Confession: I Now Read Romance Novels
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This is weird. Over the course of the last couple of years, I realize I have become a bona fide readers of romance novels. I used to read them when I was a young teenager---11 or 12 years old---when they were true bodice-rippers in the historical vein. But I left them behind after 2 years or so; I don't even remember when or why, just that I can't remember reading any after about 12 or 13. I had not thought about them since then.
Then a few years ago, a relative who works in a bookstore sent out a Christmas letter with some book recommendations, one of which was Faking It by Jennifer Crusie. This was a romance novel, but riding that edge between romance and chick lit. It was smart and funny, and contemporary. Jennifer Crusie led me down the garden path. I read many of her novels, and branched out into other contemporary romance novels (though I've never found another contemporary writer I like as much as her).
Then just a few weeks ago, Michael Dirda of the Washington Post Book World did a feature on the 50 greatest love stories of all time, based on readers' picks. Several of them were classics (Romeo and Juliet, Anna Karenina) but several were flat-out historical romance novels. I got on Amazon, looked with chagrin at the Thomas-Kinkade-style pastel cover art, closed my eyes, and ordered. And what I've found is that these novels are generally (1) extremely formulaic, (2) slightly embarrassing, and (3) a lot of fun to read. I only got a few, and these are (I suppose) the best of the genre; but I was surprised at how quickly they took me back to my 12-year-old self, reading for fun, for bliss, for STORY. There's a sense of adventure, and these writers are plotting like maniacs.
And not to get all academic about it, but I kind of like that they are the kind of books that only women would like (unlike chick lit, which has broader appeal). I'm pretty sure that men would laugh their heads off if they read even a few pages. But this isn't about them. It's about us. And about how rakish men like the Count of Vaillauron and the Duke of Jervaulx find us absolutely irresistible. Okay, yes, it's also pornography, letters to Hustler with more detailed plots and pretty scenery. But it's ours and we like it.
That's it for now. I've got to run. My workday is over, and somewhere there's a curricle waiting for me.
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This is weird. Over the course of the last couple of years, I realize I have become a bona fide readers of romance novels. I used to read them when I was a young teenager---11 or 12 years old---when they were true bodice-rippers in the historical vein. But I left them behind after 2 years or so; I don't even remember when or why, just that I can't remember reading any after about 12 or 13. I had not thought about them since then.
Then a few years ago, a relative who works in a bookstore sent out a Christmas letter with some book recommendations, one of which was Faking It by Jennifer Crusie. This was a romance novel, but riding that edge between romance and chick lit. It was smart and funny, and contemporary. Jennifer Crusie led me down the garden path. I read many of her novels, and branched out into other contemporary romance novels (though I've never found another contemporary writer I like as much as her).
Then just a few weeks ago, Michael Dirda of the Washington Post Book World did a feature on the 50 greatest love stories of all time, based on readers' picks. Several of them were classics (Romeo and Juliet, Anna Karenina) but several were flat-out historical romance novels. I got on Amazon, looked with chagrin at the Thomas-Kinkade-style pastel cover art, closed my eyes, and ordered. And what I've found is that these novels are generally (1) extremely formulaic, (2) slightly embarrassing, and (3) a lot of fun to read. I only got a few, and these are (I suppose) the best of the genre; but I was surprised at how quickly they took me back to my 12-year-old self, reading for fun, for bliss, for STORY. There's a sense of adventure, and these writers are plotting like maniacs.
And not to get all academic about it, but I kind of like that they are the kind of books that only women would like (unlike chick lit, which has broader appeal). I'm pretty sure that men would laugh their heads off if they read even a few pages. But this isn't about them. It's about us. And about how rakish men like the Count of Vaillauron and the Duke of Jervaulx find us absolutely irresistible. Okay, yes, it's also pornography, letters to Hustler with more detailed plots and pretty scenery. But it's ours and we like it.
That's it for now. I've got to run. My workday is over, and somewhere there's a curricle waiting for me.
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posted by Anonymous at
5:57 PM
2 Comments:
I know someone who is a romance writer, and she and some other fans I know really like www.smartbitchestrashybooks.com. They review romance books and have discussions about the romance genre. I can't vouch for it myself since I haven't made much of a foray into romances, but if you ever want recommendations, you can scroll down their home page and find links to their reviews.
I loved the post on romances. Have you tried Georgette Heyer? A friend told me that her books are coming back into print, a few each month -- of course, I still have my collection purchased one volume at a time when I was in college. What I like about her is that she is quite funny as well as having the dashing heros, the curricles and phaetons, the English setting, the historic details and language. Somehow I like my romances set in England--maybe the Jane Eyre influence. Who else do you recommend?
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