Since many authors write in romance or its many subgenres, let’s go over the many different types of love we can write about, based on the Greek and Sanskrit words for love. Knowing these words allows us to find examples of them in our own work and deepen their meaning.
These words do not belong to a single ancient taxonomy of love, nor does each have only one precise English equivalent. I’m using them as creative lenses: ways of noticing the different bonds operating within a story and asking how those bonds might be dramatized.
Each word gives us a different question to ask about a relationship: What does this character want to give? What do they expect in return? What will they sacrifice? How do they behave when the person they love succeeds, suffers, or needs protection?
Let’s start with agape (a-GAH-pay), which podcaster Thomas Umstattd Jr., defined as “selfless charity that gives without demanding anything in return.” If you’re a mystery reader, you probably recognize this in the detective’s drive for justice, often at a personal cost. The café owner quietly feeds a customer who cannot pay. The bookseller risks the business by providing a meeting place for an unpopular cause. The librarian helps a frightened teenager find information the community would rather suppress.
Most people are familiar with eros, the face-to-face fire of romantic passion. This is the engine for romance novels, from the meet-cute to the first kiss to the expression of love between two partners. You can deepen these feelings without getting into X-rated territory simply by taking a moment to recognize these and give them time to breathe. The characters don’t just kiss, for example. They feel that emotion in their bodies. Some will analyze their feelings. Sometimes that kiss will happen in unusual circumstances, leading to fear or humor.
The bodily response matters, but so does the character’s interpretation of it. Does the kiss feel like safety, surrender, danger, recognition, or a loss of control? The same physical act can mean something entirely different to each participant.
A companion of eros is the Sanskrit term, anurāga, for affection that deepens over time. Long-term friendship can be demonstrated by memories of past actions. It’s a great term to think of when writing about couples who have been together for a long time. An older friend, aunt, or grandmother might help a character see beyond the lightning bolt of eros to the gradual accumulation of affection: the remembered preferences, private jokes, forgiven mistakes, and ordinary acts of consideration that make love durable.
Think of the song “Do You Love Me?” from Fiddler on the Roof, the duet between Tevye and his wife Golde.
Philia is “the shoulder-to-shoulder bond of a shared mission.” In my golden retriever mysteries, amateur sleuth Steve and his best friend, police detective Rick, share this bond of not only friendship but the shared mission to solve the crime. Rick’s willingness to ask for Steve’s help demonstrates respect for his abilities; Steve’s willingness to enter danger demonstrates loyalty. Their shared mission turns friendship into action.
Philia can happen in romance as well, between best friends, and among co-workers. This is a great opportunity for “show, don’t tell.” Don’t just say your heroine and her bestie are friends, show them acting out some aspect of philia.
Philia is related to the Sanskrit word maitrī, for loving friendship. Philia is often about a shared mission. Maitrī is goodwill and kindness without needing a common goal.
Modern discussions of the Greek words for love often include pragma, meaning “a long-enduring, practical, committed love.” Although this is a contemporary application rather than a distinct ancient Greek category of love, it offers writers a useful way to think about relationships that have endured through habit, compromise, and care.
Often there will be a devoted pair of long-term lovers in romance and mystery, like parents or neighbors. In a romance, this can be demonstrated as aspirational. “I want the kind of love my parents have,” is a good statement, but it can be backed up with memory and action. My favorite example of pragma in my own life is the way that my husband cleans my CPAP machine for me.
Storge is the kind of love of a parent for a child, or the affection between a human and a pet. In a recent Substack post, author Terry Odell reminds us that dogs and cats are characters, and can be used to demonstrate emotion and commitment. It’s related to the Sanskrit sneha, for tender affection. When a character instinctively picks up and comforts a crying baby, sneha becomes visible through action.
A similar Sanskrit word is vātsalya. This is a very specific kind of parental love which emphasizes nurturing and protection over blood relations. In my recent golden retriever mystery, Dog of Secrets, 20-year-old Daniel has lost his parents in an automobile accident. In helping him investigate the crime, my sleuth Steve provides the kind of nurturing and protection Daniel has lost.
Another Sanskrit word is karunā, which means compassion for suffering. A profession may give a character opportunities for karuṇā, but compassion appears in how the character responds: whether the exhausted nurse stays another minute, the veterinarian comforts a grieving owner, or the doctor listens when efficiency would be easier.
The final Sanskrit word to consider is muditā, joy in another’s happiness. It’s interesting that the German opposite, schadenfreude, is so much more common in today’s world. Consider whenever a character genuinely celebrates another person’s success. For example, when the rival baker tastes the winning dessert, recognizes its brilliance, and is sincerely delighted for the person who defeated her. In fiction, this is often what separates a true friend from a rival.
There are examples of these principles in a lot of popular art. Storge in The Sheep Detectives, for example, and philia and agape in Project Hail Mary. How the eventual end of the space adventure is driven by Ryland Grace’s friendship with Rocky.
What is most interesting, though, is how these forms of love can coexist, conflict, and develop within a single relationship. Choose one important relationship in your current manuscript and identify the kinds of love already present in it. Then ask three questions:
- Which kind of love does each character believe they are offering?
- Which kind does the other character actually need?
- What would force the relationship to change from one form of love into another?
The richest relationships rarely contain only one kind of love. Lovers must become allies. Friends may become protectors. Parents must learn that nurturing sometimes means letting go. When we distinguish among these emotional forces, we can do more than tell readers that characters love one another. We can show precisely what that love asks of them.
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Neil S. Plakcy is the author of more than 70 novels in mystery, romance, adventure, and healing fiction.