaining or enhancing one' s social position ("D oes he make enough money? " "Is he intellectual enough for me ?" "Is she in­ terested in the same cultu ral acti vities ? " ) . Marriage is often still a search for a partner with the " best available assets," and the affectionate mar­ riage has, paradox ically enough, instituted a " market point of view" in romantic relationships.3l The confl ict b etween " ideali st" and "realist" or "organic" and " contractual" approaches to m arriage thus mirrors the confl ict between the ideal of " interest-free" love and m arriage's function of social reproduction. The langu age of the marketplace, of "homo eco­ nomicus, " furnishes a "natural" cultu ral frame to articulate this confl ict. As we will see in the next chapter, in handling the tension between the choice of a "socially desirable" part ner and a choice made on purely emotional considerations, my respondents use the p urposive and utili­ tarian rationality of the m arket.

The Business of Lov e

At this point, traditional analy ses of the mass med ia would probably conclude that the tw o metaphorical fields we have de lineated uncon­ sciously refl ect and reproduce the contradictions in mar riage bred by the cu ltu re of c apit alism, but women's magazines- and self-help l iterature in general-d isplay an interesting feature: namely , they not only refl ect this contradiction but refl ect upon it. Far from being unconscious, the contradicti on between the "ideal romance" and the "r ealistic w orking out of relationships" i s endlessly articulated, commented upon, and ex­ plained in these pu blications. Ev en more importantly, women's maga­ zines offer symbolic tools to manage these contradictions, through the implementation of a new epistemology of the self, the "therapeutic ethos. " While ut ilitarian individualism brings the interpersonal sphere under the sway of purposive rationality (Zweckrationalitiit), the thera­ peutic ethos submits it to cognitive rationalization. By promoting self­ reflexive and formal modes of reasoning. this ethos foster s a rational at­ tit ude toward the self.

THE S C I ENCE O F L OVE THE THERAPEUTIC ETHOS

In their study of the American cult ural traditions that form the back ­

bone of middle-class value orientations, Robert Bellah and his associ­ ates point to therapeutic discourse as an important source of the for­ mation of the self. T hey further suggest that because the therapeutic ethos ev olv es from the utilit arian individualism that has pervaded American social relationships, it is ill-eq uipped to provid e a basis for commitment)2 In my view , however , al though they use convergent models of self and soci al relationships, the therapeutic ethos is d istin­ guished fro m utilitarian individualism by its use of self -knowledge and reflexivity. As it emerges from the articles used in this study, therapeuticd iscourse revolves around the follow ing core propositions: R elationships can be divided into "healthy" and " unhealthy. " The bond uniting a man and a woman is open to study and can be evalu ated by exper ts according to objective criteria. J ust as people can acquire knowledge about any ot her ar ea, they can control t heir romantic relat ionsh ips through w ork and the a pplication of appropriate strategies and techniques.

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The key to romantic failure lies in early life experiences. U nderstanding past experiences w ill lead to healthy relations hips. Romantic su ccess thus depends upon s elf-knowledge and the ability to implement this knowledge in one's life. The therapeutic ethos fu ncti ons on two ideological lev els : on the first, the authority of experts and th e us e of science in interpersonal relations are legitimized; on the se cond, forms of rati onality are instilled by "epis ­ temic devices ," through which one comes to" know " something. Th e therapeuti c ethos not only reli es heav ily on the dis cursive style and au­ thority ofs cientific discourses but utili zes the sam e epistemi c categories ass ocial scientists who study the emotions. The fi rst cla i m concerns the use of science as a way of asserting the symbolic authority of romantic discourses, while the second concerns the modes of s elf- understanding con veyed by the th erapeutic ethos.

THE LEGITIMATION OF EXPERTS

When women' s magazines cite experts o n love, it is usuaU y either to ex­ plain what " sparks, maintains and end s love" or to prescri be speci fic ro­ manti c behavior. The normative dimension consists in defining the boundaries between normaV healthy and pathologi ca Vunhealthy rela­ tionships, while the explanatory dimension prov ides w omen with a framework within which to acc ount for their success or failure in fi nd­ ing a partner and susta i ning rom ance .

THE NORMALIZING FUNCTION OF THE THERAPEUTIC ETHOS

The therapeutic ethos is heavily represented in the magazine articles ana­ lyzed, w hi ch make frequent m en tion of " scientis ts , " including psychol­ ogists, physicians , and the generic" researchers." Indeed, in the articles surv eyed, I found an impres si ve number of references to experts of var­ ious types (thir ty-four); the overwhelming majority w ere psychologis ts, and the rest "so ciologists," " anthropologists," and "researchers . " As one article puts it with typical breathlessnes s: "For thousands of yea rs the question [ of love] has been explored by poets, philosophers and song­ w riters. More recently, scientis ts have joined the inq uiry." 33 The invo­ cation of experts is us ed to unv eil and explain what the title of a Cos ­ mopolitan article calls the "sweet scientific mystery of lo ve. " 34 Many

2.00

The Business of Love

ar ticles introduce a specifi c argument with the phrase " in a study. . . ... And romantic ar ticles rely heavily on statistics and polls to "prove" the valid ity of their analyses and advice. For example: "R esearchers have come up w ith information and insights gleaned f rom stu dies on what at­ tr acts us to someone oft he opposite sex, how lasting bonds between men and women are forged, h ow personality and early childhood experience aff ect our capacity for and success at lov e."35 Far from being a medium for the reproduction of fict ions or m ythologies, women's magazines are a forum for t he popularizati on of academic research. However, these magazines use social-scientifi c r esear ch not only for its descriptive bu t also and more importantly for its norm ativ e functions, the most notable of which is defining " healthy" as opposed to " pat hological" behaviors. In other words, they utiliz e scientific discourse to legitimate a particular vision of normality . A nd they fulfill this function in such ritual ph rases as "it is perfectly normal to" or " while it is heal thy t o . . . . " For exam­ ple: "Confl icts and even occasional doubts are normal in marriage. "36 Or: "W hen a friend dates an ex- boyfriend of yours it's nor mal to feel jealous, competitive and left ou t . . . . T he healt hy thing is to walk away."37 N ormalization serves to convert mor al statements into tr uth statements validated by the signs of " scientific" exper tise. Such normali­ zation is presented in impersonal judgments ( " it is healthy") rather than in the personal form ("I consider it healthy" ) . Such a discour se thus jus­ tifies the intervention of expert s through the use of medical metaphors in which human relationsh ips are discussed in the same terminology as "sick" or "healthy" organism s. THE EXPLANATORY FUNCTION OF THE THERAPEUTIC ETHOS

The explanatory fu nction of the t herapeu tic ethos lies at the heart of its symbolic p ower . From an ideological standpoint, explanatory systems are cr ucial because they provide j ustifications (i.e., ideologies) for why things ar e the way they are, and j ustifi cations are essential t o the ideo­ logical arena because they entail corrective strategies. For example, blaming a romantic failure on m ale chauvinism, an unresol ved O edipal confl ict, or the general deterioration of human relationships under capi­ tali stic society will yield very different cur ative str ategies. Lik e many psychological textbooks, women's magazines maintain that the reasons for rom antic f ailu res may be sought in early child­ hood . By so doing they imply t hat such failure results f rom a person­ ali ty problem inherent in the woman hersel f. B ut wh ereas Freud of-

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2.01

a tragic vision of m an and woman as enslaved b y the masked and unruly fo rc e s o f their unconscious, these magazines hold t h ose who fa il at romance or m a rria ge resp o nsi b l e for the s e failures. (They often su g­ gest, for example, th a t women may " resist" s u cc e ss ful rela tion sh ip s. ) Whereas in classical psychoanalysis, the determinism of the un con ­ sci o u s c ou l d b e ov e rcome on ly th ro ug h the long a nd p ai n fu l process of the ana lyti cal cure, women's m agazi nes promote the view that, l i ke t he self-made man, a woman can rise above the pa ttern of her failu res t hr o ug h " s el f-hel p , " d il i ge n tly taki ng to h e art th e ri g ht advice. This ethic of res po n si b i l i ty is ambiguous, however. Since it locates the origi­ n a l reason for romantic failure in circumstances be y on d the contr ol o r even awareness of the subject, experts of the psyc he become necessary. Experts b e co me the intermediaries between the different parts of o u r divided selves, thus pa rt i a lly d i sc h ar g ing us of resp on s i b il i t y. B ut at the sa me time, the th e r ape u t i c ethos fu lly reinforces and extends the credo of t h e Protestant ethic by m a k i ng one respons ib l e ev en for one's emo­ tio nal de stiny. The historical encou nter betwee n the ideology of roma ntic love and the rising influence of experts in the domains of private l ife ha s give n b i rth to a nother pa radox: now that it is no longer ruled by re a s on , cal­ culation, and planning but is s een rather as consecrated by the irrat io n a l and intense emotion of l ove , marriage has bec om e an ob ject of sc r uti ny by scientific r a tiona l it y.

fered

THERAPEUTI C DISC OURS E AND REF LEX I VE DISCOURSE This development ca l ls into q uestion a well-estab lished view o f women's magazines as fosteri ng "i rra t iona l, " " my th ical , " or emotional ap ­ proa che s to love. Instead, as may be seen by exa m i ni ng the forms o f rationality and refle x ivity th ey promote, these magazines offer a diluted form o f soc ial science, inviting their readers to a dopt a p roto -sc ie ntific attitude towa rd themselves an d their romantic re la t i onsh ips. This trans­ fer of scientific into rom antic d iscou rse is achieved by a metadiscour se

that dwells upon itself and fosters self-refl ex vi ity.38 THE LABELING FUNCTION

Na m i ng and d efi ning are form al proc ed u res o f th i nki ng fundamental to the discursive and i d eo l ogic a l arena. As Marc Angenot puts it,

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The Busines5 of Love

" Defining is a l so a way of arguing. It means taking a stand from the outset. " 39 For example, whether we label the physiological response that follows our attraction to someone " a cru sh," " l o ve at first sight," " sexual desire, " " l u st," or "the neurotic enactment of p a st desires" con nect s us with very different cultural repertoires. Women's maga­ zines explicitly ask their readers to focu s on the names of emotion s and to become aware of the l a bels the y use and misuse. A typical example : "The 'go -cra zy kind of love, ' [a psychologist ] contends , is often noth ­ ing more t han a mad, passionate mislabeling of your emotions. "40 Such discur sive strategy parallels the cognitive therapies that attempt to modify behavior by showing patie nts how they have wrongly labeled their emotions . Metadiscursi ve discussion of the " a ppropriate " nam­ ing of emotion s i s likely to increa se awareness of the labeling strate­ gie s u sed to classify emotio n s. Women 's m aga zi nes dwell on this clas­ sifi catory function of language, wh ich con sists in consciou sly drawing sema ntic boundaries between concepts and/or events. Consider the fol­ lowing example: " Falling in love on vacation c an be h a zardous to your heart if yo u e xpect to love happily ever after. Romance, on the other hand, can be a delightful a d venture that you revel in while it's hap­ pening. "41 Such symbolic boundaries give different mea nings to what ma y appear to be the same experience (a romantic /sexual encounter) and imply different conse quences depending on how such an event i s la beled . That is, rather than expressing the nature o f an experience, a label ca n determine that nature. In doing so, as in this e x ample, label­ ing artic ulates the boundary betwee n " safe " a nd " hazardous" roma n­ tic encounters, which is to sa y, between behavior that i s acce ptable or otherwise according to the conven tional morality of prudent calcula­ tion. Consider some other exam ple s: "Passion is more than j u st sexual desire. It is also characterized by the powerful emotions of love, hate, and rage, of lust, zeal, jea l o usy and pos ses si veness. Passion encom­ pa sses the m yria d expressions of aliveness and intensity in a relation­ ship "42 Or: "Often the men with whom we h ave the strongest sexual chemist ry are the men with w hom we woul d be the least a ble to form a compati ble marriage. "43 In t hese examples, the boundary has the function of circumscri bing zones of "allowed" and " forbidden " be ­ ha vior. More importantly, by insi sting that the reader reflect on the boundaries be tween " real" and "ephemer a l " feelings, such discussions invite a reflexive posture toward the self. In fact, women 's magazines treat the hea rt a s a text that women have to decipher and interpret correctly i f they are to be ha p p y. "Watch out .

Reason within Passion

20 3

for anyone who happens to walk into your life when you're having a bad day-that's not love� that's a spillover of feeling from one realm to an­ other. "44 Thus women's magazines convey not only a n ormative content but a l so a mode of hermeneutic self-reflexivity in which readers are ad­ vised to routinely question the "true meaning" of their emotion s. Such activity promotes a self-reflexive scientific attitude toward romantic re­ lationships and self in general.

S E LF - A N A LY S I S A S S C I E N T I F I C ANA LYSIS

To remedy romantic fa ilure, women are further encouraged to adopt a pseudo - scientific attitude toward the self and sel f-knowledge. First, they are aske d to view themselves as objects of study, for the magazines suggest that the problem is not the failure to find or sustain romance in itself but the repeated pattern of failure. For example, in an article (written by a psychologist) "on falling in love with a man every­ one ( i ncluding you) t hinks is wrong for you," the rea der is advised, be­ fore reacting to other people's disapproval of her relationship, to stu dy hersel f for signs of a general " pattern of going against the tide. "45 The pattern, more than the behavior itself, is the problem, and women are a dvised to become aware of such repetitive patterns through self­ observation. Once they discover a pattern to their romantic failures, they can recognize new instances and-with will power and the right advice­ break the pattern. Furthermore, the magazines implicitly a sk women to perform on themselves the same mental operations that define social-scientific in­ quiry: take a subject (herself) as the object o f study, identify behavioral patterns, establi sh correlation s, find a causal variable, and unveil the rea ­ son s behind the behavior.46 What Philip Rieff has written about " psy­ chological man" can be applied even more pointedly to " psychological woman " : " [She] takes on the attitude of a scientist, with [herself] a lone as the ultimate object of [her] science. "47 One of the most interesting features of articles proffering such " sel f­ improvement" programs is that, like many sociological studies, they de­ nounce the falsity of mass media representations. " Marriage is not al­ way s the romantic fantasy you see played out in advertisements for honeymoon getaways. Few, if any, have such an idyllic relation and you should not measure your own marriage against impossibly high standards. " 48 The claims to superior knowledge made by these article s thu s includes the unmasking of illusions produced by the med i a . By

The Business of Love

attacking the falsity of the media and decrying their power, they invite women to examine and question the cultural sources of these represen­ tations. Here also we find expressions of the postmodern suspicion that media cultivate images and stories that substitute for the "real" experi­ ence of love, but this suspicion is here invoked in order to empower women with a critical consciousness rather than to revel in the ironic semiotic cynicism that so often characterizes postmodern consciousness. This form of reflexivity invites women to criticall y examine the founda­ tions of their representations and ground them instead on the " unglam­ orous reality" of " real relationships . " The increased self-reflexivity en­ couraged by therapeutic disc o urse thus prom otes both criticism and self-criticism. What are the political implications of the penetration of the rational­ i zed discourse of the market and of science into the romantic discourse? Does this rationa li zed discourse debase the romantic bond, or does it have, as it claims to, an emancipatory p otential?

LOV E AN D THE R A T I ONAL I ZAT I O N O F THE L I F E - W O R L D

Women's maga zines reve al that romantic discourse has undergone the same process of cognitive and practical rational i zation that Weber deemed characteristic of the cultural logic of capitalism. Adorno and Horkheimer's critical theory of capitalism rests on the utopian premise that intersubjective relationships and economic ex­ change ought to remain i n two separate spheres.49 The foregoing analy­ sis apparently confirms Adorno and Horkheimer's claim that in capital­ istic societies processes of commodification and reification have penetrated all spheres of life and that " instrumental reason " has under­ mined all of modern culture, a pr ocess Jurgen Habermas has called the "colonization of the life-world." As one commentator puts it, " In con­ temporary capitalism, areas once se pa rate from exchange and com­ modification, such as sex, love and culture, [are] becoming i ntegrated into the system of exchange, and [are] increasingly dominated by ex­ change values and relationships_"so Because of the depth at which ra­ tionali zation processes seemed to have invaded m odern subjectivity, Adorno and Horkhei mer were pessimistic as to the possibilities for emancipation in c apitalist society. Michel Foucault has provided the most powerful critique of the vari­ ous instruments of control of the psyche developed by modern psycho­ a nalysis and psychology. Therapeutic discourse is part of what he calls

Reason within Passion "bio-power, " the collaboration of science, capital, and the state to mold individuals into " d isciplined " subjects, that is, objects of their own ob­ servation and control.Sl In this view, the encroachment of scientific ra­ tionality into romantic love has made women into their own " panopti­ con " : in monitoring their emotions and behavior according to norms o f social science and capitali st exchange, women are made subject t o what Foucault sees as the vast technology of control deployed by modernity. Rejecting Foucault's assessment and departing somewhat from his predecessors at the Frank furt School, Habermas is reluctant to see rationali zation of the interpersonal or "communicative" sphere as hav­ ing the same negative effects as rationalization o f the economic and political spheres ( "system rationalization " ) .52 He holds that rationali­ zation of the latter has the potential to counter the deficiencies inherent in system rationa li zation and is thus emancipatory. Since rationali zed therapeutic discourses are primarily geared to women, the most obvious way to evaluate Habermas's claim is to frame the question in the terms of femi nist emancipation. How has the rationali zation of love rein­ forced the traditional association of women with a sphere of sentimen­ tality and emotion ? Any answer to this question can only be speculative and tentative. As Francesca Cancian and others have argued, in nineteenth-century America, as the family ceased to be a unit of production and men and women more and more took their respective social identities from the now-separate spheres of economic production and domestic life, the realm of feeling, which seemed to have no place in the increasingly com­ petitive and " masculine" world of the capitalist economy, came to be viewed as the territory o f women alone. As Cancia n puts it, love was "femini zed," and women were equated with the expression o f 10ve.53 In Helen Lewis's summary, "Nineteenth-century notio ns held women as naturally emotional and men as naturally rational."s4 This analysis would lead one to expect that the vocabulary and val­ ues of the women's maga zines would convey the " traditional " female values of "irrationality and emotionality. " Instead, the romantic dis­ courses of these maga zines promote utilitarian and therapeutic ethics consistent not only with the logic and values of the public sphere but also with feminist discourse of the last century. Fa r from encouraging an irrationally romantic view of love, many ninetee nth-century feminists promoted traditionally "mascul ine " values o f control, assertiveness, and more "rational," that is, utilitarian and contractual, forms of thinking.55 These discursive strategies continue to play a large role i n feminist

2.06

The

Business of Love

thought. By embracing "masculine" values of autonomy and instru­ mental reason and a contractual view of relationships, women have achieved a measure of equality in the ma le-dominated economic arena, a nd many women have transferred thi s discourse to the traditio nally " fe­ male " sphere of emotions in order to articulate their claims to equality i n this realm as well and to achieve power and control in relationships that too often have d i sempowered them.56 Similarly, therapeutic dis­ course makes ava ilable to women "masculine" values such a s rational self-criticism a nd tile capacity to know, control, and modify one's emo­ tions, abilities with obvious emancipatory potential. Anthony Gidde n s has recently defended a similar claim. Accordi ng to him, tile " pure relationship," in which two people are together for the sake of emotional intimacy and sexual fulfillment, is a contract similar to that at tile basis of the public, democratic sphere. The pure relation­ ship is predicated on the autonomy of the person, a pri nciple Giddens defines as the capacity " to deliberate, judge, choose and act upon dif­ ferent possible courses of action." S7 In the realm of personal life, such autonomy implies the freedom, based on self-knowledge, to choose the partner with whom one can further one's self-realization, a project to which therapeutic discourse has much to contribute. The principle of au­ to nomy entails open discussion about the respective rights and obliga­ tions of the partners, and the contract may be renegotiated or voided if the relationship is perceived as unfair or oppressive. As Giddens con­ vincingly puts it, rights and obligations are the stuff contemporary inti­ macy is made of. Thu s the pure relationsh i p is based on a communica­ tive rationality that assumes that two persons are eq ual to each other, can make claims about their need s, and base these claims on agreed-upon norms of equality and reciprocity. The rationalization of love points to emanci patory features, framing romantic relationships as equ itable contractual exchanges within which women can assert themselve s as equal partners. It has dangers as well, however. Women have long been regarded as the primary "caretakers" of romantic relationships and of the realm of feeling in general, and the tra nsfer of values from the realm of economic production to the private sphere may simply redefine thi s traditional function in terms of "work." Women could easily be at a disadvantage in using this discourse if all the work of rela tionship is seen a s their responsibility. This hypothesis re­ ceives partial confirmation in the present study: wome n are more likely to use metaphors of " work" when describing their relationships than men, who tend to view relationships in terms of .. play" a nd " relaxation."

Reason within Passion

2.0 7

Furthermore, the rationalized vocabulary of rights and obligations and needs may actually undermine the emotional bond it is meant to strengthen. This discourse is separated only by a fine line from a utili­ tarian ethos that makes of others only a mea ns to reach one's own sat­ isfaction or " self-realization." As Fromm observed, in this ethos " mod­ ern man has been transformed into a commodit y, e xperiences his life force s as an investment which must bring him the maximum profit obtainable under exi sting market conditions."58 In this conte xt, basing interpersonal relationships on principles of individual rights and a uton­ omy may infect them with the competitive self-intere st of the market. While it has played an important role in helping legitimate women's claims to self-realization a nd emancipation, this mix of utilitarian and democratic contractual ism can thu s undermine men and women's com­ mon search for a way to tra nscend their str uggle for power. Of equal concern, the p seudo-scientific self-reflexivity promoted by the therapeutic discourse may have "disenchanted" romantic love (in Weber's famous, poignant sense of the word ) by subjecting it to the neu­ tral and dispassionate gaze of reason. Undoubtedly, the rationalization of the romantic bond has broken many of our romantic idols and has substituted abstract norm s of reciprocity and equality for the mystical halo in which women and love had hitherto bathed.

C H A PTER 7

The Reasons for Passion " Could a nyone in the world b e more lovable than Miss Osmond ? " "No one, possibly. But love has no t h ing to do

with good reasons." "I don't agree with you. I'm delighted to have good reasons." "Of course you are. If you were really in love you wouldn't care a straw for them."

Henry James. The Portrait of a la d y

Romantic love, we are endlessly tol d by novelists, poets, and folk wi s­

dom, defies " good re a so ns. " The popular image of Cupid bl i ndly strik­ ing people with the arbitrary arrow s of love illustrates the notor i ous scorn of lo ve for reason. Mighty love defeats will, c on tro l , and ev en self­ interest . ! This experience has been aptly c a p tu r ed by Lawrence Durrell: "How man y times have you tried t o love t h e 'right' person in vain, even when y ou r heart knows it has found him after so m uch seeking? No, an eye l as h, a perfume, a haunti n g wa lk, a s tra w berry on the neck , the smell of almonds on the breath-the se are the accomplices the spirit see k s out to pl an your o v ert h ro w. " 2 Yet, despite our be wi l d e r i ng incapacity to fall in love with the " right " person and our frequent attraction to less de­ sirable mates, the contemporary sensibilit y is not ready to proclaim love an irrational, arbitrary, and uncontrollable pa ss i o n . Unlike Henry James's hero i ne , we care about "good rea son s" and call for explanations of w h en and why love arises or per si sts . As we have seen, the romantic sentiment has become a highly rational affa i r, an emoti on that we feel can and must be managed de l i ber ate ly and s k il l ful l y. In thi s chapter, I p ursue this line of inquiry by ex a mi n i ng the clai m made by economists and soc iolog i sts that marr i age , including t h e love marriage, is an im­ portant element in our strategies of soc i a l mobility and that m o st of us " spontaneously" love and marry people who are socially and eco­ nom ically comp at ib le with us. If corre ct, this claim sugge sts that love and marriage can be cau sal ly explained by the properties of rational eco­ nomic action : self-interest, calculation, we i ghi n g of costs and be ne fit s , and maximization of predefined utilities. �o8

The Reasons for Passion

2.0 9

The economists' claim that the romantic lover is a rat i o n al act or con­ tradicts one o f our m ost cherished and de ep - se ated beliefs, na me l y, that love is a res p o n se to i n effa ble, in e x p l icabl e, a n d u niq ue q u a l ities of an­ other pers on . Wr i ti ng to h e r l over Abe lar d, twelfth -ce ntu ry Heloise il­ lustrates this idea forcefu lly: " God knows, I have ever so ught in thee o nly thyse l f, desiring s i mply thee and not what was thine . " 3 1ndeed , Heloise's address to Abelard's i n ne rmost self intimates a l ove that our cultural sen ­ sibility recogni zes as i ndis pu ta bl y superior to the attachments described by s oci o l ogi sts and economists. Unless we assume that roma n tic l ov e is a n ideol og ical mask c once a ling rational self-interest and calculations, it is difficult to unders ta n d how such l ove conne cts with our strategies to maintain or increase our social positio n . In soc iologica l studies, love i s the mos t freq uen tl y cited reason for marriage , and this trend has ac tu a ll y accelerated with the inten s i ficat ion of the capita l i st labor market. A stu d y undertaken in the m i d - 1 9 6 0s by Will i am Kepha rt, for example, fo u nd that w ome n were s i gni ficant l y "less romantic" than men, tha t is, they were more likely to say they would marry someo ne whom th ey were n ot in love with but who had " all the other qualities [the y ) desired. "4 When th i s study was revis ite d some twenty years later, women were fo un d to have grown s igni fi cant l y more romantic and on t his sca le had closed the gap w ith men.5 The a u t h ors offered a n u m b er of rea so ns for this, the most im p ortant be ing women's entry into the work force : less de p e n dent on the institution o f marriage for their economic survival, women could now "afford " t o marry for purely romantic reasons. A similar ar gumen t has been mad e b y the his­ to ri an E dward Shorter, who, ta k i n g a macroscopic v iew of the change s un dergo ne by the Wester n family, observed that women's a ccess ro the labor market has emancipated ma rriage from its economic mission.6 In this view, then, it is the access to economic ind epend e nce pro v i ded by the market tha t frees roman tic attachmen ts from economic pragmatism. But instead of pro vi di ng an explanation , the idea that economic inde­ pende nc e frees passion from sel f- i n teres t is part of the p hen om e n o n need­ ing e x pl anation. Also contradicting the idea that a purely r omantic marriage prevails, an other ba ttery of sur vey s found that the choice of a marr i ag e partner involves considerations of statu s and presti ge . ? Even the more casual re­ l atio nship of dating a ppears to be based on s ta tu s and prestige. The well­ k nown 1 9 3 7 st u d y by Willard Waller found that amo n g col l ege students, dating was based on a highly c om pe titi ve system of strat ific a ti on in which stud en ts were rated a cc ord i ng to lo oks, po p u larity, membership

2. 1 0

The Business o f Love

in fraternity houses, and so on. According to Waller, dating i s a mecha­ nism of mate selection in which those who rank highest are the most de­ si red by everybody else.8 However much we believe love to be above considerations of social class, other findings suggest that romantic love does not fundamentally undermine class endogamy ( marriage between " likes " ) : m ost people marry members of their own class. Laumann's study of urban networks of solidarity found, for example, that 71 percent of all those surveyed married someone of their own class or of an adjacent class fraction. He also found that class endogamy was especially marked among the up­ per fractions of the middle class. More recently, Kalmijn found that ed­ ucation is an important factor in class endogamy. That is, college atten­ dance is a far better predictor of marriage than religion, ethnicity, or even income.9 One possible explanation for tbe coexistence of romantic and more practical motivations as competing norms for marriage is that people simply lie, to others and perhaps to themselves, and that marriage is in­ deed a matter of a careful weighing of the prospective partner's social standing and the "exchange" or "bargaining" of perceived qualities.lO But this thesis is counterintuitive and eludes what is at the center stage of cultural analysis, namely, that the social world is constituted and main­ tained through the active and willful choices of people who are at least somewhat aware and knowledgeable about the reasons for their actions. A more convincing explanation for these phenomena is that people do fall in love sincerely and disi nterestedly but they do so with the peo­ ple most readily available to them, namely, coworkers or neighbors. Since residences and workplaces tend to be segregated by social strata, people fall in love with people of their own class. Class is not a prerequisite of love. but people of the same class j ust " happen" to be most readily avail­ able. In this view, social reproduction is based not on individual deci­ sions but on the extrinsic conditions that structure the geographical and social distribution of encounters. This explanation problematically pre­ supposes that there are no connections between the meanings people at­ tribute to their actions and the outcomes of their actions, between a seem­ ingly irrational emotion and the patterned reproduction of social classes. The view I would like to defend is that the meanings people give their actions can and must explain some of the outcomes of those actions. In this chapter, I offer and discuss some tentative hypotheses in answer to these difficult questions. How do we come to love the personal qualities, rather than the market value, of our mates and yet make choices that are

The Reasons for Passion

2. 1 1

congruent with our social and economic positions ? Do we view the ob­ ject of our affection as a unique and irreplaceable entity o r as a set of at­ tributes that can be traded off, bargained, and compared? In other words, when faced with the prospect of making enduring choices, do people choose between two competing and ultimately irreconcilable forms of social relationships, one gratuitous, disinterested, and irrational (romantic love), the other self-interested, calculating, and rational (mar­ riage as a socioeconomic investment) ? Or is there rather a cultural mech­ anism that accounts for (and makes possible) the fact that the romantic sentiment carries, translates, and reproduces the social structure while simultaneously unleashing the disorderly passions of the heart?

AGAPIC AND ER O Sl e LOVE When examining the cultural and philosophical history o f love, i t ap­ pears that the romantic sentiment itself exhibits an antinomy similar to this sociological dilemma. In their normative attempt to decide what love ou gh t to be, philosophers have distinguished between " erosic " love, based on reason, and "agapic" love, which owes nothing to reason but is freely bestowed . I I Although traditionally a ssociated with Christian theology, agapic love has the attributes of the romantic passion: it is ir­ rational and inexplicably bestowed on someone. It cannot be grounded on the qualities of the person loved and therefore cannot be held ac­ countable. In the words of Roland Barthes, "I love the other not ac­ cording to his (accountable) qualities, but according to h is existence. What I liquidate in this movement is the very category of merit. " 1l Lov­ ing someone solely because of his or her existence is precisely what de­ fines agapic love, love bestowed on someone in virtue not of what she or he has but rather of what she or he is. This is the meaning we invoke when trying to explain why we do not fall in love with someone who has otherwise "all the required qualities. " Echoing Henry James on the "good reasons" of love, Robert Burch observed: "If you love someone, you cannot say, 'I love her because . . . ' referring to anything. If you can correctly give any reason for that tender attitude you have toward her, then that attitude you have is not love but something else, be it admira­ tion, respect, pity, selfish interest, or what not. " 13 But if love does not derive from reasons or causal principles, it is ineffable, incommunicable, and irreducible by the scrutiny of analysis. Another aspect of agapic love is that it is not motivated by the preser­ vation of one's own self-interest. We can love someone in defiance of our

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of Love

social or emotional interest. Agapic love, then, seems to belong to the domain of social bonds that Bataille identified as "waste," oriented to­ ward neither utility nor maximization of personal preferences but con­ sisting of the ostentatious and sacrificial consummation of self (fo r ex­ a mple, consummation of one's time, riches, personal values, and family or national loyalties.) Finally, a n additional aspect of agapic love is loss of self-control. Whatever our conscious decisions, love is beyond our monitoring or con­ trol. It spontaneously overflows the person. By contrast, erosic love is easy to clarify : it is causally explainable in the sense that it is gro u nd e d in identifiable properties of the person loved. The person in love is aware of his or her reasons and can enunciate them. Furthermore, love does not undermine one's social, moral, economic, or psychological welfare but on the contrary enhances it. Last , love can be released, stopped, or increased, according to rational appraisal and de­ cision. Although erosic love per se is not necessari l y sel f-interested or cal­ culated, it lends itself more readily to a view of love as rational and self· interested, for it has the cognitive properties of rationally induced emotions . 1 4 It certainly seems compatible with choosing to l ove some­ one from one's own class. However, as becomes clear in the analysis of my interviewees, agapic and erosic love do not line up in a simple-minded opposition between " rationality" and " irrationality, " or "interestedness" and "disinterest­ edness." As we know from Weber, rational ities are multiple and are to be explained by the properties of a given situation; " irrationality" ap­ pears to be so only from the standpoint of a conflicting rationality. Thus, while agapic and erosic love may seem to be analytically incompatible, they are sociologically reconciled in the practice of love. My interviewees draw as needed from the cultural repertoires of erosic and agapic love to account for different aspects and stages of their relationships and sen­ timents. This in turn implies that we cannot fi nd one-to-one correspon­ dences between properties of the romantic sentiment (say erosic) and strategies of social reproduction. Instead, we must understand irra­ tionality and rationa lity as coterminous properties of the romantic bond. Such an approach contradicts common sense and even conventional histories of love and marriage, which maintain that mechanisms of so­ cial reproduction and romantic attachment run on opposing principles, with capitalism witnessing the triumph of the latter. The triumph of the bourgeoisie based marriage on emotions rather than on economic re­ wards. However, although this ideology favored an emotionally fulfill-

The Reasons for Passion

ing love marriage over a socially advantageous alliance, lovers were not to follow the capricious whims of their hearts. As with economic reward, attachments to others were to be grounded in merit. The popular eighteenth-century novel by Samuel Richardson, Pamela, is a n example of the bourgeois idea that virtue si multaneously brings love and upward mobility: for her moral merit, the servant Pamela is loved and eventu­ ally wed by her master. But as Jane Austen's novels illustrate, in the bour­ geois ideology fortune and socia l status are the unintended results of love motivated by inner merit and character. 15 Social status and upward mo­ bility are seemingly accidental rewards, not conditions of love. In and of itself, the notion of merit was not new to the idea of love. In twelfth-century courtly love, both men and. women proved themselves worthy of love by their virtue. However, the courtly tradition was an aristocratic one: before factors of virtue, honor, or individual excellence, personal s uperiority was intrinsic in the fact of " noble" birth. The bour­ geois notion of merit presupposes that persons are sets of nameable, iden­ tifiable, and ultimately quantifiable properties, which can be compared to and traded for other attributes or persons with the purpose of match­ ing each individual's idiosyncratic personality and merit. In bourgeois meritocracy, love addresses neither the irreducible uniqueness of a per­ son, as in the Christian theology of aga pic love, nor the glorious mani­ festation of noble character. Instead, love is based on qualities that must correspond to and satisfy one's preferences and that potentially can be found in a number of individuals. The ideal of "personal compatibility " carries with it the ideas that people are comparable and exchangeable with one another and that love m ust satisfy some preesta bli shed prefer­ ences. Although the eighteenth-century bourgeois ideology forcefully distinguished between passions and interests, its notion of merit opened up the possibility of reducing people to a set of tradable assets. But even among the bourgeoisie, marriage remained in practice a fi­ nancial bargain until at least the end of the eighteenth century. 1 6 Ac­ cording to Jean-Louis Flandrin, the romantic view of marriage could not take hold until the structure of wealth and property changed. He has ar­ gued that the bourgeois, "emotional" conception of marriage was a lit­ erary fantasy that started shaping actual conjugal practices only when wealth became less a matter of land or other forms of real property and more one of cultural capital. Only then would the love marriage cease to threaten the social order. 1 7 Flandrin thus links the institutiona l­ ization of romantic love in marriage with the new centra lity of cultural capital, and so we would expect the love marriage to flourish in an age

