Archive for: February, 2010

Monday Morning Stepback: Links, Cliques, and Randomness

Feb 15 2010 Published by under Monday Morning Stepback

1. Links of interest (It turns out I can live without Twitter longer than I can live without my Google reader). Keep in mind, I make no pretense of being “newsy”, so some of these are pretty stale in blog years.

Laura Vivanco gets interviewed for a fantastic piece on romance by the Yale Herald (why does a student newspaper succeed where so many major media outlets fail?), and offers a sharp critique of the Carroll article I mentioned last week at Teach Me Tonight.

Carolyn Crane is a member of the League of Reluctant Adults and she is exposing their secrets!!!

Why Are there No Fat Vampires? from Womanist Musings.

“Can Authors Balance Privacy and Publicity in the Internet Era? at Nathan Bransford — read it for the comments. And Magdalen talking about the same thing on the very same day.

“The Adulterous Wife”, Toril Moi’s negative review of the highly anticipated new Constance Borde and Sheila Malovany-Chevallier translation of The Second Sex in the LRB. Moi’s piece isn’t just a review but a fascinating comparison between the two translations and meditation on the problems of translation.

The Era of Casual Fridays, (via (from Books, Inq.) a blog by Mark Richardson, professor at Doshisha University in Kyoto and Robert Frost scholar, meditates on the profession of English, asking

Is it possible to be compromised, even corrupted, by what we write and read and teach, and by how we write, read, and teach it?

In “What’s Up With All the Romances?” the Witchy Chicks ask why romances get all the shelf space in the supermarket, Walmart and even bookstore. Something I’d never considered, so used I am to thinking of romance as the underdog.

AnimeJune’s Instant Classic, “How to Exploit the Dead For Fun and Profit” criticizes the trend of new paranormal twists on old favorites novels.

Author Emily Bryan is continuing her series Regency Men Undressed, and she’s down to the underthings.

Harlequin Spice author Victoria Janssen’s blog had its first birthday Friday. Happy Anniversary, Victoria!

Janicu is offering helpful advice about BEA and the Book Bloggers’ Convention, talking about bookish spots in NYC to visit and admire.

A number of personal posts floated my boat these past days:

Harlequin Presents author Kate Hewitt talks about the personal memories that inspired The Greek Tycoon’s Reluctant Bride. It turns out Ms. Hewitt, whose married name is Mrs. Thermopolous, IS the reluctant bride of a Greek Tycoon. Kidding!

Mandi of Smexy Books told her tale of true love over at Fiction Vixen. It’s very funny!

2. Flurry of Posts on the In Crowd Katiebabs and then Karen Scott and then Mrs. Giggles posted on the question of an “in crowd” in romance blogging. Sarah Tanner followed up with the question of bloggers responding to comments. Everyone else has put their own spin on it. Here’s mine.

For me, the fact that blogging has made me feel like part of a community is one of the most surprising things about it. (The other surprising thing is that I am developing a research interest in popular romance scholarship. This is a bit afield of the biomedical ethics I have been working on the past several years, but I’ve hatched a scheme to connect vampire romance to bioethics in a totally unexpected and bloody way). I wonder sometimes if one of the needs Romland meets for me is to seem to have a group of girlfriends — not couples friends, and not colleague friends, — in a way I really haven’t since I was an undergraduate. It’s fun.

As for being snubbed, I guess my feeling is you can’t make people notice you or admire you or like you. The other side is that they can’t demand it of you either, which is a big relief, to me at least. We all owe each other a basic level of respect if we cross cyberpaths (though we can and do argue about what that entails in specific cases), but beyond that, nada.

Of course, sometimes we won’t get that respect, and sometimes we’ll fail to give it. We’re human beings, some of us humaner than others. This is where the thick skin is so important, even more online than in real life, for obvious reasons.

I was surprised how quickly Katiebabs’ post turned, on Karen’s blog, into a discussion of DA and SBTB, because to be honest, I don’t think big blogs have any sort of monopoly on in-group formation. I mean, you have the Katiebabs/Book Smugglers/AnimeJune Clique (SBAK). Don’t think it’s a clique? Fine. When’s the last time Ana invited you to her place in the UK? And how about those SoCal bloggers? It’s so exclusive I would have to move 3000 miles to join it!! Then there’s the m/m clique — you know who you are. There’s the SPRS Mafia (led by SarahF. and Eric, but An Goris is the Enforcer). And Kristie(j)’s clique is so exclusive no one even KNOWS who is in it.

So it was a bit of a non sequitur to me at first that the discussion went to the long thread at Karen’s about DA and SBTB. My theory is that people trying to make sense of what it means for there to be leaders in the Romanceland community. When I post on something, my few hundred readers, which includes few if any people of influence or standing in the industry, assume it is some random woman’s opinion. When someone at DA or SBTB post, their thousands of readers — which include many influential people in the romance and book publishing industries — assume it is a representative opinion. There’s a difference. The level of sophistication about the industry, the influence, the connectedness, and the visibility beyond the Romland blogosphere of SBTB and DA and others seems new (and I argued it is here). So people are going to talk about them. Like I am doing right now.

I have nothing helpful to actually say about it, but those questions are more intriguing to me than in-groups, which are like the weather — unpredictable, impossible to control, and boring to talk about.

3. What I’m teaching this week (sort of a mini rant)

I’ve mentioned on the blog that most everything I teach and everything I do in my consulting work is very controversial and fraught. Here’s an experiment in talking a little about one of those things on the blog.

We’re finishing an abortion unit in one class. The textbook has one article from a feminist perspective, and it’s by a “pro-life feminist”. By my lights, a feminist perspective has to acknowledge the gendered nature of the issue, the fact that only women become pregnant and bear children, that in most societies the burden of early child care falls disproportionately on women (whether in unpaid or low paid domestic labor), that women’s status as feminine is linked with their status as mothers in a different way than men’s status as masculine is linked with their status as fathers, and that there is gender injustice in most societies. There are lots of pro-choice arguments in favor of abortion that aren’t feminist and I teach at least two of them. I think the feminist pro-choice point of view is so important that I assign an article on e-reserve, but it boggles the mind that I have to do this.

But back to the pro-life feminist piece. I am happy to teach a good anti-choice article from a feminist, just as I teach a range of other anti-choice essays, but I have never found one. The “feminist pro-life” essay in the textbook is so riddled with falsehoods (recycling pro-life movement myths about “post abortion syndrome”, and links between abortions and cancer, for example) and lapses in logic (i.e. that recognizing that we should support women who choose to bring unexpected pregnancies to term with public funds if necessary somehow implies we should prevent those who choose to abort from doing so; or that, because 19th century feminists were pro-life, so should 21st century feminists be.) that I have to ask myself whether my rationale that it is a useful way to explore commonly held falsehoods and faulty arguments is strong enough. I think it’s the last time I’ll teach that one.

