Alert: Immediate Change in This Blog’s Focus and Pace

Jul 8

Posted by Jessica in Blogs and blogging, Navel gazing

I’ve just looked at my calendar and had a small heart attack. My blog, and your blogs, and Twitter, have become my favorite procrastination tools. But now I need to get something done.

The good news is that much of what I need to do, I can share with you all. In the fall, I’m teaching ethical theory, ethics and fiction, and a grad level feminist theory, and I’m also working on a couple of writing projects that have relevance to romance.

I thought about changing the name of this blog, or starting a new blog, but instead I’ll just expand the “About” widget or make this a sticky post to warn anyone looking for fun to escape while they still can. I’m not going to worry about how long or tedious these posts are. Sorry. But just think, my students pay to suffer through this stuff!!

Here are the likely topics, not in order:

  • Sadism in ethics and erotic fiction
  • Professionalism and practice in reviewing
  • The difference between judgment and taste
  • Objectivity in aesthetic values
  • Objectivity in ethics
  • Ethical criticism of literature (probably more than one post)
  • The paradox of fiction
  • The ethics of reading
  • Free will — what it is and why it matters to ethics
  • Biomedical themes in the Sookie Stackhouse series
  • The ethical status of pseudonyms in fiction
  • Gendering the morality of fiction
  • What is an emotion?
  • Ethics in memoir writing

Posts on these topics will take a lot longer to write, so instead of my average of 4 posts a week, I may well be down to 1 or 2

I will still do other posts when I can. Tumperkin and I plan to do a joint review of Meredith Duran’s latest when she gets back from holiday.

Finally, anyone who sticks it out until the end gets a blog banner that reads “I Survived the Amazing Intellectual Journey of Summer 2009!” (kidding!)

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20 Comments

A Brief Reflection on the Nora Roberts article in the New Yorker

Jul 6

Posted by Jessica in Genre musings

On Sunday I was sitting in the movie theater watching the wonderful Star Trek for the second time, and I was thinking about the science in sci fi movies. McCoy says something like, “if we crash, our blood will boil in 12 seconds.” This is wrong, and a lot of the “science” in Star Trek is wrong. Not just over simplified, but dead wrong. The same is true of many “historical” movies, regardless of the time period, from 300 to Braveheart.

I was thinking about the purpose of these pop cultural products, which is not to convey scientific or historical truths, but to entertain, often by hitting certain emotional buzzers. I’m not a die hard Trekkie by any means, nor am I generally bloodthirsty, but I let out a whoop with everyone in the audience when Kirk said to the Romulan who is holding him over a cliff by his neck, “I’ve got your gun” and blows him to smithereens.

Romance gets criticized for its fantasy elements, and for its reliance on emotional triggers to entertain (that there is a perfect person in the world for each of us who will love us unconditionally, that love is everlasting, that the HEA solves all problems, the sexual fantasies), while we overlook or indeed praise the very same elements in other pop genres, like historical or sci fi films. I’m not the first person to say that it must be the content, especially the feminine content, which seems to invite derision. When women produce cultural content that is not gender coded feminine, even if the majority of their readers are women, they do get more respect. I’m thinking of authors like JK Rowling and Charlaine Harris.

I subscribe to The New Yorker (you get a lifetime subscription when you get your PhD in the humanities. It’s a secret bonus few know about.) and I cannot recall once in the ten years I’ve been getting it, a review of a Nora Roberts novel — or indeed any romance. I checked The New Yorker online database and again found no critical notice of any of Roberts’ books (I could be wrong here. Correct me if so.). Yet, they did a very long Profiles article on Roberts in June (you need a subscription to read it). It’s odd that a magazine which has never seen fit to review any of Roberts’ hundreds of books wanted to devote so much space to her career as an author.  Then I read the article, and, like most articles about romance in literary venues, it engages more with her lifestyle and number of books sold — the “La Nora Phenomenon” — than her craft.

But Collins does point to strengths in Roberts’ writing, which is what made it truly shocking to this long time New Yorker reader.

EDITED TO ADD: Like here,

“Smark-alecks [like NR] make bad pupils but excellent students of human nature. Roberts is good at what she does not only because she is prolific but also because she can write zingy dialogue and portray scrappy but sincere characters”

“She is known for particularly believable heroes…”

“Her female characters frequently possess an entrepreneurial streak, and they are more independent than many of their peers, and certainly of their predecessors, even if some among them still have a propensity for crumpling like tissues at the sight of bodily fluids.”

“Roberts’ colloquial style can be inelegant, but it deflates the more vaporous of her scenes.”

“A self-taught writer, and an irreverent one…”

“Reading a Roberts novel is like watching a game of tennis between two very good players: it is not so much the outcome of the match but the back-and-forth between commensurate opponents that elicits the spectator’s pleasure.”

“When Roberts writes a book, she assembles a community piece by piece, a train-set village of her own invention.”

“Roberts would have made a keen satirist, were she not without condescension, or cruelty.”

“Hers are not Carrie Bradshaw fantasies.”

“Like campfire stories, Roberts’ books rely on verve and familiarity rather than on any particular polish or originality.”

“Roberts may be the most intuitive writer since Noel (Hot Lead) Loomis, who wrote several dozen Westerns straight onto a Linotype machine he kept in his house.”

“Roberts’s influences are myriad, and mostly popular.”

“Roberts’ writing, by her own estimation, had improved markedly since her early novels, which feature a lot of passive constructions and thesaurus words.”

“Compared with Nora Roberts, J. D. Robb is slightly more staccato and noirish, but Roberts says the voices are essentially the same. In both incarnations, she is spare, catchy and impressionistic. Her sentences are often clipped and she has a habit of turning nouns into verbs (’two canine forms bulletted out’ the door). Her figurative language can be clever (’Dobby’s face reminded Cilla of a piece of thin brown paper that had been balled tight, then carelessly smoothed out’) or it can be clumsy (’They meshed like butter on popcorn, both lively and entertaining.’).

“Almost everyone I spoke with praised Roberts’ storytelling, her incantatory ability to engage the reader. ‘Storytelling’ also suggests a quasi-extemporaneous quality, the privileging of the thrust of the narrative over its details, and while Roberts’s narratives have momentum, they are not always painstakingly crafted”

“Another pitfall, when you’ve written almost 200 books, is repetitiveness.”

“The spunky-heroine voice that Roberts favors is winning, but it can seem like a fallback. … At other times, her characters … seem to hail from the Nixon era.”

“There is a kitchen-table quality to sex in romance novels which distinguishes them from pornography. … Fine, strapping fellows as the men are, they might not always be recognized by their human counterparts.”

