There are some unenlightened folk who are dismissive of the romance genre.
Unenlightened because they do not appreciate the work the writer does to research and develop a story. This is particularly true for authors of historical romances.
Readers of this genre tend to know more than the average person about their favourite period in history and they’re not afraid to tell you if there is a glaring anachronism.
Like the history of the waltz in England, which I use in Moonstone Obsession and discuss here.
In researching Moonstone Obsession’s sequel, Moonstone Conspiracy, I was reading about the less than pleasant topic of late 18th century abortions – not a nice topic to discuss at any time, but it is one of those facts of life one does need to address is one is to provide a legitimate and credible story that, hopefully, will resonate with readers today.
Considering that until the 1970s abortions and out of wed lock children were socially unacceptable, one might be tempted to think that discussion was taboo.
Besides the ubiquitous advertisements for hair products, complexion lotions, clothing, and dry goods that appeared in every newspaper, a number of newspapers accepted advertisements for thinly disguised treatment for unwanted pregnancies. Such ads appeared in newspapers of large cities and small towns and in newspapers with high and low circulation in the nineteenth century. Advertisers cloaked their remedies in phrases such as “Preventive Powders for married ladies, whose health forbids a too rapid increase of family,” “treatment of obstinate case of female irregularity, stoppage of suppression,” and relief “from severe pains which they occasionally suffer periodically.”…
…The presence of such advertisements in major newspapers, the success of abortion practitioners (Madame Restell became a millionaire), and the relative lack of prosecution despite its illegality and public censure suggest nineteenth-century society’s ambivalence toward abortion.
On the fine edge of this was Lydia Pinkham with her Vegetable Compound, developed in 1875, believed by some to be an abortifactant, but for many, many women using it claim to have found relief from what was then coyly termed ‘women’s complaints’ – PMS and menopause symptoms.
Today as women look for more natural-based treatments for those conditions, Lydia Pinkham is still there even today.
So it seems strange that her legacy in the modern era should be best remembered by three blokes in white suits.