Smart Bitches Trashy Books | All of the romance, none of the bullshit.

The pace is fast, and the methods used to reveal the technical details of a world far, far into the future work without visible bumpy seams. There’s no info dumping. There’s clever uses of teacher/student dialogue to educate the reader, and there’s explication that makes sense in context. It seems like such an obvious rule: Don’t Dump Backstory on the Poor Reader. Backstory is heavy and I don’t have enough grocery bags in the house to carry it all. And yet so many stories set in worlds that require building lift up the dumptruck and let it all slide down in the first 15 pages. Barry? Oh no. Her dumptruck is lean, mean, and moves at the speed of light, dropping morsels of information that not only set up the universe in which the story is set, but entice the reader with clues to the characters’ strengths and skills. I can’t underscore how much I have learned to appreciate good world building since reading for this site has expanded my reading into fantasy, sci-fi, and future-set romances.

The story opens on Torrie Masters, only daughter among the heirs to Masters Shipping, on her maiden voyage as Captain of one of the fleet vessels. Her crew has abandoned ship on her orders, and she’s chosen to stay behind to try everything she can think of to stop the engine core from melting down. Meltdown = ship explodes into billions of itty bitty pieces, Torrie included. 

The ship’s control console goes dark, the computer’s mellifluous female voice is silent (after Torrie repeatedly threatens to turn the voice into a man’s due to the computer’s inability to multitask effectively), and Torrie is left in silence gazing at millions of stars, waiting for the ship to blow up - only it doesn’t.

A huge pirate ship blots out the stars in front of Torrie’s window, and assumes command of her ship remotely, allowing the pirates to board and take over control of her ship. Qaade, the pirate captain, comes aboard to take over the ship and search the cargo hold. Torrie, however, is not going down without a fight.

This is about the point where Sarah wanted to repeatedly smack herself for not giving space romances (say that with the echo pedal on- spaaaaaace roooooommmmaaaaaaaaaance!) more of a chance. Barry combines several sharp elements, such as a strong, smart, and clever heroine, a tortured, noble hero, and sets them in a blisteringly fast paced story that touches on ethics, slavery, corporate responsibility, and lawlessness serving up more effective justice than the law itself. Unmasked is written with facile interweaving of several different story threads such that each person’s narrative advances at the same time - there’s no division of chapter where this one is about the hero and heroine, and the next is about the heroine’s best friend and her secondary romance. Barry expertly maintains a whuppass pace while maintaining the story of each character, and never letting the reader lose interest or lose track of what’s happening to who, and how come.

As usual, a strong and ass-kicking heroine meeting a strong and ass-kicking hero makes for excellent romance, but in this case, the ass-kicking comes from different sides of the law, and therein lies a great deal of conflict. Torris is bound by her own moral code and sense of honor based on law, family loyalty, and professional behavior in light of her family’s company. Qaade is bound by his own sense of honor based on commitment to save the lives of slaves, ambition to build his cause without interference from the law, and solve his own personal mystery. Qaade considers the law and the slave traders equally his enemy.

Finding their way to a happily ever after therefore involves the possibility of compromising personal ethics. Torrie has to accept Qaade’s piracy and what that means to her company, and also the potential truth that her family’s corporation and the society in which she lives have been advancing slavery by unknowingly trafficking in memory-washing drugs. Further, she herself may be complicit by being quiet when other sectors legally allow people’s memories to be washed away so that the remaining person is an empty shell to be commanded and directed at will.

Qaade has to accept that it’s time for him to accept help and trust other people - even people who live within the law - to make a significant difference in reducing the trade of human slaves in his galaxy, and that he cannot continue his mission to eradicate slavery on his own.

Even with the complicated personal issues working between the protagonists, my enjoyment was derived from Barry’s plot, in that it dealt with a question I think about frequently: what is the most effective way to create a change when said change must be made? As I said in an earlier entry, sometimes change requires operating quietly from within the system you want to change, slowly working to shift the direction of progress so that people working along side you adopt your methods and work as a team to create a difference. Sometimes, you have to storm the castle from the outside and scare the crap out of people, forcing them to adopt a new way of action.

