romance

Best Lesbian Romance 2011

mandy — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 20:00:00 +0000

Best Lesbian Romance 2011 is just that: some of the best lesbian-themed romantic short stories you’ll read this year. Beyond just lesbian romance, this interesting compilation seems to center around variety. Set in a variety of locales, covering various relationship stages, drawn from various cultures and subcultures, and even drawing upon various genres, the stories in this collection leave virtually no stone unturned as far as variety is concerned.

Locations shift from the Slovenian countryside to a Magdalene laundry in Ireland, from a small community theater to a bingo parlor, from a grocery store to a werewolf pack’s hunting grounds, bringing with the change of place, a change in culture and subculture that leaves the reader pleasantly disconnected from it all. Characters detail everything from the first stirrings of teenage love to the subtler romance of a long-established relationship made new by pretense, the feelings we remember and the ones we relatively younger lesbians hope to some day experience. They’ll make you laugh, cry, sigh, and even wish you grew fangs at the turn of the new moon.

So, variety is covered. Diversity, however, seems to have gone missing. Although the demographic characteristics of some of the characters is anyone’s guess, the impression given is that the characters are overwhelmingly of the Caucasian persuasion and generally able-bodied, even if a few are four-legged part of the time. I don’t know if that’s acceptable in 2011. I’ll give the editor the benefit of the doubt and assume that there weren’t many submissions from women of color or the differently-abled, but a compilation without diversity seems a bit too limited.

I’m torn. I loved the stories and greatly enjoyed reading them. Radclyffe did a great job of picking some wonderful, exciting, intriguing, well-written entries. But I want more. I want women of color. I want women who find love that transcends physical limitations, the kinds so many of us experience in our daily lives. (Sorry, but turning into a werewolf doesn’t count if the woman you love is also a werewolf.) I want a compilation that leaves as few of us out as possible, that allows most, if not all, of us to see ourselves and sigh just a little bit at the memories of our own loves. I don’t think that’s wanting too much.

Written by: Melinda Barton, April 6th 2011

Miss Don’t Touch Me, Vol. 2

gwen — Wed, 23 Mar 2011 20:00:00 +0000

By Hubert

NBM Publishing

My knowledge of graphic novels is limited to having only read The Watchman. When you’re reading a book you imagine what the character looks like and maybe even the environment where she lives. When you experience a graphic novel, an interconnected array of words and colors awaits you much like what a child sees when looking at a picture book. I think it’s a fabulous genre and I look forward to reading more.

Miss Don’t Touch Me, Vol. 2, takes place in Paris in the 1930s. I recommend you read Miss Don’t Touch Me, Vol. 1, first, as there is good back story to the characters in Volume 2. Miss Don’t Touch Me, Vol. 2 centers on a frightened and nervous young woman named Blanche, who is overshadowed by her sister Agatha, a fun-loving free spirit who frequently goes out dancing. They both work as maids and are barely getting by financially. Blanche experiences a tragedy when someone very close to her is shot. She takes it upon herself to find the people responsible, which leads her to the Pompadour, a house of call girls. Blanche becomes a dominatrix and is given the name “Miss Don’t Touch Me,” because she is still a virgin and her male customers are not allowed to touch her.

The other prostitutes at the Pompadour are jealous of Blanche and are constantly bullying her, but she stands up for herself. Through Blanche’s eyes we see a division between the prostitutes and the people with all the money and power—who are often the prostitutes’ customers. In Blanche, we see an advocate for her friends that are abused or mistreated. She has a complicated relationship with her mother and she falls in love with a man who is struggling with his own sexual identity. Blanche grows from a nervous woman to someone who fights the male dominance and the power hungry individuals that threaten to bring her down. She is still frightened, but she works through her fears and tries to survive in a world that is very much against her.

The Miss Don’t Touch Me series is not for everyone and if you’re easily offended by images of men getting whipped or women being tied up, this is probably not the best introductory graphic novel. But if none of the above bothers you, then you will enjoy this strange—albeit entertaining—tale filled with horror, S&M, mystery, and romance.

Written by: Su Lin Mangan, March 23rd 2011

Heart of the City: Nine Tales of Love and Serendipity on the Streets of New York

payal — Sat, 19 Mar 2011 20:00:00 +0000

By Ariel Sabar

Da Capo Press

I believe in magic. I really do.

I am fresh off the boat but I have already learned that there is some divine sleight of hand that makes any form of human connection possible in New York City’s bustling boroughs.