“In Roberts’ early books, the sex could be rough and spastic.”

“The hallmark of Roberts’ sex scenes is narrative continuity — the hero and the heroine sleep together, and they don’t suddenly turn into wildly different people.”

The New Yorker reviews lots of popular films (and anyone who thinks snark in romance reviews makes them different from “professional” reviews has clearly never read Anthony Lane) and popular music (Sasha Frere-Jones regularly reviews such popular musicians as Kelly Clarkson and Lady Gaga). Heck, in this week’s issue there’s a story about a “dry cleaner to the stars”. It hit me as I was sitting in the theater watching Star Trek, a movie The New Yorker reviewed, glowingly, that this isn’t a divide between different publications. It’s a divide within the very same magazine. If the magazine can review the gamut of films, from Bergman retrospectives to the latest Judd Apatow and Ben Stiller, and the gamut of music, from Wagner to Madonna, and if it can recognize, in its Profiles section, that a romance novelist has real writing talent, then why isn’t there space to review a wider range of fiction?

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34 Comments

Review: Ain’t She Sweet, by Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Jul 3

Posted by Jessica in reviews

My Take in Brief: I loved this book. But I can’t believe it’s an SEP.

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Setting: Contemporary small town Parrish, Mississippi

Heroine and Hero: Sugar Beth Carey, blonde knockout, former wealthy queen of the mean girls, returning home divorced, widowed, and poor, but much wiser and more humble. Colin Byrne, aristocratic (i.e. silk pj wearing, tall and big nosed) British born writer, has made a successful career writing a nonfiction chronicle of Parish life. Both in their 30s.

Plot: There’s a lot going on in this book, so much it veers towards women’s fiction. Sugar Beth, in dire need of funds, has returned to Parrish to retrieve a valuable painting from the cottage her aunt has left to her. Colin, who now resides in the manor home Sugar Beth grew up in (on the same property as the cottage), plans to take revenge on the woman who once ruined his teaching career by falsely accusing him of sexual harassment. At the same time, Sugar Beth’s return exposes fault lines in the marriage of Winnie, Sugar Beth’s estranged half sister, and Ryan, the high school boyfriend Sugar Beth jilted, and creates drama and excitement for the rest of Sugar Beth’s old gang, still known as the Sea Willows.

Conflict: In the first part of the book, the conflict between Colin and Sugar Beth is that he hates her. Later, the conflict is that Sugar Beth, thrice married, has no wish to fall in love again. The two other significant conflicts involve decades old resentment and anger between Sugar Beth and Winnie, the latter of whom is the product of Sugar Beth’s father’s long time affair with Winnie’s mother, and a deep festering undiscussed “open” secret in Winnie and Ryan’s marriage.

Word on the Web:

The Romance Reader: 4 hearts

Musings of a Bilbiophile (Brie), B

Flight Into Fantasy, Shannon C., “highly recommended”

Racy Romance Review:

I have a very complicated reader relationship with SEP. I know this is romance reader sacrilege, but I truly hate her caveman jock heroes — Dan Calebow of It Had to Be You,  Bobby Tom of Heaven, Texas, and Cal of Nobody’s Baby But Mine, although I enjoyed parts of all of those books.  I strongly prefer her other types of heroes — Gabe of Dream a Little Dream, Ren of Breathing Room, even Heath of Match Me If You Can (a book which featured one of the only less-than-spectacular-to-them first sex scene b/t the h/h that I can recall reading) This despite the fact that the latter male characters and the books themselves were not necessarily as memorable and strong. It’s a case of my political and aesthetic tastes at war, I guess.

In Ain’t She Sweet?, we are introduced to an SEP classic — a  bedraggled, down on her luck, but still beautiful heroine, who uses her sexuality like a shield and a weapon, returning to her home town, tail between her legs. But I couldn’t believe it when I opened Ain’t She Sweet? to find a writer hero with an exquisite design sense who “had the face of a dandy, vaguely effete”,  wearing a purple velvet smoking jacket over black silk i pajamas. WTF? Not to worry — SEP later signals his masculinity by giving him big workman hands and a bricklaying past and the world tilted back on its axis again. Still, I was thrilled with Colin, even if he wasn’t as fully developed as I would have liked (a subplot involving his writer’s block was more of a chance for Sugar Beth to demonstrate her empathy and womanly nurturing than providing true insight into his character). It felt so good to be reading an SEP without having to gargle frequently with my limited edition Votes for Women Mouthwash that I let that slide.

Anyone who has read an SEP knows she can write dialogue, especially witty banter, with the best of them. Colin is an unusually urbane and verbal hero, so we get a lot of it in this book. In order to make her pay for the lies she told as a teen which sent Colin back to England in disgrace, he gets Sugar Beth — once the richest girl in town –  to work as his housekeeper, in the very home where she was raised. But she is single mindedly fixed on the goal of finding the missing painting and refuses to let a little degradation distract her. Here’s an example. Sugar Beth is preparing for a dinner party Colin has planned (little does she know he intends to make her squirm by inviting half the town. Lighter shades To Have and To Hold):

Sugar Beth: “…make sure you take the cost of that pitcher out of his check when you pay him tonight.”

Colin: “I’ll do that.” The caterer had probably broken the pitcher because he was staring down her blouse.

“No, you won’t. Except for me, you’re Mr. Big Spender. Even with that incompetent West Coast weasel of a caterer.”

“Such prejudice from someone who once lived in California herself.”

“Well, sure, but I was drunk most of the time.”

He caught his smile just in time. He wouldn’t give in to that seductive charm. Her self-deprecating sense of humor was anothr manipulation, her way of making sure no one else threw the first punch.

“Is that all?”

She eyed his dark trousers and long sleeved grape colored shirt. “If only I hadn’t sent your dueling pistols to the cleaners.”

He’d promised himself he’s stop sparring with her, but the words came out anyway. “At least I still have my riding crop. Just the thing, I’ve heard for disciplining an unruly servant.”

I also loved Sugar Beth. She was smart, funny, and strong. SEP doesn’t minimize her awfulness as a teen, but helps us to understand how it arose. I confess I had to work extra hard to work hard to suspend my disbelief at the idea that a town leader in the conservative rural South would have a second, private, family a few miles down the road from his public one, and that everyone, including his lawful wife, would look the other way, but SEP made it work. Most of her character journey took place prior to the events in the novel, when she had two unsuccessful marriages (which involved abuse, infidelity and alcoholism) finally finding the kind of paternal love she had always been denied in her brief third marriage to a wealthy man decades her senior, who died penniless. The work Sugar Beth has to do is less on her own character in isolation than on the relationships she left behind — with individuals, like her half sister Winnie, but also with Frenchman’s Bride itself, and indeed with the town of Parrish. In some ways, Colin, who owns Frenchman’s Bride and has close relationships with many of the people Sugar Beth hurt and left behind, and who himself was hurt by her, represents this work of restoration and forgiving. I thought it was ingenious.

