29 November 2010

In Which I Review the One Book I Managed to Read in November.

Let me first say that getting old sucks.

Now I’m not one of those people who believes in saying things like that, and I most certainly am not dumb enough to think I am old (for example, I am not yet as old as Boy Scout). However, in getting older body chemistries change, and things that used have no affect on you whatsoever become life-ending, apocalyptic elixirs of doom.

Like, say... caffeine.

Or, more specifically, the amount of caffeine found in a chai.

Last week, in the midst of trying to write over 3,000 words per day to make up for my WriMo slackedness (Have you heard I won? No? Well I did. And it was awesome), I had a chai late in the day. A word about me and caffeine: it’s no big. Or it wasn’t a big.

Until I found myself wide awake at 11:00 that night, which then found me with the time and awareness to finally finish the Eloisa James book I had started 2 weeks before on the flight home from San Francisco. Maybe getting old doesn't suck that much.

As a rule, I’m not a hunormous fan of fairy tale ripoffs-- they can come out clumsily, and with very little connection to the real world they are trying so hard to... connect to.

A Kiss At Midnight is a take on exactly the fairy tale you think it is, only Cinderella’s name is Katherine Daltry. She’s not been made a servant in her own home, but rather has been the only one to step up and take charge to make sure everything doesn’t go to hell in a hand basket after the death of her father.

The Prince’s name is Gabriel, and as with so many princes, he belongs to a made-up kingdom, if for no other reason than there’s no complicating real-life history to contend with for the reader’s suspension of disbelief.

The reasons Gabriel and Kate cross paths, in addition to the bulk of the book’s plot, are flimsy at best. Kate must go and make a good impression on the Prince while pretending to be her own wicked step-sister (who is not wicked at all) at a house party because the step-sister has... a boil on her face? And no one really knows what Kate and/or Victoria looks like? And wearing brightly-colored wigs is all the rage, so even if people have met Victoria, all Kate has to do is wear a wig and they’ll think that’s Victoria.

See? Flimsy. Especially when it’s made very clear how much Victoria and Kate don’t look alike. All the time. It's pretty much all the omniscient narrator talks about. Which makes their eventual reunion at that same house-party (with no one noticing anything amiss) that much more unlikely.

That said, the romance in this book is aces. Gabriel is charming and fun, and it’s wonderful to see him fall in love with Kate-- especially because he is smart enough to know almost immediately that Kate is not her sister.

Meanwhile, Kate is definitely not her sister in any way, shape or form. She is smart and capable, and when she makes the decision to give herself to Gabe and damn the consequences, it is with the clear-eyed knowledge of a woman who knows she is seizing what may be her one chance at love (even if it's temporary) in regency-era England, where everything is controlled by the size of one’s dowry.

As with all of the books that grab me the most, it is the characters who shine, from Gabe and Kate to Gabe’s brother-from-another-mother (literally) Wick (Wick gets a book, yes? Yes?? Must find out) and the indomitable Henry (short for Henrietta), Kate’s godmother, who has the clearest view about romance and love over the course of a lifetime that I think I have ever read anywhere, much less in a romance novel.

On the keeper shelf? Probably not. But definitely worth reading. And definitely intriguing enough for me to want Eloisa James’ back catalog immediately.

28 November 2010

In Which I Win at NaNoWriMo.


I'm coming back tomorrow with a review of Eloisa James' A Kiss at Midnight, but in the meantime I just had to share the news of how awesome I am.

Special thanks to all who listened to me whine, to Scout for asking me every single day (!!) if I had written yet, and to the long plane rides that taught me that I can indeed write 5,000 words at a clip.


24 November 2010

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday is Thankful. And a Day Early.

Happy Thanksgiving! It’s that most wonderful time of the year where family and friends come together to celebrate the awesomeness of being family and friends. I’m a huge fan of this time of year in general; I like that it’s getting colder and that the trees are looking sinister, and I like that it is suddenly a really really great idea to sit at home under a blanket and read a book.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday because everyone celebrates it (Well, everyone in America. Hello British readers!). There’s no need for political correctness around Thanksgiving, no wondering if you just wished someone to have a pleasant holiday that they don’t even celebrate. You just say “Happy Thanksgiving” and smile when the other person wishes you the same.

