The “Kiss of Death” in “The Godfather: Part II”, directed by Francis Ford Coppola, based on the novel ‘The Godfather’ by Mario Puzo. Seen here from left, John Cazale (back to camera) as Fredo Corleone and Al Pacino as Don Michael Corleone.

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The “Kiss of Death” in “The Godfather: Part II”, directed by Francis Ford Coppola, based on the novel ‘The Godfather’ by Mario Puzo. Seen here from left, John Cazale (back to camera) as Fredo Corleone and Al Pacino as Don Michael Corleone.

Photo by CBS via Getty Images

Given the fact that it seems like Hollywood churns out nothing but sequels, you would think the industry would have perfected the genre by now.

Some sequels are pretty darn good, but many believe the perfect movie sequel came out 50 years ago this month.

Of course, we’re talking about Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather: Part II. It’s not only considered the greatest sequel of all time, it’s also considered one of the greatest movies of all time.

So why does Godfather II work, and where so many other sequels fall short?

NPR producer Marc Rivers weighs in.

For sponsor-free episodes of Consider This, sign up for Consider This+ via Apple Podcasts or at plus.npr.org.

Email us at considerthis@npr.org.

This episode was produced by Brianna Scott and Marc Rivers. It was edited by Courtney Dorning. Our executive producer is Sami Yenigun.

When Jamie Fortin moved to Washington, D.C., five years ago, she fell in love with the Virginia neighborhood of Alexandria and vowed to open a small business there. Last month, Fortin’s promise to herself became a reality. She opened Friends to Lovers, a romance-themed bookstore inspired by Meet Cute, a romance bookstore in her hometown of San Diego.

Friends to Lovers celebrated its grand opening on Nov. 14. “It was honestly just so joyful,” Fortin said. “We had a line around the block, which is not something I expected.”

Before the fire, Fortin estimated that Friends to Lovers offered around 800 romance titles.

Suhyoon Wood with the AEDP

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Just three days later, though, Fortin’s excitement went up in smoke after the building caught fire. The store sustained smoke damage, leaving the entire stock of books and merchandise unsafe to sell. Fortin was forced to close the store and go into what she described as “solutions mode.”

Fortin created the Friends and Lovers bookstore to be a space where women and queer people, who make up the overwhelming majority of romance readers, could feel safe.

In the U.S., the demand for romance books is booming. According to Publisher’s Weekly, seven of the top 10 books of the year fell under this category. In August, 550 bookstores across the U.S., U.K. and Canada participated in Bookstore Romance Day — the biggest celebration yet. Many readers have also taken to the internet to share their passion. Romance books dominate the #BookTok, a TikTok community with over 100 billion views. Creators like @listenwithbritt and @kendra.reads share their recommendations and reviews with hundreds of thousands of followers. Their videos have garnered millions of likes and views. Despite the genre’s popularity, Fortin says most of the bookstores she frequented didn’t dedicate much space to the genre. “Even though it may be their most popular selling genre, most bookstores have one or two shelves of romance,” she said.

At the grand opening of Friends to Lovers, many readers expressed the same sentiment. Some traveled more than an hour to browse the shelves. Readers came from Charlottesville, Va., Baltimore, Md. and more.

“Romance-centered bookstores are sorely lacking,” said Kayla Lloyd, who traveled from Annapolis to check out the bookstore. “We can go to Barnes & Noble and we can see the romance section, but you’re not going to get the selection that’s here.” Fortin says she stocks local and independent authors as well as bestsellers. She estimates that the bookstore offered about 800 titles before the fire.

“Outside of gay bars in the area, I think that there is definitely a lack of third spaces for people of color and queer people to hang out,” said Eleanor Bodington, a customer at Friends to Lovers.

Fortin partnered with two women who owned small businesses in the area to help launch their brands at the grand opening event. Women and queer-owned businesses also make all of the store’s non-book merchandise, including bags, hats and more. Even her store’s location was intentional, Fortin says. She wanted Friends to Lovers surrounded by other small businesses so that readers would be encouraged to support other entrepreneurs like her after they came to her store. “When I woke up [after the fire], I felt like I needed to live up to this space that I created that people are now relying on as a space they feel at home and safe,” Fortin said.

