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I drove around the country again, and along the way (and after my return) I read a lot of genre fiction. Ielleen introduced me to Nevada Barr. I read (as opposed to listened to) Tony Hillerman's novels. Rachel gave me a Linda Howard novel. And I picked up two by Rachel Gibson and one by SEP. I listened to V1 of Simon Schama's History of Great Britain. In no particular order, here they are.
A Game of Chance, by Linda Howard
This Silhouette Intimate Moments sez "A brand-new Mackenzie story" from which I conclude that the secondary character couples in this book can be read about in more detail elsewhere. My sister handed this off to me as an example of what she looks for in a romance novel: bad boy, competent chick square off, would be a reasonable summary. Feisty is inadequate -- she actually has to be pretty good at taking care of herself.
As is almost always the case with romances, I Had Issues. First off, I'm a bit mystified as to why Sunny's emergency bag is a suitcase, and not a backpack. There are some spiffy, all-black, tailored looking packs out there, some with rollers, that would have made her life a lot easier, made her less susceptible to thieves, etc. The contents of the bag were also a bit iffy, but there's no need to get into that. Everyone has their own special packing strategy. No, what I'm really here to talk about is best captured in one particular sentence.
His extensive training in the martial arts had taught him how to cripple with a touch, kill with a single blow, but it had also taught him all the places on the human body that were exquisitely sensitive to pleasure.
I have a number of questions about this sentence and what it suggests about Chance, the martial arts he has studied, and his sparring partners. I can just hear some people out there sniping at me saying that pleasure and pain are closely related. To quote the immortal Monty Python, I fart in your general direction.
Linda Howard, like most romance authors and, arguably, most genre fiction, is the sort of book you will love if it's the kind of thing you like. Otherwise, give it a miss. They land in a nifty little pocket canyon and proceed to wreak havoc on it for no clear reason. They litter. They burn pinon pines they think are dead (I doubt that they are). They leave soap residue (near their sole seep, I might add, which suggests just how competent she is at survival), they kill the resident wildlife. No mention is made of sticking to particular routes, so they scar the thin biotic layer of soil and cause erosion that will continue years after their departure. Also, she engages in novice rock climbing without a partner and carves up the face of the cliff. Copyright date is 2000. Can we be a little more sensitive to the environment? Please.
Ill Wind
Blind Descent
Blood Lure
Deep South
Endangered Species
Firestorm
Hunting Season
Track of the Cat, by Nevada Barr
According to the one park service guy I've asked, Barr has a good rep within the service, accurate and a jumping off point for gossip about who she based various characters on. Anna Pigeon, the protagonist of these novels, is an NPS ranger, widowed some years ago who occasionally dates, always talks to her older sister Molly, the shrink, and has on-again-off-again problems with alcohol. Enough about that. I'm really here for the descriptions. In order: Mesa Verde, Carlsbad, Glacier, Natchez Trace, Cumberland Island, Lassen Volcanic, Natchez Trace again and Guadeloupe. These being mysteries, there is inevitably at least one body, and generally other crime somehow related to the body or bodies. I can't manage to read a lot of travel literature, but these are like candy. Somehow the combination of Anna getting to know a new work environment plus assorted forays associated with detection make for an absorbing way to become familiar with a park I might one day visit.
If you are contemplating trying one, later is generally better. Ranger Pigeon grows up a lot over the course of the books, kicks the alcohol abuse (mostly), gets over her dead husband and starts moving up in grade. But you won't go wrong picking by location, either.
I should probably note that I don't actually like the character, nor do I feel any particular affection for the author. Thus the fact that Barr regularly beats the crap out of Pigeon, usually setting Pigeon up for it by making her unbelievably stupid, doesn't particularly bother me. I'm reading these books for completely other reasons. That said, I periodically get extremely disgusted with Barr/Pigeon for repeatedly drop-kicking a protagonist. Whatever.
See Jane Score, by Rachel Gibson
I've read some Gibson before, and given her up, but Ielleen likes her so I figured I'd try another. This one was sublime. Female reporter covers flailing Seattle hockey team and sparks fly with goalie. I don't understand why he rode his motorcycle from Key Arena to what sounds like a five or six block away condo on Queen Anne -- a dangerous ride in the rain, no less, and it's not like the walk was going to kill him. Taking the bike out to Snoqualmie Falls, now, that's a fun run. If that were it (including he's guardian for a younger half-sister), it would be unmemorable. However, the reporter is moonlighting as an author of erotic not-quite-fiction and uses him for material. Aftermath is truly hilarious. Then I decided to read more Gibson. Big mistake.