Everyone has different traditions, but woven through it all are a few basic truths: we will eat turkey and potatoes and cranberry sauce and pie, dammit. And then we will have the ceremonial watching of the football (GO PATS!).

In the spirit of being totally cheesy, please find herewith the things I am thankful for this year. In no particular order:

*My family. It’s crazy, we’re crazy, and I’m at that time in my life where I seem to be acquiring a whole other branch. You can’t pick your family, but if I had been given the choice, I wouldn’t have picked anyone else.

*The continued health of my family. Despite my own run-ins with fatal disease this summer, we remain a remarkably hale and hearty bunch. We have friends who are having scares, or who have recently received some bad news, and they are in our thoughts every day. I am so grateful that it looks like we’ll get through 2010 unscathed (with some of us doing better than ever).

*At the risk of alienating everyone with my grossness, I’m thankful for Boy Scout. I’m not going to say more than that, though, because I already just threw up a little in my mouth.

*My MacBook Pro. This mighty machine has made my life at least 3 times easier, and at least 4.35 times more efficient. Thank you, Apple, for creating something that helps me keep my sanity.

*My beagle. He’s a regular pain in the ass, but he sure does give us something to talk about. And he’s too cute for me to hold any sort of long-term grudge about the burying-a-dug-up-bone-in-my-bed incident.

*My books. Obvious much? But in the past year the importance of books and reading in my life could not have been more apparent. I love to read, and I love to read romance novels. I’m just really thankful that there are so many awesome ones still waiting to be discovered (same goes for “television shows”).

*This forum. I’m thankful for the interwebs and the fact that a girl like me can get on her small soapbox and talk about one of the things I love most, and some of the things I don’t. Thanks for reading.

From my home to yours, a very happy, healthy, and overstuffed Thanksgiving. Just remember, it’s not shameful to go back for thirds.

21 November 2010

In Which Lady Liberty Pays Us A Visit.

Lady Liberty is one of my favorite people. Paris chum, Grey's Anatomy grade "person," Law student genius, and all-around excellent drinking buddy.

I remember when we first met (still skeptical about whether or not we were really meant to be...) and she found out I read romance novels. I think I lost about 16 points in her estimation that day. But then I gave her one to read. And she liked it. Not enough to go out and buy Linda Howard's entire back catalog, but enough that when I recommended another one to her she was happy to read it.

Fast-forward five years (five years!! I weep for my lost youth!), and La Lalib is looking for more ways to procrastinate from her law-school duties. What's a good friend to do? Send over a stack of books, of course! And ask her to write a guest review instead of that important law-school analysis paper! (You can tell I know all about how law school works).

OK. Enough with the introducing already. Without further ado, Lady Liberty's guest-review of The Spymaster's Lady:


What’s so remarkable about Joanna Bourne’s The Spymaster’s Lady is, in short... everything. While my foray into the romance world is about (exactly) six novels deep, I know a good heroine/hero/bitchin’ plot/style/180 degree plot twist when I see one. And boy, was there a lot of all that. What hits you immediately about this book is how quickly you’re trapped in a world you don’t ever want to leave. With a lot of these (or... the five previous) novels, I find it takes about 20 pages to wrap your brain around a writer’s voice and get comfortable, another 20 pages to understand where you are and what you’re doing there, maybe another 20 to like the main character and maybe even another 20 before you’re madly in love with leading man. And. That’s. O. K. Some people like to ease into a book and then let it pick up speed like a bike with no brakes on a downhill.

Not Joanna Bourne. By page 20, her leading lady is, in the words of Kate Jones, a bad-ass, (a French spy bad-ass who incapacitates large men while seducing enemy spies, no less) we’ve met a worthy hero who is not by any means convenient (but already tortured by the heroine), and we’re chest-deep in plot so juicy the pages turn themselves. Sigh. Okay. Deep breath.

What turns out to be so wonderful and unique about this novel is its relative subtlety. In other novels, even ones I’ve loved, I’ve been ready to throw down the book for the sheer obviousness of it. In most cases, we know the author is going to give us what we want--that being sex and a happy ending (unrelated to the sex part)--but the torturous twists and turns sometimes seem contrived and, well... torturous. Not so here. Every turn builds easily on what came before and is at the same time, unpredictable and with purpose. Yummy.

