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

I wrote this short ‘splosion-on-a-page about the appeal of polyamorous romances and group sex for Romancing the Blog a while back, and I find it immensely flattering that they will occasionally re-post it as part of their “Best Of” series. The responses to this article seem to fall into one of several different categories:

1. OMG YES WOO DAMN HOT

2. It all depends on the author.

3. Not for me, but vive la difference!

4. Cheating is not romantic, and I don’t want to read about infidelity in my romances.

5. It’s neither romantic nor sexy because it’s immoral/pornographic.

6. It’s neither romantic nor sexy because it’s too unrealistic/the dynamics make my head hurt.

Bitchery Reader Shaina asks, “Is there a difference between man-titty and man-boobs?”

Why, yes, of course!

Let me first state for the record for any males reading: women, as least as far as the women I know, do not care much about your hairline. We aren’t big fans of combovers and I personally think the time and trouble spent lassoing a toupee could be better spent elsewhere, but by and large? Hair? Not such a big deal. Bald can be - and often is - very very sexy. Especially when one goes bald with an attitude of “I don’t really give a shit, because my manful manliness is inside this head, and also inside another head, which has always been bald.”

Or perhaps the attitude would be less verbose, along the lines of “I’m the man. Bald or not.” Either way, fine and sexy.

But the manly manbreast? The manboob? The mantit? Not so manly. And indeed, there is a difference.

The mantitty is most often pictured on the cover of a romance novel or in a beefcake calendar of your local fire department’s bronzed and buffed babes. The mantitty is firm, round, and casts a rather odd shadow, almost a crescent, on the chest beneath. This is because the mantitty has the ability to hold itself aloft without the aid of strings, toupee glue, or hydraulics. It is its own firm universe, casting a shadow of manliness on the ripply abdomen beneath, and some, thought not all, women find it quite attractive. It speaks of great attention to one’s self, particularly in gym time and perhaps even waxing or shaving and application of aftershave balm to keep that mantitty smooth and supple.

A manboob, on the other hand, does not cast a shadow. It hangs, slovenly and deflated, against the chest of the male who bears it, almost like the breast of a woman who has nursed eighteen children for two years each. But while the female can wear her soft breasts as badges of honor that she has run the gauntlet of motherhood, the bearer of the manboob, he has no medals of achievement.

The manboob, it is not firm, and it does not stand of its own volition, unless one is picking it up by the nipple and giving it a little shimmy to watch the ripples within undulate with glee. A saggy manboob makes one think of a manbra, and that is an image that no one wants.

A manboob is the product not of attention, but of neglect. Too much sitting, not enough situps, I am sad to say. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I will state that my room to talk in that department is also nowhere to be found.

The manboob, it will not appear in the calendar or the cover of a romance novel, and pictures of it will likely cause the Manolo to shriek with fear and horror.

But a fine mantitty, though large and somewhat alarming on its own, does offer many benefits: photogenic, sometimes attractive, and always good to hide under during a downpour.

Does that clear the issue? One hopes so. If there are any other questions, please, feel free to pass them our way!

Sarah: Y’all. Y’ALL. Now we know what happened to Ian Ziering from 90210. But where’s the cover with Dylan and Brandon? Mrowr!

Candy: It’s a miracle more of these cover models don’t come down with some sort of catarrh from standing around with their shirts unbuttoned in the cold, damp air.

I also wonder: Do these guys use aftershave on their chests, and is that why their shirts are unbuttoned? To allow the aftershave to evaporate freely?

Sarah: Oh, the heartbreak of finding your dream man, replete with breathtaking mantitty, only to find he has a monster case of jaundice. And turning yellow does not a good indicator of health make. Wonder what else might be turning yellow, hmm? Run, dearie, RUN!

Candy: Jebus, can two people look any more gross? There’s just this sheen of, I don’t know, grease and, yes, jaundice about them. I can just about picture the stink-lines emanating from these two clowns. Maybe that’s why their mouths are slightly agape--they’re breathing through their mouths.