Ariel Sabar believes that sleights such as: a missed train connection; a turn one block too early; and a misplaced address brought his collection of strangers together at a prominent New York landmark and then kept them together, married, presumably, happily ever after.

The couples selected by Sabar in the nine stories that comprise Heart of the City are a hodgepodge: in "Central Park" he narrates the love story of a teen runaway and a gallant sailor, in "The Subway" it is a Filipino bank teller and an American classical music reviewer and in "Liberty Enlightening the World" a German factory worker collides happily with a bubbly Long Island divorcee and her family.

Sabar venerates romance and marriage. He is clearly enamored with his cast of lovers, and this is charming and a testament to the many hours he spent interviewing them—in one case more than sixty years after their love first blossomed in New York. But Sabar’s micro-detail of that first lingering gaze, the agonized "she loves me she loves me not" internal chorus, the pouting lips that invite an inaugural kiss, the first amorous letter signed "love and kisses" is closer to banal than magical.

The love stories are a bad fit for a collection of short stories and I might have found them more endearing had I stumbled across them piecemeal in the "Weddings & Celebrations" section of the New York Times. Having said this I must add that none of Sabar’s couples are black or Hispanic, and none are same-sex—these groups do get to tell their fairy tale stories too in the "Weddings & Celebrations" section of the New York Times.

Written by: Chiseche Salome Mibenge, March 19th 2011

Best Lesbian Romance 2010

payal — Tue, 16 Nov 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Edited by Radclyffe

Cleis Press

This is a light, sweet collection of short stories featuring women in love with women. I'm thoroughly impressed by the diversity of the stories' characters. Each story is very different from the next. I read about the lives of queer teenagers, figure skater dykes, gay cattle ranchers, and butches racing their cars.

There were women of different ages, races, and personalities. There was even a story with vampires and shapeshifters. Some characters were traveling. Others were looking back on their lives, or starting new ones.

I felt thoroughly entertained and sometimes moved by these stories. My only issue was the lack of development in some narratives. I wasn't sure if some authors originally included more writing to begin with, or if details were edited out later by Best Lesbian Romance 2010 editor Radclyffe in order to save space. In any case, I would have liked to feel more attached to some of the characters. For example, what happened to the lesbian couple who attended the social dance together? The ending only hints to a big scene taking place and isolation to follow.

The authors' writing styles vary. Some are humorous, while others are straightforward. Many of them follow their emotions as they willingly receive what comes to them. While one author would make me laugh, another would easily make me sentimental. For example, my heart skipped a beat when a woman's car tipped over during a suspenseful race.

If variety is the spice of life, then this book is certainly spicy. Speaking of spice of a different nature; there isn't much to be had here. Details of bedroom intimacy are limited and polite. However, this is a romance collection, not an erotica collection. Those seeking heavier scenes should look elsewhere. If you're looking for heartwarming and fun stories about lesbian love, however, you won't be disappointed!

Written by: Jacquie Piasta, November 15th 2010

Death Echo

beth — Wed, 10 Nov 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Elizabeth Lowell

William Morrow

Death Echo is categorized as a suspense novel. On that score, the book delivers, but not for the reason that the author intended: I was in suspense for the entire book trying to figure out what was going on.

Emma Cross, of the elite security consulting firm St. Kilda's, is assigned to find out if a newly commissioned yacht is the same yacht that was supposedly washed overboard on its way to being delivered. Intel says that at least one of these yachts is going to be used to destroy an American city seven days into the future.

Emma gets herself aboard the yacht while it's being sailed up the Pacific coast of Washington and Canada on the way to being delivered to its new owner. She and the transit captain, MacKenzie Durand, search the yacht but don't find anything lethal aboard. And yet they continue their journey over the better part of the week, somehow hoping that when the yacht reaches its destination they will figure out exactly how it's to be used to destroy the unknown city.

The author throws in some inter-agency bickering, perhaps to show how incompetent the covert community really is. I suppose this is to justify hiring St. Kilda's to sort out the mess. And it all hinges on Emma Cross, who you think would be dead serious about her mission instead of spending most of the book fantasizing about and bantering with Mac. After many pages of sexual innuendo, ear nibbling, and finger sucking, Emma and Mac finally consummate their relationship in a graphic sex scene.

I would have been delighted if the attraction between Emma and Mac had made the story sizzle, but it didn't. The biggest problem I had with the book is that most of it was so boring, unless you're interested in the ins and outs of yachtmanship. To be fair, I did find this esoterica interesting at first, but eventually tired of it when it took the place of plot development.

