This 2007 Harlequin Superromance was a free Kindle download. I would have paid considerably more to read this sweet, romantic, sometimes sad romance. Read on for why I think contemps are the purest form of romance and my thoughts on the hero with PTSD.
Setting: Contemporary Oregon. During a snowstorm.
Hero: Former engineer John Fallon, mid thirties, Iraq war vet with a limp, a scar and PTSD, who is trying to cure himself by running an isolated mountain inn.
Heroine: Fiona MacPherson, age 23, sweet but sensible teacher at a private high school.
Plot: Fiona and her vanload of 8 teenaged students get stuck in a snowstorm on the way home from an academic event. They seek shelter at the Thunder Mountain Lodge, and are stuck there with its surly (but very hot) proprietor for several days.
Conflict: I already told you the hero had PTSD! Pay attention!
Interesting feature: Hero is a beta. He even cries!
Fun factoid: Snowbound was the RITA award winner for best contemporary series romance.
Word on the Web:
Book Binge, Casee, 4.25 out of 5
“I’ve read quite a few Superromances. This one is now it my top 3. For a category romance, it packs quite the emotional punch.”
Shannon C., B (a brief review)
AAR, LinnyGayl, A-
[Note: I think there is a DA review, but I couldn't locate it. If anyone wants to give me the link, I'd be grateful!]
Racy Romance Review:
This admission may get me into trouble, but here it is: I think of contemporaries like Snowbound, ones that focus on the relationship, with no suspense or paranormal elements, as the purest form of the genre. For many people, the historical, perhaps the regency, would serve this role, in part because it’s the original form of the modernish romance (I think?). For me, the only essential elements of a romance are the focus on the relationship and the HEA. Anything else is “extra”, including the historical research required to write a regency or the worldbuilding required of paranormals. I know in my head that (a) the worldbuilding in any good romance is essential to the relationship, and (b) that contemporary writers have to worldbuild, too. But in my heart, as an immersed reader, I “feel” like the historical or fantasy worlds are “extra” (and the more poorly written the romance is, the more nonessential they feel). But in contemporaries, I read “through” the familiar world, straight to the romance. It just feels pure in some sense that doesn’t reflect what I know in my head. Hard to explain, and totally indefensible, but this is one reason why I just love a satisfying contemporary like Snowbound.
The “snowbound” type scenario tends to generate two things I especially love in romance: (1) lots of face time, usually with lots of talking, and (2) lots of sexual tension. I normally prefer my romances child-free, but the presence of teenagers worked really well here to create sexual tension (teacher can’t be getting it on with a stranger in front of the kids), and to illuminate both negative and positive aspects of John and Fiona’s characters. Although Fiona’s character arc was pretty much nonexistent (this is often the case in romances that feature a broken hero), at least she wasn’t one of those apple-pie perfect teachers: she had her moments of irritation, doubt and error when dealing with her charges. The tension and pacing worked best for me in the first half of the story, when they were in fact Snowbound. Things got a little slower and a little more by-the-numbers in the last third.
I thought John’s PTSD was handled so well, the greatest strength of the book. PTSD in heroes is often glamorized. By that I mean, the PTSD amounts to few flashbacks and doesn’t really impact the character: he’s still perfect, but now slightly more alluring because he has the appearance of being broken. Or it’s used as an excuse to show us how strong the heroine is (i.e. how much verbal or emotional abuse she can take). PTSD often goes along with one of my Most Hated Character Flaws ever: the hero who blames himself, over and over again, ad nauseum, until he turns into a self-obsessed, self-pitying wreck, for events over which he had no control.
Johnson avoids all of these pitfalls. For example, John himself is aware of the glamorizing potential of his situation: he and Fiona have a conversation about whether he is like Heathcliff early on, and he warns her not to romanticize him. She asks herself, “Was that the real attraction? Did she think she could somehow ‘fix’ him? Lord, was she that arrogant?” And John’s flashbacks are written in such a way that as a reader, you really experience how destabilizing and terrifying they are. Like this scene when the teens are playing in the snow outside the Inn:
The roughhousing reached a peak, with one of the boys falling to one side and another of them swinging around and taking a step as if he was going to run back toward John and Fiona. At the same time, there was a loud crack.