2. 1 4

The Business of Love

of " postindustrial capitalism" based on information, expert knowledge, and "human capital" rather than on material property. According to Pierre Bourdieu, such society reproduces itself not through the monitored and conscious choices of economists' rational ac­ tors but through the invisible hand of "habitus." Habitus is a "matrix of perception, appreciations, and actions" acqu ired during socialization, slowly i nculcated and accumulated in the body and expressed in opin­ ions and aesthetic tastes and everyday, "micro" behaviors, such as table manners, accent or way of speaking, way of drinking wine, or aesthetic appreciation of a can opener. 1 8 Habitus is the ensemble of habits, ideas, and dispositions subjectively lived and communicated as personal iden­ tity and taste but obj ectively determined by position in the hierarchy of cultural and economic capital. Through habitus, people come to desire only what they can objectively have, thus "making a virtue of necessity. " Despite the functionalist overtones of the notion, ha bitus is neither static nor monolithic, for it also accounts for the ways in which particular individuals cope and "play" with the particular conditions of their life chances. Tha t is, two people of similar social positions will not necessarily maximize their capital in the same way because ther will mani­ fest a different habitus. Habitus, then, accounts for how a macroscopic process ( social reproduction) is sustained through the microscopically variable practices of individuals. Bourdieu's theory also accounts for the transformations of the structure of capital in late capitalist societies. By making cultural and educational capital central to the formation of habi­ tus and thus to social reproduction, Bourdieu incorporates within his the­ ory the historical transformation of the bases of social class, from tangi­ ble wealth to knowledge, credentials, and cultural taste. In Distinction, his now-classic study of French cultural practices, Bourdieu offhandedly remarks that the working of habitus is nowhere more apparent than in love, precisely because habitus allows people to experience romantic love as a spontaneous and free emotion while si­ multaneously assigning them partners who are compatible with their so­ cial positions and trajectories. People unconsciously and inadvertently harmonize their romantic desires with their objective chances to pair with others. As Bourdieu puts it, "a happy love, that is, a socially ap­ proved and success-bound love, [is] the same thing as arnOT fati, love of one's own social destiny, which brings together socially compatible part­ ners by way of free choice that is unpredictable and arbitrary in ap­ pearance only. " 1 9 Thus, Bourdieu implicitly suggests that the open sys­ tem of class stratification conceals what was previously oyert, namely,

215

The Reasons for Passion

the strategies and calculations to increase or maintain social standing through marriage. From Bourdieu's viewpoint, then, romantic and mari­ tal choices are made in a " market"; but unlike Gary Becker's " marriage market," Bourdieu's is neither voluntarist nor rational but instead oper­ ates through the spontaneous harmonization of people's desires and of their resources.20 Although people are not avowedly self-interested, are not conscious of the causes of their actions, and do not behave like ra­ tional actors, they nevenheless produce rational, self-interested out­ comes, choices of a mate consistent with their social and economic in­ terests. In short, people unconsciously want only what they can get. Like Weber, Bourdieu views social action as driven by interest, where interest is a general category that becomes sociologically operational only when articulated within panicular cultural worldviews. But despite its centrality in Bourdieu's cultural theory, the notion of self-interest has re­ mained undefined, partly because the theory stipulates that the concept must be specified according to the field under study. The politica l econo­ mist Albert o. Hirschman, however, has offered a definition of self­ interest suited to the kind of noneconomic behavior that occupies us here. For him, interest is defined by two features_ The first is self-centeredness: "the predominant attention of the actor to the consequences of any con­ templated action for himself. " The second is rational calculation: "a sys­ tematic attempt at evaluating prospective costs, benefits, satisfactions, and the like. " The first aspect pertains to a personality orientation, while the second deals with the cognitive style of a self-interested action.2 1 A

V E RY R E A S O N A B L E

MADNESS

As Bourdieu would have warranted, the antinomy between emotion and social reproduction is analyzed here in the context of an empirical so­ ciology of cultural practices. The question of how romantic relation­ ships and sentiments are initiated by one's habitus can be answered only by examining the cognitive categories used by people to explain how and why each came to love someone, to stop loving someone, or to re­ ject someone. The " merit" looked for in a partner is twofold. First, the other per­ son must conform to some abstract standard of excellence based on aes­ thetic, moral, and intellectual criteria: the other person must be " at­ tractive," and "intelligent," and occasionally " good." Second, the partner be " compatible." The last requirement is so well rooted in popu­ lar conceptions of love that much of the self-help literature revolves

The Business of Love

216

around the crucial pro b le m of deci d ing whether someone is truly com­ p at ib le with oneself. For e x ample , in the popular self-help book If I Am So Wonderful, Why Am I Still Single?, Susan Page p rov id es a series of experiments d es i gne d to help the reader ac h ieve th e go a l of meeting not just any ma t e but the right mate: E X P ER I M ENT # 6

a . On paper, describe your ideal mate. List all the qualities, talents, propen­ sities rou'd like him or her to have. "Brainstorm " with yo u rself. Take your time and include everything. There is no need to he "realistic . " Don't censor. b. Now go back over your list and place either "E" for essential or a "D" for de si rable next to each item. c. List all the " E " qualities on a separate page in the order of their impor­ tance to you. d. Draw a line under the top 5 items on the "E" list." EX P E R I M EN T

#8

If you are trying to evaluate a spec ific relationship, whether new or of long duration, one or more of the following may be useful for you: I. How does your partner measure up to the top five items on your essen­ tials list? ( see Experi ment #6). 2 . Write down your long-range life goals. I f you could have everything you want, what would you most like your life to look like in five years? In ten? In twenty? Will staying with this partner help you to achieve these goals? Will staying with this partner keep you from achieving these goals? (If you aren't at all certain what your long-range goals a re, think about your immediate goals, your present life. Is this partner helping or hindering you from having the life you want now?) 3. List all the qualities you like about your partner. Now list all your a reas of dissatisfaction with him or her. Now, on both lists, put a 5 next to your extreme likes and dislikes, a 3 next to your medium-level likes and dislikes,

and a I next to your mild likes and dislikes. Finally, rewrite the list in order with 55 on the top and I S on the bottom. Which list is longer ? Which total score is higher ?22

The a p pr oach to love advocated he r e is clea r ly erosic. It invites people to conceive of themselves an d others as a collection of dis c rete, identifi­ able pos it iv e or negative attributes that c an be matched against one's own pe rs onal ity and u lti mate ly e xch a n ged with t hos e of others. Such a view of romantic relationships d em an d s t hat o ne scrutinize and clari fy one's own p re ferences, tastes, an d life orientations and choose a partner

2]7

The Reasons for Passion

according to these factors. As we began to see in the preceding chapter, this approach is rational to the extent that it adheres to the ideas that the self is purposive and goal-directed, that life is organized and moni­ tored according to a preconceived " life-plan," and that the romantic re­ lationship should be integrated within this plan. The emphasis on the ideal of c om patibility stems from the widespread idea that romantic love must precede the decision to share life with another, in contrast to the belief of traditional societies that both compatibility and love emerge only after the couple has shared life together.H Thus, paradoxically, the insistence that love precede marriage makes the romantic bond more likely to be rational, as it puts pressure on the person to find, choose, and love a " compatible" partner. It is difficult to judge the validity of such "experiments" as indicators of actual practices, hut they do suggest that an important segment of our society, the middle class, subscribes to and forcefully promotes a rational approach to romantic relationships, basing choices on a careful analysis of one's own personality attributes in order to satisfy one's needs and goals. Asked whether they were looking for specific attributes in the other per­ son and, if so, for which ones, most respondents answered by referring to personality and moral attributes. With varying degrees of articulateness, many respondents spelled out a set of "desirable qualities." Many seemed to have already thought about these questions and answered them with ease, invariably offering a list of good reasons to choose an imaginary "ideal partner." Furthermore, respondents weighed and evaluated their partners' assets and drawbacks. For example, a married woman told me about her encounter with her husband, some fifteen years earlier: Was

it love at first sight?

really know. I am such a rea list, it could have been love at first sigh t but I always tend to weigh off things, I wo n t let my sel f just go like that. Se e I m e t him in a very unusual situation, I was definitely very very at­ tracted to him when I first met him b ut I don't really k n o w that it was, uhI don't

'

,

When you say you are "such a realist, " what do you mean? Well, I a m . I think about t h i n g s ; I weigh th i ng s out and whether or n o t . . . . Well, my husband is younger than me, so t hat was a very bi g factor so I wou ld try to hold back my feelings because of the fact he was younger th a n me. I guess I wa s trying to check myself. (Homemaker, interview 1 7 )

" Realist" i s opposed to romantic and is apparently a synonym for "ra­ tional " or " practical . " By her own admission, this woman was able to

The Bus iness of Love

2. 1 8

keep her feelings in check and release them only when she had come to the rational conclusion that her partner's age would not pose a problem to their relationship. Thus, the idea of compatibility, incessantly put forward by popular cul­ ture, demands that one be aware of one's needs and preferences and then evaluate another person accordingly. Where premodern calculative ratio­ nality stressed the economic and social assets of the person and was often voiced by parents rather than by the person in love, contemporary roman­ tic rationality claims to apply only to the personal qualities of the prospec­ tive partner. [n contemporary culture, rationality is psychological rather than economic and is borne by individuals themselves rather than by for­ mal agencies of mate selection. Consider another example from my inter­ views. A fema le artist explained what happens when she meets somebody she is "interested in." " So you want to know something about him, I think. What he does for a living. What his interests are. That he's interested in you. Why he is interested in you . . . . Usually you find out about their back­ ground. It's like having references" (artist, interview 3 5 ) . Clearly, for this woman knowledge of the other person's interests, motives, and history should precede, or at least accompany, the romantic sentiment. She uses a comparison with the workplace ( "it's like having references" ) to evoke the process of gathering information in order to the costs of incompatibility. From their accounts of past relationships or choice of partner, many i f not most of the respondents engaged in the process of weighing posi­ tive or negative attributes in order to maximize satisfaction. Few re­ spondents evoked an agapic view of love but instead conspicuously en­ gaged in the process of naming, ranking, and weighing personality attributes. Such an attitude was cogently summariz.ed by one respondent, a thirty-five year-old single male who expressed the desire to be in a long­ standing relationship and explained his and others' difficulties in com­ mitting themselves. I thi n k that people are hesitant to give up their freedom and their indepen­ dence unless they are absolutely sure it is going to work, it is a lack of faith. K I will be with you n ow, but if somebody better comes a long, that will be it."

"Somebody better. "

Somebody better. What is "somebody better "? Somebody who is willing to give me more what I need than you are. (Male

actor, college education, interview 2.9 )

The Reasons for Passion

2. 1 9

At the center of this psychological voca bulary of " n eeds " is the mo­ tive of self-i nterest. The rational assessment of personal attributes has clear economic overtones, for it is used to shop in the super­ market of relationships for the partner most likely to satisfy personal preferences. That such an approach is culturally and historically specific can be il­ lustrated by the contrast with one of Proust's early short stories, written at the turn of the century. A woman of great distinction has fallen in love with a man who is intellectually, morally, physically, and socially her in­ ferior. The narrator states that "if she had loved [him] for his beauty or for his wit, then one could have looked for a brighter or more handsome young man. If it had been his goodness or his love for her that had bound her to him, then another one might have tried to love her more faithfully. But Mr. de Laleande is neither handsome nor intelligent. He did not have the opportunity to prove to her if he is tender or tough, neglectful or faith­ ful. . . . It is therefore him she loves and not the merits or charms that could be found i n others. It is him she loves despite his imperfections, de­ spite his mediocrity. She is destined to love him, after all." 24 In this story, love addresses someone's unique individuality and not his merits; for mer­ its are interch angeable, while the person is not. Clearly, such an approach negates the possibility that love is contingent on psychological, cultural, or social "utilities" and skirts the very ideal of compatibility. Love is here bestowed arbitrarily and even against the self-interest of the lover. Although such a view of love was virtually nonexistent in the mid­ dle-class and upper-middle-class respondents in my sample, it was pre­ sent i n somewhat di fferent form among the working-class men. They were the most likely to view story 2. ( the whirlwind roma nce; see chap­ ter 5) as the one closest to their real-life experience, and they had dif­ ficulty explaining the origins of thei r own past romantic a ttachments. The qual ity most often invoked to explain how and why their feeli ngs started was " looks," which explains sexual attraction but hardly im­ plies an ela borate weighing of needs and preferences against assets and liabilities. As Kephart found, men are more likely than women to hold a romantic view of relationships.25 My interviews suggest that this trend is even more pronounced among working-class men than among middle-class men. Although they subscribed to the romantic view, the latter nevertheless held to a detai led script of the qualities sought in a partner, whereas the former filled thi s script with very few attrib­ utes and instead usually " followed their hearts " or their " i mpulse. " Furthermore, middle- and upper-middle-class respondents subscri bed

2. 20

The Business of Love

to the widespread ethos that love is a merit-based emotion, grounded on ( real or imaginary ) properties of the other person that must satisfy utilitarian criteria of sel f-sat isfaction. This ethos was virtually a bsent from the responses of working-class men. At this point I venture a n hypothesis: an agapic conception of love is more likely to be encountered among those for whom marriage does not represent a significant asset in their social position or strategy of mobil­ ity. These individuals a re the most likely to approach love as unpre­ dictable and unaccounta ble whims of the heart. By contrast, the people most likely to use the rational conceptions of love promoted by popular culture are upwardly mobile and concerned about maintaining and maximizing their social status. This would explain why the m iddle-class and upper-middle-class respondents, women especia lly, among my interviewees held very detailed scripts of their partners' desirable attrib­ utes. But w hich attributes qualify or disqualify someone as a potential partner, and how do they connect to social position? Trying to u nderstand the process by which people define someone as "worthy " or " unworthy" and its relation to the process of social reproduction, Michele Lamont suggests that we distinguish among three categories of symbolic boundary: moral, socioeconomic, and c ultura l . Lamont criticizes Bourdieu for making cultural boundaries a priori centra l to social identity and to the formation of social bonds and for not i dentifying inductively the people's actual definitions of worth. By contrast, she suggests, for example, that moral bound­ a ries�valuations based on moral attributes s uch as honesty, gen­ erosity, "goodness "-are a lso, like money or cultural taste, important determinants of a person's informal network of friends.26 Lamont's argument can be enlisted in support of the view that some social interactions evade the self-interested mechanism of social reproduc­ tion. If people choose others on the basis of persona l moral merit rather than social assets, this implies that soci a l reproduction, dis­ tinction, and exclusion are not the only mechanisms a t work in the formation of social bonds. To clarify the connection o f love and so­ cial reproduction, we will examine the role of Lamont's three types of boundary in the eval uation of potential romantic partners.

S O C IO E C O N O MIC B O U N D A R I E S When asked t o address the issue explicitly, most respondents vehemently rejected the notion that they would choose someone for his or her social

Th e Re a s ons for P assi o n

2. 2. 1

and economic assets , frequently referrin g to the sacrosanct norm that money and sentiment are distinct categories. Some of the res pon d e n ts even invoked the classic stereotype that m on ey s p oi ls senti ment as it brings boredom and dissension to the couple. Self-interest was dis­ a vowed in fa vor of the implicit model of a disinterested, organic, and gratuitous bond. Belief in romantic love is apparently sustained by a be ­ lief in its disinterestedness. Despite the pressure exerted by this residual norm to d isavow self­ interest, we can app roach mo re o bliqu e ly the role of socioeconomic values in romantic relationships. When revie wi n g the reasons behind dis­ putes or rejection, some re spon de n ts , men es peciall y, denounced the way th ey had felt evaluated accor d i ng to a monetary scale, s omethi ng t h ey resented and felt diminished their sense of self-worth. One m ale re­ spondent distinguished between love and affectio n by observing that love has an " irrational side to it," while "affection is based on very solid rea­ sons . " He suggested that in order to get married, he would like to have the " e y e s meet" an d a "little magic." Words such as " magic," " spark," and " mystical si de " are threads of the emotional and cultural fabric that supports love without the need for reasons or e x p l ana ti o n s . When a sked why his most lo ng -lasti ng and meaningfu l r e l a tio n sh ip ended, however, the same ma n exp laine d th at m on e y pla ye d a significant ro le in the breakup. His g irl frie n d , a frequ e nt ly un employed actress, expected him to provide for he r, something he was not willing to do on his limited salary because of his desire to save money. This expectation subsequ e ntl y ki nd led te nsi o ns , r e s e n tmen t , a n d u l tim atel y se para tio n ( p h ysicia n , in­

terview 8 ) . A distributor of noncom mercial films, also with a limited income, viewed his prospects of finding a mate as follows:

Do YOIi feel that money is important for love? 1'\0. I me an , I think no, I don't. The answer is no. Bu t money is important fo r the a bi l ity of a re l ati ons h i p to endure I think. What do ),ou mean? Beca use, for example, someone my age, a woman my age in New York, certainly, would p ro babl y not be very serious about starting a relationship with s o m ebod y who didn't have any money or wasn't likely to have any money in the near future. Th a t is, they w o u l d be concerned about their eco­ nomic security, the ir economic well-being in the future, and perhaps rightly

so. ( Male movie distributor, col lege educati on, interview 3 4 ) .

2. 2 2.

The Business of Love

This man found himself caught in an uncomforta ble social position, one in which he readily pe rc e ived what was at stake in his market of rela­ tionships: his relatively high cultural competence put him in the position of meeting professional women, but, with his low income, he was at a competitive d isadvantage in finding a mate of h is own status. He moved unhappily between the norm that money should not be important for love and his resignation at not being wealthy e n o ugh to offer a prospec­ tive partner economic security. Echoing the disenchantment of this man, an actor with a low-to­ average income declared that money did not play any role in his romantic relationships, but then added angrily that for certain people money plays a very important important role:

Do you know people like that, who would not fall in love with you if you don 't have money? Yes, I just went out with a gi rl who has a lot of money from c o mme rci a ls She di d n t fall in love because I didn't have money but she, uh, after she broke up with me she said, "I d idn't feel we we re dating a n ywa y and 1 said "Why ? " She sa id "Well you on ly pa i d for me once, " and I said "That's a philosophy that I don't subscribe to and I won't be i nti mid a te d by. " .

'

"

What did she mean? She meant that if we were r ea l l y serious about be ing boyfrie n d and girl­ friend, I would pa y for her all the time. Even t h o ugh she has m or e money than 1 do, and 1 am not that poor, b ut I felt like what s h e was revealing to me was, if you couldn't pay for her, sh e wasn't i n te reste d I think this is wha t she was s a y i n g to me. ( Male actor, college education, i n terv iew 2.9 ) .

This story points up the ambiguous meaning of money in romantic rela­ tionships. The woman's equation of " paying" with " being serious" is not necessarily proof of her crude self-interest but may indicate that, ironi­ cally, she confers on mon e y emotional ra the r than economic s ignificance. The ostentatious spending of money on a date is a display of social sta­ tus, but it can also be taken as a "sacrificial" and voluntary waste of goods for the purpose of creating and expressing romantic sol ida rity and commitment. The display of money as a sign of social power is articu­ lated in terms of the moral economy of waste in w hich the strength of attachment is measured by w i l l ingness to give up wealth. Pushing the separation of passion and interest to its end, however, my interviewee suspected that the moral economy of waste implicitly invoked by the woman gave voice to the less honorable morality of self- interest, of which he felt a victim. Opposing the self-interested evaluation of economic as-

The Reasons for Passion

22. 3

sets, the man insisted that women assume an equal share of the cost for dating, thus stripping money of its ritual and sacrificial meaning and le­ gitimating the norms of equitable exchange at work in the market. An economically more secure male respondent expressed greater re­ sentment about the fact that women expected him to pay for dates. What would be unromantic to you ? What would be a put-off? One of the things that puts me off- bu t I think this is my own problem. I of­ ten have problems a bout money in that [ feel like there should be some type of m utu ali ty about it. [t's partially my problem , I think about it more than I should , I know that, b u t what puts me off, not so much on a first date but over a period of time, if a woma n assumes that, for some reaso n , m aybe she gets the impression that [ am total ly loaded or maybe because of the differ­ ent ro le s that we a re supposed to play, tbat the man, that whenever we go out, I am s upposed to pay for everything, she feels that it's not her area, that's s om ething I find o ff- puttin g . ( Male co rporate banker, gr a d uate e d u ca t ion, interview 10) ­

This man, like the previous one, resented what he perce ived to be women's "testing" of his financial power via date expenditures. But even though these complaints were formulated in the name of the " legitimate" norm of equality, these men still revealed embarrassment and felt compelled to jus­ tify themselves for demanding financial reciprocity. Their embarrassment stemmed less from their evasion of the traditional male role than from their departure from the expectation that love must transcend economic con­ siderations. On the other hand, their resentment at being evaluated on their ability to pay for dates can be traced to their perceptions that they were " rated" against a market value and did not score highly enough . In my sample , three of the five men advocating that romantic rela­ tionships should satisfy the rules of equitable exchange were in artistic professions. Their fluctuating incomes and professional and economic insecurity made it likely that they competed with men of h igher and more reliable incomes for the sa me women. Resisting downward mobility, these men wanted to meet women with cultural and educational assets comparable to theirs, yet their low rank on the income scale put them at a disadvantage vis-a-vis other potential competitors. Their insecurity paired with their instability made them particu larly prone to denounce, with varying degrees of re signation and resentment, the value of the male's economic secu rity, stability, and capacity to " provide for the woman." As Bourdieu found in the domain of art, people on the mar­ gins of a field are the most likely to denounce what is at stake in it.

The Business of Love

The connection between uncertain socioeconomic status and percep­ tions of being treated as tradable goods might be further supported by the fact that in my sample these anxieties and resentments were never voiced by working-class men who subscribed more readily to the norm that men " pay for the date" and had not adopted the egalitarian ethos characteris­ tic of higher socioeconomic brackets. According to Bourdieu, working­ class males derive a positive sense of identity from their domination over women. Hence, the same financial security dema nded of women by these middle-class men can pose a threat to working-class m en Indeed, the con­ trast between the previous accounts and the following is striking: .

Do you think that money is important for love? No I don't th ink that money is important for love.

Do you think that money can make love better and easier? It can , but money isn't important for love as far as, I don t think that should be your first, uh, the first thing you notice in someone, I d on t think that s ho u ld be someone's ma i n inte res t. '

'

Do you think that lack of money can bring problems? A lot of arguments and fightings. It can also b r in g jealousy.

Have you seen that around you ? Yes.

Who? Myself. I am in a better job than my ex-fiance . I have more things. I have a car, he doesn't. Things like that. And he became very jealous beca use I wa s very successful and he was n t . '

What kind of ;ob does he do? He is a file derk for a law firm, terview I S ) .

a m

es se n ge r. ( Female l egal secretary, in­

I n i ro n ic counterpoint to the preceding examples, this woman's profes­ sional and financial success caused her lover so much jealousy that she eventually broke off the relationship. This account indirectly supports the claim that for the working cl asses, the morality of e q uita b le exchange is far less prominent than among middle-class men, because the sacrifi­ cial waste of money usually per formed by the working-class male sus­ tains and is sustained by his domination over the woman. On the basis of these and other examples, I ve n ture another hypoth­ esis: the den u n c i a t i on of the economic stakes of romantic relationships

The Reasons for Passion

is expressed in the egalitarian morality of exchange by men whose so­ cial position is insecure, who fea r downward mobility, and who com­ pete with men of superior economic status for the same women. Simi­ larly, those attempting upward m obility through marriage might be more prone to acknowledge the economic considerations and carefully mon­ itor their romantic interactions. This might explain, for example, why women are more likely than men to acknowledge self-interest in their choices and to use the rational logic of bargaining: because women are still in a more precarious economic position than men and remain more dependent o n marriage for social status, they are more likely to try to control their position in this relationship by drawing on the rational cul­ tural repertoire of love. In my sample there were four such people, three women and one man, who feared downward mobility and admitted that economic stability had been or would be important in their choice of a m ate. All three women explicitly cited money as an important criterion in selecting a mate, as illustrated by this middle-class womanP Do you think that money is impo rtant for love? It is in a way, because when I th ink of the k ind of guy I would like to marry, he has to be making a liv ing, a nice living. The nicer the better, I have to admit it. I don't like to tell everybody that because it makes me sound like a materialistic person and, I just think it is nice, l ike a girl a t work the other day said she knew a guy w h o was single and would I like to meet him, and he was a carpenter, and he's like an apprentice, a carpenter's apprentice, and without even wanting to learn about the guy I said " No thanks . " (Female advertising designer, college education, in· terview 3 0)

This woman behaved like a rational economic actor. Not only did she attach to the potential partner an " i ndex" of economic value but her financial preferences determined i n advance whether she would be willing even to meet a potential partner. Despite her forthright­ ness, she was apologetic and aware that she broke the norm of disinterestedness. When respondents acknowledged a rational, self-interested approach to choosing a partner. they usually also showed signs of d iscomfort and felt the need to do face-saving work . A freelance cameraman with a low and irregular income "con fessed " only after the interview was over that he wanted to meet a "strong, independent woman, with lots of money, who would not depend on me fo r anything. " He said this in a joking

The Business of Love

116

tone, as if to underplay his breach of the norm of disinterestedness. His economic insecurity and the ethos of self-determination demanded by his freelance work are mirrored in his insistence that his partner be " in­ depe ndent " and able to provide for herself. In a less apologetic style, a working-class woman said the follo wi ng:

Would you have married someone (other less money?

than

you husband) who has

No.

Why? Because I like my lifestyle a nd I am very comfortable with it a nd I co ul d n't see myself h a v i n g less tha n I have now. I would never be happy. (Female ho m e ma ke r, high school education, interview 28) As a final example of the rational, self-interested approach, I cite a woman, an artist, who had married an extremely wealthy man. When the interview ended, I asked her for her impressions of the interview.

Did you find

my

questions difficult to answer?

No, but I felt bad, I felt bad to s a y, well, it was n 't just that I was m adl y in love with t he person I married. There we re a lot of other considerations and ma ybe I should be the kind of person, you know, l ike the story number one, just to know ri ght away on the bus and get married and that's that, in­ s te a d of thinking it through, what I wanted.

And that's bad? Well, because it's not romantic. It's , I feel l i ke , in picking a partner, I th i n k I was much mo re, ah, conscious o f what it was I w an ted and I did not, ah, it was not, ah, i t was much m o re conscious thing. I knew w ha t I w a nted anp ] was going to stay on co u rse . I wasn't go i ng to fall for, ah, I don't know, I wa sn 't going [0 fa l l for men, I was just, love at first si ght kind of thing or attra cti o n, I wa s j ust going to wai t beyond that, I was a little b it cyn ic a l about it. C)'nicaI.

Yeah

To get what you want is to be cynical. Yeah, cynical is th a t I just didn't trust my feel ings this time a ro u nd . I didn't trust my feel i ngs and I thi n k in r om a n t ic love you just know you're in l ove . This is it. And I didn't go about it that way a nd I w a s much m ore, i n a w ay, I was much more calculating. I d i d n 't trust my feelings. I just, I thought I'm goi ng to wait and see how I feel later abo ut this, and, ah I'm not in a hurry.

The Reasons for Passion And you didn't like

saying that during the interview?

Yeah, it doesn't go along with the magazine ads of what it should be like. I felt much more, a lmost like I was bu y i ng a hou se or s ometh i ng , that I was re­ ally looking at the whole thing and I wasn't going to be very impulsive about it a nd I p l an ned not to be impulsive a bout it. I wasn't out to change my whole life or have somebody who was going to turn everything I have ever thou gh t around. I wasn't looking for somebody like that. (Female artist, interview 3 5 )

As a n artist, this woman was economically insecure and consciously chose a partner who would enable her to devote herself to her art with­ out the worries of survival. Her behavior e xemplifies that of the rational economic agent; she m a x i m i zed p re fe r e n ces (at the ti me her artistic work) and traded passion for economic security. The woman compared her choice wi th " buy ing a h ouse " and insisted that she did not let her feel­ ings control her decision making in order to evaluate "the whole th i n g . " But here also she was apologetic and appeared embarrassed b y her be­ ha vior. To behave in a ra t i ona l , calculated, and self-interested fashion was highly inappropriate, for, as she said, such behavior is traditionally opposed to the ideal of love as irrational and disinterested. In this ap­ pro a ch to love, one does not think; rather one j ust " knows " that t h i s is i t . In other words, she dismissed the e con o m i c rationality of her behav­ ior by contrasting it with a form of love that is organic, imm ed i a te, and based n ot on reasoning but on an intuitive grasp of one's emotions. Thus, despite the strong norm of disinterestedness and the sacrosanct separation of money and sentiment that pervaded most answers, some of the respondents, anxious about social mobility and economic secu­ rity, a rticulated most clearly the rational process of ch oos in g others. Whether they eva luated others or felt eval uated by others according to "economic value," these respondents offered cogent ex am ples of a self­ interested r a ti onality. M O R A L AND PERS O N ALITY BOUNDA RIES The fact rema ins, however, that most peo pl e do not admit that economic considerations and strategic thinking are central to their choices. While our culture endorses rational choice based on moral or personal qu a l i ­ ties, it forcefully denies the legitimacy of such a choice based on socioe­ conomic factors. In If I 'm So Wonderful, Why Am I Still Single? it was suggested that qu a l i ties such as "thoughtfu l ness, generosity, self­ ass u ra nc e, physical warmth, sexiness, and the ab i l i ty to listen and to express affection are more important than things like social status. " 2 8 In

2. 2.8

The Business of Love

my interviews, when asked to describe their "ideal mate," educated mid­ dle-class respondents made many more demands in regard to intellec­ tual qualities and cultural compatibility than did their working-class counterparts. They demanded that their mates be " intelligent," "thoughtful," "communicative," "original," "creative, " "interesting," that they have "curiosity, " "the same ideas," "the same values," "the same lifestyle" -qualities related in one way or another to familiarity with the forms of cultural capital. While working-class respondents did speak about "being able to share ideas" or "explore new things to­ gether, » they never mentioned being interesting, creativity, or even cu­ riosity as necessary or important criteria in selecting a mate. Working­ class respondents ( mostly women) instead used a vocabulary with heavily moral overtones. Besides a high school education, they wanted their " ideal partner " to be "considerate," "honest," " dependable," " sta­ ble." These were not virtues such as charity or loving-kindness but rather qualities a mate needed in order to be a reliable provider and parent, to value work discipline, and to keep within the boundaries of legality.29 This emphasis of working-class respondents reflects the relatively greater financial insecurity of working-class households. In contrast, because they already had security and stability, middle- and upper-middle-class respondents made many more demands on the personality characteris­ tics of their partners and used cultural or aesthetic criteria to evaluate them.30 This was elucidated a contrario in responses professing indifference to formal education. These interviewees claimed that qualities such as " i ntelligence" and "ability to discuss ideas" express another person's personality and worth better than education does and are more im­ portant than education per se. Listen, for example, to a woman whose father and husband are both tenured professors at prestigious uni­ versities and who was herself educated at an equally prestigious pri­ vate school: Would you ma rry someone who was much les s educated than you? I don't care about the credentials of an educated person, I just care that the person has an interest and curiosity about the world. And if they do, if they read and look into things, then we have something in common. But if somebody has no interest in reading, I would have a hard time having a re­ lationship with this person because literature and books and ideas are very important to me and I wouldn't be able to talk about something very im­ portant to me. ( Artist, interview 1 3 )

The Reasons for Passion

2 29

Although this woman discounted the importance o f formal education, she attached a great dea l of impo r t ance to activities us u al ly associated with high educ a tional competence. Ta lking, read i ng, going to art gal­ leries, s haring i deas about art and politics, these co n stit ute the habitus of those who have attended universities and c onsider "culture " to be an integral part of their i dent ities. Because these activities seem gratuitous and divorced from the social benefits at stake in t hem, this respon dent saved the appea rance of disinterestedness. She converted cultural ca p i­ tal into a personal quality such as "curiosity" or an act ivity such as the "sharing o f i deas. " The fol l owing exam ple is the kind of answer never given by working­ class resp o ndents: What is your ideal mate? It would have to be somebody with interests and beliefs that I share. Be­ cause I don 't think that among two people th at are involved, intellectual or political di sagreement should be a source of conflict. There are plenty sources of conflict and that one may as well not be there! Somebody who enjoys similar recreations, like good music, films, things like that. I would hope that the person would be very warm and understanding. (Male Ph.D. student, interview 24)

This response eloquently illustrates th at fo r p eop le in the most edu­ cated brackets, " moral " attributes are so intertwined with cultural ones as to be hardly distinguishable. " Wa rm t h " goes with " unde r­ standing," which refers to t he a b i l ity to s ha re th e complex and so­ phist icated tastes and opinions that form the basis of these re sp on­ dents' social i d entity. Acquired intel lectual q u a l itie s t ha t have eve ry thing to do with educational capital are converted into intrinsic p er son a l , m ora l qua l i tie s . The moral qualities ex pec ted in a partner are thus grounded in peo­ ple's di ffe r ing life conditions, working-class em ph a s is on reliabi l i ty and u pper- mi dd le c l ass emp h asis on c uriosity a nd taste. These findings ap­ pear to contra d ict Lamont's contention t h at moral bounda r ies are au­ tonomou s in rel a tion to eco n o m ic or cultural ones. A lth ou gh we both fou nd th at c u l tu ral s peciali s ts a re m ore likely to u se cultural boundaries to choose th ei r a s s oc iates , I would suggest that moral boundaries are subordinate to respondents ' relative sense of economic security or the im po rt ance of e ducation. In ot h e r words, as cri teria for rom a nce or friendship, moral, economic, and cultural boundaries are distinguised

2. 3 0

The Business of Love

o nl y fuzz i l y. 3 ! Th e fo l lo w i ng section will show even more c le a r l y that for middle- and upper-middle-class r es po n de n t s moral attributes a re im­ p li c itly gro u n ded in educationa l and cultural ca p i ta l .

