On Behalf of a Friend...

We read this.

And so we help, by mentioning a new phenomenon: chachbag.

Thanks for playing.

Review- Tempt Me At Twilight

It's taken me a while to write this review, much in the same way it took me a while to actually read the latest entry in Lisa Kleypas' historical collection.

Confession time: As much as I adore Kleypas' new foray into contemporaries, I have found her historicals of late to be hit-or-miss. I haven't read all of the Hathaways, but I enjoyed Win's book (who wouldn't with an uber-hunk like Merripen?) and I am very, very much looking forward to Leo's book, especially with this cliffhanger. But more on that later.

In the way that Goddess of the Hunt took historical romance standards and kept them fresh, Tempt Me At Twilight comes dangerously close to retreading old territory. Poppy Hathaway is madly in love with a man who is keeping their relationship on the DL until he can find the right time to break the news to his father. You see, the Hathaways, even in "this day in age" are considered new money and not nearly haut-ton enough for some.

Enter ubersexydangerous hotelier Harry Rutledge who takes one look (well, maybe two) at Poppy and decides he has to have her. He ruins the relationship, compromises Poppy, and has her at the altar almost before she can blink.

Unfortunately the newlyweds don't have any time for happiness before she finds out what he's done-- in fact, her beau shows up before the ceremony to unmask Rutledge's dastardly deeds-- and a seemingly endless amount of time is spent before she decides to get over it and he decides to apologize and try to be an acceptable human being.

It's strange how Rutledge goes from ruthless collector (there's really no other word for it) to hopelessly in love with the heroine. Sure she's charming and lovely and why wouldn't he? But things turn around for both of them a bit abruptly. And I'm sorry, but the kidnapping incident at the end can be described as nothing but an obvious attempt to reinforce the reconciliation. The person who is kidnapped and the person who did it don't even make that much sense in terms of story relevance.

Now, a moment: In the past two books, there has been a sparky interaction tinged with inevitability between Leo Hathaway (de facto pater familias) and Poppy and Beatrix's chaperone, Miss Marks. Heaps of progress was made between the two in this book -- she's not so plain when you look closely! she's an actual human being, not a dragon lady!-- that can only mean that the next book is theirs. I would have been happy enough with their progress had the last paragraphs of the book not had Leo tracking Marks through Ramsay House to corner her:

"Struggling for self-discipline, Leo took a deep, steadying breath. 'Cat... we have to talk about what happened.'"

WHAT HAPPENED?? Because I officially can't wait to find out.

Rating:
Plot- .5 (done done done done done)
Characters- 1 (even with main character inconsistency, it was nice to see everyone again)
Sex- 1 (standard, hot Kleypas)
Style- .75
Consumption- .75 (sorry, but it took me a while to jump in)

TOTAL: 4

Review- Goddess of the Hunt

It's got to be hard, at this point, to come up with a fresh idea for a historical romance novel. It's the oldest sub-genre within the genre, and there is only so much one can do with Medieval castles, pirates, and Regency ballrooms.

So what's to be done? Take the familiar things and make them better, fresher, and seriously improved.

Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you Tessa Dare, and Goddess of the Hunt.

No, it's not an original story: Jeremy falls for Lucy, his best friend's sister, after she tries to seduce him as "practice" for another one of their friends. Following? Naturally the Jeremy and Lucy are caught in a compromising position, and even though they both want to be together, conflicts arise to keep them unhappy in the early stages of their marriage. Something Happens, they are reunited, HEA and offspring ensue.

Sounds familiar, yeah? (Note: If it doesn't sound familiar, either A. you have never read a historical romance novel or B. I did a terrible job of explaining. You make the call)

The difference between Goddess of the Hunt and every other book with this plotline lies in the writing and delivery. First of all, most of the story is from his perspective, as opposed to her swoony and annoying one. He's a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal to be sure, but he never hauls off and assumes she's a slut; in fact, he never gets more than seethingly jealous whenever Lucy mentions his friend.

It would have been so easy for Dare to make Jeremy a stereotype: there is one point in particular when Lucy is left alone with the friend, that is a clear demarcation between the novels of yore and the novels of... nore. Twenty years ago Jeremy would have assumed that Lucy and Toby had slept together, then he would have slept with her (read: raped her) out of anger, only to discover her virginity intact after it was too late. Then he would have left out of guilt, and they would have spent the whole book apart recovering from their own mis-assumptions.

There is a minor instance of mis-assuming, but it's not dire, and is more-or-less acceptable. It's resolved in a reasonable time for us to enjoy our hero and heroine together, and lets us have some fun make-up sex.

Surrender of a Siren is the next book in the series (its heroine is the irresistably charming Lady Sophia), and I can't wait.