The author, whose real name is Ann Maxwell, began her writing career in 1975 with science fiction. She didn't start writing romance until 1982, under the name Elizabeth Lowell. She has said that she welcomed her foray into romance suspense novels because she “loved being able to include a relationship in [her] books, because at that time the idea of a man and a woman working together was unexpected and/or unwelcome in thrillers, mysteries, and science fiction.”

The author does succeed in her depiction of a male-female team who fit well together (in every sense of the word), but it's hard to see how they are able to develop more than a purely sexual relationship in less than a week. And yet we are led to believe that they have finally found their soul mates. The reader is given only the scantiest of back stories for Emma and Mac, so it's hard to see them as real people. The most fleshed-out character is a former Russian agent who is trying to take possession of the yacht, but since it's not clear what his motive is, it's difficult to sort out how he relates to the story.

If you can make it through all the nautical details, you'll finally be rewarded during the last forty pages. If you're a boating enthusiast, you'll be in seventh heaven. If you like your international intrigue confusing and shadowy, this is the book for you. But if you're looking for strong, well-developed character and plot development, my advice would be to look elsewhere.

Written by: Ellen Keim, November 10th 2010

A Season of Seduction

andrea — Tue, 02 Nov 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Jennifer Haymore

Forever Publishing

When critiquing a work, being meh is the worst feeling. If a book or a movie is bad, there is plenty to say. The same thing applies when it is wonderful. But when it is neither, it gets hard. What do you say? It was adequately plotted? The characters were pleasant?

A Season of Seduction by Jennifer Haymore falls into this category. Some parts of the novel were good, others bad, but overall, it just was. A romance novel set in 1827, the story follows Lady Rebecca Fisk, a young widow with a dark history, as she falls in and out of love with Jack Fulton, sailor rogue extraordinaire who also has a dark history. The novel opens with the two of them getting caught in bed together by her family, which is used to set up an entirely plausible plot. Events happen around Christmas, thus the name.

The characters are well-drawn and yes, pleasant. Lady Rebecca, or Becky as she’s known, is a level-headed, smart, interesting young woman with an entirely reasonable fear of commitment. I can honestly say she’s a good character, maybe one of the best female characters I’ve read in a while. She does some rash things, but for logical reasons. Jack Fulton, on the other hand, veers towards idealized character a bit too much. He’s a rough and tumble sailor, who knows how to keep house, is a generous lover and manages to save her on a few occasions. He is very close to being as real a person as Becky, which makes him a bit of a letdown. Did I mention Becky shoots him? And he admits he deserved it? Situations like that highlight the differences between the two of them. However, the other characters, and there are a lot of them, are not shown in particularly sharp focus, but they are not objectionable either. Just pleasant.

In the past, I’ve been guilty of pre-judging romance novels as less than novels, and not worth reading. But recently, I’ve realized that is unfair. Like any genre, there are standouts and disappointments. What strikes me is the feeling that, authors of romance novels seem to be reaching only for what’s good enough. Jennifer Haymore has flashes of brilliance and obvious talent, but she stopped at pleasant. I hope she reaches for more than A Season of Seduction. She can do it easily.

Written by: Taylor Rhodes, November 1st 2010

Juliet: A Novel

gwen — Thu, 28 Oct 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Anne Fortier

Ballantine Books

We all know Shakespeare's story of two star crossed lovers; it’s heartbreakingly romantic and tragic at the same time. It’s also a storyline that has lasted since its debut and has inspired many a story since.

One of these stories—Juliet—is the authorial debut of Anne Fortier.

We've all read, one way or another, some twist of the Bard’s original play. And if you’re a writer you may have written one yourself (I know I have). That’s not a crime—it’s a classic for a reason, after all. The real crime would be not doing the original piece justice—a crime Anne Fortier has not committed.

In Juliet, our author asks a question many historians have asked: “Were Romeo and Juliet real?” That question begins a magical adventure-filled ride through the beautiful Italian city of Siena.

Julie Jacobs is your average twenty-something year-old who doesn't know much about who she is; except for the fact that she's spent most of her life in the shadow of her flamboyant twin sister Janice. When their aunt Rose dies, Julie embarks on a treasure hunt that her mother, dead of twenty years, left to her.

As expected Julie's hunt is for gold and jewels, but the real mystery and treasure is buried in the histories of Siena and her family.