4. Personal

I hope you had a good Valentine’s Day, if you wanted to, and I hope you successfully ignored it, if that was your desire. My husband bought me something I’ve wanted, an electric tea kettle, and made me a pot of tea. We get our tea from Upton Tea Imports. We don’t do a lot of romantic things for Valentine’s Day. We’ll have to take whatever measure of comfort we can in our phenomenal sex life. (Kidding!) (Wait… Not kidding!) (Erm. Ahem.)

Doug Fieger, lead singer of the Knack (and Jewish, I might add), the band that brought us “My Sharona”, is dead at 57.

Some of you may recall “My Sharona” from the shit 1994 film Reality Bites, starring Ethan Hawke and Winona Ryder. Yours Truly remembers “My Sharona” from the 45 I bought in 1979.

As for blogging, I have lost my reviewing mojo. Yes, I wrote that snarky review on Friday, but that’s different. I have a host of half-finished reviews. I still want to read, and I still want to blog. But I hope the reviewing slump passes.

I’ll have to write a review this week for Keishon’s TBR challenge. My book is Kathleen O’Reilly’s first (I think) book, a 2001 Jove historical called Touched by Fire starring the challenge’s February theme, a virgin hero.

I am running a contest. Winner can choose four books from a selection. But you have to write a purple prose paragraph to enter. Warning: the thread is already a brain bleeder.

HAPPY WEEK!

154 responses so far

Contest: The Romance Writers’ Phrase Book

Feb 14 2010 Published by under Genre musings

Last night my book club met. We’re a group of humanities and social science professors, and our book discussions tend to be long and intense, because we are all trying to prove our discipline’s superior ability to read a text. We follow that with getting drunk and talking about The Simpsons until the wee hours of the morning.

Anyway, I was recovering from a nasty virus, so my husband went without me. The topic was Padgett Powell’s Edisto, which I hope to finish one day and review. My husband got home after I fell asleep, but this morning I walked into the kitchen to find this:

I don’t think I need to tell you what this book is supposed to do. Check out Sarah Tanner’s most excellent post on this book from March 2009 for an explanation and hilarious example of how to “use” this book.

I checked out Amazon.com’s reviews. My favorite review is by M.A. Bechaz “bookaholic”:

Oh, but this book is awful! Its authors have taken all the very worst, most revolting, most overused phrases found in romance books (those same hackneyed phrases that make romance book editors swear they’ll scream if they have to read them one more time) and organised them into one tome, all in neat little chapters. This book is like a tombstone on the grave of creative writing … about as much of a turn on as getting a pap smear. In fact, I’ve read tractor magazines that were hotter and spicier than this.

But Goodwin’s Gal’s 2005 review offers a spirited defense of the book:

the overall message and purpose of the book seems to have been overlooked. The Romance Writers’ Phrase Book is a guide that’s meant to inspire an author and get a writer to understand the importance and the role of the “descriptive tag/phrase” when it comes to the overall art of writing as a whole.

Romance fiction in particular relies a great deal on emotion and internal conflict. Neglecting the little details, those descriptive phrases, can make or break a story. When I open this book, I’m not looking for a word-for-word phrasing I can simply cut and paste into my manuscript. Romance writing (heck, any writing) is never that simple or that formulaic. For me, the phrase book is a good starting point when I’m stumped on a gesture or where to start on how I want to describe an action or a particular emotion.

It’s easy to make fun of a book like this, and if you’re going to use it to mash up random phrases and pass that off as a novel, you deserve to be made fun of.  And, yeah, some of the phrases are outdated and ridiculous no matter what the context (see below for a sampling). But I read a lot of romance, and I have read … many, many, many of the phrases in this book, even in books with publication dates well into the twenty-first century. For example, “her temptingly curved mouth”, “his square jaw tensed visibly”, “the heat emanating from his body”, “with long purposeful strides”, “his eyebrows shot up in surprise, “his jaw clenched, his eyes slightly narrowed”, “the last traces of resistance vanished”, “she swallowed hard and bit back tears”, “her body ached for his touch”, “his gaze was soft as a caress”, “her soft curves molding to the contours of his lean body”, and on and on. Either there are a zillion copies tucked away in writers’ desk drawers, or writers have read enough romances that they unconsciously rely on the stock phrases of the genre with which they are familiar.

Ok, so where’s the contest? Well, inspired by the mystery appearance on my kitchen table of this book, and by Sarah’s post, you can choose any four of the used books below if you win. To enter, create and post here a paragraph with 4 or more of the following phrases from this book (I will count. I am professory like that), lovingly hand chosen by yours truly, by this Friday at midnight eastern time.  Open to anyone living anywhere (actually, Mars might be too far). Only one entry per person. I will choose winner at random on Saturday and announce it on this thread.

her complexion was white and illusive pink

her mouth was a smiling rosy flower

the living moistness of her full red mouth

her hair was a cobweb of silvery gold

she had a look of loving to pamper herself

he had a monopoly on virility

the warmth of personal contact in his hand

with an adventurous toss of her head

her head bowed and she remained in an attitude of frozen stillness

he touched his forehead slightly in a mock salute

a circle of ice ringing her mouth

a cold congested expression settled on his face

an inexplicable look of withdrawal came over his face

there was a pale blue lightening of amusement between his lashes

her large black eyes were filled with shifting stars

her eyes froze on his lips

his tone was irascibly patient

she was determined to straighten the havoc alone

the heavy lashes that shadowed her cheeks flew up

she was shocked when his eyes suddenly filled with a fierce sparkling

she was irritated at the thrilling current moving through her

her thoughts scampered vaguely around

she felt a curious swooping pull at her innards

her green eyes clawed him like talons

she allowed her subconscious thoughts to surface

could she handle his bundle of restless energy?

the moist satin of her breasts

his bulbous nose dominated his meaty features

reflected light glimmered over his handsome face like beams of icy radiance

manly wisps of dark hair curled against the V of his open shirt

his full black hair flowed from his face like a crest

preoccupied with his blonde hair and long slim legs

his cold urbanity was only slightly disturbed

he had the craggy look of an unfinished sculpture

his flesh met hers in a warm clasp

with a few swift strokes he closed the circle

Books to win (click on the cover to learn more about each book. They are USED):

Happy writing!