Sarah:
Hero: Dude. Where’s my shirt?
Heroine: I care not, milord! I must reform you! Apparently you are a rake!
Hero: I’m a what?
Heroine: A rake! Or, that’s what you used to comb that hair, anyway.
Hero: Huh?
Heroine: And while we’re talking reform, high-waisted pants are not a good look for you. Who is your tailor? And your barber?
Hero: Oh, boy.

Candy: Another grubby-looking guy. I think the cover artists were trying to go for “manfully dishevelled” but managed to hit “meth bender in the middle of a windstorm” instead. And why is she staring at his collarbone with that intent almost-sneer on her face? It’s almost like he has some schmutz in the shape of the Holy Mary on his clavicle and she’s debating whether to wipe it off or not.

One year ago today, Sarah and I posted our first official Smart Bitch entries, to wit: A review of The Unsung Hero by Suzanne Brockmann and a review of Angel-Seeker by Sharon Shinn.

Here are some statistics for our site at the time of writing, pulled off the little Statistics sidebar provided by ExpressionEngine:

• Number of page views for the front page: 778,474 (according to my calculator, that’s an average of just under 2133 page views a day)
• Total combined hits for all pages: 1,781,187 (average of just under 4880 hits a day)
• Total number of comments: 10,757
• Total Smart Bitchery Members: 245
• Most visitors ever: 163 on 11/23/2005 at 11:40 a.m.

HOLY SHIT.

If you’d told Sarah and me that a year from now we’d be looking at statistics like those, we would’ve laughed. HARD. Especially in those early days, when all our referrers were basically porn spambots, when the “most visitors ever” counter showed something like 5 people, and the only regular readers were probably Sarah’s sister and my best friend from Malaysia, Sooks.

So, Happy Birthday to this site. This first year has been a motherfuckin’ blast, and thanks to all of you who drop by, post comments, send Sarah and I hideous covers to make fun of, nudge our way towards interesting stories and developments, and give us love and snark in equal measure. You’re the wind beneath our wings. *happy tear*

Sarah Adds:

Thank you also to everyone who has sent us recommendations of books to read, and actual books to read, from backlist editions to ARCs - we read the past and future of romance? Boo yah!

This site came about because we had an entirely tangential conversation about our love of romance novels, and how hard it is to find people who like to talk about romance as if it were a genre worthy of critical examination and review, just the same as any genre. So I want to thank you, our Bitchery readership, for affirming my faith that there are people out there who are snarky and smart, intelligent and witty, AND who like romance novels. It’s a pleasure to read your comments and interact with all of you! 

In order to prevent any attempts to maim yourself, you should read this book equipped with a phrase rotation of the following:

Are you shitting me?
Come on, now.
Who are you kidding?
Do you think I’m that stupid?
and
BWAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA

You must also suspend reality enough to just go for a ride on the Harlequin “Yes, someone there thinks the readership is as dumb as a small box of poop” Publishing Express directly to Campy Romance Land. This is, without a doubt, the kind of book that gives romance readers the reputation that we are dumb sheep who will read anything handed to us. The only thing that stopped this book from being an outright F is that it was kind of fun to be horrified by this train wreck of a novel after awhile, once I got over the initial feeling of insult that someone in the publishing department must think I am stupid. And I’m not saying that I’m not. I mean, I PAID for this copy. Used, yes, but still, money did change hands.

Whoa damn, I was a total space cadet last night and forgot to present the prize to P.Devi for correctly guessing the answer to this week’s personal ad challenge! Apologies--I blame the cold and the ‘Tussin (the ‘Tussin, Ro-bi-tussin!) for making my shit memory even shittier than normal.

Anyway, kneel, P.Devi, and receive your title:

Go forth and sport your new title with pride!

Personal ad time, kidlets! You know the score: Give us the correct title, author and heroine’s name (YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS IF YOU FORGET THE HEROINE’S NAME) and find yourself inducted into royalty. Smart Bitch royalty. ‘Cause we cool like dat.

---

SWF, brilliant botanist, looking for admission into prestigious university, NOT an arranged marriage to a hot aristocrat just back from fighting Bonaparte. OK, maybe if the sex is hot.

First one to correctly identify the book will get a Smart Bitch Title - and no, this isn’t our Lonely Heart contest for the day. I’m just trying to provide some motivation by Greed & Bribery!

