Archive for: November, 2011

CFP: Monsters and the Monstrous

Nov 30 2011 Published by under Uncategorized

Some readers might be interested to know of this upcoming conference. More info here.

Call for Papers:

For this 10th Anniversary of the Monsters and the Monstrous Project we are looking forward to the future, and so are starting from Franco Moretti’s comment that “the monster expresses the anxiety that the future will be monstrous.” Our focus then will be on Monsters of the Future, no matter from which time or place that future is viewed. So whether the present is Medieval, Renaissance, Enlightenment, Romantic, Modernist or Post Modernist it is the ways that, as further noted by Moretti, a “new order of beings” makes manifest the terror of an unknown and uncontrollable tomorrow and the forms these creatures take.

As such the monster becomes not the return of the repressed but an immanent Imaginary that constantly harasses and harangues the borders of the Real. Just as Grendel, Caliban, Frankenstein’s Monster, Dr. Moreau’s creatures and the clones from Blade Runner can be seen to manifest a hybrid future that blurs the borders between human/non-human, the humane and the in-humane, the converse is equally true where the tomorrow they envision is as much degenerative as it is evolutionary. Here, as in Wells’ the Time Machine, or Lovecraft’s Mountains of Madness, the future is in fact a portal to the past and that the true anxiety we feel is not for inevitable change but for a monstrous stasis that, like the vampire, will lock us forever in a never-ending present (not unlike Wittgenstein’s immortality of the never-ending moment). This then is a call for monstrous visions of the future, whether it is a new and alien land or one that is only too familiar; for the Post-Human, the Non-Human and the Anti-Human, the Robot, the Golem and the Cyborg, the Pure-bred, the Hybrid and the Mudblood, the Unborn, the Unliving and the  Undead.

Papers, reports, work-in-progress, workshops and pre-formed panels are invited on issues related to any of the following themes:

Monstrous Places/Spaces of the Future:
~The city, the town, the home of the future.
~Environmental disasters, global warming, nuclear meltdowns, plagues and terra incognito.
~Dystopias/utopias
~New Worlds, forgotten worlds, undiscovered worlds: Atlantis, Shangri-la. Eldorado

Human Monsters:
~Medical experimentation, cloning, reproduction.
~Cyborgs, robots and inanimate bodies made real
~Hybrids, both real and supernatural, post-human and beyond human.
~Evolution and degeneration
~Actual bodies and supernatural bodies.
~Monsterisation of the human body: fragmentation, surgical modification and bodies without organs

Monstrous Aliens & Alien Invaders:
~Invasions of unknown beings, conquistadors, Martians, heavenly or alien life forms.
~Humans as invaders, Starship Troopers, Iain M. Banks’ The Culture
~Parasites, diseases, flora and influences

Monstrous Generations:
~The glorification of Youth, Logan’s Run and In Time.
~Monstrous adolescents.
~Demonic children and alien babies.
~Middle-aged zombies and serial killers, possessed grandparents
~Romantacising the Monster: Paranormal Romance, dark lovers and heroes, Twilight, Vampire Diaries and Dexter.

Monstrous Politics:
~Protest, revolt and revolution
~Zombie Capitalism and undead labour
~Class, status and the aristocracy
~Post colonialism, diasporas and migration.
~Ageism, sexism, health-ism and separatism e.g, District 9, Metropolis, Matrix, Daybreakers.

Papers can be accepted which deal solely with specific monsters. This project will run concurrently with our project on The Erotic– we welcome any papers considering the problems or addressing issues on Monsters and The Erotic for a cross-over panel. We also welcome pre-formed panels on any aspect of the monstrous or in relation to crossover panel(s).
300 word abstracts should be submitted by Friday 16th March 2012. If an abstract is accepted for the conference, a full draft paper should be submitted by Friday 22nd June 2012. Abstracts should be submitted to the Organising Chairs.

Details on submissions here.

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Review: Slow Dancing on Price’s Pier, by Lisa Dale

Nov 27 2011 Published by under Reviews

I met Lisa Dale at a conference, and when I realized this novel was set in Newport, RI, my childhood stomping grounds, I figured I had to read it. I Kindled it ($9.99, unfortunately, but the mmpb is $6.99) and found it very hard to put down. Slow Dancing (Penguin, April 2011, 368 pages) is a contemporary novel which has very strong romantic elements. Here’s the blurb:

A family learns that time can erase mistakes when the heart remains true- from a refreshing new storyteller.

Fifteen years ago, Garret Sorensen’s family, trust, and heart were destroyed when Thea Celik betrayed him and married his brother. Now they are divorcing. Garret’s ready to finally mend his relationship with his brother. But being back in Newport, Rhode Island, triggers a lot of memories-all leading back to Thea.

Thea’s not ready to let go of the Sorensens-even if it means being around Garret. As they cautiously circle around each other-finding themselves drawn together-they realize following their hearts could cast them adrift.

