Ramblings from the Desert

The man who trades freedom for security does not deserve nor will he ever receive either. ~Benjamin Franklin

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Location: New Mexico

Author of the urban fantasy novel, The Music of Chaos, and the paranormal romance, The Canvas Thief.

Sunday, September 04, 2005

Take Fork, Poke In Eye

What popular book leaves you scratching your head, wondering if you and the book's many fans are really a member of the same species?

I currently reading Tanith Lee's Silver Metal Lover, which (so far) is good. Decent world building, an odd, but interesting protagonist, and a solid premise. (I.e., something more than the usual, "Romantic hero can't love because he was hurt so badly ten thousand years ago" crap that permeates a lot of paranormal/SF/F Romance.

Silver Metal Lover is so unlike the book that has, temporarily, put me off anything that is marketed as Romance. (Actually several vile titles have that honor; this was the worst.)

Typical Romance (paranormal) hero/heroine: Him: tortured but noble. Her: ditzy but smart.

Reality: Him: True love died two thousand years ago; can't fucking get over it. But, he has a two-foot schlong! Her: A marvel of modern science: a body without a brain.

Playing nice, I'll omit name and title. (In a good mood.) The premise of this novel was as follows: Immortal vampire slayer can't love. A billion years ago, his wife was murdered and he, in a fit of anguish, sold his soul to Greek gods, or Santa or the Easter Bunny (honestly, who gives a fuck?) in return for all kinds of nifty powers. Fortunately, the Gods left him with the dick that drilled the world. Heroine is a ditzy artist and an insult to creative folks everywhere. (Successful artists have their shit together; they're good business people.)

This book and its ilk (a never ending series) have legions of fans. Or maybe "lesions" is more apropos. As in, these books cause brain lesions. The third (?) in the series, this was an example of "I'm a best selling author and too important for an editor."

Did I mention that hero and heroine are soul mates? Uh-huh. A cheap device to justify why two people with abso-frickin-lutely nothing in common should have a relationship. The heroine, infantile and stupid, loves the word "humungous." As in hero's humungous penis; humungous arms; humungous legs. (You'd think she was dating an Ent.) The relationship consists of fucking followed by fantasies about fucking and more fucking. Bad guys want to kill her, or him, or take over the world, or something formulaic. Cover blurbs compare the book to "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." Nuh-uh. Josh Whedon was probably writing better dialogue at five.

The author is enamored with her world. "Lookie, I've done heaps of research on the Greek and Celtic gods and their pantheons. Here's more exposition that has absolutely nothing to do with the plot. Aren't I clever?"

The entire male cast should be investigated by Congress for steroid use. There isn't a man present who has a neck. All are terrified of scissors and have long flowing manes of "luscious" (another overused word) hair.

Heroine has "lush" curves. Lush curves. Lush curves. Lush curves. CSPAN is more interesting than this woman. Watching my dog shit is more fun.

I never finished this travesty. About a third through, blood started to trickle from my eyes. I removed the fork, and then chucked the book against the wall.

Enjoy the long weekend. (For Americans anyway.) May you read something that doesn't impel you to shove sharp things into your eyes.

Cheers,
P.K.

 

Graphics and Content Copyright © Patricia Kirby 2005