Some reviewers felt that after 15 years, the old high school chums (nauseatingly, still traveling in a pack called “the Sea Willows”) should have put Sugar Beth’s sins behind them, which were, after all, many of their own sins. I can see that point. On the other hand, high school is a very vulnerable time, when everything emotional is magnified 100 times. If you are still living in your old home town and dealing with the same people, it can be easy to hold on to the past.

Winnie in particular comes up for a lot of reader criticism, and I agree that she was stunted and also given a free pass by the author for what I consider a sin worse than most of Sugar Beth’s. Winnie got her husband on the rebound from the larger than life Sugar Beth, and has never quite gotten over being second to her glamorous half sister. I liked the way SEP shows us a marriage which is functioning despite a rather large elephant in the room. She didn’t have the space to fully develop Winnie and Ryan’s overcoming their problems, but I was glad to see a long time married couple get some air time, something SEP does in other books (In Nobody’s Baby But Mine and Breathing Room, for example).

The small town southern setting was really well done, and this is not something I usually associate with SEP. Seeing the town through Sugar Beth’s eyes, past and present, was one of the most compelling parts of the novel.

Despite his lack of character development, the romance between Colin and Sugar Beth was mature, and sexy, and fun, and quite satisfying (especially effective was the party scene when he realizes he has gone too far and begins to sympathize with her), but I read this one for Sugar Beth. She is by far my favorite SEP heroine. She’s downtrodden without being totally abject (like Rachel in Dream a Little Dream or the pathetic heroine in Heaven, Texas), she has a knowing sexuality and no fear of using her looks, without sending the message that a woman’s allure to men is her only ticket to success and happiness (like the “bimbo empowerment” heroine in It Had to Be You). I’ll have to reread Dream a Little Dream to be sure, but I think it’s my favorite book by this author.

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11 Comments

Do you REALLY Heart Harlequin Presents? Test your love with this quiz

Jun 30

Posted by Jessica in Genre musings

See how well you know your Harlequin Presents/Silhouette Desires:

1. Our hero is a billionaire tycoon, running a multinational corporation. How much time does he actually spend working?

a. His picture is next to “workaholic” in the dictionary

b. He tries to keep it under 80 a week, to leave time for charm and elegance.

c. Absolutely none.

2. In what way is our hero least likely to show his frustration?

a. Run a hand through his hair.

b. Clench his jaw.

c. Nibble on his fingernails.

3. Our hero’s lips are least likely to be what?

a. Hard and sensual

b. Mocking

c. Covered in Cheeto crumbs.

4. Our heroine’s attitude towards marriage is least likely to be which of the following:

a. She will never allow herself to be dependent on a man! Never!!

b. She must get married immediately! Like, right now!!

c. Sure, someday, if she meets the right guy.

5. The hero touches the heroine’s arm as he shows her through a doorway. Her physiological response is most likely which of the following?

a. Nothing. She barely notices.

b. It tickles a little, so she scratches it.

c. Sweat, heart palpitations, dizziness. Please call the paramedics.*

*Spontaneous combustion if skin is bare. Call fire department.

6. What is our hero’s attitude towards other women least likely to be?

a. Some of them — his mother, baby sister and geriatric secretary, to be exact — are wonderful.

b. Most of them — especially his lovers past and present, and indeed any woman not mentioned in (a) — are scheming superficial bitches.

c. He doesn’t have an attitude “towards women”. He judges people individually.

7. Which method for luring the hero to bed is most likely to be successful?

a. Candlelight dinner, mood music, sexy lingerie.

b. Talk to another man.

c. Tell him in insulting terms that you do not want to have sex with him. Extra points for physical punctuation mark, such as a slap.

8. Our hero is not an American. From which country is he least likely to hail?

a. Greece, Italy or Spain

b. An exotic Sheikdom

c. Any former member of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

9. English is not our hero’s first language (see question 8). When does he speak his native tongue?

a. All of the time. (Our heroine has a translator app on her iPhone)

b. Most of the time, but uses English when heroine needs taming.

c. Never, with the key exceptions of one term of endearment and one minor swear, both used over and over. (Example: Greek –Agape mou/Theos! Italian: Bella mia/Dio! Spanish: Querida/Por Dios!)

Warning: the following questions are “adult rated”.

(I am sorry to be explicit, but we must be thorough to get accurate results.)

10. Which best describes our heroine’s vagina?

a. Her vagine hang like a wizard’s sleeve, as Borat would say.

b. Hot, wet and tight.

c. No one knows. It has never been viewed or penetrated by any mortal being, save perhaps her gynecologist.

11. How often does our hero sport wood?

a. Rarely. Work is stressing him out and his wonderful geriatric secretary forgot to refill his Viagra prescription.

b. Whenever he is nekkid with the heroine.

c. Every time he sees, hears, smells, touches, or thinks of the heroine. That is to say, all of the time, except for the required grace period of 60 seconds after each ejaculation.

Scoring:

Give yourself 1 point for each (a) answer, 2 points for each (b) answer, and 3 points for each (c) answer.

0-13: You have never read a romance novel in your life. Why are you here?

14-26 points: You can do better. Put down your Jennie Crusies, Ann Aguirres, and Jo Beverlys and pick up the nearest copy of The Secretly Ruthless Italian Gazillionaire Tycoon’s Conveniently Pregnant Virgin Mistress Bride right away.

26 and up: You win! You may now use “heart” as a verb, do things to deserve “punishing” kissess, and fall in love with the next man named Dante who crosses your path!

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REVIEW: The Tycoon’s Rebel Bride, by Maya Banks

Jun 30

Posted by Jessica in reviews

tycoonbride

This is going to be a quick review. Basically, if you like this line and these kinds of stories, you will probably like this one.

I don’t pay much attention to covers on the Kindle (ebooks automatically open to page one), and it wasn’t until I finished it that I realized I was not reading a Harlequin Presents. Twitter friends (thanks @Mcvane, @BevBB, @Young Librarian, and @Jane_l!) informed me that Presents is the more international line, Desire more domestic (US), so I am guessing this one, which, while set in New York, has a Greek hero and some quality time spent in Greece, is a bit of an odd duck (?).