E D U CAT I O N A L A N D C U LT U R A L B O UN D A R I E S When asked i f they would ma rry some on e less educated than themsel ve s , w o rk i ng -cla s s men said on l y occ a si o nal l y that education was not im ­ portant, but more than half of the upper-middle-class r e spo nde nt s and all the w orking-c la ss w om e n s ai d th e y would not marry s uc h a person. Cl e a rl y, e d uc a ti on is considered necessary in a partner. It is e x pl ic i tl y ac­ knowledged as a p re fe r e nce and appears to i nfr i nge on the norm of dis­ interestedness less th an money does. In contrast to economic c a p i tal, ed­ ucation is more readily v iewe d as reflecting perso na l characteristics ( such as in te l l i ge nc e or perseverance) and, when d i recti n g romantic choices, is the refore mor e l i k e l y to be converted into moral a ttributes that are c o n­ gruent with the norm of di si nte re s ted n e ss . As B o u rd i e u writes: "Practice n e ver ceases to conform to eco n o mic calculation even when it gives every appe a r a nc e of disi nt ere s tedn e ss by de p ar t i ng from the l og ic of i n te re ste d calculation (in the narrow sense) and playing fo r stakes that are non­ material and not e as i ly quantified. " 32 The importance of cultural ca p i t al is also s ee n in res po n den t s ' ac­ counts of how re l a t i o n s h ip s ended. A woman la w ye r who had at­ tended two of the top law schools in the coun tr y but who d id not want to be la be led with " Ivy League" s te re o ty p es (she came from the lower segments of the middle class) spent t h r e e years with a m a n who had no formal ed ucat i on a nd w ho s e main p r o fe ss iona l activity was hunting. She e v e n tu all y ended this re l a ti o n sh i p on the gro u n d s that the man wa s n ot " communicative e n o u gh , " and she later married a successful graphic de s i gn er with an income and education similar to hers as we l l as a p re d i l ection for the " u nconventional" l i fe s tyle she was l oo ki n g for. Ano t he r p ro fe ssi onal woman, a gr a p h i c des i gn er working in adver­ tising, somewhat downwardly mobile, e xp ressed a d is taste for "educated nerds" in favor of " real masculine men . " Sh e went out for a few years w i t h a "pizza guy" but e v en t u ally broke off the rel at i o n s hi p on the grounds that, si nce she didn't intend to marry a " p izza guy," the rela­ t ion sh i p "was not going anywhere. " Trying to ex pl a i n why he b roke up with a woman who had all the "objective qualities to be an ideal partner, " a third respondent, a thirty-

The Reasons for Passion

year-old music conductor, said that he could not fall in love with her be­ cause "I need a mystical s ide which I can't explain. " The same man, how­ ever, was very clear in the qualities he wanted in a partner. For him, the ideal mate was " someone who has a certain decorum, a certain refine­ ment, it's very hard to find the combination. Either people tend to be very open and I think a little gaudy, a little bad taste, or they tend to be very refined but boring" ( music conductor, interview 3 3 ) . Drawing from the agapic cultural repertoire of love, this musician required a " mysti­ cal" feeling to fall in love, yet he could a rticulate the specific attributes of the "ideal partner" and point to trade-offs in different qualities. His vocabulary was unambiguously aesthetic; he expressly disqualified the "vulgar" manners of "too open" people and made " refinement"-the ultimate attribute of class distinction-the key characteristic of his ideal partner. In contrast to the other respondents, this man did not engage in the script of "good reasons." His mystical love instead relied on the tacit recognition of invisible cultural attributes. A final example of the importance of cultural capital was provided by a woman who had dropped out of college and was about to enroll in a police academy at the time of the interview. She had been in a relation­ ship that seemed to be leading to marriage but ultimately ended. She re­ called thei r dating: We liked to read together, we li ke d to read a lot, listen to music, sight­ seeing, j ust taking walks, not too much involved with other people, l ike parties. I like going to museums and stuff like that, maybe operas, plays, and stu ff like that. We went to see a few concerts together, and we went to impressionist museums.

Which museums? I don't remember the name. That was his hobby. ( Female, college drop-out, interview 2. I )

While it is doubtful that they engaged as frequently and intensively in those activities as she claimed (she could not remember any music or books or museums they shared together), this relationship acquainted her with a cultural lifestyle she otherwise would not have been familiar with. Her boyfriend finished college and became a lawyer. He broke off the relationship because of her refusa l to continue her college education. And although she did love him, she did not yield to his request that she stay in college rather than seek a ca reer in law enforcement. The force of habitus was clearly stronger than their feelings for each other.

The Business of Love

1. 3 1.

As these examples show, people can choose not to be with somebody because of incompatible cultural and educational backgrounds; some­ times this choice is conscious, but most often it is hidden under personal attributes such as "curiosity" or "creativity. " To summarize, then, I found that the downwardly mobile or the "strained" upwardly mobile respondents for whom marriage was an im­ portant factor in achieving a certain social status were the most likely to acknowledge an economically rational approach to love and marriage. Even those who subscribed to the norm of disinterestedness revealed in their responses the cognitive and psychological properties of a self­ interested rationality: mates are chosen on the basis not of a blind and uncontrollable romantic passion but rather of a more-or-Iess careful and controlled evaluation of personal and moral qualities. These qualities are translations of assets associated with various levels of education. The moral boundaries usually invoked by working-class respondents to evaluate prospective partners were defined in terms of commitment to work and family. As Bourdieu found in France, a moral vocabulary is more evident among the working class and the lower fractions of the middle class. My upper-class respondents, especially those with high cul­ tural capital, emphasized a battery of personal qualities that directly re­ late to cultural rather than moral resources and reflected " highbrow" tastes. Both social groups, then, translated the particular exigencies of their social positions into moral or personal attributes or both. I TA L K , T H E R EF O R E

YOU LOVE ME

This analysis still leaves unanswered the central question presented at the beginning of this chapter: what is the cultural mechanism invisibly reconciling love as the outcome of a self-interested choice of a socially compatible partner with love as pure emotion? To begin answering this question, 1 offer the case of a working-class man who had dated for several months a woman with significantly higher income and education. He recalled their dating as follows: "I dated only one woman who had a lot of money and we had a great thing going." Despite the difference in their socioeconomic status, they had a fulfilling relationship. Although his income was limited, he was able to "take her places" and fulfill the cultural script of the "man treating the woman. " He was able not only to compete successfully with other men of higher socioeconomic status but also to make use of the virility and sexual boldness often valued by working-class men (his partner often

The Reasons for Passion

2.3 3

asked him to make love in unconventional places, for example, n ea r a statue in the p a rk of a large city). But she eventually broke off the rela­ ti onshi p because of h is lack of formal education. Talking like a lay soci­ ologist, he viewed education as a more i mporta nt factor than his income in expl a i ni ng their separation. I've only dated one person who had a lot of money and we had a great thing going, but one thing that killed us. She could come down to my level, but I could not go to her level or class. She made better than $ 1 5 0,000 a year . She was around lawyers, doctors, pro fess ional people who always wore a three-piece suit, always went out with a tux on, always drove a limousine or had a limousine pick 'em up, where, even though I, at the time, had a Caddie and I took her to nice p laces, but I could not go to her office parties or her boss's house when she gOt in vited out there. .

.

.

Why? She thought I wouldn't fit because I didn't have the higher education that she wanted to ha\'e, like a B.S. or a d ouble E be hin d their name: electrical engineer or a doctor or a la wyer or somethin' like this a n d she marr ied a profess ional person . But I wasn't hurt when she leh and I analyzed it aherwards and I real­ ized that I enjoyed her company and I had a very strong like-love for her and it was almost love-love and I think what made me come to my senses i s the fact that there's different type of people in classes. There's rich class, professional class, work ing class, even low-life class. You, to me, you cannot mix a rich class with a working class. It don't mix. You cannot m ix a professional who makes better than a $ 1 00,000 with a wo rki n g person. They don't mix.

What do you think was the biggest obstacle in what you say, money or education? Education is the biggest obstacle, al tho ugh some people who have a worki ng class, they are more educated than the people who ha ve a professional-class. They have more sense. They have more k nowledge, where a professional per­ son has that degree behind their name, eve n t h o ugh they went to school and they took all the courses and th ey know a l l the proper words to say and everything, but they don't have the smans. They don't have that knowledge.

­

When

you say

education is an obstacle. what do you mean exactl)l?

Oh, uh, say, for instance, you met a person. You say, for i n st ance, I had my doctor's degree in sociology, Okay? Most of the people you would talk to are in your category. If you h appe n to go down into a lower class or into a worki ng class, you may find a very bright person who is smart and can hold a conversation and can talk in their sense of their class of intelligence, of knowin' the fancy words, of the right p ronu nc i at i o n of the words, of the right, to me, the fou r, ah, the four-dollar words that are 50 long that some people have to look up in the dictionary to find out what the meanings are . (Male electrician, interview 3 6. 1

134

The Business of Love

A l t hough th ey were of different social and economic backgrounds, the man took the " $ 1 5 0,000 lady" co " n ice p lac e s, " thus suggesting that ther e is some degree of class interaction , even if not enough for mar­ riage. Dating, as we saw earl i e r, allows for more class interaction than courting, calli ng , or k e e p i ng company, that is, getting to know some­ body with the express purpose of mar r ia ge . Because it is r e latively non­ committal, dating favors class i n t e ract ions, but in th e short rather than long te rm. In this man's story, both money and education divided them, although ultim a tely education was the m o re i mpor t a nt reason for their parting. The fact that he "was not hurt" illustrates Bourdieu's claim that p e o p l e a dap t to the chances t he y o bj e ct i v e ly have; that is, people desire only what th e y can obj ectively get, or, as was the case here, they do not mourn what they objectively cannot get. In choosi ng their mate s, peo pl e u ncon s cio u sl y adapt their choic e s to their ob j ective as­ s e ts and ch ances. Finally, and perhaps most noteworthy, the man in­ dicated that ve r ba l communication was o ne of the i m p o r t a n t avenues, if not the mo s t important, through which his educational inadequacy or i n co m pati b ility was m a d e visible. This provid e s us with an impor ­ tant clue as to the nature of the cultural mechanism " tr anslating " emo­ ti on into social re prod u cti on . The model o f emotional communication that h as per v aded the po r­ trayals of lov e in the mass m e d ia presents ideal love as an emine nt ly talkative love . We are indeed endlessly told that communication is not mere ly an i m portant feature but the defining feature of good and loving romantic relationships. Many studies of love and marriage agree that communication, sel f-expression, self-disclosure, and verbal intimacy are prerequisi tes of a successful re l a tio nship and are crucial in e lic i ting and m a i nt aining romantic feelings.33 The historical and cultural situatedness of this emphasis is evocativel y illustrated by the twelfth-century Treatise on Love and Its Remedies, i n which Andreas Capellanus warned that too many opportunities to see the beloved and too m a ny chances to talk to eac h another actua l ly decrease love. Furthermore, unlike the seventeenth-century ari stocrat ic French ideal of sharing tastes th r ough the refined art of conversation, the aim of contemporary communication is not to engage in sophisticated seduction games, in which the self is as often veiled as it is disclosed, but rather to expose and express, as au­ t h entica lly as possi bl e , one's inner thoughts and self. Soap operas, pop­ ular psychology, self-help books, and women's magazines have been the main vehicles for the elaboration, codification, and popularization of the principle that romantic communication is a way to attain self-knowl-

The Reasons for Passion

23 5

edge, mutual understanding, and u l t ima tel y emotional fulfillment. The ideal of communication i s p rese n ted and l i ved as an ideal of emotional se l f-d i sc los u r e a nd in tim a cy. However, as we s aw in the previous c ha p te r, the communicative ra­ tionality that st rength e n s and enr i ches the romantic bond verges on an econom ic r a tio n ality that makes the other pe rs o n a tradable good. Con­ versation and other forms of e x pre ss i on function as i ndica tors of the cul­ tural ca p ital on \vhich they are so depe n den t , so that for my middle- and upper-middle-class re s p o n de nts , talking and l i s ten i ng aid in selecting a mate from a co mpa ti b l e habitus. Two e xamp le s help c l ari fy this. In a popul a r book with the s elf- e xpla n a tory title How to Marry the Man of Your Choice, the author, Margaret Kent, advises, " Once you have started da ti ng a pa rt ic u la r man, how do you determine if he is a p ote n tial husband for you? How do you know i f he is that special one man in a h u nd r ed -o r in a thousand-who is yo u r ideal mate ? . . . 'Interview' him for the job of hu s ba n d before you 'audition' for the role of wife."34 The a utho r proceeds to list topics and questions one can and s hould ad­ dress du r i ng these interviews to determine in a man is co mpati b l e : for example, questions a bo u t values and goal s a n d q ue st ion s such as "Do you believe in h e a ven and hell ? " a nd " How often do you like to go on vacation? " and "What would your dream ho use be like ? " and " What are your attitudes toward ca pi t a l punishment? " The golden rule of the interview is that a good atmosphere must p re va il : " Let him talk. " "Show i n terest and re m e m b er what he says. " " Avoid c en s orsh i p . " " Avoid criti­ cism a nd ridicule." The " rom a nti c interview" makes the romantic en­ counter focus on the conversational ex ch a nge at the same time that it makes con vers at io n the tool thro ugh which one identifies the tr u l y com­ pa t i b le pa rtne r. The second example is prov i d ed by a twenty - five ye a r-old ma le re s ponde nt in my sample .

­

What kind of things would be unromantic on a first date? I would mostly pay attention to the conversation that she initiated. Which means-?

The sort of subject she is interested in talking about. So what would be a romantic subject?

think art or politics or just very typically beautiful things, talking about spring or swimming or something like that. I enjoy comparing notes about things that we think are enjoyahle.

I

The Business of Love

Would you marry someone less educated than you ? No.

Why not? Because the principle that I like to do with the person I am with is to talk, discuss, and argue, and if somebody can't do that, ] would not really know what to do.

What attracts you in somebody? More than anything else, somebody that I am a ble to ta lk to easily, feel very comfortable with . . . .

Can you describe your ideal mate? It would have to be so m e b od y with interests and beliefs that I share. Be­ cause I don't think that among two people that are involved, intellectual or political disagreement should be a source of con flict. There a re p l e n t y of sources of con fl ict and that one may as well not be there. Somebody who en· joys similar recreations, like good music, good food, films, things like that.

How would you like to meet your partner, ideally? I think in the context o f work, I would like to meet so m e bo dy who is inter­ ested in the same sorts of co mm itme nts and pursuits that [ have and who also is interesting and fascinating in their own right, but I think that having common intellectual and political interests is a good and important thing. I think you can build a lasting partnership on something like that. (Male Ph.D. student, interview 24)

The cultural ideal of talking gives voice to the ethos th at communi­ cation prevents and resolves conflicts, brings a better knowledge of one­ self a nd others, binds two people emot i ona l l y, an d serves as t he basis for t rue i ntimacy. This ethos in turn expresses a belief in the redemptive value of l angua ge, its capacity to represent t h e person, to know the wor ld , to act on it, to steer emotions, and to bind peopl e in their mutual openness. It fits perfectly the " new middle class" for whom signs are th e paramount rea l ity o f t hei r work an d w ho view the world as a generalized system of communication. The more one is l i kel y to work i n the professions that d eman d a manipulation of signs and language ( a dverti s i ng, media, pub­ lishing, aca dem i a), the more likely one is to value verbal c o mmuni c atio n for its own sake. T h us for a well-established New York editor in my sam­ pl e, ta lk ing was th e very essence o f the romantic. Asked wh at she would do if she wanted to h ave a romantic moment with someone, she replied succinctly, " Ta lk ! Ta lk ! Talk!" ( fema l e editor, interview 3 ) . A nd, in fact, when as k ed to remember one of her most ro ma n t ic moments, thi s

23 7

The Rea son s for Passion

woman mentioned having met someone and having tal k ed to him for "two days and two nights in a row, without getting any sleep. " What we call a success fu l date is a mix of pleasure and utility. The in­ timacy of k i n dred souls is an effect of social compatibility, the prod uct of similar tastes in leisure, the tacit recognit i on of one's own ways o f talk­ ing, thinking, and rela x ing . For middle- and upper-middle class couples, the ability to experience simultaneously the pleasures of leisure and those of convers ation guarantees a compatibility that a good sex ual relation­ ship comes to confirm and epitomize. S uc h a ha rmonization is the result of a subtle correspondence between modes of consumption, class mem­ bership, tastes, talk as symbolic capital, although it claims to be the effect of the happy, chance union of kindred souls. The "logocentrism " of the new m iddle class has permeated the stan­ dard definitions of romantic relationships. Communication is important to the romantic interactions of the new middle classes because it con­ tains not only the possibility of inti macy and emotional openness but also the possibility for mutual assessment of ed ucational and cultural compatibility. The self is reveal ed, in this view, through the statement of opinions, ta stes, and per sona l experiences. A shared belief in the impor­ tance of conversation can even overcome other personal differences, as seen in the case of one of my respondents, a seventeen-year-old high school student, daughter of two pu b l i shers and possessing s u bstantial c u ltural capital. Can you pick o n e o r ni�cant

about them?

two sjgnj�cant relationships and tell m e what was sig­

One was interesting because we would fight all the time.

About what? About anything, but usua lly it was more like having a debate on politics or a movie, anyth i ng .

anything,

How did )'OU end up being together? That's what led

our relationship, fighting and debatin g. ( High school

dent, interview 30)

stu­

Even if this teenager went on to acknowledge that she had no romantic exper ience, her c ult u ral habitus clearly gave her a pre d i lect i on for ver­ bal co mmun ication . For her, " debating " or "intellectual chal l enge "­ core components of the cultu re of the classroom-are pri v ileged modes of co m mun i cat io n to establish a roma ntic relationship.

2. ; 8

The Business of Love

Asked if education was important in a partner, a woman lawyer who has been married for ten years responded, "To me education is too im­ portant, although I may fall in love with a painter tomorrow who you know makes zero for a week. Again that's the money but if I love the painter, if I thought he was wonderful, maybe I wo uld. Education is im­ portant, to me to find som eone who is uneducated might not be chal­ lenging intellectually" ( inte rview 7 ) . People with a high cultural competence do not talk simply for the sake of talking: t h rough the prevalence of debate and c h allenge in their con­ versation, they carry into personal life the work ethic of the new service class. As we will see, for the working classes talking is a matter not of debating but rather of the ability to express needs and solve problems. While the middle-class concept of communicati on contains the two ideas of problem solving and the " s h aring or debatin g of tastes," for working classes conversation is almost exclusively the former. For middle- and upper-middle-class respondents , then, conversation is a form of rom antic pursuit, but one that helps determine the cultural and educational compatibility of their partners. Because ta lking most of­ ten means talking about topics that require from the two partners simi­ lar amo unts of cultural competence and educational capital, it is an ef­ fective way to choose partners of similar background.35 Communication is thus an informal mechanism to gather initial information about each other. Linguistic capital is central to cultural and educational capital. As Bourdieu puts it, "The laws of the transmission of linguist ic capital are a particular case of the laws of the legiti mate transmission of cultural capital between the ge neratio n s, and it may the refore be posited that the linguistic competence measured by academic criteria depends, li k e the other dimensions of cultural capital, on the level of education (measured in terms of qualifications obtained) and on the social tra j ector y. " 36 The modern ideal of communication is presented under the guise of a pleasurable pursuit that arouses emotion and encourages bonds. To use P arsonian terminology, the instrumental di me n sion of commu nica ti on is i nter mi ngled with its expressive dimension. Talk ful fi lls its in­ strumental function only to the extent that it also fulfills the expressive function of providing warmth and inti m acy. We no longer live in an era in which, as Durrell obse rved, a " perfume or a walk " haunt s us. What excites the imagination and the emotions of modern people is t heir ability to share verbally th e i r opinions, tastes, and life sty le. D . H . Law rence described this excitement over seventy years ago in Lady Chatterley 's Lover: " Neither was ever in love with a young ­

2.3 9

The Reasons for Passion

man unless he and she were v erbally very near: that is, unless they were pr ofou n dly i nterested, talking to one another. The amazing, the pro­ foun d, the unbelievable thrill there was in passionately talki ng to some really clever young man by the hour, resuming day after d a y for mont h s . . . . " 37 Sociologists of the contemporary family ha ve suggested that marriage has become a "lifestyle enclave, " with marital choices based on person al compatibil ity and lifesty le, but they have not specified the subjective mecha n ism through which t h i s is accomplished.38 In an econ omy where lifestyles and cu ltural competencies are distinctive markers of social stratification, the notion that love evolves from communication, from the shari ng of common tastes, feelings and ideas, incorporates under the guise of a n ideal of i ntima cy the idea that one's mate should be cultur­ ally, educationally, and linguistically compat ib le . The cen trality of edu­ cation to the choice of a partner is congruent with Bourdieu's (and more tangentially Gary Becker's) claim that education is a new form of capi­ tal in which people (and states) invest. Thus, at least one of the mechanisms t hrough which people experi­ ence their l ove su bjectively as a disinterested em otion and yet, at the same time, reproduce p a tterns of social class is medi a ted by a commu nicat i ve habitus, the expression of identity through conversatio n and verbal self­ disclosure. The process o f mate selection takes the form simultaneously of an exchange of tradable goods and a poo ling of resources through the sharing of common ta stes, leisure activities, and values.39 From my sam­ ple, it is difficult to determine which aspects are "traded " and which are "shared. " Rather, these apparently correspond to d ifferent stages of the romantic relationship, the former manifesti ng itself at the earlier stages of the relationship a nd the latter comi ng i n to pl a y sl igh tly later. The cul­ tural model of c o mmunicati on plays an important role in the second stage of the process and has both instrumental and expressive functions. Thro ugh it peo ple both evaluate one another's cultural and educational standing and forge and contin uou sly renew the emotional bond per se.40 Hence, even if, as Lamont correctly a rgues, h igh culture does not play the critical role it plays in Fra nce in the forma tion of ass oci ations, other forms of cultural ca p ital and distinction, such as the a bi lity to carry on an intell i ge n t c onversation and the abi li ty to display the forms of "common sense" and understanding that are part of one's habitus, are central to the choice of a mate. Transformations in middle-class cultural definitions of romantic love and marital relationships, in which these come to be viewed as "

"

"

"

The B u s in ess of Love

constituted and maintained by communication, explain therefore, at least in part, how people can choose a linguistically, educationally, and culturally compatible mate while maintaining the face of disinterested irrationality. This ideal of communication allows us to understand how apparently "disinterested " emotions and norms coexist with strategic action. The personal qualities that rational-action theorists claim under­ lie the preferences of actors are in fact social qualities that are not ac­ knowledged as such but are formulated and subjectively lived in the broad cultural ideal of communication. In keeping with Bourdieu's criti­ cism of these theorists, my findings suggest that interests are neither universal nor preconstituted.41 Their particular forms emerge from his­ torical transformations of the cultural and economic spheres. As Weber argued, culture provides the particular languages and frames of thought within which interests " move on the tracks of history." This analysis thus partially conflicts with that of Lamont in arguing that moral, cultural, and social boundaries are blurred and porous. Like La­ mont, I find that high culture per se does not play the central role in the re­ production of American society that it does in France, but I would argue that more abstract, less content-driven forms of cultural capital, such as the general ability to communicate thoughts, opinions, and emotions, play an important part in romantic associations. As Bourdieu would expect, I found respondents sometimes to be conscious strategists with a clear sense of " investment" and sometimes to make romantic choices by using semi· conscious judgments guided by habitus. This conclusion, however, is more relevant to the beginning stages of a relationship than to its subsequent stages, during which the phenomenology of the romantic bond c hanges. L OV E F O R F R EE The paradox of the romantic bond is that although it can be motivated by self-interest, it is fully convincing only if at a certain point the indi­ vidual proves his or her disinterestedness. Once the choice has been made and the romantic bond established, what people view as the most lov­ ing acts are those that are ostensibly indifferent to their " market value" but instead d isplay disinterestedness and gratuity.42 Can you remember a moment in your relationship with your husband that stands out in particular? One very spec ial moment-I don't ev e n know why this comes to mind­

but it

w

a s Valentine's Day, it was the first Va lentine's Day that I knew him.

The Reasons for Passion

And h e called me to see if I was home and if he could come over and I tol d him not to, because I had something, s o met h ing had happened to my eyes, the y were all swollen, I really looked like a freak, I h a d gotten something, I st i ll don't know wh a t it was, but my face was a\l popped up and I told him not to come over because I didn't want him to see me like that. And a while later he was up at the door with a do zen roses and it did not offend me t h at he came over, it made me feel good because it did n ot matter to him that I looked th a t way. He sti11 wanted to s pen d time with me. ( Female secretary, i n te rv ie w 1 6 )

This incident, which seemed so dearly to evade the logic of calculation, was vividly recalled after fifteen years by the same woman who had weighed so carefully getting involved with someone younger than her­ self. What made the event stand out was that her boyfriend showed that he loved her for " something else" other than what was then probably one of her only assets on the marriage market, her beauty. He manifested a disinterested behavior and a concern for her rather than for the im­ mediate benefits he could garner from meeting her on Valentine's Day. To fully convince, romantic love must be an oste ntati ous manifesta­ tion of disi nte restedness and a ppear to short-circuit the economic ratio­ nality of profit and loss. For example, a working-class woman, who ear­ lier in the interview had said that she would not have married someone with an income lower than that of her husband, recalle d why one of her love relationships did not work out: "I am thinking back [on] someone I dated for a long time, maybe that's why I didn't stick it out with him. Because I loved him, he was a very successful type person, every woman's dream, but I guess he didn't have that spark, the romance" (female legal secretary, interview 1 8 ) . This woman implicitly opposed two kinds of re­ lationship, one motivated by the fact that he was "very s uccess fu l and "every woman's dream," the other based on an ineffable "spark." In this relationship, in other words, the woman could not switch to a thor­ oughly disi n terested and gratuitous bond. This woman eventually mar­ ried a man who, by her own account, was as successful as her former boyfriend but for whom she felt "that spark. " This second relationship thus contained both the conscious and calculated elements of economic investments and the irrational mystique that makes the romantic bond different from purely economic behavior and shrouds it in a halo of disinterested emotionality. Another of my respondents openly acknowledged having pursued a woman because he found out her fam­ ily owned an island, but then confessed, "When I started going out with her, it dearly wasn't going to happen, the island became irrelevant. It's -

"

The Business of Love

like 'Who needs the island ?' I would rather not go to the island if I have to go with her" (male actor, interview 29 ) . Even though the island sparked his initial interest, it was not sufficient to maintain it in the ab­ sence of other, nonmaterial elements. Echoing the women in the pre­ ceding examples, he suggested that an interest that cannot be converted into sentiment cannot provide the ground for an enduring bond. Thus, contrary to popular myth, the initial attraction i s mixed with, if not steeped in, the self-interested rationality of the market, while later stages of the romantic bond lend themselves more readily to the gratu­ itous gift of oneself and irrational love for someone else.43 Lamont's at­ tempt to establish moral boundaries as autonomous from the mechanism of social reproduction fails to take into account the role of time in the development of relationships. At some point, or during some of its priv­ ileged moments, the couple shifts to a mode where gift rather than ex­ change value binds the two. This aspect of the romantic bond is befit­ tingly apparent in the practices of gift-giving reported by my respondents . The gift h a s ambiguous properties. O n the one hand, i t seems gratu­ itous, disinterested, and beyond the rationality of economic exchange, but on the other, the norms of reciprocity that constrain the circulation of gifts make them socially binding. Receipt of a gift usually calls for a reciprocal gift, and the prestige or honor of the giver depends on the value of the gift.44 In other words, the gift seems to be at one and the same time gratuitous, because it is a waste of economic capital and evades the rationality of market exchange, and binding, because it puts pressure on the giver to give a gift appropriate to the code of honor and pressure on the recipient to give back a gift of equal or superior value . Pursuing and extending Mauss's insights, Bourdieu suggests i n his study of Kabylia that in the system of gift-giving power is simultaneously af­ firmed and disguised. By giving generous gifts that cannot be recipro­ cated, the giver creates a debt that is in effect an impositio n of power.45 Not all the gifts circulated in the romantic relationship exhibit the power dimension discussed by Bourdieu, however. On the contrary, for a certain category of gifts, pressure is put less on the recipient to recip­ rocate than on the giver, in the obligation that the gift must express sen­ timents, intimacy, and shared experiences that negate market value and status. When asked what sort of gifts people like to give or receive, many respondents answered in a single voice: "Little things, little cards, little flowers, like little things " (interview I I ). "We like small [inaudible] of affection, he would bring me flowers, but it does not have to be expen­ sive flowers" (interview 2 8 ) . "I tend to buy little garbages, like cheap

The Reasons for Passion

2.4 3

toys, or, I have a hard, I am not the type to buy flowers and candy" (in­ terview 14). "I like to he given small, not very valuable things" (inter­ view 24 ). "I used to buy Laura lots of things, like tee-shirts, just little chachkas" (interview 8). These examples, given by males and females of different ages and social classes, reveal a common theme: romantic gifts are "little," "small," "cheap," of no economic value. The smallness of these gifts functions as a conspicuous sign of intimacy. Removed from more stereotypical expressions of romance, they can take on a private meaning shared only by the couple. They are, as one respondent put it, "garbages," that is, that which cannot be recycled, the surplus to which everyone else is indifferent. There seem to he, then, two parallel scales to measure the exchange of gifts, one in which bigger is better and one in which sentiments are expressed hy inverting the logic of the market or the ostentatious display of prestige. The romantic gift points to all that cannot be commodified or indexed to social status: spontaneity, originality, intimacy, effort, cre­ ativity, and authenticity. The smallness of the romantic gift inverts the rules of gift giving. The solidarity expressed by the gift is all the more convincing in that it is condensed into an economically worthless object. Where one would have expected the romantic hond to be most com­ modified, it appears, on the contrary, to evade the logic of the market and to retain as valuable on ly those actions and objects that signify nei­ ther by their economic value nor by the prestige attached to them, but by their capacity to communicate feelings.46 For example, a male jani­ tor in my sample recalled that the most loving present he had received was "a card. A very loving card. Presents are nice. Somebody is think­ ing about you. It's nice to give presents when there is no occasion for it" ( interview 40). Why is giving a present "when there is no occasion for it" considered romantic? Precisely because it is an ostensible manifestation of the fact that the action is not constrained by the rules of gift giving; the recipi­ ent releases the giver from these rules so that the gift may come from the free desire to give and thereby to express love. For every respondent, a gift given unexpectedly was deemed much more romantic than a gift given on its "due date " (such as an anniversary or birthday) . The ro­ mantic gift transcends the system of reciprocity and thereby appears to be an act of pure will and love. Another respondent also characterized a card she had received as a very romantic present: "My husband did something very romantic. When we first met, he drove down to this parking lot where 1 would park

The B u s i n ess of Love

2. 4 4

and of all the cars that were there, it was huge parkin g , he found my car and put a card on my window. When I came there was a love card. That he went out and found my car, that was romantic" (female lawyer, in­ terview 2. 3 ) . Th i s card was memorable to the woman because its giving d e man ded effort and w as not given as a routine token of a ffect i on . The gift thus conceived is c u l tura ll y constructed as more than an obligatory ritual of s oc i a l interaction a nd soli d a ri ty. It is rather, an expression of one's innermost feelings. When asked to choose between an expensive present and " a rose with a poem," respondents with few exceptions preferred the rose, on the grounds that it is a m o re "natural symbol" of feelings. "It's a love rela­

ti o ns h ip . The e x p ensi ve obj ect , unless it is connected to something deep in my life th a t the lover n o ticed , I asso c ia te with other things. It's not how expensive is the o bj ect , it's how it relates to my life. The rose with the poem w il l a lw a y s relate because that's the feeling. The rose isn't even as important as t h e poem i f s he makes i t up . So it would be the rose" ( male lawyer, inte r v i e w 5 ) . Th e noninstrumental cha ra c te r of the ideal romantic gift is a precondition of its c apac ity to expres s the uniqueness of the relationship by i m bu i n g it with particular, un repea table life his­ tory. The ideal romantic gift is defined by its ca paci t y to signify an ex­ perience a nd an emotion reflective of the unique intimacy shared by the

cou ple , an intimacy located out of the reach of publ ic d isp l ay and pub­ l ic attribution of value. Were you ever given a present that you liked?

Yes, that sou n d s stupid, but I had an orange comb for years. In fa ct, I found it ag a i n . I've h ad it for about fifteen years now, twelv e years. A co m b . It's real stu p id of me, fifty cents, and I lost it, and this lady t ha t I wa s in lov e with went to stores all over the p l a ce . She lo s t it, and she went to stores a ll over the place trying to find me an orange comb, so she bought me one. S he boug ht me-I mean, it's stupid, but it sounds stupid, but just putting all that time and e ffo rt and tho u ght over such a l ittle thing, that meant a lot. It w a s the t ho ugh t behind it. (Mal e boxer, interview I ; ) Another man remembered a si m i la r gift:

Somebody once gave me a toy car, really a wonderful th i n g , not a fancy one, it was in p l asti c. What did you like about

it?

It was fu n ny, and also i t was whimsical, it just set e motion s when I looked at it. Memories of times when [inaudible) nearby or something a b ou t the person. (Male Ph.D . s tuden t , i nterview 2.4 )

The Reasons for Passion

24 5

These two gifts are romantic because they serve a "private" code that isolates the lovers from the outside world . Such gifts evade the order of public meaning by signifying a particular and private event of the life story of the couple.47 Luc Boltanski has offered an account of gratuitous and disinterested behaviors, suggesting that we include within the realm of s oc iology re­ lationships based on "agape," a state of peace in which one gives one­ self without an y aim of control, struggle, power, or even reciprocation.48 In a sta te of agape, people stop desiring or fighting for recognition, stop conceiving of others as a set of exchangeable attributes that can be traded and bargained over, and switch to a mode of sociality where the self gives itself with no intention of defending or increasing an interest, but rather with the sole purpose of giving selflessly to another The concept of aga pe may seem to be a minor variation on the major theme that underlies Durkheim's sociology, namely, social solidarity, but unlike solidarity it is not motivated by the functional purpose of maintaining the cohesion of the social bond. It is a category of bond that evades utilitarianism and is the uncompromised affirmation of relationships that affirm nothing but themselves. The findings discussed in this chapter offer partial, tentative, and pre­ liminary evidence of such states of agape . Although many of my inter­ views point to the fact that considerations of social class, prestige, and power enter into the equation of love a nd gifts, other elements also in­ dicate that duri n g certain privileged moments romantic relationships are lived in the mode of agape, as a free and disinterested bestowal of one's love on another. .

CONCLUSION While Engels and the critical theorists o f the Frankfurt School posited the theoretical possibility and empirical existence of a " real" (agapic ? ) love outside the realm of private property, Bourdieu h a s remained silent as to whether a disinterested romantic sentiment can exist at all or whether all romantic sentiments are to be understood primarily in terms of class interests and habitus.49 In an early analysis of marriage strategies in the French region of the Beam, he suggested in his con­ clud i ng remarks that the antinomies between sentiment and duty and between individual and kin strategies are in v isibly reconciled through well-incorporated habitus.50 In his later work he has apparently moved to the more radical position that emotions are the disguising veils of class

The Business of Love

reproduction and that class reproduction occurs not despite but precisely within and through the "blind" and "irrational" emotion of love. My own findings affirm Bourdieu's argument to the extent that, whether people make choices based on the invisible and tacit mechanism of the habitus or whether they monitor their choices consciously by us­ ing the commodified languages of the market, the initial stages of a re­ lationship are likely ( but not necessarily ) to be based on the social, cul­ tural, and economic assets of their partner. I part company with him, however, in claiming that at different stages of their development, ro­ mantic attachments involve different categories of love and modes of binding. An enduring bond spans adult life by alternating between a ra­ tional and self-interested bond and an agapic one. The same relationship that can be initiated by interest-driven considerations and a sense of in­ vestment can and in fact must later be transformed into a selfless and disinterested one. It seems as if, once a self-interested bond is established, it can be maintained only if it is lived and shared, at least periodically, in the mode of a disinterested emotion, an emotion that is expressed through the economy of the " little gift." Thus disinterestedness and pure emotion are imbricated within, rather than antinomic with, the eco­ nomic rationality that structures romantic encounters.