Teresa Wilde writes:

Dearest Bitches:

My romance writing group got a cry for help recently, as follows:

“Hi, I have an extremely difficult question for you. I have been looking for a book that has been written by a Canadian author written about a widow who have been left a series of letters written by her late husband designed to help her face the future and carry on with her life.

I know it’s a difficult task as I do not have the name of the author or the title, but it is for my 84-year-old mother, who loved the book when she read it a number of years ago, and would love to read it again.  If you could help me I would be eternally grateful.
Sincerely
Norah”

I wonder if you could help by posting this so your gentle readers could chime in? I’ll monitor the comments to see if one of your fellow bitches has the answers.

Someone suggested that, since Norah is from England, the book might be a Harlequin Presents.

So - if you know that book, leave a comment or email me at the SBTB address! Thanks! 

While Freebird was trying out his daycare today, I went over the local library, got myself a library card, and ended up bringing home three books - two to borrow, one to own. Book sale?! WOO HOO! Freebird is also the proud owner of two new books, though I won’t review them here - not sure that the SBTB community is sweating over the relative quality of Let my Babies Go! A Rugrats Passover Story and Snuggle Piggy and the Magic Blanket. There is a joke in there about other meanings of Snuggle Piggy but since I’m talking about children’s books, I’ll leave that one alone.

But me? I got books! I now own a double release of RWA Prez and all around fabulous lady Gayle Wilson’s The Heart’s Desire and Heather Graham’s Lonesome Rider (I wonder if the Lonesome Rider has a Snuggle Piggy? *smacks self - OW*).  And I borrowed MaryJanice Davidson’s Derik’s Bane and Jennifer Crusie’s Getting Rid of Bradley, which sounds great but features this cartoon woman on the cover who kinda looks like a man in drag. Big chin, big Adam’s apple, and big nose.

See what I mean?

But then, I arrived home, before I could start any of the three books in the car. And there, on the porch, waiting for me, was a media mail package from Texas. I didn’t think it would arrive that quickly, as media mail usually takes about a year and a half to send from Texas to Jersey, but no, quick as a wink, there it was:

So - which one do I read first? Leave your vote in the comments!

So, who has seen Brokeback Mountain? I confess to being one of those many who say, “Oh, I want to see that!” but hasn’t yet been to the theatre. But it’s not the homosexuality that keeps me away. It’s my 2.5 month old son. It’s hard to see a movie - I don’t have two hours to do any one task right now!

But of course you want that which you cannot have, and while I’ve never had much of a bladder to make it through a movie in one sitting, now that I can’t really get to a movie, I find that’s all I look at: movie listings. I’m so perverse. And I keep looking for movies that would blend my requirements - romance, happy ending - with Hubby’s requirements - must be good.

So yes, Brokeback Mountain is on my “I would see” list, mostly because of the forbidden romance, and there’s nothing that catches my attention like hidden, clandestine hotness between two characters.

Then, there’s Underworld: Revolution which I would not touch even if you paid me. I dragged Hubby to see the first installment, Underworld, and we renamed it ‘Underwear” because it was so almighty bad. Great special effects, but monstrously (har) lousy story. And, worst of all, there could have been a GREAT romance in there - vampire and werewolf? Hoo damn! But no, the two leads had as much chemistry as the wet sponges in my sink. There was one moment where it was Time for Them to Kiss and the whole theatre GROANED out loud at how forced and contrived it was.

I turned to Hubby and apologized in a normal voice, not even bothering to whisper, “I am SO SORRY I made you see this.” And this dude behind us nudged his wife and said, “See?!”

So yeah, the Revolution of Underwear is not on my radar.

Now, we do have digital cable and OnDemand, and there’s a movie in the listings that I am most curious about: anyone seen Playing By Heart? It’s from 1998 but it’s listed as a “recommendation” in our OnDemand menu. And hey - OnDemand means I can pause to go pee, change diapers, resettle the baby into sleep, or restart it when I fall asleep in the middle! 

A writing duo working under the name YourNovel.com will customize a pre-written romance novel with your name, your spouse’s name, and add 26 different identifying characteristics from physical descriptions to best friend’s names. Your name will appear on every page,

So you can star in your own romance novel, with prices ranging from $50 to $120.