It’s the second in Banks’ trilogy about three Greek hotel tycoons. In this one, Theron comes to NYC to manage one of his hotels, and finds himself informal guardian of the daughter of an old family friend. Theron barely remembers Isabella, until she saunters into his office, aged 23 with the bod to prove it, all alluring tramp stamps and piercings and bare midriff.

Given that Theron wants very much to settle down, given that Isabella has been in love with him (I was never sure why. She has only met him a few times, and he has two equally commanding, rich and good looking brothers, after all) since her training bra days, and given that they are incredibly hot for one another, why isn’t this a two paragraph book?

Well, Theron thinks he should be more of a father figure and less of a mack daddy to Isabella, and he’s already chosen Alannis, a nice Greek girl back home, for an arranged marriage. For her part, Isabella is too chicken to tell Theron the slightly stalkerish truth (Her entire life, including the move to NYC, is oriented around getting him to the alter. She has no job, no plans, and nothing else to live for. Considering Isabella’s singleminded pursuit, the fact that “Theron” means “hunter” is a bit ironic.), and she believes his pre-engagement to Alannis is the real deal.

What I liked about this is the forwardness of Isabella. She’s a virgin, of course, and her one and only goal in life is marriage, but at least she’s the aggressor in the relationship, leaving Theron a bit befuddled and off balance (When I say “aggressor”, you have to read it in context: she’s never forthright about what she wants. It’s manipulative feminine wiles all the way) . She often mocks him for his old fashioned notions of women and sexuality (while conforming to them completely, of course). He’s more likable and less awful than so many of these Greek tycoons tend to be. And the resolution of the Alannis situation does not require turning her into a hellish shrew, for which I was grateful.

Of course, the plot is entirely predictable, beyond the mere certainty of an HEA, as these categories so often are (for example, the minute we discover Isabella has a stripper friend, we know Isabella will be working the pole, that Theron will see her, and that his anger will push him over the sexual edge).

I’m attracted to category romance because they are short and cheap, but I find them so dicey.  This one was a bit better than average, but whether that’s high praise will depend on your point of view.

The best thing about it for me, was that it inspired me to make up a quiz, which you can take in the next post.

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5 Comments

Review: Strange Bedpersons, by Jennifer Crusie

Jun 29

Posted by Jessica in reviews

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My Take in Brief: Only recommended for anal retentive Jenny Crusie fans, and then only for the completionist satisfaction.

Heroine and Hero: Tess is a hippie do-gooder. Nick is an ambitious yuppie lawyer.

Conflict: See heroine and hero, above.

Plot: To make partner, Nick needs to appear “settled”, so he needs a date for a weekend affair at a rich conservative writer’s country home. Naturally, he chooses his outspoken, Republican-baiting, commune-bred ex-girlfriend with whom he constantly bickers to make a good impression. There’s a subplot involving plagiarism that is even more stupid, another one that makes a depressing case for Churchill’s famous claim about maturity requiring conservatism, and a secondary romance between, essentially, Richie Rich and Pinky Tuscadero* that allows the author to deploy every cliché in her terrifyingly large arsenal (*showing my age, I know. If Pinky rings no bells for you, think Marisa Tomei in My Cousin Vinny)

Word on the Web:

Mrs. Giggles, 74

AAR, Colleen M.,  A

Laurie Gold, C-

Bookish Reviews, B+

Trashionista, 4 out of 5

For fun: Dear Author’s “If you like” on Jennifer Crusie

Racy Romance Review:

SB was originally published as a Silhouette in 1994, and reissued in paper in 2003 and then again in January 2009 in library edition hardcover with a cutesy cover you could use in place of Ipecac if you had to (see below). My Kindle edition was 4 bucks.

200901_strangebedpersons

This was the second book in a row that I began reading and felt as if I started in the middle. When we meet them, Nick and Tess have dated and split up, and he is knocking on her apartment door while she hangs with her EYE-talian friend Gina. Note the wink to romance conventions with the use of “grovel”:

Nick knocked again. “Tess? You want me to grovel? I’ll grovel. I’ve got a great grovel. You’ve never seen my grovel; you left before I could show it to you. Come on, Tess, let me in.”

Gina slumped back into the couch and jerked her head toward the door. “If you’re thinking about swapping your bod for money, go answer the door. He’s still loaded, right?”

Tess nodded. “I haven’t checked lately, but knowing Nick and his affinity for money, he’s still loaded.”

“Marry him,” Gina said.

“No,” Tess said.

“Why not?”

“Well, to begin with, he hasn’t asked me,” Tess said. “And he’s a Republican lawyer, so my mother would disown me. And then . . . ” Tess frowned as if in serious thought. “I always thought it would be a good idea to marry somebody who wouldn’t try to pick up the maid of honor at the reception. Call me crazy but –”

“Since that would be me, you got no worries,” Gina said. “Marry him.”

“You don’t know Nick,” Tess said. “He could seduce Mother Teresa.” She cocked her head toward the door and listened for a moment. “And it doesn’t seem to be an option anymore anyway. I think he got tired and left.”

She tried hard not to be disappointed. After all, she’d had no intention of opening the door anyway.

Still, it wasn’t like Nick to give up that fast, dangerous hallway or not. He must not have missed her that much after all.

Damn.

There are so many things I love about Jenny Crusie’s writing of romance. I love the humor and wit, of course, and the sexual tension, and the characterization. Politically, I love the egalitarianism, the liberalism, the positive construction of femininity and masculinity. When people ask me how I can teach and write feminist theory and still read romance, Crusie is one of the first authors who comes to mind. (Tess, rather than being a statuesque blonde, is Crusie’s trademark “warm and round”. And she has short red hair.)

But no amount of political affinity in the world will make me like a book if I cannot like the leads and cannot figure out why they do the stupid things they do. And besides that, this is the rare Crusie in which it feels like the heroine is one of those category cardboard liberals, whose “ideals” are so many strawmen, just waiting for a hero with a blowtorch.

Tess says, “Life is more than great sex and a nice car”, and when her friend Gina replies “Not much more”, you can be sure we are supposed to agree with Gina. Tess eventually does: in the end, she basically abandons her objections to Nick’s large income and larger home in return for a coat of colorful paint.

Crusie’s heroines often walk the line between being strong and being bitches, and Tess definitely goes over to the bitch side. For example, her comment in the above quotation regarding the groom seducing the bridesmaid has no basis in Nick’s character (he’s true blue). When even the hero describes her as “tactless and undignified” you know you have a piece of work on your hands. She dumps Nick because he refused to have sex with her in a public parking lot. Equally irrationally, Tess decides to try to get a job at a posh private school (which, conveniently for the author, puts her in the path of Nick’s rich clients) and has no problem using old boy nepotism –  normally one of the main targets of true liberals — to do so.