Lola Carlyle Reveals All, by Rachel Gibson
Supermodel, struggling not to dip back into eating disordered, flake-of-the-month meets marginally competent covert ops guy when he hijacks the boat she's sleeping it off on. Hijinks ensue. She wears 3 inch Jimmy Choo's when they break into a residence later in the book. So not for me. I'm going back to not reading Rachel Gibson. I infinitely prefer her anal-frump-meets-testosterone-city to her girly-girl-encounters-law-enforcement books, but whenever I accidentally read the latter, I feel dirty for liking the former. Never again.
Breathing Room, by Susan Elizabeth Phillips
SEP has finally produced a non-Stars related book that I think is a keeper. Who knew it could happen? This time, it's a control-freak advice-book-author down on her luck meeting an actor who specializes in villains. Presumably to increase the demographic appeal, the majority of the action takes place in Tuscany, and revolves around a number of smaller points like, he's a fabulous cook. I won't get into all the stuff about procreation. Let's just say this is firmly aimed at a late 30s/early 40s professional woman, having career problems, recently dumped, vacationing in Europe to calm herself down and wishing she could find a man, fix the career and live happily ever after, preferably with their own children. Not exactly me, but apparently appealing to me nonetheless. This would worry me, as my theory about the target is an exact description of someone I loaned a lot of money to, and who declared bankrutcy last year, but I figure as long as I see her coming, I can be amused and make sure the checkbook stays locked up.
Coyote Waits, by Tony Hillerman
Hillerman's simple prose style, his descriptions of tribal lands and customs, and his always endearing cops work just as well for me when I'm reading them as when I'm listening to them. As I have recently started hiking in deserts, instead of just in greener (and colder) areas, I did a little reading about snakes. Hopefully, it won't spoil the book to note that the location of the snakebite is a lot more accurate than one might think. There are some seriously stupid people out there.
The Wailing Wind
A Thief of Time, by Tony Hillerman
Further adventures of Joe Leaphorn and Jim Chee, and, in the former, Bernadette Manuelito. The former is much more recent than the latter. As always, simple prose style, evocative depictions of Navajo lands and customs. Hillerman novels are generally about people letting their obsessions run off with them and, as a result, they or someone else winds up seriously injured or dead. The obsessions vary: climbers, those searching for gold mines or other treasures, academics with a bone to pick (so to speak), men trying to prove something to a woman they pursue, police officers unwilling to abandon a theory, even a comparative innocent riding a hobby.
On Thin Ice
Shadow Dance, by Susan Andersen
Reading romance novelists backwards is rarely a good idea, but with Andersen, the pain is compensated by insight. When she wasn't as enjoyable a read, the formula was a lot more obvious. It goes something like this.
An amazingly hot, passionate chick hasn't had much experience sexually, and what there was left her feeling a bit mystified about what all the excitement was about. She sublimates her sexuality into her job (cooking, dancing, ice skating, interior decorating -- do you sense a trend her? I sure do.), which she is very good at. She has one close female friend, who she loves dearly and confides everything to, and having a close female friend is also a relatively new experience for her. Her background involves overcoming financial hardship, possibly the loss of one or more family members and some amount of harassment that may or may not have been sexual in nature. But she overcame. Oh, and she's a natural blonde with olive skin and dark eyebrows.
An amazingly hot, muscular man with a been-around-the-block look is suspicious of her for some reason, and investigating her and/or a situation involving her. He's in that situation under a false name and history on behalf of a friend or family member. His past is a bit more variable. Usually there are some family members he is close to, and some he is not. His job is violent in nature, but nominally legitimate (e.g. he's a soldier, but does covert work). Usually he is not investigating her for his official job, which he is on leave from, but in any event, at the end of the novel, he will change jobs and/or cities in order to be with her so she can continue to pursue her career (I find this vastly charming).
