Move over, Romeo and Juliet — make way for loathing-at-first-sight. True love, with its purity and insipid looks, has been done time and time again. Give me bickering, heated glances, palpable sexual tension and self-denial. Give me love that builds inexorably, much to the chagrin of those involved — who hate that their adversary — nay, the bane of their existence, is now the object of all their desires.
Unless you’ve been living under a rock this past month, you will have heard that Bridgerton Season 2 has landed. A smorgasbord of candy-coloured frocks, Regency gossip, towering wigs and orchestral versions of contemporary songs, Bridgerton is a must-watch for anyone who loves romantic drama, biting conversation, smouldering passion and pretty dresses.
The second season revolves around Viscount Anthony Bridgerton (Jonathan Bailey) and his quest for a suitably poised, dignified, and accomplished wife. The Viscount focuses his attention on the delightful Edwina Sharma (Charithra Chandran), who, on paper, is everything he is looking for.
Enter Edwina’s sharp and overprotective older sister Kate (Simone Ashley), whose disdain and loathing for Anthony is mutually reciprocated. Kate, already an old maid at the age of 26 by 19th-century standards, disapproves of Anthony after discovering he is not seeking a love match. Much to their alarm however, both Anthony and Kate find that the line between love and hate is not as clear-cut as [it] might seem. Through an intoxicating series of seemingly small interactions — fingers brushing past each other, lingering eye contact, and faces held just a little too close together — Anthony and Kate’s hate turns to love.
The enemies-to-lovers trope, while lesser known than its sister trope love-at-first-sight, nevertheless can be found in many staples of film and literature, from Much Ado About Nothing, to 10 Things I Hate About You, to Chloe Gong’s vibrant debut novel These Violent Delights. In essence, two characters start off as enemies, and over the course of the tale, fall in love. Differences, misconceptions, and tensions abound — it’s simply glorious.
There are countless variations within this trope; the couple might start off as sworn enemies on either side of a blood feud, or they might merely be class rivals.
Regardless, with increased time and proximity, individual grudges and loathings — pride and prejudices, if you will — are overcome as the couple move towards a shared goal.
Cliches can be comforting. They are familiar, recognisable and as reassuring as the promise of a warm bed after a long day. There is a typical arc to the enemies-to-lovers storyline; most stories start with a misunderstanding or bad first impression — perhaps a slighting at a ball, or a comment about one’s appearance being tolerable, but not sufficiently tempting.
Next, the animosity is thoroughly established through a series of poor decisions, awkward interactions, and outright clashes. Conflict builds until something comes along that requires the couple to work together — to build trust in each other, to show vulnerability and humanity. But the original tension still lingers until the breakthrough moment at which one, or both, characters realise that they have fallen in love with their once enemy.
Let me be clear. I do not wish to romanticise toxic relationships. It is important to distinguish between harmless, good-natured or unfounded dislike and genuine abuse. The fun in the enemies-to-lovers is found in watching the two characters overcome their prejudices and find love; not witnessing toxicity, manipulation, and abuse in the guise of "love".
I love this trope for myriad reasons. First of all, it embodies another trope — that of forbidden love.
Unlike in Romeo and Juliet, however, this is a self-imposed forbidden love, rife with internal conflict. In Bridgerton, for example, the forces keeping Anthony and Kate apart are entirely self-directed; the result of both characters refusing to acknowledge their true feelings.
Secondly, it is a trope accompanied by dollops of delicious drama — heated outbursts and protestations, accompanied by lingering stares and almost-kisses. It also allows for a much greater understanding of the characters — both by the reader (or viewer) and by the characters themselves. It enables the author to establish the two characters as individuals before they are presented as a couple; we see how both characters respond individually — and often in conflict with each other — to the same issue.
The enemies-to-lovers arc also allows for honesty and vulnerability within a relationship from the start. An enemy’s worst flaws are starkly visible; those of a lover however are often eclipsed by other affections. Characters travelling the enemies-to-lovers storyline are rewarded with a richer and deeper relationship; all flaws are transparent from the start, and are overcome or remedied as deeply held prejudices dissipate. Through Bridgerton’s love-hate relationship, we come to understand Anthony’s anxieties and grief over his father’s passing, and the pressing weight of societal expectations upon his shoulders. We also understand why Kate is just so prickly, continually placing her sister’s happiness above her own.
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, there’s the element of hope that accompanies the enemies-to-lovers trope — the notion that someone one previously loathed, disliked, or competed with might end up being one’s soulmate. Stranger things have happened; prejudices and disagreements are not insurmountable.
Now, dearest gentle reader, I must bid farewell — I have a copy of Pride and Prejudice that must be re-read.
- Jean Balchin, a former English student at the University of Otago, is studying at Oxford University after being awarded a Rhodes Scholarship.
