Reason?

Though it was labeled a paranormal romance, the h/h were apart at the end of the book. I’ll read it, because now that I know how it’ll end I won’t be disappointed — and she said that otherwise, it was a fantastic book. Just that she was looking forward to seeing how they overcame everything and ended up together. So what might have been a really great read for her was pretty much ruined at the end because of the expectation created by the labeling (and fifteen years of reading romance). Sigh.

There was apparently an epilogue, though — and a baby. I guess that’s supposed to make up for the fact that the h/h won’t be together until after she dies.

An unconventional HEA (in that they aren’t together until LONG after the book ends?) Yes. But is it happy if they’re apart? I just don’t know. I don’t see how it’s much different from a human character dying at the end, and the other saying, “Oh, but we’ll be together in Heaven.” That just doesn’t work for me as a romance … but it might work for me just as a love story.

If you want to know what book it is, click here (and Megan did say it was a really good book, so it might be worth it, as long as you know going in). If you’re a reader who doesn’t mind that kind of ending in a romance, don’t click so it won’t spoil the surprise.

In other news, I was stuck at a gathering that I didn’t want to be at, so I took (and read) the novelization of 30 Days of Night. And cried at the end. The book freaked me out, too. It’s not the same as the graphic novel (how awesome is that?) but still a good before-bedtime read. I’m going to look for Tim Lebbon’s other horror work now, because I’m in that kind of mood.

Gah, back to work on stuff that I’m really supposed to be doing.

It’s probably odd that I’m sticking these two books in the same post, because they aren’t much alike, except that they are both wonderfully written, and that they’re the type of books that stick in your ribs and in your head, and there’s a hell of a lot to love about both.

First, Soul Song — I love Marjorie Liu‘s writing, it’s smooth and gorgeous and has wonderful depth, lyrical prose … yeah, okay, I’m a fangirl. I think I remember reading that this book was originally going to be a novella, the novella in Dark Dreamers, and I’m glad it’s not for two reasons: I love love love “A Dream of Stone and Shadow” from that anthology, and its dark-fairy-tale flavor, and Soul Song has that same flavor, but is longer, which makes me a very, very, very happy reader. It’s not quite like the other books in her Dirk & Steele series (although characters from those novels do make appearances) in that it’s not so much about the agency and the different conspiracies and groups that they are fighting, but it does open up a little more the darkness underlying the world they all inhabit. It’s not different in that there’s magic and superpowers and and violence and fantastic characters and bad guys and witches and romance and not everything is as it seems.

And this is one of those books that, when I close, I think: goddammit, I wish I had written that, because it’s flippin’ fantastic. But then I think, okay, not really, because that’s a lot of work, and I couldn’t do it like she does anyway, and it’d come out completely different, so I’m just as happy letting Marjorie do all of it and I’ll just read it. But it’s also one of those books that when I’m done, I read again to pull it apart. Like, “how does that phrase come off so beautifully?” “how does she manage to capture a character with one image that doesn’t mean the character is one dimensional, and there’s certainly more that we find out later, but gives us enough that we partially know him right away?”

Then there’s Threshold by Caitlin R. Kiernan (it looks like a placeholder site for now). Here’s the book description from Publisher’s Weekly, because it describes the plot better than I could: “Set in present-day Birmingham, Ala., the novel centers on Chance Matthews, a promising young paleontologist left bereft by the recent deaths of friends and family. Chance and ex-boyfriend Deke Silvey, a loser with latent psychic powers, wallow in self-destructive angst until they’re sought out by Dancy Flammarion, a strange teenage girl who claims to be pursued by monsters. Details of Dancy’s wild story inexplicably jibe with an anomaly Chance finds in the fossil record, and a pattern gradually emerges that points to an inconceivably ancient entity surviving from Earth’s prehistory that is consciously shaping their lives and miseries to suit its inscrutable purposes.”

I don’t know what to say about this book. There are passages that I want to read over and over and over, but I can’t, because I’ve got to get to the next part. The writing is like Faulkner and Lovecraft twisted all together, where she cements words together in ways that are exactly right (although at the same time, calls attention to itself, which maybe isn’t so great … but the effect in the novel is amazing, efficient and poetic at the same time. I’ve read something that tells me she doesn’t do it in later books (which kind of makes me sad, but if she can pull off the same feel without using that trick … wow)). And she sets a mood that is creepy and weird and dark and rotting, and the setting is tangible and oppressive despite the sense of unreality that permeates everything, and her characters aren’t always likable but always fascinating, and the language adds to the sense that it’s all a dream/nightmare, slipping and half-seen from the corner of your eye, and not remembered all that clearly when you wake up. But it sticks with you.