Not the whine of an incoming artillery shell. Damn, somehow a sniper had gotten a range on them. They were on base and he didn’t even have his weapon. John saw blood spurting as the running man took another step and then in seeming slow motion toppled. “Get down!” John bellowed at the one standing soldier, then turned, grabbed Fiona and threw her into the soft snow, going after her to shield her with his body.
One clinically inaccurate feature in romances like this is that the PTSD is always “caused” by some Big Violent Event in which the Hero Failed his Comrades (this is true in Hollywood, too). Of course, PTSD does not require one Big Violent Event. Iraq vets have a higher rate than other vets of PTSD in part precisely because of the fragmented nature of the war, the blurring of lines between civilian and soldier, battle front and base, etc. I don’t mind authors focusing on one Big Violent Event — surely that is accurate for at least some soldiers, and works for some characters — but I hate it when they add “and it was all my fault” without actually exploring the sense in which it was his fault. In this case, John wasn’t merely present for the Big Violent Event, but he did bear some responsibility for what happened, and this was not glossed over.
At several points, this was a heartbreaking book. John has been closed off and lonely for so long, that when he achieves some level of emotional and physical intimacy with Fiona, you cheer as a reader. But he refuses to acknowledge that he needs treatment and Fiona stands her ground. It’s heartbreaking to see John’s brief oasis of tender human connection yanked out from under him, and if I had one problem with the book, it was that Fiona was a little too abrupt. Fiona is pretty hard headed from beginning to end, asking herself at first, “Why couldn’t she feel this way for someone more … convenient?” As a romantic, I wanted Fiona to be a little more overcome by her emotions, but as a realist, I appreciated her honesty. I guess this took the edge slightly off their final reconciliation.
I really enjoyed this one. I couldn’t put it down. I will definitely be reading more from this author — she has over 60 titles in print!
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#1 by jillyfae on April 26, 2009 - 8:24 am
This sounds wondeful, but I have to admit I have almost the opposite reaction regarding contemporary vs. suspense/paranormal. I tend to find a romance without that additional conflict harder to become involved in, as there’s nothing to relate the romance TO. (Ack, awful sentence.) As in, without a secondary action-y plot, to me they fall in love in a bit of a vacuum, and I’m waiting to see how the romance is going to change how they actual react to new and old situations in their lives, so what are they going to do when outside conflict actually happens? (Does that make any sense? I’m thinking not. Must figure out how to explain myself better.) And while I know in my head it’s completely nonsensical, I find myself looking at suspense, historicals, paranormals, sfr, etc. before I pick up a regular contemporary. But I might have to find this one…
#2 by Margie on April 26, 2009 - 9:17 am
I read this book and also really enjoyed it. You articulated the problem with most PTSD characters really well. I hate it when there is some Big Past Event that the hero/heroine feels so guilty about, and then when it’s finally revealed no sane, normal person would ever feel that responsible for it. It always seemed like a cop out, like the author thought readers couldn’t forgive or redeem a character who actually did something worth agonizing over.
(Possible Spoiler?)
I also liked how John got therapy to help deal with his PTSD. It seems to me that getting seriously damaged characters professional help is becoming more common in contemporary romances. I think it’s a good thing, even if it is just mentioned briefly in the epilogue for most stories (although not for Snowbound). While I adore the idea of “love conquers all”, the psychologist in me appreciates at least the nod to realism.
#3 by Laura Vivanco on April 26, 2009 - 10:52 am
Re “in contemporaries, I read ‘through’ the familiar world” I didn’t (and generally don’t) get this feeling, perhaps because few if any contemporaries are set in my “familiar world.”
Re other reviews, I found one from AAR ( LinnieGayl Kimmel gave it an A- ).
Jessica, did you get the sense that the hero is, in a way, a representative of the US military in Iraq as viewed through a semi-positive (i.e. based on the assumption that the invasion was well-meaning but naive/not based on thinking through all the ramifications/not knowing all the facts) mindset?