The novel begins in the present day, when Thea, the daughter of Turkish immigrants who stayed in Newport to run the family coffee shop after they returned home, is contemplating her impending divorce from Jonathan Sorensen, her husband of ten years, with whom she has a daughter, ten year old Irina. But the novel very quickly delves back to Thea’s childhood, when she met brainy Jonathan and his athletic younger brother Garret for the first time. Both stories unfold simultaneously, shifting back and forth. I don’t mind flashbacks, and these were in chronological order and not hard to follow, but I know some readers just despise them.

Price’s Pier is about Thea and Jonathan’s negotiation of their divorce, including Irina’s rocky adjustment, Thea’s attempts to establish a new relationship with the Sorensen family — who had been her surrogate parents ever since her own mother and father went back to Turkey — and Thea’s relationship with Garret, who has despised her since high school for reasons that do not become clear until late in the novel.

As someone who grew up in the area, I was pleased with how well Dale portrayed Newport and its many subcultures. Thea’s coffee shop caters to the blue collar locals, but the Sorensens, a wealthy family, move in circles that include summering “cottage people.”. Then there are the throngs of day trippers and college students moving in and out of the scene as the seasons change. The class difference between Thea’s family and the Sorensen’s was never an “issue” in the book, but Thea’s heritage, and its connection to coffee (developed in part by chapter-opening bits from her column in The Newport Examiner) added interest. On the other hand, I will say that although I was born and raised in the area, I never met a Turkish immigrant, although I met several descendants of Armenians who fled Turkish persecution. So, to me, Thea’s ethnicity (and the use of “Turkey” as a way to signify ethnicity) seemed an odd choice. Could there be a lone Turkish family who moved to Newport in the 1970s? Of course. But I don’t think it would been a typical pattern (there was no community to join) so some back story might have been nice.

Although much of the focus of Price’s Pier is on Thea and Garret finding their way back to love, it’s hard to say this is a traditional romance novel, since she had been married to his brother for a decade, and has a child with him. I just don’t see that happening in a straight romance. Thea and Jonathan had tried to do the right thing and make their marriage work, but they married for all the wrong reasons, most of them having to do with Garret. I did find myself wondering how this situation could have gone on for an entire decade. And how Garret, now a successful businessman, could have basically put his emotional life on hold all that time as well. I would have been happier with five years. On the plus side, the length of journey gave the book a melancholy and regretful tone — sometimes mistakes are made, and they can never be undone, even with an HEA –  that felt refreshing. I also think the expanded focus, not just on Thea and Garret, but on Jonathan’s recovery from the divorce, and his attempts to renew his relationship with Garret, from whom he had been basically estranged, make this more straight contemporary fiction than romance. On the other hand, all of the major characters were flawed to a point that went a little beyond my comfort zone for a believable romance.

The romance between Thea and Garret is pretty compelling stuff, both in its high school and adult forms. One high school scene in particular broke my heart. I thought their adolescent love was handled really well, neither trivializing their feelings, nor portraying the teenaged Thea and Garret as any more mature than they were. Here’s an excerpt:

[Garret] adjusted his legs beneath hers, denim sliding along denim. The surf whispered, and the moonlight caught the froth of the waves. The future was coming for them. Probably, their lives as adults would separate them. When Garret went away to college, he would leave Thea behind. He would be going to parties and meeting girls, and she would be here in Newport, making small talk with the regulars who came into her parents’ coffee shop. He would be staying up late at night to study or making midnight trips to the supermarket; she would be calling it quits at 9 pm because she had to wake at dawn.

Some couples made it through the transition into adulthood. They went on to say they married their high school sweethearts. Those people were lucky. But not the norm.

He wondered: If he and Thea were the real thing—were really in love—could they do it? Could they make it through whatever the years had in store?

On the water, a boat moved slowly—one winking light against the darkness.

“Thea?”

She nestled closer without waking.

Regardless of what love was or wasn’t, Thea had altered his plans. He closed his eyes, airplanes gliding silently along the black sky, the cooling earth pushing the breeze out to the sea. The moment was perfect. He wanted to wake Thea up, to say “You don’t want to miss this.” But then it occurred to him, she was this—everything that was beautiful about the moment. He guessed that’s what the poets were trying to say.

If you hate love triangles, flashbacks, and the expanded cast of characters included in so-called “women’s fiction”, Slow Dancing on Price’s Pier is perhaps not the best choice for you. But if you are in the mood for a second chance at love story that tries to do a bit more than that, you might give it a try.

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Review: Knaves’ Wager, by Loretta Chase

Nov 26 2011 Published by under Reviews

I have read and enjoyed several Loretta Chase romances. The Carsington brothers series, The Last Hellion, Lord of Scoundrels, and Your Scandalous Ways. But I had never read her early Regencies, and had an interest in the reformed rake tale Knaves Wager, published by Avon in 1990, and reissued by Signet with The Sandalwood Princess in 2005. So when Miranda Neville offered to send me her copy, I was thrilled.