This wouldn’t be a book that everyone would enjoy. There’s a lot of ambiguity, time slips, dream sequences, and — like I said — nothing to put your finger on at the end, particularly about the monsters. I’ll be reading the next one, definitely (although she’s only got about five novels out right now, so I’ll wait, and savor each one, and hope they are all as good as this one). Also, I think the writing will either turn people off, or really capture them. The excerpt at Amazon looks like it’s a bad photocopy, so this is from the page that introduces Dancy, the albino girl who shows up and who much of the mystery centers around, to give you an idea of what I mean (she’s in the library reading National Geographic):

I have a whole bunch of books on the sidebar that are listed as TBR, that really aren’t TBR any longer, but just R. A few, I’ll talk about a little more later this week (Caressed by Ice, Riding the Storm, Soul Song, Your Mouth Drives Me Crazy) but there are others that I’ve read in the last month or so but probably won’t ever devote a whole post to them, and besides, everyone but me in the blogosphere has pretty much already read them anyway, so here goes a couple:

Anyone But You by Jennifer Crusie

Here’s the thing: I’m not really a fan of straight contemporary + funny (I can do paranormal or historical, though.) Or rather, I rarely like it as I read it (the humor doesn’t work for me), and in those rare instances that I have a good time, I rarely revisit the book (for example, I really loved Bet Me, would have easily graded it an A, but I know I’ll never re-read it, and this is my second Crusie) … and therefore I avoid the whole sub-genre like herpes. That is why I’m sure I didn’t pick this one up when it came out long, long ago, because the “Love & Laughter” line? Bleeeeechhhhhhhh. And oh-so-cute dogs/kids/oldpeople in romances? Double bleeeeeeeecccchhhh.

That said, I really loved this one, and have already re-read several scenes. And, double w00t! I got this one from a shopping cart outside my local USB for about … $0.10

Yeah, I’ll probably pick up another old Crusie up in a couple of months.

Count to Ten by Karen Rose

This is one of those books that I picked up solely because of the word-of-mouth factor. I’d read a couple of glowing reviews online, and I hadn’t read a rom-suspense in a little while (okay, I hadn’t read anything in a while because of a certain deadline). The last one I’d read was Bad Girl by Michele Jaffe (due to another recommendation) and loved it like crazy, and maybe because I was thinking of that one, Rose’s book came in just slightly below that. I skimmed a very few tiny parts, but overall, liked it bunches and bunches. Enough that, very soon, Die For Me will be in the TBR pile. And the rest of her backlist, too, but I’m trying to be a good girl.

The Billionaire Next Door by Jessica Bird

I didn’t really intend to read this, but I was stuck in Centralia, WA after being stuck in Portland traffic and being WAY late to a meeting with a writing buddy *sob*. I didn’t want to turn around and drive right back to Portland, so instead I went to Safeway, picked this up, and read it while sitting all by my lonesome in a restaurant. And, everyone probably already knows I’m a fan of category romances, but they lean toward the over-the-top Harlequin Presents line (and, oh my god, I’ve read some really bad ones lately, enough to make me rethink my guilty pleasure, but I’ll spare everyone the details) … but this really worked for me. It was a great way to spend about two hours when I didn’t have my laptop, and I didn’t want to get started on a single title that I’d have to put down (unless I wanted to get a hotel in Centralia, and lemme tell you … I didn’t.) I might even pick up the others when they come out, but I’m not sure. It was good, but there was no achy feeling in my chest that I get sometimes from her Ward books, so … yeah.

Also, I kind of dream of having luscious blond hair like the cover model’s.

Is the term “heroine” part of the problem? Because it seems to carry a lot of baggage with it, as in: “the character that the hero saves at the end.” And in a book where there’s both a hero and a heroine, and usually the hero is named first (no one says “heroine and hero”) does that demand the qualifier to assure the reader that “although the hero is first, the heroine is strong and stands up as a character, too?”

Of course, ‘male lead’ and ‘female lead’ just don’t have the same ring. Sigh.

Joss Whedon is one of my big genre heroes (I’m sure that’s no surprise) and yes, I was devastated when I heard that he wasn’t going to direct Wonder Woman. And I was listening to an interview with him (Amazon put it up as part of the Serenity CE DVD release promo) and one of the things he says is (I’m paraphrasing, because there’s no way I’m going to listen closely enough to transcribe it) that Battlestar Galactica is one of the best shows ever … and when the interviewer mentions “strong women”, which Joss is known for, Joss kind of shrugs that off and says that part of the reason it’s so great is because it has moved beyond that trend of “wow, strong female!” (and is what he was doing with Firefly, too).

So with Buffy, it was “oh, wow, look at that strong female character!” — but Battlestar Galactica doesn’t even acknowledge it, but just assumes that women are strong, or weak, or just people. It’s a given. And he goes on to say that this is more common in shows like ER — but that in genre, it’s not so common.