Margie mentioned that in other novels it seemed as though “the author thought readers couldn’t forgive or redeem a character who actually did something worth agonizing over.” Since Margie’s brought up the issue of the reader needing to forgive the character (as well as the character needing to forgive himself) I wondered whether in this particular novel whether or not a reader feels able to forgive the character might depend on the extent to which they read him the way I did and/or how the reader feels about the Iraq war.
#4 by Laura Vivanco on April 26, 2009 - 10:57 am
I think I forgot to tick the box asking to be emailed followup comments, so I’m going to try to remember this time. Sorry about adding an extra comment, just so I can sign up to the comment notification.
#5 by Jessica on April 26, 2009 - 12:53 pm
jillyfae wrote:
Boy, we are very different in our reading preferences! but I do think as a modern reader, external conflict is easier to relate to. These days very little actually stops anyone from having sex with or loving whomever they want, and the conflicts authors resort to can be much less convincing than “but you’re a vampire” or “aren’t you trying to kill me?” or “we have to save the world not fall in love!”
Margie wrote:
This is such a great way to put it. Yes, exactly. This is what generates the proliferation of wallpaper bad girls and cardboard rakes.
Laura Vivanco wrote:
Thanks Laura. I just added it.
Laura Vivanco wrote:
Now that you mention it, Snowbound was apolitical in that sense. No reference to the justness of the war. Certainly John was portrayed very positively. There was no mention of post-war military or social support of Iraq war veterans.
Laura Vivanco wrote:
I know what you mean, and in a way I agree with you. I have never been to the Oregon mountains, for example. But I have so much more in common with a middle class Oregonian in the early 21st century than a Regency heroine, that it feels much stranger. When reading a Regency, the way they dress, eat, walk, move, transport themselves, communicate, talk, socialize, dance, etc. feels “not of my world”.
#6 by Laura Vivanco on April 26, 2009 - 2:34 pm
“Now that you mention it, Snowbound was apolitical in that sense. No reference to the justness of the war. Certainly John was portrayed very positively.”
That’s what I mean, though. I interpreted that as a political choice, because while there isn’t a reference to the justness of the war, there isn’t a reference to it being illegal either, and the choice of an Iraq veteran to be the hero, and the circumstances in which he got his PTSD, seemed to me to suggest support for what I’ve described above as the “semi-positive” assessment of the war.
I suppose I just can’t imagine any way of writing about the war which isn’t political, just like there isn’t any point on the grid at the Political Compass which isn’t political.
“But I have so much more in common with a middle class Oregonian in the early 21st century than a Regency heroine, that it feels much stranger.”
But my expectations for what I ought to have in common with someone in a contemporary are higher, so then when their mindset is quite different from mine, I’m more surprised and distanced from the story than if I’d set out expecting the characters to have very different attitudes from mine in the first place. It’s semi-related to the fact that I can make excuses for certain attitudes in a historical because they’re true to the historical period, but I can’t do that with a character in a contemporary.
#7 by Janine on April 26, 2009 - 3:16 pm
I’ve only read one book by this author, With Child. I enjoyed it and meant to read more of her but I actually find myself more drawn to other genres than to the straight contemporary. I think this is because I look for a certain amount of romantic glamour or sophistication or a magical quality from romances, which contemporaries frequently lack (although I can think of some, like Megan Hart’s, which do have it).
I also find that contemporaries are more likley to jar me with inaccuracies when authors don’t get the details right. Not that it can’t bother me in other subgenres, too, but it’s even more jarring in contemporaries because sometimes the inaccuracies seem more glaring and it comes across as if the author just decided to ignore the reality of the world I live in for the sake of plot contrivances.
I hasten to add that I did not have the inaccuracy issues with the one Janice Kay Johnson book I read.
#8 by Janine on April 26, 2009 - 3:33 pm
I think there are many Americans who were not in favor of the war but who don’t blame American soldiers for the Bush administration’s decisions and orders. In fact, many view the soldiers as some of the people who have suffered most from the war and have great sympathy for them. In some cases, fear for the soldiers’ lives and for their health was a major factor that led people to oppose the war. I know some who vehemently opposed the war from the beginning and yet have tremendous sympathy for the soldiers.
So I think the fact that a hero who fought in Iraq and suffers from PTSD is positively portrayed does not necesssarily mean that the author supports the war or sees it in a positive light. Many Americans see the government and the soldiers as completely different and I can easily imagine even readers who were strongly opposed to the war enjoying a book about a veteran of Iraq.