Rating:
Plot- 1 (it's been done, but rarely so well)
Characters- 1- (Loved everyone, but Lucy was occasionally annoying)
Sex- 1 (Hot. No other word for it)
Style- 1
Consumption- 1

TOTAL- 5-

Wow. Talk About a Throw-Down.

For those who missed it, here is La Laliberte's scathing challenge, issued in response to my Heartless post:

You may chide my trash ignorance, but I assumed that was something of an epidemic, not only within one author's "oeuvre", shall we say, but even spilling over into others. For example, how many romances have I read? Two. You probably even know which ones, I'll give you a second to think. Yes, you're right. All the Queen's Men by Linda Howard and Julie Garwood's The Prize. Now, imagine my surprise when I go to pick up Judith McNaught's Kingdom of Dreams that you left with Aley and all of a sudden the noble Royce has reappeared in all his hunky-hairy-dark-age-hero glory! And he what? Somehow convinces the daughter of his enemy to love him and have steamy sex with him, etc?? Or at least, I would assume that's what happened... I stopped reading after I learned that Nicolaa (pronounced Nee-co-LAAAHHH) had somehow turned into her '80s counterpart... Jennifer. (Jennifer? Really?) So please, give me a good one or I'll give up on the whole genre. In fact, can I offer a discussion topic? THE BOOK you would recommend to convert a neophyte into a romance lover--and don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed The Prize and even All the Queen's Men, but now I need guidance. Help.

Oh, my dearest, darling Lady Liberty. How thrilled we are that you emerged from the Food Service cave to taunt us.

To begin I have to plead no contest to the charge that the first two historical romances you read had heroes named Royce. Not going to explain it, not going to excuse it, just going to say that it is an unfortunate coincidence.

And now on to the indictment of sameness.

I think the main problem is that you are reading the evolution of the genre backwards. (Say WHAT?!) OK, so here's the thing: Judith McNaught, at the time A Kingdom of Dreams was published (circa 1989) was working off of existing themes and, believe it or not, moving them forward. By a couple of inches.

So Judith McNaught is, for lack of a better term, the dinosaur. She's the one you're supposed to read the first time, when you have no idea what the genre is about. And right about the time you realize that all of the stories have the same structure, you find Julie Garwood, and you are so frakking relieved that the relationship is no longer the central conflict that you do a little happy dance. And by the time you think it's time to read about "real" characters in a more modern setting, you move on to Linda Howard.

In other words yes, you did the whole thing backwards.

Now I'm not saying that that makes McNaught obsolete (or that it excuses Garwood's inexplicable move into bland modern suspense). Those of us who popped our romance cherries on them can still look back with some fondness, the way you look back with fondness on high school-- skipping over the bad parts mostly, and really really remembering the good times with nostalgia (McNaught's Double Standards, which I would never recommend to anyone, will remain on my keeper shelf forever).

There is an element of sameness in the genre, but it is not something that should be confused with lack of imagination by certain writers. Sorry, but the new definition of romance involves two people who are perfect for each other, and the fact that come hell or high-water, there will be a happy ending.

That in no way precludes interesting characters, plot scenarios, or outside the box thinking as to how exactly they are going to get there, which can be messy as hell.

And to be honest, even the whole virgin thing is out out out in modern romances, unless you can come up with a not-unreasonable explanation for a 28-year-old who has never had sex. Like, a real, rational reason.

On to recommendations for beginners.

I am going to maintain that ANY Julie Garwood is the perfect introduction for beginners in historical. There are only maybe three of hers that I am not completely enamored of, and they are wonderful without being overly dense. Moderns? Erin McCarthy seems to be kicking ass and taking names, especially in the real-world-not-all-the-same-scenario realm (and Lisa Kleypas, the mastress of sweet historicals has progressed herself into some seriously yummy contemps).

For me and paranormals, if you're not reading Kresley Cole, you're not living. Like, for reals.

OK, Mme Laliberte, the challenge is now to you. Name the genre you'd like, and I'll get you a title.

(And you can read it in the car with me on the way to Utah. WAHOO!)

Review- Heartless

There is something to be said for comfort and consistency. There is even something to be said for knowing exactly what you are getting, no matter how good or bad.

But sometimes, it all gets to be a little much.

Danielle Steel, old skool Elizabeth Lowell, and Diana Palmer all come to mind when someone mentions the same plot being retooled over and over and over again.

And so Diana Palmer's latest, Heartless, is really not a new release at all.

I have found (through a thoroughly unscientific study) that there are two types of Diana Palmer stories:

1. The hero and heroine (for whom there is always at LEAST an 8 year age gap) have known each other since she was jail bait and he was walking the line between perv and tormented male grappling with his inappropriate lust. They have lots of sex like, on her 18th birthday and then he leaves in a fit of conscience. She has a Secret Baby, he returns a decade later to find a mysterious 10-year-old child, who he assumes to be hers and not his, since she *clearly* turned into a huge slut following his abandonment. Big Misunderstandings, Reconciliation Sex, and Vague Threats to the Heroine's Safety ensue.