Fortin partnered with women and queer-owned businesses to create merchandise for her bookstore, including hats and stickers.

Courtesy of Maryam Bami

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Courtesy of Maryam Bami

Despite being open for just a few days, the community Fortin hoped to reach rallied around her business. Donations flooded in, surpassing Fortin’s $20,000 GoFundMe goal in 24 hours. After assessing the full extent of the damage, Fortin increased her donation goal to $45,000, eventually surpassing that one as well.

Fortin says she believes that her dedication to her goal of supporting women and queer businesses, combined with the tight-knit nature of the romance reading community, helped her rebuild quickly. “The community support has really buoyed me and pushed me to create something better out of the ashes, as it were,” she said. “There were more people than I ever expected that cared about my little bookstore.”

“When you set your mission, and you really stand by it, people say, ‘We love that mission. We’ll live that out as well,”‘ Fortin said.

Fortin opened a long-term pop-up location for Friends to Lovers on Dec. 7 at a nearby business. She continues to search for a new permanent location for the shop.

“It has been so overwhelming. I feel like the community is not letting me sit and wallow in my grief. Instead, they’ve said, ‘We’re going to fix this. We’re going to make sure it’s successful.”‘

Fortin says that because the romance community is used to their traditionally feminine interests not being respected, it doesn’t take the brick-and-mortar location for granted.

“I think we haven’t always had a lot of overwhelming support for things that women love,” Fortin said. “We love to say that things are ridiculous when women love them. There’s a lot of things that men love that we don’t consider ridiculous.” Fortin points out that teenage girls were the ones who loved the Beatles first before they became a household name. “Romance is one of the genres with the most staying power, that’s always been the least respected.”

“We’re creating a safe space to talk about things that are not celebrated in regular spaces,” she said. “Once women and queer people saw that, everyone said ‘let’s all stand behind this together.”‘

“The outpouring of support has been amazing as a bystander to watch,” said Maryam Bami, owner of Old Town Flower Gal. Bami launched her floral business at the Friends to Lovers grand opening. “I thought I was a fan of romance until I met some of the supporters of the bookstore.” Bami is one of several woman-owned businesses Fortin intentionally collaborated with. “She really just took a chance on all of us and really elevated us in the process,” she said.

Maryam Bami was one of several female entrepreneurs who launched their brand at the Friends to Lovers grand opening. Bami owns Old Town Flower Gal, a floral shop that specializes in “flower bombs.”

Courtesy Maryam Bami

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Courtesy Maryam Bami

As Fortin writes a new chapter for Friends to Lovers, she still views her community of business owners as vital to the bookstore’s success. She hopes readers supporting her rebuilding efforts will also patronize the nearby businesses that were also affected by the fire. She’s also encouraged supporters to donate to fundraisers for other businesses affected by the fire. “Women have constantly had to lift each other up and be each other’s solid ground,” she said. “If [my business] has all this hype and support and encouragement, I need to use that to build up other women and other brands.”

We met at a boba shop on Santa Monica Boulevard and Fairfax Avenue perfectly situated between our apartments in the lively heart of West Hollywood. I wore light-wash jeans with rips at the knees and a purple North Face long-sleeve that read “Save the Polar Bears.” My beige jacket was fluffy and felt excessive for an L.A. winter. My dark brown hair was pulled back in two braids.

I sat at one of the bistro tables, my nerves tingling. The crisp winter air flowed in through the open doors, carrying the thrill of a first date. A few minutes later, I spotted him turning the corner. He approached in oversized light-wash jeans and a black hoodie, his cap casting a shadow over his face.

When he stepped into the shop’s fluorescent light, his bright blue eyes, lightly lined with black eyeliner, met mine. He smiled, and I noticed how his teeth were perfectly square bar his canines, gleaming in a way that made me self-conscious.

“Nathanael?” I said, a hint of hope in my voice.

