Romance month is nearly over.
Ssh, cease your enthusiastic cheers.
Somehow, over the past month, I neglected to mention a form of romance that I really do love.
What, is it possible that Janet should approve of, and even love romance?
Yes, it is. Here’s why.
I’m talking about romance romance, the real stuff: King Arthur and Scathach, Marian and Robin Hood, knights and ladies and commoners and dragons, chivalry and courage and heroism. Of great adventures and noble quests, of last stands and noble deaths, of sacrifices offered and made, of friendship so constant it could be mistaken for sisterhood, brotherhood, or true love, of true love and fidelity, of perseverance and kindness and grace and gentleness.
Of the kind of thing that really does make the world go round.
So here’s my tribute to Camelot tales, and tales of Sherwood Forest, to tales of Redwall and other idealized realms that elevate us with the certainty that truth and nobility are possible. To tales, even, of the Old Kingdom, of animal-and-child tales, of quests of all kinds. May these never be forgotten.