Mostly, I’m blabbing because I’m in a hurry, but it really caught my attention because it’s something I thought a lot about writing the last book. Lilith, Selah, Savi, I didn’t really think of in terms of strength or weakness, they just were and did what they had to do. But Charlie was something different, and I really wondered what the difference was … and why.

And I know this has come up several times in discussions about romance — that appreciation for a strong woman — but is there any sign that the romance genre is moving past that? Any signs of a time when we aren’t so surprised by it? When “strong female character” doesn’t have to be spelled out? (To me, that doesn’t necessarily mean someone who kicks ass … but who is complex and has an inner strength. Depth of character, I guess.)

Then there are some authors whose work you don’t have to say it, because you just *know* it’ll have that type of character, because that author writes them consistently as just people. Nora Roberts is the easy example, and someone I’d say as an author has moved beyond that need to spell it out. When someone says Nora’s written a strong (complex!) female character, my response is kind of, “well, duh” — just as if Joss had written a female character. But is that “duh” response just as telling … that it’s still so much the norm to read about not-really-strong, not-really-complex characters that we know which authors write the ones who aren’t? That I have a mental category for “authors who write women that seem strong and real to me”?

Because the defense of romance (for lack of a better term than defense) always seems to include the note that the female characters aren’t like they used to be … that now they are strong. But will this ever be a given, just as they are at an individual author level? Or will we have to keep adding that adjective forever? I like the idea of moving beyond it … but is it something that just happens?

Gah, sorry this is incoherent. Anyway. Love that guy.

And Charlene Teglia answers it very nicely: they’re in Wild Wild West.

I’ve really got nothing to add to the review at Dear Author. These were all yum. Oh, and I love the cover, too.

I’ve said this before, but I’ll do it again: novellas are lifesavers for me when I’m writing, or when I’m dying for something to read, but don’t have a lot of time. Less than an hour to zip through one, and I get a full story — and I don’t grit my teeth when I put it down, not knowing when I’ll be able to pick it up again, and lose the momentum that I find so necessary in a full length novel.

I hate putting a book down (unless I’m hating the book). These, there was definitely no hate. And they fit just right.

There are more cowboys here. Oh, and here. And here. And here. And, oh my gosh [shameless plug] some guy named Drifter [/shameless plug] (and this song was on my Demon Night writing soundtrack … and my daughter knows it by heart now. I feel bad when she sings, “I’ll go wash the dishes while you go have a beer.” I think I’m probably a bad mother.) I should probably start playing this for her instead …

…so that in twenty years she isn’t playing this:

I picked this one up when it first came out because I’m a sucker for a post-apocalyptic tale, but didn’t really get a chance to read it until just recently — and, all I can say is, wow. Blood Meridian was an uncomfortable read for me, just by the sheer violence and how visceral it all was — but this one grabbed at my heart, too.

And it had me by my throat all through the first half, just trying not to bawl because of that boy. I can’t handle starving kids, and McCarthy tells the story through a father’s POV with such lovely, simple prose that it paints a picture that shouldn’t be beautiful, but it is, and it’s just stark and desolate as well.
THIS MIGHT BE KIND OF A SPOILER:

Awful shit happens in this book. There are images that I really, really don’t want in my head — but because the story ends on an uplifting note, it wasn’t the kind of book that makes me want to just cry in a corner for a couple of days, eating a lot of whipped cream, and then flagellating myself for taking so much for granted.

Hey, according to Amazon, it’s an Oprah pick, too! Good good — it’s one of those books you really hope people do pick up, if for no other reason than to talk about it over dinner when you have nothing else to say to them.

The first is His Majesty’s Dragon by Naomi Novik, which I’m sure almost everyone knows about and has already read, but, what the hell, I’ll mention it here anyway. The premise is: dragons are living and used for battle during the Napoleonic Wars.

I really, really liked this book. I wanted to love it, and I couldn’t put it down … until the last third of the book. It lost me, just a little, because the focus switched to the battles, and not on the characters so much.

Laurence’s voice is just fabulous. He’s uptight, honorable, still makes mistakes and owns up to them, fun to read, and his relationship with Temeraire just as much fun to watch develop. On the other hand, I didn’t run out to grab the next one (although I’ll eventually pick them up, I didn’t HAVE to have them right away.)

I’ve heard that Peter Jackson optioned this for a film, and I will be standing in line for that. A book like this begs to be translated to the screen, and I think it’ll be spectacular there.

(As an aside: this book totally reminded me of Ender’s Game, and I don’t know why. But while I was reading it, I couldn’t stop thinking of Ender’s Game — maybe the training sequences? The he’s-the-guy-no-one-likes-at-first plotline? Dunno. But it did. As another aside: Ender’s Game is one of my all-time favorites. I love love love love love that book.)