Nick is underdeveloped, and, like Tess, he is a cardboard figure: he’s not ambitious for “bad” reasons: no, he’s making up for a financially precarious childhood.

There are some interesting, but unexplored, themes about the purpose of literature (the famous writer says to Tess “You’re probably one of those fools who thinks literature should be life-affirming”) and about whether it’s better to be Dr. Jeckyll or Mr. Hyde (naturally, Tess prefers Hyde because he’s “unpredictable”. I bet he would have done her in the parking lot!). But not enough to save the day from the impossibly retrograde premise (that a lawyer in 1994 must be “settled down” to make partner) or silly plagiarism subplot (Tess thinks the hippie who told her a story 30 years ago has copyright on it) with a highly improbable “twist” you can see coming a mile away.

Is this book worse than the average category? No, of course not. But I grade on a curve and the curve is not kind to authors who have written some of my favorite romances. Since this is a very early Crusie, there is some historical interest in seeing the germs for later ideas.

One thing that really bugs the shit out of me interests me about the romance genre is the way American wealth is characterized. In this book, as in so many others I have read, the wealthy — but not the middle and working classes — are highly conscious of propriety, of manners, of protocol, of mores. And yet, on the other hand, you have them rudely insulting the heroine, for example, at the dinner table. In my experience, the wealthy are not more personally conservative than other classes. If anything, less so. On the other hand, having once been, like Gina, the Italian girfriend from the wrong side of the tracks, outright insults to invited guests would not occur. There’s no need.

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12 Comments

Review: A Most Unsuitable Man, by Jo Beverley

Jun 28

Posted by Jessica in reviews

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Series?: Yes, published in 2005, this is the 7th Malloren (noble family in Georgian England) book. If I had a do over, I would have read its predecessor, Winter Fire, first, since the action in AMUM follows events and characters in Winter Fire so closely.

Setting: The Georgian (1763) setting is very refreshing, especially the importance of country estates, which provides a lot of time with a small group of people, something I happen to enjoy. Beverley talks about the importance of the country estate to the era here.

Hero and Heroine: Mr. Octavius Fitzroger is a penniless friend of the Marquess of Ashart, whom Damaris Myddleton — a “pirate’s daughter” and heiress in search of a titled husband who can provide her entree into the nobility — had hoped to marry. He’s honorable, though haunted by past scandal, and modest. She’s forthright, impulsive, and, at first, superficial.

Conflict: Damaris wants to marry a nobleman, and Fitzroger knows he isn’t good enough for her.

Fun Factoids: The cover won the two image contest at Cover Cafe in 2005, and AMUM was a RITA finalist in long historical (losing out to Liz Carlyle’s The Devil To Pay)

Word on the Web:

Dear Author, Jayne, B-

I love the world of the Mallorens. 18th century England, with the flamboyently dressed men and women, the age of reason, inventions, wigs, power and wealth. I like how your titled men in this series don’t go around spying for England but rather act as Marquesses and Earls of the age would have. They stay in England, they take care of their dependents, they go to court and hold public levees and try to influence the King. No smugglers, no spies, or anything of the sort. They are considerate of their servants but aren’t out marching for servants rights or allowing them to call their betters by first names. They have immense power and by gosh, they act like it.

The Romance Reader, 5 hearts

Mrs. Giggles, 63

Much has been said about Ms Beverley’s supposed exquisite skill in characterization and plot but A Most Unsuitable Man is a flimsy story with underdeveloped conflicts, tedious martyr blues, and an ensemble cast of secondary characters who are interchangeable because they are uniformly perfect.

Rakehell, Cheryl Sneed, positive

AAR, B

Audionote: I listened to this on audio. It’s about 12 hours, unabridged, narrated by the wonderful Jenny Sterlin.

Racy Romance Review:

So much happens in the opening scene of this book, to characters I felt like I was supposed to know already, that I was sure I had accidentally started playback in the middle of the recording. This made for a confusing, but very exciting start to what turned out to be a very enjoyable listen.

This is the story of the “other woman” from the previous Malloren book, Winter Fire. As it opens, Damaris Myddleton’s hopes for a union with the Marquess of Ashart are publicly dashed when he announces his engagement to someone else at the Rothgar Abbey Christmastide gathering. In embarrassment, she tries to flee, only to be detained and convinced to stay by Ashart’s friend, the barely dressed Mr. Fitzroger, who has caught up with her on horseback. This was an incredibly gripping opening.

As the story unfolds, Damaris grows out of her desire for a titled husband and falls in love with the entirely inappropriate Fitz. This happens slowly and maturely while other things — namely an apparent assassination plot against Ashart, whose family history may be more dangerously complicated than anyone realized –  are also going on. Since Fitz is Ashart’s bodyguard — a fact which is revealed to the reader, but not to Damaris or Ashart, very early on –  Fitz must keep Ashart safe while getting to the bottom of the plot.

It’s a bit jarring to read a Jo Beverley after reading so many other romances in which the hero and heroine are essentially adolescents on Adderal and Viagra. Damaris and Fitz are adults: they are interested in other people and activities besides each other, and while their story is romantic, and while they do give in to passion, they are not obsessed with it to the exclusion of every thing else.  Here’s an example of the forthright conversations they tend to have:

“You want to be a duchess”, he reminded her, unhooking her leg. “One of the grandest ladies in the land.”

But she clung onto his shirt. “I’m not sure I want to be mistress of a grand establishment.”

“Don’t take Cheynings as your model.”

“I’m not. I’m serious Fitz. I want a home. A real home.”

He tore free and left the bed. “You certainly won’t get one from me.”

She raised a hand to hum, tears in her eyes, silently pleading. He took it, but used it to pull her up and off the bed.

“You want to marry a man of title and position, and you should.” He tried to be harsh, but he had to wipe away one trickling tear from her cheek, and he wanted to take her back into his arms and comfort her. “Yes, there’s passion between us, Damaris, but it’s nothing important. If I let it trap you, you’d hate me all your days.”

He began to refasten her robe, but she snatched free and did it herself. “I might not.”

In this book, there’s a bit of a gender reversal, as Damaris is the rich confident one, and Fitz is the one with no prospects and no self-esteem. Damaris has fantasies of giving Fitz gifts and dressing him in finery.  I often despise the “I am not good enough for you” conflict, but in this case, Fitz was right. Damaris’s heart’s desire is to have access to George’s court, and, with the exception of Ashart’s family’s home, the scandal-ridden Fitz is not received anywhere.