23 responses so far

Need Book Recs for Boy With Avg Maturity but Advanced Reading Level

Feb 13 2010 Published by under Children's Books

In a used book store recently, my son and I found a book called Pirates! by Celia Rees. It was a hard back with no book jacket, but I leafed through it, and it looked good. I especially liked that it had female protagonists and a bit of romance. He’s been enjoying it, but he just got to a scene with a sexual assault. “It made me feel bad,” he told me, “so I put the book away”. We talked a bit more, and it’s clear the mature themes, while mild for a teen book, are making my ten year old uncomfortable. We’re thinking about reading it together, skipping scenes he doesn’t like, and a few other options, but I want to have a stack of ideas for his next read.

If you are familiar with the highly praised Pirates! you might be thinking: “Duh! That book is for 6th to 9th graders.” I know that, now, but here’s the problem: in 3rd grade my son passed the language arts test our 12th graders take to graduate high school. Like most old curmudgeons, I suspect standards have gotten lower over the years, but on any measure, it’s clear (not from some test score, but from how fast he reads books for 10 year olds, and how unexcited he is by them) he need something different from chapter books for kids his age.

So, I’m looking for recommendations for books that are challenging for a precocious 10 year old boy, but don’t have adult-ish themes. He likes fantasy, sci fi, and adventure, but is pretty open minded.

Perhaps in anticipation of the closure of our Borders, which hasn’t been announced, but which only a nitwit could fail to predict, our local music store is opening a giant book section today. I’m definitely going book shopping, and I need ideas for my boy.

Thanks, thanks, thanks, in advance!

58 responses so far

Review: Savage Lust, by Gabriella Bradley

Feb 12 2010 Published by under Reviews

Warning: this post is not safe for work, for minors, or for the snark averse.

Savage Lust is one of those books that makes you think, “I could never write like that”. Never, that is, unless I had access to memory-erasing technology that could strip my brain of any knowledge I gained of the English language after age 8.

Here’s the plot: Topaz Fiero, R.N., inherits, from her mother’s lover, John, a sprawling Texas ranch occupied by John’s three sons, Chad, Sam and Johnny, who are very unhappy about the situation. “Fiero”, youngest brother Johnny informs us, “means savage. I looked it up on the internet on my mobile!” Oldest brother Chad is having none of this intercultural enlightenment, referring to Topaz as “some slut our father fucked.” Eventually they all want to have sex with each other. Topaz may or may not be their half sister, but nobody really cares about a little thing like incest in this book.

The writing made my brain hurt. Sentences like “Tires screeched as Chad pulled up before the steps and after getting out of the vehicle, he slammed the door hard.” made me wonder if the text had gone through Google translator a few dozen times before making it onto my Kindle. Then there was the repetitiveness. I swear that girl was a yeast infection waiting to happen with all the times “her panties grew damp.” Every once in a while (ok, constantly) the characters seem to think they are in a different novel. Topaz, for example, says things like “bloody well” and the brothers use expressions like “ye gads!”.

As she travels to Texas, Topaz wonders, “How will they receive me?”. Oh, no, Nurse Fiero. the question is: in how many ways will you receive them?

Topaz arrives at the ranch, and is treated coldly by all except Corky, “a robust black lady with a shining round face and a very friendly smile” who refers to our newly arrived slut as “Mizz” and the brothers as “Master”.

In short order, Chad and Topaz have a tender moment in the middle of a raging thunderstorm as she strokes “Lucifer”, his black stallion. They kiss, but he suddenly leaves, because the plot requires it. What’s a virgin nurse to do in a stable in a rainstorm but yank her pants down and masturbate on a bale of hay?  Chad returns, having spied on her, and threatens her with rape, but stops when he puts his finger inside her and feels “her most prized possession, her virginity”. Chad seeks his own release, described lyrically by the author as “grabbing his cock and pulling the skin back and forth.”

Sam, after having an epiphany (“We don’t have to treat her so crappy”) takes Topaz to a swimmin’ hole. This allows him his turn to spy on and nearly rape Mizz Topaz followed by a quick pull o’ the taffy while submerged. Our heroine apologizes for failing to pull his taffy for him, explaining that she’s saving herself for a foursome with three rancher brothers “a man who wants to commit to me for life.”

Soon, it’s Johnny’s turn. And these brothers must have had special gynecological training, because he, too, stops himself when “I felt your hymen”.

For her part, our virgin is confused: three makeout grope sessions in three days with three different men, which one does she love?

But the action takes an unexpected turn when Chad, furious at the thought that this whore will host their annual Christmas party (he’s a bit of a traditionalist, our Chad), storms out of the house and attempts to take out all his frustration on the giant decorated tree in the mansion’s front yard. With an axe. “Without thinking, Topaz ran as fast as she could and threw herself at him just as the axe came crashing down”. And then she dies, a bloody heap at the foot of the Christmas tree.

Just kidding!

Miraculously, both Topaz and the tree are pretty much unscathed. But a shaken Chad retreats to the barn where his father appears in ghostly form, to conveniently answer all his questions about Topaz. Just as in Hamlet, he calls his son a “jackass” and “dumb as a bag of rocks”.  Giving credence to my theory that peeping-tomism is genetic in the Douglas family, he lets Chad know he saw him almost take Topaz’s virginity. Topaz is special, he warns his son, unlike his old girlfriend, who “always reminded him of a blow up doll.” Gee dad, you always had a way with words.

Convinced either by her constantly slick cunt or their dead father, Chad, Johnny and Sam have pretty much accepted Topaz by the night of the Christmas party. Unfortunately, right when the Bible reading is about to start, Topaz is attacked by Chad’s blow up doll, I mean ex girlfriend: “Topaz’s nursing experience told her right away that she’d been injected with something.” The blow up doll tries to convince the brothers Topaz abandoned them, but they begin to doubt her story when they find an empty syringe in Topaz’s bathroom trash. I guess blow up dolls aren’t that smart after all!

Topaz, meanwhile, is at the mercy of the blow up doll’s lackeys. Despite one of the men telling the other to “put that hungry cock of yours back in your pants” — because thugs always refer to each other’s cocks as “hungry” — Topaz has occasion to wonder “Is this to be my fate? To be raped by a foul, stinking, rustling cowboy turned kidnapper?” No, Topaz. don’t you know what book you’re starring in? Your fate is to be raped by three nice smelling cowboys. Breaking the pattern, the kidnapper masturbates without sticking his finger inside her and feeling her hymen.

Eventually, Topaz is rescued. She and Johnny declare their love for each other, with the following unexpected and not entirely welcome addendum from Topaz: “I love your brothers, too”. Oh, snap!