(Another aside: Holy Shit! Ender’s Game has over 2,400 reviews at Amazon! And, just because I had to look: Harry Potter, book 1, has over 5,000 reviews. I thought I was pretty cool with, like, 8.)

The second book is behind the cut, and was a DNF for me (for now), but other readers might find the premise as interesting as I did and not have the same problems getting into it:

Warning: this post contains spoilers for Lora Leigh’s Forbidden Pleasure and Joey W. Hill’s The Vampire Queen’s Servant, and it references sexual acts that are a) kinky, and therefore b) just plain wrong

So I read these two books, and I gotta say — I don’t get it. Because I’m reading along, quite certain that these are romance novels, and that the characters I’m reading about are the good guys … but then they start doing things. And I think to myself: that can’t be right! All of this must have just been setting up the suspense part, showing the villains getting ready to move in on the real main characters of the story, the good guys.

So I flip to the back covers. And yes, the characters I’ve been reading about are mentioned on the cover copy — the names match. So I scratch my head and carry on, even though I feel a little betrayed by the publishers who’ve listed this as a romance. Feel a little betrayed by the authors for making me like these characters, when I know they can’t have a happy ending … because any woman who engages in these types of sexual activities is ALWAYS a villainess. But I read on, because I can’t help myself. There’s double penetration, oh my god. A female dominant. Sexual toys. One “hero” makes two women come on a table at the same time while his heroine watches and the author actually makes me root for them! And they get a HEA!

*sob*

I know that’s not right. I know that can’t be right. I can’t help but think of the skanky villainess in Katherine Kingsley’s In the Wake of the Wind, who pretended to be paralyzed whilst attempting to destroy the relationship between the hero and heroine, and so what if I kind of wanted to have a footman and a riding crop after reading the scene that the heroine stumbled upon and that showed exactly how twisted and Evil the villainess was. *sob* I should have been shocked and disgusted like the heroine was! And I was so ashamed, because I thought the villainess was probably having better sex than the hero and heroine! *sob* I knew I was a dirty girl then, I knew it.

And now I’m reading these two books, and I see these dirty, dirty villains falling in love and being decent people and I just don’t know what this means for me as a writer. Because I overwrite, people, and I was thinking the next book I’d just make it really easy, and show how bad the villainess was by having her dominant AND using sex toys AND taking it up the ass AND maybe even forcing the hero to have sex with someone because there’s no way that could be hot, only skanky — but, goddammit, now that won’t work, because the good guys are doing this now, too — and I like reading about it as much as they apparently like doing it, because at the end I’m convinced they are in love, and not dirty-evil-love, but good, they’re-a-really-great-match and all-the-happier-for-it love.

But what will the romance genre come to if we can’t use that kinky-sex-shorthand for Evil?

Someone hold me. *sob* I’m so cold.

So I just read Laura Lee Guhrke’s AND THEN HE KISSED HER (and thought it was very good, and so, so romantic at the end, happy sigh). And I love the setting.

But this isn’t a review, because I’m not really good at those, but just a quick note that what I found myself thinking of while I was taking quick breaks from reading the book wasn’t really romance at all, but W. D. Howells’ THE RISE OF SILAS LAPHAM, and in particular, this really fabulous scene in which Lapham frets and frets about wearing gloves to a dinner party (ah, etiquette).

And it’s odd, because there’s a lot about Howells that I don’t like, which may be just a gut reaction to his disdain for the sentimental novel, even though I have a similar reaction to American sentimentalism and lean toward realism in my (re)reading choices. RUTH HALL? Nah, nuh uh, not again. I’d a million times rather read anything by Howells. *g* Yeah, it must be that gut reaction.

But I really love that scene, and all that it manages to say about class and expectations, and how completely painful it is.

And, entirely unrelated to Guhrke, it is actually SILAS LAPHAM that influenced my thinking on a lot of romance novels, and what I’ll stand for in a heroine and/or hero. The whole, “I’ll sacrifice our love so that I don’t hurt anyone” thing that Howells calls ridiculous … well, I agree. And when I see it in a romance novel, I usually cringe and just want to bang my head against a wall. (I think that Valdez’s PASSION was an exception to this.) Although, in hindsight and from a purely storytelling standpoint, next to Silas, that self-sacrificing romance was also one of the more compelling aspects of the book. So I’m not sure what it means that the very sub-plot and sentimentality that Howells had such a hate-on for made it all that much more readable (and, for me, re-readable.)

Uh, but AND THEN HE KISSED HER didn’t have that kind of romantic plot … I’m just wandering here, because it’s 2am, and I can’t get Howells out of my head, and I’m also wondering if it’s because I’ve been reading so much Twain and Whitman lately, and Howells is just the next step on the 19th c. American voice tour I’ve been taking to nail down my current hero’s voice.

Anyway. G’night.