There is much going on that I haven’t mentioned. In addition to the unfolding suspense plot, both Fitz and Damaris’s complex family histories are slowly relayed in ways that help move the story forward and help us make sense of their motivations personalities. When added to Ashart’s own genealogical expedition, a major theme of the book is the question of whether it is nature or nurture that make us who we are — to ourselves, and to society.

In looking at other reviews, I know some readers had trouble with Damaris. To be honest, she wasn’t totally likable. She was often superficial, impulsive and selfish, and not in a token way, but in a way that had really bad consequences. But those qualities are the other side of her determination, loyalty and honesty. To me, she was real.

Fitz was less distinct in my mind. A keen wit, a very decent honorable person, but a bit stuck and not a self-starter. I had a hard time believing he was a crack bodyguard.

MILD SPOILERS

How could he not have realized who the assassin’s target was after the cider incident? I figured it out and I had exactly the same information he had. And why was he unable to steal papers from a sleeping old woman without waking her up?

END SPOILERS

I was really impressed with the many plot strands Beverley managed to braid together into one very satisfying tale. With the one exception of Fitz’s enforced secrecy (he couldn’t alert Ashart to the danger he was in, or to his own role in keeping him safe), I never felt anything was forced.

Some romances keep me reading because I am so swept up in a larger than life romance. Others, because the plot grips me. Both the romance and plot worked for me here, but mainly I loved being in the world Beverley created. I just wanted to hang out with the Mallorens, hear them talk, go to a ball, take tea. Do the normal things aristocrats did in the day, as DA Jayne’s review sums up so well.

I can’t believe I hadn’t read a Jo Beverley prior to this one. I will definitely be reading (and listening) to more.

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Vacation

Jun 19

Posted by Jessica in Navel gazing

Starting tomorrow, I’ll be in one of my favorite spots in the world for a week:

2009

Except we are expecting this for the entire time:

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I’ll have wireless, but no plans to post.

In paper, I’m bringing a Kate Noble, a Susan Elizabeth Phillips, a Megan Hart, an Ann Stuart, and a bunch more ebooks on my Kindle.

Hope everyone has a great week!

2 Comments

Joint Review: The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie, by Jennifer Ashley

Jun 19

Posted by Jessica in reviews

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Tumperkin’s Take:

Sometimes, when I’m really enjoying a book, I just race through it.  If I get even five minutes peace, my hand will stray towards it and I’ll fit in however many pages I can.  I’ll gorge and guzzle it; devour it the way you might eat a chocolate bar when you’re hungry.  And sometimes that greediness leaves me with a feeling of regret afterwards, wishing I’d savoured it more even though I know that the regret is misplaced.  Because the compulsion is part of the enjoyment. The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie was such a book for me.  I read it over a couple of days, snatching every chance to pack in a few pages.

TMOLIM is the first in a series of what looks like being four books, focussing on the four Mackenzie brothers, the oldest of whom is the autocratic Hart Mackenzie, the Duke of Kilmorgan.  Ian is the youngest brother at 27 and the hero of the first book.  The brothers have had troubled childhoods: their mother died when they were young and their father was violent and angry.  They are all introduced in this first book and we learn that they each have had difficult histories. There was a fair bit of sequel-baiting but since it did largely fit with Ian’s story, I didn’t object too much.

This is a premise – the pack of siblings, headed up by the uber-alpha big brother – that has become popular in historical fiction lately: Madeline Hunter’s Easterbrook series, Mary Balogh’s Slightly series and Jo Beverley’s Mallorens all use the same model.  Initially, I was slightly put off reading TMOLIM because of this.  However, by the time I reached the end of page 1, all of my reservations had disappeared.  The opening chapter is one of the most arresting and intriguing first chapters I’ve read in a very long time, introducing the character of Ian in a compelling and original way.

Ian is widely believed to be ‘mad’.  Even Ian himself believes this.  The modern reader recognises the condition that Ian suffers from (Asperger’s syndrome) but the Victorian characters of the novel don’t have this insight.  And so Ian’s symptoms are described by him and by others as is the treatment he received for eleven years in an asylum until Hart arranged his release on their father’s death.  I am no expert on Asperger’s syndrome, but I suspect that Ian may be somewhat atypical.  He is able to express himself quite articulately and whilst Ashley describes his inability to recognise and interpret emotions, he seems to be able to discuss this inability with a degree of comprehension – and later find a pathway to an understanding of love -  that gave me pause.  I wondered if this was accurate.  I worried about it a little.  And then, ultimately, I decided that Ashley had done such a good job with this character, that I wasn’t going to be troubled any longer.  I made the conscious decision to simply accept Ian as he was presented.  Ashley has written a character in Ian whose actions and characteristics are consistent and logical within the pages of the book and within my own understanding of this type of condition.  Which I suppose is a very long-winded way of acknowledging that this character might not work for everyone, but he worked for me.

In fact, I loved him.  I loved the descriptions of his feelings for Beth – even if he didn’t recognise them as emotions until close to the end.  Even more, I loved the descriptions of his ways; his helpless absorption in the things that fascinated him – getting ‘lost’ as he put it.  There is a marvelous little bit where he becomes fixated on a ball of ink hanging suspended from the end of pen and in the end his valet has to take the pen and write for him.  Similarly, we get to see him in a number of difficult situations in which he becomes enraged or panicked.  Ashley’s depiction of how he experiences these events, how very raw and difficult they are for him, is so rich and satisfying.  The language Ian uses to describe his experiences is heartbreakingly understated: he refers to these situations as ‘getting into one of his muddles’.  Those romance readers with a motherly streak (Kristie J, I’m naming you; and standing with you, shoulder to shoulder) will love this hero.

The heroine – as is often the case with books that have an outstanding hero (or vice versa) was inevitably less noticeable.  Nevertheless, she was likeable. (I didn’t mind her ending up with my Ian).  We are told that Beth’s mother was genteel but her father was a con artist and she spent most of her childhood in poverty before marrying a vicar and enjoying a short but happy marriage with him.  On his death, she found employment as a companion, and after 7 or 8 years, when her employer died, inherited everything from her.  One small quibble I had was that the employer – Mrs Barrington – was portrayed rather unsympathetically.  Beth’s time with her was referred to as drudgery and we hear many quotes attributed to Mrs Barrington.  I had the sense we were meant to find her hypocritical and small-minded but on the whole I found her comments unobjectionable and given that she left Beth her large fortune, she couldn’t have been all bad!