In this novel, the issue is slavery and human trafficking. Qaade is used to storming the castle: stealing ships, evading the law, and doing what he pleases as an outlaw to the police and an enemy to slave traders, knowing that his actions serve a greater good that only he and the slaves he frees can wholly understand. Torrie works within the law alongside friends in intergalactic law enforcement, and her family stands to lose a great deal if she chooses illegal methods in her efforts to help Qaade. Finding a balance between the two characters, their respective missions, and their moral codes makes for taut reading. Add to that a quick moving plot that involves ethical questions that don’t have simple answers, and ahoy, thar be compelling reading.

The only problem I had with the characters involved Qaade’s refusal to be flexible, even if bending would allow him the chance to be with Torrie. It fits entirely with the noble solitude of his character, but there were times that he treated Torrie shabbily to the point where he needed to grovel more than he did. However, even if I wanted to smack him upside his stubborn head, Torrie understood his character enough to forgive and move on, allowing them both to grow in ways that make for satisfying romance.

A lot of discussion lately has revolved around rules of romance, and what can or cannot, should or should not be done - and if there are rules, how to break them. This book, which won the 2006 BWAHA Award for Best Paranormal: Sci-Fi/Fantasy Novel, follows some of the more essential rules of writing good romance. The characters should allow each other to evolve in such a way that, without the other, each one would be less than when the book started. There’s a satisfaction in seeing attraction and love heal, grow, and develop people into even better versions of themselves, and that satisfaction is certainly found in this book.

Devil’s Cub is the sequel to These Old Shades and features the son of the protagonists from Shades. Dominic is the definition of wastrel, and Heyer doesn’t excuse away his debauchery in the least: he gambles, he drinks, he drinks while he gambles, all to the despair of his mother and the anger of his father. As Marquis of Vidal, Dominic is held in high social regard, a regard he tries to chip away with each evening’s activity.

Currently his sights for romantic interlude are set on Sophia Challoner, a beautiful young woman with aspirations of grandeur almost as high as those of her mother, though the family resides far, far from nobility or even gentility. Sophia is stunning, and she and her mother both expect that the attentions of the Marquis of Vidal will lead to a proposal, even if a forced one due to the man’s actions, and are counting on Sophia’s looks and charm (and complete lack of sense) to elevate them from their poor status.

Sophia’s older sister, Mary, the much more intelligent and sadly less attractive of the daughters, is horrified at Sophia’s lack of self-preservation. She tries to keep Sophia from throwing away her virginity, knowing full well that the Marquis only sees Sophia as a dalliance, and certainly not as a future wife.

When Mary intercepts an illicit invitation from the Marquis to Sophia, she decides to pose as Sophia to save Sophia’s reputation, even though the shallow little twat doesn’t deserve her sister’s loyalty, in my opinion.  And once Mary is trapped in an untenable situation with Dominic, the incredible parts of the book don’t stop until the end - and then, if you’re like me, you’re somewhat pissed off that the book is over.

Heyer does a wonderful job of setting up the depth of the hero and heroine before they meet and begin to interact, and it wasn’t until their deliciously snappy dialogue - snappy in the sense of sparks flying off the page - that I could appreciate the setup of Mary and Dominic’s meeting, slow and tedious though it was. Parts of Dominic’s character are revealed through gossip and through ancillary characters’ discussions of his own merits (or lack thereof). Parts of Mary’s are revealed through the narration, though her actions reveal what the narrator hints at. It’s a huge payoff- once the reader gets through the period of time introducing the reader to the protagonists, and the depth revealed about each one, the delight of watching Heyer place all the players in action is addictive. Thank God it’s not that huge a book or I’d have gotten exactly nothing done all weekend.