There is immediate chemistry. Neither is inclined to pursue it at first, although both acknowledge it, and he breaks before she does. As more bad stuff happens, and they are thrown together in a series of highly stimulating circumstances, his efforts to raise her awareness of him sexually pays off and they at least start dry humping upright and she wraps her legs around his waist (when I said there was a formula, I so wasn't kidding). They are interrupted or come to their senses and part. Eventually, he breaks her down enough to have sex and they use a condom. Her ankles wind up on his shoulders (I wish I could say that with high heels still on is part of the formula, but it turns out they're off in the earlier novels, so I can't tell if the formula has actually changed or this is within the natural variation). More sex occurs (not always with condoms), possibly that night, definitely in later nights. Generally under the rubric of her safety, they live together, a situation expedited by the fact that one or more of them isn't at a regular fixed address currently anyway. (In one notable situation, they start out living together, which is why I can't say they move in with each other at this point in the formula.) At this point, he doesn't think she's evil any more, but he hasn't told her his real identity/agenda or that he once suspected her.
Of course, she finds out. Sense of betrayal. Big fight. He apologizes repeatedly. She is too proud to accept. Her friends remonstrate. She withholds information crucial to identifying the real perp and defusing the situation. She winds up in jeopardy, and at least partially extricates herself from it. He completes the rescue, possibly with assistance from other comrades-in-arms. By now, he's sworn to leave her alone after this is over, but they have had to maintain appearances for others. Injuries have occurred. A hospital reconciliation ensues. Happily ever after.
There is almost always a secondary romance, usually involving her confidant. The male half is much less well defined. He might be an old compatriot of one of the primaries. He might be a new comrade-in-arms. He might be a suspect in the current situation. He might be some combination of the above. Their relationship is a miniature form of the main one. Meet, chemistry (usually he's distracted by an evil woman), make out, part, lots of revelations occur, cautiously decide to try to work things out, probably happiness will ensue but nothing is definite at the end of the novel.
Having finally hauled this formula out into the light of day, I'm forced to confront the following question: am I reading these books because Andersen is some truly fine one-handed reading material ('cause she is), or does this formula get me where I live? That isn't an exclusive or in the question, either. Given that one of my other favorite authors in this genre is Jennifer Crusie, and the major difference in formula between Crusie and Andersen is that in a Crusie novel, usually one or both of the primaries actually is crooked, I'm forced to conclude either (b) or all of the above.
Shakespeare's Champion
Shakespeare's Christmas
Shakespeare's Trollop
Shakespeare's Counselor, by Charlaine Harris
I picked up Shakespeare's Landlord in paperback a while ago, as it was by an author who I encountered in her Sookie Stackhouse series, in which she attempts to out-Laurell K. Hamilton Laurell K. Hamilton (relatively successfully, as it happens, and at least Harris' novels are improving, which is more than can be said for the woman who recently gave us Cerulean Sins. I have a simple piece of advice for women who want to follow in the bodily-fluid-steps of Hamilton and Harris: less fucking, more violence. Lots more violence, perpetrated, ideally, by the hot chicks against the monsters. Thank you.).
Furthermore, the Lily Bard novels, while mystery, rather than romance, incorporated a number of my reading obsessions: the South, small towns, martial arts and housecleaning. What's not to like? Well, I never care for an author who beats the crap out of her heroine, and boy has a number been done on Lily Bard. The backstory is a horrific abduction/gang rape/mutilation, one participant in which gives her a gun containing a single bullet, which she (sensibly) uses against her abductor when he returns, but (understandably) then agonizes over, particularly in the wake of the media sensation associated with her survival. Recovery is a slow process (boy howdy). That's all rather unfortunate. The good news is, Lily Bard loves to walk around after dark, is fully capable of and willing to kick the shit out of the deserving, and spends a good chunk of the novels noting and contemplating the personal lives of the people in the small town of Shakespeare, where she cleans houses for a living. Eventually, she works her way around to becoming an investigator, makes friends and starts having regular sex. All in all, a satisfying series of novels, with interesting sidelights on racial tensions, how families cope with one of their members being horrifically victimized, group therapy, reality TV and its intersections with actual reality, the glorious wackitude of martial arts instructors and members of the fitness industry in general, and the uses of compulsive exercising to deal with inner demons. As near as I can tell, only the first novel has made it into paperback, so hie yourself to the library and snap these puppies up while you can.
Woman's Guide to Sea Kayaking, by Shelley Johnson
Liberty Fallilng, by Nevada Barr
I've read Barr novels before and after this one, in which Pigeon Two returns to NYC to monitor Pigeon One's progress in ICU, complete with the reappearance of Frederick. I watched X-Men on DVD immediately after reading this, which supplied the visuals of a park I haven't actually visited (I was last in the city in 1986, and the lines were insane immediately after the statue reopened). While I am still largely indifferent to seeing the Lady, I would like to see Ellis, but may wait for further restoration.