If I’m going to be really picky, I also felt that Beth’s character felt as though it had been constructed to be Ian’s perfect match rather than a unique character in her own right.  She is uniquely suited to him: she has enough knowledge of the streets get information from whores she knows by name whilst having sufficient polish to navigate Ian’s privileged world with ease; she has enough sexual experience to be keen to bed him whilst having a sufficient degree of innocence that he is able to ‘teach’ her a number of variations on the general theme; she is empathetic enough to feel his pain whilst being tough enough to face down the rest of the world on his behalf.  You get the idea.  I’m not knocking Beth as such.  She worked.  But it did mean that she was a less compelling, less ‘real’ character for me than Ian.

Ian wants Beth on sight and quickly takes action to make her aware that her fiance Lyndon does not deserve her.  There’s an oddness around this opening portion of the book.  In the first chapter, Ian meets Lyndon to buy an antique bowl from him – Ming bowls are Ian’s passion.  We learn in this scene that Lyndon can’t tell a real bowl from a fake; and this is a metaphor for what he is as a man.  He doesn’t see what has value in life.  Without being over the top about it, Ashley shows us a man who is rude, crude and fawning all at once.  We see that he clearly does not deserve the heroine.  We want Ian to take her away from Lyndon before we’ve even met her. *SPOILER ALERT*  At this stage, I anticipated a struggle – perhaps a third of the book at least being given over to this – but that isn’t what happens.  Instead, Ian divulges something to Beth immediately about Lyndon that causes her to throw him over.  This revelation was not – to my mind at least – connected to the more fundamental objections about Lyndon’s character, and the ease with which she decided to ditch him felt odd.  Why had she agreed to marry someone in the first place that she could cast aside with such ease?

But really, these are mere quibbles.   I loved this book.  It consumed me.  I read it too fast then wished I hadn’t.  It’s an A for me despite the flaws, for the same reason The Spymaster’s Lady was an A for me: because it really got my teakettle whistling.

One last thing that I really liked about this book: the pacing of the ending.  I often feel like I don’t get enough HEA for my money.  You get the crisis/ the black moment, then the HEA.  Sometimes, the crisis is very close to the end of the book and suddenly the HEA is upon you, and it’s over.  And I feel like my rollercoaster car has just reached the end of the track and fallen to the ground, instead of gliding to a stop.  This book didn’t do that.  It gave us a black moment, then another, different crisis, then slowly brought us to a really lovely HEA before guiding us out of the rollercoaster car very gently and back onto the ground.  I can’t tell you how much I appreciated that careful handling.

Oh, and I can’t wait for Hart’s book.

Jessica’s Rejoinder:

I, too, really enjoyed this book, despite the fact that I had to read the paper version (I have gotten very used to enlarging the Kindle fonts!). I became intrigued by it after reading so many great reviews online, and when I saw how many readers of this blog had just bought it (discovered when I asked people what the last 5 books they bought were).

I’ll say what I really liked about it: the dark world of the Mackenzie brothers, the unusual hero, and the witty and no nonsense heroine. As Tumperkin has mentioned, the hero, Ian, has an unusual mind. He has a gift for numbers and memorization, trouble detecting verbal nuances and reading facial expressions, and can’t easily restrain his own impulses in order to follow social convention. The following bit exemplifies what I liked about Ian and about Beth:

“I shouldn’t let you do this,” she whispered.

“Why not?”

“Because I think you could break my heart.”

He traced his finger around her lips, outlining the cleft of the top lip and the roundness of the lower. His gaze remained on her lips, as his large hand moved to her thigh.

“Are you wet?” Ian whispered, teeth on her earlobe.

“Yes.” She tried to swallow. “If you must know, I am quite, quite damp.”

“Good.” his hot tongue circled the shell of her ear. “You understand such things. Why you need to be wet.”

“My husband explained on our wedding night. He thought that ignorance on the woman’s part was the cause of much unnecessary pain.”

“An unusual vicar.”

[snip]

His eyes flickered. “Does what I say anger you?”

“No, but never speak like that in a drawing room full of ladies and fine china, I implore you. That would be quite a mess.”

He nuzzled her hair. “I’ve never been with a lady before. I don’t know the rules.”

“Fortunately, I’m an unusual sort of woman. Mrs. Barrington did her best to change that, but she never succeeded, bless her.”

“Why should she want to change you?”

Beth warmed. “My lord, I do believe you are the most flattering man of my acquaintance.”

The scene also exemplifies what I felt uneasy about. Like Tumperkin, I felt Ian’s condition was romanticized. The lack of eye contact which some people with AS display is a marker for lack of empathy and social reciprocity. That’s a very big emotional barrier to the kind of romantic love Ian and Beth share. I also felt, as in this scene, that Beth’s wit, which I did really appreciate, sometimes took on the condescending tone of a parent who talks to her child in such a way that you know her comments are directed more at the other adults in the vicinity and not the child, who will never understand them anyway.

But, like Tumperkin, the good parts of the romance made me overlook these qualms. I figured if sexual abuse, domestic abuse, and all the other things get romanticized in the genre, why not autism spectrum disorder? I told myself Ian was on the “quirky” side of things, not the “high functioning autism” side.

Some readers felt the sequel bait was a bit too smelly, but I was so enthralled by the Mackenzie’s, who have had a hell of a childhood, I didn’t mind. I can’t wait for Mac and Hart’s stories in particular, Mac’s because he is estranged from his wife, and I love estrangement stories, and Hart’s because I found him absolutely vile and cannot believe he will get his own book.

Like Tumperkin, this was a page turner for me. I didn’t stop to ask why Ian became enthralled by the mere mention of Beth’s name, how likely it was that Beth would bump into both the hero’s brother and sister-in-law in France, why Beth felt so comfortable speaking plainly to both Mac and Hart about their own lives when she hardly knew either of them.

I was fascinated by every character who appeared on the scene (like Tumperkin, I thought the pacing was terrific. I never found a moment I could put it down.) and I just wanted to be in this world and learn more about it. I can’t wait for the next installment!

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8 Comments

Polyamory, Menage, Erotic Romance, and Culture

Jun 18

Posted by Jessica in Genre musings

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In this post, the word “menage” refers to a sexual activity involving three people, not primarily to a long term love relationship. I take it as obvious that one’s participation in a sexual menage doesn’t tell us anything about whether that person believes in monogamy, polyamory, or is against the idea of romantic love totally.

