Erich Segal: A (Patriarchal) Love Story

I finally read the acclaimed romance novel, Love Story, by Erich Segal. Published in 1970, the novel is considered an 'enduring classic'. A quick read, the novel is full of clever wit, relatable social scenes, and is heart-warmingly emotional.

But I can't help noticing how the success of men is built atop the unspoken sacrifices of women in such romance novels. (SPOILERS AHEAD)

Jenny had always dreamed of going to Paris. She worked hard for that scholarship - juggling her job at a library and her academic responsibilities simultaneously. Oliver, on the other hand, lived off his father's cheque-book. And yet, once they are married, her dreams are completely ignored. The scholarship vanisheds from the narrative while Jenny quietly struggles to make ends meet so that Oliver, being cut off from his father's fortune, can earn his Law degree.

At one point, an exhausted Jenny asks Oliver if he would take a break from Law School and support her temporarily so she earn credits for a better teaching job. His eloquent response ? 'Shit!'. That's it. The reader is left guessing whether he will reciprocate her sacrifices (he doesn't). But apparently, he is making the the monumental sacrifice of learning to tolerate spaghetti - the cheapest food their budget allows on Jenny's lone, meagre salary. And it was up to Jenny to devise new ways of making it acceptable to his palate. After all, his needs reign supreme!

Jenny understands and initially accepts Oliver's complicated relationship with his father. Oliver, meanwhile, can't be bothered to understand her loving relationship with her father and practically ridicules their closeness.

They're perpetually broke. Still, she ensures he has tickets to watch the hockey game by himself since they can't afford tickets for both of them. He makes no similar gesture to the woman who once performed at concerts, despite mentions of regular concerts in the vicinity.

When they struggle to conceive, Jenny and the doctor have to massage Oliver's ego - explaining that sterility doesn't mean poor virility. Neither men spare a thought about Jenny, who has shelf her own anxieties to prioritise about Oliver's self-esteem about his ability to f*ck.

Throughout the story, Oliver is nothing but a man-sized child, with Jenny mothering him in her own playful way. She is genuine and grounded. She gives him the reality check about his parents potentially rejecting her due to her social status. She coaxes him into burying the hatchet about his ridiculous egotistical-war with his father. She works full time, cooks, cleans, is visibly exhausted herself, and yet worries about him. Meanwhile, he is simply enamoured by her like a child seeing an angel for the first time. His immature impulsiveness is interpreted as 'love'. His teenager-like rebellion against his father is viewed as 'passionate'.

And then she's diagnosed with cancer. But the male doctor won't tell her - because the woman who has been the pillar of strength throughout the story is suddenly 'too fragile' for the truth. So the doctor privately informs the 'brave' hero Oliver, instructing secrecy. And he does just that, so that the author can paint him as the suffering hero - a victim of a burdensome secret. Meanwhile, the actual victim, Jenny, is supposedly unaffected, unbothered by a serious medical affliction. Who cares about her needs anyway?

Several (several!) weeks later, Oliver finally notices (though assumes "she herslef probably didn't notice") that Jenny is losing weight. Yeah, right... a woman, amid all the social pressures about appearance, wouldn't notice weight loss? But in the several weeks that he is living with her, he somehow never seems to notice that Jenny (as she later reveals) has been 'feeling shitty all this while.' Probable nausea, appetite loss, energy depletion—you know, typical leukemia symptoms. How did he miss everything? But to keep her 'happy' and 'normal', he magnanimously 'lets her' keep doing all household chores.

Then she dies in hospital - her last moments spent consoling Oliver instead of the other way around. A twenty-four year old woman with hopes and dreams suddenly faces death, but Oliver has no concern for her terror or emotional needs. She must comfort the man who's probably just realizing that he now has to learn to take care of himself. Even at her deathbed, she is managing her mourners. Give the woman a break from all her labours for once!

I understand that the story is presented from Oliver's perspective, and so his emotions are given importance over hers. But the whole story simply glorifies women occupying the backseat, performing all the economic, domestic and emotional labour in a relationship (which classifies her as an 'ideal' woman) while never pursuing her own dreams as the man advances his career, earning societal recognition aided by his prestigious last name.

Ugh!

Before you judge me for the contents above, remember that I am not demanding a role-reversal. What I am simply looking for is equality in relationships. Shared responsibilities, shared dreams, shared labour. Maybe perfect equality is not always possible, but that doesn't justify one person shouldering the entire economic, emotional, and household labour in the relationship while the other remains entitled and self-absorbed. And for goodness sake, household chores is the responsibility of every adult - not just the woman. Worse, young people reading such novels subconsciously attempt to model this in their own lives.

So please, young people: much as your hormones crave romance, stay rational about marriage and long-term partnerships. Don't let movies and novels dictate your relationship standards.