Talking God, by Tony Hillerman
Don't Look Back, by Amanda Quick
Light in Shadow, by Jayne Ann Krentz
As the summer continues unseasonably warm and lovely, I find it more and more difficult to even think about reading anything other than genre fiction. Fortunately, a number of old favorites have a few left that I haven't read yet. The JAK novels are new, but the library supplied them, saving me the appalling prospect of paying hardback prices. The historical is another Lake and March mystery/romance with mesmerism sidelights. Yes, she did work in the old masturbation machines. I saw that coming based on the newspaper ad Lavinia pursued. Amazing the historical details that find their way into trashy fiction. JAK also nicely portrays the downstream effects of women who abuse those in their charge, in both novels. One could say there was a theme.
The contemporary retreads, with a gender switch, material from a pair of novels she wrote a while back (Gift of Fire/Gift of Gold), right down to the reappearance of the last name Ames. Hmmm. Enjoyable nonetheless.
A Superior Death, by Nevada Barr
Anna does what may be the stupidest thing yet in this book (let's just say it involves nitrogen and call it good). I liked the side characters Tinker and Damien, particularly the boating accident with serious injuries bit. Other than that, a good example of why later is better for most genre authors, especially with this particular character. This one's set in Isle Royale. I'd love to visit.
Issola, by Steven Brust
I started reading Brust when a then-friend told me if I really wanted to understand him, I should read these books, and handed me a couple Vlad Taltos novels. If I'd been half as clever then as I thought I was, I'd have handed them right back, and said, No Thanks.
It's not that Brust doesn't have his place in the world of trash fiction. It's just that even young men shouldn't be saying things like that, and when they do, one ought to walk away. At least I ought to walk away (and being considerably older now, I do). In any event, I no longer purchase Brust, but the library is still fair game. This novel is a good example of the why science fiction and fantasy retain ghetto status in many respects. Insular, even incestuous, long past the it's cute point. A few nice details, but not nearly as many as I would like. I'll read one more, and then I'm stopping. This series has reached the phase where all of the characters onstage are legends. Every last one of them. Never a good sign.
Late for the Wedding, by Amanda Quick
Some time last year, I was at a JAK signing (if you have to ask relevance, you are clearly out of your area in this review), and someone asked why it was always the man who was the geek, and the woman who was the sensitive/expressive/psychic. Krentz replied, refreshingly honest, just like her books, that she just kept writing her own romance with her husband over and over again. The person persisted. Sure, but can't you swap genders. This gave Krentz pause and she said she hadn't thought to, but now she might. Well, I think she did. Priscilla is a secondary character in this third entry in the Tobias and Lavinia Chronicles, a friend of Emeline and probably eventually to be connected into the expanded family. Unlike some authors I could name, Krentz knows exactly where she gets her ideas and doesn't mind if other people find out. Sweet. Always read romance authors forward.
This time out, the plot and themes revolve around the hazards of marriage for women of all ages, and how oblivious to these issues even the very good men can be -- but how well they listen when they have the opportunity to find out, and how compassionate, understanding and flexible they are when they've internalized that realization.
This Must be Love,by Kasey Michaels
Marginally entertaining. I tend to find neat freak characters in books amusing if well depicted, and the woman in this one was a good example. As depictions of politics go, so-so, altho I will note that the denouement was vastly amusing.
Unfortunately, this novel is also a good example of the following which I find frustrating and at times infuriating. This time out, the man's described as having a fabulous body, the result of working out, not what one would expect of a nerd (which he's unsuccessfully trying to present himself as). But he eats crap, and we never do see him work out in the course of the several days the novel encompasses. I've run across this exact formula before, but the general case also happens (character described as nurturing, backstory supports, but for the duration of the novel, they are backbiting, self-centered and generally obnoxious and celebrated for finally taking something for themselves by their oldest friend, but of course all the people who have been taking advantage of them over the years are horrified, for example).