 

I had an absolute ball reading Knaves’ Wager. It opens in March 1814, as Mrs. Charles Davenant, a twenty-eight year old widow, is preparing to chaperone her niece, Cecily Davenant, through her first Season. Lilith Davenant is known for her perfect comportment and cool, imperturbable demeanor.  With classical features and a slim, straight, and strong physique, she “bore such a stunning resemblance to a marble statue that it was a wonder she had a pulse.”  Lilith has successfully paired off three older nieces already. Her husband, a charming but irresponsible gambler and drinker, died seven years ago, leaving her in debt to his partner in debauchery, the Marquess of Brandon. On the way to London, they come upon a carriage wreck, and rescue the gentleman pinioned by his curricle. Lilith orders her man to extricate him, and they all end up at a local inn for the night. She checks in on him (I know, I know) and he takes an immediate interest in her, and she just as immediate a dislike of him. They have this delightful exchange:

He smiled lazily. “And such eyes, Athena.”

“Indeed. One on either side of my nose. A matching set, quite common in the human countenance.”

“The Hellespont in a summer storm.”

“Blue. A common colour among the English.” She moved to the door.

“Really? They seem most uncommon to me. Perhaps you are right — but I cannot be certain until you come closer.”

“You are shortsighted…?” she asked as she opened the door. “Then it is no wonder you drive your curricle into a ditch. Perhaps in the future you will remember to don your spectacles.”

She heard a low crack of laughter as the door closed behind her.

When Lilith discovers who he is, of course, she hates him even more. Her accountant explains that the Marquess will not accept her attempts to repay him for her husband’s debts, and instead of being delighted, she redoubles her efforts. In the meantime, although Lilith has no wish to marry, she accepts the proposal of a baronet, Sir Thomas Bexley, a man with whom she shares “tastes and personalities”, in order to provide the funds to see her remaining nieces through their Seasons.

When the Marquess — Julian — arrives in London, he discovers that his nephew Robert is infatuated with his French mistress, Elise, and has promised to marry her. Of course, no such marriage can happen, but Robert cannot be talked out of it, so Brandon tries to reason with Elise. She offers him a wager: seduce Madame Davenport within eight weeks — “an absurdly generous amount of time” in Julian’s estimation–  and she will release Robert from his agreement. Fail, and his family leaves her and Robert alone. Since Julian had “fully intended” to seduce Lilith, this is a wager he cannot resist.

The lengths to which Julian goes to effect this seduction surprised and delighted me. He pays off her servants to keep track of her comings and goings. He gets her driver drunk so she has to get a ride home from an affair with him. He even bribes a clerk to block an aisle so she would be forced to interact with him.

But, of course, Lilith is one tough cookie, cool as a cucumber, and always ready with a witty comeback. Julian unsettles her, makes her aware of her body and its desires in a way she has never been. But after two kisses, about which she is mortified, she sets a firm boundary and they settle into a wonderful friendship, which grows at each social event, as her betrothed spends all of his time arguing politics in smoky rooms. I was thrilled that the focus in this book was on the relationship, and not the sexual tension, or the sex. As Lilith opens up bit by bit, Julian finds himself, paradoxically, more and more interested in her, and liking her more and more.

Julian sees in Lilith the woman she hides, the sensuous and funny and interesting person. Indeed, as their relationship grows, she begins taking more care with her appearance, forgoing severe hairstyles for those that showcase her luxuriant red curls and corset free figure (I know, I know). Julian cannot for the life of him figure out why Lilith would marry stuffy old Bexley. Here’s an example of the kind of discussion they have that reveals her character:

“You are a coxcomb,” she said.

“If I were, I should not have been surprised at your knowledge of my dance partners. Yet I’m altogether amazed… and flattered. This is a far cry from invisibility.”

She returned his gaze, her face expressionless. “When I cross the street,” she said, “I look up to make certain no vehicles are bearing recklessly down upon me. I also look down, to make sure no noisome object lies in my path. I have found it necessary in recent weeks to observe similar precautions at social events.”

He laughed. “A reckless vehicle is apt enough—but the other? I am put in my place, just goddess. Your hair curls naturally, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said, uncomfortable to find the talk redirected so speedily to her person.

“I thought so. You’ve never had to suffer the indignities of curl papers or scorching tongs.”

“Not those, no.”

“But others? What were they? Steel corsets when you were but a babe?”

“We will not speak of such garments, if you please,” she said in her best grande dame manner. “I meant applications of lemon juice, three times a day, day after day, week in and week out.”

“Ah, freckles” he said. “Ghastly things.”

“Well, they were.”

“Don’t be silly, I’m sure you were adorable with your freckles.”

“I was not remotely adorable. I was too tall and too skinny, and my hair was too red, and I had forty-seven freckles upon my nose alone.”

“Then I wonder they never stood you in a field to frighten away the birds. You might have made yourself useful,” he said in tones of reproof. “Still, it is a relief to know you, too, had a misspent youth.”

She bit her lip, but the vision of a gawky, adolescent Lilith standing haplessly in a field of newly seeded corn was too much for her, and what began as a titter swelled into laughter.

“Mrs. Davenant,” he said sternly, “a misspent youth is nothing to be giggling about.”

“A scarecrow,” she said, still smiling. “Isn’t it odd that I’m one now? Flapping my arms to frighten off any wicked gentlemen birds from my nieces.”

“Protecting the tender young crop.”

“Yes.”

“Someone must, I suppose.”

“Yes.” Her smile faded. The mischief was gone from his eyes, and compassion had taken its place.