C H APTER

8

The Class of Love When winter came and there was little to eat, they were still content. They found a cave and told each other love stories and sang and played the ha rp in turn. They loved each other as their hearts prompted. How did they love? Their Im'e

was

a part of the cave, and the cave was round and high and broad. As their bodies weakened, for there was little food, their loves soared, filling the expanse of the cave, exploring the depths of their hearts. In the roundness of the cave, they came to know the tender curves of love's inner circles. Tristan and lseult (as retold by

Diane Wolkstein)

Tristan and Iseult illustrate a motif that haunts our love myt hology : love flourishing where riches have fled. As hunger weakens the body, the radi­ ant light of love fills the lovers' hearts (as well as, we are led to presume, their stomachs). Not only is love blind to status and wealth, it ultimately transforms poverty into abundance, hunger into satiation, lack into sur­ plus. Reversal of identity is the theme par excellence of love, ugliness trans­ formed into startling beauty, poor shepherds into kings , frogs into princes. But this alchemy of love is primarily social, for it expresses the hope that lowly conditions can be transmuted into noble ones and that love can unite people otherwise separated by barriers of class, nationality, and birth. Parallel to this classless mythology, the courtly and gallant ideal that was to shape Western romantic consciousness has promoted the very forms of expression of the literate and propertied classes: poetry, music, and songs are the consecrated and seemingly "natural" expressions of love. I Although these literate ideals have less currency today, the cultural forms within which love is expressed are those of various factions of the dominant classes. As Herbert Lantz suggests, historians tend "to view romantic love as handed down from the affluent classes to the poor. "2 He gives three re asons for the origin of love among the literate elites. First, these classes were more likely to be influenced by the liberalizing effects of "macro" economic and political events. Given their relatively

The

Business of

Love

secure economic existence, such groups could afford to experiment with new lifestyles. Second, because the poorer classes spent their energies on matters of economic s urvival, their family environment was harsh with competition for resources. Finally, literacy is a necessary precondition of romantic love: "people have ro be able to read and discuss feelings be­ fore feelings can become part of their experience." 3 Lantz's observations suggest three elements important for a socio­ logical understanding of the relationship between love and class. ( I ) Mechanisms of symbolic domination , that is, cultural standards flowing from the top to the bottom, can structure how romantic love is perceived by various social groups. ( 2. ) The practice of romantic love demands a v ailability of time and distance from material neces­ sity. The expression of romantic love may vary according to one's eco­ nomic capital and resources in leisure time. ( 3 ) Although it is doubt­ ful that romantic love intrinsically demands reading skills, as Lantz implies, his observations suggest that romantic practices might be re­ lated to what Bourdieu calls "cultural competence, " that is, to forms of talk, taste, and aesthetic evaluation, themselves related to stan­ dards of romance. As argued in earlier chapters, advertisers, cultural entrepreneurs, parascientific experts, and members of the new service class have con­ tributed to definitions of love that promote modes of expre s sion of rel­ atively affluent and educated segments of the middle class. The thera­ peutic model of love d i sc u ss ed in chapter 6 privileges forms of self-awareness and expression that ultimately depend on the linguistic and cultural capital of people with college education. S imilarly, the he­ donist model of romance, which demands an efficient use of the leisure market, depends on the requisite income and lifestyle. Thus, the ability to enact the romantic ideal in the twin doma ins of communication and consumption demands a romantic competen ce marked by access to lin­ guistic, cultural , economic, and time resources. This in turn i mplies that people with less access to these re so u rce s are at a d i s advantage and are romantically " less competent." At the heart of this cha pter lies the claim that the notion of "cultural capital , " which has been recently under at­ tack, is relevant to understanding differences in romantic practices.4 However, as we saw in chapters 2 and } , the commercialized formula of romance addresses and includes disparate social groups.5 Differences of i ncome, education, and culture are ultimately circumscribed within the common arena of the market.6

The Class of Love

T H E E L E ME N T A RY F O R M S O F RO MA N C E

Working-class and upper-middle-class respondents share a common " blueprint" of romance, consisting of activities such as going to a movie or restaurant, having a candlelight dinner, going to the beach, taking a vacation or just "getting away," being in nature. On the other hand, their romantic practices diverge most significantly in the case of cultural activities, whether these demand consumption (going to the opera, say) or not (writing love poems). Examples of the blueprint among working­ class and upper-middle-class respondents in my interview sample are abundant: What would you do if you wanted to have a romantic m ome n t with your partner? It would be at home. If I had my ultimate place. A very nice long dinner. Discussing things at candlelight. I am very attracted by candlelight. And very beautiful music. What kind of music?

Beautiful classical music. Bach, Monteverdi. (Male orchestra conductor, in­ terview 3 3 ) What I would do is like, ah-okay, the first thing I would do i s probably have a nice, romantic dinner at my apartment, candlelight and soft music and stuff like that, pIus-that's what I have done. That's romantic to me. Very soft music and just be into each other with not a lot of distraction and things like that. What

kind of music?

Real soft, soft music. Easy listening music.

Do you have some at home? Can you name names ? Ah, let me see. I like Barry Manilow. I like soul, very light soul music. (Fe­ education, interview 3 7 )

male security officer, high school

Although these two respondents used different linguistic, cultural, and economic capitals, they both referred to a common cultural script of ro­ mance: the "nice" dinner at home, the candlelight, the beautiful music­ all essential elements of romantic rituals. Other examples show a similar pattern. Asked what he would do to have a romantic evening, a male university professor replied, "I'd say I had a pretty romantic evening one night recently. Is that reasonable to

The Business of Love

describe? I went to a formal dance, so you get dressed up really nice and you go to a pretty place, you do some dancing, and then I think we came back here for the dessert" (interview I ) . Similarly, a male janitor with a grade-school education said, " Have a nice dinner with some wine, quiet, dancing, I don't know, go back to her place" ( interview 40). Although formulated by two men at opposite ends of the economic and cultural spectrum, these answers enact a similar script of romance: eating a "nice" dinner, dancing, and going back to the man's or woman's place. Activities taking place in nature also follow a common script. Re­ sponding to the same question, a female university professor said, "It would always be in a place in nature. Like either in the woods having a picnic or in the mountains hiking or at the beach. I think I would pick the beach as the most, like being at the seashore, maybe in the evening and eating a dinner, a picnic dinner there, and just listening to the waves and going for a walk on the beach, that's to me very romantic " (inter­ view 1 9 ). And a male electrician with a high-school education said, "It would be a couple places I would like to be. One is the beach early in the morning or late at night, when nobody else is around, either seeing the sunrise or the sunset, with somebody, even if you're in [inaudible) or whatever, you're warm, you're snugly and, if you could build a fireplace, a fire and have a fire there and maybe have some hot chocolate or cof­ fee or even have some diet drinks, since I don't drink" (interview 3 6 ) . Here again, the two answers articulate a common cultural scenario: both people chose the beach as the most romantic place and mentioned a pic­ nic, the building of a fire, and having drinks as symbols of seclusion, tranquility, and romance. As we would expect from our findings in chapters 3 , 4, and 5, re­ spondents from different cultural and economic backgrounds invoked similar meanings of love as a liminal ritual and an invisible act of con­ sumption.7 Even if working-class people participate in the market of ro­ mantic leisure less than their middle- and upper-middle-class counter­ parts, and even if they do not manifest the same proficiency at manipulating the symbols of the romantic formula, it remains that many of the formula's distinctive components have pervaded romantic prac­ tices at all levels of society. Far from being excluded from the market­ based romantic formula, working-class people consume and enact the same " elementary forms of romance" as members of higher social strata. This represents a break from the premodern period, when working­ class and middle-class romantic practices differed significantly. During the nineteenth-century, middle-class people interacted within the protected

The Class

of Love

boundaries of the home, while members of the working class, who often lived in crowded apartments, were forced to meet outside their living space and were excluded from the practice of "calling. " 8 The commodi­ fication of romance has provided a formula that, if it does not unify the romantic practices of different classes, is at least accessible to most of them. This development is not surprising since from the nineteenth cen­ tury onward capitalist markets of consumption have grown by assimi­ lating previously marginal groups, such as children and adolescents. In a similar vein, David Gartman suggests that advanced capitalist societies possess both a class culture and a mass culture and that these work con­ jointly rather than against each other. The homogeneity of products consumed in the leisure sphere does not cancel class relationships but translates and obscures them in a common language of consumerist soli­ darity.9 Social differences resurface in the ways in which cultural capital orients people's choice and appreciation of romantic commodities. LOVE A S D I F F E R E N C E I n their romantic practices, middle-class respondents extended the limits of the blueprint of romance by making greater use of what is offered by the market, whereas the latter remained within these limits. Working-class respondents rarely mentioned activities frequently reported by their mid­ dle-class counterparts, such as reading together (a book, a newspaper, po­ etry), going to art galleries, dining or strolling in a remote and exotic place, eating luxury goods (caviar or salmon), attending formal dances (which require formal attire), traveling somewhere on the spur of the moment, and finally, experiencing romance in the most mundane situation. To put these examples in broader categories, middle- and upper-middle-class re­ spondents ( I ) d isplay a broader range of romantic practices, which in­ clude directly consumptive, indirectly consumptive, and nonconsumptive activities; ( 2. ) consume more expensive goods more frequently; ( 3 ) con­ sume more culturally legitimate goods; (4) are more likely to reject the idea of romance altogether and praise the category of the "mundane." As Bourdieu has suggested in Distinction, we can learn more by ex­ amining the how of consumption, the styles or codes under which con­ sumption is practiced, rather than the what of consumption. That is, the meaning of a given commodity depends on the context of its usage and not on any intrinsic signification. Bourdieu thus invites us to examine the interpretations accompanying the use of romantic commodities, the structure of these interpretations, and their link to class position .

The

Business of Love

The differences between the social strata represented in my sample can be ca ptured succinctly: whether they reported their romantic pract ices or

commented on the props of the interview, middle-class and especially up­ per-middle-class respondents displayed an elaborate anticonsumerist ethos, whereas work ing-class people uncritically adhered to the content of mass-manufactured romantic commodities. By "anticonsumerist ethos" I mean a combination of several elements: an explicit rejection of goods man­ ufactured expressly for "romance "; an emphasis on originality and cre­ ativity; and an emphasis on anti-institutional values such as spontaneity, informality, and a uthenticity. The following examples clarify the nature of these differences. When asked to remember one of their most romantic moments, two working-class respondents mentioned trips to romantic resorts," cater­ ing solely to couples and abounding in highly conventional symbols of ro­ mance (heart-shaped furniture and accessories, love poems hung on walls, etc.). As a working-class male respondent said that during these weekends, "everyone else around are also couples." Although I did not solicit re­ spondents' opinions about such romantic resorts, middle-class and upper­ middle-class respondents would have mocked such "organized romantic weekends," for one of the recurrent traits of their responses was disdain for "manufactured," "cheap," and "cliched" expressions of romance. This was made particularly clear in their reactions to the three greeting cards shown during the interview. to A Ha llmark card containing a love poem and an image of a sunset elicited reactions such as the following: "

Which of these three cards would you give your partner?

Ah, weil l hate these things, the first [card) certainly wo u l d not be that, I hate these things, they're j ust so, t hey're just trashy, they're just these po­ ems that someone writes, they're a dime a dozen, the y re so meaningless, I'd never give a n ybo dy one of tho s e . (Female edi tor, interview 4 8 ) '

1 think

number on e is a very sappy card and I wou ldn t be caught dead just'

sending a card like that,

"Sappy "? What is "sappy "? Sappy. Sentimental. It's like overkill, ),ou know. I just find 1 have a hard time getting into it. I don 't ellen like the colors they have used. (Female artist, interview 3 5)

Middle- and upper-middle-class respondents nearly unanimously de­ scribed card I as " ugly," "trashy," " corny," " nauseating," si lly, " sappy," "cliche," and " tacky. " Asked why they would not give such a "

"

The Class of Love

card to their lover, people with the highest cultural competence used the same vocabulary that, according to communication scholar Larry Gross, is used to evaluate art.1 I The card was "not original enough," was "not creative," was " stereotypical, " and showed poor "colors " or "design." In Gross's terms, respondents invoked values of originality, sincerity, ef­ fort, and creativity to express their disdain and bristled at the fact that "someone else would have written it for [them] . " Which one of these cards would you pick? This one [card 3).

Why?

I think it looks nicer. It's Matisse, right?

( liked it visually, it's an attractive card. Also what ( liked about it is that ( could write what ( wanted and be sort of the message I wanted it to be.

What about the other two? Well, they're both somebody else doing the talking for me which is not something [inaudible] as an idea . I think one should say what one has to say oneself, you know, having it written for you does not seem you 're really saying it to them. ( Female artist, interview 1 3 )

The criteria o f originality and creativity invoked by middle-class re­ spondents are viewed as aesthetic equivalents of "spontaneity," "sincer­ ity, " and " authenticity." Because the Hallmark card uses highly con­ ventional symbols of love, it is perceived to be insincere and exaggerated. The word "sentimental, " often used to mock this card, expresses the scorn for forms of expression that are both too conventional and too emotional. In keeping with this viewpoint, card 2 was often chosen as a "card they would give" because its humorous message ironically deflates the mass cultural cliches of romantic pathos. Scorn for convention and consumption i s also scorn for emphatic expressions of emotion, and ac­ cording to Bourdieu emotional distance characterizes the attitude of peo­ ple with high cultural capital to aesthetic forms. By contrast, for the least formally educated classes the Hallmark card chosen most frequently precisely because it is the most emotionally ex­ pressive and therefore the most " romantic. " Where middle- and upper­ middle-class respondents m ade aesthetic evaluations, working-class re­ spondents made emotional evaluations. Because of these criteria, they viewed card 3 , an abstraction, as "meaningless. " " I think it's very nice but it does not say anything about love. If I was giving my husband a

The B u si n ess of Love card, I want him to know how I felt" (female homemaker, no high school, interview 2. 8 ) . The Hallmark card, on the other hand, d i d express and convey the full emotion of love. Asked why he picked that card to give to his partner, a male janitor explained, "To me it expresses love, the words-. " Asked about the others, he said of card 3, "I don't like that one" (interview 40) . The Hallmark card expresses forcefully what working-class people felt they could not otherwise express themselves. For example: Which one of these cards would you give your partner? This one

Number one.

I've

given

'em and I like those.

Why ? 'Cause they e xpres s how I really feel Some cards express how you really feel inside and sometimes you can't say that. I've given those out. .

What about two and three ? What do you think of them ? Two is okay, if you want to be comical, but, uh-

What about thTee?

It's wild. I don't like that style. That's not me. (Female security officer, h igh school education, i nt erv iew 37)

While for the upper-middle-class respondents the expressive sentimental­ ity of the Hallmark card was " inauthentic," "cheap," and "manufac­ tured," for the working-class respondents the same card was the most au­ thentic because it uncompromisingly expressed the full intensity of their feelings. In extending the scope of this observation to romantic gifts in general, I found the same differences among respondents. When asked to choose between a rose with a poem and an expensive object, none of the work­ ing-class respondents would have answered the way this female artist did: As a romantic present, would you prefer to get a rose with a poem expensive obiect? Neither

of them

OT

an

is appealing.

Why? Because roses are "ery declasse and only if the poem is nice and felt. If it is an expensive gift, it doesn't reall y matter, if l like the design. There are a

The Class

o f Love

few th ings at Tiffany's that I l i ke but it has noth i ng to do with money. If I like t h e design and I think it's p retty, then it can be five cents or five million dollars, I don't care. ( Female artist, interv ie w 6)

This respondent simultaneously distanced herself from the emotional code attached to roses and from the material value of expensive gifts. Her double scorn has the main function of emphasizing the importance of her idiosyncratic sense of good taste ( "i f I like the design" ) . In a simi­ lar vein, a male Ph.D. student recounted his reaction to a poem written by a woman in love with him: As a romantic gift, would you prefer to get a rose with a poem or an ex­ pensive ob;ect? That's a hard one. I wa s involved with a person who used to write me po­ ems and send me no tes all the rime, and at the time I th oug ht it w a s nice but also kind of raise my eyebrow at i t, I mea n this is cute and clever but maybe a little roo cute.

What do you mean? Forced or fo r mal . But then I was going th ro ugh these things, ( was going th r ough my boxes and found tho se and realized that she really loved me. ( h a d n t thou ght of th a t in those terms then, it w as more of a game, more of a formalized sort of th i ng . (Intervie w 24 ) '

The " raised eyebrow" betrayed his sense of cultural distinction, activated even by someone else's love. People with the highest cultural competence were the most likely to characterize roses and poems as "stereotypical," "forced," "declasse," and thereby "inauthentic." This man's suspicion, although not typical of most middle-class answers, underscores that the attribute of "stereotypical " opens an emotional distance from manufac­ tured representations of love and more generally from any conventional (in their view, hackneyed) expression of love. In contrast, this secretary's explanation of her preference for the rose and the poem is typical of women working in the pink-collar sector: "That's romantic, I like ro­ mance. If the poem was, uh, if he wrote the poem that would mean a lot to me" ( interview 1 6 ) . Instead of viewing presents as opportunities to ex­ press one's own good taste and creativity, she values them in terms of their ability to directly signify emotions. Compare this answer to what an up­ per-middle-class woman remembered as a very romantic gift: One ni g h t w e were wa lk ing together and we were by a store fr o n t and they h ad models with plastic ar o u n d them, sort

of l ike a d ress, and we were laughing that was a new s ty l e of dress and that was a very roma n ti c night.

The Business of Love

And on my birthday, it was about three weeks later, I opened this beautiful package and it was the plastic and he had gone to the store and asked them to please give him the plastic, that was very romantic.

What was romantic about it? It was taking something that we did together, doing something creative to remind us of that and putting some effort and thought into that. (Female lawyer, interview 2 3 )

This present stood out i n her memory because i t h a d no conventional meaning of love. Instead, its romantic meaning was created by the shared experience of a singular moment and by the effort, creativity, and origi­ nality of the giver. The emotions conveyed by this present were thus mixed with aesthetic criteria. Such upper-middle-class, aesthetic romantic ethos insists on its own au­ tonomy from cliched or manufactured practices and images of romance.12 Let's imagine you wanted to have a romantic moment. What would this moment be like? No! Why not?

Because I think it varies with every person, I don't have one image of ro­ mance, it changes according to the person .

OK. Then give me several examples of romantic mom ents you have had with several people. Being at the beach at night, anything by the beach, by the ocean, it's diffi­ cult for me to be specific about romantic.

Then don 't be specific . I just want you to pull out from your memory some moments that were romantic to you. By the beach at night, usually you are a ble to concentrate on the situation I am in as opposed to worrying about other things . . . .

When you say you can't think of a general definition of romance, does it mean-I mean, I want to understand if YOII are rejecting the idea of ro­ mance or if you are sa ying it is more specific. I personally cannot define romance because it is too varied in my experi­ ence. Pictures like this [figures I , 1, 3 , and 4; see appendix 3 1 don't intimate romance, they intimate people posing. (Male artist, interview 2 5 )

This man's first reaction was t o deny that he had a single ( read, stereo­ typical) image of romance. Rather. as he suggested, his images varied

The Class of Love

2. 5 7

with the identity of his pa rtners . However, when p rompted to give ex­ amples of rom ance , he answered with one of the most conventional im­ ages of a l l , the beach at night. Although his representation of romance was as stereotyped as those of others, he felt comp elled to mark a dis­ tance between it and him se lf, a strategy rarely encountered among the wor king-class res pondents. Let's listen to another voice, very s imi l ar to the previous one: If you wanted to ha ve a romantic moment with moment look like?

someone,

what would this

You k now, I may be a very bad person for this survey just because i n a way the idea of romanticness i s already to me s o rt of embedded in a prejudicial thing. To me, when something is moving or something involving love or something invo lv i ng sex or anything, whatever it is, i t is not so m e thing that I h a ve an image of before it occurs. It is someth i ng special enough that you know if you pla n it in a way, I m e a n the whole idea of " let's have a rom an ­ tic dinner like c an d les and blah, b l a h , blah," that's never what happens. I me an it can be a time where you are w ith somebody i n any kind of s itu a­ tion, it c a n be in an incredibly unromantic, traditionally un ro ma nti c set­ ting, what makes it r o m a nti c for me is the i nteraction with the other person and the combinat i o n of moods you are in and things that h a ppen , it is not so meth i n g I would co ns tr u ct . ( Female arti s t, interview 1 3 )

This quote condenses many of the pract ices of distinction characteristic of the m o st c u ltur a lly competent respondents. Pre facing her answer with "I may be a bad pe r son for this survey," she singled herself out from the mass of pe ople who are "good for the survey." She r ej ected the idea that romance can follow a script that she herself has not written, thereby af­ firming her ability to i mprovise, to create new versions of roma nce in a variety of s i tuations. Similarly, a young Ph.D. stud ent pre faced his re­ sponse with "I pu rs ue romance in a nontraditional sense." Another re­ spondent of the same socioeconomic category sugge sted that " romance is this bullshit Park Avenue restaurant, wine and roses and flowers type of concept. " The m ost educated classes veh ementl y asserted thei r dis­ tance from stereotypes of romance, thus a ffi r ming the a utono my of their thought from commercial influence ( " no one dict a tes to me what to think"), the v alidity of their representations ( " I am not as mys t ified as others are " ), the or igina l i ty of their self ( " they all fol low the same model , I am origi n al " ), their creativity ( " I can create my own scenarios " ), and the a uthent icit y of their feelings ( " Their feelings are manufactured, mine are authentic " ) . These idea s are inscribed within larger ideologic a l prac­ tices of cultural s pecialists, who view themselves as mo de rn i conocl a s ts

The Business of Love

who can dispel the mystifications that baffle others. 1 3 More than any other class, educated, upper-middle-class people cultivate the " third per­ son" effect, or the belief that others ( " they " ) are victims of deficiencies from which they themselves are exempt. 14 These findings confirm Bourdieu's observations that popular classes tend to identify emotionally and in a participatory mode with cultural products, while the most educated classes cultivate distance, either by disparaging cultural products or by focusing on their formal, aesthetic features. Upper-middle and, to a lesser extent, middle-class respondents valued highly autonomous and creative self-expression independent of the props provided by the market. More exactly, while they held as le­ gitimate the "creative manipulation " of commodities (furniture, cloth­ ing) for expressing a genuine but hidden self, they spurn the use of mass­ marketed commodities when unmediated by an original "self. " Romance seems to me something whe re you take your time an d create something. W hen you are not creating something and you a re just li v i ng your daily life, it's not romantic.

When you are living your daily life.

day in and day out-but there is a certain fun l i v in g in having a nice place, coming ho me If you didn't go out, if you d id n 't put anyt h i n g romantic in it, if you didn't make these mom e nts where you both real i ze how much one loves another, how attracted you are to one a n ot h e r, then I think you become unattractive to that person and they be­ co me unattractive to you. (Female lawyer, interview 23)

Yeah, when you j ust New York,

.

A romantic moment must express not only one's personal creativity but also one's total inner being. Asked why he would prefer staying home to going out, the orchestra conductor replied, " Because I could create an en­ vironment that I like, with the right music and the right, you know . In my ideal, in my fantasy, my home would express myself, and it would be a certain environment" (interview 3 3 ). He described at length how he would arrange background music, food, and clothes to create a roman­ tic atmosphere. It is difficult to know whether in actuality working-class people indeed spend less time and effort to "create " their romantic mo­ ments, but clearly, for middle- and upper-middle-class respondents, a ro­ mantic atmosphere results from an expressive and individualistic con­ ception of the self. 15 The ethos of spontaneity echoes that of creativity. Listen, for exam­ ple, to two men relate how they would go about having a romantic mo.

.

.

The Class of Love ment. First, an investment banker: " Have dinner in a real romantic restaurant. On the spur of the moment pick up a flight and go to the South of France. Something like that" (interview 4). An actor: "I sup­ pose it would involve a certain amount of surprise and spontaneity. . . . It might involve, 'let's get in the car and drive to the beach and have a picnic'; in the middle of dinner say 'let's go away for the weekend,' that kind of element of spontaneity " (interview 3 3 ). Male working-class re­ spondents never referred to spontaneity in this fashion. While upper­ middle-class men easily articulated this ideal of spontaneity, it was not self-consciously spelled out by working-class men. But even if working­ class men and women never referred to the value of spontaneity, they were not necessarily any less spontaneous about their feelings. Rather, such spontaneity presupposes availa bility of and total control over one's time and money, as indicated by a male electrician.

What do you think are the consequences, if any, of having a lot of money?

on

romantic relationship s

Actually, I'd love to h ave a l ot of money, but [laughs] I don't think, uh­

Do you think it would cha nge anything in your relationships to have a lot of money? Well, I'd be able to do a lot mo re t hi n gs than I do now. Like what, for example? I'd love to go to Jamaica , love to go to Hawaii, love to go to Japan, love to say to somebody, " Pack your clothes. Let's go. We're going for a weekend or we're going for a week." Something like this. If I had the money, I'd love to. (Interview 3 6) For this man, money mea nt the ability not only to travel but to do it on the spur of the moment. The ideal of spontaneity was rooted in and made possible by objective resources of time and money. Class di fferences were apparent as well in the interview situation it­ self. Working-c lass respondents were hesitant and sometimes reluctant to answer my questions , whereas upper-middle-class respondents, both men and women, talked at great length . The average l ength of a working-class interview was one h our; for middle-class and u pper­ middle class respondents, interviews frequently lasted over two hours. Working-class people ga ve short and matter-of- fact answers; the tone of middle and upper-middle-class answers was chatty, light, and often confidenti al.

The Business of Love

2.60

Part of the working-class resistance to the interview stemmed from their feelings of incompetence. They answered for example, "That's a hard question , " "You're taxing my mind," "I don't really know," " I don't have the words for it." On the other hand, if and when middle­ and upper-middle-class respondents resisted the interview, it was because they felt too competent. They reacted to the props used during the in­ terview with the same scorn tha t they expressed for manufactured ro­ mantic objects in general . You said before you don 't like any of the stories {see chapter 5 for the stories/, but still, I was wondering if you can say which one of the stories you like best. Let's skip that question.

I

would prefer not to, if you don t ob;ect to '

it

too much.

I am afraid we have to. Bec a use I am an art reader and I write rath e r well . It wo ul d be very difficult t o de ve l o p any goo d story o u t o f any of t h ese sto­ r ie s . It would

be, I suppose, a

sort

of Harlequin novel.

You see, none of these stories has by any means any ambition or pretension to be what you call a "good" story. It is not supposed to be aesthetic. In each story, there is a different ending. Here people fall in love immediately, here it takes them mOTe time, here they meet through their parents. The style is dry because it has to be readable by everybody. I am simply inter­ ested in how you interpret these stories. (Interview 6) This interview with a well-established New York artist condensed the scorn that ohen accompanies the cultivation of "distinction" character­ istic of the highest segments of artistic bohemia. Another respondent also expressed this scorn in a more subtle form : Which picture do you find the most romantic?

In my terms of romance ? Yes.

have a little tr ou ble because I see them all c l iche So, in a wa y I have a ha rd time relating to them, as identifying with them because they look so constructed by somebody's ideas. I mean t hey are from advertising but you know that they're all alike . . . . Because to me they are li ke a nother kind of Hallmark ca rd s and they are v e ry much keyed into fashion. This one a stereotype of se n si t i vi ty and married couple, so I don't really re l a te to them.

These are very loaded pictures. I .

2. 6 1

The Class of Love

Do you know more specifically what you find cliched i n them? Actually, when I look at this one, for example [figure I I , that one is the least extreme, I suppose all of them in some ways but you know for some reason I can't help seeing as someone who has done this photograph to ap­ peal to a group of people who would be maybe more mature and going out to d inner. I keep thinking of the person making the photograph rather than, I am blocked identifying with them.

Thus, this is the cliche of what? Urn, married couple going out to dinner, you know, family life is not ex­ cluded from this image. ( Female artist, interview 1 3 ) This interviewee also refused the terms set by the interview and rejec ted the photographs on the grounds that they were commercially and insti­ tutionally manufactured and thereby not even worth reacting to. Several studies have argued that " creativity" and originality are par­ ticularly prized by the middle- and upper-middle-class, but why ? 1 6 Bour­ dieu would argue that these values actually depend on cultural capital, in a more or less explicit fashion. When asked why he would not choose card I (the H a ll m a r k card) , a respondent put the poin t bluntly: " Because I am an educated person, I have my own words . I wouldn't take some­ b ody else's" (male university professor, interview I ) . For this man, writ­ ing a love note dema !l ded the same verbal facility as su cceedi n g in col­ lege does: a cultivation of " persona l" tastes and opinions and an a bility to articulate them clearly and effectively. On ly someone comforta ble with verbal sel f·expression will feel at ease with the ethos of creativity advocated by upper-middle-class respondents. In contrast, in the course oftheir socialization, working-class people have been led to consider such verbal competence as outside of the reach of their

capacity and identity. Not h a v i ng attended college, they are less familiar with the formal exercise of self-expression, and they viewed H a ll m a rk cards as useful aids for overcoming difficulties in expressing love As a working­ class man said, "J have the feelings, but I don't have the words for it. " This does not mean that working-class respondents were less competent at ex­ .

pressing love than their upper-middle-class counterparts. It does mean, however, that working-class people perceived themselves as incompetent in domains traditionally related to school performance. Because romance is culturally constructed as an essentially linguistic form of expression, the feeling of linguistic incompetence spills over into the domain of romance. The class differences displayed in romantic pra ct ice parallel not only differences in education but di fferences in work as well. Not only

1.61.

The Business of Love

do upper-middle-class j obs often require a mastery of grammar and vocabulary, these jobs are also l ikely to require creativity and au­ tonomyP Working-class j obs, on the other hand, are less likely to engage linguistic skills or the autonomous and creative self. This would suggest a more straightforward relationship between the sphere of work and that of romance than has usually been assumed. The notion of cultural capital has recently come under criticism by American sociologists who argue that it is problematic to illuminate the reproduction of inequalities in American society because in American society, high culture is not as valued as it is in Europe, France in par­ ticular. 1 8 My own findings do not support these critiques. Although in my respondents' answers cultural capital does not a lways take the straightforward form of " high" culture, as is more likely to be true in Europe, abilities such as choosing a tasteful greeting card, writing a love note in clear but moving prose, carrying on an " intelligent" conversa­ tion, avoiding cliches, and so on a re equally forms of cultural capital, ones that appear almost exclusively in the romantic practices of people who have earned degrees beyond the college level, professionals as well as cultural specialists. Although it is difficult to say j ust how central these forms of distinction are, it remains that middle-class and upper-middle­ class respondents, women in particular, a re receptive to such eu­ phemistic expressions of cultural taste, which they interpret as mani­ festations of romance . The greater attention they pay to individual " taste" and self­ expression might imply, on the surface, that middle-class respondents are less dependent on the industry of romantic culture than working­ class respondents. However, although middle-class and, especially, upper-middle-class people often derided commercialization, I found that not only were they avid consumers of romantic commodities but also they were likely to experience the stereotypical romantic moments they otherwise often deride. For example, a university professor with an in­ come above $70,000 suggested that "a romantic night would be getting dressed up and going out, I guess champagne always makes it more ro­ mantic, coming back and being together and doing something intimate at home, after we went out" (interview I ). Describing a romantic evening with her husband the day before the interview, a female lawyer with a combined income over $ 1 00,000 said, "We had a really romantic after­ noon yesterday, we went to see a movie, New York Stories, we came back in a cab, we came home, and I made champagne cocktails, and we had the champagne and we made love and we had dinner and we watched a

The Class of Lo ve

video and we just stayed horne together" (interview 2 3 ) . D ressing up, drinking champagne cocktails, riding in a taxi, taking a long time (af· ternoon and evening) during a " norma l " week to engage in leisurely and intimate activities require relatively large amo unts of time and money and full participation in the market of l uxuries . 1 9 Class differences go beyond sheer expense, however, for working-class experiences of romance seem much less dependent on commodities:

Can you give me an examp le of an actual romantic moment you have had? Recently, someone came over to have dinner. That was very romantic. What was romantic about i t?

I was h a p py to see her. It co u l dn 't be enough to prepare for the me et i n g. We talked about what she w a s doi ng . (Male private in ve stiga tor, interview 2.2.).

Can you describe a n actual romantic moment you have experience d? Well, we were at Hane's Point and there 's a rea l l y, re a lly-ah , it w a s the Fourth of July, ah, fireworks and everything, just, you k n ow, we were really togethe r. I don't know. It just came on me in impulse.

What was romantic about that moment? We were j ust close togeth er, rea l c lo se, I guess, it just, it looked like it was c omi n g right at us.

You mean the fi rewo rks? Yeah, just-you know, he j ust grabbed me real close and it just fe lt really warm at that time. (Female secu r ity officer, i nte r v i e w 3 7 )

Can you give me an example of an actual ro mantic moment? This library [in a) law office where she worked as a secretary brings one to mi n d , with a coworker p u tting up books and setting things up and organiz­ ing and touc h i n g hands, someth ing like that to me would be v e ry romantic. (Female secretary, interview I S ) What was

a romantic moment ),ou have experienced?