I do get that romance novels are flights of fantasy, come as you aren't kind of Halloween masqued balls. I get that. Really. But I, for one, would give a lot to reliably read about the dude with the impressive physique taking his morning constitutional and perhaps breaking into a sweat while moving heavy furniture around. Surely that wouldn't detract, now would it? If we modelled the behaviors that lead to physical fitness in novels, maybe more of us would engage in them, wouldn't we? Instead of continuing to eat the crap and avoid physical exertion and just sort of wish that a fantastic body would happen to us?
Eating Thin for Life, by Anne M. Fletcher
Fletcher, unhappy with reading statistic after story of people who lost a bunch of weight only to gain it back and more, went looking for people who got it off and kept it off, found them and wrote about them in this book and a previous one. The themes are what one would expect from the world before Atkins became respectable: get the fat down to around 20%, increase fiber, eat lots of vegetables, avoid red meat, added fat and sugars. The group exercises, for the most part, mostly walking. While body composition numbers are not supplied (for that matter, neither is height and weight, or BMI supplied consistently -- these aren't necessarily people who are of a healthy weight. Just healthier), I get the impression these are not athletes, not heavily muscled, not even cardiovascularly impressive from a fitness perspective.
Some great research has been done in recent years about how exercise interacts with appetite, satiety and weight control, and the role of fat in satiety (as opposed to fullness). Fletcher is presenting one third of a more complex story. That said, it's a useful one third.
Reefer Madness, by Eric Schlosser
Soooooo much better than Fast Food Nation. Run right out and buy your copy now. Suddenly, those jokes about Mexicans who don't speak Spanish will cease to be funny and you will feel the racist, classist turd you unwittingly are. Also, you will be reluctant to eat strawberries. Great stuff, particularly about the porn industry.
The Paths of the Dead, by Steven Brust
This first installment of the Viscount of Adrilankha is slow-going, although this reader eventually became accustomed to the pace. I'm glad I got it from the library. I'll probably get the next installment from the library.
At times, during the course of this book, it appears that some of the characters on stage are not and will not be legends in the universe. Who knows it that will prove true in the end.
Complications: A Surgeon's Notes on an Imperfect Science, by Atul Gawande
Sort of like Turow's One-L only for the last year of a surgical residency. Enlightening and appealing, Gawande's loyalty to his chosen profession (and his parents' profession) is clear, yet he is troubled by its warts. He defends its protective institutions, like M & M. He is dismissive of the means used to attack it, like managed care and litigation. He makes telling observations about systemic changes made in anesthesiology a couple decades back that could be usefully applied throughout health care but, crucially, have not yet been made. But for me, the most fascinating sections were the ones about hyperspecialization (Shouldice) and learning curves (turns out teamwork pays even in surgery). There are lessons here for every profession, and warnings for all of us who will, sooner or later, be at the mercy of this very antiquated profession.
The Ring on her Finger, by Elizabeth Bevarly
Bevarly writes rich 'n' famous people, but unlike some novelists, she does it with an attention to detail that is simultaneously entertaining and appalling -- like a good screwball comedy, which I know informs her approach.
In this outing, we have a large number of people running from secret sins in the past: a terrorist, someone who maimed the woman he loved driving too fast, someone with an outstanding warrant for murder and, that classic of bad teen movies, the guy who fell in love with the virginal woman he started dating to win a bet.
The dyslexia subplot is amusing, and of course I always enjoy novels in which housecleaning plays an important role. And a good chunk of the book is set in the south.
The Woman Most Likely To, by Jennifer Greene
I Think I Love You, by Stephanie Bond
Two novels about dysfunctional families, each focusing on three women (in the first, grandma, mom and daughter, in the second, three sisters). Both novels also involve unfinished business with past lovers and almost-husbands. Makes me wonder.
Greene does a nice job portraying women who are individually and collectively trying to figure out why they've had bad luck/made bad choices involving the men in their lives and blaming each other in part, but also trying to force each other to improve.
Bond uses similar themes, but where Greene is content to use the material of ordinary life (reentering romantic life after a husband dies, parenting a grown child, making decisions about a wanted pregnancy with an unwanted father, career changes, and comparing notes on perceptions of the past), Bond introduces an old murder, a new murder and sundry thefts as metaphors for the damage that family can wreak upon itself -- often under the guise of protecting each other.
Knock Me Off My Feet, Susan Donovan
Full House, Janet Evanovich
Two dippy and unremarkable romance/mystery novels.
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Copyright Rebecca Allen, 2002.
Created: March 12, 2003 Modified: August 2, 2003