Eventually, Chad proposes, but Topaz tells him she wants to marry his brothers in a handfasting ceremony (this pagan ritual was suggested by Mammy, I mean Corky). Using her patented sexy move on his penis (“she moved the skin back and forth”) she convinces first Chad, then the others to go along with it. I mean, this woman survived an axing and a hypodermic needle. Who thought for a minute she couldn’t convince three traditional Texas cowboys to share her? She simply explains that their menage is not “out of sexual lust, orgies and all that. This would be a union of love. Completely different.”

Rather than worrying about three pairs of dirty socks to pick up every day, and three mouths full of bad breath to greet her every morning, our intrepid Topaz is excited to “bear children for all three of you! And just wait, I want lots and lots of kids!”.

As they get ready for the big night, Chad remember that his dead father can see his every move and hear his every thought. He informs Johnny, who acknowledges it gives him “the damn creeps”. Sam counsels, “We’ll just have to put it out of our mind. If he does sit and watch us, all I can say is that he’ll get his jollies out of it.” Dear dad, as well as both dead moms (!!!!), show up to add a new layer of prurient incest. Dad tells the boys, “It’s fantastic. … I’ll be here watching you.” It is at this moment that the mystery of Topaz’s conception is revealed: her mother Juanita was raped. Phew. Not all of them are related to each other, then.

Finally, the big deflowering night arrives. The author has a hard time balancing the purple with the pron, and shifts from descriptions like this: “Her virginal folds, the pink canal, slightly opened, still tight because it had never been invaded by what it needed” … to this: “he continued to finger fuck her”. The next night, having exactly 24 hours of lovemaking experience, Topaz enjoys triple penetration without batting an eye.

And they all lived happily ever after.

The author’s website has a photo of a large breasted, blond, scantily clad model, but as I read the text itself, the following authorial image kept springing to mind:

This book gave me a lot of enjoyment. It really did.

23 responses so far

Feminist Critique of Romance: Ur Doin It Wrong (“The Barrister’s Bedmate, by Rochelle Hurst”)

Feb 10 2010 Published by under Academia, Genre musings

UPDATE 10/25/10: I heard from the Editor of the journal. I appreciate that she took the time to respond, something she did not have to do. She rejected 100% of my concerns. I understand she also rejected the concerns of at least one of the people who was misquoted in the article. Luckily the journal is obscure, so the damage won’t be as great as it could be to those scholars whose work is misquoted and misrepresented.

*I couldn’t have written this post without the help of Laura Vivanco especially the background on Mills & boon, Emma Darcy and in tracking down citations. All the opinions expressed here are mine.

I haven’t been all that satisfied with feminist engagement with popular romance, on either side. Feminists often operate with ignorance as to the diversity of the genre, or they don’t clarify their theoretical grounding for feminism, while romance defenders can sometimes use the word “feminism” or “feminists” in a bit of a loosey goosey way. While in the popular imagination there may be some monolith called “Feminism”, there is no such thing in either history or theory. Just as romance scholars rightfully reject the idea that Romance is one book being written over and over in slightly different ways, I have been hopeful for a parallel recognition on the part of romance defenders of the diversity, tensions, and complex history of feminism and feminist theory. Understanding the vigorous debates among feminists over issues like pornography and cultural diversity, and the equally significant disagreements in feminist theory over how to define even basic terms like sexism, oppression, equality (of what? between whom?), and gender, the word “feminist” has very little meaning for me unless it is situated somewhere in that complex terrain, no matter who is using it.

Given that hope, I was excited to find: “THE BARRISTER’S BEDMATE: Harlequin Mills & Boon and the Bridget Jones Debate” by Rochelle Hurst, Australian Feminist Studies, Vol. 24, No. 62, December 2009. I saw she cited real feminist theorists, like Linda Alcoff, Iris Young, and Judith Butler, and looked forward to reading the article. As Hurst writes:

This article ultimately endeavours to demonstrate that, textually, even the most recent incarnations of the Harlequin Mills & Boon brand fail to withstand feminist scrutiny. … Something of an antidote to the Harlequin Mills & Boon romance, Bridget Jones’s Diary explicitly answers and counters many of the low-brow romance’s perceived ideological failings,

Hurst rejects the more positive reader response takes on romance that appeared after Radway, including, for example, the work of someone named Alison Light. But the author cites, not Light, but Helen Taylor’s essay, “Romantic Readers”, in From my guy to sci-fi: Genre and women’s writing in the postmodern world, edited by Helen Carr (London: Pandora Press).

To rely on other scholars too heavily is problematic for two reasons (1) it looks lazy — if you this is your field, you yourself should have read the cited work, and (2) you risk replicating scholarly mistakes, if your source has not, for example, properly cited the original source. This turns out to be a serious problem for Hurst, as you will see in a minute.

As I mentioned, Hurst says that there was a wave of reader response scholarship on romance following Radway that attempted to demonstrate that while the texts themselves are retrograde, readers put the texts to emancipatory uses. but Hurst is skeptical, noting that

This type of scholarship has ultimately facilitated some absurd analyses of
the Harlequin Mills & Boon brand, in that many of the claims that practitioners of this
approach make are hyperbolic in the extreme. In response to one such defence of the
genre*that ‘reading and writing a romance may be amongst the most subversive acts a
woman can engage in when it comes to challenging patriarchal culture’ (Modleski 1998,
66)*Tania Modleski retorts, tongue-in-cheek: ‘Right up there, I guess, with struggling for
effective sexual harassment policies, working at rape crisis centres, and protecting
abortion clinics’ (1998, 66).

I haven’t read Modelski (I know, for shame), but I knew someone who has read absolutely everything in romance scholarship … Laura Vivanco, and within .00001 seconds, I had this response:

That quote from Modleski was first published in Paradoxa in response to the other contributors to anearlier volume of Paradoxa to which Modleski had also contributed. She rips into Crusie, in particular, quoting her article repeatedly, though that’s not the article Modleski is quoting in this paragraph. Here Modleski is referring to Lynn Coddington’s article, in which Coddington paraphrases something in Deborah Chappel’s doctoral dissertation: “Deborah Chappel believes that reading and writing a romance may be among the most subversive acts a woman can engage in when it comes to challenging patriarchal culture” (59). So what we have is Hurst quoting Modleski quoting Coddington who’s paraphrasing Chappel!

I am not going to comment on Hurst’s points about Bridget Jones’ Diary, except to note that her argument for BJD’s feminist superiority to romance, depends largely on her faulty take on the romance genre. I want to focus instead on Hurst’s portrayal and dismissal of romance, and her “scholarship”.

At least thrice in the text of this article, Hurst has truncated or quoted out of context the words of an original source in order to support her points:

1. Hurst:

Jones also observes this absence, claiming, ‘woman-to-woman relationships are [invariably] tangential or fraught’ (1986, 214).