I was wa lk i ng on the s tre et and he came behind me and he sa id " H i , it's me! " and he held my hand, it was intimate, it wa s just like no one was a round even though it was a b usy street, there wa s like no one existed. (Fe­ male police offic e r, interview 2. 1 )

For these people (only one o f whom was educated two years beyond high school), romance was grounded in physical and emotional i ntimacy

The Busi ness of Love

( h o ldi ng hands in the office or the street, being to gethe r w a tchi ng pub­ lic fireworks, etc.) and not in an ela borate atmosphere saturated with ro­ m a ntic meanings and s u ppo rted by various expensive "romantic " props . Compare the s im ple response cited above of the working-class man who found it romantic that " recently someone came over to have d i nne r, with that of a coll ege -edu cated movie distributor: "I remember once, some years ago, just off th e top of my head, having dinner with a young woman in a sushi restaurant and I found that ve ry s he had never eaten sushi be fore and, ah, sort of the, for the first time experienced how sen­ sual that food can be, because it's raw flesh, I s upp o se, ultimately. I re­ member very much enjoying that, that moment, that exte nded moment of sharing that foo d, and there is a re al sort of physical co nnecti o n , you know, the fo o d between us, and that so rt o f th i ng (interview 3 4 ) . Middle- and upper-middle-class respondents dwelled much more on the physical, material, and atmospheric components of the romantic mo­ ment than did working-class respondents, who rare l y mentioned the role played by beautiful, expensive, or rare o b j ec ts in their romantic mo­ ments.20 Furthermore, middle- and upper-middle-class respo n de nts not only tended to make greater us e of commodities, and of expen si ve com­ modities, in romance, but also tended much more than members of the wo r k i ng class to spiritualiz.e commodities, m aking them the carriers of romantic atm os phe re and, at times, of their feelings as well. The commodity-centered character of the upper-middle-class rom a nti c experience goes hand-in-hand with the fact that this experience is more stereotypical t h a n that of the working class, that is, it corresponds more c l osely to the cliches codified by mass culture. This can be seen again in the kind of travel associated with romance. While more than half of the mid­ dle-class re s ponde nts mentioned a romantic m ome nt in a fore ign country or in some other faraway place, wor k ing c l a ss people tended to escape from their urban environment by going to p arks (like Hane's Point in Washing­ ton, D.C.) or to places less than a day away by automob i le (like New Hope or the Poconos from Phi l ade lphia ) . One reason for this difference is rather straightforward: working cla ss respondents have li ttle surpl us income and ti me to go on v acati on s in fore ig n countries. Tourism and the p ara ph e rna ­ lia of monume nts and prepackaged sites occ upied a central p l a c e in the ro­ mantic memories of middle- and uppe r middle-cl as s respo nde nts : "

-

"

-

-

-

What was a very romantic moment you have experienced? has been a whi le, urn, probably when I was traveling with someone through Italy and we we re at the Spanish Steps in Rome. The moon was

It

The Class of Love out, we bought some wine, and we sat on the steps. We were a little older, everybody a round was students, and I started to sing, I was an opera singer, and a whole group came and surrounded me, was applauding me. When they left, it was just the two of us, it was a very special moment, a very spe­ cial feeling. (Male investment banker, interview 4 )

This answer evokes ready-made images of romance that have been in­ cessantly conveyed through the cliches of Hollywood cinema and ad­ vertising. Consider another example: "Finally, one evening in Paris, it has snowed, we walked for a long time, we ended up on the Eiffel Tower and we kissed each other, it was the first night I ever was with anyone and because for so long I had dreamed about that, it was wonderful" (male orchestra conductor, interview 3 3 ) . This scene evokes the familiar imagery of romance we examined in chapter 3: Paris, for Americans the exotic, romantic city par excellence (just as the Eiffel Tower is the sym­ bol par excellence of Paris), the "special" atmosphere of nighttime and snow. Both memories mix exotic travel settings, symbo ls of distinction, and commodities. In my interviews, the very "scripted" character of the scenes evoked by upper-middle-class respondents was readily discernible. This is not surprising since the ideas and ideals at work in mass culture usually rep­ resent the practices, values, and interests of the upper segments of soci­ ety. What makes the finding noteworthy is that the upper-middle-class romantic discourses were explicitly geared against the mass cultural and stereotypical practices of romance. The same respondents who most vo­ cally rejected the commercial and codified character of romance were also those who reported the most stereotypical and the most deeply mar­ ket-based practices of romance. As Mike Featherstone puts it, "The wealthy have always been able to display style by demassifying and in­ dividualizing commodities. " 2 1 L O V E A N D S Y M B O L I C D O M I N AT I O N

These findings still leave unanswered the question a t the heart o f this chapter: do romantic practices follow a logic of class domination? As one working-class man in my sample asked rhetorically, "So you give a dozen flowers, instead of one, so what difference does it make ? " He suggests to sociologists that even if we can demonstrate that romantic practices differ along dimensions of income, education, or both, we cannot yet claim that certain groups are at a disadvantage when expe­ riencing romance. In other words, the problem is to determine whether

Th e Business o f love

266

and how we can make the transition, so often taken for granted, from an analysis of patterns of cpnsumption to a sociology of "class domi­ nation. The a rgument about cultural domination makes several dis­ tinct claims: ( I ) cultural practices differ along class lines; (2) the domi­ nated c lasses define and posit their own cultural practices in reference to upper-class definitions of romance; ( 3 ) the cultural standards a dopted by the dominated groups reflect the particular positions and interests of the dominant classes; and ( 4 ) because they recognize as le­ gitimate cultural practices that in effect exclude them, the culture of dominated groups is a culture "by default," deprived of a positive con­ tent of its own.22 The remainder of this chapter, then, will be concerned with questions raised by the hypothesis of cultural deprivation. Are the lower segments of society romantically less competent than their up­ per-class counterparts? Is the standard middle-class formula the only legitimate formula of romance? From my interview data, I contend that the commercial formula of romance is easily accessed and experienced by the working class and the middle class when both groups are dating. Even if choices of consump­ tion remain different, these differences have no consequences for the lovers' ability to "have a good time together," to express and live their love. It is when people get married that the qualitative romantic experi­ ences of the two groups start to diverge significantly. Following Sci­ tovsky, one may say that once people start sharing daily life, they move from an intense feeling to a comfortable one, and that the phenomenol­ ogy of their love changes: the challenge of the dati ng period is to expe­ rience intensity and to bring this intensity to the "comfort" of intimacy; on the other hand, during marriage, the problem is to bring a comfort­ able, familiar and sometimes dull relationship to the renewed experience of intensity.23 Although my working-class and upper-middle-class re­ spondents coped equally well with the first challenge, the former seem definitely more ill-equipped to cope with the problem of creating inten­ sity within the daily bond of marriage_ It is precisely at this point, that is, where intensity must be voluntarily and skillfully created, that dif­ ferences of i ncome, leisure resources, and education play an important role in the political economy of love. A working-class woman, a secre­ tary, recalled from her early days of dating, "We would do many things, we would go to the movies, flea markets, we used to rummage a lot, we would travel together. . We traveled a bit together, out to dinner, spend a lot of time with friends" (interview 1 6). A working-class homemaker had similar memories: "

_

_

The Class of Love

Can

),ou

remember a romantic moment [ill your relationship with your

husband]?

I would dr i v e to his house-this is back to the gasoli ne crisis a n d we would drive together to work. Naturally, he was always dressed w it h a s h i rt and tie. This particular day he had no tie and his shirt open, a n d there was, I thought, wow! It seemed like Robert Redford wa l k ing in the street, like that feeling when you see somebody you l i ke in a movie. Anyway, there was that time when we went dow n to the shore, no, I was sick, scrap that time. It must have been when we spent the weekend together, just spend the weekend together, i t was j ust that spending time toget her .

Did you use to spend time together? Yes

we spent a lot of ti me together.

What lVould you do?

at t hi ngs go to mov i es maybe, a lot of times at home, m a ybe that's what we did, spend tim e together. all th at starts fa ll i ng apart when kids c o me along, that messes up your sch ed u l e (Interview 9 )

Go sho pping, or look

,

.

In the dating situation, middle-class standards of romance do not put working-class people at a disadvantage and do not create an incompe­ tence. Having neither children nor mortgage, the dating working-class couple has the surplus income and time to engage in inexpensive leisure pursuits. Even if participation in the realm of leisure is more limited for the working class than for the middle or upper middle class, this does not affect the quality and intensity of their romantic feelings. In the dat­ ing situation, the need for intensity is met "naturally" by the beginning stages of love; the couple is thereby functionally less dependent on the leisure market to satisfy this need . Furthermore, working-class respon­ dents' autobiographical accounts indicated that they were more likely to fall in love intensely and quickly than their middle- or upper-middle-class counterparts, who by contrast often seemed to move more slowly and cautiously. One possible reason for this difference is that, being less wor­ ried about social mobility than their middle- and upper-middle-class counterpa rts, working-class respondents have less at stake in falling in "love at first sight" and are less likely to conceive of their bonds in ra­ tionalized terms. At the beginning of a relationship, then, the frequency, object, and mode of consumption have little bearing on the competence necessary feel romance. From my respondents' accounts, nothing indicates that differences in income or education hampered their ability to form ex­ alting or interesting romantic bonds. This implies that we cannot

268

The Business of Love

deduce class domination or exclusion from class consumption: while in the dating situation, different patterns of romantic consumption do not interfere with the lived experience of love; these patterns become obstacles to love only within the framework of the daily life of those who have the least resources to carry on the leisure-based formula of romance. When romance becomes integrated within the daily life-world and lifestyle of people, that is, when its intensity fades away and it no longer occupies the spare time of the couple, it becomes intertwined with the inequalities and lack of resources inherent to working-class lives. These inequalities take two forms: ( I ) Married working-class people practice the commercial romantic formula significantly less often do than their upper-middle-class counrerparts, who, even after marriage, continue to be full members of the leisure market. ( 2) The working class and the up­ per-middle class have different patterns of romantic communication: while upper-middle-c1ass people share many forms of companionate leisure ( which is itself related to their broader cultural habitus), work­ ing-class men and w omen com municate less than their middle- and up­ per-middle-class counterparts. CLASS, ROMANCE, AND T H E S T R U C T U R E O F E V ERY D AY L I F E

Frequency marks another class difference i n romance. I n m y interviews, romantic memories were typically more distant in time for working­ class than for upper-middle-class respondents. For example, a working­ class man cited an experience " twelve years ago," whereas upper-mid­ dle-class respondents referred to romantic moments that had taken place a few days or even the day before the interview. None of the working­ class-respondents said that they had had a romantic evening in the week prior to the interview. In fact, many elements of their responses indicated that the working-class people struggled much more than upper-middle­ class respondents to experience romance in their daily lives. The most obvious explanation for this is shortage of money. When asked to reflect on the "problems that people in general en­ counter in their relationships," the only people in the sample who men­ tioned lack of money came from the ranks of the working class. You need money to survive, the more money you have, the easier . . . it is to get along in life. Money problems can be a real hardship on marriage. Do you think that love alone can make a couple happy?

The Class of Love Initially yes, but after a relation s h i p , no. It's nor reality You have to have money. .

Why? Because it al lows you to have, to do this extraspecial thing that keeps the love going. Like going to din n er together, going out, going anywh ere to­ gether, possibly taking a trip, only the two of you, it all takes money to do that. Aside from that, just to be able to get th rou gh your monthly pay­ ments your bills, you're pa y i ng for y ou r apa rtment and whatever it may be, without worrying. It all helps make things easy. ,

If you had been richer, do you think this would have changed your relationships? I think we ha\'e less stress in our relationships, if we had more money. (Fe­ male secretary, interview 1 6)

In 1 9 74, Andrew Levison observed that despite their apparent prosper­ ity, working-class people are caught in difficult financial struggles be­ cause, after paying for the mortgage, the car, and other expenses, there is not much surplus income for leisure: "Many workers, in the elation of the first days after their honeymoon, lock themselves into a lifetime of debt when they buy a house and furniture to add on the payments they are already making on their car. From then on, their freedom to travel, or to try a new job, or just engage in a range of activities outside work is taken from them by the structure of debt in which they are enmeshed. "24 This is undoubtedly even more the case today because of the progressive erosion of real income that has characterized the last decade.25 As Collins and Coltrane put it, for working-class people " the most serious source of . . . unhappiness . . . is simply economic pressure. "26 Such pressure is particularly acute during the first years of marriage, precisely during the transition from steady dating to a settled married life. By contrast, only when probed did middle-class and upper-middle­ class respondents admit that lack of money could be-theoretically­ a problem. Rarely did they spontaneously refer to it as a concrete prob­ lem in their own relationships or even in those of people they knewP Instead, they framed problems in relationships in psychological or moral categories pertaining to the self, typically in terms of the "gen­ uineness " or "authenticity" of their feelings. For example, the male or­ chestra conductor cited, as ""the problems most people encounter in their relationships, " Having illusions about the other one. And not ac­ cepting the other one's feelings and j udging the other one's feelings in­ stead of trying to accept the m " ( i nterview 3 3 ) . Contrast this answer

The Business of Love

170

with the following response from a janitor: "The only problems that I have ever had is financial problems . . . . That causes problems. That's why I say if two people really love each other, you really get through these problems. And maybe that's why we both get along, because money doesn't really mean that much to us. If you have it, it's fine, if you have enough to survive, it's fine, but it's not really important" ( in­ terview 4 0 ) . This man denied and at the same time acknowledged the effects of money on his marriage. When asked to talk genera lly about their romantic lives, working­ class people rarely referred to money-related difficulties, instead char­ acterizing their lives as unconducive to romance . However, asked to talk more specifically about the difficulties they had encountered in their relationships or to reflect on the role of money in romantic rela­ tionships, working-class answers differed from those of the upper­ middle-class. A secretary with a high-school education thought that, for "most people, the number one problem is money. Maybe the man doesn't make enough m on e y to give the girl what she wants or take her out a s many times as she wan ts and the girl can resent that. Or jea lo usy, one partner is more success­ ful than the other or. . . . [inaudible] about we should do t hi s fifty-fifty," th ere is a lot of figh t s about that, I think. Money is the biggest problem. "

Was this also your problem? Yes, it was. ( I nte rv iew 1 8)

A man with a high-school education and

a working-class background, but who was upwardly mobile, gave the following response:

Do )'OU think that mon ey is important for love? Yes. Everybody says if you really love somebody, yo ur money doesn't mat­ ter. You can be poor and a l l that. But I've seen too much. I\'e seen money, or r a ther the lack of money, d r iv e families a pa rt, because if you love some­ b ody but you do n t ha ve a n y money, then you're spe nd i ng all your ti me working, trying to get money, and it c a use s resentment and they're not go­ ing to be in t he greatest mood if yo u don't have the kind of food they want. They c an t s pe n d that kind of time on their relationship because you've got to worry about the money. So it caused a lot of st re ss and problems and worries and all that. . . . But if you have money, I am sure t ha t g i ve s you the t im e , you c a n be with the pe rson as much as you want, spend the kind of t i m e you want, not time working, but time getting to k no\'\r' each other and having fun with each other and concentrating on the relationship. So money definitely plays an important role. ( Ma le boxer, int e rv ie w I S ) '

'

The Class of Love Money was seen to affect romance in two ways: through the pressures pro­ duced by daily worries about bread-and-butter issues and by creating stress and competition between working-class men and women. But as in d icate d in the quote above, the importance of money was seen to lie not only in the commodities it c ould buy but also in the leisure time it made available.I8

The different role attributed to money by different soci a l groups was also apparent in the re s pon de nts ' interpretations of story 3 : the only peo­ p l e who dismissed this story as " boring, " "dull," " mediocre, " or to o "calculated" and " yuppieish" were middle- and, es pecia l ly, upper­ middle-class respondents. Working-class re spondents typi cal l y liked the t hi rd story because they i nterpreted it as a love story with " financial se­ curity. " The janitor, for example, tho ugh t that "this couple has proba­ bly a better chance than the other two. " Why? Well, they had more time to k now each other, and they both seemed secure in what they were d oi ng . Because I think, today in the world situation, you have to have some kind of security to make a marriage work.

Do you think they are righ t to wait for the promotion? I don't k n ow, I guess so, I guess today may b e I would have. In the world economy, maybe to be a little more secure. You don't have any kind of se­ curity today. That's hard and that creates problem s . (Interview 40) By contrast, upper-middle-class r espo nden ts criticized the "c al cul ate d " a spect o f the story i n the name of an ethos of disinterestedness and spon­ taneity. Th e more one is removed from material necessity, it appears, the more one is l i ke l y to denounce calculation and the struggle for security

in romantic bonds. When middle-class re s pon den ts talked about their sho r tag e s of money, they reverted to a vision close to that of the working class, bu t with many hedges. For e xam ple, a mu s ic conductor who had lived in Paris for a few years-unemployed-reflected on the financial difficul­ tie s that arose in his re latio n s hip with a French woman there:

Do you feel that money ;s important for love? Surprisingly, I do.

Why surprisingly? Because I am an a rtist and artists are su ppo sed to be very idealist. Only love exists.

The Business of Love

Artists are supposed to be idealists. Artists are supposed to be so idealistic that love is the only important thing. Money is horrible. I think that money itself is not important, and it's not a rea­ son to, to love someone, but I think money is important, is important in that without it you can't really do what you want to do, you can't really express, it's very hard to express what you have inside and chis I have experienced, be­ ing in a relationship and not having money, you automatically, there is an im­ balance. You can't do things you would like to do, there is an inequality.

Did she hat'e money? Yes, she didn't have a lot, but she had money.

What kind of things did you want to do that you couldn't? First, there is the problem, each time we went out there was a problem, we were always very careful, which I never liked, because that's not the way I am. I would like [Q j ust be, just not worry a bout that. I like inviting people to do things, like get little gifts to someone, if I see something that I like I like to get it. That's a problem, living w ith someone and not being able to pull my share. I think that in that way money is important. (Interview 3 3 )

This man experienced the lack of money as a double so urce o f p rob ­ lems : n ot o nly did it affect his sense of self-worth (he did not fulfill h is alleged role of pro v i der ), but it a lso p r even te d the couple from engag­

ing in e n j oyable leisure pursuits. Despite his-admittedly temporary­ e x pe r ien ce of strained economic circumstances, this man r e pe ated tile ri tual midd le -class expression of repugnance to mon ey ( "money is hor­ rible " ), an aversion never expressed by wo r k in g-c lass re s p onden ts. But even when the romantic i n te rc h ange did not demand large ex­ pen d i tu re s of money or time and took place inside the home, the ro ­ mantic practices of married w o r k i ng-c l ass and upper-middle-class re­ s p on de n ts differed a great deal. Let us listen to two voices, the first of a w o rk i ng -c lass h om e m a k e r : What would you do if you wanted to have a romantic evening? 1 think that a romantic evening at this point in my life would be simply go­

ing out_ We are talking about someone who has been married fourteen years and has two kids and . . . because my husband and I have been mar­ ried so man}' years, just going out, going to dinner, or even going to a movie and stopping at the [inaudible) to do something, that would be ro­ mantic. It would have to be without worrying about coming home at a cer­ tain time. . . I am j ust saying there is no room to even think about being romantic, you know what I mean ? Our lives are not like they are on televi­ sion. ( I nte rvi ew 9 ) _

The Class of L ove

2.7 3

The second belongs to a successful female lawyer, married and well edu­ cated: (Afte r describing a romantic restaurant.] T her e a re different kinds of ro­ mantic evenings.

\Vhat, for example? You just decide that you are going to make love that n igh t and you do nothi ng but just make love, that wou ld be a different kind of eve n ing, or we would si t t oge t he r and look at old photographs and talk about what ha ppe ne d a few years ago. That would be romantic.

Do you often have romantic moments like that? Yes, I think so.

You mean, you det'ote a lot of time to it? Well,

I try to. I think we both get the urge for it, after we wo rk so hard and

we come home and you a re t ired d u ri ng the week. But the weekends or

when we a re on vacation or eve n some weeknights when we get home early, we try to do something nice, ro m a ntic toge t he r, kind of quiet, the two of us and l ovin g. (Interview 2. 3 1

Romance was not e x perie nce d as frequently b y the working-class woman as by the u pper-middle-class one. Are these d ifferences due to the length of her marriage and the presence o f children, or are there other reasons? As we will see, the differences are related to their leisure and financial resources as well as to the mode of interaction between wife and husband, that is, in the respective role they assume and their patterns o f communication. Several married work ing -c la ss women in the sa mp l e suggested that the home was not a romantic place because of the burden of domestic chores. For these women, who could not afford outside help and whose husbands were less l i ke l y to help, the house w as more work than for upper-middle-class women , who were more often a ble to pay for out­ side help and also were more likely to be married to men who shared domestic duties.29 Moreover, as Randall Co ll ins argues, work ing-c l ass women invest a particularly high a mount of time i n domestic labor be­ cause a neat and clean ho me is a so u rce of status.30 Do you often have {romanticl moments like that? Not often e nou gh , when we have chi ldren, it changes romance

In what way?

in m a r ri age.

The Business of Love

2. 74

Well, you don't have the time, you're too preoccupied taking care of your family to have a lot of time for romance. There is always some type of ro­ mance in a good marriage but you don't get the time to go to the beach just the two of you, which would be an ideal situation. (Interview 1 6) For this woman, time more than mo ne y dep ri ve d her of the more fre q uen t romantic moments en j oyed by th e upper-middle-class women inteviewed. One could argue that, more than either money or time, children are th e real obstacle to a fr e q u ent experience of r omanc e . David Halle, for ex­ ample, has s h own convincingly that the leisure activities of the work i ng-class man are significantly curtailed when he ma r r i es and has chil­ dren, but that these patterns change again wh en the working-class co up l e has finished taking care of children. Thus, we should n ot " m is ta k[el one stage in the life cycle, a stage when leisure is particularly restricted, for the

essence of leis ure among the working-class. " 31 Th is view i m p lie s that the presence of children, more than class, acc oun ts for the fact that working­ class peo pl e rarely experi ence romance. Halle's sensible argument explains to a great extent the differences in le is u r e an d romance found in my study, but it does not account for 1\...0 othe r find ings. First, the married upper­ middle-class respondents who had children did n ot seem h am pe red by t he m in th ei r p urs uit of romance, a s worki ng-cl a ss cou ples often were. Middle- an d upper-middle-class women who had chi l dre n and worked outside the home (most of the working-class mothers stayed at home ) usu­ ally did not mention the presence of children as a hindrance to romance. When they did ack now ledge that children made romance more difficult, these women maintained that romance was always possible "if one puts e n ough time and effort into a relationship," by focus i ng on weekends, for exa m p l e , or making "a specia l effort." Transferring the work ethic into their perso na l relationships, they viewed the creation of romance as u nder their control, a r esult of wil l ed and skillful effort.32 Thus, lack of leisure time is only p artl y explained by the presence of children. The other findi n g is that even romantic moments demanding little leisure time were reported si gn i fic antly less fre qu e ntly by work in g- cla s s r es po n d ents than by upper-middle-class r es p on de nts. Contrast, for ex­ a mpl e, the responses of working-class wo m en cited above w it h the fol­ l ow i ng one from an about-to-be-married, upper-middle-class man: So you think that romance lasts after marriage?

Obviously, I don't have marriage experience, but from experience of going out with someone for a long time, it can last if you keep it alive. But again,

2. 75

The C la ss of Love

if y o u do th i n gs once in a wh i l e that you consider ver)' romantic, you c an keep it going.

How would you keep it alive? That was an example of a romantic e ve n ing ( dress i ng up, drinking ch a mp a g ne and go i ng out to a formal dance), so by making su re you get d ressed u p even th ou gh sort of no c ourt in g anymore, make sure you do t hings out of the o rd in a ry once in a wh i l e. (Male university p r ofessor, interview I )

As this answer shows, the ability to "rekindle" (as the women's maga­ zines put it) moments of passion by creating the conditions for roman­ tic rituals is grounded in the middle-class belief that routine is not in­ evitable but can be avoided by skill and effort. The middle-class ideal of communication also shows how the ability to maintain romance in daily life depends on one's class ethos. As we have seen, people with higher cultural ca pital tend to place a higher value on verbal communication in relationships, and this affects the experience of intimacy. My h us b a nd and I ha d read something, by t h e time you are m ar r ied x num­ ber of years, you say only x n u m ber of word s , ma y be som eth i ng like fifteen or twenty, and I s a i d , "That would never h ap p en It h a ppen s , it happens. . n

Is it good or bad? It forces you s om et im es to st op and say, " You wanna tal k ? " When a ques· tion pops in to your head, you just k now the answer. . . . If there a re t h i ngs in his work, o r the peop l e h e wor k s w it h he does not talk about th em . I would be mo re inclined to talk about the pe o pl e that I know, le t s say that are vo l u ntee r i ng at school, I would be more inclined to say, "Oh! So and so did such and such," you know, that sort of t hin g and I am not going to say it just to k ee p the conversation g oi ng b u t bec a u se i t 's my life. His work i s his life. He d o es not come home and te l l m e a bo u t the pr o ble ms that t he y h a d , s ome t hi ng with another department, because t hat s n ic e , he knows I ( i n a ud i b le ] care. He knows he does not need to talk about it. If he wa nts to talk about sp e ci fic peopl e or spec ific e vents o r s o m eth i ng that happened at work, that's different, yo u know, but it depe nds, what interests me, wh a t i nterests h i m and if what interests me d oe s n t interest him, and there are so many things t h at don't-I am very careful about choosing my words-so therefore what I am sa yi ng is t h at it would be a grea t put·off t o him if I started t al k i n g about the other th i n gs that I do. ( H o mem a k e r, interview 9 ) ,

'

,

'

,

'

Asked i f she found it romantic just to talk with her partner, another working-class woman said, "At times I could, but my husband is really

The Business of Love not a good talker. He is not a talker at all. There have been times when we have talked and it was a romantic talk but that does not happen very often at all" (secretary, interview 1 6 ). For working-class respondents, "communication " is a means to share information in order to fix prob­ lems. For upper-middle-class respondents, it intensifies their bond not only through the resolution of conflicts but by the exchange of ideas and tastes and the avowal of emotion. Furthermore, this class difference was more pronounced for men than for women in my sample. While in upper-middle-class couples, both men and women placed a high value on "talking, " among the working-class cou­ ples it was only women who did so (without, however, the stress on debat­ ing and intellectual challenge). For example, in response to a question about his most memorable romantic experience, a working-class man answered: I don't know how 1 would start it. As far as-I don't know how I would start it. I tended bars years and years ago, and a nice French girl, 1 spent, I don't know how to describe. [ don't know, it was a very passionate woman, it's all ] could say. It was very nice experience because it was very romantic, winter, and we really did a lot of things together. I don't know how to put it into words. But it was a very nice thing. Can you describe the feeling of being

in love?

That's hard to put into words. [ guess when you really love someone it's a nice feeling, because they're always there for }'ou. When it's both ways. It's nice to know no matter what you do, you're going to have somebody there to back you up no matter what you do. To me love is a two-way street. You can overcome everything if you love somebody no matter what, it al­ ways works out. To me. (Janitor, interview 40) This man's difficulty expressing himself, his own perception that "he d oes not have the words for it," contrasts with the verbal facility of up­ per-middle-class respondents, who talked with an obvious ease, dwelling at length on various shades of feeling.)) The gender ga p in communication is much wider for the working class than it is for the upper middle class. In his update of the study of Mid­ dletown, Theodore Caplow confirms these findings (without, however, elaborating on them). He observes that in the late sixties and seventies there was an upsurge of advice literature advocating "communication " in marriage. Despite these models, however, working-class couples still were having difficulties communicating with each other.34 And in her study of working-class marriage, Lillian Rubin concluded that "the role segregation and the consequent widely divergent socialization patterns

2 77

The Class of love

for women and men become c l ea rl y dysfunctional . And it is among the working class that such segregation has been more profound . " 35 In the 1 9 9 2 reissue of her study, she found that this had not changed. The fol­ lowing e xc hange from my interviews illustrates this difficulty : Do you often have [romantic talks] with your wife? No. Very r arely. Why? Do you want them? Yes, but I have to force myself to it. Why? Because I l i k e to keep a lot of distance to myself, you know, you have to ta ke these things out of me. I keep a lot of t h i ng s inside me. It builds up un­ til [ ina u di ble I, s o meti me s I want to, sometimes I don't, so it's like some­ thing in the way th at is stopping me.

So you don't like to talk about your feelings? Right, I keep them i ns ide me.

Most men around you, do you think they are romantic or not? Around me? Naaaaah!

How do you know they are not romantic? They just seem l ike they joke a lot.

Joke about what? Anything, they j ust joke. Jokers. They ioke about th eir

wives?

They j ust j oke, jokers. When you joke like this every day, you're just not y ourse lf .

So why do you ioke? Just to make frie nds to be with more friends and to be with, uh, and to get your bad fe el ings out, like sometimes you get bad feel in gs and you j u st j o ke and you just take it away, you know. If you joke with your friends, it takes that moment [awaYI fo r a while, but it comes back after )'OU joke. (Male s upe rm a rke t worker, i nterv ie w 3 2 ) ,

A s this man suggested, the reluctance o f working-class men to express their emotions is an extension of their patterns of communication in the workplace. The " jokes " are ways of venting indirectly feelings that, if expressed directly, might make them seem emotional and therefore weak.

The Business of Love

The nature of most blue-collar work can further deprive men of the opportunity or resources to engage in romance. An extreme illustration of this was provided by one of my male respondents who explained why he divorced his wife: I had a terrible job, [ had to work sometimes twelve hours a day.

What were you doing? ] was lugging pigs, carrying pigs on Fourteenth Street. The idea was, I was supposed to learn and make money, but it wa s damaging the relationship, then I quit. But I think it's more important, you can a lways get a job, it's a hard thing to talk a bout.

When you say it was damaging the relationship, what do you mean i' Well, if you a re wo rk i ng all these hours, sometimes you ca n't speak, you just collapse, and if the person wants some romance perhaps you are prac­ tically unconscious, it's not conducive to n u rt u ri ng a romantic situation. (Private investigator, interview 22)

As this example potently illustrates, the sheer physical exhaustion that often characterizes working-class men's work is an obstacle to casual conversations, intimacy, sexual play, and romance after work.J6 In general, working-class men tend be more controlled and less emotional than their middle-class counterparts,37 Gender roles tend to be more traditional and rigid in working-class households, and male domination of women is more pronounced .J8 The work of middle­ class men typica lly gives them a degree of autonomy and power over others, which can translate into a psychological security at home not enj oyed by working-class men. A more subtle expl anation, however, has been proposed by some Marxist scholars. Because of the demands o f most blue-collar work, working-class men tend to base their iden­ tities a nd sense of worth on their physical strength, prowess, and sta­ mina.39 To be asked to share in activities and attributes associated with women's sphere, such as emotional sensitivity and "talkative­ ness," is experienced as a threat to their virility. This gap is increased by the fact that working-class women, in charge of the " status work" of the family, are exposed to middle-c lass "romantic style " and are likely to adopt elements of middle-class cultural identity,40 thus mak­ ing them even more estranged from the masculine, untalkative ethos of their s pouses. An example will usefully recap the discussion.

The Class of Love

2.79

It seems that once we got married the romance went out the window. That's very important to me. A fter years of fighting, I finally got my point to him, that our marriage was not going out to survive.

What happened before? Coming home from work and falling asleep on the sofa and j ust s a y i ng hello to me and doing short conversation when I would want an arm around me and a re a l p as sionate kiss, something to show me that you are still interested in me. Or he w ou l d never bring me flowers, he would never take me out to dinner, it al\ stopped! All these are romantic gestures!

Why do you think it all stopped when you got married? I have no idea! I think there is a false idea where a lot of people, once they get married, you no longer have to plea s e that person anymore, to make that per­ son feel special anymore, because now you are married, now you have each other for the rest of you r life. But it still counts ! (Homemaker, interview 2. 8 )

As I have s uggested, in the dating stage working-class people show the same romantic competence as their upper-middle-class counterparts, and we see here that, before they got married, this couple was enacting the "correct" script of romance (he was buying flowers, taking her o ut to dinner, etc . ) After marriage, however, living up to the standards of ro­ mance became more difficult, not only because of time and money, but because working-class men and women have different expectations of marriage. While the man expects wife and home to provide him with comfort and emotional security, the woman expects romance, passion, and communication to c ontin u e . If t h ere is a gap in romantic compe­ tence, it is between working-class men and women, a gap that was opened by the middle- and upper-middle-class models of communica­ tion and intimacy that have been disseminated through popular culture and that are consi s tent with women's socialization at large. By contrast, verbal communication is part of the social identity of both men and women of the upper middle class, a part of the an exercise of cul­ tural competence that is important in both their education and their work. As Randall Collins again puts it: "Probably male/female cultural differ­ ences are minimi zed for upper-middle-class men who themselves work in the cultu re-production sector; their own class positions are already in­ v olved in culture-laden activities that match those of their wives, whether the latter are employed or not. "41 Moreover, the talk exchanged by upper­ middle-class men and women during their romantic interactions is instru­ mental in furthering their work activities, as illustrated by the answer of a well-established artist asked what she talked about with her hus b and.

,

The Business of Love

""

tcil ea�h

interesting things that happe ned to each other when ide a s that rea ll)' interest each OIher. Sometimes I would I l l s t read something that I t h i n k is wonderful, I would tell him to read it and talk ahout it. Vice versa . S o m etimes I would be working on something and I would hav e a really good idea and I would just share it with him and he would Kive me his criticism. Someti mes when I write something or when he writes something, we edit each other's writing. And we're k i nd of as brutal as pos­ sible beca use like sometimes it's hard because neither of us get overcome by hurt feelings. We can usually deal with it and take criticism and use it and even hold on to-in the end if I really feel he is right about it, I will make the change. And he is pretty much the same wa)'. So ),ou know we definitely share our work with each other and ideas we have and things that happen to us. (Interview 1 3 )

WI' O I t C I I WI' Me

ot h e r

lIot toKether,

or

This answer helps u s u nderstand one reason why upper-middle-class couples converse more intensely and frequently than working-class couples. Upper-class couples are likely to hold jobs demanding similar in­ tellectual and personal qualities and can therefore use their partners as "critics" or as an audience on whom to test ideas. Or if they work in cor­ porations, conversations about work can help them plan moves, decipher the " boss's " cues, and prepare strategies. This has the double effect of transferring their professional ethos i nto the private sphere (thereby im­ proving their professional performance) and of increasing their commu­ nication with their partners. This intermingling of work and romance does not hinder or jeopardize their capacity to communicate with each other but rather increases it. Bryan and Alsikafi studied the leisure pat­ terns of university professors (and by extension, the "intellectual" pro­ fessions in general) and found that leisure and work greatly overlapped. Leisure was used to derive benefits directly recyclable for work, and vice versa; work provided many reasons to engage in the sphere of leisure.42 Middle-class and upper-middle-class couples enjoy more companionate leisure than do working-class couples, who tend to be more segregated.43 How do working-class women cope with the fact that their husbands do not conform to middle-class models of communication ? The evidence of my sample is mixed. In my interviews, women seemed to hold lower standards of communication than those advocated by mass culture, thus suggesting that they had adapted to their husbands' identity. Television sometimes s hows people that have been married for a real long time, ha v i ng heart-to-heart talks about their deep feeli n gs and holding each other. I don't know anybody who talks that w a y.

What do you

mean,

"that has deep talks " ?

The Class of Love

My husband and I, we have a very good communication, but it is very brief, we are not go in g to get that deep, like you see people talking in the soap operas or on the TV shows. 1 don't think that anybody does that.

What do you

mean

by "that"?