In addition, her prose is wonderful in that it doesn’t reveal too much by telling. The revelations as the protagonists come to care for one another are in tiny drops, but they’re contained in segments of narration that I had to go back and read over and over. For example:

Miss Challoner hunted for her handkerchief, and blew her little nose defiantly. It was a prosaic action. In her place, Sophia would have made play with wet eyelashes. Further, Sophia would never have permitted herself to sniff. Miss Challoner undoubtedly sniffed. Lord Vidal, whom feminine tears would have left unmoved, was touched. He dropped her hand on his shoulder, and said in a softer voice: “You’ve no need to cry, my dear. I told you, I don’t ruin ladies of your quality.”

Mary’s reasons for trying to avoid any ties to Dominic, though somewhat naive, demonstrate her intelligence and her innate nobility. She doesn’t want to be forced into anything, but moreover, she knows her station in life, and doesn’t want him to be forced into alliance with her or her family. Moreover, she doesn’t see that Dominic should sacrifice himself when she’s more than willing to work as a seamstress or a housemaid if she has to, given her ruined reputation.

But the interplay between them both is much deeper than mere plot progress. The questions of what is nobility, and who has it (and why) create the underpinnings of this novel. Nobility, to Heyer, is a quality not determined by birth status, but by character. In the beginning, Mary has more nobility than the Marquis, and while he is of much higher social status, he has to become worthy of her. Moreover, Mary’s nobility is a product of her own generosity and bravery as well as her intellect, and transcends her own status, as well as the negative influences of her very shallow sister and her ambitious, selfish mother.

The only part I didn’t like was the insincerity in the end of the book on the part of the Duchess, Leonie, who was her typical outspoken and somewhat adorable self, even as she pronounced loudly within Mary’s hearing that she didn’t want her son to marry someone as base as Mary. Clearly a Duchess wouldn’t come right out and apologize because, well, she wouldn’t have to, but I closed the book thinking that Mary would probably get on better with the Duke than with her mother-in-law, and that this was a bit of a shame, since I enjoyed Leonie’s character.

Aside from the utter novelty of reading a book first published in 1932, the story was set in a period a good bit before the much-written-about Regency. No mentions of Prinny here - but powders, patches, fans held by men, and the wonderfully-named Macaronis are everywhere. Since this isn’t a period of historical metrosexuality that I have often read about, it was particularly fascinating.

But by far the most fascinating part was reading a book held in regard so highly by so many different writers and readers. There’s no small amount of disagreement in tastes in romance novels, as we’ve amply demonstrated here a few times, but I’ve heard nothing but sighs and squee about this book, and others by Heyer. I’m happy to add my own sigh-age and squeeage to the crowd. Damn, this book was wonderful.

When Michelle Styles first emailed me about her book (again, length of time ago, very embarrassing, much apologies) and told me that it was set in ancient Rome, 65 B.C. to be precise, my first thought was, “Now that’s a time period we don’t see much of.” But following that thought, coming up to kick it’s behind, was the realization that there is a lot of fascination with the ancient Romans lately, particularly with the dishy and dramatic HBO series Rome, which is about to start a new season (if it hasn’t already). Talk about timing - you can get yourself some Roman romance & intrigue in books and on tv.

Ancient Rome is a brilliant setting for a romance. Much like there are strict social rules in Regency England, and the periods before and afterward, there were equally strict rules in Roman society, and thus reading The Gladiator’s Honour was both innovative and familiar - a classic romance in an entirely new and very interesting setting.

Julia Antonia, a divorced Roman noblewoman, is visiting the baths with her stepmother when she meets Valens the Thracian, one of the most revered gladiators in the city. Much like half of New York when the Yankees are in the playoffs, Rome is Gladiator-mad, and Julius Caesar has decided to assemble the gladiators for a spectacle in honor of his late father. The gladiators themselves are arriving and causing a stir in the streets when Julia leaves the baths to go see what the fuss is about. She runs literally right into Valens.