In Juliet, it turns out that Shakespeare didn't know how close to the truth he came when he wrote the words, “A plague on both your houses.” Julie crawls around in forgotten Siena tunnels, gets chased down cobblestone streets by some shrouded guy on a motorcycle, and unwittingly falls in love with both her destined enemy and her Romeo. Readers go on not one, but two, journeys as the novel flips seamlessly back and forth between Julie's story in the present and Romeo and Juliet's of 1340.

With too many plot twists to count, five centuries of family drama, and power struggles, Juliet can please any type of reader—whether you enjoy historical fiction, romance, adventure, or mysteries, Anne Fortier has managed to put it all in this very satisfying rewrite of a literary king.

It is a daring author who will take on Shakespeare with their first novel and a talented one who can do it so well. I wait with bated breath to see what comes next.

Written by: Nina Lopez-Ortiz, October 28th 2010

She's Gone Country

brittany — Sat, 16 Oct 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Jane Porter

Hachette Book Group

When I received Jane Porter’s second novel, I’d been sick in bed for nearly two weeks. Though the book helped pass the time, it did little to hold my interest. From this reviewer’s perspective, a true test of a novel’s worth can be answered with one simple question: Would I buy this book? As it pertains to She’s Gone Country, the answer is no, even if I were to set aside my general dislike of “chick lit.”

She’s Gone Country tells the story of Shey Lynne, a model who had a seemingly perfect marriage to a successful photographer. Essentially, she was one half of a glamorous New York City power couple—and then it all went to hell when her husband came out of the closet (a surprising twist, I’ll admit). Shey Lynne hightails it to Parkfield, the small Texas town where she grew up. It’s here that we’re introduced to her controlling Southern Baptist mother, rough and tumble brother Brick, uppity brother Blue, and the memory of her deceased brother Cody, a bi-polar schizophrenic drug addict who died too young and whose death haunts the family like a ghost.

It’s in this environment that Shey Lynne is raising her three sons, who are trying desperately to adjust to life in the sticks after enjoying a private school education and a privileged life in the city. Though much family drama ensues, the meat of the story is Shey Lynne’s relationship with Dane Kelly, a former bull riding champion and wealthy cattle rancher that Shey Lynne dated briefly but intensely as a teenager. At sixteen, Dane was her world, so her parents sent her off to boarding school to keep her from doing something stupid like getting pregnant or running off with Kelly while he rode the circuit. Fast forward twenty years and it’s immediately apparent that Dane still has the power to make Shey weak in the knees when they run into each other at a popular restaurant in their small town.

Shey’s constant, almost obsessive references to Dane’s masculinity; his strength; his big this and strong that; his virility; his tight jeans; his smell; his every goddamn thing becomes too much to bear a few pages into their rekindled romance—let alone 340 pages later. It’s the thing I hate about flowery love stories; they’re always flirting with sex and alluding to certain female feelings. I’d have nothing but respect for Porter’s work if somewhere in She’s Gone Country she included the sentence “Dane made Shey Lynne’s pussy wet.” That’s what we’re talking about; that’s the funny feeling Shey Lynne experiences “down there” every time Dane walks into the room.

She’s Gone Country aims to provide a snapshot of a family in transition and perhaps even feed the myth that everything happens for a reason. It supposes that even after a lifetime of heartbreak, some women get their storybook ending, and this is precisely why I disliked the novel. I prefer a bit more depth in my books, and I want writing that more closely adheres to reality.

Written by: Tina Vasquez, October 15th 2010

Dear Sandy, Hello: Letters from Ted to Sandy Berrigan

brittany — Mon, 11 Oct 2010 16:00:00 +0000

By Ted Berrigan, Sandy Berrigan, Ron Padgett

Coffee House Press

With the post office on the verge of collapse and Facebook statuses eclipsing emails (which not so long ago eclipsed snail mail), I fret for the future of love letters. Decades from now, letters that would have been discovered in a forgotten old box will instead wither away into password-protected oblivion. We will no longer indulge our imagination in the real-life lust and longing of by-gone days, at least not in their raw, unadulterated letter form.

Dear Sandy, Hello is a relic of that (not-so-distant) past when lovers put pen to paper (or typewriter) to express their affections. In this case, it’s a book full of Ted Berrigan’s daily missives on love, life, and literature to his wife and muse, Sandy Berrigan.

Dear Sandy, Hello is also a testament to the (also not-so-distant) past when a woman’s sanity was regarded in direct proportion to her obedience. Just days after Sandy’s marriage to Ted, a struggling-artist-cum-gifted-poet, she is forced by her parents to enter a mental hospital on the basis that “on the date of the marriage she was deprived of reason and incapable of exercising rational judgment.”