Let's take the soap operas. I t seems t h a t the same couple can sit there for one week, even though they have been married for many many years, and sit there and hold hands and look in each other's eyes and say "I love you " a million times and " You are the only person . " Married people do talk that way but it is not on a daily basis. Maybe we will reflect on these things once a year, on an anniversary or on Valentine's day . . . but it's not on a day-to-day basis. ( Homema ker, interview 2.8)

Echoing other working-class women, this respondent suggested that the the ideal of communication set by soap operas and mass culture gener­ ally was excessive for her own needs_ Working-class women's familiarity with new models of intimacy and masculinity conveyed by mass culture have nonetheless made them ex­ pect something different from their relationships. As Lillian Rubin has suggested, "The daytime soap operas, watched almost exclusively by women, do picture men who may be more open and more available for intimacy. But the men on the soaps don't work at ordinary jobs, doing ordinary things, for eight, ten, twelve hours a day."44 Rubin notes that popular culture in general, and television especially, a re cl o se r to a mid­ dle-class experience. Consequently, working-cla s s respondents are con­ fronted with models that do not reflect their own circumstances but are powerful enough to make wome n expect their marriage to fulfill them.45 The differences in leisure and communication entail different attitudes toward the home among working-class versus upper-middle-class cou­ ples. For my working-class female respondents, and for working-class women generally, the home is viewed as boring and the site of chores rather than leisure.46 This viewpoint in turn seems to define different attitudes toward the role of romance in daily life. When we examine how romance is enacted and lived inside the home, linguistic and cultural competence as well as the availability of leisure time appear to be very important factors in explaining why domestic romance is s o different for the middle and working classes. Recalling what was romanti c about her marriage, a woman in my sample, a social worker with a master's de­ gree in education, said: " For example, on Sunday morning, we just used to read The New York Times to gethe r ( interview 44). In response to the same question, a w or k ing c las s woman said that "the opportunity "

-

The Business of Love

Ill' w i t h y o ur husoand, let's say sit in a bedroom reading a book, that d( )�·s not hi1rp�n in our life, that does not happen " (interview 9). Activi­ ties like reading the Times together or " doing a crossword puzzle " to­ gether use the home as a place of relaxation; by exercising together their cultural competence upper-middle-class couples make their daily do­ mestic interactions romantic. In my sample, only the upper-middle-class respondents intentionally de­ fined romance in ways that explicitly reversed the traditional or standard conception. When expressing their scorn for romantic stereotypes, many respondents claimed, for example, that a romantic moment can be "very mundane. " A man who had l ived for many years with a woman said that one can "find romance in the most m undane situations, just being with the person makes it a wonderful rosy situation, just sitting around, read­ ing together. " The same man, asked what kind of things he usually likes to do with his partner, answered, "Going to the movies, going out to din­ ners, taking trips. I also like a lot of evenings at home, watching television together, fixing dinner together, even cleaning up together afterwards" (in­ terview 2.9). Not only are middle- and upper-middle-class romantic practices more 10

varied than those of the working class, but they are also more inclusive, admitting activities usually excluded from traditional attitudes to ro­ mance ( " just sitting at home, " "watching television," "cleaning up to­ gether " ) . The more affluent respondents suggested that love does not take place in preconceived romantic places and that it can in fact occur within m undane or traditionally unromantic places. As has often been noted about the realm of culture, once upper-middle class people estab­ lish cultural standards, they engage in a more or less reflexive d istanc­ ing from these same standards and are consequently able to opt for "non­ standard," alternative cultural practices.47 Thus the idea that the mundane can also be romantic is an upper-middle-class cliche that aims precisely at the "sentimental" cliches favored by the work ing class: What would be an unromantic thing to do ? That's a tough question. You could say, doing laundry, but if in the middle of doing laundry you start hugging each other and kissing each other, that would be romantic. (Female la...."er, . interview 1 2 )

Another woman, a married, successful artist, after explaining that love can happen in traditionally unromantic settings, opposed the traditional idea of romance in the following way:

The Class of Love

What do you mean by traditionally unromantic settings? What I mea n is something pe dest r ia n , like you fill up your car with gas, al­ though I mea n on the flip side you can have a stylish im age of a gas station that can turn into anything. But trad i ti o n ally whe n people think of rom a n­ tic se tt i ngs , it is n ot often at a tr uck-sto p diner or, you know, on the high­ way, but those locations to me are not excluded from somethi ng that would hav e a sense of ro m a nc e in it. (In terv ie w 1 3 )

Another respondent, a n editor, said that " Romance to m e i s not really giving roses or going to a restaurant. It is not events or props. It i s n o t setting u p certain situations and being in them. It's more o f a feel­ ing that comes naturally from what you do day-to-day . . . . I am much more likely to do something like to be in a store, see something he would like, and buy it for him. That's much more mundane" ( inter­ view 4 5 ) . Contrast those previous answers with the following ones given by working-class women: What would be something unromantic? Almost e veryth i ng that goes o n generally. I guess what I am saying is all of the distractions that are in my life, all of those. I am not go i ng to say it's a p ut-off. I am j u st saying there is no room to even t h i n k about being roman­ tic, y ou know what I me an ? Our l i ve s are not like they are on tele v i sion. (Homema ker, interview 9) Or also: Do you think that romance ;s important to keep love going? Yeah, defini te l y.

Why? I don't know, just-i t makes you realize you're in love with each other. You know, day-to-day is not easy at all for a n y cou ple, especi ally in the long-term relation s h ip , you n eed some romance to rekindle that spark that first brought you together. ( Homemaker, interview 1 6)

Or also: Did you use to do a lot of t h ings together? Yes, we spent a lot of time togethe r.

What would you do ?

The Business of Love ( . 1 1 . 1 1 " 1 ' 1 ' 1 1 1 /1 .

til

things, go to movies maybe, a lot of times at did. spend time together, all that starts falling along, that messes up your schedule, (Home maker,

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F or , hl' working-class woman, everything that goes on usually i s un­ rom.lIltie; for the upper-middle-class woman the reverse is true, namely, cvcrythlllg that goes on usually could be romantic, In fact, the people who arc most likely to say that something mundane can be romantic are those whose daily lives a re the least burdened by chores and duties and who have, obj ectively and subjectively, the greatest sense of freedom. The

is objectively distan ced from necessity, the more one is likely to say that a m u n dan e or ordinary moment can be romantic. Because

mo re one

laundry or houseclea ning or child rearing is less oppressive for middle­ class or upper-middle-class women, they are more likely to consider these tasks as potentially romantic. Thus, a lthough the middle- and upper­ middle class are the most likely to withdraw most thoroughly from daily chores, they a re also the most likely to view daily chores as romantic. Positions in the work process explain why daily life is likely to be more romantic for upper-middle-class people than for the working class, The categories and scripts used to evaluate and construct romance are rooted in objective resources such as nature of work, equality between men and women, educational competence, available leisure time, and income, Not surprisingly, the ability to subvert, invert, or twist conventional tax­ onomies of love also varies with possession of these resources, Because the " life-world" of upper-middle-class people is more congenial to ro­ mance, they are functionally less dependent on commodified forms of romance, and their chances to experience romance, in both traditionally romantic and traditionally nonromantic settings, is thereby increased; The middle-class models of love elaborated through the mass market and mass culture have created tensions in the working-cla ss romantic ex­ perience. To put it differently, middle- and upper-middle-class people have two ways of coping with the threat of boredom.48 First, they can acquire novelty and stimulation by purchasing new leisure goods. Sec­ ond, they have at their disposal a communicative competence that can substitute for and complement the model of intensity. Once they reach the level of comfort that follows the initial level of excitation, upper­ middle-class people can avoid boredom by getting stimulation from the market, by sustaining relatively intense patterns of communication, and by i ncorporating their romantic experience within the very texture of the mundane.49 The inescapable conclusion is that the upper-middle class is

The Class of Love

better equipped to cope with the cultural contradictions between defini­ tions of love that demand continuity and longevit)' and definitions of love as an intense and pleasurable bond. They can and do switch easily from being hedonist consumers to being the communicative " managers" of their relationships. To summarize, ma rried work i ng-class respondents found romance less often than the upper-middle-class responden ts, in the realms both of consumption and of communication. This difference can be explained by the combinati on of several factors: limited surplus i ncome to invest in leisure or romantic pursuits; limited leisure time, the result both of lim i ted income and of the more tiring character of their work (men's blue-collar occupations and women's lack of assistance in housework); gender di fferences in patterns of communication; the sharp separation of the men's and women's spheres, which translates into leisure activi­ ties and spills over into romance; and, finally, the different positions of men and women in the realm of work and culture.

CONCLUSION The standard definition o f romance demands a middle-class cultural competence and lifestyle Lacking these resources , the working class marriage can be considered deprived in several ways. First, as we have seen, in contemporary culture the experience of romance affords a sec­ ular access to the experience of the sacred, and without t h is experience or some analogue of it daily l i fe becomes oppressive in its continuity, reg­ ularity, and necessity The experience of the sacred is important in and of itself, but it also introduces into daily life an organized disorder," a rhythmic alternation between " hot, " passionate times and " cold, " prag­ matic, profane ones. 50 Second, whether communal or interpersonal, hu­ man bonds are c onstituted through shared memories and the shared nar­ ratives that sustain them. I have argued that the liminal nature of romantic experience lends itself more readily to the "writing" of such bonding narratives of sha red memory. Insofar as working-class couples engage less often in romantic practices, their lives are less likely to pro­ vide the raw materia l for such narratives. Other kinds of narrative a re also at stake here . The ideal of intimacy promoted by the therapeutic worldview entails a narrative of progress: as it moves forward in time, a relationship brings to its participants an ever-increasing understanding of self and other that carries emancipa­ tory potential. This narrative provides the relationship with a structure .

-

.

"

The Business of Love of "',-"Ol n ing that not only strengthens the bond but makes differences and �()nfli�t Illore intell igible and therefore more acceptable and manageable. In sofa r as the r a peu t ic discourse and the therapeutic worldview are not part of the cu ltural capital of the working class, the members of this class, particularly the men, are less "romantically competent. " This implies that for working·class couples, the category of the "profane," the day­ to-day routine of relationships, does not have the rich texture offered by the therapeutic narrative of progress. By contrast, because of thei r education, income, and position in the work process, middle-class and upper-middle-class respondents enjoy numerous advantages. For one thing, their contradictory attitude toward the stereotyped, mass-market version of romance is actually a source of strength. Their understanding of common romantic scripts and their abi lity to enact the more " upscale" ones ( those requiring greater expen­ diture) provide the sense of security derived from the " fit" between ac­ tions and cultural standards. At the same time, their disparagement of "cliches" provides them with the psychological certainty that their ex­ periences were "special," "creative, " " unique." They therefore had the comfort of living up to culturally prescribed standards while enjoying a sense of autonomy and individualism.

The success of a romantic moment, its capacity to draw the couple out of the routines of daily life, depends largely on its degree of rituali­ zation and liminality, and in postmodern culture, as we saw in chapter 4 , ritualization is achieved with the help of commodities. Access to lux­ ury commodities, including expensive travel and vacations, enables part­ ners to renew the feeling of love more frequently and to further inten­ sify and solidify the romantic bond. The common cultural competence upper-middle-class people exercise in their romantic communication has two positive consequences . First, it provides an experience of romance alternative to that promoted by the public sphere of consumption, making romantic even those moments that do not depend on the market of leisure. Second, shared cultural com­ munication strengthens the organic bond between the couple. Finally, because the daily life of the middle and upper-middle class contains fewer burdens or financia l constraints than that of the working class, it is much easier for the former to view even the most mundane moments or situations as romantic. The better educated and better off thus have the easiest access to the commercial-ritual formula of romance but at the same time are functionally least dependent on it and can ex­ tend the scope of what they define and live as romantic.

The Class of Love We can see now that the intersection between class and romantic love is not transparent and can be understood only after a painstaking re­ construction of the subj ective meanings contained in the experience of romance. Furthermore, dating and marriage are phenomenologically dif­ ferent and reproduce the culture, values, and social relationships of late capitalism in different ways. The crux of this chapter, as well as that of the preceding two, is found in the ambiguous, contradictory properties of the therapeutic ethos. On the one hand, in providing a language of self-direction, self-knowledge, and egalitarian self-assertion, therapeutic discourse helps enable women to formulate and assert their needs and conceive of themselves as equal partners, with " rights" and "duties" formulated in the abstract, con­ tractual language of the sphere of work. This, of course, has emancipa­ tory potential for men as well as for women. On the other hand, the ther­ apeutic ethos risks commodifying relationships in two ways. The practice of self-understanding it promotes encourages people to conceive of themselves as a list of preferences and needs and to evaluate rela­ tionships in terms of the other's abilities to satisfy these preferences a n d needs. Furthermore, b y making "communication " s o indispensable to intimacy, the therapeutic view discriminates against those men and women-but most often men-who feel uncomfortable, incompetent, or otherwise uninterested in articulating their emotions. Again, however, for those in possession not only of therapeutic discourse but of other, material advantages, this contradiction brings benefits. The middle and upper-middle classes a re the most likely to use the rationality of eco­ nomic transactions in their self-conceptions and in their relationships, yet they are also the most likely to form marriages on the basis of what Anthony Giddens calls the " pure relationship, " a relationship for its own sake. In other words, they get to have their cake and eat it, too. In my conclusion, I examine what this and other paradoxes have to tell us about the contemporary romantic condition.

Conclusion A Happy Ending?

And there is a dignity in people; a solitude; even between hus­ band and wife

a

gul f; and that one must respect, thought

Clarissa, watching him open the door; for one would not part w ith it oneself, or take it, against his will, from one's husband, without losing one's independence, one's self­ respect, something, after all, priceless.

Virginia Woolf,

Mrs. Dalloway

To the still skeptical reader, the emotional oscillation described in this book might seem to have n oth i ng to do with capitalism, for the oscilla­ tion between passion and reason, between states of emotional exaltation and the routine of everyday life are universal phenomena. Thus the ul­ timate question that needs to be addressed is precisely this: what differ­ ence does it make that the languages, the goods, and the world views of the market are those used to make sense of the romantic bond ? After all, why should we care to know that the naggingly persistent contradictions of the romantic sentiment have assumed the cultural forms and lan­ guages of the market? The answer to this question will take the form of a recapitulation of the main findings of this book.

THE STORY O F L O V E The popular v iew of love, often repeated i n social psychology textbooks, is that it is "blind" at its incept ion but usually recovers its reason as the initial infatuation su b si des . Because it has focused on the shifting mean­ ings of love, this boo k sees a different, more com plic at ed love story as typical of contemporary society. The model of love as an intense and spontaneous feeling has lost its power, partly because it is now subsumed under a model of liberated sexu­ ality, partly because a slow and progressive knowledge of the other is 288

Conclusion thought to be the only reliable way to build romantic attachments. Be­ cause sexuality need not be sublimated in a spiritua l ideal of love, and be­ cause " self-realization " is perceived to depend on experimentation with a variety of partners, the absoluteness conveyed by the experience of love at first sight has faded away into the cool hedonism of leisure consump­ tion and the rationalized search for the most suitable partner. The pursuit of pleasure and the gathering of information about potential mates now constitute the initial stage of romance, codified in the practice of dating. Dating is the i nstitutionalization of romantic encounters without the goal of commitment. It can take the form of short-lived "affairs" undertaken for their own sake or of a search for the right mate through successive partners. In both cases, the initial romantic interaction frequently takes place in the anonymous and pleasure-driven sphere of leisure consumption. Dating thus contains three cultural and emotional experiences, which are often intertwined but can also assume an independent and "pure" form: ( I ) The increasing legitimacy of sexual pleasure for its own sake, for both men and women, often makes the romantic encounter a primar­ ily sexual one, the occasion for sexual experimentation, sometimes justi­ fied in terms of "self-realiza tion. " Its pure form is the " affair. " ( 2 ) Whether the romantic bond is oriented toward long-term commitment or has the fiery brevity of an affair, the sphere of consumption provides the frame­ work within which the bond is forged through the cyclical consumption of formal or liminal rituals of leisure. ( 3 ) Finally, the formation of the romantic bond can express interest-driven behavior that seeks to match one's own needs and preferences to the assets and liabilities of another person, either rationally and self-consciously or through the semicon­ scious mobilization of habitus in the mutual sharing of leisure activities, cultural tastes, and forms of talk. From my data, it is difficult to determine which, if any, of these three forms of romantic bond-the sexual, the rit­ ual-consumerist, or the rational-economistic-is the most central . Instead, dating seems to demand that a person be able to shift skillfully from one mode to another. In dating, pleasure and utility, gratuity and profit, ra­ tionality and irrationality, chance and social destiny are so closely imbri­ cated that they become confused with each other. In this respect, dating is a typically postmodern form of romantic interaction. As Mike Featherstone has suggested , the apparent disorder of post­ modern experience points to a " more deeply embedded integrative prin­ ciple, for there are rules of disorder which permit swings between order and disorder, status consciou sness and the play of fantasy and desire, emotional c ontrol and decontrol . " l The hedonism that Dan iel Bell saw

Conclusion

as stemming from an "adversary Bohemian culture" does not contradict the spirit of contemporary capitalism but, on the contrary, marks a new, more advanced discipline of the self, for it is undergirt by an intensive rationalization of the personality and the cultural sphere, integrating both into the economic logic of advanced capitalism. While dating blurs and confuses the boundaries between the rational pursuit of a compatible other and a hedonist consumption of leisure and sexual pleasure, married life is structured by a more rigid alternation be­ tween the ongoing routine of daily life and periodic rituals of romantic fusion. Contrary to popular laments that marriage is threatened by the fading of the emotional intensity of the "beginnings," my analysis sug­ gests that the everyday-monotonous, wearing, " pedestrian"-is the symbolic pole from which moments of romantic exaltation draw their meaning. Such moments are significant precisely because they are short­ lived and unsustainable in daily life. Far from marking a "dwindling" of love, the entry into the "profane" realm of daily life (usually the realm of marriage) begins a rhythmic alternation with " sacred" romantic modes of i nteraction. The stability of married life depends on sustaining this rhythm. However, as I suggested in chapter 5, this motion is not a simple to and fro between the sacred and the profane. Because our culture pre­ sents a ceaseless flow of highly stylized images and stories of the "erup­ tive" version of love, the profane is also set against the background of the sacred, so that everyday life must be continuously " justified" in terms of this romantic ideal. This task, I have argued, is performed by the middle-class therapeutic ethos, which, in reformulating the roman­ tic bond in more mundane terms like "companionship," " friendship," "compatibility," bestows something of the exaltation of romance on the everyday. Further, although the therapeutic ethos often seems to offer only palliatives to the shortcomings of daily life ( "know how to com­ promise," " accept the other as he is"), it also offers a powerful narra­ tive of emancipation, based on self-knowledge, gender equality, and open-ended communication. While the realm of everyday life is often seen as devoid of the intense ritual meanings lived in the realm of leisure, it recuperates " meaning" through a narrative of progress that makes the success of a relationship depend on self-knowledge and unconstrained communication. Like dating, love in daily life has many cultural layers. One consists in the pragmatic coordination of a couple's activities, the mundane " busi­ ness" of daily life. In an era where intimacy must increasingly reconcile

Conclusion

the conflicting needs of men and women, the threat of conflict always lurks. Intimate everyday life is now structurally threatened by conflicts, the necessary and natural outcome of women's greater equality. And with the inevitability of conflict in contemporary definitions of intimacy comes the practice of conflict resolution through communication, a now necessary component of intimacy,2 especially among middle- and upper­ middle-class couples. Such a practice not only restores the couple's smooth practical functioning but also promotes a communicative ratio­ nality, which assumes that two autonomous selves can achieve under­ standing and love through the communication of their needs and the ac­ ceptance of the legitimacy of those needs. Communicative rationality stands at the indeterminate boundary between an economistic language of needs satisfaction and an agapic intimacy, the gratuitous love given to another person simply because of who he or she is, a uniqueness ir­ reducible to a list of attri butes. Does this story have a happy ending, then? Does it represent an ad­ vance over the earlier vision of love, or h ave we lost more than we have gained ? This question raises the further question of the criteria we might use to answer it. According to much sociological and moral thought, the values and attitudes of private life a re starkly opposed to those of the realm of commodity exchange; the private sphere borrows from the economic sphere only to its own detriment. By this norm, the story I tell of love seems to augur its demise. Instead, I hope my story will lead readers to reassess the sacrosanct character of the norm itself. One argument for the present-day decay of love, asserting an oppo­ sition to consumer culture at once Marxist and elitist, claims that the love depicted in Romantic literature is more authentic beca use the lovers affirmed their passion against an oppressive social order. But if modern (or postmodern l love seems domesticated by comparison, its strivings encouraged rather than denied by the surrounding culture, this is be­ cause the social order itself has changed, acknowledging the claims to freedom, self-realization, and equality contained in the utopian vision of love. It was precisely for these val ues that romantic lovers suffered, and present-day romantic culture, hedonist and " weightless " as it sometimes seems, nevertheless represents these lovers' posthumous victory. It can­ not be denied that modern love empowers its lovers, giving them greater control over their romantic destinies.] To discount the significance of this runs the risk of glamorizing the defeat and death that premodern mar­ tyrs to love-mostly women-typically suffered and of viewing their sto­ ries of struggle and suffering with nostalgia and envy.

Conclusion

A more serious objection comes from the pessimistic Weberian view of the "disenchantment" of capitalist society, developed in Ha bermas's contention that the realm of human relationships must be kept separate from the instrumental rationality of the economy, technology, and the state. I am not in fundamental disagreement with this thinking, but I ar­ gue that the sociologist must make a more nuanced and empirical use of these categories. The goods and values of commodity exchange can ei ­ ther reinforce or undermine the romantic bond, depending on the con­ text. For example, the therapeutic ethos can strengthen the romantic bond in middle-class couples, but it can divide men and women in working­ class households. The instrumental vocabulary of needs and preferences can make persons and relationships into tradable goods, but it can also help women assert their equality. An elegant restaurant can function both as a status marker and as an element of the ritual renewal of the roman­ tic bond . My point may seem a simple one, but it is crucial for sociology. We cannot presume a priori how the sphere of commodity exchange and the private sphere will interact, or what the outcome will look like. Rather, this interaction must be systematically and empirically investi­ gated in particular contexts of class, ethnicity, and gender. There are no absolute or universal norms for evaluating the forms as­ sumed by love. The criteria I have adopted come from a particular tra­ dition, the legacy of the Enlightenment and of modernity. This tradition values self-knowledge, autonomy, equality, and tolerance of difference. The question then becomes, does modern love actually live up to these values? Does it promote equality and tolerance, or does it perpetuate in­ equities of power and frustrate the need for openness and understand­ ing? Just what kind of self-knowledge and how much of it is made avail­ able by authorized romantic discourses and practices ? How and to what extent does modern love give life meaning ? As we have seen from the interviews d ocumented in this book, the middle and upper-middle classes a re the most likely to fulfill the poten­ tial of the romantic utopia because they possess the necessary economic and cultural prerequisites; modern romantic practice is attuned to their social identities in general and their work identities in particular. Para­ doxically enough, although the affluent have an easy access to its utopian meanings, romantic love fails to provide them with a fixed sense of val­ ues and identity, something religion often provided in the past. The rea­ son for thi s is not, a s a prominent conservative thinker suggests, that contemporaries suffer from an amoral relativism.4 Rather, they are com­ mitted simultaneously to too many values, institutional and anti-insti-

Conclusion

29 3

tutional, driven by economic interest yet affirming the creative power of emotions and spontaneity. We acknowledge more openly the multiplic­ ity of our desires and the inevitability of power struggles within roman­ tic relationships. We enjoy greater freedom in choosing a partner but also encounter a much greater number of potential partners. At stake is the personal welfare, conceived as economic well-being, satisfying intimacy, and opportunity for self-realization, that is paramount to middle-class identity. This pluralism of emotions and values has made romantic feel­ ings less intelligible and more open to an anxious questioning of what it means to " be in love. " Indeed, if overwhelming passion and a quasi­ religious sentiment are not reliable signs of love, if we must fight for equality in the innermost privacy of our daily lives, then what is love on a daily basis about? Our passion is now confused by and confused with our self-interest. Marriage and love are subject to the sobering prudence of economic action and to the rational search for self-satisfaction and equality, a far cry from the amoral relativism presumed to have destroyed our relationships and our " family values." Romantic passion has been further "disenchanted" by its very tri­ umph in the mass media and consumer culture. Because of the ubiqui­ tous use of romance to sell commodities, romance in real life has become an empty form, acutely conscious of itself as code and cliche. We have become deeply aware that, in the privacy of our words and acts of love, we rehearse cultural scenarios that we did not write. The formulas of ro­ mance now compel the belief only of the culturally deprived. Greater cultural capital leads to greater cultural alienation: the educated post­ modern lover treats her romantic beliefs with the skeptical irony of a post-Marxian and post-Freudian consciousness. The therapeutic ethos makes its own contribution to this alien­ ation. As therapy, its aim has always been to "cure," and there is a long tradition viewing romantic passion as a sickness. What the ther­ apeutic ethos proposes to cure us of is anything in the psyche that es­ capes or subverts rational self-control. Growing out of the Freudian "hermeneutics of suspicion," it proposes a regime of self-knowledge that is fundamentally skeptical, testing all experience for signs of ir­ rationality and illusion. In postmodern culture, "romantic faith" is celebrated throughout the mass media even as it is deconstructed by the therapeutic ethos. The conj unction of these e1ements-emotional pluralism, consumerist rituals of romance, and the critical self-consciousness cultivated by the therapeutic ethos-generates a crisis characterized by a deep-seated

2. 9 4

Concl usion

suspicion of love, confusion between its rational and irrational expres­ sions, and difficu l ty interpreting one's feelings. For the more affluent and educated, moreover, romance has been rationalized in that consumerist " lifestyle choice" has become the basis of their relationships and social identity. This crisi s in the meaning of love epitomizes the crisis of mean­ ing that Weber identified as the hallmark of modernity. As we try to con­ trol our lives through the rational management of our relationships, ex­ periences that transcend rationalization become more elusive and our longing for them all the more urgent. The exertion of control in private life, however, may have an eman­ cipatory character. In an era of giant corporations and transnational cap­ ital, private life is one of the last arenas in which the individual can ex­ perience a measure of control and autonomy. That this autonomy is framed in the languages of the market is only one of the many ironies of capitalism that Marx him�e1f wrestled with when he confronted indus­ trial capitalism . The current disarray in our romantic attitudes is also the outcome of what Stephen Kern calls a more "authentic " consciousness o f the mea n ing of love, a higher self-knowledge, a greater ability to ex­ ercise our freedom and autonomy in the domain of love, and a greater awareness of the existential difficulty in loving another.5 I suggest that the capaci ty to live an authentic meaning of love is re­ served for those whose lives are not determined by " necessity. " The emo­ tional repression and distrust of verbal expression de m a nded of work­ ing-class men by their jobs is at odds with the middle-class ideal of intimacy and expressiveness adopted by work i ng-class women; their life conditions, limitation s in income, leisure time, and edu cati on, further hinder the working class's acce s s to the " romantic dream." By contrast, for the middle class and, more especially, the upper-middle class, the fo­ cus on self-knowledge and on expressive and interpersonal skills, as well as the recent gains in the w orkplace made by the women of this group, mitigate gender differences and help their relationships live up to the ro­ mantic standards promoted by the media. From this, three ge ner a l conclusions may be drawn: the spheres of private life and co m m odi ty exchange intersect in diffe rent ways for the m iddle class and the working class; romance is a good unequally distributed in our social structure; love provides personal freedom only to those who already have a measure of ob;ective freedom in the workplace. This book, then, has a number of implications for the warni ngs , from the right or the left, about the decline in family values and in the sense of

Conclusion

2.9 5

community. One is that the disappearance of Victorian values so self­ righteously mourned by conservative apostles of doom is caused to a great extent by the same economic forces they are otherwise eager to celebrate and unleash. One cannot promote the claims of the individual against all forms of collective solidarity in the sphere of economic exchange and yet lament the triumph of these claims in the realm of the family. Furthermore, insofar as it encourages individuals to find their great­ est emotional satisfaction in private experiences linked to rituals of con­ sumption, romantic love proba bly contributes to the breakdown of lo­ cal networks and the sense of civic responsibility lamented by communitarian critiques of liberalism.E Any progra m to " reconstruct" the social fabric must face the fact that the conjunction of love with post­ modern consumer culture is deeply ingrained in the psyches of the most educated and skilled members of society and exerts a power that will not be dispelled quickly or easily. However uncomfortable we are with this fact, it sho u ld spur us to new reflection on the role of the private sphere in the democratic ideal of citizenship, a task that has been undertaken by Robert Bellah and his associates'? Some feminist scholars have recently held that l iberalism itself is partly to blame for the declining partici pation in civic life. Stephanie Coontz, for example, argues that liberal political theory has excluded values of care, need, and dependence from political discourse, and in­ sofar as these values have been relegated to the private sphere and to women, it has discouraged women from political life.8 But as I hope to have shown, the abstract and impersonal discourse of the public sphere has been incorporated into private life, helping women achieve, howe ver imperfectly, the autonomy feminists claim they have been de­ nied as caretakers. It is true that this autonomy is problematic, as it rests on the discourse and values of consumer culture, and in its em­ phasis on rights it has dramatically failed to articulate duties.9 Never­ theless, the commodified language of indi v idualist self-realization is, at present, the only language we understand well enough to open our relationships to a project of autonomy, equality, and emotional fulfill­ ment. I do not deny that this language is an impoverished one or that we will eventually need to transcend it. But in the commodified soci­ ety in which we in fact live, women can use this language to subject re­ lationships to the forms of egalitarian negotiation and accountability legitimated in the real m of commodity exchange. While I began interrogating the meaning of love in contemporary cul­ ture under the auspices of Emile Durkheim, my conclusion belongs to

Conclusion

the in te l le c tual legacy of Max Weber. In the an a lytic style he gave to so­

ciology, Weber has poignantly con ve yed the fact that the gains of moder­ nity are also losses and that s oc i ol ogy cannot help adjudicate between conflicting values. Modernity has brought irretrievable losses in the meaning of love, most not ably the connection between love and moral virtue and the dissolution of the co m mitment and st ability of premod­ ern love, but these losses are the price we pay for greater control over our romantic lives, greater self-knowledge, and equ ali ty between the sexes. Whether or not we are w il ling to pay this price is an important yet an idle question, for we have already paid it. For the foreseeable fu­ ture , the ideals of equality and autonomy may survive in the society at large only at the price of their continuing association with the hedonist and utilitarian idioms of postmodern culture. It is my hope th at a better understanding of the losses and gains brought by the postmodern con­ d iti on of love can empower us to choose and control both our romantic and our soc i al destinies .

APPENDIX

I

A Few Words about

Methods

THE SAMPLE: DEFINITIONS AND PROCEDURE

I have used income, occupation, and educational level as the critical dimensions a long which I compare the wo rki ng and middle classes and also individuals within the middle classes. Traditionally, the working classes have been defined by their position in the process of production (i.e., they sell their labor but do not own the means of pro­ duction); by the nature of their occupation (in the p roducti o n rather than ser­ vice sector); and by a common lifestyle . Although this definition is still accurate to a great extent, it has been called part i a ll y into question because some of the traditional segments of the m iddle class also fall into the category of working class. Clerica l workers and salespersons belong to the category of working class because these occupations do not require any college attendance and have been considerably devalued. Computers h ave made their work even more routine than task-oriemed, thus even more boring and alienating. The lower fractions of the middle classes la bor in a hierarchical system similar to the strict division of labor in facto ries. I Moreover, they live in working-class neighborhoods and have lifestyles similar to those of their working cl a s s counterparts. Thus, the working classes are made up of the "traditional working class" ( that is, factory workers) and "all clerical workers a nd all sales workers with the exceptions of advertis­ ing, and insu rance agents, stock and bonds salesmen, sales representatives, and related groups whose position in the labor process and more affluent lifestyle would make their inclusion in the worki ng class somewhat ridiculous. " 2 Working·c1ass membership i s defined by a n educa tional leveI o f high school or less and a low-prestige occupation. Typical working-class occupations among my respondents included cleaning person, salesperson, secretary, electrician, se­ curity guard, babysiner, and doorma n. The ratings from these dimensions were not always consistent. For e xa mpl e, two men in my sample had not completed "

"

-

2. 9 7

Appendix

I

high school; though their incomes were low, they worked in middle-class pro­ fessions, one as a private investigator ( formerly an insurance representative) and the other as a professional boxer. The middle class is notoriously difficult to define. Once the lower fractions are taken out, three subcategories remain. The first are managers, who direct and control the productive process and are least likely to be supervised. This sub­ class does not necessarily own the means of production but directly assists those who do. The second subcategory comprises "cultural specialists," such as mathe­ maticians, scientists, social scientists, researchers, artists, journalists, university professors, and editors, and cultural intermediaries such as nurses, paramedical workers, elementary-school teachers, and people working in advertising, public relations. The third subgroup is made up of persons commonly called "profes­ sionals " : lawyers, doctors, and financial consultants. My sample of middle- and upper-middle class respondents held college and advanced degrees_ Annual income ranged from $40,000 to $ J oo,ooo. The sample incl udes professionals (doctors, lawyers, investment bankers, executives) and people whose main income derives from participation in the production of culture (actors, musicians, painters, filmmakers, movie distri butors, cameramen, editors, academics, advertising executives, high-school teachers). Here also, some interviewees occupied contradictory positions. For example, a camera­ man/filmmaker who dropped out of college and earned a low income had a very high cultural competence, manifest in his ex pertise and practice of art forms. One lawyer had average-to-low cultural competence, low income, and friends from the working classes, and did not participate in the arts .

INTERVIEWEES N

=

50.3 Number of women

=

2. 5; number of men

=

2. 5 .

male; F female; S single; MA married; D divorced; college; C + graduate education; C two years of college or less; HS high school.

Symbols: M C

=

=

=

=

=

=

-

=

=

=

In addition to income, education, and profession, [ have evaluated respondents' class position and cultural capital with variables such as parents' profession ( so­ cial origin); profession of close friends; neighborhood; and type and frequency of cultural activities.

UPPER-MIDDLE-CLASS RESPONDENTS (N

=

20)

All respondents had undergraduate degrees, and many had graduate degrees as well. Interview

I:

M. S. C + University professor; $70,000- 100,000. .

Interview 4: M. MA. C + Investment banker; abm'e $ 1 00,000. .

Interview 5 : M. S. C + . Lawyer; $ 2.0,000-4°,000.

Appendix

299

[

Interview 6: F. D. C + . Artist; $ 60,000-1 00,000.

Interview 7: F. MA. C + . Lawyer; $60,000-80,000. Interview 8 : M. S. C + . Physician; $40,000-60,000. Interview 1 2.: F. S. C + . Lawyer; $60,000-80,000. Interview 1 3 : F. MA. C + . Artist; $60,000-80,000. Interview 14: M. D. C + . Physician; $ 60,000-80,000. Interview 1 9 : F. MA. C + . University professor; above $ 1 00,000. Interview 20: M. S. C +

Corporate banker; $60,000-80,000 .

.

Interview 2 3 : F. MA. C + . Lawyer ( husband: graphic designer) ; above S I OO,OOO.

Interview 27: F. MA. C + . Homemaker (husband: economist); income $40,000-60,000. Interview 30: F. S. High school student (parents: publishers); parents' income: $80,000- 1 00,000. Interview 3 5 : F. MA. C +

.

Artist; above $ 1 00,000.

Interview 4 3 : M . D. C. Art dealer; $40,000-60,000. Interview 44: F. D. C + . Social worker; $40,000-60,000. Interview 4 5 : F. S. C + . Collagist; $ 1.0,000-40,000. Interview 49: F. S. C. Advertising designer; $40,000-60,000. Interview 5 0: M. S. C +

.

Scientist; $40,000-60,000.

CULTURAL SPECIALISTS WITH AVERAGE TO LOW INCOME

(N

=

10)

Interview 2: F. S. C. Ava n t g arde filmma ker; $ 1 0,000-2.0,000. -

Interview 3: F. D. C + . Editor; $ 3 °,000-40,000. Interview 24: M. S. C + . Ph.D. student; $ 2.0,000-4°,000. Interview 26: M. S. C. Cameraman; $2.0,000-4°,000. Interview 29: M. S. C

. Actor; $ 2.0,000-40,000.

-

Interview 3 3 : M. S. C. Music conductor; $ 1 0,000-20,000. Interview 3 4 : M. S. C. Movie distributor; $ 1 0,000-20,000. Interview 4 I : F. S. C + . Historian; $4,000-1 0,000.

Interview 47: F. D. C + . Kindergarten teacher; $ 2.0,000-4°,000. Interview 4 8 : F. S. C + Editor; $ 1.0,000-40,000. .

LOWER FRACTIONS OF THE MIDDLE CLAS S ES

Interview

2.I :

F. S. C

-

. Pol ice officer; $ 1.0,000.

(1'

=

4)

A p pen di x I

3 00

Interview 10: F. MA. C - . Preschool teacher (working-class husband); co m bi n ed income $2.0,000-40,000. Interview 2.2.: M. D. C

-

. Private investigator; $2.0,000.