As a hero, Valens is delicious. He is of noble lineage, but was captured by pirates years prior, and his ransom was never paid. He ended up attending gladiator school, but as a gladiator he’s a slave to his owner, and considered by Roman society to be of even less worth than a slave. Fighting in the arena as a gladiator is a permanent stain that places one outside polite society and one cannot remove it. Yet the gladiators are objects of sexual fantasy and the equivalent of sports heroes at that time, and as such can amass great wealth, fame, and popularity. Still, no family would welcome a gladiator as a son-in-law. It would be more than a small scandal. So Valens has women offering themselves to him, small children asking for his attention, and most of Rome on their tiptoes waiting to see what he’ll do in the arena, but as a person he’s socially worth less than nothing.

Thus Valens is forbidden fruit - sexy, muscular, and kind forbidden fruit - but this means little to Julia, except for the sexy and kind part. Julia isn’t a fan of the games and isn’t remotely interested in the gladiators themselves. When she meets Valens, he’s startled that she speaks to him as a person, not as a lovesick fan or as a superior. And since she’s never heard of him, and isn’t impressed by his accomplishments, he’s even more curious about her. She sees him merely as himself, which is an intoxicating experience for a worthless slave who has figurines of himself for sale all over town.

Julia is equally curious about him, not because he’s a gladiator, but because he’s hot, and, to her own surprise, she noticed. She divorced her husband, much to the dismay of her stepmother, because he beat her, and as a free woman has a unique position in Roman society. The devil she knows, her stepmother, was a much better adversary than the devil she came to know through her bruises, so she left him and chose to move home to her father’s house. Julia is trying at every moment to live her life according to the ideal of Roman womanhood while navigating the mercurial temper of her stepmother, who forced Julia’s first marriage to get Julia out of her way, and maintaining a scandal-free life so as not to upset her father’s precarious position of favor in Caesar’s Senate. Her attraction to Valens is unacceptable, and while she’s proud of herself for conversing with him easily and pleased that he noticed her, she is horribly conflicted about her interest in him.

Fortunately and unfortunately for both, Caesar has to have the gladiators housed in small groups in private homes, because the Senate fears that the gladiators en masse constitute a private army solely at Caesar’s command. Valens is placed in Julia’s father’s home, which horrifies her stepmother Sabina, and pleases her father, since hosting such a prominent gladiator, even if they are socially beneath the family’s status, is a sign of Caesar’s favor. They are forced into contact inside her father’s home, and their attraction grows to irresistible levels.

Yet there are forces working against them beyond Valens’ status as a gladiator. Valens discovers the treachery that caused his slavery and who was behind it, and both Julia and Valens find their interest in one another has larger ramifications politically than they suspected, even as they try to keep it a secret.

What I liked most about this book was finding a writer who can master a new twist on romantic themes - the captive noble hero trying to redeem his honor, the heroine trying to live up to unattainable ideals yet forced to take enormous personal risks for her happiness, and the negotiation of an illicit relationship within the confines of strict social rules and norms - all of which set in a time period that isn’t common for historical romance.

Styles has a lot of talent working in her favor as well: her writing style is lyrical, and her grasp of the historical time period is significant, but both combine to allow friendly access to a reader who isn’t at all familiar with ancient Rome. Further, her writing establishes romantic tension and sustains it through the story, so that the reader can root for the characters immediately as the setting and cast are introduced in the first few pages. This book has a big ol’ hook hiding in its toga and it’s not afraid to sink it into the reader.

And how’s the romance? Satisfying! Both characters serve as catalysts for change in each other, which I always enjoy, but both have to endure personal risk and hurt to earn their happy ending. Even then, Styles makes it clear that there can be no events that fall outside the possibility of Roman law. Valens and Julia have to find their way within the society in which they live, and while that means the ending might be disappointing to some who see the characters as having earned more than they received, Styles’ commitment to legal and social accuracy is commendable for its own sake, and for the fact that it leaves the reader feeling as if they’ve grasped some understanding of Roman society and thus some understanding of the ending of the story.