“That is why,” he said almost inaudibly.

She pretended not to hear, though she knew what he meant and what she had, unwittingly, revealed to his too-keen perceptions.

Thomas will be wondering what’s become of me,” she said coolly enough, though her voice sounded shrill to her ears.

 

So often, I read that this or that book has “witty banter” or “intelligent dialogue” and cannot agree. If you like that sort of thing, this is a book chock full of it.

In the meantime, a secondary romance brews between Robert and Cecily which is so sweet and funny that it was possibly worth its own book. Cecily, who comes off as a silly chit, is actually much more discerning and mature than she appears.

Hanging over the book is the wager, and the question of when and whether Julian’s feelings become more than an attempt to win a bet. I’m now a pretty seasoned romance reader, and even to me, it was not easy to tell where the rake Julian ended and the real Julian began.  Things have to come to a head eventually — both sexually, and in terms of the wager — and boy do they ever.

If you don’t want to be spoiled, stop reading here. Suffice to say I found this a beautifully written, mature, funny and emotional read, that, admittedly, breaks no new ground on the reformed rake and repressed widow love story, but does it so well you don’t even care.

SPOILER AHEAD:

Lilith, after finding out about the wager, receives Julian at her home in order to cut him. I think her last line to him is one of my favorites in all of romance:

And at last he was shown into the drawing room. He was not surprised to find her alone. He was surprised to discover she was not dressed to go out. She wore a plain brown frock, and her hair was braided tight about her head. Deep shadows ringed her eyes. As he moved eagerly across the room to her, he saw as well that she’d been weeping. A chill of anxiety ran through him.

“My love,” he said, holding out his hands.

She retreated a step. Her white face set into taut lines and her posture stiffened.

“You will not touch me,” she said. “You will not say another word. I meet you this once only to tell you our acquaintance is at an end. Henceforth, I do not know you.”

The chill clawed at his heart now. “Lilith.”

She turned and pulled the bell-rope. “Cawble will show you out. Good day, my lord.”

“Lilith! What is this?” He reached for her hands, but she moved back another step and folded them tightly before her.

“This is how you lose a wager, my lord,” she said.

He felt the blood rushing to his face.

“Good God,” he breathed. “You must…”

The door opened, and Cawble appeared. “Madam?”

“His lordship is leaving, Cawble.”

END SPOILER

There are a few complaints I could offer: the mistress, Elise, for example, as well as Bexley, are pretty “conveniently” characterized. But I was so pleased with the restraint of this novel, not just in the sexuality, but the things that motivated the characters (no, she wasn’t abused to within an inch of her life to explain her lack of warmth; no death of a beloved sibling/lover/comrade in arms to explain his rakishness, etc.) that I tended to overlook them.

Julian does lose the wager, of course, for reasons that will be familiar to readers of Jennifer Crusie’s Bet Me. Their reconciliation is absolutely lovely and very much in keeping with the tone of their relationship (“We’ve descended into melodrama”, says Julian at one point during their betrothal scene). Now when people say, as they so often do, “I just love Loretta Chase’s early Regencies”, I can smile and nod along in total happy agreement.

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Seeking M/M romance recs for Ham/mukah

Nov 24 2011 Published by under Uncategorized

It’s that time of year again. Yup, it’s the worst named and most absurdly conceived “holiday” since Festivus. It’s HAM/MUKAH!!!!

Every December, I try to read some non-hetero romance. My goal is to read 8 novellas, novels or short stories, and post reviews for eight days. I’ve never actually managed all eight days (I think I did 6 last year), but it’s worth the attempt for the great recs and great reads.

I’m trying to get an early start since I will away — far away — on vacation pretty much the entirety of Hanukkah, which begins at sundown on December 20.

So, have you read any great m/m in 2011? Care to share?

Thanks! And, if you celebrate, HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

 

 

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Review: I Who Have Never Known Men, by Jacqueline Harpman

Nov 23 2011 Published by under Reviews

In the comments on an earlier post on Ursula LeGuin’s “The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas”, Marie-therese and Merrian encouraged me to read I Who Have Never Known Men, and boy am I glad they did. What a terrific book.

Harpman, born in 1929, is Belgian. She’s half-Jewish, and her family fled Belgium for Casablanca during the war, but she eventually returned home. She published her first novel in 1958 after quitting medical school due to tuberculosis. She stopped writing after her fourth book was published, to return to fiction 20 years later. Harpman has been, since 1980, a psychoanalyst, and I Who Have Never Known Men, published in French in 1996 (my English translation is by Ros Schwartz, 1997), is her tenth novel. She has since written a half dozen more.

[Note: this review contains "spoilers" -- although my personal view of the novel is that that word doesn't really apply.]

As the book begins, the first person narrator grieves for a someone names Althea, whom she has lost. She tells us:

Never before had I been so devastated. I would have sworn it could not happen to me; I had seen women trembling, crying, and screaming, but I had remained unaffected by their tragedy, a witness of impulses which I found unintelligible, remaining silent even when I did what they asked of me to assist them. True, we were all caught up in the same drama that was so powerful, so all-embracing that I was unaware of anything that was not related to it, but I had come to think that I was different. And now, as I was racked with sobs, I was forced to recognize, much too late, that I too had loved, that I could suffer, and that, after all, I was human.