I’m not sure what I think about that. But there are excerpts to entertain me while I ponder if this adds fuel to the already-old allegation that romances are paint-by-numbers publications with no originality to them.

More secret baby/baby-daddy books from our fabulous readers, and more horrified responses from Sarah & Candy. What a lovely way to start the week!

Sarah: Forgive me, but your daddy the Duke might want to (a) consider another source other than Burger King for his crowns, and (b) start looking into charm school, because you, little girl, look like you have some serious attitude problems.

Candy: I initially mis-read the title as My Daddy the Puke. Tee hee!

Speaking of puke: this cover has just caused my admittedly low gag threshold to redline. Come to think of it: Many romance novel covers should come with built-in barfbags. Holy shit, I’m a GENIUS.

Sarah: TRIPLET secret babies? What in the name of all that is good and noble in the world, is THAT about? I’m guessing it’s a hard secret to keep, considering that most triplet deliveries involve a few months of bed rest to allow for as long a gestation as possible. How do you explain that one? “Well, darling, I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls for four months, I was kidnapped by aliens! And excuse that giant stretch mark. It’s nothing. Just, um, slipped while I was writing with a Sharpie!”

Candy: Wow. Just...wow. I mean, Jesus fuck, the secret baby fetish is pretty retarded to begin with. To multiply this by a factor of three boggles the mind. Frankly, it sounds like kind of a freak show. Next up: “Secret Astonishingly Hirsute Conjoined Twin Babies!”

Sarah: Ok, is it me or do the three dudes look a little like the men from Full House?

And how is that romantic, not knowing who the baby daddy is, and then standing around in your nightgown with all three of them? Yeesh.

Candy: The implication seems to be that this woman had frenzied group sex with these three men without the benefit of STD or birth control. HOT! I didn’t know Harlequin published love stories about crazy swingers. Bonus points if the events leading to the pregnancy involved snorting cocaine off her breasts.

Sarah: It’s not so much the doctor’s dilemma as the mother’s - how the hell did she pick a zombie ob/gyn who DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO HOLD NEWBORNS? And on top of that, the artist seems to have Photoshopped the same face on each baby? Yeesh. That’s just freaking creepy right there. I’m going to stop looking at it now - I’ve got the jibblies.

Candy: Michael Jackson must be getting desperate--here, he seems to be kidnapping not one, but TWO babies who wouldn’t have looked too out of place in Eraserhead.

Oh, the nasturtium-scented simians, they dance with Harriet Klausner in patterned steps of joy, for EvilAuntiePeril hath won a Smart Bitche Title™.

Kneel, EAP, and arise a member of the SB Peerage:

Remember these? Give me the author, title, and heroine’s name, and I’ll give you a Smart Bitch Title!

My Sheets Hang in the Balance

Smart numbers chick seeks hot dudes for ongoing flirtation and simultaneous possible relationships. Must be accountable and always there when I need you, plus hot. Hot is always good. In addition, must help me out of multiple crazy situations while maintaining mystery as to which side you are on - both of you. Not that the confusion erases the attraction. In the end, I’ll blow the whistle - but just whose whistle will be blown is yet to be determined.

The whole AngusTroll (and that second part appears to be the operative description of said individual) discussion has got me thinking: it must be a challenging decision whether to publish under your own name. Not only do you have to consider the “sale-ability” of your name, but you also have to weigh other factors, like whether there’s a lot of company in your letter of the alphabet on the shelves at Barnes & Noble. I think I read somewhere that Julia Quinn chose her pen name for that reason - not too much traffic in the “Q” section.

But then, you also have to think about your own potential fame: if your book is kick ass (and if you write, and you read this site, then I bet your book is indeed kickass) and it sells well, do you want the fame attached to your real name, and possibly end up with middle school ex-boyfriends contacting you via your author page? Or perhaps have people misrepresenting themselves as you, based on the availability of information available online that is connected to, again, your real name?

So how do you decide to pick a pen name? Why do you pick one? And what name to choose? On top of naming your characters, titling your manuscript and WRITING the damn thing, is this one more worry that seems goofy to be concerned about in the beginning? Or do you have to sit down and seriously consider your author’s identity as well?