Untie My Heart

Title: Untie My Heart (2002)
Author: Judith Ivory (Avon)
Period: European Historical-Victorian (1896 England)
Grade: D+

I'm too busy of late to recap any reading but that which is truly spectacular. Spectacularly good or bad does not matter. And Untie My Heart is a spectacular clusterfuck.

Judith Ivory is famous for adult romances about complex people. No secret babies or amnesia for her. Yet, sometimes Ivory lives so much in her own head that her writing is hard to connect with, at least for me. This book presumes that her reader is going to enjoy the minutiae of Stuart's family finances over a contested title (which I do not) and Emma's in-depth world of London confidence games (which I do). I've spent years looking for a romance that didn't talk down to me, but I don't want to open an Excel spreadsheet to folllow the financial plot contrivances.

The real meat of the story is the control that dominates the relationship between Emma and Stuart. This isn't just sexual control although Ivory includes that in a way I find disturbing. I've read my share of non-consent bodice rippers. Some I even liked. I'm well versed in the ideology behind BDSM. The pleasure is in willingly surrendering control. Not being tied to a chair, fucked by some dude who threatens to send you to jail, and afterward told that you enjoyed it so he is absolved of any guilt. In fact, he is especially proud of his prowess and flexibility on said chair. Emma spends the bulk of the book resisting Stuart's control in the con game and in their sex life while he suggests she is just an uptight prude who isn't as adventurous and worldly as himself. What the hell? She doesn't want to walk naked in a hotel or be bound during sex. She says she doesn't enjoy it. But that's okay, because even though she says no, she clearly means yes.

If Ivory wanted to write about BDSM sexual relationship I wish she had crafted a heroine who embraced surrender, not one who fought against it. That isn't hot or sexy. That just sucks.

To Love a Princess

Title: To Love a Princess
Author: Patricia Grasso
Period: European Historical-Victorian (1820 England)
Grade: D

To Love a Princess is a shitty Beauty and Beast knock-off. Judith Ivory's Beast this ain't. I'm sort of embarrassed that I finished this book. On the other hand, if I hadn't finished it, I'd have missed the sucktatstic conclusion. In keeping with the Disney theme, Grasso clearly did the bulk of her research on Russian nobility by watching the Disney version of Anastasia.

Princess Amber (could be worse, could have been Madison), the illegitimate daughter of the Czar, has fled the home of her evil guardian who plots to sell her into a white-slavery breeding operation. Sure. She travels alone across Europe to England to seek refuge with her cousins. How did she finance this adventure? Why didn't her evil guardian pursue her until after she was safely in England? If you ask any of these questions you are smarter than the characters in this book. Also, when the hero learns of the guardians plot he thinks it is ludicrous because slavery is unheard of in England. Even though slavery doesn't end in England for another decade and half. Grasso must not own an encyclopedia!

Miles, Earl of Stratford, was widowed and disfigured in a deadly house fire. His business partner, Amber's cousin, suggest Miles needs a wife and Amber needs a husband to protect her from the evil guardian. The Earl allows her to be his house guest (unchaperoned!) but does not offer to marry her. This is a-okay with her allegedly overprotective cousins. Miles still grieves for his wife and believes no woman would want a scared husband so he is chock full of Beta hero issues. He comes to care for Amber, but rather than offer her marriage he offers her a degrading proposition. Which she accepts for no damn reason. She is a beautiful princess with connection in both England and Russia. Why can't she enter society and find herself another husband? Why does she put up with his shitty behavior? He spends a lot of time insulting her for daring to intrude on his late wife's memory. Hey it isn’t like he invited her to stay at his home! They eventually marry. I get why Amber feels she needs a husband. I don’t get why she needs this husband.

Amber is also a junior Miss Marple who solves the mystery of the suspicious fire/murder in mere chapter. Thankfully the culprit set the fire with monogrammed lighter. Only your stupider romance villains do that. Amber is your typical romance heroine who is sweeter, smarter, and prettier than any woman the hero is ever known. Miles keeps his love a secret well after she has admitted her love because all good Beta heroes have to brood through at least 3/4ths of the book.

The pinnacle of the To Love a Princess comes when Amber disappears and Miles believes she has chosen to leave him. He ignores all evidence to the contrary and refuses to even search for his missing wife. Her cousin is forced to save the princess while Miles broods and feels guilty. He takes some very drastic steps in her short absence. The repercussions should be important to the plot and healing their relationship in a good romance. To Love a Princess, however, is a bad romance so Amber forgives him almost instantly without any serious discussions. How totally not romantic!

Family Man

Title: Family Man (1992)
Author: Jayne Ann Krentz (Pocket)
Period: Contemporary (Washington State)
Grade: D

The very nice woman who owns two of the local used bookstores always recommends contemporaries to me. She even gave me a free copy of Family Man in an effort to convert me to the genre. She is such a nice woman and has such great stores, I hoped that I'd love the book, my life long loathing of contemporaries would evaporate, and I wouldn't have to lie to the nice bookstore lady. No dice.

Why are contemporaries more old-fashioned than historicals? Few "contemporary romances" feel modern or realistic. It is like they're all set in some weird Pleasantville type 1950s netherworld that I can't identify. The woman all have a virginal naiveté that is out-dated, bizarre, and culturally inappropriate. Contemporary heroines are too often like Amy Adams in Enchanted. Our heroine, Katy, is supposed to come of as charming, but instead she seems like she's trapped in a time warp. She has been raising her brother since she was 19 but she doesn't know how to talk to him. She seems to think making homemade dinners equals good parenting. And if Krentz believes real teenagers talk like Katy's 17 year old brother she must be getting her "research" from episodes of Donna Reed. Of course, she's never had an orgasm until the hero comes along. She must be handless.