Annique Villiers is a bad-ass, point final, you can even excuse her blunt and straightforward ramblings about how she shouldn’t love the men she loves. It doesn’t deflate the tension like you’d expect it to, quite the opposite. Cool writer trick employed is interplay between the “good guys”. Grey, our dashing hero, and his team of spies, though enemies of Annique, care about her, respect her, and protect her, and so we care. Then when intrigue between Annique and Grey begins, it’s speculated on by the other “boys” adding a gossip factor that makes the tension irresistible, and even more so because it’s not the author telling us it should be irresistible. Bourne managed to do this with all of her principle good guys, the mutual respect and admiration turns them instantly into friends that I keep looking for even after reading the final page. Ahhh. Okay.

How terribly triste that my first guest posting is such an effusion of blather, but when you start out with a gem, it can only go down from here. Wait...



18 November 2010

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday is Exhausted.

Thoroughly Obsessed is still obsessed with procrastination. And sleep. And also wine. (And additionally, whine).

This is a tough post to write, given that I am so far behind in WriMo that it isn’t really funny for me to write a procrastinating post about procrastinating. Dammit. But I’m going to anyway.

Because once again I have neglected an important part of my reading schedule: the non-fiction that kind gentlemen read to me while I’m running all over the region. Well, mostly back and forth to Scout Camp.

Since our last check-in, I have read (I think) two books, Mornings On Horseback by David McCullough (can’t get enough of that dude) and my current distraction, A. Lincoln by Ronald C. White. Once again I am reading with a sort of shocking time-linear efficiency, though this time I’ve read backwards.

Mornings on Horseback was fascinating, and I’m not just saying that because I think McCullough could make Sarah Palin seem like a compelling figure. (Sorry, I had to. It’s been one of those days).

At any rate, the tale of the Roosevelt children and their upbringing in upscale New York, surrounded by intensely interesting parents (mother Mittie was reportedly the model for Scarlett O’Hara, and was sending care packages to her Confederate soldier brothers at the same time her husband was running supplies for the Union), and even more intensely interesting adventures that truly shaped the people that they ended up becoming. Intensely interesting people, naturally.

What did I learn from this book? Well, the Scarlett O’Hara thing, natch. (Mitchell refused to name the influence, but it’s known that she spent a lot of time speaking to people who knew Mittie while writing the book. Mittie, by the way, was short with dark hair and an impossibly small waist. And she was not beautiful, though men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as Theodore Roosevelt Sr. was. Oh wait...) Also, I never realized what a tragedy Teddy lived through right around the time he started serving as a legislator in the state of New York; his daughter Alice was born on February 12, 1884, and within thirty-six hours both Teddy’s mother and his wife were dead. Alice, bearing the same name as her mother, was called by her middle name, Lee, by her father, who could not bear reminders of his wife.

I’m not sure exactly what to say about Mr. A. Lincoln, except that he is/was pretty badass. And I’m not done with the book yet, but at the three-quarter mark I can tell you that White is an excellent writer, and I would definitely consider picking up others of his works, McCullough style.

Once again I am struck by the similarities between politics then and politics now. Then Lincoln and other legislators who opposed (I think) the Blackhawk War were accused of “not supporting the troops.” (Hmmmm). Then when Lincoln ran for president, these accusations resurfaced to make him seem unpatriotic. (Hmmmm). This is of course ironic, because those who were mostly responsible for these accusations later committed treason against the United States by seceding from the Union.

Wow. I’m on fire today with potentially polarizing opinions, aren’t I?

In any event, I thank you, Thoroughly Obsessed reader, for giving me a forum to further procrastinate and... get warmed up? Huh. Look at that. I’m ready to go write some more.

11 November 2010

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday is Procrastinating. Seriously.

Wow. This is one big ol’ hunk of procrastination, right here. I’m 3,200 words behind to meet quota tonight (No writing at all yesterday. At all. So now we have to make up for it, somehow...) and perhaps my heroine will suddenly develop a desire to blog about being thoroughly obsessed on Thursdays. You don’t know. And neither do I. It’s the nature of the beast.

I do want to take a moment to talk about my re-entry into the world of Historical Romance. It’s been a while since I’ve been in to it, as (I’m sure some of you are aware) these things are cyclical. One day you can’t get enough of the demonic paranormals, the next you’re drooling over wounded Napoleonic soldiers.