It was the uncomfortable awareness that it was a mere thirty-something years ago when a woman could be institutionalized for marrying the man of her choosing, alongside my fascination with the dying art of letter writing, that drew me to Dear Sandy, Hello.

The book opens with a telegraph dated February 13, 1962 from Ted to his friend Joe Brainard: “I was married today at two o’clock in the afternoon to Sandy Alper of Miami Florida. She is nineteen. I am twenty-seven.” A letter addressed to “My darling Sandy” immediately follows—and there begins three months worth of “Letters from Ted.”

For those who do not know Ted Berrigan, as I didn’t before reading this book, he is a prominent figure in the New York School of Poets. That is, he is the poet equivalent of a Jackson Pollack. He is most widely known for a collection of poems called The Sonnets.

His letters document the emotional ups and downs of two lovers torn apart in the height of their lust. As days pass, Ted shifts from zen-like compassion, insisting “that even those who seem to be hurting you love you... that is why I can bear them no malice,” to unforgiving, cold fury. Although written in reference to the specific injustices of their separation, the letters persuasively and poetically articulate a more general struggle against the majority that is hostile to the unconventional. Ted likens himself to Henry Miller and others—artists who resist comfort to be more alive and who ultimately are the “true prophets of the future.”

“Sandy’s Letters to Ted”—amounting to forty pages as opposed to his 200—only appear, incongruously and as though an afterthought, at the end. I read Ted’s letters with a nagging sense that I was missing something, and in the end I wished it’d been left that way. The Sandy of my imagination was more nuanced and intriguing than the woman captured in a few scant letters.

Whether professing his undying love, railing against society, or recounting the most recent book/museum/poetry that he’d explored, Ted’s letters flow as poems do—a web of vivid imagery and thoughts, impressions superseding logic. Taken as I was by the writing, ultimately I couldn’t stomach his artistic hubris overshadowing her injustice.

Written by: Alicia Simoni, October 11th 2010

Band of Angels

admin — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Julia Gregson

Touchstone

It might be said that at heart, Band of Angels is a love story. But the course of love between Catherine Carreg and her childhood friend Deio is a convoluted, meandering one. Catherine and Deio grew up riding horses together in Wales in the 1850s. But when Catherine matures, her family puts a stop to her adventures with Deio, seeing it as improper for a young lady. After her mother dies in childbirth, Catherine feels lost and isolated. She wants to go out into the world and study medicine so she can help save lives, as a way to redeem a personal failure that she couldn't save her own mother.

Catherine escapes Wales with the help of Deio, who is a cattle driver. She dresses as a man and goes to London with him on a drive. Upon reaching London, Deio seems to want Catherine to stay with him, but she rejects him outright, refusing to see him after their furtive journey together. Catherine's determination to become a nurse or doctor is rewarded when she is accepted into Florence Nightingale's school for nurses. When Nightingale abruptly leaves for the Crimean war, Catherine begs to go with her.

In the meantime, Deio realizes the railroad will soon make his job as a cattle driver obsolete. Looking for other ways to make a living, he decides to sell horses to the Allied forces in the Crimea. He takes a number of his horses to Balaklava, knowing that Catherine is somewhere near there, and hoping he will find her somehow.

Catherine and Nightingale's other nurses end up in Scutari, far from the front, where thousands of wounded and ill soldiers are hospitalized. Here, they live in squalor, and food is a luxury. Soldiers die of typhus and other diseases more often than they die of wounds suffered on the battlefield. This is the most fascinating part of the story, but it takes more than half the book to get us to this point.

Gregson's research is strong, and she succeeds in making Wales, and the cattle drive to London, come alive for the reader. But there could have been much more about Nightingale and the procedures she used in the hospital in Scutari to offer the reader historical insight. Nightingale is a filmy character here, difficult to relate to, and the war itself seems very distant as well.

It is true that Nightingale has been characterized as standoffish in reality, but still, she had the passion to take her across the world and into hospitals where no women had been allowed before. We don't see much of that drive here. Catherine's motivation for going to the Crimea needed further development, as well. In addition, it seems a bit of a leap when Catherine starts longing for Deio after she so assuredly rejected him. The love story seems almost superfluous at times.