Interview 42.: M. MA. C - . Sa le sperso n; h o,ooo-w,ooo. WORKING CLASS (N

=

14)

None of the respon de n ts had finished college; some had not finished high school. Interview 9: F. MA. HS. Homemaker ( hu sba n d : acco u nt a nt; wo r ki n g - c la ss parents); household i ncome $40,000. Interview I I : M. S. C

-

. Doorman; $4,000- 10,000.

Interview 1 5 : M. S. H S. Boxer; $ 10,000-2.0,000. Interview 1 6 : F. MA. HS. Secretary (husband: a ud io technician); combined income $40,000. Interview 1 8 : F. S. HS. Legal secretary (worki ng-class parents); $ 1 0,000-20,000. Interview 1 7 : F. MA. Auended secretarial and horticultural schools. Word processor and secretary (husband: carpenter). Interview 1.8: F. MA. HS. Homemaker (husband: project manager); $40,000. Interview 3 2. : M. MA. HS. Supermarket worker; $ 1 0,000-1.0,000. Interview 3 6 : M. D. HS. Electrician; ho,ooo. Interview 3 7 : F. S. HS. Security officer; $ 1 5 ,000. Interview 3 8 : F. MA. HS. Homemaker (h u s b a n d : craftsman); combined income $1.0,000. Interview 3 9 : M. MA. HS. Auto mobile mechanic; $200,000. Interview 40: M. MA. HS. J an i tor (wife: waitress); combined income $ 10,000-20,000. Interview 46: M. S. HS. Salesman; $2.0,000-40,000.

THE INTERVIEWING TECHNIQUE I used a structured, open - en ded questionnaire (the full text of the questionnaire is given a s a ppe nd i x 2). The interviews were not standardized, as I often asked questions in response to the answers given by the interviewees. Because of the highly private q u a l i ty of emotions and lo ve, ethnographic observation was not possible. As Critcher suggests, such subjects are difficult to study other than through interviews.4 I use d my own pe rso na l k n o w l ed ge of romantic practices to formulate hy­ potheses and to reflect on them. My approach to the interv iew subscribes to what Manning has called "existential fieldwork, " which i n sists on the transaction be-

Appendix I

301

tween the subject a nd object and does not hesitate to use the researcher's own k nowledge and even own circle of friends to make claims and hypotheses.5 The main purpose of my interviewing technique was to create a climate of trust and to make my respondent confident that 1 was nonjudgmental. To j udge from the number of people who said things like " it's embarrassing to say, but . . . " or " I hope n o one sees this because m y wife does not know about this," I believe I suc­ ceeded in my aim. This does not necessarily mean that respondents were always candid, but it does indicate that the interview ma na ged to overcome some of the reserve that often characterizes the interaction between interviewer and inter­ viewee. The interview elicited three different types of answers. Some answers are in­ terpretative: that is, they interpret motives, inten ti o n s, and personal qualities in the characters, events, situations, stories, and images offered as eliciting devices to respondents. Other answers tap into the "folk theories " by which respondents explain and j ustify the why's and how's of love or, as so many self-help books put it, its failures and successes. The third type of answer is autobiographical. elicited by asking respondents to recount diverse aspects of their romantic ex­ periences. But these different categories were analyzed with a single intention: to grasp the fluidity of the cultural repertoires on which respondents draw to make sense of their shifting emotions. Most of my questions were designed to make respondents choose and then justify their choices between different love stories. gifts, greeting cards, and images . Choosing among different options would, 1 hoped, force people to spell out the rationale, the tacit assumptions, and the values upon which their choices rest. While in actual social interactions people do not always perceive that their behavior is the outcome of (conscious or unconscious I choices among many possibilities, when a crisis arises or when they are called upon to j ustify themselves, actions or choices are explained by invoking the mean ings of a particu lar repertoire. The questionnaire aims at grasping the various cultural repertoires within which people understand and in­ terpret romantic behavior. Although I used an ela borate questionnaire, I did not follow it in a stan­ dardized way, preferring to pursue particular issues that emerged as more promi­ nent or characteristic of a given respondent's romantic life. For example, I put more questions about marriage to a working-class woman who had married her first boyfriend and who seemed to have marital difficulties than I did to a woman who had had many boyfriends before marriage and did not indicate marital prob­ lems. Probing was done either by repeating a key sentence said by the inter­ viewee and waiting for the respondent's reaction, by asking such questions as "What do you mean ?n or "In what way? " or "How s o ? " or by telling them " I a m not sure I understand . " I sometimes analyzed the responses t o my interviews b y fol lowing strict pro­ cedures of coding. For example, categories such as "consumption," " ritual be­ havior," "interest·driven" choice of a mate, "strategies of class dist inc tion were predefined and responses were coded accordingly. At other times, I resorted to less forma lized interpretations of my data, trying to infer recurring patterns of meaning and connecting them to existing theory. Although I am aware that my analysis can be faulted for not always using replicable and falsifiable meth"

3 0l.

Appendix

I

ods, I hope that my re s ults , the recognizable and collective pattern and their systematic links to existing theory, will persuade the reader of the validity of my findings. I used images from advertising as highly stereotyped representations of romance to examine the visual codes that make an image romantic or unromantic. F igures I, 2., 3, and 4 (see appendix 3 ) differ from one another along the fol­ lowing dimensions: Setting: outside (2., 3 ) vs. i n side ( 1 , 4); urban ( 1 , 2., 4, by inference) vs. natu­ ral ( 3 ) . Private vs. public space: Although the four pictures take place i n setting s with different degrees of privacy, they all tend to exclude the presence of people other than the lovers. Fi g ure l. is in a pu b lic space; figure 3 is in a secluded space; fig­ ure 4 is in a private space (home). Figure I is in a semipriv a te space {a restau­ rant but apparently without other customers a round}. Although figures 3 and 4 are very different, they share one important tra it: they both occur in very private and secl ud ed settings (nature for 3 , the home for 4 ) . On the other hand, figu res I and l. occur in a half-public ( restauran t) and completely pu b lic setting (the street). However, in figure I no one else is near the couple, while in figure 2. a car can be seen in the far background. Mundane vs. unusual activities: I w ante d to examine whether mundane ac­ tivities are viewed as romantic and, if so, by whom . For example, the activity de­ p icted in figure 3 (boa t ing ) is one l iberated from the con s traints of work and daily life. Figures I and 4 present activities that, although "out of the ordinary," are more integrated into daily life (eating at a restaurant or at home). Figure 4 , however, also carries connotations of "celebration," si nc e the characters, even though at home, wea r elegant party clothes. Figure 2. does not fit easily into ei­ ther side of this dichotomy because, although the couple seems to be strolling on a street, the man's kneel i ng position makes it an "extraordinary event." F igure s 5 and 6 are prim a r i ly a contrast in wealth. Figure 5 presents the im­ age of a young and glamorous couple dressed in tuxedo and pear l s ; the other is a famous portrait by Walker Evans of a poor family duri n g the Depression. NARRATIVE PROPS A narrative can be defined as a symbolic tool used to organize real or imag­ ined events into a meaningful sequence and to communicate this to others. Semi­ oticians have shown that the almost e ndle s s flow of seemi ngly heterogeneous stories circulating in the realm of popular culture can be reduced to a limited set of stable a nd p redict ab le narrative structures. I dis tin g uish between narrative frame and narrative model. A narrative model is the structure within which sto­ ries are organized, processed, understood, remembered, and retrieved; the nar­ rative frame is the "mindset" within which we make sense of and communicate such structures. For example, contemporary Americans hold an ideal-typical ( generic) narrative model of " love at first sight" that does not de p end on each particular love-at-first-sight story encountered (e.g. , the typical opening sequence of this generic narrative is the "eyes meet" sequence), and which can be alter-

Appendix I nately framed as the recognition of two souls predestined to each other (as in the Christian and neoplaton ic tradition), as a hormonal disorder, or as sexual attraction. Story I (see chapter 5 for the stories) conforms to the idealist tradition of love, the one most codified by popular culrure.6 Stories 2. and 3 present two dif­ ferent versions of the realist tradition: a " residual " version of the marriage of " reason " organized by families (story 2.), a nd an "emergent" one, depicting a professional couple whose relationship combines emotion with financial and professional concerns (story 3 ) . The television serial Thirtysomething provides many good examples of this last type of love story. None of the stories address whether and how much the protagonists actually love each other. They do, how­ ever, indicate the channels through which they meet and how long it takes them to get married. Stories 2. and 3 associate the relationships with attributes such as " feeling good," " h ealth," and "solidity. " In each story there is some obstacle that causes a delay in the final decision to get ma rried, whether it be ( I ) parental consent, ( 2. ) the shyness and awkwardness of the protagonists themselves, or ( 3 ) a promotion. To keep the outcome of the narrative from affecting respon­ dents' evaluation of the beginning and development of love, all three stories end with marriage. I randomly changed the sequence of presentation to insure that the interpre­ tations were not constrained by a specific order. I did not find any significant bias produced by the order of presentation. QUESTIONS ABOUT GIFfS Gifts have ambiguous economic properties: on the one hand they seem to evade the system of economic exchange. On the other, they are circulated within a binding system of reciprocity by which the social identity of givers and receivers is marked. It is precisely this duality I was interested in when I asked respon­ dents which gifts they consider romantic and which greeting cards they would give someone. These questions would make them, I hoped, spell out the norms by which a gift is considered as appropriately romantic: for example, an ex pensive gift is usually considered less romantic than a gift expressing the giver's creativity.

APPENDIX

2.

Questionnaire

FACESHEET Date: Place: Code #: Sex:

M

F

Age: Y Currently married ? Has been married before ?

N y

N

If yes, how long? Y Single: N Have you ever lived with somebody? How long ? Protestant Jewish Unaffiliated Religion: Catholic Neighborhood you live in: Formal education (diplomas and d iscipline ) : From which i nstitutions: Current profession: Profession before this one: Profession of your parents: Profession of the person you are married or involved with: Profession of your close friends: Please circle the category of i ncome that corresponds to your yearly income: $20,000-40,000 $ 1 0 , 0 0 0- 2 0 , 0 0 0

Appendix

1.

$ 4 0 , 000- 6 0 , 0 0 0

$ 6 0, 0 0 0- 8 0 , 00 0

$ 8 0 , 00 0 - 1 0 0 , 0 0 0

$ I oo,ooo-above D o you have a lot of spare time ? When you have some spare time, what do you like to do? Do you l i ke reading? What kind of books do you like to read? Do you have many books a t home? How many? Do you buy books?

How many a year? What is the last book you have read? Do you read self help books? -

Do you read romances?

What kind of romances? Do you read magazines? What kind? Do you go to the movies?

What kind of movies do you watch? What is the last movie you have seen? Do you watch n? How often ? What kind of programs do you like? Do you ever go to art museums and galleries ? How often? When was the last time you went? What did you see ? Are you affiliated t o a group o f any kind (religious, political, etc. )? D o you consider yourself a feminist?

Il-.:TERVIEW J. Look at the pictures and pick the one you find the most romantic [figures I, 1., 3 , 4 ; see a ppen di x 3). 1. .

Why did you choose this picture ?

3.

Why do you find t he others less romantic ?

4 . If y ou wanted to have a romantic evening with somebody, describe what this moment would be like. (Probing) Where would y o u go? What would you do? What time of the day would it be? Would there be people around ? 5.

Do you prefer to stay home or go out ?

6. C an you give me an example of an actual romantic moment you have had recently? Please describe it.

A ppendi x 2.

306

7 . In general, what kind of things do you like to do with your partner? Do you like talking? Do you go to the restaurants, movies, theater? How often ? Do you take weekend trips, vacations together? How ofte n ? 8. or

Can yo u

describe a romantic dinner?

9a. Ima gi ne you just met s ome bod y, what would this person have to do say to be unromantic to you ?

9b.

with for a

I ma gi n e the same but with somebody you would have been living long time.

1 0. In ge n era l, do you t h in k that romance is important to keep love go­ ing between two people? W hy? I I. Have you ever had a relationship without romance? How do you describe the difference between a r ela t i o nsh i p with romance an d a rel ati o nsh i p without it?

1 2.. Do you think that fo r most people romance lasts after ma r ri age? (Probing) Do you know couples for whom it has l a s ted ? How do you know that it has lasted for the m ?

1 3.

Do

you consider yourself a romantic person ?

1 4.

Do

you think that sex is important for romance ?

1 5.

Wo u l d }'OU say

1 6.

Are there any

that a porn ographic movie or p ic t u re rom a ntic ?

scenes from a movie or a book you have read that

you remember as being romantic ?

Story

I

1 7a .

What do you think of this st o ry?

1 7b .

D o y o u think

J

8.

D o you

they m ar ry for love?

think they should have waited t o get married ?

1 9 . D o you think t hey were right to get married without the b ride s pa re n ts c onse n t ? '

'

20a.

Do

20b.

Ha ve you ever fallen in love at first sight ? If yes, what ha ppen ed ?

you

believe in love at first sight?

Let's say, imagine you meet the man or woman of your dreams, would you like him or her to fa ll in love with you at first sight ? 20C.

2. 1 .

D o you know how your parents fell i n love?

2.2.. Which coup le s do you think have a better chance to succeed, those who fall in love with e ach other slowly or those who fall in love wit h ea ch other qu ic k l y ? 2. 3 . In your own life, did you fall in love with other people quickly or slowly? Ideally, would you prefer your relationship to be or to have been slow or

quick ?

Appendix

2

24a.

Is l o ve more important than family, i.e., your parents?

24b.

Is love more important than your own family, i .e., with children ?

25.

Story

Do you think that l ove is more important than work ?

2

26.

Wha t d o you think of this story?

27.

Do you think that Robert and Theresa marry for love ?

28a.

Would y o u l i k e or wo u ld love of your life in the s ame wa y ? 2 8 b.

you have liked to meet or t o have met the

Would you mind if a friend rather than fa mily set you up?

29.

How would like to meet or to have met the partner of your life?

30.

Do you th ink that if your parents had to choose someone for you,

this person would be the same person you would choose for yourself? If no, h ow would it be different?

3 I.

Would you go to a matchmaker or an agency?

3 2. W hat kind o f men/women do you think go to a matchmaker or to an agency ? 33.

How do you meet your partners most often?

Story 3 34.

What do you think o f this story?

3 5.

Do you think they marry

36.

D o you feel that money i s important for love ? I n what way ?

37.

Do you think that money can make love better and easier ?

3 8a .

for love ?

Would you marry somebody

w ho

was much poorer than y ou ?

What d o )'OU thin k are the c onseq uence s for relationships, if any, of not having enough money ? 3 8b.

3 8c . 39.

What are the consequences, if any, of ha ving a lot

of money?

Would you marry somebody who was m uch less educated

than you?

40.

Have you ever had a relationship with someone who was much less

educated than you? How did it work out? Do you think that rich and poor people e x perience

41. same w a y ? 42.

I n general, d o you think that people make some kind o f calculation

when they choose a partner?

Comparing the Three Stories 43.

love in the

Which one of t he three stories do you like best ?

Appendix

308

2.

44. Which on e of the men/women of th e three stories d o you find t he most in te res t ing or ap p ea l i n g to you? Which one would you have liked to be?

be

45·

Which o ne do you find the most roman tic?

46.

What d i ffe ren ce s do you see between these stories?

47.

Do you think that e ach story p re sents the same kind o f love?

48.

What i s the d ifference between them?

4 9.

What story pre se n ts t h e most pa ssionate love?

5 0.

What story is the most l ikely to last?

5 1.

Is th e re

a

d iffere nc e between love and pa ss io n?

5 2..

]s

th ere

a

di ffere nce between love and companionship?

5 3.

]s

the re a difference between love and friendshi p ?

54.

Which story, i f any, is the closest to yo u r ideal o f love? Why?

5 5.

Would you change anything in

5 6.

Which o n e is r h e least a p peal i ng to you ? Why?

5 7.

To which one were

5 8.

Which one o f these stories i s the closest to movies or novels ?

it?

most of your re l ationsh ips the c lo se st?

5 9. ]n which one of the three marriages is it most likely that there will problems ? 60.

What k ind of

problems would it be ?

Difficulties Encountered in R elationships

6 1 . According to you, what are the problems that most counter in their relationsh i ps ? 6 2. .

people en­

What are the pro b lem s that you person a l ly have encountered in you deal with them?

your re l a t i on ship s ? How did

63.

D o you usually fight i n your relationship( s ) ? About what,

u s u a l ly ?

64.

Can you d escribe

for me a fight scene you have had in your

relationships ?

65.

What would m a ke you end a rc:l a tions h i p with someone?

66. Can y o u remember one o r several relationships you have actual ly ende d ? Can you tell me why you ended them? What was bad about it?

67.

How

do you know the difference between a good and a ba d

relationship?

6 8.

Do

you think that doing psychotherapy, that is, going to see

chologist regul ar ly, may help one in his or her rel a tion s h i p s? Why?

69. useful ?

Have

you ever s ou ght profe ss i on al help? Did you find it

a

psy­

Appendix 2

70. Do you talk with your friends about your relationshi ps/affairs? Can you des c ri be a t yp ic a l conversation with one of your friends about it? How do you talk about it? 71. Do you talk with your own partner a bout your relationship? Do you find it useful? Important?

72.

Do you think of your emotions a lot?

Do you show easily your feelings ? Do yo u hug, kiss, say sweet 73. words easily ? 74.

In general, would you say that romantic rela tionships are easy

or di ffi cult? 75a.

Your own relationships, have they been easy o r difficult?

75b.

Wo u ld you say that you have had a love story that corresponded to

your expectations of what Jove should be ?

Ideal Mate 7 6. 77 .

What attracts you in somebody?

W h a t repels you in so � body? Try tc imagine someone whom you would be ashamed to be boyfriend or girlfriend with. What would this person be l i ke ? 7 8 . W h a t is the most important quality you would require from your parmer? 79 .

Co ul d you describe briefly the ideal mate?

80.

Wo u ld you require the same qualities fr om

a

lover and from a

wifelhusba n d ?

8 1 . Have you ever m e t someone very close t o you r ideal mate? What happened with this pe rso n ? Autobiography 82. W h a t were the most memorable love affairs you have had i n your life, if any? How did you first meet? What did you like about this person ? 83.

C a n you describe a moment in this relationship that

84.

( I f several stories ) what were the d i fferences between these di ffere n t

was ve ry spe­

cial for yo u ?

but important stories y o u have just told m e ? 85.

How did you know that you were i n love ? Can you describe that

feeling?

86.

If you wanted to show or say your love, what

w

ou l d you do or say ?

Pictureslcards 87· look at these two pictures [figure 5 and and the Walker Evans ph oto of a Depression -era family). What do they evoke to you?

Appendix 2.

3 10

88.

Which one i s the most romantic ?

89.

In which one is there the strongest love?

Gifts 90.

Look at these three cards ( I , 2, 3 ). If you wanted to give one card to your partner, which one would you give ? 91.

Which one would yo u like to be given ?

9 2. Is it i m portan t for you to b uy presents for the person you are in lov e with ?

9 3 . What k ind of p re sents d o you usually buy? 9 "'· Can you remember a present that you thought was very romantic ? 9 5 · Would you rather be given a rose with a poe m or an expensive object ? 96. Would you rat h er be given somet h i ng for the h ouse or a piece of do th ing? 97.

D o you u s ua l ly celebrate Valentine's Day?

98. Do you cele brate any p a rticula r day related to the h i s tory you have or h ad with your pa rtne r?

99.

Look at [ figu res 7 , 8, 9 1 . 1 Wh a t do they evoke to you ?

1 00 .

Which one expresses love t o you?

101.

Which one expresses more romance?

102. Do you know c o up l es who are very good couples? How do y ou see or know t hat they are very good couples ? 1 0 3 . In gene ra l , how do you recogn ize among your friends or acquain­ tances good from bad cou ples ? 10",.

Among these th ree pictures, which cou ple would you rather be?

Sources of Love 1 0 5 . Where do you think th a t your ideas of love come fro m ? Movies? Fa m i ly ? Friends? Novel s ? 106. Do you think tha t your ideas of love have changed since you first started dating? How so ? 107. In general, how would you say t h at media po rtra y love? Accu­ rately ? F a lsely? Idealized or realistic? 108. What if any, are the love stories you h a ve heard or read that you remember best ? ,

AFTER THE INTERVIEW

Did you feel I c ov ered everything that was i mportant to you, or a re they thi ngs that you would have liked to talk about more ?

Appendix 2

3II

Before this interview, have you thought about most of the issues we talked about? Did you find it difficult to answer my questions ?

APPEN DIX

3

Images of Romance

Figure

312

I

Figu re

2.

Appendix

Figure

3

3

Appendix 3

Figu re 4

3Ij

Appendix

Figure 5

3

Notes

INTRODUCTION 1. Abercrombie, Hill, and Turner 1 98 6 , 87. A lthough ca pitalist economic or­ ganization has been e vol v ing since the sixteenth century, it first began to realize its full potential with the Industrial Revolution, fr om the early 1 8 00s onwa rd. 1. Bell 1 976, 1 4 . } . Shoner 1 977, 1 3 . 4· Stone 1 977. 5 . P sychoanalysi s has largely contributed to the "scientific" just i fication for such views by suggesting that emotions are the outc ome of universal psycho­ logical me chanisms. Although psychoanalysis has given pa r amoun t importance to ir rational unconscious emotions, it has ope rat ed on and reinforced the same opposition between the doma i n of collective norms (the superego) and that of emotions ( located in the id). 6. R ecentl y, there seems to be a return of the pendulum as various strands of the social sciences revert (0 a universa list view of romantic love. Psychobiolo­ gists, most notably, view romanti c love as a universal emotion, transce nding bar­ riers of nationali ty, class, and ethnicity, by identi fy in g the biochemical con ­ stituents of what the psychologist Dorothy Ten nov ( 1 9 79) calls " l i merance , " a state of intense physical exc ite ment induced by attraction to another. 7· Bourdieu 1 979 a, 596-97. 8. Contrary to Weber's claim that "purely affectual behavior . . . stands on the borderline of what can be considered ' me ani n gfully' oriented" ( 1 9 7 8 , I : 1 5 ) , I view emotion a s a socially meaningful communication, which depends o n col­ lective cultural categories and scenarios. For exampl e , al though anger has physi ological components (quicker heartbeat, sweaty palms, higher blood pressure) , the causes for anger and the mechanisms to e x pre ss and/or conta in i t vary greatly. An angry person can invoke different cultural scenarios such as " reta liate [0 ­

3 18

Notes to Pages 3-8

defend one's honor," " forgive others as Jesus Ch rist forgives you," "express anger because it is healthier for the psyche," etc. 9 . Schachter and Singer 1 962.. 1 0 . Dutton and Aron ( 1 974) have documented this hypothesis empirically. By exposing male subj ects to the sight of a frightening high bridge, and shortly afterward to a pretty woman, they were able to show that those exposed to the scary sight were more likely to ask the woman on a date, indicating that the fear­ induced arousal was labeled and interpreted as sexual attraction. 1 1 . Two features identify a cultural frame: ( I ) It is characterized by a set of semantically coherent propositions which people are only implicitly aware of but which they can articulate when asked to. For example, the cultural frame of "love at first sight" generates a series of propositions such as " love is sud­ den," " love is uncontrollable," " love is i rrational . " ( 2. ) Different frames may be used by the same person to interpret a single event, although usually not at the same time or in the same situation. For example, the " love at first sight" frame i s incompatible with the frame of " love as developed from friendship," although one may use them alternatively to make sense of different aspects of the romantic sentiment. 1 2.. Hochschild 1 9 8 3 . 1 3 · Geertz 1 9 7 3 , 89. 14. As Robertson ( 1 9 8 8, 5 ) aptly puts it, "there is something self-defeating in wanting to prove that culture is a more powerful explanatory variable in the duet between material and cultural structures ." 1 5 . Collins 1 9 7 5 . 1 6 . Alexander 19 89, 1 7 8 1 7 . See i n pa rticular Alexander 1 9 8 8c . 1 8 . Marcuse 1 9 6 3 . 1 9 . See Ann Swidler's chapter on love i n Bellah et al. 1 9 8 5 . 10. Alexander 1 9 89. l I . The core proposition of this book is in l ine, then, with the late Durkheim's attempts to found a rel igious sociology of the secular world (Alexan­ der 1 9 8 8 b ) , that is, to identify those meanings that in the secular world are at once socia lly binding and sacred. 1 2. . See Goode 1 9 6 8. 1 3 . To take several examples, Tristan and Isolde's story, which according to French historian Denis de Rougemont ( 1 9 8 3 ) is the paradigmatic Western myth of love, boils down to the lovers' betrayal of the political and national order em­ bodied in the person of King Mark. Heloise, the brilliant pupil and lover of the renowned twelfth-century scholar Abelard, has remained illustrious because she affirmed passionate and sensual love against the prohibitions entailed by vows of celibacy. Romeo and Juliet gained fame not so much because of the intensity of their love, as because they braved their family disapproval. thus affirming the su­ premacy and righteousness of an individual's passion against the abusive en­ dogamic rules of the group. Contrast these with Virgil's Aeneas, who abandoned Dido to found Rome. 1. 4 . Levi·Strauss 1 949.

Notes to Pages 8-1 2.

3 19

2. 5 . Goode 1 9 6 8 . 7 5 3 . 2.6. While i n the twentieth century the motif o f the lovers struggling alone against the social order was considerably played down by commercial enter­ tainment, such an idea found a powerful echo in Freud's scientific allegories. Like many other moralists, Freud held that, while the restraint of erotic bonds posed a problem for the individual's autonomy, release from such bonds was a prob­ lem for the social order. This view was shared by one of Freud's most illustrious and least Victorian contemporaries, Bertrand Russell, who held that "love is an anarchic force which, if it is left free, will not remain within any bounds set by law or custom" ( 1 92.9, 87). 2.7· Lann 1 9 82.; MacFarlane 1987. 2.8. Zeldin 1973. 29. Zeldin 1 9 80, 33 5; my translation. 30. Turner 1 9 67. The proposition that love is a symbolic exploration of the " liminal" overlaps the central tenet of sociologist Francesco Alberoni's analysis of Falling in Love ( 1 98 3 ), in which he argues that romantic love has the phe­ nomenological properties of revolutionary collective movements, albeit a col­ lective movement " for two. " For Alberoni, the life of the group as well as the life of individuals is punctuated by sudden and intense moments of transforma­ tion, during which the quality of experience is, in his word, "transfigured . " It is during these moments that a strong and binding " we" emerges, whether at the collective or the individual level. To put it differently, love creates a social soli­ darity that at once binds the couple and isolates it from the surrounding envi­ ronment. Extending Alberoni's proposition, I submit that this double movement of union and separation, of affirmation and transgression, contained in roman­ tic love has the properties of liminal rituals, during which the rules of normal conduct a re suspended. hierarchies are inversed, and energies otherwise con­ trolled are released and consumed. 3 I . In this book, the "market" has three different meanings: it is the abstract sphere of commodity exchange. the organization of social relationships consti­ tutive of the s phere of production, and the rea lm where consumption takes place. 3 2.. See Bell 1 976. 3 3 . Details about media samples are provided in each relevant chapter. The reader wanting to know more a bout methods of data collection and analysis should consu lt the appendixes. 34. Most scholars locate the shift toward a postmodern culture in the pe­ riod following World War II (Bell 1 9 7 3 , 1 9 76; Jameson 1 9 9 1 ; Baudrillard 1 970, 1 9 7 2.; Kellner 1 9 89; Lyotard 1 9 8 4 ) . 3 5 · See J ameson 1 9 84. 36. Following the position of Marxist scholars such as Jameson, I view post­ modernism as the "cultural logic of late capitalism" and not as a radical trans­ gression of forformer modes of cultural domination. But because the model of straightforward correspondence between culture and economy is notoriously problematic, the relationship between "techno- you choose the hero and heroine's name and get to insert a personal dedication. For $60, there is the ability to make additional choices regarding the couple's hair and eyes color, hobbies, special songs, etc. For $2.00, you get all the a bove plus, after filling out a questionnaire longer than the Harvard entrance application, a custom-tailored epiloguen (Streitfeld 1 99 1 , 5 ). 1 6 . See Bernstein 1 97 1 ; Kohn J 977. 1 7 . See Kohn 1 977. 18. See Lamont and Lareau 1 9 8 8; Lamont 1 992.; Halle 1 992.; Hall 1 99 2 . 1 9 . Although people with higher incomes use more expensive commodities in their romantic practices, it is important to remember that there is no consis­ tent relationship between a high income and the cost of the romantic commod­ ity. In other words upper-middle-class people who make over $ 1 00,000 do not necessarily go only to very " fancy" and expensive restaurants. 20. This finding was a surprise to me and actually contradicted an assump­ tion I had made prior to the analysis, that because of their orientation toward " therapeutic d iscourse" upper-middle-class people would hold person-centered rather than commodities-centered definitions of romance. I also assumed that working-class people, being "deprived " of a regular practice of expensive ro­ mance, would define or recall such instances as the most romantic. While my ex­ pectations about the use of therapeutic discourse by middle-class people proved accurate, the remaining expectations did not. 2 1 . Featherstone 1 98 3 , 8. Bourdieu ( 1 97 3 ) also observed the capacity of people with a high cultural competence to transform mass cultural objects (e.g., Hollywood films) into objects of art (see, for example, the relationship between the French New Wave and the Film Noir). However, in the case referred to by Bourdieu, people with high cultura l capital are aware of

Notes to Pages 266-8 4

343

the mass o r commercial character o f the cultural objects and modify i t as such. Here, on the other hand, the anti-i nstitutional ethos of the upper middle class is predicated on a denial of the cliched character of their choices of consumption. 22. Bourdieu 1 9 7 9 . 23· Scitovsky 1 976; see chapter 5 above. 24· Levison 1 9 74, 1 06. 25. Rubin 1 992.· 2 6 . Collins and Coltrane 1 99 1 , 2.04 . 1. 7. However, references to money problems did not occur within the more prosperous segments of the working classes, either. 28. This finding disconfirms the potent myth that busy upper-middle-class peo· pie experience romance less often than their working or middle-class counterparts because work has invaded their lives. As clarified in the next section, this is far from being the case. 2.9. Studies by Hochschild ( [ 98 9 ), Kelly ( 1 9 8 3 ) , and Harris ( 1 987) have largely demonstrated that working-class women enjoy much less leisure at home than their husbands and than their middle-class counterparts. 30. Collins [ 9 9 2 . 3 I . Halle 1 9 8 4 , 4 2. · 3 2. . According to an a rticle offering tips on marriage in the upscale women's magazine Redbook, " 'More relations are ultimately destroyed than enhanced over time,' says David Olson, Ph.D., of the University of Minnesota. 'You have to work at counteracting that by keeping your marriage a priority and investing time and energy in it like you wou ld a job' " ( Frank, C, "What's Your Marriage Style ? " Redbook, May 1 994, 9 3 ) . 3 3 . This finding echoes other studies comparing the working- and upper­ middle-classes. In her study of working-class marriage, Lillian Rubin cites a particularly relevant example of a working-class woman who said: .. I am not sure what I want. I keep talking to him about communication, and he says, 'Okay, so we're ta lking; now what do you want?' And I don't know what to say then but I know it's not what I mean" (Rubin 1 976, 1 20 ) . 3 4 . Caplow 1 98 2. 3 5 . Rubin 1 9 7 6 , 1 1 6. 3 6 . See Willis [ 9 80. 37. See Rubin [ 976. 38. See K omarovsky 1 987; Rubin 1 9 7 6 . 3 9 . See Willis 1 977; Bourdieu 19 79a. 40. See Collins 1 9 9 2 . 4 I . Ibid., 2 .2.8 . 4 2 . Bryan and Alsikafi 1 9 7 5 . 4 3 . See Ra inwater 1965 . 4 4 . Rubin 1 97 6 , [ 2. I . 4 5 . See Ehrenreich 1 9 90. 46. See Rubin 1 992.. 47. Bourdieu 1 979· 48. See Scitovsky 1 9 7 6 ; also chapter 5 above .

344 49. Th i s may explain the find in g of the s oc iol o gy of mar r i a ge that upper­ contrary to popular m yth ology, are much more stable than working-class ma r r i e d couples ( Co llins a nd Co lt ra n e [ 99 [ l . 50. See Ze rubav e l 1 9 8 I , from whom I take the phrase " organized disorder."

middle-class couples ,

CO�CLUSION I.

Featherstone

1.

I

1 99 1b. did not have the benefit of Ul rich and Elisabeth-Gernsheim Beck's ins i ght fu l analyses on the Normal Chaos of Love when I was writing this book. 3. See Kern 1 9 94 . 4 . Himmelfarb 1 99 5 · 5 . Kern 1994. 6 . S a nde l 1 9 84. 7 . Bellah 1 9 8 5 . 8 . Coontz 1 99 1. 9 . See El shta in 1 9 9 5 .

APPENDIX

1

I.

See Mills

1.

Wright

1 9 5 1 ; Braverman 1 974. 1 9 7 8 , 39. 3. I n te rv i ew 1 5 was not u sed because the intervi ewee was discovered to be not of Amer ica n origin. Inter v iew 3 1 was inaudible bec ause of technical prob­ lems.

4. Critcher 1 9 80. 5. Manning, 1 987 6. The narrative structure of the idealist tradition is characterized by the sud­ de n nes s of i ts onset, the st r ugg le of love against social or moral obstacles, the re­ lentless a ffi rmation of the lovers' intense feel i ngs, the superiority of love over sex, and t h e final ( mora l) victory of love through death or m a rri age . It has per­ vaded elite as well as popu l a r c u ltu re .

APPENDIX

2

1 . F i gure s 6-9 ( not reproduced ) are black-and-white p h ot og r aph s . In figure a Wa l ker Evans photo, father, mother, grandmother, and children sit star i ng at the camera in a room of utter poverty. They a re barely clothed, and the photo conveys a state of naked m isery and h a r d work. Figure 7, Robert Do is n e a u 's fa­ mous " Le Raiser de I'hotel de ville," shows a yo u n g woman and a young man, in p ub l ic , in what seems to be a pa ss io nate and spontaneous kiss. Figure 8 s h ows a m i d d l e - a ge d co u p le sitting in a coffee ho use in ph ys i ca l proximity to each other, alone, in a p ri v at e a tm os ph ere , even though the setting is pu b l i c. Figure 9 shows an elderly co u pl e without p hy si ca l contact.