It Happened One Autumn is what did it for me (and no, I’m not jumping backward into Secrets of a Summer Night... I’ve instead started an Eloisa James called A Kiss at Midnight). Something about that book in particular re-enchanted me with the gloriousity of good regency novel, what it’s like when charming (and slightly clueless) heroines get together with rakishly good looking Earls/Dukes/Marquis/Etc.

So when I was at San Francisco International last week, I naturally bought four (yep, onetwothreefour) historicals. Please don’t tell Boy Scout. I may or may not have made a promise not to buy any new books. Clearly he had to know I was lying. Well, not lying. There was nothing malicious about it. It was more like short-sightedness.

ANYWAY. As soon as I have time in life (ha ha ha. HA.) I’m going to read these historical romance novels. And then I’m going to tell you about them. But in the meantime, in case you’re procrastinating about WriMo, too, here are some of my fave historicals to look up on Amazon:

Captain of All Pleasures (Kresley Cole)- The first and one of the best Kresley Coles, this one features a sailing contest, and a hot hero named Derek. And you know I’m a sucker for heroes named Derek.

Dreaming of You (Lisa Kleypas)- I’m also a sucker for a hero who is so bad he’s yummy. Just about every scene when Derek Craven tries to send Sara Fielding back to where she came from makes me melt.

Guardian Angel (Julie Garwood)- The Pirate Pagan. And a butler named Sterns. And that’s all I have to say about that.

Spymaster’s Lady (Joanna Bourne)- Girl spy. More post-Revolutionary France. Badass.

A Touch of Fire (Linda Howard)- Sure Rafe’s a bit of a douchecanoe at the beginning, but you would be too if you were on the run after being wrongly accused, and then shot. It’s the way they come together (and the not-quite-accurate history) that is awesome.

Goddammit, that did not take up nearly enough time. Now I have to go write. For realsies.

Dear My Heroine: How do you feel about blogging? It’s cool, right?...

4 November 2010

In Which Thoroughly Obsessed Thursday Can't Stop Talking About The Good Wife

If you know me personally or have just been reading me from a distance, you know that I love me some superlatives. I like to invent them, I like to steal them from other people, I like to pile them one on top of the other for maximum effect.

So when I say that I can’t really think of enough to use with regard to The Good Wife, you know that I must be pretty effing serious.

The acting is superb. The writing is superb. And honestly, if I’m going to derail into a Thoroughly Obsessed post about a television show, I cannot think of a better show to endorse on a romance blog.

It’s odd to say that I am excited that almost all of my favorite people are in the same TV show, because I had no idea they were my favorites before I started watching the show. I mean, Josh Charles has been on my list since Sports Night (Dan Rydell, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways...), I have had a girl-crush on Juliana Marguiles since ER, and though I’ve had a moderate like/hate relationship with Sex and the City, Chris Noth is yummy. So is Christine Baranski. And Alan Cuming. And Archie Panjabi. And let’s not forget the recent (temporary... sigh) addition of Friday Night Lights’ Scott Porter. (I won’t get into Miles from Rubicon acting as Alicia Florrick’s baby brother... glorious)

In case you haven’t heard, Alicia Florrick (Marguiles) is the Good Wife of disgraced politician Peter (Noth). There’s political conspiracies aplenty in season two as Peter is now out of jail and running again for State’s Attorney of Cook County. After her husband’s imprisonment for corruption, Alicia had to go back to work, and she joined a law firm run by her old college flame Will (Charles) and a democratic barracuda (Baranski).

What’s so awesome about all of this? The delicate balance woven each week between home and work, and all of these gifted actors (read: amazing characters) who collide and realign based on whatever is happening at the moment.

My favorite person right now? Cary Agos, played by Matt Czuchry, as Alicia’s former rival at the firm who was let go due to budget cuts at the end of last season. What’s a boy to do? Well, go to work for that demonic Man in Black, Peter’s State’s Attorney rival Glenn Childs. What’s so delicious about Cary’s defection, though, is his ambiguity in the ensuing period. Does he have a reason to be bitter and vengeful? Sure. He got screwed. But the fact is that for all of his anger, Cary hasn’t lost his sense of right. And he still seems to respect everyone from his former firm. So far.