What Jones actually wrote (thanks to Laura Vivanco, who had access to the text) is this:

Another result of the centrality of the hero is that woman-to-woman relationships are tangential or fraught; although some novels represent strong families, including energetic and capable mothers, the heroine is more likely to be given a woman friend as a merely temporary confidente – or to confront heartless or amoral rivals for the hero’s love. (214)

2. Hurst again, quoting not the original, but a secondary source:

The Harlequin Mills & Boon novel posits women and men as essentially, drastically, at odds, presenting femininity as inborn. Female friendship is absent and the romance is all. Jay Dixon argues compellingly that Harlequin Mills & Boon and feminism ‘are antithetical to each
other’ (Makinen 2001, 37).

What? Jay Dixon, former Mills & Boon editor and lover of romances, wrote that? Actually, no, she didn’t. Hurst is quoting Makinen, who is quoting Dixon’s The Romance Fiction of Mills & Boon 1909-1990s. London: UCL Press, 1999.

Here’s what Dixon actually wrote:

…on the surface it might seem that romance ideology and feminist politics are diametrically opposed, except that both set out to claim for women the right to attain what they want. So, as Carolyn Smalley, a Mills & Boon copyeditor and feminist, put it: “In so far as the heroine always gets what she wants, on her terms, in a strange way, Mills & Boon’s are feminist.” Maybe it is that sense of empowerment that I, and other readers, get from both feminism in the public sphere and Mills & Boon novels in the private. (41)

In the final paragraphs of her book Dixon writes that:

a close examination of Mills & Boon texts shows how romance writers have adapted certain creeds of both the First and Second Waves of feminism to fit the dominant beliefs which their own writings exemplify. In particular, both feminist philosophy and romance ideology demand a change in the way sexual, emotional, economic and working relationships between men and women are conducted. They both have a Utopian vision of a society which puts women’s desires first, where men adapt themselves to women’s needs, and not vice versa, and where there is no perceived difference between the status and social position of men and women. Mills & Boon romances and feminism have differing political frameworks, but it may just be that under the skin they are sisters. Feminism has many faces. Perhaps romance fiction is one of them. (194-195)

Who made the error? Hurst or Makinen (Merja Makinen, Feminist Popular Fiction, Palgrave MacMillan, 2001)? I don;t have access ot all of the Makinen text (and no, I am not spending $100 on the Kindle version), but I know form Amazon’s Search Inside feature that she refers to Dixon as a “former Mills&Boon editor, feminist and avid reader of romances”, noting that Dixon claims romances “depict the difficulties specific to women in a patriarchal world” (p. 34). If I were a betting woman, I’d put my money on Hurst.

3. Hurst writes, “Merja Makinen describes the Harlequin Mills & Boon novel as ‘one of the last bastions against feminism’ (2001, 30), (Hurst, 3)

Thanks to Amazon’s search inside (again, pointer courtesy Laura Vivanco), here’s what Makinen actually wrote:

“while some romance writers saw the genre as one of the last bastions against feminism, others willingly identified themselves as feminists.”

By this point, I am not inclined to exercise any charity in interpreting Hurst’s article. Read on.

1. Hurst says she doesn’t want to take the cheap way out. She knows feminist critics of romance tend to pick the worst examples of the genre. So, she has two tactics:

In this discussion, comparisons will be limited to titles from Harlequin Mills & Boon’s
Sexy range, given their proliferation*eight are issued each month, as opposed to only six
Desire and four Temptation titles*and the fact that these are ostensibly sexually
progressive, ‘sophisticated’ takes on romance (eHarlequin n.d.).

Here Hurst is equating sexiness with progressiveness. Where did she get this crazy idea? A chaste romance is just as likely to be a feminist one as an erotic romance. Strike one for her method.

To avoid such charges, the oeuvre of Emma
Darcy* romance novelist extraordinaire, author of hundreds of Harlequin Mills & Boon
titles, founder of the Emma Darcy Award (which assists aspiring authors to complete their
manuscripts), and writer of the industry guide The Secrets of Successful Romance Writing*
has been specifically consulted, along with numerous other representative titles

Emma. Darcy? the Emma Darcy that wrote The Billionaire’s Housekeeper Mistress? and The Pleasure King’s Bride? and The Bedroom Surrender? This is the author (or authors — Emma Darcy was until 1995 a husband wife team) Hurst chose when she went looking for feminist romance novels?

Strike two for Hurst’s supposedly fair and unbiased method.

2.

Margolies notes another of feminism’s grievances against Harlequin Mills & Boon:
the heroine is unvaryingly solitary, ‘there is no sisterhood’ (1982, 9). Jones also observes
this absence, claiming, ‘woman-to-woman relationships are [invariably] tangential or
fraught’ (1986, 214). As Mairead Owen remarks, the heroine is ‘curiously socially isolated’
(1997, 541):

Here again, why is Hurst quoting other scholars’ assertions about romance novels? Hasn’t she herself ever read one? But ok, fine. Is heroine isolation categorically true? I can attest this is patently false in both the Harlequins and single title romances I read here in the States. Laura Vivanco opined it is not true with respect to the Mills & Boons she reads. What do you think?

Also, I think knowing something about category romance and the purpose of different lines may be helpful here. With a line that focuses very tightly on the relationship between hero and heroine, there just isn’t time for the kind of scope needed to introduce a cast of friends and family. I guess we can ask the question why that is, but you;d have to know something about category romance to even formulate it.

3.

Feminising processes such as depilation, cosmetic application and exercise are entirely absent from the mass-market romance. The heroine’s exaggeratedly feminine physique is an apparently natural manifestation of her gender.

Ok, first of all, one could well argue that it’s no improvement, from the perspective of a feminist critique of the beauty myth, to have chick lit heroines constantly getting waxed and tweezed. Does chick lit provide a critique of these often costly and painful processes? Do the women of chick lit toss out their flat irons, tweezer, and Jimmy Choo’s, walking barefoot, uni-browed, and frizzy into their smug married futures?

4. Hurst:

[These novels portray] … romance as a woman’s singular and supreme source of pleasure. In the Harlequin Mills & Boon novel, every single page *every paragraph* pertains to the pursuit of love.

Really? What do you think, dear reader? For my part, I love the smell of hyperbole in the morning!

5. Hurst writes:

Whereas, however, the ending
of Edge of Reason is suitably ambiguous, the final pages of Bridget Jones’s Diary reinstate
the primacy of romance:

So…ambiguity is good, but the fact that Bridget calls the year a good one, thanks to her relationship with Mr. Darcy is “arguably regressive” and “ideologically suspect”. first, we can ask, why is ambiguity better for feminist purposes? But second, this is exactly the kind of thing I meant in the first paragraph: why is romantic love “ideologically suspect” for a feminist point of view? I teach feminist theory and I don’t even know what she means. She needs to explain, is she using the framework of Simone de Beauvoir? Kate Millet? Kathryn Pauly Morgan? Sarah Hoagland? Who?