IWH begins at the end (“As I write these words, my tale is over.”), and offers a tantalizing view of a devastating past and a compelling present. The narrator tells us that “I never thought about the past, I lived in a perpetual present and I was gradually forgetting my story.” Harpman’s tendency to use commas where other writers would use periods, as in that last passage, enhances that feeling of “perpetual present.”

After thinking “nothing had happened to me”, she changes her mind, deciding that “if I was a human being, my story was as important as that of King Lear, or Prince Hamlet.” We learn later that the narrator’s physical journey has long since ended, but this assertion represents the culmination of the narrator’s psychological journey, which is really the more important one. Her determination to tell her story is much more than a way to pass the lonely time or a moral obligation to future generations: it constitutes her very humanity. As Salman Rushdie has put it:

We tell ourselves into being, don’t we? I think that is one of the great reasons for stories. I mean, we are the storytelling animal, there is no other creature on earth that tells itself stories in order to understand who it is. This is what we do; we’ve always done it, whether they are religious stories or personal stories, or tall stories, or lies, or useful stories, we live by telling each other and telling ourselves the stories of ourselves.

As the narrator tells her story, we realize that her existence was very unusual. She writes, “as far back as I can recall, I have been in the bunker. Is that what they mean by memories?. then, “Obviously I cannot ay how old I was.” and, “I was bad tempered all the time, but I was unaware of it, for I did not know the words for describing moods.”

We learn slowly that the narrator, as a child, was brought to an underground bunker with a group of adult women, and has lived there ever since. There are no walls, only bars, and watchful, silent male guards circle constantly. The women are not allowed to touch one another. Their toilet is in the middle of the room. As she puts it, “nobody ever escaped scrutiny.” This doesn’t bother our narrator. Indeed, she mocks the women who recall their early attempts to shield themselves form others as they relieved themselves:

the old women cursed furiously, they spoke of the indignity of being reduced to the level of animals. If the only thing that differentiates us form animals is the fact that we hide to defecate, then being human rests on very little at all, I thought.

Interestingly, there is no threat of sexual abuse, and while the guards do carry, and sometimes menacingly crack, whips, no one is physically abused. Rather, the bulk of the suffering comes from the confinement, the monotony, the mystery.

Our narrator realizes that she will never know the things the adult women know: the jobs, the families, pleasant things like kittens, going on holiday, and especially, men. In an interesting reversal, she makes an object of one of the young guards, watching him relentlessly, and developing a rich inner fantasy life about him. Her fantasies coalesce into detailed romantic narratives, as sexual as she can manage given her ignorance of men and of sex, bringing her “an eruption so overwhelming, and extraordinary burst of light.” This becomes her “secret”, something the other women demand to know. Their humanity has become so altered in confinement that the concept of a hidden inner life is as foreign as that of hiding something physical.

So, in some ways, IWH is a coming of age story, but this narrator, who has only known captivity, comes of age in a way that puts her powerfully at odds with the other women, giving her both weaknesses and strengths.

The book rapidly changes course when a loud alarm sounds and the guards, who had been in the process or giving the women their daily food rations, disappear. It is the narrator alone who is not stunned into submission by the noise and the disconcerting feeling of not being watched. She has the presence of mind to grab the key and unlock the door. They escape.

Unfortunately for the SFF reader who is hoping for some answers, none are forthcoming. The landscape is just as foreign as the bunker was. The women have no idea how they got there or where they are. And they have no idea where to go. Thus begins a long journey, which is, in its way, as monotonous and devoid of meaning as was existence in the bunker. It’s the journey, not the imprisonment, that is the hardest to take, psychologically, for the reader.

If this novel were written by an existential philosopher in the first half of the twentieth century, perhaps there would be an overt lesson about creating one’s own meaning. Certainly, when the narrator decides to take time back — a true revolt, as the guards manipulated schedules to confuse the women — by counting her own heartbeats, Heidegger’s meditations of being and time become more than salient:

The key to Heidegger’s understanding of time is that it is neither simply reducible to the vulgar experience of time, nor does it originate in distinction from eternity. Time should be grasped in and of itself as the unity of the three dimensions – what Heidegger calls “ecstases” – of future, past and present. This is what he calls “primordial” or “original” time and he insists that it is finite. It comes to an end in death.

Certainly there is some of the existential exhortation to create one’s own meaning in the narrator’s assumption of leadership of the group, their making a home for themselves, and her final determination to tell her story. But all of the psychological triumphs happen against such a bleak narrative — no answers, no hope, the members of the group dying one by one — that it’s hard to feel a sense of triumph. There’s just endurance.

This book never felt like a slog, though. I found it difficult to put down. Yes, part of that was wanting to know what would happen to the narrator, why the women were confined, where everyone else went, all the usual dystopian fiction questions. (And if you need answers, this book is not for you. In fact, if you really need answers, this will almost certainly be a wallbanger.) But the real intrigue was the psychology of the characters, the way the narrator grew and changed, how an all-woman community organizes itself and negotiates life without men.