“Hello, love,” he replied, his British accent warm and inviting. He pulled me into his tall, lean frame, and I inhaled the scent of him — something akin to a chimney. “We almost match,” he said, teasingly grasping the collar of my jacket. A flutter of warmth spread through me, and I laughed, momentarily speechless.

After ordering my boba, I suggested we play the games tucked under the tables. “I just won fourth place at my family’s Christmas poker tournament,” I said proudly, shuffling the deck.

“Fourth?” he raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Yes, fourth,” I confirmed, nodding with a mix of pride and embarrassment. He congratulated me, his amusement evident, and let me teach him blackjack while we waited.

We flirted and exchanged charged glances between rounds. After I beat him three times, we moved outside so he could smoke, the night air sharp against our skin.

The walk back to his apartment was short, and I couldn’t seem to stop laughing. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was funny or because I liked him — maybe both. Stopping in front of his building, he asked what I wanted to do. It was already 11 p.m. It should have been more difficult for me to answer.

“I thought we were going inside,” I said.

For the next five months, we had a casual arrangement that was as exhilarating as it was confusing. I found myself analyzing him often. I theorized that he learned the art of conversation through music. As for his talent for seduction, I think it was a blend of deep-seated insecurities and the kind of charm that comes with being a former rock star.

To say I was drawn to him would be an understatement. I was fascinated by his resilience, fueled by a diet of cigarettes and Coke Zero. How had he not cracked? But it was his intensity, paired with a surprising kindness, that truly captivated me.

I had always been kind, but I wore it plainly. In Nathan’s presence, my austerity felt obvious and anything but cool. I imagined the type of girl he would fall for: someone who could dye her hair any color and still look effortlessly stunning, turning heads wherever she went. When she smiled at him, utterly smitten, all the men in the room would swoon with envy. She thrived on love, effortlessly embedding herself into his life, making it hard to remember how they’d even started dating to begin with. And then, inevitably, it would all come undone, leaving him in the wreckage, as if she were a tornado sweeping through the Midwest.

I was a 6 at best, a little chubby, highly sensitive and riddled with social anxiety. I have an aversion to relationships and monogamy because I don’t believe you can truly depend on anyone. I hate sleeping in other people’s beds and can’t fathom spending all day with a man without developing at least one repulsion to him. I’ve never been an object of envy because the last place I’d be is out somewhere other men could see me, especially that cool party last Saturday night or at Barney’s Beanery … ever. Most important, my intensity was that of a soft breeze.

I knew our casual arrangement would never graduate to more. Yet, despite this, the longest I could go without responding to him was a day.

Five months in, I found myself on the floor, surrounded by the shattered remains of the porcelain ashtray I’d bought him. He’d mentioned moving to a new apartment, so I had purchased it for him as a housewarming gift, hoping to bring a touch of beauty to the ritual of his favorite companion. But then he didn’t text me for an entire month. In a fit of tears, I smashed it, cutting my hands on the porcelain shards.

Amid the broken pieces of my thoughtful gift, revelations began to surface. I remembered a night when Nathan asked, “Why do women get so mad at me when I won’t sleep with them?”

I replied, “Because rejection hurts.”

Even as his casual mention of female attention stung, my answer felt insightful. Rejection is personal; it cuts deep.

It seems trivial to compare rejection to real loss, but it can be just that — the loss of something you never really had. It breeds a unique kind of shame, the ache of wanting someone who doesn’t want you back.

I realized I’d never felt truly accepted by Nathan. I kept returning, hoping he could alleviate the rejection I didn’t even recognize. The truth is, I was the only one who could do that by allowing that feeling to exist, alongside myriad other emotions inside me.

And it got better. I learned that fixating on what I wasn’t only led to misery. When I decided to move on, I broke that cycle of negative thoughts. I didn’t consciously seek out the things I liked about myself, but they emerged naturally to my surprise, as I resumed life again.

The author is a somewhat new resident to L.A., specifically West Hollywood. She loves L.A. and feels grateful to live in such a diverse and vibrant city. Outside of work, she likes to document her experiences through short stories and essays. To keep updated on more of her work, see her Instagram @lyssacady or @thenaughtypoet on Wattpad.

L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.