2. The hero and heroine (for whom there is always at LEAST an 8 year age gap) have known each other since she was jail bait and he was walking the line between perv and tormented male grappling with his inappropriate lust. He leaves before they have a chance to do the horizontal mambo, and then comes back a decade later (after having been married, and possibly having a child) to find her Still Untouched, because she had nothing to do in the meantime but become a twenty-eight year old with zero sexual experience and no character evolution at all.

(Obviously these are both incredibly true to real life scenarios. Obviously.)

So where to begin? In Heartless the hero and heroine (I don't even know their names, to be honest) were formerly step-brother and step-sister, he left, got engaged to a bitch who was mean to his step-sister, and then came back when his engagement was broken and the heroine was facing Imminent Danger. There's a Big Reunion, lots of weepy, talky sex (she does have negative amounts of experience after all, but he swears to make it "good for her") and then the danger resolves itself or something. Did I mention the fact that no more than 5 book-time minutes (read: 30 reading-time seconds) after the emotional sexxoring, he announces that she is probably pregnant? "It only takes once" aside, um... are we still being that stupid in 2009? Really??

I'm not sure what is worse: the fact that 20+ books all fit into the two categories above, or the fact that the characters have not even bothered to be brought into modernity over the period of time it has taken to write said books. Or the fact that the next time a Diana Palmer book comes out, I'll probably pick it up at the library anyway (on no Keeper Shelf will they be put) just to make sure that everything is still the same.

Because like I said, there is something vaguely comforting about that.


Rating:
Plot- -1 (the fact that I predicted the whole thing to KBoog after reading the book jacket... BAD)
Characters- .25 (were there any characters? I'm pretty sure they couldn't be picked out of a lineup)
Sex- .75 (warm, but rehashed from every previous book)
Style- .25 (Basic basic basic)
Consumption- 1 (I guess... I read all I needed to read in the library in 10 minutes)


TOTAL- 1.25

Characters welcome?

Well - I have to concur that the characters compel me to finish a story far more than any plot ever will. Don't get me wrong, I really appreciate a well told story, and will enjoy the clever twists an author can infuse: Sandra Brown's "Envy" anyone? But the characters keep me until the end - whatever it may be. I am gloriously involved with the "...In Death" series that J.D. Robb so brilliantly pens. Some of the plots are less intense than others, but I have come to look at the characters as old and comfortable friends. I genuinely care for Eve and Roarke and have come to care equally for the series regulars. Even the coroner, Morris, got his own story and, heartbreaking though it was, we were given a here-to-fore- unseen glimpse into the person behind the spiffy clothes and the great hair. While the plot lasts only as long as the book, the characters live on. (Dare I bring up Gone With The Wind, Kate? We all want to know what happened to Rhett and Scarlett. Do we really care about the restoration post Civil War? nah!)

The Plot's The Thing (oh, wait...)

Over dinner last night, an intriguing discussion came up, leading to a further intriguing discussion that will take place... Here.

While talking about the wonderful (non-trashy) book The Sweetness At the Bottom of the Pie, I was noticing that a lot of people who had read it had a lot of trouble finishing it, myself included. I liked the book, would go so far as to say that I loved the book, and will definitely read its inevitable sequels.

But I still had to force myself to sit down and finish it.

So I've decided that it has everything to do with characters versus plot: when you love both, it's easy to sit down and read the book, no problems, no questions, no hesitation. When one of those elements is askew, things get a little more difficult. In Sweetness, I adored the characters, but didn't care one way or the other about the plot and its mysterious resolution.

I have a feeling this particular scenario is symptomatic of series: you come to know and love the characters, and eventually you can get tired of the plot. Or vice-versa.

A specific example of this in Romancelandia? Every Stephanie Laurens novel I have ever tried to read. For the record, I have picked up probably 10 of her books over the past five years and have only managed to finish two: Captain Jack's Woman (a personal favorite) and The Promise in a Kiss (though to be honest, I now cannot tell you what that one is really about). I always like the characters and don't mind the plot, and never stop reading the books on purpose-- there is no deliberate "This book sucks, I'm going to read something else."

At some point I just stop reading, and literally cannot compel myself to finish.

So here's the question: when only one thing can be good (plot or characters) which is the MOST IMPORTANT one to get the book reading finished? For me, it's got to be the characters every time. If I don't care about them fully and completely, there is no possible way for me to finish the book. While I may have liked Laurens' characters well enough, they didn't compel me past what I considered to be pretty bland plots. On the other hand, Flavia De Luce and the remarkable characters around her were the only things that got me through to the end of Sweetness.