I loved the writing, but — and this is always the hardest part for me in a book review — it is hard to say how. It is very practical and realistic, while somehow evoking more. Here’s one example:

One morning, as I was returning from the village laden with cans of food, I was struck by her absent air. It was the season when it rains the least, I had put the bench outside the door, and I found her sitting there, staring into space. For years, her eyesight had been poor: now, she was gazing into the distance without even screwing up her eyes, although she said this helped her distinguish things. Her hands were resting on her thighs, but upside down, with her palms upturned, as if she had forgotten to turn them over, which made her look strange, neglected, a woman thrown there whom nobody had taken the trouble to tidy up, like a garment dropped in a hurry lying crumpled on the floor.

As you can guess from the passage, the narrator’s youth relative to the age of the other women becomes an important feature of her existence, and of the plot.

Although I disagree with other reviewers who wanted more closure at the end (I think the feeling of being unfinished is central to the themes of the novel), I do think some things were picked up and put down in a more haphazard way than I might have liked. The early emphasis on sex and men, for example, disappears, never to return. And what the women remember about their pre-captivity lives seemed a little artificially constrained by authorial intrusion. But overall, I loved this book, and I know I will return to it again and again.

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Guest post and giveaway: Jessica Scott on It’s Just a Romance Novel

Nov 20 2011 Published by under Genre musings

I’m delighted to welcome romance writer Jessica Scott, whose debut  Because of You was just released this month from Loveswept. Jessica is a career soldier with 16 years in the Army, who blogged for PBS Point of View from Afghanistan and Iraq. Jessica is now a company commander in charge of 130 soldiers, and a mom to two, whose husband continues to serve in Iraq. Jessica also hails from Maine!

 

Here’s the blurb:

Keeping his men alive is all that matters to Sergeant First Class Shane Garrison. But meeting Jen St. James the night before his latest deployment makes Shane wonder if there’s more to life than war. He leaves for Iraq remembering a single kiss with a woman he’ll never see again- until a near fatal attack lands him back at home and in her care.  Jen has survived her own brush with death and endured its scars. And yet there’s a fire in Shane that makes Jen forget all about her past. He may be her patient, but when this warrior looks her in the eyes, she feels – for the first time in a long time – like a woman. Shane is too proud to ask for help, but for Jen, caring for him is more than a duty -it’s a need. And as Jen guides Shane through the fires of healing, she finds something she never expected – her deepest desire.

Because of You is getting great reviews. Here’s Mandy Schreiner at USA Today:

Because of You is full of angst and traumatic moments, suspenseful situations and a few steamy romance scenes. I’m really starting to get into military romances, and I think Jessica Scott has done a great job balancing everything in this book. It is heart-wrenching as you watch not only the hero and heroine struggle, but all of the supporting characters as well. But it also makes you smile as you see them triumph. I can’t wait for her next book!

***

And the Bookpushers:

Ms Scott surpassed my expectations regarding the inclusion of military culture and she provided me with a touching, entertaining read. I was fully invested in her characters and a certain sequence of events about broke my heart. When I reached the last page I kept trying to move to the next page because I wanted to see what happens next. I am eagerly awaiting the next installment in her trilogy. I give Because of You an A.

***

And Dear Author

The two wounded souls seeking comfort and peace will be appealing to many readers and the fast paced non stop drama adds a different flavor to this military romance. The war scenes were highly charged and I appreciate the unflinching look at how awful it must be over in Iraq and Afghanistan.

***

I have always loved romance novels. Since I was a kid and my grandmother first got me hooked on them starting out with Danielle Steel. Something happened in my twenties and I stopped reading them. Nora Roberts’ Dance Upon Air brought me back to the romance fold and I’ve happily been back ever since. But it was only around 2007 that I started wanting to write a book and it turned into, well, a romance novel.

Just a romance novel.

Look I get it. Romance writers are never going to be the cool kids winning literary awards and getting lots of respect. In my home chapter of Austin RWA, we’re talking about needing a new location because our current location a) doesn’t sell our books and b) looks down on us like we’re somehow beneath them. And yet, the Austin RWA is the most amazing chapter that spend so much time and effort mentoring up and coming authors. No question is ever ignored, no matter how many times it’s been heard. Time is spent on critique sessions and work groups and retreats, all to build the next generation of writers.

A lot of folks have asked me if the guys I work with know I’ve written and sold a romance novel. Yeah, a few of them do. And you know what? They’re pretty cool about it. Of course, I liven it up with a few jokes about the dick jokes in there but am I really just bending to the tacit disapproval on their faces? For example, the other day at Barnes and Noble Café this happened:

 

Café Guy: Whoa that’s a lot of money for chocolate

Me: I’m celebrating. My book came out today (shows him picture of USA Today review)

Café Guy: Oh it’s one of those. What did it ship?

Me: (smiling politely) well don’t knock it, you know? Still took almost five years to write and sell.

Café Guy: Oh wait you wrote it? High five.

