I come before you to make the case that we need more platonic relationships in fiction, especially YA. *Ehem.*
Practically every mainstream YA book out there has some sort of romantic relationship. Why? Because the teen years are when romance and sex are common — at least in this day and age.
However, I was raised with the firm conviction that dating shouldn’t be done until one is actually ready for marriage, and I’ve also been kept sheltered from many of the disgusting realities of this world. Sadly, I’ve learned about things before my parents had a chance to teach me about them because I read it in a book marketed to teenagers. And even when YA hasn’t got actual smut in it, the majority of things out there seem to be encouraging us to be biting our nails over which boy or girl to pick, which, if you’ve decided to put off dating until adulthood, is an annoyance and a negative influence. It’s just irritating, and completely unrelatable.
Solomon 8:4 ESV
I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, that you not stir up or awaken love until it pleases.
Now, I don’t have a boyfriend. Don’t plan to for a while yet. I’m trying to finish school and launch my career. But what I do have are amazing friends. I’ve known them since I was little — practically grew up with them. We’ve been through the ups and downs together, and I am incredibly grateful for them.
So I can’t relate to erotic or romantic relationships. But I sure can with platonic. There are no words to describe how much I value my platonic friendships. Sadly, however, I can rarely find fictional relationships to mirror my real experiences.
The Undervalued Story Power of Friendships
Platonic relationships are, in my opinion, even better than romantic ones in books. Romantic relationships are so overdone that you can spot them from a mile away. It instantly ruins the stakes and mechanics of a story by making it predictable. There’s so little nuance in these same tired tropes that they’ve got names now, like ‘sunshineXgrumpy,’ ‘love triangles,’ and ‘save the princess.’
But the real driver of characters and conflict are friendships. Take one of my favorite fictional friendships out there — Cap and Bucky. Civil War, without their friendship, would have practically no conflict at all. The movie isn’t about the Sokovia Accords — those are merely a catalyst to start the tension and get the characters to the convention where Bucky is framed. No, what really moves that story is Cap’s relentless determination to protect his friend no matter what, despite anything and everything he might have to give up. Or for a more famous example, take Sam and Frodo. Their interpersonal conflict over Gollum provides deeply emotional interest during a long stretch of what would otherwise be boring walking, and provides good interludes between moments of action from the other characters off in Gondor. Sam’s sheer loyalty to Frodo and his determination to help him even if it makes Frodo hate him carry that plot.
You rarely find that sort of character motivation in romance — it often ends up becoming an irrelevant side plot. Fitz and Keefe, in Keepers of the Lost Cities, are really just distractions to the MC Sofie, hindering her from more actively pursuing the villains. At this point we’re up to nine books and she’s only just finally chased the villains herself, instead of ending up as their victim. I know, I know, I just said something very controversial there. Hate me later and hear me out.
On the other hand, in Civil War, love of a platonic variety drives Cap to break laws, make enemies, and risk his own skin to rescue Bucky, burning practically every bridge behind him. In essence, that platonic relationship is the entire plot of the movie. He has a developing romantic relationship with Sharon, but it doesn’t overwhelm the story.
Furthermore, platonic relationships strengthen both the individual characters and them as a team, pursuing the goal. As C.S. Lewis puts it, friends are looking forward, lovers at each other. When your characters know someone has their back or they’re working with someone they shine with, they’ll be all the stronger. Exhibit A, Frodo and Sam. But what your characters do together doesn’t have to be as dramatic as reaching Mount Doom. Cap and Bucky? Fantastic team. Nearly killed Iron Man. Legolas and Gimli? Helped Aragorn in his travels and with three wars, even up to the gates of Mordor. Merry and Pippin? Provided lighthearted, hobbity comic relief. Dustfinger and Farid? You need a distraction or a quick escape or fire of any kind, they’re your duo.
The Uses of Romantic vs Platonic Relationships
Other than some very famous relationships — Buttercup and Westley, for example, romance tends to impede the characters rather than further them. Now, romance can be done well, but more often it is done sloppily. Very, very rarely, Christian fiction writers will get this right and end up producing a clean, sweet relationship. The Fireborn Epic has so far been a good example of this, where the characters don’t let their relationship interfere with the plot and actually have a sweet, very grounded relationship that isn’t constantly nosediving into angsty emotions. But even Christians have written things that cause me to cringe and roll my eyes. In one particular series… all my respect to the author, but the pregnant female lead was kidnapped just for the sake of making the male lead panic. Well, he rescued her and that was that, but literally nothing changed. The plot wasn’t furthered in a bit. It was like a short detour and then they hopped right back on the road. Sometimes romance drives characters to reveal their depth and change. More often it turns them into lovesick fools with all-too-easy-and-obvious-to-exploit weaknesses.
Let’s look at Dustfinger and Farid, of Inkheart. Dustfinger’s romantic relationship… meh. Farid’s… well, let’s just say Meggie is heartless, but that’s off-topic. If it weren’t for Farid, Dustfinger would have continued to be the selfish coward he was. Not even his rocky relationship with his wife changed that part of him, nor did his crush on Resa. No, it was Farid’s death that brought him to the climax of his arc, to a beautiful sacrifice and the noblest thing that antihero Dustfinger ever did in the Inkworld trilogy.
Friends and love interests can push characters — they just do it in different ways. Maybe love for Buttercup drives Westley to scale the Cliffs of Insanity, battle Inigo, Fezzik, and Vizzini, and suffer torture at the hands of Humperdinck, but boy does he give Buttercup a bit of a tongue-lashing at the thought of her unfaithfulness in the original novel. You can’t blame him, but romance often brings out the irrational side of characters, and after a while, constant irrational emotions get tiring to read about.