The realism is my only disappointment and it’s selfish disappointment at that. I wanted more to happen to the negative forces working against Julia, not just those who betrayed Valens. A righteous Roman bitchslapping here and there for her stepmother might have been nice. But regardless of my own personal desire for bitchin’ slappery, The Gladiator’s Honour was a marvelously enjoyable book.

Virginia Sauter is the newly-appointed drum major at her rural Alabama high school. She’s also a former beauty pageant queen who rebelled, cut her hair off, pierced her nose, quit the majorette squad and went band. WAY band. So far band that she was voted co-drum-major.

Unfortunately for Virginia, she shares drum major responsibilities with Drew Morrow, who held the position solo last year, and who has some degree of resentment about sharing the position with a girl this year. There’s never been a girl drum major, and to make matters worse, in their first performance, they suck.

Even worse: Virginia has had a crush on Drew for a long, long time, and he refuses to acknowledge that she exists - a decision that certainly contributes to their suckiness as drum majors.

Seems that drum majors, and I didn’t know this, keep the time and tempo of the band through their conducting. If the drum majors don’t work together, they sound like crap - or, as one character says, like a symphony warming up before a performance begins.

Fortunately for Virginia and the band, the new band director, Mr. Rush, intervenes, and lays down the law. They will work together or they’ll both lose their positions. And further, Mr. Rush has ideas about how they can work their differences to the band’s advantage in competition, beginning with a new, feminine drum major costume for Virginia, and a ballroom dance-style dip for both of them to begin their performance.

The challenge of working together forces Drew and Virginia to become friends, despite or perhaps because of the enormous attraction between both of them, and while there are complications - Drew has an evil girlfriend, and Virginia doesn’t feel sure enough of herself to make any move on Drew - the story gets it’s drama from so many clever, interesting characters and plot points that serve to set this book apart. From the guy who’s harbored a crush on Virginia since forever, to her African-American best friend and beauty queen who cannot wait to leave small town Alabama behind her, to her parents and their secret that Virginia’s keeping from everyone, there’s plenty of drama to keep the book moving.

One of Echol’s gifts in this novel is keeping the story very contemporary without making it seem like she’s name-dropping. Like the writers of a really good teen television drama, she’s able to portray a high school teenager’s thoughts (the book is told from Virginia’s perspective in first person) without sounding like she’s trying too hard. Authenticity of tone and setting come easily to this author.

The two best points of this book for me are Virginia herself, and her friendship with Drew. While it might be difficult for me, a 31-year-old schlubby lady living in Jersey to relate to a teenage beauty queen and drum major in rural Alabama, it is not hard for me to relate to someone feeling like they have been dropped into a situation that seems like too much, too fast, and too emotionally difficult. It’s a mark of brilliance on Echols’ part that the character who doesn’t fit in is a beauty queen who quits the pageant circuit to join the band. One doesn’t think beauty pageant contestants suffer often from feelings of awkwardness, low self-confidence, or alienation.

The other delicious part of this book is the dramatic sexual tension between Drew and Virginia. Forced to work together and talk to each other on long-ass bus rides all over the state, they form a friendship of sorts, and become each other’s confidantes, revealing the truth behind their public images. Virginia shares with Drew the secret she’s been hiding from everyone, and Drew tells Mr. Rush and Virginia why he’s gone from being a laid-back relaxed high schooler to a stressed-out responsibility-driven drum major obsessed about being perfect and getting the highest possible score on his SATs.

The one problem I had with the story was that the HEA didn’t seem 100% guaranteed, because one question -the financial security of Drew’s future - is left unanswered. There’s a throwaway comment by the band director that seems to indicate that everything will be fine, but I wasn’t sure at all by the end, and I wanted a complete happy ending for these awesome characters, because I was rooting for them the entire time.

I have a serious weakness for YA romances, from the 1-800-WhereRU stories to vintage SVH, and this one is a definite keeper. A full band salute to Jennifer Echols from this very giddy Smart Bitch.