 

Now he was nice enough once he realized I had written it and he did make my latte extra yum. But still. When I was in Iraq, Karin Tabke posted over on MurderSheWrites about a woman who suffered from FGM (female genital mutilation) who said that reading one of Karin’s novels inspired her to believe she could heal and love again. That is amazing. To be able to give that kind of hope to someone? And yet, Café Guy and far too many others look down on it as unworthy. You know what he and every other person out there will never get to see? They never get to see this:

The author is career military herself, and the story is really touching

about a soldier who was injured in Iraq and a woman who nursed him when he

got back to the states. Both of them have scars, his from his wounds and

her’s from a recent mastectomy.

 

Probably because I’ve also had breast cancer and disfiguring surgery, I

can identify with her, but I was really impressed with the sensitivity the

author displayed in dealing with the situation.

 

I’m only half way thru – but I’d highly recommend it!

 

I’ve written a lot. I blogged from Iraq. But this was quite possibly one of the nicest things anyone could have said about my “trashy” romance novel.

That’s pretty powerful stuff folks. People who want to knock down romance as a genre may get to feel better because they don’t read those books. I have books on my shelf that I have had for over 20 YEARS. That’s powerful. When a book sticks with you, no matter what the genre, no matter who the author, that’s powerful.

Romance is powerful. It’s powerful enough to show women that hey, all guys aren’t immature pricks who can’t hold a full conversation. Places like Jack’s Bar on Robyn Carr’s website are a place where romance readers can get together virtually and connect. You have no idea what’s going on in someone’s life. That may be their only outlet into something positive. And it started with a book.

I don’t mean to go on a rant but as a brand new author, I’m seeing something completely unexpected. As a reader, I’ve known that author’s books impacted me.

I just never expected to have that same impact and it is an honor and a privilege to have just one person tell me that my book, my trashy novel with a half naked man on the cover that got banned by facebook ads, touched their lives.

That one email made the last four plus years journey worth while.

***

Thanks, Jessica! I’d like to offer a copy of Because of You to one commenter from your e-tailer of choice. US only (sorry!). Comment by Tuesday midnight EST for a chance to win.

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Links! Nora in The Guardian, Stephanie Laurens is repetitive, FridayReads drama, Transgender Day of Remembrance

Nov 20 2011 Published by under Links

I’m in the throes of preparing for Thanksgiving, but here is a quick links post:

Nora Roberts is profiled in the Guardian. It is the typical focus on her sales, output, work ethic, and personal history, with some expanded defense of the genre. Except for overuse (by which I mean a number of uses greater than zero) of the word “feisty”, a fun read.

***

More coverage of the romance genre, as Brisbane’s Sunday Courier Mail profiles several romance novelists. I love this article, because it highlights a reader-reviewer, Kate Cuthbert (@katididnoz on Twitter), as well as making clear that different romance writers write different kinds of books (Anna Campbell reflecting on her rejection by Mills & Boon, says “Perhaps my style of writing didn’t suit Mills & Boon,” says Campbell. “I suppose I am more of an ‘epic’ type of writer. (But) I loved the escapism they brought to me as a child.”) [via @Bookthingo].

***

Drama erupted on Twitter Friday as the fact that the #Fridayreads folks take money from publishers to feature certain books upset the folks who thought it was a reader-only phenomenon. RambleRamble has a short post on it, including a mention of some other ways publishers pay for readers to see their books, as does Katherine Catmull.

It’s true that this information was in the FridayReads.com FAQ, which is great. But I suppose I am in the same boat as most people, in that I had no idea there was a FridayReads blog, nor a FAQ. So it is probably a good thing that the disclosure happened in the place most people engage with FridayReads.

I’m not sure who fired the first salvo in this drama, but I do know that a few days prior, author Jennifer Weiner was tweeting angry tweets about #fridayreads because the same folks are involved with a book site, Book Riot, the latter of which mentioned her in an unflattering way (the post was Why aren’t Jennifer Weiner and Jodi Picoult pissed at Jeffrey Eugenidies?).

***

It’s the 13th annual Transgender Day of remembrance. Stats on why this day is needed from The F Word. See Transgender.org for more.

***

Here’s a post by writer James Buchanan on Presentation, Perception, and Reality. Buchanan, a multipublished author of gay romance, identifies as a Dom, a gender bender, and a bisexual.

***

A very funny Breaking Dawn summary. With dolls.

***

And a roundup of the seven harshest reviews of the movie from Time.

***

Liz at Something More is blogging about the experience of listening to Stephanie Laurens on audio. Liz distinguishes pleasurable and unpleasurable types of repetition.

***

A nice Wall Street Journal story on Epic (really loooong) Marriages and how they work.

***

Martin Scorcese is bringing Jo Nesbo’s The Snowman to the big screen.

Happy Sunday!

 

3 responses so far

Eloisa James’ Keynote for the McDaniel Popular Romance Conference

Nov 19 2011 Published by under Academia, Genre musings

The keynote address for the conference Popular Romance in the New Millennium was given by Mary Bly, English Professor at Fordham University, whose research focuses on early modern drama. Bly is better known in the romance community as Eloisa James, NYT bestselling author.