In Civil War, Cap doesn’t act irrationally in the throes of romantic passion. Sure, he takes risks. But to him, Bucky is worth it. Cap’s actions are calculated and chosen as he weighs different things he values, rather than emotionally driven. What this brings out are his positive qualities, his loyalty and stubbornness. Instead of showcasing the main character in his jealousy and negative, impassioned moments (again, I’m generalizing,) having a platonic relationship in your book can help to bring out your character’s good traits.
Platonic relationships are also great for revealing the internal conflict of your characters through dialogue in a way that romance simply can’t. Too often, the dialogue between characters in love with one another is flirtatious, soppy, or downright disgusting. Not to say it can’t be done well — but generally relationships that are purely romantic are severely lacking in deeper revelation of your characters’ hearts. Beaumont and Beasley, for example, is a series that pulls this off well, but only because the male and female leads began as friends. And of course, written from a Christian worldview, it remains clean and we don’t have any steamy scenes.
To illustrate this point, which brings out a character’s longing better?
“You have stolen my heart.” or “I’m not sure I’m worth all this to you.”
These lines are from a Christian historical romance novel and Civil War, respectively. One is pure infatuation — feelings, emotions. Romantic dialogue is often poetic and cliched. The other… well, that’s speaking from the heart. There’s a character’s fear, his sense of unworthiness.
Now, my writers, this isn’t to say that you must feature a platonic relationship. Please, by all means, think critically and make your own artistic choices. It’s up to you. I’m just saying it’s a bit underrepresented, and is quite useful.
How to Write Platonic Relationships
Your platonic relationship doesn’t have to take center stage. For example, Legolas and Gimli — not main characters at all. They’re there to support the main characters. But their evolution from enemies to friends makes them a stronger team and showcases the worldbuilding in expounding on the relationship between dwarves and elves.
Same goes for Nock and Mallik, of the Door Within trilogy. Not main characters either — until the later short stories. But their banter provides humor and their friendship cause for suspense. When they later become main characters of short stories/novellas, it’s there that we dig a little deeper into fears, into positive and negative traits, and so forth, which in turn adds another layer of depth to the trilogy.
Another way to make platonic relationships more interesting and more useful is to have dynamic differences between the friends. Enemies to friends can do this, as can mentor to apprentice. There was more heartstring-tugging during the final fight and dialogue between Obi-wan and Anakin than between any exchange the future Darth Vader would ever have with Padme. Or take Kaladin and Adolin. That’s a heck of an enemies-to-friends for you. But not only do the characters grow by having each other, they grow in their outlook on the world. Adolin has a little more respect for bridgemen and commoners. Kaladin begins on the path to releasing the hatred he holds for nobles. Life-changing, worldview-altering developments… all because of one friendship.
The Negative Effects of Misdefining Love
I’ve already mentioned that romantic relationships often work purely off of feelings. Come the next book, she’s dumped that guy, or he leaves her for someone else, and cue the moping session. But, my friends, that is not how the Christian is called to love — romantically or platonically. We are called to love one another as Christ loved us. We are called to love with actions, not feelings. How, pray tell, are we to love our enemies if we must muster feelings of warmth or affection for them?
This was the question I asked myself when trying to deal with a challenging peer. I was worried that I was getting it all wrong merely by being ticked off at his rude behavior. There was nothing resembling warm, fuzzy feelings in my heart. ‘But I’m supposed to love my enemies, right?’
Well, some quotes, Scripture, and several Rebelution articles later, I realized the truth. Reading further from Lewis’ material helped solidify this. Love isn’t feelings. It’s actions. Love the sinner, hate the sin. Love the sinner with your actions. Do it, even if you don’t enjoy it. You don’t have to. The more you actively love that person, the more you’ll start to see them — and feel towards them — as God does.
Loving others in a biblical manner involves your thoughts, words, and actions and is a sign of your being a disciple of Christ. Loving others biblically is dependent on your commitment to the Lord Jesus Christ and is not dependent on people, circumstances, or your feelings.
– John C. Broger
By choosing to love others as Christ did, you’ll also realize that you’re just as bad as them. That person you’re struggling with isn’t the only one who drives someone up a wall. You do it to other people all the time. You’ll realize just how hard you are to love — and that’ll make the realization of what Christ did for you all the stronger.
Jesus isn’t like the cute moody vampire in one of today’s romances. He’s nothing at all like most of the love interests out there in books. He’s not thinking about Himself, agonizing about the feels between you, and He’s certainly not flirting with you. He’s loving you with a deep, steady, abiding love that’s never going to go away if someone prettier comes along or if you do something stupid. He gave up heaven, took on the body of a man, and was forsaken by God for you.
I know some people out there dream of their marriage day. That’s ok. You’re allowed to — and if you can healthily communicate that in your writing, kudos to you. Please, the Christian fiction world needs more Godly and honest examples of healthy erotic relationships — free of the stupid cliches and trite nothings. But I ask you, which is more representative of God’s love for us, the love we ought to have for others? Is it that shallow, feelings-based crush from pulp fiction? Or is it a relentless commitment expressed through actions and caring about a person’s soul?
Our writing ought to shine, writers. Shine bright and reflect God’s glory, God’s love, the Truth. And if all the relationships we get to see out there are unhealthy, ever-shifting ones, how will we ever see mirrors and allegories to the firm rock that is God’s love for us?
That’s it, friends. I’d love to hear your thoughts! See ya!
Further Reading:
C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves, Sarah Baran, Bookish Details that Deserve More Love
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