In sum, this was a real disappointment, not just in the author, but in the peer reviewers and journal editor. I’m referring here not to the faulty assumptions, bad logic, and suspect research “method”, which, alas, you can find in practically any academic journal, but in the misattributions. I think it would be terrible for Dixon and the others if these misquotes made their way into later articles. Laura and I exchanged a flurry of fast and furious emails (she was fast, I was furious) and one thing we discussed, without coming to a conclusion, was whether we (or I) had any responsibility to do more than feel angry and blog about it. What do you think?

32 responses so far

Monday Morning Stepback: Is There a Paradox of “Junk” Fiction?

Feb 07 2010 Published by under Monday Morning Stepback

1. Links:

a. I can’t do a Links of Interest section since I nuked my Google reader, but I will mention the contest I am running — the winner may choose any two books from those listed.

b. Also, on the subject of book bloggers and conferences, I discovered –or rather, Kristin of Fantasy Cafe discovered and told me about –  a new one, the Book Blogger Convention, May 28 in NYC, which overlaps with the Book Expo America.  The Keynote One featured speaker is Ron Hogan, speaking on Professionalism and Ethics in Blogging (EDITED TO ADD: thanks to Natasha from Maw Books setting me straight on that. Keynote TBA). I confess I don’t know anything about Ron Hogan, but I see that Thea of The Book Smugglers is on a panel about Marketing, and Mandi of Smexy Books is on the list of attendees. Looking around the BEA website, it looks to me like it’s for industry professionals — authors and editors and the like. The Book Blogger Convention has affiliated with BEA, and is offering admission to BEA with your BBC badge. You can enter a contest for free admission to the Book Blogger Con — contest ends Friday. It goes without saying that I am thinking about going.

EDITED TO ADD: Katiebabs had a long, informative post about these events, based on insider knowledge and her attendance in 2009. Sorry I did not see it the first time.

c. I was really shocked to read author Laura Kinsale’s comment on Dear Author’s conversational review of her new book, Lessons in French (which I still haven’t read). In response to a reviewer’s (and some responders’) comment that the book was “melancholy”, Kinsale wrote “Piffle Diffle”  and “Just. No.” and “I draw the line at melancholy”.

I’d like to say something about this, because she made a similar comment here, and I find these sorts of comment potentially chilling of the kind of discussion readers must have if fiction is to flourish in a society (note that “potentially” is a pretty generous way to interpret the intentions of someone who basically tells people to cut it out).  Authors don’t get to tell readers how to experience their books, and that is what one is doing, even when one adds “winks” and jokey asides to one’s comment. An author can say “Huh. I am really surprised you experienced the book as melancholy because that was not my intention while writing it”.  Or — and I know it sounds crazy — but one might even consider saying something like, “Huh. Maybe I didn’t write as clearly as I wanted to, if so many experienced genre readers and thoughtful people failed to hear the tone I was going for.” (I do this if a majority of my students get a quiz question wrong. I assume the fault is mine, in the way I worded it.). But telling a reader “Just. No.” and then pointing out that other (Presumably better? More careful? Smarter?) readers read it the way the author intended in order to buttress one’s view is, as she herself put it, “an author behaving badly”.

Romance readers are not passive automatons, thoughtlessly imbibing authors’ words. Reading is an interaction between reader and text, and it is unique every time. The relationship that is forged between the author and the reader requires respect on both sides.  The reviewers of Lessons in French demonstrated that respect by carefully reading the text and engaging in thoughtful dialogue with others about it. If only the author had done the same.

2. Personal

a. My work situation: Still confusing. No one knows what the hell is going on, although some signs have me thinking positively. But I found out something good:  Tenured faculty get severance pay for 18 months if let go (clearly, I have never read my contract in all these years. What a revelation!). What this means is that I do not have to job hunt right this minute. So that’s something to be not unhappy about.

b. My husband’s promotion to full professor became official this morning. He is such a hot ticket, that guy. He was tenured and promoted to associate prof a mere 24 months before he submitted his documents for full. I love you and am so proud of you! We are having a BIG PARTY!!!

3. Summary and discussion of “The Paradox of Junk fiction” Noel Carroll, Philosophy and Literature, 18(2), 1994 (p. 225-241)

“The Paradox of Junk Fiction” is an essay by Noel Carroll, a very well known philosopher of fiction and film. He defines “junk fiction” as, basically, genre fiction with “extremely limited repertoire of story types”.  Examples include Stephen King, Mary Higgins Clark, and Agatha Christie. With junk fiction “we read for story.” Junk fictions tell the same story over and over again, says Carroll, with “minor variations”. Junk fiction readers read these variations against a “well-established background of narrative forms.” The reader “knows in some sense how the story is going to go”. He writes, “If you have read one Harlequin romance, it might be argued, you have read them all. You know how it will turn out.”

(By the way, the term “junk fiction” refers to Thomas Roberts’, An Aesthetics of Junk Fiction, which I am about to read. According to Carroll, Roberts addresses a slightly different question, namely how genre readers can speak so ill of the books they love.)

So, the paradox is that people read junk fiction for the story, for the “page turning” aspect. But these readers know antecedently how the story will turn out. What to do?

Carroll rejects pretty much outright the first option, which we can call “biting the bullet”. That is, accepting the paradox as it stands and admitting that, yup, we are irrational. For example, you could take a Freudian approach and say junk fiction operates to meet some unconscious need, either wish fulfillment (he cites romance here) or manifesting deep anxieties (horror).  My problems with such Freudian interpetations are their (a) inability to be disproven, and (b) tendency to make readers passive. So I agree with Carroll here.

Another possibility is offered by Roberts, who says that junk fiction is genre reading and genre reading is system reading, it is intertextual. Reading individual stories may be simple, but the system is complex.  What interests genre readers are “convergences, contrasts and extensions” in story type. It;s the fine grained appreciation of difference genre readers seek (that the apparent heroine is killed off early on in Psycho, for example, is even more enjoyably shocking to those versed in horror, because they know it is not supposed to happen).

Carroll admits that most fans read “comparatively” in a genre, but he denies that this is the core element of junk fiction reading. Many junk fiction readers just read for story, and they don’t perform these fine grained comparison. (for example, when I chatted with a bank teller about JR Ward. she doesn’t know JR Ward wrote any other books besides the one she’s now reading, never mind the subgenre paranormal romance. so, while I am very attracted to Roberts’ theory for other reasons, I don’t think he has described all genre readers.)