I’ve read five erotic romances which feature a menage (or more): Victoria Janssen’s The Duchess, Her Maid, The Groom and Their Lover, Megan Hart’s Dirty, Broken, and Tempted, and Maya Banks’s novella Overheard (all but the last are Harlequin Spice). In three cases, the menage involved one hetero woman and two hetero men, was the fulfillment of the heroine’s fantasy, and readers were led to believe it was a one off (ok, a three off). In Broken, the menage involved the hero and two female strippers. In each book, it was pretty clear that the protagonist would end up happily satisfied in the long term with just one person, and it was clear who that person was. In Dirty, the heroine had virtually no relationship with the second man. In Overheard, the heroine was friends with the second man. And in Tempted, the heroine had strong feelings for both of the men, but was married to one of them, with whom she stayed. Although Tempted takes us into a gray area, all of these books stay true to the RWA definition of romance –  the two person (primarily one woman, one man) love relationship.

The menage may push the sexual envelope in romance, but it doesn’t fundamentally threaten the core RWA definition of romance as a two person romantic relationship.

In contrast to the sexual term “menage”, polyamory, or polyfidelity, is a term for a committed love relationship (which may well include sexual menages or quartages, etc., or may not) with three or more people. This is romantic love, not mere lust or friendly feelings. (Some think of polyamory as a gender identity, but in this post I am using the term to refer to a lifestyle.)

Some people use the term polyamory to refer to a situation in which two people are the primary couple “in love”, but consent to sexual relations — even long term ones — with others with whom they are not romantically involved. “Swingers” with regular partners might fall into this category. That’s not true polyamory according to my definition.

Polyamorous relationships are guided by a very similar set of ethical values and principles to traditional monogamous relationships: love, mutual support, respect, loyalty, honesty, and trust. Polyamorites contend that there is so much deceit and cheating that goes on in supposedly monogamous relationships that their lifestyle is not so much different but being honest about what actually goes on. (For example, over 30% of the people who use online dating services are married. There is a whole dating site, Married Secrets, devoted to marrieds who want to stay with their spouses but have secret sex on the side) (although recent research suggests most married are faithful).

I may be wrong, but it seems to me that menage is becoming more and more common in erotic romance. It seems almost “old hat” in erotica, and we see “mainstream” publishers like Harlequin publishing books featuring the menage.

An HEA among three or more characters (polyamory in the sense I am using it here) is less common, but seems to me to be following the same trajectory. (Of course, my data set is comprised entirely of web surfing, so feel free to prove me wrong. Polyamory could be getting less common and less acceptable). Romance novels that end with three (or more) people together at the end feature what I would call “polyfidelity”. I have only read one of these, the paranormal novella It’s Raining Men, by Crystal Jordan, but I know that polyamory is a specialty of Emma Holly, for example.

I find this very interesting, especially in these times when we are interrogating our cultural understanding of marriage. My own thought had always been that while we can have sexual desires for more than one person at a time, true romantic love could only be felt for one person at a time. I think this has something to do with my conception of love, as not just an emotion but also a commitment to a “we”, a union of two people (thus begging the question). Thus the question of whether you believe polyamory truly possible may hang in some part on your definition of love. I may pursue this in a later post.

I know the links between pop cultural products like erotic romance novels and real people’s practices and beliefs are multivalent, and are mediated by many complex social, political, historical, and psychological structures, but I also think it is indisputable that pop culture is sometimes influentially ahead of the curve on where the culture is going. to take a recent example, think of the discussion of the portrayal of black presidents in TV and film around the time of Obama’s election:

“Our research suggests that people really do in a lot of ways treat fictional characters like real people,” said Melanie C. Green, a psychology professor at the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill. In 2004, she studied more than 100 college students and found that fictional narratives had just as strong an influence on their beliefs as nonfiction.

“To the extent that younger people have grown up seeing images of black presidents,” she said, “it is totally understandable that they would think about it in a different way than an older generation would.”

Of course, a TV show like 24 has millions of viewers and is a lot more mainstream than a publication on an epress which maybe sells, I don’t know, a few thousand copies?

Let me be clear on what I am NOT saying: (a) I am not suggesting that folks who sometimes write a polyamorous HEA in fact practice or support polyamory in real life, or (b) that these authors intend in any way to promote the poly lifestyle, the way Minx is encouraging writers and filmmakers to do, and (c) I am not saying that readers of erotic romance in fact endorse or intend to practice what they find in its pages. Trust me, I do understand fantasy.

But my own view of fiction, in general, is very far from Wilde’s or Barthes’ asceticism (art for art’s sake). I don’t think the gap between fiction (even fantasy fiction) and life is that large. On the other hand, fictional worlds are not actual worlds. They are not even possible worlds, but more like the “continuous and vivid dream” John Gardner spoke of.  Fiction stretches our imaginations and encourages us to see old things in new ways and to behold things we many never have dreamt of. I am not going further into the question, but merely gesturing in this post to my own stance, which holds, with Gardner, that “we recognize true art by its careful, thoroughly honest search for, and analysis of values” (On Moral Fiction).

I am no expert on the poly movement, but even I know that fiction has been important to it. Robert Heinlein’s 1961 novel Stranger in a Strange Land galvanized the twentieth century secular poly movement (good discussion of Heinlein here). More recent influences are purported to be feminism (women can build the kinds of relationships they desire. Increases in rates of female infidelity may support this), and the internet.

Some polyamory supporters explicitly advocate producing narratives that challenge stereotypical views of polyamory in culture. In her keynote at this year’s Poly Living Conference (Powerpoint here), activist Cunning Minx explicitly advocated influencing pop culture via social media (blogs, twitter), and via the creation of images in books and film to combat the two dominant (negative) images of poly — the “swingers”, and the religious polygamists. As summarized by Alan of Polyamorous Percolations,

[Minx] told the crowd of about 100 that it’s time for the poly-awareness movement to start shifting focus: from education — explaining polyamory to people who’ve never heard of it — to culture-building — creating recognizable pop images of the polyfolk-world that represent us well, that we can be proud of, and that will appear in people’s minds when they think of us.

In romance, it’s not terribly uncommon for the hero or heroine to have strong romantic feelings for more than one person (any “love triangle”, Butch for V and whatsername in J. R. Ward’s Lover Revealed, Sadie for both her husband and Joe in Broken, or even a character mourning his or her dead lover, as Gabe does in Susan Elizabeth Phillips’ Dream a Little Dream). But in most mainstream romance, it is a mark of maturity and growth of the characters to pick one person and settle down with him or her. It is also the way we mark the flow of romantic narrative — when the second candidate for the hero or heroine’s affection has been removed, we know we are nearing the end of the book.

But creating a believable world in which three honorable, loving people live happily ever after — together –  is quite different and quite subversive, and I think this is true whether the setting is fantastical or not.

Does the RWA accept polyfidelity as within genre boundaries? Should it?

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