I wouldn’t put racist comedy in the same category as a comedy of manners — the latter requires a high degree of sophistication while the former is fairly easy to accomplish. And I should have been more clear in my response that when I was talking about making fun of others, I meant from a higher level, not the lowest possible level. I apologize for being unclear.

And I would agree that it’s equally difficult to make fun of people who are the same as us. I still believe political correctness has more of an effect on incisive comedy than the lack of commonly-understood social structures. Where I live, if I were to write about any of the social structures, from business to a country club, it would necessarily include people from a wide variety of economic levels, sexual preferences, and ethnic backgrounds. Immediately I encounter a situation where I perceive roadblocks, even if they’re in my own mind. Sure I can move beyond these issues (and have), but the fact that it will be my name on the work (even if I were to employ a pseudonym, finding out the truth isn’t particularly difficult), and, even though the work is clearly fiction, there remains a sense of worry that others will think I’m expressing my personal opinions. Jane Austen did not have to face this level of scrutiny, and based on what I know, likely wouldn’t have published under her own name at any time in her lifetime.

It makes no sense at all: Jane Austen was very much an inhabitant of the world she skewered. Where did you get the idea she wasn’t?

The problem with writing incisive comedy about our known world is that to do so requires absolute fearlessness on the part of the author, and that’s not easy. It’s hard to make fun, even in the nicest possible way, of people who are different than us.

Actually, it’s very easy – as witness the vast number of racist jokes that regularly circulate.

What is difficult is making fun, even in the nicest possible way, of people who are the same as us – particularly if, like Jane Austen, you are a denizen of the world you mock.

This is not placing random blame on political correctness, it is, to me, a natural aspect of our times and the world we live in.

It does appear to me that you have managed to completely misunderstand the nature of a comedy of manners…

Romance novels by women are beloved by men as objects of well-deserved mockery. Where women cannot be mocked, we are ignored, because a woman who cannot be mocked is a frightening thing indeed — which brings us right back to what you said about fear.

The problem with writing incisive comedy about our known world is that to do so requires absolute fearlessness on the part of the author, and that’s not easy. It’s hard to make fun, even in the nicest possible way, of people who are different than us. It is even harder to be brutally honest in fiction about those differences. With so many groups and individuals are quick to take offense, this is where an author’s fearlessness comes into play. This is not placing random blame on political correctness, it is, to me, a natural aspect of our times and the world we live in. It was easier for Jane Austen to write what she wrote because her identity was known to relatively few. She didn’t really have to inhabit the world she skewered, if that makes sense.

Oh, come off it. I am so tired of people randomly blaming everything on a modern desire to be polite and courteous to all – which is the essence of “political correctness”, when it’s not being used as a snide way to say “we hate feminism”.

Rather, the comedy of manners has all but disappeared because novel readers no longer reliably live in a culture with set rules/conventions that the writer knows all her readers will know without having to have them explained to them. (Even now, Jane Austen needs footnoting.)

Here’s a suggestion: read Joanna Russ’s book, How To Suppress Women’s Writing…

This is the same basic structure any romance follows — weaving internal and external plot issues. It could be as simple as fighting city hall (kicking and punching your way through paperwork) or as big as saving the world (if you don’t do this, the planet will explode). Not only do two people find happiness, but other personal issues are resolved as well as the main storyline.

If I’m not making sense, it’s the lack of caffeine.

You’re so right about The Corrections, though I would argue even further: had it been written by a woman, it wouldn’t have been taken nearly as seriously as it was. And I found it to be a flawed novel on many levels (not the least of which was I found myself hoping they all died and put us out of our misery), and I think the author’s gender gave him more leeway than a female author would have been afforded.

It is my belief that for women’s fiction to be taken seriously, we need to take it seriously ourselves. And part of that is working out the quality/quantity thing…and someday, a brilliant solution will come to mind!

But I have a serious question. Atlas Shrugged has at its center a plot about great minds going on strike. It’s main plot is not woman and man meet and fall in love. That is very much the sub plot. So could anyone really call the book a romance novel? By definition doesn’t a romance have to have the romance as the main plot.

And nothing pisses me off more than the fact that women’s fiction takes second place. There are far too many novels for me to list – that had they been written by women rather than men would have been called either domestic fiction or wormens fiction and been basically ignored. The Correcctions for one. It was domestic fictin but because a man wrote it it was LITERARY fiction.