In spite of some plot and character flaws, the book, overall, does succeed in drawing the reader into a brutal world that we want to know more about. This is one of those imperfect books that keeps you reading, looking forward to more like this: “Blood was the hardest thing of all to wash out; all of them wore it like a permanent stain. They spent most of their time on the wards trying to take it from their tangled hair and old bandages, from faces and dolls and pictures and handkerchiefs; strange what the men carried closest to their hearts.”

Written by: Natasha Bauman, August 31st 2010

Claire de Lune

admin — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Christine Johnson

Simon Pulse

Claire de Lune, Christine Johnson’s debut novel, is a good, but not standout, addition to werewolf lit. The simple way that this twist on werewolf lore is presented will make it a quick and satisfying read to ardent werewolf lovers, though it will have a tougher time winning the hearts of others.

In Claire de Lune, Johnson introduces us to a different type of paranormal world, in which only females can be werewolves. It’s not a feminist book, per se, but the dynamic that this sets up allows Claire to grow into a strong and self-reliant girl/werewolf. Here, it’s the girl protecting the boy, not the usual other way around.

Having a girl be the strength in a relationship would be a great story, but the book never fully lives up to its potential. Outside of Claire, I found the characters difficult to get to know, most of them only fitting roles expected to appear in a paranormal romance: the tensions among the werewolf group members, the love interest’s villainous father, the head-butting mother. I never found myself fully immersed in Claire’s family dynamics, with her mother’s Type A “bad parent” personality and their rather inconsequential au pair (who’s more a red herring than a useful character). All of Matthew’s father’s supposedly malevolent machinations and campaign against werewolves remained in the distant background and never fully took on immediacy.

I guess I’m just extra cynical when it comes to paranormal romances nowadays: it’s going to take a lot to make something stand out for me. Claire de Lune never reaches that point, but I have no doubt that it will find its audience as scores of werewolf lovers prowl the shelves for something equally supernatural and romantic after watching Twilight for the twenty-eighth time.

Written by: Steph Su Reads, July 4th 2010

Forbidden Passion

admin — Wed, 19 May 2010 23:59:00 +0000

By Rita Herron

Forever

Forbidden Passion is a paranormal romance centered around the relationship of Dr. Marlena Bender and Sheriff Dante Valtrez. Set in the small Southern town of Mysteria, the book begins with Marlena returning home to confront her troubled past. Twenty years before, Marlena witnessed the gruesome deaths of her mother and sister at the hands of two men in the woods. She was saved by Dante, then a local teenager.

Haunted by the events of that day, Marlena has pursued a career as a scientist, studying the genetic reasons for violent behavior. Dante, too, is haunted by that day, but for different reasons. He knows the truth about the attack on Marlena’s family: they weren’t attacked by men at all, but by a pack of demons; a pack that Dante himself used to be a part of. Ashamed of his dark past, Dante has devoted his life to protecting the citizens of Mysteria from the demonic forces that prey on them. Despite Dante’s resolve to stay away from Marlena, the two are thrown back into each other’s lives when a serial killer begins stalking Marlena, leaving her tokens from his victims.

This is the third, and I would presume final, book in Rita Herron’s Demonborn series. It’s your typical paranormal romance: the two main characters fight their mutual attraction to each other for half the book before finally succumbing to temptation. There are a lot of demon-related killings, as well as a prophecy and a high-stakes “good versus evil” showdown. Herron keeps the action coming at a pretty fast pace, so even though Forbidden Passion isn’t revolutionary, it isn’t boring either.

The book revolves mainly around the mystery/thriller aspect of the plot, throwing in bits of sexual tension here and there. This makes it a good read for those who prefer their romance novels to be driven by story instead of sex. In the end, Forbidden Passion was able to hold my interest for the duration of the book, but it wasn’t good enough for me to want to read the other books in the series.

Written by: Victoria Kroeger, May 19th 2010

Savor the Moment

admin — Thu, 06 May 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Nora Roberts

Berkley Trade

Sometimes when I finish a book, I can't help but feel that the experience has made me better in some way. Maybe that sounds really cheesy, but it's true. That's one of my favorite things about reading great classic literature: it just leaves you awestruck. I loved the wildness of Wuthering Heights, the subtle, brilliant emotions of Jane Eyre, the intricate story of A Tale of Two Cities, and the straight-up genius wit of Les Liaisons dangereuse.

There are modern writers who can move me, too, like in My Sister's Keeper. Avid readers know this. This is why we read. And then there are some books that, after you read them, you feel like part of your brain has been lobotomized. I give you Nora Roberts' Savor the Moment.

