On Romance. Trashy Romance at That.

I read a lot. Like in a book every two days. Yes, they are 90 percent of the time trashy romance novels. I'll defend my guilty pleasure till the end of time. Whenever I tell anyone that I love them, that I read them voraciously (a word I learned from said trashy romance novels) and that I read them openly in public, I always get a few typical questions. One of my favorites would have to be "Do you read those novels with the half naked men on them? Haha!" Sigh.

No I don't. First off any of the half naked hero/heroine romances, often called bodice rippers, tend to be published in the1980's 1990's and are usually out of print unless picked up by a large publishing house for a reprint. If I am caught reading one of them they tend to be dog eared and falling apart from moves from one house to the other, rain soaked storage in backpacks and purses and rips from hiding them long ago when I was ashamed of my habit at 11 or 12. The ones that do feature half naked covers tend to be really hilarious Harlequin "Category" romances. Most Harlequin romances are a single in a series, like the hilariously titled: The Greek Millionaires Secret Child or The Ruthless Billionaires Secret Virgin which cater to the poor employee/rich man fantasy. There are genres in the Harlequin world that deal with single fathers, and NASCAR. They have sub genres which include paranormal romance, erotic fiction, and Christianity (which usually have no sex and deal with romance in the scope of God and worship).

One of the reasons I don't read very many category romance writers is because of Harlequin's strict writing guidelines. I find that many of the books are formulaic (duh!) and the characters are hard to develop in 150 pages. But who am I to judge. You have to hand it to them, they know how to produce something that sells and by producing books that follow strict guidelines they are able to appeal to a broader reader base. I'm sure there are some evangelicals who would balk at buying an inspirational Christian romance from a publisher that also publishes novels such as The Duchess, Her Maid, The Groom & Their Lover but I am sure there are few publishing companies that crank out as many as Harlequin does. They even publish romance novels in Spanish and have been one of the first to jump on the Ebook wagon, realizing that these do get devoured and need to be purchased in bulk.

My only issue is that they don't publish queer romance, but then again, would I read it? And here is a major side note, I've read my fair share of queer romance. A lot of the time its either straight erotica or the worst purple prosed novel on the planet. On par with Twilight even, and that's the worst insult I can think of.

But this side note leads nicely into my next explanation, while Harlequin to some (even me!) is scoffed at, the romance genre would not be what it is today with out it. Truthfully, with those writing guidelines set out they've crafted I am sure it has made better writers out of some of the crappiest romance novel writers.

The bottom line of this silly post I've been sitting on for like a million years is that there are four stacks I stick the trashy romance novels I buy in.

Stack One: "Dude this was Great! I'm totally glad I paid 7.99 for this piece of fluff! (Emphasis on the fluff part)"
Authors include:
Amanda Quick, a historical novelist, who has a recent annoying tendency to add the paranormal into all her novels no matter what the pseudonym. Yes, all three of them. Her historicals tend to be lighter on that crap.
Linda Howard, a contemporary author who's pretty good about combining the romance with the serial killer action.
Christina Dodd, but only her historical romance. I'm not so much a fan of her contemporary, her plot lines are a little too convenient. Don't even get me started on her paranormal, I like to forget I wasted three hours at the airport on A Touch of Darkness

Stack Two: "OMGOMG I feel like my eyes are going to pop out of my head because the story is so riveting and/or because the sex scenes are making me blush like a virgin school girl!"
Authors include:
Sabrina Jeffries. The woman sure does know how to shock me by inserting masturbation and kinky sex scenes into Victorian time periods. Her heroines are feisty
Susan Elizabeth Phillips, another contemporary author who makes me cry every time I read one of her books. Even the really crappy civil war era romance.
Janet Evanovich. Not a romance author per se, but she writes some good romantic tension while making me laugh so hard I pee myself.


Stack Three: "Eh, going in the used bookstore pile. I skimmed the last 50 pages of this book."
Authors include a smattering of the above listed authors. These books once were combined into this last column. Thank god for Book Again. I will never toss another trashy romance novel in the goodwill pile ever again. I can now get more trashy romance novels for half the cover price and twice the lulz because of the cranky old ladies who work there and love romances more than I do. Plus they have a pretty impressive collection of erotic fiction. Oh wow, potential ew factor now that I think about it.

Stack Four. The Wall Dent Pile.
This stack is epic. I don't usually have many of these issues. But since I started going to Book Again and haven't had to count my twenties when the option comes to buy enough books to last me the work week, I've been taking risks on my trashy romance novel obsession. Just this week I had three wall dent books.

Arnette Lamb's, True Heart. I hate, hate, hate, with an epic fury, fake amnesia stories. You know the ones, the heroine has some troubled past, usually of her own making (in this case sneaking away to see her fiancee and gets kidnapped and shipped to America as a bond servant) and fakes amnesia once her loved ones find her so that she doesn't "hurt them once they know about the horrors she experienced." Ugh, I got 50 pages in and tossed it across the room. I was so excited because I had read the book before it and wanted to know how it ended.

The second was Christina Dodd's Treasure of the Sun. I did want to finish it. The plot was clever, set in colonial California, a American housekeeper employed by a rich Mexican. Totally cute what you did there, playing with the status quo, Dodd. Really cute. Too bad you didn't deliver! The story dragged so much I ended up skimming to see if the sex scenes were going to redeem it. Nope. Not at all! The heroine and hero don't even get to have sex in the pages I skimmed, because she's too shy. Fuck that! I don't read trashy romance novels to see the heroine get shy! I like my historicals non historically accurate in that sense. The other "real" sex scenes must have been hidden by her relentlessly slow story line.

The third was Elizabeth Boyle's Confession of a Little Black Gown, which I picked up last minute at Target because I was spending an impromptu night at The Boyfriend's and needed something to read while he was comic making. (Side note: Target = best place to get bestsellers. They are 20%-40% off the cover price sometimes!) This book might not have been as irritating if I had read the first in the series. There is nothing I hate more than buying the book right in the middle of a series and the whole story is a reference to The Secrets of the Little Pink Dress or some such nonsense. Ugh. I am not a big fan of detailed story arcs in romances. An author who is notorious for this is Johanna Lindsey. She spends 90% of her book in back story of secondary characters. It is not worth my time to even pick up anymore.

Really though, just to put it in perspective, none of these are the epic fail of Stephanie Meyer's Twilight. I put the book down like a million times with my "Really SMeyer? Really?" face on. The characters were so one dimensional I could see through the pages. The writing was so purple I thought it was bleeding.

Don't even get me started on how I feel about the main characters and what is considered abuse in an unhealthy relationship. Maybe I'll purchase the series and write a paper on it, I have so much ammunition for the Twihards out there who think Meyer is a goddess and LUUUUUUURRRRVVVVV Edward Cullen with every inch of their virgin lives. Oh, I can't forget the twimom's who think about Edward Cullen when their husband is making love to them at night. I really don't know who's more pathetic.

When I finished it and realized it was just a set up for the next book in the series I hurled it across the room. Fuck you Stephanie Meyer. Fuck you. I want three days of my life back. Thank god I bought it used at Powells bookstore, I'm glad I didn't fund you another 15 dollars!

Sigh, I finally think I'm done with this. It took about a week, but I think that's it. I may sit down with the next romance I've got and make notes so I can post a review here. Humph, we'll see how well that idea goes.