The love triangle that is central to The Good Wife is that between Alicia, Will, and Peter. As a viewer, I love Alicia, and I’m dying for her to be happy with a man who is right for her. As it stands now, it’s terribly unclear which of these handsome and questionable men is right. Peter’s a douchebag who’s made mistakes, no question. But he seems genuinely invested in righting the situation and having a good relationship with his wife. Not to mention that their home/law chemistry, especially now that Alicia’s back in the game, is mesmerizing. Meanwhile, Will is the ultimate playboy lawyer with no interest/experience in family... but he loves her. He’s been in love with her since Georgetown. And he’s willing to go for it if she is.

I don’t think I need to ramble any more. I just need to say: Watch This Show. Immediately. And all the time. You won’t regret it.

2 November 2010

In Which I Review It Happened One Autumn

After the Disastrous Christmas Book Episode, I really needed something to remind me why I love Lisa Kleypas, replete with the elements of her writing that make her one of my favorite authors.

I have a strange relationship with the Wallflowers series, in that I have only read one of the “official” books and haven’t quite read all of the “peripheral” books (the Hathaways). I read The Devil in Winter (the third Wallflower book) as soon as it came out, not because I was interested in the Wallflowers (obviously) but because I was intrigued by its connection to one of my all-time favorite books, Dreaming of You. The heroine of Devil in Winter is the daughter Ivo Jenner, the villain from Dreaming of You.

The idea of a book about the daughter of the villain is an awesome one, and Evie Jenner’s life and relationship with the world of London gaming hells lived up to all of my expectations.

A couple of book-sale finds meant that the first two Wallflower books would sit on my TBR shelf for months before the Disastrous Christmas Book Episode. I picked It Happened One Autumn to read first, even though it is the second book in the series.

What the ever loving eff? Well, I’m reading them out of order anyway, and It Happened One Autumn interested me more because of its connection to another of my all-time faves, Again the Magic. The hero of It Happened One Autumn is none other than Aline Marsden’s older brother, the unflappable Marcus, Lord Westcliff.

I suppose that terribly long introduction was to say that I didn’t particularly care whether or not I liked this book, and that’s why its taken me so long to getting around to reading it. All of its connections to other books, seemingly stand alone books, was downplayed to the point that if you had not read the prior books you would not be disappointed or left out of the loop. On the other hand, I would have loved to hear more about Aline and McKenna, would have loved to see them again, though I confess I was mildly placated when we heard about the birth of their son John.

But this book was not about Aline and McKenna redux. It was about Lillian Bowman, American New Money heiress who couldn’t find a respectable husband at home (ah, the perils of nouveau riche-iosity) and so has been dragged to Europe by her parents in the name of finding a titled husband. In the previous book Lillian, her sister Daisy, Evie Jenner and Annabelle (I only know her married last name because she is the subject of the first book. Just be satisfied with her first name, dammit) dubbed themselves The Wallflowers, and are trying to get each other married off.

This sounds rather cold blooded, but it’s not. None of the girls are fortune hunters (in fact, most of their problems stem from the fact that they are too well moneyed), and none of them is opportunistic. They just want to do what they’re supposed to do (get married), and not get screwed over while they’re doing it.

The chemistry between Lillian and Marcus is stunning in that the first part of the book, in which they are separate from each other and reflect on their feelings for one another, is spent with them both talking about how much they don’t like each other. And you almost believe them. Until you remember the line about protesting too much, etc., etc., etc.

When they have their first encounter behind a juniper bush, Marcus’ physical reaction is as surprising to the reader as it is to Lillian herself, and it’s that much more potent for it. The discovery of their mutual respect and affection for one another is a joy to read throughout the book, and it’s a testament to Kleypas’ New Skool writing that when Marcus’ truly evil mother starts to interfere with what she considers to be an unsuitable match, neither Marcus nor Lillian behaves like a dipshit.

Were there problems with this book? Negligibly. Marcus and Lillian are not what I would consider to be comfortable people; as individuals they were each a pain in the ass, and I’m not certain I could put up with either of them for a prolonged period of time. All that meant in the end, though, was that I do not doubt for a moment that they are perfect for each other and have a beautifully balanced relationship.

While these characters and their story were by no means earth-shattering for me, this was a solidly written historical romance, with no eye-rolling and no “who in the what now??!” moments. Devil in Winter is next in the series, but since I’m away on business and only brought Secrets of a Summer Night with me, I guess I’ll just have to continue back tracking and start at the beginning.