#9 by Tumperkin on April 26, 2009 - 3:57 pm
“I think of contemporaries like Snowbound, ones that focus on the relationship, with no suspense or paranormal elements, as the purest form of the genre.”
I think I agree. And I think that is also some of the appeal of cateogries, it’s just *that* stripped back to the bare essentials.
#10 by Laura Vivanco on April 26, 2009 - 4:02 pm
So I think the fact that a hero who fought in Iraq and suffers from PTSD is positively portrayed does not necesssarily mean that the author supports the war or sees it in a positive light.
I’ve been trying to avoid spoilers, and I still don’t want to give any, so I can’t be specific about it, but the circumstances which led to this hero having PTSD are ones which made me draw parallels. I read another romance from the same line, also featuring an Iraq veteran, whose guilt was due to the fact that he wondered if he could have done something to save some comrades, and I didn’t get the same vibes from it, so I do think it was something about the specifics of this book which made me feel the way I did.
#11 by Holly on April 27, 2009 - 12:45 am
I agree with you completely about John and his PTSD issues. I thought the author did an amazing job of articulating his pain and suffering. In no way was it glossed over or brushed aside. I really appreciated that.
Unfortunately the issues you mentioned with Fiona brought my grade down quite a bit. When I first reviewed this book I couldn’t put my finger on what it was that didn’t work for me, but you summed it up quite well here.
Although I liked Fiona in the beginning as the novel progressed I found myself becoming more and more annoyed with her. I appreciate that she was frustrated with John’s refusal to deal with his issues, but her reactions seemed off to me.
On the contemporary front: I agree with you completely. There really isn’t anything I can add, so I’ll just say…
Word.
#12 by Janine on April 27, 2009 - 2:17 am
Ah, I see. Thanks for explaining.
#13 by Victoria Janssen on April 27, 2009 - 8:27 am
This is one of my favorite JKJ books.
#14 by Jill Sorenson on April 27, 2009 - 9:13 am
I have this in my TBR pile. Ditto on the snowbound theme. I think Larissa Ione has a book by the same title that I’ve been lusting after.
#15 by dharmagirl on April 27, 2009 - 10:20 am
Jessica, I agree with you about contemporaries being “the purest form of the genre.” Because the world is largely familiar, I can focus instead on the relationship itself, how it develops along the familiar narrative path, and I feel, in some ways, that this emotional justice *is* more realistic. I wonder if some of the other genres, i.e. paranormal, however, ask more questions about that narrative path? Do they call the genre conventions and/or relationship tensions into question more? I have no idea–I’ve just started to read paranormal romances–but I think there might be something there…
#16 by Shannon C. on April 27, 2009 - 4:20 pm
Fascinating discussion.
I agree. The PTSD thing was wonderful. When you started quoting that passage about the flashback, I remembered it exactly and got a little chill.
Fiona was kind of a mess for me, and I think the reason I didn’t like her is mostly the reason I’m not a big contemporary fan. My expectations, like Laura Vivanco’s, are generally higher for contemporary characters. I expect them, particularly the heroines, to act in a way that makes sense and is relatable. So often they don’t, and we end up with characters like Fiona, who thought like someone twice her age. At least in paranormals/historicals, I can chalk that kind of thing up to an aspect of world-building and it works well for me.
#17 by Jessica on April 27, 2009 - 7:10 pm
Jill Sorenson wrote:
there is an Ione with the same title, and some older books, too.
dharmagirl wrote:
In some ways, i think paranormals do LESS of this, but I would not want to generalize. I will be interested in what you make of this subgenre!
Shannon C. wrote:
I never thought of it that way, but you are right.
#18 by jillyfae on April 28, 2009 - 8:07 am
Shannon C. wrote:
That, right there, is a large part of what I was trying to say in my first post. I enjoy the extra focus on the relationship possible in a good contemporary, but most of the ones I’ve tried aren’t focused enough to make it work without making a character inconsistent, or relying on stupid conflict. Thus, paranormal or suspense conflict are something I’m more likely to read, because it’s less likely to be glaringly annoying.