I’ve always been a big fan of first-person point of view in romance novels. I like the voice that shines through in a way that’s impossible with third-person POV. I like the humor and the way we really get to slide inside the character’s skin with her.
Or, I should say, I liked those things.
After reading a slew of first-person POV books in a row, I’ve realized that a rule of life in general applies to books, too: not every thought a person has is worth voicing. It’s perfectly all right to keep some thoughts private. And not every comment has to be snarky.
Maybe I’m just on first-person overload right now. Or maybe it’s that these particular characters whose heads I’ve been living in, frankly, aren’t that interesting. Certainly in one case, she and I don’t share the same sense of humor. While she carries on at length with her hilarious-to-her internal monologue, I’m hitting page-forward button as fast as my callused thumb can move.
But I think what I’ve outgrown about first-person pov in romance novels is the one-sidedness of it. If the hero is truly a hero, I want to get to know him. I want to spend time with him. I want to see what he thinks and how he feels about his heroine and everything else in his life. I want balance and perspective and knowledge, and a first-person pov book just doesn’t give you that.
Now, I’m still fine with first-person in other genres. It works great in mystery and elsewhere, but we don’t have the same emotional stake in a mystery or adventure or horror that we have in a romance novel. But if you want me to fall in love with your hero and your heroine, give me both their points of view. I’ll be a happy camper.