The first night of the conference began with champagne and french fries. Pam Regis, conference host, told everyone that the fries were in honor of Nora Roberts, whose donation to McDaniel College made the conference possible. Roberts once said that “a day without french fries is like a day without an orgasm”, which explains the name of one of Roberts’ online fan communities, ADWOFF.

What follows are my notes, which are not complete. It’s impossible to convey things like transitions and a sense of the whole via hastily scribbled notes. I’ve tried to convey not just the words, but the sense of the words, and I made sure my summary meshed with Tweets from others who were there, but I’m fallible, so any corrections from folks who were there are appreciated. You can check out the hashtag on Twitter, #mcdromance, and read Smart Bitch Sarah Wendell’s reflections on the conference, here.

James began with the point that things are in flux, in scholarship, the genre, and in publishing. She noted that she chaired the committee for the RWA academic research grant for several years, and has seen the growth of romance scholarship across the globe. The genre is so mutable it is hard to write about. (later in the talk she name checked Suzanne Brockmann for doing interesting things with the novel.)

At the same time, book stores are disappearing. She heard that Sams/Walmart plans to cut romance entirely in the next year. Erotica and romance are now published under same imprint with same covers, making it hard to tell the difference. When the RWA President was on the TV program Cake Boss Food Network Challenge (Season 12, Episode 5), she insisted that a romance novel can’t have a married couple on the cover, which shows how fast the genre changes.

[Edited to add. I've just watched the episode.

Bearing in mind that reality TV heavily edits everyone, here is what RWA President Dorien Kelly actually said about the cake with a married couple: "You have a couple who are married as the story progresses. That's unusual in romance novels these days, because the happily ever after is perceived as that moment, not necessarily where they're married, but you know it's all going to wrap up happily ever after." Contestant's response: "Gimme a break."]

James said that squabbling over boundaries is a waste of time.  The genre is about the secret architecture of life. At the heart of this maze is love.

James emphasized the importance of being precise in our scholarship. She gave an example of an essay on vampire romance published this year which uses examples willy nilly as if the vampire genre has not changed since 2000. Even within one series, such as Christine Feehan’s or Thea Harrison’s the rules change. She recommends tying our analyses to a decade or a five year span.

[These comments made me glad I decided to stick to one subgenre and one decade for my own paper!]

The same is true of “patriarchy.” It’s important to recognize that “the patriarchy” is different from place to place, time to time. Must be precise, study the parts, not the parameters and the whole. We have moved beyond that. We can’t miss the trees for the forest.

The same is true of historical narratives: if they are not accurate, we must ask how not and why not. Bodice rippers were fun to read in the eighties. Leg warmers were fun to wear. We need to be aware of culture and history of sex. Yet the sex she writes is not “historically accurate” — it is for today’s readers. We write sex from the point of view of our contemporary mores and attitudes.

So we must keep two viewpoints: one is the author, the other is specific cultural moment in which book was written.

James was amazed to see her books cited by scholars who didn’t bother to visit her website or shoot her a question via email. She says the part of writing that risks getting lost in scholarship is the writer.She cites Salman Rushdie, and I am not 100% sure this passage from Is Nothing Sacred? is what she means, but I think it conveys the gist:

What draws us to an author is his or her “unlikeliness,” even if the apparatus of literary criticism then sets to work to demonstrate that he or she is really no more than an accumulation of influences. Unlikeness, the thing that makes it impossible for a writer to stand in any regimented line, is a quality novelists share with the Caped Crusaders of the comics, though they are only rarely capable of leaping tall buildings in a single stride.

What is more, the writer is there, in all his work, in the reader’s hands, utterly exposed, utterly defenseless, entirely without the benefit of an alter ego to hide behind. What is forged, in the secret act of reading, is a different kind of identity, as the reader and writer merge, through the medium of the text, to become a collective being that both writes as it reads and reads as it writes, and creates, jointly, that unique work, “their” novel. This “secret identity” of writer and reader is the novel form’s greatest and most subversive gift.

[in the Q&A, when Sarah Frantz suggested that knowing that Suzanne Brockmann has a gay son and is an advocate for GLBTQ rights makes it easier to understand some themes in her work, James clarified that she is not advocating biographical criticism.]

James goes on to discuss reader response to her books. She says that when she writes about events that have occurred in her own life: a difficult pregnancy, a spouse’s cardiac event — there is a “bedrock of truth” that readers, especially readers who have experienced similar events (or at least the same emotions), find “raw and real and moving.” Romance novels live or die on strong emotions.

Yet books that seem fascinatingly similar are also deeply different. She doesn’t believe genre parameters are in themselves limiting to an author. Read in terms of genre, Hamlet, for example, is a thriller, a series of questions. And readers create their own novels, or rewrite the novels, by reading them.

Another change in the industry is that authors are now the brand that matters, not the publisher or the line. Increasingly, social media seems to drive sales. She has noticed how important her number of Facebook and Twitter followers is to publishers. But where publishers see dollars, writers see exhaustion.

James also said the genre is only, at one level, individual books. She drew on both popular culture and poetry as inspiration for the protagonists When Beauty Tamed the Beast. House, M.D. inspired aspects of the heroine’s character, and Eliot’s Prufrock inspired aspects of the hero’s.

 

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