Maybe that sounds harsh, but I think it's justified. I like Nora Roberts, I really do. I've read almost all of her books. I've come to expect a formulaic, predictable story from her, but I'm okay with that. Hell, that's precisely why I read the romance genre in general. What I'm not okay with her trying to sell me shit. And I'm sorry, but that's what she's doing in this Bride Quartet series.

I wasn't particularly kind to the last installment in this series, Bed of Roses, but again, I was justified. Emma was effing annoying, and the way that Roberts expected the reader to accept that her behavior was rational and not insulting to all women was insulting to all women. I had hopes that the rest of the books would be better because my biggest problem with Bed of Roses was Emma's perfect life. Laurel, the heroine in Savor the Moment, is not perfect. But does Roberts delve into Laurel's issues in any depth? Does Roberts show us anything about Laurel outside of her love for the hero, Del? No. Seriously, folks, she doesn't. Laurel apparently has a background that I would have liked to learn about. But I never got that chance.

Come on, Nora. It's bad enough that you're writing four books about freakin' weddings. As if the wedding industry in this country isn't absolutely ridiculous in the way that they put all the focus on one day, you give us four women who make their livelihood out of catering to these self-absorbed people.

Not only that, but you present them in a really annoying way. These women never make freakin' mistakes. Ever. They always know exactly how to talk down a bride, or exactly which flowers they'll like, or exactly what cake they'll want. Every. Single. Time. Throw in some screw-ups every once in a while and we'll talk.

The worst is Mac, the photographer. This woman sounds like the kind of photographer that makes me hulk out. In the first book she did a pregnancy session where she made the pregnant lady get naked. Anyone who knows me knows I hate those kind of pictures with a passion that will never die. And I'm sorry, Nora, but it sounds like Mac has little to no imagination as a photographer. The bride is a florist? Let's shoot her in a garden! The groom is an English teacher? Let's shoot him with books! The couple met as children and shared a fondness for cookies? Let's shoot them with cookies! Please. I know wedding photographers that do amazing, amazing work and never result to that unimaginative shit.

But your worst transgression is the complete and utter failure to portray these women in a real way. They are obsessed with weddings, and even when the four friends are together, all they talk about is work or relationships. Oh, yeah, and sex. These women never shut up about sex. When they have it, they have to make mention of it. When they're not having it, they make mention of the others having it. Seriously, I don't know women like this. Don't they ever talk about important stuff? Current events, the economy, feminism, celebrity gossip, books they've read, etc? Nope. Just men. And weddings. And sex with men.

Look, I get that you've got a theme here. Each woman in this series needs to get a man in each installment of the series. But for the love of God, what is wrong with dating for a while? Emma and Laurel were with their respective men for about two months tops before they're distraught over whether or not the men want to be with them forever. For fuck's sake, what is the rush? Why can't a couple admit that they're in love more than five minutes before a marriage proposal?

As you can tell, I did not like this book. At all. But I will still read the last book, because I'm a masochist. And an optimist. Parker, the last heroine to be paired up, has the potential to be more multidimensional than all her man-crazy friends. She also comes across as truly independent and strong. But Nora, you've gotta step it up. You're getting lazy, here. Don't think we haven't noticed.

Cross-posted at The Bookshelf

Written by: Lindsey Simon, May 6th 2010

Erotic Poems

admin — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000

Edited by George James Firmage

W.W. Norton

Love, sex, and springtime are fundamental themes in E.E. Cummings’ lifetime body of work, and in Erotic Poems, editor George James Firmage brings together pieces by Cummings’ that are especially sexual, exalting of fertility, and written in a voice that is at once fresh and wise, evocative of the dumb yet utterly precise instinct to procreate.

These poems, and the line drawings (also by Cummings), were selected from the poet’s original manuscripts and are diverse in their eroticism, tone, and form. Representing a spectrum of sexual desire, thought, and impulse, the poems range from humorous to romantic, graphic to tender. Some are raw, even violent, while others are philosophical, and still others are playful but intelligent. My favorites led me to laugh, delighted by both the humor and the poetic genius in the verse, or else moved me to a deep sentimental ache at the beauty and tragedy of love and the existential anguish in its inevitable loss.

A particularly evocative poem entitled "ix." has a dark shadowy edge evoking the violence of both desire and of life itself, as well as a melancholy awareness of eventual extinguishment of life. It begins:

nearer:breath of my breath:take not thy tingling
limbs from me:make my pain their crazy meal

Then climaxes with:

flower of madness on gritted lips
and on sprawled eyes squirming with light insane
chisel the killing flame that dizzily grips.