But Carroll appreciates that Roberts may be on to something: maybe readers of junk fiction get other kinds of enjoyment besides narrative enjoyment out of their stories. For example, the enjoyment of  “readerly activities of interpretation and inference”. And guess what genre he uses as an example here? Romance! I almost passed out when I saw that. Carroll cites Betty Neels’ The Quiet Professor. Click on the passage below to enlarge:

Junk fiction engages the reader in a “transactional process”. As readers, we enjoy “self rewarding cognitive activity”. Readers also derive pleasure or satisfaction from a range of moral and emotional activities and judgments they make as they read.

Carroll pauses for a minute to distinguish his preferred resolution to the cultural studies’ solution of “recoding and rereading” texts. That is, readers of junk fiction don’t really read for the story the author is telling, rather they read for their own recoded version. Romance readers who read JR Ward’s Black Dagger Brotherhood as a love story between Butch and Vishous might count as recoders in this sense. But the classic example is the one Carroll uses — native peoples cheering when the white man gets killed in a western. Carroll reject this idea: he thinks lefty cultural studies folks overstate drastically the amount of resistant reading that actually occurs. And he thinks it’s better on philosophical grounds to dissolve the paradox of junk fiction using readers that are not arbitrary, but actually “proposed by the text in a structured way” (he really reveals his hand when he suggests recodings are arbitrary. I doubt they are.).

Next Carroll responds to the objection that ALL reading, even of what he calls “ambitious fiction*” (i.e. literature) is cognitively, emotionally, and morally challenging in the way junk fiction is. Carroll admits it — such fictions may even “stimulate more readerly activities” than junk fiction. “Ambitious fictions” may be more consuming, and there may be a continuum of engagement required (after all, genre fiction is meant to be easily and quickly read. But we are not to confuse this with the claim that junk fiction readers are passive. they aren’t and they can;t be, if Carroll’s proposed solution is to work), but it’s all of a piece. nevertheless, this is not a problem for his argument, he says, because all he is trying to do is dissolve the paradox of junk fiction.

[*Carroll's term "ambitious fiction" is not a helpful descriptor of non junk-fiction. I'm betting he was looking for a word for literary or modern fiction that doesn't diminish junk fiction. First of all, the jig was up when he adopted the term "junk fiction". but second, "ambition" fails utterly to distinguish literature and genre writers, since they are all about the most ambitious people you could hope to meet.  The only way "ambitious" distinguishes the two kinds of writing is if you implicitly smuggle in extra words like "ambitious to write a great novel", but you're back where you started. ]

So, to recap, a paradox occurs when two incompatible statements both seem true. In this case, it’s:

1. Junk fiction readers read for story, and if knowing the story they will lose interest in it.

2. Junk fiction readers are genre readers. Genre is formulaic, so junk fiction readers already know the story.

Carroll proposes to reject (1) as false, dissolving the paradox.

Does anyone sle see a problem with defining junk fiction as “fiction you read for story” and then arguing that “junk fiction readers don’t really read for story: they read for cognitive, emotional, and moral engagement”?

Personally, while I agree that genre fiction readers read for both story and for the other readerly activities Carroll lists, as well as for the comparative activities Roberts mentions, I would jettison #2. We don’t know the story.

What do you think?

41 responses so far

Sunday Contest: Cleaning out My Closet

Feb 07 2010 Published by under Uncategorized

I’d like to get rid of most of my paper books, and I thought I’d have a few contests to give some of them away here. These books are all “preread”, some with marks and page folds. The fact that I am giving them away doesn’t signify their worth — in many cases I really enjoyed them, and/or I also own the digital or audio versions. I’m just not a re-reader (a defect I am always trying to remedy).

This contest is only open to folks in the US or Canada.

The winner gets her choice of any two of the following (click on the cover for more about the book):

To enter, make a comment telling us the title and author of your most recent “keeper shelf” read — something you really loved, romance or not.

Contest ends midnight Eastern time Saturday 2/13. Winner announced Sunday 2/14. I’ll do another contest next week. No previous RRR winners can enter.

Happy reading!

27 responses so far

Review: Natural Law, by Joey Hill: Is BDSM Superior to Vanilla?

Feb 07 2010 Published by under Reviews

Note: This review contains material suitable for adults only.

I had read Joey Hill’s The Vampire Queen’s Servant, and didn’t much like it. Sometimes a paranormal romance is so heavy — everything is deep and earth shattering — I start to giggle. And while I have no problem understanding why a submissive male would seek a dominant female, I never could figure out why the hero in that book wanted to spend his life as a servant: it was a Big Black Hole where the motive should have been, IMO.

However, I know Joey Hill has a legion of fans, and not just in erotic romance. Readers who otherwise don’t really read erotic romance, never mind BDSM erotic romance, love her books. If you read this blog, you know I believe book reviews are objective in many ways. If a host of reviewers think an author is really good, and I don’t think she is (this is different from thinking she IS good, but just not my personal taste), I think I must be wrong, and I try again. The fact that I enjoyed Natural Law so much suggests that my system is a good one.

Natural Law is the second in Hill’s Nature of Desire series, but can be read as a standalone, which is what I did. All the Nature of Desire books are explicit erotic BDSM romance, most with female Doms. Most of the protagonists are at least loosely connected, many having spent time at The Zone, an “exclusive”, “high class”, “upscale” (and adjectives like that were so frequent in the text that I became really curious what a “low class” one looked like) BDSM nightclub.

In this book, BDSM isn’t a kink, but a sexual identity. As the heroine puts it:

D/s wasn’t a game to her. It wasn’t something she played at. In the last few years she’d been able to admit her sexual submissiveness was integral to who she was.

(Although, I must admit that at times the book did read a bit like a lesson on how not to be prejudiced against BDSM identified people.)

Mackenzie “Mac” Nighthorse is a big, brawny, rugged, successful homicide detective investigating a murder in Tampa’s BDSM community. Mac is BDSM-identified, and a submissive. The conflict in this book is not about how others can accept BDSM-identified individuals, but more about how Mac’s internal struggle to accept his own identification as a submissive (and there’s external conflict as the murder case heats up towards the end). So while the scene when Mac convinces his boss to let him go undercover at The Zone by revealing his sexual identity was very compelling reading, it merely paves the way for Mac’s introduction to Violet, a BDSM-identified Dom who is attracted to Mac the minute she sees him.

