Reading, Writing, No Arithmetic

Once upon a time, there was a girl that read romance novels like chocoholics eat Godiva’s. She read and read and read, sometimes devouring 2-3 books in a day. Off and on, she’d get stuck in a rut and read nothing but Regency romances (both traditional and full of teh sexxin’z). One day, she picked up some books from work on a whim, and one of them happened to be Teresa Medeiros’s A Kiss to Remember. Our heroine sat down and read it around work time, sleep time, and such, only to remember that she already had a copy of it somewhere and was less than enraptured with it both times that she had consumed said guilty pleasure.

To put it bluntly: you can tell that A Kiss to Remember was written on a deadline. It has no heart, no soul, no real wit. The most engaging character is the murderous little Lottie, who would be awesome if she didn’t suddenly go on the straight and narrow. Hell, to be honest, I was more interested in why Lottie was so obsessed with murder, poison, etc., than I was whether or not the Duke and Duchess of Devonbrooke got their jollies or their damnable heir(s).

All of this is quite sad to me because I love Teresa Medeiros’s writing style and infusion of wit in her books. This one, however, is a party I just can’t get behind. It’s too much like everything else, absent the brilliant originality I usually associate with her work.

Someone pass the Alka-Seltzer, please?

She lives!

Lately, I’ve been sinking my teeth into books by A. Lee Martinez and Nora Roberts. (One of my co-workers gave me a bag full of Nora Roberts and Danielle Steel, and even though they aren’t exactly to my taste, it’s not like I have endless money to throw around on securing new books.) Monster and Gil’s All-Fright Diner by A. Lee Martinez get two very enthusiastic thumbs up from me. I’m also dying for the release of Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters, and since last we met, I’ve devoured the remaining couple of Jacqueline Carey’s books that I hadn’t managed to finish. I love her to pieces and I totally don’t mind doing anything to support her writing more books.

On my own writing front, I’m approximately 26,000 words into the initial first draft of what I’m lovingly calling Four Bitches and a Funeral; a story of four sisters and how their relationship changes after their father dies. (Oh shut up. It’s not a total chick story.)

And now I must away to my “real life”.

No, seriously, Smart Bitches rule the world. *cough* Margaret Thatcher, anybody? */cough*

In this case, I’m referring to Sarah Wendell and Candy Tan of smartbitchestrashybooks.com. Their book, Beyond Heaving Bosoms: The Smart Bitches’ Guide to Romance Novels, hit shelves less than 2 weeks ago, and through much pain, I secured my copy and have poured over it with glee.

Let me put it this way: if all genre guides were this funny and insightful at the same time, more people would give a crap. The Bitches leave no stones unturned in dismantling and beating the crap out of all of the common romance novel stereotypes/cliches (seekrit babiez, simultaneous orgasms, mullets & man-titty, raep forced seduction, etc.), and making us laugh at them and ourselves in the process.

There are statements of literary minds as to why we identify with certain plotlines, as well as mockeries of the irresistible Magical Hoo Hoo and the Wang of Mighty Lovin’, and everything inbetween.

I was particularly enamoured with the language of critical distinction: about the only thing that didn’t arrive in a timely manner was usage of the term “fucknuts”. My favorite parts were the “choose your own romance” and “write your own romance novel using these convenient stereotypical plotlines of do00m!!!1!”, because, damn it, I was laughing my ass off. I think I lost five pounds just from all the laughter; laughter is not only the best medicine: it’s also fucking great exercise!

The verdict: if you don’t buy this book, or at least borrow it from the library for the chapter on cover snark and man-titty, you’re an idiot.

So, I saw a review of Instant Attraction by Jill Shalvis over on Smart Bitches, Trashy Books, and I acquired a copy at ye olde local Borders. It took me a couple of days to actually start reading the book because the first chapter made me want to carry the book back to the store and return it.

The official description of the book is thus:

Accountant Katie Kramer is a quintessential good girl – working hard, recycling diligently, all the while trying to ignore the feeling that she doesn’t fit in anywhere. That’s all she wants. Well, that – and amazing sex, and the kind of daredevil escapade she can look back on when she’s crunching numbers in a dusty cubicle. Which explains why she just took a job in Wishful, California, working for Wilder Adventures and Expeditions. Waking up to find a magnificently built stranger towering over her bed – that part defies explanation…After wandering the planet for months following a life-changing accident, Cameron Wilder has come back to the only home he knows. Under other circumstances, he might be thrilled to find a gorgeous woman sleeping in his cabin, but now, while he’ll risk his body taking clients on adrenaline-drenched excursions, his heart is off limits. Still, Katie’s killer smile triggers something deep in his gut…among other places. Showing her how exhilarating it can be to stop balancing her life as if it was a check book is the biggest rush he’s ever felt – and an adventure Katie’s wishing would never end…

…okay, then. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s get to the meat of the matter. Katie is traumatized by an accident where she was the only survivor of a collapsed bridge. She thinks that living life to its fullest is going to be her only chance of making a difference, so she’s doing all this crazy stuff she’s never done before and “overcoming” and “dealing with” her panic and so on. Cam is also dealing with accident fallout, except his accident was the result of his own stupidity and not paying fucking attention when careening down a fucking snow-covered cliff.

(Can you tell I don’t connect with these characters at all?)

The story is well and good enough (boy meets girl, boy screws girl, they fight, etc., get together in the end…), the grammatics and composition are good enough, but I just could not get into the story. And, then at the end, Katie walks into her apartment to find Cam naked in her bed.

Am I supposed to believe that she wouldn’t be calling the cops and have him frisked for her missing keys? Because, really, that’s just… no. Do not want. It’s not romantic at all to have your privacy invaded by someone — god forbid there’s an explanation in the story of how he got into the bed in the first place.

All in all: okay book, not my cuppa, and crazy!stalker!Cam! needs to go away before he starts to sparkle like Edward Cullen. (Eeeeew.)