6,

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Index

Abelard and Helo ise , myth of, 109, p 8-I9n.23 Adorno, Theodor, 8 1 , 204 advanced ( late) c api t a l ism . See ca pit a li s m adventures: labeling of, 201; narratil'e structure of, 1 70, 1 7 1 , 1 8 1 adve rti s in g, 96-97; aesthetic o f u to p ia in, 8 1, 9 1 , 92--9 5 ; commodification of ro­ m ance in , 3 3 -39, 8 1-8 3, 88; develop­ ment of national system of, 17, 3 3-34; i m ages of marriage in, 46, 8 5-90; p rod uct categories associated with ro­ mance in, 83-8 5 ; ro l e i n sh a p ing con· tent of imagi n a tion , 1 0 1-2, 1 06, I IC>-I I; roma nti c idiom of na tu re in, 9 1 , 1 0 5 ; t hemes of susta ini n g romance in, 39-4 1 advice literature, 5 5 , 69, 70-7 1 Aeneas and Dido, myth of, 3 I 8- 1 9n. 2 3 affairs, narrative structure of, 1 7 3-] 5 , 1 8 1 , 289 affluence, 1, 9 5 - 1 0 1 , 1 2 1 , 1 3 1- 3 7 , l S I . See a/so wealth aga pe, 2 4 5 Alberoni, Francesco, 3 I 9n.30 A lexa nder, Jeffrey, 1 3 5 , 1 4 5 A ls i kafi , M . , 280 American Magazine, 3 2 I-12n . 1 5 American Tragedy, An (Dreiser), 3 26n. 5 8 , 34 m.8 amora l rela ti vi s m , 193 An genot , M a rc, 10 ] anger, 4, 3 1 7-] 8n.8 anthropology, of e moti ons , 3

a nticons umerist ethos , 1 5 1-5 6 anti-institutional sel f, 93, 1 4 3 , 1 5 I, 1 9 3 anti mod ern i s m, 3 6-3 7, 3 9 , 61, 93--94, 1 44 anti-utopianism, 10 I Awn, A. P., 1 4 I a rousal (physiological ) : and love, 3, 4; and mem ory, 1 4 1 ; and plea su re , 1 7 2 A rt of Dating, 69 Art of Loving, The ( Fromm ), 7, 3 3 6n. 1 5 Atlantic Monthly, 83 attac b ment , 3 40n.44 a ttracti o n, 4, 3 4on·44 Austen, Jane, 1 1 3 autobiography, narrative structures o f, 1 5 5-56, 1 66--7 0, 167 automobiles: effect on dating ha bi t s, 5 6-5 9 , 71, 7 } ; s o ngs about, 5 7, 5 8-59, 6 8-69

Baber, R. E., 3 3 1n.3 Bac hen , c., 1 1 5 Ba iley, Beth, 1.5-16, 6 1 , 74 Banky, Vil m a, 3 3 Bara, Theda, 44 Ba rthe s , Ro la n d, 88, 21 I Bataille, Georges, 1 3 6, 1 4 3 , 1 44, 1 1 1 Baudrillard, Jean, 1 0 1 , 1 07, 1 80, 3 3 1n·56 Beauvoir, Simone de, 3 3 on . 8 Becker, Gary, 1 1 5 , 1 3 9 Bell, Da n i el , 1 1 , 77, 1 7 5 , 1 87, 1 8 9 Bellah, Robe rt , 1 9 8 , 1.9 5 Berlin, I rv i ng, 5 7

Index

366

Birken, Lawrence, 8 6 blindness, o f love, � 8 8 Bloch, Ernsr, 9 1 , 1 00 Blumer, H er be rt, 44-4 5 Boheme, La ( Puc c ini ) , 3 34n.40 Bohemianism, 62., �90 Bohanski, Luc, 14 5 Bo r dwell, D., 3 2.

boundaries, 1 1 5-2.0; ed ucationa l and cul­ rural, 2.18-�9, 2. 30-3 1, 2. 3 3- 34, 13 8 , � 3 9 ; moral and personal i ty, �2.7- 3 0, �4 2.; between rea l i ty and fiction, 1 5- 1 6 , 50, [ 5 3-84; socioeconomic,

2.2.0-2.7 Bourdieu, Pierre, 7 1 , 78, 98, 1 3 1 , 1 4 8 , 1 8 2., 2. 1 4-1 5 , �2.0, 1 � 3 , � � 4 , 2. 30, 2. 3 � , �3 4, 2. } 8 , 2.3 9 , 2. 4 0 , � 4 �, �4 5 -4 6, 2.4 8 , 2. 5 1 , 2. 5 3 , 2. 5 8 , 2. 6 1 , 3 2.0n· 50, 3 4 2.-4 3 n . 2. [ bo u rgeois romance, � � Braden , D. R . , 5 5 Bruner, Jerome, 1 70 Bryan, H., �80 Burch, Robert, 2.I I bureaucracy (bureaucratic elite ), 1 2 Burke, Edmund, 94 Burke, Kennerh, 1 8 cal ling, social, 5 4 -5 5 , 66, 70, 2. 5 I

Candan, Fr ance sc a, 1 04, 2.05 candid consumprion, 37 Capella nus, An dreas , 134 capitalism, 1-2.; characteristics of lat e, 1 2.-[ 3 ; class d iv i s i ons in, �6; Marxist c ri tique of, 7; pe rso n ality structures of, 1 8 8-89; romantic love in, I , 7, 2. 5 ; self-contradictory culture o f, I I ; ca p i talist realism, 9 [ Ca p l ow, Theodore, 2.76 Cartland, Barbara, [ 79

Ca ughey, J ames, 3 2.4n.62. celebrities, commodification of, 3 2.-3 3 , 3 8 , 43 Chandler, Alfred, 2.6 Charlotte Temple ( Ro wson ) , 30 chiv alry, 3 2., 1 04 Church, Frederic, 3 2. 8n.2.6 class divisions, 1-2.; in cap itali sm , 16; in dating, 70-74, 2.09-10, 2. 3 4 ; in inter­ viewees, 1 9-1 1 ; in leisure pursuits, 5 4-5 5 ; in marriage, 7, 1 97 , 2. [ 0; in movies, 62.-6 5 ; in post modern roman­ tic love, 14, 1 6, 16, 96-97, 2. 1 9-10, 2.47-87, 2.9 4 c l ass l oyalti es, transgression of, 8 . See also social mob i lity Colbert, Claudette, 3 3 , 3 8

CollinS, Ran da l l, 6, [ 8 9 , 169, � 7 3 , 2.7 9 Coltrane, S., �69 comfort, drive to, 1 7 1 , �66 commodities, and roman tic love, [ I , 1 3 . 16, �8. 3 3-39, 5 4 , 6 5-66, [ 4 5-S [ common-sense kno wl edge , 1 6 1-6 2. communication, in ro mantic love, 1 3 4-40, �6 8, 17 5-7 7 , 2.7 9-8 1 , 2. 8 7 Communist Manifesto (Ma r x and En­ gels), 7

communitas, 1 4 3

companionate marriage, 46, 5 2., 5 3 , �90, 3 2. 5 n· 4 compatibility, � 1 5- 1 6 , 2. 1 7- 1 8 Complete Guide to Dating, 69, 7 1 Coney Island amusement park, 6 1 consumer capitali s m, 4 9 , 3 2.4-2. 5n- l con s u m pt i on, 1 -2.; and dating, [4, 56, 66-76; as de m ocratic, 7 �-7 3 ; de velop­ ment of, � 6-2.7; levels of, 3 7 - 3 9 ; and postmodern romantic sensibility, 1 2. Coontz, Ste ph a n ie , 2.9 5 Cosmopolitan, 1 99, 3 2 I -un. 1 5 , 3 � } n·40' 3 3 5-} 6n. 8 couples: advenising images of, 34-H , 37, 39-40, 8 3-84, 8 8-90, 1 0 2.- [ 0; au­ tonomy of, 2.7 ; relative affluence of, 100; romantic isolation of, 5 5 , 5 6 , 65-66, 87, 9 5 , 1 04-5 0 l l s- r 6, 1 40, 1 8 1 , 3 1 9n . 1o courtly love, 104, 2. [ 3 , 2.47, 3 un . 1 8 courtship: changing st y les of, 46-'\ 7 , 5 5 ; disappea ranc e of, [ 4, 5 6; and fun, 37; rituals of, r [ }; role of commodities in, 4�; romance as foc us of, 4 1 ; and sexu­ alilY. 4° Couvares, Francis, 59 Cross, Gaty, 9 1 Cukor, George, 3 2.4 n. 54 cultural capital, 2. 1 , 7 1 , 78, 1 3 1 , 2. 1 3 , 2.28-3 2., 2. 3 8, 139, 2.4 8, 2.6 1 , 3 �on . 5 0,

3 3 on. I 4; critici s m of, 2. 6 2. cultural competence, 2.4 8 , � 79. 2 8 [ , 2. 8 6 cultural depri vation, 2.66 cultural frames, 3-4, 3 1 8 n. I I culture, 3 -4; constraining power of, 3 �on.4 5; definition of, 5-6; hetero­ geneity of, I ?; source of meanings in, 6, 1 8- 1 9 , �94; structuralist theory of, 88 culture i nd u st ry, r 3, 1 4 , 34, 1 2.1 -2. 2. culture of critical discours e, 3 4 2.n . 1 3 daily life. See everyd ay life danci n g, and da ting, 6 1 Darnton, Robert, 3 4

Index

dating, 1 5 , 54-66, 3 17n.6'1; c las s divi­ sions in, 70-74, 2.09-1 0 , lH; and con· sumption, 14, 5 6 , 66-76; stages of love framed as, 4, 17, 2.89 DeMil l e , Cecil S., 3 2. diamond rings, symbolism of, 3 2. 3 n . 5 3 DiMaggio, Paul, 3 4 rn.6 dining out. See restaurants Dionysian aesthetic. See hedonism direct consumption, 1 2. 2.-2.3 discretionary income, spending of, 50-5 I Distinction (Sourdieu), 1 1 4, 2. 5 1 d ivo rce : and capitalism, 2. 5 ; o f compan ionate marriages, 3 1 5 n.4; and fragility of marriage, 3 3 , 4 1 , 49- 50, 1 89; and spending of fa mily income, 5 I Doisneau, Robert: photograph by, 87, 1 01, 3 3 on .7, 3 44 n . 1 (appendix 1) Don't Change Your Husband (movie), 3 2.2.n. 3 5 Do ugl a s , M . , 1 4 5 Dreiser, Theodor, 3 2.6n. 5 8 , 3 4 l n.8 drive-in culrure, 5 9 drive t o comfon, 1 7 1 , 2.66 d rive to exci ta tion, 1 7 1 , 1 7 3 Du l les , Rhea, 3 I D u rk he i m , Emi l e, 8, 10, 1 1 3 , l I 8, 1 4 5 . 1 4 5 , 195 Durrell, Lawrence. 108, 1 3 8 Dunon, D. G . , 1 4 1 fco, Umberto, 1 79 Ellis, Alben, 3 0 Elster, J . , 1 50 emotional pluralism, 193, 193-94 emotions, 3-4; d istr ust of, 1 60; Platonic view of, 3 3 3 n . 10; of romance, 1 [ 7-2.0; and the sacred, 1 1 8; un ivers a l psycho­ logical mechanisms of, 3 1 7nn. 5, 6. See also sentiments "emotion work," 4 en d ogamy, 8-9 Engels, Friedrich, 6-7, 2.4 5 , H I n . l Evans, Walker: photograph by, 1 0 1, 1 2.0, 344n. 1 (appendix 1) everyday li fe, and roma nce, [ 6 [ -6 } , 1 8 1 , 1 8 7, 2.68-8 5 , 2.90-9 1 exchange relationships, capitalistic, 1, 7 excitatio n, drive to, 1 7 1 , 1 7 3 expe nditu res , i n r omant ic love (romance), 1 } 6, 1 4 3 , 1 4 4, 1 7 5 Fairbanks, Douglas, 3 3 fairy tales, 9 Falling in LOlle (Alberoni), } [ 9n . 3 0 fa mily, 7, 2. s , 7 5 -7 6, 1 97, 1 0 5 Fass, P. , 2. 7

fear, } , 1 4 1 Featherstone, M icha e l, 1 44 . 1 5 6, 1 7 1 -72., 1 6 5 , 2.89 feminist theory, L O , 2. 9 5 films. See movies Finkelstein, Joanne , I 2.9 fire, meta phors of, 1 9 2. Fiske, J., 144 Fin·Gerald, C. J., 58 Flandrin, Jean-Louis, 2. 1 3 , 3 4 l n . 2. Flaubert, Gustave, 1 5 4 food. See restaurants Ford, Henry, 5 6 Forum ma gaz ine, 5 0, 3 2. 1-2.2.n. 1 5 Foucault, Michel, 104-5 Frankfurt School, 7, 1.0 5 , 2.4 5 Freud, Sigmund , 2.00, 3 1 9n.16 friendship: in com panionate ma rri age! relationships, 4 6 , p ., 5 3 , 162., 1.90, 3 15 n.4; vs. rom a nti c love, 1 1 7 Fromm, Erich, 7 , 2.07, 3 3 6n. 1 5 fun, 18, 3 6- 3 7 , H Gartman, David, 2. 5 1 " Ga so l i ne Gyp s ies " ( song), 58-59 Geertz, C l i fford , 5 , 6, 6 2. gender equality, 8 5-86, 1 7 5 , 1 84 gender loyalties, 8 gender politics, 74 gender spheres, 15 , 2. 8 , 1.9, 3 0, 3 5 , 2. 8 5 Giddens, A n thony, 106, 187 gift-giving, 83, [ 1 6 , 2.42.-4 5 , 1 5 4- P , 3 13 n· 5 3 glamour, 3 9 Goffman, Erving, 3 5, 8 6 , } 19n.3 Goleman, Da n iel , 1 9 5 Goode, William, 8 Good Housekeeping, 3 4 , } 1 I-11n· I 5 , 3 1 3 n·40 Goody, J., 3 19n. 3 Gracious Hostes5 (Lutes), 5 S G ra nt, Cary, 1 80 Green, Nicholas, 9 2. Green wich Village, 61. Gross, Larry, 2. S 3 Habermas, jiirgen, 104, 2.0 5 , 191, 3 3 7n· 3 8 habitus, 1 1 4, 1 3 9 , 14 5-4 6, 189 Halle, David, 1 74 happiness, 2.8, 3 0, 3 1, 50 Harper's Bazaar. 3 3 5-}6n.8 Harper's m a gaz ine , 83, 3 11 -12.n. 1 5 hedonism, I I , 1 5 , 3 5 . 3 6, 47 , 77 , 1 8 8 , 1 9 } , 2. 8 9-90 Hirschman, Albert 0 . , 1 7L , 1 1 5 Hi rsh, Fred, 99

Index

Hochschild. Arlie. 4 Hollywood star system . P .- H , 4 3 honeymoons, 9 3 Horkheimer, Max, 104 How to Marry the Man of Your Choice (Kent), 1 3 5 h uggi ng, images of, 3 5 hypergamy, ( 3 4 If I Am So Wonderful. Why Am I Still Single? (Page), 1 1 6, 117 IIIouz, Eva, ( :t S image-building, advertising abo u t, 83 Indecent Woman, An (movie ), 3 3 3 n . 1 6 indirect c on s u mpti o n, 1 13 individualism, and pre sen tati on of self, 3 5-36, 47; in romantic lo ve, 8-9, 10, 1 5 Industrial Revolution, 3 1 7n. J infatuation, 3 , ( S 8, ( 5 9, 1 60, :z. 8 8 i n for mati o n sector, 1 1 intensity, :z. 8 , 3 9, 4 1 , 5 3 , 1 74, ( 7 7 , 1 66-68

knowledge experts, 1 1, 1 4 Kohn, No rm a n , 1 9 5 Koselleck, Reinha rt, 1 79 la beli ng : of sentiments, 4; therapeutic function of, 101-3 Ladies Home Journal, 34, 3 1 1 -11n. I 5 Lady Cha tterley 'S Lover tLawrence ) , 1 3 8 Lamont, Michele, 1 10, 119, 139, z4o, 141

Lanu, Herbert, 147-4 8 , 3 1 In . 1 La Rochetoucauld, Fra n�o is, due de, 1 54, 1 8 0, 3 1 S n.7

laRocque, Rod, 33 Lasch, C h ri st oph er, 5 6 La s h, Scott, 98, 100, I I I late (advanced) c apit al i sm . See capitalism Laumann, E., l.I O, 3 3 4 n. 44 Lawrence, D. H_, 13 8 Lears, Jackson, 3 6, 1 44, 1 9 5 l ega l order, ro ma ntic love a s threat to, 8 Leiss, William, 3 8, I O:t , 1 3 6, 3 1 8 n.6 leisure, 1 2. , 17. 3 8-39, 8 3 ; and class,

Of, 3 00-3 03 intimacy, 3 9 , 69, :z. 6 3 -64, 18 S-86; adver­ ti si n g representations of, 8 3-84. 8 5-86. See also sexual intimacy

5 4-S S, 9 8 , t l I; commercialization of, 17-18 , 3 7, r 4 S-5 1 ; and romantic love, 10, 1 3- 1 -4 ; rural and urban practices of, 5 4-5 5 ; time available for, 66, 2.48, 1 7 I , 2.8 1 , 2. 8 S Levine, Lawrence. 3 4 I n . 6 Levison, Andrew, 269

isolation, romantic, 5 5 , 5 6. 6 5-66, 8 7 , 9 5 , 104-5, l l S - 1 6 , 140, 1 8 1 , 3 1 9n.10

limerance, 3 1 7n.6

interpretive authori ty, 1 1 -l.l. interviews: questionnaire tor, 3 04-1 ( j sample of, 1 9-1 1 , :z.97-3OO; technique

irrational ity, 108-9 Isherwood, 8., 1 4 5

JakIe, J., 1 4 1 james, Henry, 108 , 1 1 1 jameson, Fredric, 1 1, 9 3 , 9 5 . 1 4 3 . 174, 1 7 7, 1 8 4 Jhally, S., 3 8 johnson, Floyd, 1 5 6

Julie, ou fa nouvelle Heloise (Rousseau), 3 3 4n·40

Kalmijn, M., 1 1 0 Kant, Immanuel, 9 4 "Keep Away from the Fellow W h o Owns an Automobile" (song), 5 7 Kellner, D ougl as , 1 09 Kent, Marga r et , 1 3 5 Kephart, William, 109, 1 1 9 Kern, Stephen, 1 4 6 , 194 kinship, d est a bi li za tion of, 8 kiss ing: and consu m pti on, 84; in ex­ c ha n ge for dates, 67; images of, 3 1 , 3 5, 45 Kline, S., 3 8

Uvi-Strauss, Claude, 8 , I 7 Lewis. Helen, 1 0 S lifestyle, 2, 1 Z

liminality, 1 0, 1 4 , II 1 , 1 4 1-4 5 , 1 5 1 , 1 74 , 1 7 5 , 1 8 1-83, 2. 5 0, 186, 189 literacy, 148 love. See courtly love; pa ss i on ; romantic

love

love affairs. See affairs love at first sight , 1 5 7-60, J 66-6 8 , 2.88-89 Luckman, Tho ma s , 3 3 3n.14 Lu h ma n n, Niklas, 1 69 Lukacs, Geo rg, 147 Lutes, Della Thomps on , 55 luxury. See a ffl uence Lyman, S. M., 1 70 Lynd, Robert and Helen , S 5 Lyotard, jean-Fran�ois, 9 5 Lystra, Karen, 19-30. 8 7 , 9 3 MacCannel l, D., 1 4 1 , 1 4 3 Maclnt)'re, Alasdair, I S 5

Madame Bovary (Flaubert), 1 5 4 , 1 7 3 magazines: o n dating rules, 66-68; on romantic love , 3 0-3 I , 1 9-91; on sus-

Index taining romance, 40; therapeutic dis­ course in, 1 9 9-2.02. magic, metaphors of, 1 9 2. magnetic force, metaphors of, 1 9 1 Magritte, Rene, 1 I Male and Female (movie), 3 2 .1n. 3 5 male chauvinism, 2.00 manners, 5 5 , 70-7 1 . See also morality Marchand, Roland, 4 3 , 9 3 , 1 0 1 , 1 44 Marcuse, Herbert, 7, 1 4 9, 3 3 6n . I 5 markets, 1 97, 3 1 9n. 3 I ; as shapers of romantic rituals, 10, 1 4, 15, 76-77. See also mass markets marriage, 4, 2.7, 5 0- 5 1 ; advertising im­ ages of, 46, 8 5-90, 96; alternative models for, 5 1- 5 3 , 1 9 7; anxieties about, 3 3 , 4 1 , 49-54; aristocratic view of, 1 , 9; class divisions in, 7, 1 97, 1 1 0 as companionship, 46, 51, 5 3 0 2.90, 3 1 5n.4; contrasted with romance, 3 9-41, 4 6-47, 2.90; devaluation of, 1 4, 3 7 ; economic view of, 9, 51·, 7 5-76, 109, II 3; and happiness, 3 1, 50; hedonistic-therapeutic model of, 5 3 , 1 9 8-107, 148, 187, 191, 19 3-94; models of, as irrational, 1 8 9, 1 97; new definitions of, 28, 3 1-3 3 , 49 Marriage Education Movement, 3 3 5 n . 7 Marshall, Herbert, 3 3 , 3 8 Marx, Ka rl, 7 , 1 46, 149, 2.94, 3 16n. 5 2. , 3 3 7n . 1 6 mass markets, 1 , 1 5 . 16. See also markets mass media, I, 1 8. 18, 107- 1 0 , 3 4 I R. S ; coverage o f romantic love in, 30-3 I , 2.03-4 Mauss, M . , 2.42. May, Elaine. 1 5 -16, 51, 66 May, Lary, 3 2., 3 14n.68 McGovern, Charles, 71 McKinsey, Elizabeth, 93 melodrama, 3 1, 39 merged identities (souls), 1 1 7, 1 9 4 , 1 9 6 methodology, 1 6-11, 2.97-3 0 3 , 304- 1 1 middle class, 1 1 0 , 198; dating and romantic love among, 60-61, 64-6 5 , 68, 7 1 -7 1; interviews of, 1 9-20, 1 5 9 . See also class divisions Mills, C. Wright, 1 1 Mintz, S., 3 1 5n. 1 7 Miserables, Les (Hugo), 3 3 4n.40 moral individualism, 9 morality, vs. romantic love, 8, 30, 3 4-3 5 movies: romantic love in, 3 1 - 3 3 , 4 1 , 4 3 -44, 4 6, 1 7 8 ; and dating, 59-6 1 ; he­ donism of, 3 6; social behavior taught by, 4 5-4 6

mythology, of romantic love, 7, 30, 1 0 8 , 1 7 8 , 3 I 8- [ 9n. 1 3 narrative structures: o f adventures, 1 70, 1 7 1 , r 8 I ; of affairs, 1 73-7 5 , 1 8 1 , 189; of autobiography, 1 5 5-56, 1 66-70, 167; of intimacy, 1 8 5 -86; of romantic love, I S S-5 6, 1 66-70, 1 7 1 , 1 8 1 , 167, 1 8 5 -86, 188 national loyalties, 8 nature: objective scarcity of, 99-1 00; ro­ mantic idiom of, 9 1 --9 5 , 96-97, 1 0 5 , 1 3 9-40, 150 Newsweek magazine, 8 3 New Woman magazine, 1 9 4 , 3 3 5-36n.8 New York Times Magazine. 8 3 Nietzsche, Friedrich Wilhelm, 1 nostalgia, utopian aesthetic of, 91-94 Novak, Barbara, n I n.30 novels, romantic love in, 3 I nuclear family, 1 5 . See also family oblique consumption, 37-3 9 Oedipal conflict, 100 Old Wives for New (movie), 3 11n . 3 5 Olson, David, 3 4 3 n. 3 1 oral mode of representation, I S Origin of the Family, Private Property and the State (Engels), 6-7 Otto, Rudolf, l I B Page, Susan, 1 1 6 Pamela ( Richardson), 1 1 3 passion, 39, 1 9 3 ; in love, [ , 8 , 1 7 1-7 3 ; marriage as threat to; reasons for, 108-46; reason within, 1 8 7-107 Payne Fund Studies, 44 Peiss, Kathy, 17, 34 personal freedom. See individualism person fetishism, 1 4 8 petting, 17, 3 1 , 3 5 , 67 Philadelphia Story. The (movie), 3 14 n . 5 4 photogra phic realism, i n advertising, 4 3 Photoplay magazine, 3 1 , 3 3 , 34, 3 8 , 6 7 , 7 3 , 3 1 1-11n. I 5 , 3 1 3n·40 physiological arousal . See arousal Pickford, Mary, 3 3 "Picture Show Spoon, The" (song), 5 9 pleasure, I 7 2. , I 9 1-9 3 political economy, 66, 74-76 Popper, Karl, 3 3 7n . 3 8 Post, Em i ly, 60 post-ford ism, 1 1 postmodem culture, 12., 1 5-1 6, 78, 8 2. , I OG- I O I ; fiction a n d reality blurred in, 5 0, 1 5 3-8-4; gender equality in, 17 S , 1 84; hedonism in, 1 [ , 1 5 , 3 5 , 3 6 , 47.

Index

3 70 postmodem culture (continued) 77, 1 8 8 , 1 9 3 , 2. 8 9-90; romantic love in, l a, 1 2. pragmatism, 1 0 Pretty Woma n (movie), 3 17n.66 Pride and Pre;udice (Austen), 3 39n.1 5 print, as mode of representation, 1 5 privacy, 2. 5 . See also couples private property, 7 Proust, Marcel, 1 1 9 psychoanalysis, 8 6-87, 2.00-10 1 psychology, of emotions, 3 public liS. private spheres, 9, 5 6, 1 3 0 pure relationships, 1 0 6, 187 Pygmalion (Shaw), 3 1 7n.66, 3 4 0n . 3 6 random mating, 8 rationality, in methodology, 1 7 rationalization: and capitalism, 1 8 8-89, 1 9 5-96; of romantic love, 2.04-7 realist traditions, romantic love in, -4, 50, 1 60-66 recreation. See leisure; travel Redbook magazine, 3 4 3 n . 3 1 relationships, realistic, 1 6 2. religion, I l 1 ; love as, 8, 10; separation o f love from, 2.8-H restaurants, 72.: romantic idiom of, 1 1 1-2.1, 1 15-3 1 Richardson, Samuel, 2. 1 3 Ricoeur, Paul, 1 4 5 Rieff, Philip, 103 ritual objects, 1 1 6- 1 7 rituals, 1 0-1 I , 1 1 3 , 1 4 5 ; o f consumption, 8, u S- p .; romantic, 8, 1 5 . 2. 8 6 romance. See romantic love romantic affairs. See a ffairs romantic competence, 148 romantic entrepreneurship, 1 9 5 romantic love, 1 , 6 , 7, 1 8 , 1 1 6- 1 7 , 108-9, 1 4 7 ; activities associated with, 1 1 1-2. 5 ; and affluence, 1, 9 5-1 0 1 , 1 1 1 , I }2.- 3 7 , l S I ; agapic, l I l-I S , 12.0, 2.45, 2. 9 1 ; class divisions i n , 14, 1 6, 2.6, 96-97 , 2. 1 9-2.0, 2.47-87,

194-9 5 ; commodification of, I I , 1 3 , 2. 6, 1 8 , H-39, 54, 6 S -66, 1 2.0-3 1; communication in, 2.} 4-40, 2.68, 1 7 5-77, 179-8 1 , 1 87; contrasted with marriage, 39-4 2. ; cultural meanings of, 6 , 19 2. ; as cultural practice, 1-6; de­ fetishism of, 1 4 8-49 ; educational and cultural boundaries of, 2.2.8-2.9, 1 3 0-3 2., 2.3 3-3 4, 2. 3 8, 1 3 9 ; elementary forms of, 149-5 1 ; emotional bound­ aries of, I 1 7-10; erosic, 2.1 I, 2. 1 2.- 1 S, 2. 1 6; feminization of, 1 04, 10 5 ; fre-

quency of, 168, 1. 7 3 -7 4 , 1 8 s ; and hap­ piness, 18, 30, 3 2. , 5 0; hedonistic­ therapeutic model of, 5 3 , 1 9 8-107, 2.48, 2.8 2., 1 87, 1. 90 , 1 H-94; images of, I S , 3 1- 3 3 , 41.-46, 1 01-10; merged identities (souls) in, I I 7, 1 94, 1 9 6; metaphors of, 1 9 1-96, 3 3 5 -3 6n . 8 ; moral and personality boundaries of, 1.2.7-30, 1.41.; mythology of, 7, 30, 108, 1]8, 3 1 8-19n.2.3; narrative struc­ tures of, I S S-56, 166-70, 1 7 1 , 1 8 1 , 2.67, 2.8 5-86, 188; phenomenology of, S. 1.66; as pleasure, 1 9 1-9 3 ; political economy of, 66, 74-76; rationalization of, 1 89; rea lity and fiction blurred in, 1 5- 1 6, 50, 1 5 3 - 8 4; relationships in, 1; as sacred, 8, 1 0, 2.8-19, 185; secular­ ization of, 8, 10, 2.8-3 3; socioeco­ nomic bounda ries of, 12.0-2.7; sociol­ ogy of, 1 1 -2.2.; spatial boundaries of, I I S-I 6; as subversive (transgression), 3, 8-I I ; symbols of, 4-.5 , 6; temporal boundaries of, I I 3 - 1 5 ; uncapitalistic characteristics of, 1-3 ; universalist view of, 3 I 7n . 6; Western value of, 8, 2.7, 2.8, 30; work ethic in, I I, 1 6, 77, 1 6 3 , 1 8 7-88, 1 9 2., 1 9 3-96, 174 romantic self, 87-88 , 9 1 -9 2., 93, 1 4 3 , I 7 S-76 , I 80 Romantic tradition, 94; definition of ro­ mantic love in, 4, 1 7 3 , 1 74 , 1 9 3 , 2.9 1 ; love a t first sight in, 1 5 8 , 1 5 9, 160 Romeo and Juliet, myth of, 1 5 3 , 3 1 8-19n·2.3 Rothman, Ellen, 40, 93 Rowson, Susanna Haswell, 30 Rubin, Lillian, 2.76, l8 I , 3 4 3 n . 3 3 Russell, Benrand, 3 1 9n.16, H I n . I sacred, 8, 10, 18-19, I I 8 , 18 S Sartre, Jean-Paul, Hon.8 Saturday Evening Post, 34, 3 6, 3 1 1-un. I 5 , 3 1. } n·4 0 Seamoni, J. H., 2.} 7 Schachter, S., 3 Sehudson, Michael, 1 9 , 9 1 Schutz, Alfred, 1 6 1 , 1 6 3 Scirovsky, Tibor, 1 7 1 , 1 7 2., 1 7 3 , 166 Scott, M., 1 7 0 Seidman, Steven, 1 5 9 self-analysis, therapeutic value of, 103-4 self-control, loss of, l 1 1 self-interest, role of, .l I S , 2. 1 9, 12.1-2.2., 2. 2. 5-1.7, 14 0-4 1., 2.4 6 Self magazine, 1 94, 3 3 5-3 6 n . 8

Sennett, Richard, 5 6 sentiments, 4 , 5 , 9 · See also emotions

Index

service sector, 1 2 , 98-99, 2. 3 8 sexua l arousal. See arousal sexual freedom, and dating, 56, 57 sexua l intercourse, in exch ange for dates, 67 sexual intimacy, 2.7, 189 sexua l ity, 5 , 1 5 8, 1 5 9-60, 1 84 sexual restraint, 1 7 1 Sheik, The ( movie), 3 2., 6 2.-6 3 , 64 Shorte r, Edward, 2.09, H I n . 2. Simmel, Georg, 1 69 Singer, ]., 3 Sk in n er, El len , I 5 6 Sleepless in Seattle (movie ) , 3 3 5n. 5 I Smith, Barbara Herrnstein, 3 3 3 n. 1 6 social divisions. See class divisions social learning theo ry, 4 5 social mobility, through marriage, 1 9 7 , 108, 1 1 3 , 110, 1 1 5 , 1 6 7 Sombart, Wern e r, I 3 2. songs: a bout automobiles, 5 7 , 5 8-59, 68-69; dating rules in, 67, 68-69; about movies, 4 3-44 , 5 9-60 Son of the Sheik, The ( movie), 6 3-64 Sorrows of Young Werther, The (Goethe) , 3 3 4 n ·40 spending, of discretionary income, 50-5 I Stone, Lawrence, 46, 1 69 , 3 1 5 n . 1 7 sublime, utopian aesthetic of, 9 1 , 94-9 5 , 1 3 9-40 Swidler, Ann, 1 96 sy mbo l ic anthropol ogy, I H symbolic domination, 148, 2.65-68 "Take Your Girlie to the Movies (If You Can't Make Love at Home) " ( song), 60 tec hno-c a pita \ism, ] 3 Tennov, Dorothy, 3 1 7n.6 theater, romantic love in, 3 1 th e rapeutic ethos, 1 9 8-2.07, 148, 187, 190, 191, 193--94 Th om pson, E. P., 3 4 I n . 2. Time magazine, 8 3 Tocqueville, Alexis d e , 3 3 10.18 tourism, 5 8- 5 9 , 7 2., 9 7, ] 1 1 - 2 2. , 1 4 2.-4 3 , 2. 6 4 . See also travel transnational capitalism, 3 19n. 3 1 tra\'el, romantic idiom of, 88-9 ] , 1 3 7-44, 164-65 Traviata, La (Verd i l , 3 Hn.40 Treatise on Love and Its Remedies (Capellanus), 1 3 4 Tristan a n d Isolde, myth 01, 2.47, 3 ] 8- 1 9n . 2. }

371 Tristan und Isolde (Wagner), 3 } 4n.40 "true " love. See romantic love Turner, Victor, ]0, ] 41, 1 4 3 , ] 4 4 un med i ated cons umpti on , I 2. 3-2.4 up per-middle class, 60, 198; interviews of, 1 9-2.0, 2. 5 9. See a/so class divisions Urry, J., ] I I utilitarian individualism, 1 94 , 1 9 8 utopia, 7-8, 4 8 , 81; experienced through romantic love, 1 0, 1 3; soc ial unity in, I, 4 8 , 96--9 7 ; of transgression, 6-1 1 vacations. See tourism; travel Valentine's Day, 1 1 5 , 2.40, 3 2. 3 n . 5 }, H0-4 I n · 4 8 Valentino, Rudolph, 3 2. , 62., 63 va n Dijk, T. A., 3 3 5-3 6 n . 8 Veblen, T., 1 3 4 Waller, Willard, 3 7 , 56, 109- ] 0 wealth, 1, 9 . See also afflue n ce Weber, Max, ] 4 6 , ] 7 3 , ] 8 8-89, 1 90, 1 9 5 , 2.04, 2.07, 2 1 2., 140, 2.94, 196, 3 1 7-1 8n.8 Webster's Ready-Made Lotle Letters. 5 5 White Palace ( movie), Hon. 3 6 Why Change Your Wife? ( movie ) , 3 2.2.n · 3 5 Williams, Raymond, S r , 8 2. Williams, Rosalind, 41 Woman ma ga zin e , 1 9 r , H 5- } 6n.8 Woman 's Home Companion, 3 2. 1 -un . l S women, I , 7 , 8 , 2.9, 64; cha ngi n g status of, 2.7, 49, 74-7 5 ; and dating conven­ tions, 67-6 8 , 69-70 work ethic, in ro ma n ti c love, 1 I, ] 6, 77, 1 6 3 , 1 87-8 8 , ] 9 1, 1 9 3-9 6 , 174 working class, 1 1;, 2. :1.4, 197-9 8 : adver­ rising images fo r, 34, 3 6; dating and romantic love among, 59-60, 6 1 , 64-6 5 , 67-68; intervi ews of, 1 9, 2. 5 9-60. See also cla ss divisions Wuthnow, Robert, 1 1 , 1 3 5 , 3 2.9 n . 3 youth culture, development of, 2. 7 , 5 6 Zeldin, Theodor, 9 Zelizer, Viviana, S O- 5 1 Zerubavel, Eviatar, I I ) Zweckratiollalitiit ( purposive rationa l i ty), 1 8 8, 1 9 8

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