Romance novels create worlds, and just as it’s hard for me to say whether the Regency England historical romance writers create is “accurate” (as a philosopher, I would spend all my time figuring out what is meant by “accurate” anyway), it’s hard for me to say how “realistic” Hill’s portrayal of the Tampa BDSM scene is. As a reader, the world an author creates -whether it comes out of her imagination whole cloth, or is her version of a world that exists outside the novel — has to hang together, and this one did. I was fascinated, not just by the behavior and practices, but by the psychology governing them. Little things, like Violet’s immediate realization that Mac is a sub, from not only his silver cuff with onyx inlay and scrollwork, but his bearing, made the world feel very real.

A number of books telling the love story of those with marginalized sexualities focus on the inner conflict of one partner accepting his identity, or the external conflict of the outside world accepting the lovers. What I really liked about Natural Law was that neither of those categories really captures the conflict. The major issue preventing these two people who are very attracted to, and like each other, from getting together is that while Mac appears to have accepted him sub identity on the surface, one trip to the rentable private “playrooms” below the club’s glass floor reveals that he hasn’t: on some level Mac needs to keep the control in his sexual encounters, distancing himself from his own true nature and from true intimacy with Dom women. Violet nails it instantly:

You like to test yourself. That’s what you’ve used your Mistresses for. They’re just an extension of your workout, testing your skills to resist weakness.

Yes, Violet and Mac get it on … and on … in very creative ways, sometimes with partners, but the book is really about their emotions and their psychology, and that’s what makes it much more than erotica. Just as in any other romance, one partner understands the other in a way no one else ever has.

If Violet’s big insight into Mac had been “you’re a sub”, I would have rolled my eyes. It’s like an m/m where one partner teaches the other that he’s gay. I mean, can you imagine an m/f where the big breakthrough is getting the woman to admit she is hetero?* This book is beyond that, and that’s why it was good. (*I know, I know, the issues ARE a bit different for a sexual identity society tells you over and over you are not supposed to have.)

On the other hand, I am curious about why this sort of book would appeal to a kind of genre reader (i.e. me, and anyone who reads romance) with a pretty limited set of expectations about her male hero. I think in some ways Hill does in the text what Mac tries to do in his life: present a sub who … is still an alpha — EVEN, and this is key, in those moments of hard core BDSM play when he seems at his most submissive. Consider this line:

an alpha wolf who chose the role of beta in the bedroom, but only for the right woman

You have here all the earmarks of alpha masculinity that define the genre: “alpha”, “wolf”, “chooses” (he is autonomous), “only for” (again, he has control). So while I think we have in Hill’s novel a “new version of an alpha”, we don’t have a really mold breaking hero.

As I was reading Natural Law, I was asking myself why I read erotic romance at all, when I get more of an erotic charge out of a long delayed kiss in a historical romance than the marathon sexual gymnastics I encounter in erotic romance. Then it hit me: I love reading love stories, and I especially love contemporaries. I think erotic romance is some of the best contemporary romance out there, and this book is a case in point.

That’s what a good Mistress did. Break him down to the core, so he was open to her, both finding ultimate completion in a total connection of the mind with the body.

Isn’t that union of body and soul just what an HEA is in any romance? (although see a different way to read this passage below).

The other part of the book I really appreciated was Violet and Mac’s bringing their relationship out into the world beyond the BDSM community. How do a male sub and female Dom translate a relationship forged in the crucible of a rigid, clearly defined social world to regular society, especially with its opposing gender expectations? Little bits of conversation like this are indicative of what I mean:

“I want something, Mac,” she said. “Anything, Mistress.” “No. I’m…I’m not asking it that way.”

I haven’t said much about the murder subplot. I generally don’t expect much from suspense subplots in erotic romance, but actually, I was quite drawn in to this one. I had no idea whom the culprit was and was genuinely on the edge of my seat at the climax when our hero and heroine are in real danger. The book was just entertaining all the way around.

But what about the subtitle of this review? I did notice a subtle privileging of BDSM relationships as better able to get at the essence of romantic love than “vanilla” relationships. And even the word “vanilla” has a negative connotation, of boring, unimaginative, perhaps even unsatisfying sex. At one point in the text, the phrase “mundane world” is used, making the subtext text, as they say.

Here are some quotes that get at what I mean:

Sometimes, you just were what you were. Unfortunately, this was one of those things that only those who felt it would understand.

it was, in fact, beyond most people’s comprehension, like a choice of religion or lifemate.

To be given the trust of a sub… Every Mistress, every Master longs for that. It’s a gift beyond comprehension to the vanilla world. Maybe even to subs.

If I compare this language to language I have seen in m/m or used by gay men and women, it’s different. I don’t recall hearing “beyond your comprehension” when gay people talk about their sexual identity to heterosexuals. Nonetheless, it’s probably accurate.

one of the most intense forms of sexual interaction there was.

but she knew D/s went deep into the psyche of each individual, with often unpredictable reactions.

That’s what a good Mistress did. Break him down to the core, so he was open to her, both finding ultimate completion in a total connection of the mind with the body.

She knew he sensed the rousing of the Dominant in her

I put this one in there because it reminds me of books where the heroine is a wolf or shapeshifter — and the beastly part of the “essence”, the “real” part. In that sense, maybe this language has a corollary in “mate” talk in paranormals?

This place isn’t about games. It’s about getting past the games.

What does this last line imply? To me, in the context of all the other bits of text I have quoted, it implies that “vanilla” relationships are bound by mass society’s games, but BDSM relationships penetrate to the core or essence of the partners. To me, any sexual identity is social (and political) most of the way down. Why is BDSM a “natural” law while heterosexual relationships are socially constructed? And why the implicit aligning of “nature” with “essence” and “depth” here?

This is not the first BDSM romance I have read in which language is used that suggests not only that “vanilla” folks “won’t get it” — which is fine, because they usually don’t — but that “vanilla” folks are just not having the kind of relationships, sexual or otherwise, that “penetrate” or get at the “essense” or are as “psychologically deep”, or as “extreme” in some valuable way, as BDSM ones. There’s a kind of unfavorable comparison going on that makes me uncomfortable.

My personal guess — which is more than possibly wrong, so please share alternative views — is that BDSM identified folks are so sick of others telling them they are merely playing games, that BDSM is a “kink” that is merely a break from “vanilla”, and has nothing to do with who they are, the way a heterosexual or homosexual identity does, that this language is meant in some way to emphatically combat that, and portray BDSM as essence, not experiment.

But in doing so, heterosexual identity is “othered” in a way I don’t appreciate overly much. You can’t dismantle the master’s house with the master’s tools, not even if they’re whips and chains.

I’ve rambled on long enough. But this book was a lot of fun to read — a quick read actually – and also gave me a lot to think about. Can’t ask for more than that.

17 responses so far

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