And finally concludes:

thirstily. Dead stars stink. dawn. inane,
the poetic carcass of a girl.

This is not your run-of-the-mill erotica! From the sound of the words themselves to the use of unconventional syntax and spacing, the poems in this collection wind up to a climax after following a cadence that varies in texture, from rocky to sinuous.

Perhaps my favorite poem, because it hit me so squarely in the heart, is "vii." After the lovers have made love and:

all the houses terribly tighten
upon your coming:
and they are glad
as you fill the streets of my city with children.

Resting now, the lovers embrace, and it is Cummings' description of the melding of their bodies and hearts that, for me, so poignantly captures the sense of oneness between them:

you are a keen mountain and an eager island whose
lively slopes are based always in the me which is shrugging,which is
under you and around you and forever: i am the hugging sea.

The line drawings are themselves poetic, expressive, and emotional. Their style is reminiscent of Egon Schiele, Chagall, Picasso, and the deco illustrative style of the 1920s. (Interestingly, Cummings worked as a portrait artist for Vanity Fair magazine from 1924 to 1927.) The drawings are a great complement to the poems, as each holds large and complex movement, lovers' limbs and torsos twisting and twining around one another, floating in passion.

The book itself has been beautifully and simply executed; when I took Erotic Poems out of its mailing envelope, I had the sense of receiving a valentine. Its white cover is sparely punctuated by rose and black text and a shadowy crease evocative of the furrow at the center of an open book, or the entry point in clean white sheets ready to be mussed. The fashion in which the poems are headed—with non-sequential Roman and Arabic numerals—didn’t make much sense to me, but that wasn’t really a problem. There were poems that seemed to continue into one another and a few that could work as a triptych. While this may not necessarily be intentional on the part of the poet or the editor, it is indicative of the streaming and deeply subliminal nature of Cummings’ poetry and this collection in particular, which reveals the interior erotic landscape of both body and mind.

Written by: Matsya Siosal, April 29th 2010

Lunch in Paris: A Love Story, with Recipes

admin — Thu, 01 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Elizabeth Bard

Little, Brown and Company

While the memoir fad is nothing new, Elizabeth Bard’s new book confirms the emergence of a memoir subgenre to contend with: the memoir with recipes. In May 2009, the New York Times proclaimed these books as the brainchild of the “money-making imagination of the publishing industry.” Certainly, a spate of globe-spanning titles have followed, many born from blogs. However, the story of the American in Paris has long been a favored literary subject. It has sparked writers’ imaginations from Henry James to Anais Nin to Elaine Dundy to David Sedaris. Elizabeth Bard’s adventures in Paris have a more chick-lit feel to them than even Nin or Dundy, and have a liberal sprinkling of Julia Child and Peter Mayle throughout. In this recipe-infused book, Bard navigates a long-distance relationship with a French archivist, decides to move to Paris, and eventually gets married and builds her writing career.

At first, Elizabeth Bard’s life seems impossibly charmed, complete with buying the perfect apartment on the increasingly trendy Rue Oberkampf and negotiating cultural differences that seem more endearing and eye-opening than frustrating. However, what sets Bard’s writing apart from others of her nascent genre is her thoughtfulness and realism. She paints a very true and convincing portrait of herself as a driven, New York striver, bent on academic, artistic, and financial success at an early age and agonizing over why it has not yet arrived. While she is highly educated, she does not come from a place of easy breezy privilege, and in between recipes inspired by fresh finds at her Parisian market, Bard contemplates her family and personal history.

As much as it documents her courtship, relationship, and marriage to Gwendal, a digital archivist and entrepreneur, Lunch in Paris is about Bard’s acclimatization to a Parisian pace of life and ultimately, self-acceptance. Bard finds her stride by finally finding a peaceful balance between her Parisian and New York lives and selves. While this revelation is not particularly groundbreaking and her feminist-tinged reflections stay in safe mainstream territory, Lunch in Paris satisfies readers with a good story, intelligent and heartfelt reflections, and mouth-watering recipes. It’s not clear if these recipes have been kitchen tested the way one would for a professional cookbook, but they serve as solid guidelines for readers interested to add a French twist to their cooking.

While it may not become part of the Americans in Paris literary cannon, Lunch in Paris is a satisfying, straightforward read that feels like a good friend telling you a particularly tasty—and truthful—story.

Written by: Eleanor Whitney, March 31st 2010