Those that are not of the Christian/baby variety only seem to have two settings, law enforcement (cops, private eyes, FBI agents) or high-powered corporations. The later is always the more entertaining option because romance novelists seem to have zero clue about what occurs in big business. The campy dialogue often reads like the business dealings on Falcon Crest. The company is always something "chick-friendly" like a fashion house, a vineyard, or a magazine.

Family Man, no exception, is set in a restaurant empire. Katy, our heroine, is the personal assistant of the family matriarch, but appears more like a family-fixer. The company is struggling, but she is so sweet and chipper she's sure it is no one's fault. The lesson: women just aren't cut out for the big bad world of business. Delicate flowers that we are.

The whole gender dynamic of strong man protects stupid, defenseless woman occurs repeatedly as Luke knocks heads and fixes disasters on Katy's behalf. Business, family, sex. Luke and his Y-chromosome is here to save the day. It is creepy. Why a successful man would be attracted to a woman who can't tie her own shoes is a mystery. I can suspend disbelief with historicals because social mores existed that prevent women from asserting themselves. That demanded they limit their sphere to home and family. And yet many historicals, including Krentz’s own, have smart, funny, and career minded women. I know feminist romance is an oxymoron, but contemporaries too often reflect Phyllis Scafly's view of womanhood and the world.

Now I have to lie to the nice bookstore lady.

Dangerous

Title: Dangerous (1993)
Author: Amanda Quick (Bantam)
Period: European Historical-Regencyish
Grade: D

I'm that last romance reader alive who still enjoys Amanda Quick's formulaic not-quite Regencies. So why was Dangerous so bad?

Sebastian, Earl of Anglestone has decided to entertain himself this season by courting "Original" Prudence. "Original" appears to mean a heroine with bad fashion sense. He wants to humiliate her foppish younger brother for reason's that are never made clear other than a deadly case of ennui. She attempts to dissuade him from the false courtship and a potential duel with her brother, however the two become entangaled in an investigation that is either criminal (Sebastian's theory) or spectral (Prudece's theory). They wind up betrothed and married amid the investigation which is a third rate who-cares who-done-it.

He is Quick's standard alpha hero. Brodding. Mysterious. Dangerous. Prue sport the antique name and curious hobby (spectral phenomena) that is the mark of all Quick off-beat heroines, but something is off. She doesn't have Harriet's intelligence, Pheobe's vulnerability, or Emily's determination. She is the kind of heroine who complains the hero won't allow her to rush into dangerous situation because "he doesn't want her to have any fun." Usually when a hero berates the heroine as "a little fool" it feels dated and weird. In Dangerous it feels apt.

Quick's writing lacks the zest and humor that signifies her early work here. In one telling example, Sebastian, an amateur criminal investigator, compares picking a lock to making love to his wife. When her character points out this oddity he offers a bizarre monologue comparing his wife (or perhaps her vajajay) to a lock. Quick offers the kind of lines that would have gotten any guy an elbow to the chops in high school as if they are clever, sexy, and romantic. They aren't. And neither is Dangerous.

The Seduction of an English Scoundrel

Title:The Seduction of an English Scoundrel (2005)
Author: Jillian Hunter (Ivy)
Period: European Historical-Regency
Grade: D

The Seduction of an English Scoundrel reads like a historical romance Mad Lib. The plot, characters, and setting are all familiar but appears to have been constructed together with no rhyme or reason. Hunter offers a standard cookie-cutter Regency without even enough historical elements to call itself a wallpaper historical. The hero is a handsome rogue with a heart of gold. The heroine is a beautiful bluestocking. Why a woman with no scholarly pursuits and the intellect of a cocker spaniel is considered a bluestocking offers some insight into Hunter's character development. Jane is smarter than the other women in the book, so perhaps her half-cocked schemes make her something of a Jeopardy finalist compared to the Grayson's "spunky" (read: annoying) sister. The plot revolves around a collection of ludicrous schemes and misunderstandings that throw our hero and heroine into constant contact for no discernable reason. They naturally fall in love, but rather than have an adult conversation about their feelings they engage in competing asinine plots to dupe the other into marriage.

The author stresses repeatedly that Jane and Grayson have never meet before despite

1. her lifelong engagement to his cousin;
2. his hosting her aborted wedding;
3. she, her "spunky" best friend, and his "spunky" sister are all friends;
4. they travel in the same Ton social circles, including Jane's family's annual attendance at Grayson's family ball.

The real failure of plot comes when book reaches a climax of discovery. Grayson has fallen in love with Jane. He believes she is love with him. He learns about her role in the conspiracy to stop her own wedding, confirming that she was never in love with his cousin. Does he confront her with the truth? No. Does he ask his love to marry him? Nope. He concocts a bullshit plan (with the support of Jane's dopey parents) to pretend he wants her only as his mistress. Hunter attempts to incorporate a sexual manipulation plot appears out of the blue in a novel that offers PG-rated sexuality throughout. At her raunchiest, she includes a double entendre about rhubarb. Yes. Really.

The Seduction of an English Scoundrel is a routine novel of misunderstanding that any romance reader has read before, only worse.