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

Lilith Saintcrow recently wrote a truly fascinating piece about the politics of appropriation and transformation in romance novels. She argues that elements in romance novels that initially read as being misogynistic may actually provide the means and framework for women to explore that which oppresses us the most. It’s good stuff, and you should read the whole thing.

Me, I think the idea has merit. I admit that as time goes by, I’m more and more ambivalent about the extent of the subversiveness and feminism demonstrated by romance novels as a genre, though individual novels can certainly be magnificently, delightfully empowering and subversive (most of Jennifer Crusie’s books, for example). Celebrating the more misogynistic cultural elements in female-centered fiction--especially fiction dealing with romantic love--may perhaps be a necessary first step towards discarding old, oppressive standards and fashioning a healthier space for female discourse.

When it comes to this sort of question, I like to examine the role sex plays in romances, because romance novels have such a complicated, ambivalent relationship with sex and sexual pleasure. On one hand, we have most romance novels portraying women enjoying sexual pleasure, and not being punished or killed for it. Given the rather grim fates met by most of the sexually active female protagonists in the Western canon, this is certainly progress of sorts. But the thing is, sexually active women are still punished, and punished severely, in Romancelandia. Think about the legions of villainous fiancées and mistresses that populate romance novels; odds are high that these women are sexually voracious or promiscuous, which is usually meant to contrast with the heroine’s dewy-eyed innocence. In the vast majority of romance novels in the past, the heroine is allowed to feel pleasure with the hero, and only the hero. It’s only very recently that we’ve started encountering heroines who’ve had pleasurable experiences with former lovers, or whose virginity wasn’t kept intact despite all odds and common sense.

The treatment of the hero within the sexual framework is somewhat interesting. He’s allowed quite a bit more sexual latitude than the heroine (he’s rarely expected to be a virgin, and he’s allowed to acknowledge that sex in and of itself feels good without all the woo-woo froofy folderol) but another convention that’s kept to quite strictly in Romancelandia is the hero’s absolute fidelity--one bordering on monomania--to the heroine once he meets her. In books past, this led to Inexplicable Dick Death on the part of the hero once he met our (usually virginal) heroine, an ailment that can only be cured by the heroine’s Magic Hoo Hoo. He Who Used to Fuck Twenty Cyprians in a Single Bound is suddenly struck impotent; only one woman can slake his desires. This realization usually makes the hero mad as hell and twice as scared; the resentment generated by the heroine’s irresistible charms would usually provide pages upon pages of conflict in older romance novels, and it gave the hero excuse to torment the heroine emotionally and sexually for his own emotional and sexual frustration. In the end, though, he’s usually tamed. If he’s not completely apologetic, he’s usually reformed and transformed by the power of the heroine’s Magic Hoo Hoo.

But I’m not entirely satisfied by this solution to the prickly problem of misogyny in romance. I think part of it’s my belief that if this were the case, we’d see romance novels pushing harder at the patriarchal structures that inform and shape them--more novels being in the vanguard, as it were, instead of being largely a reflection of current standards. I wish there were a serious way to collect a representative sample and study how much of the genre presents an uncritical acceptance and refashioning of old or current standards, and how much of it is truly pushing at boundaries, even in subtle, indirect ways. But really, such a study would be about impossible to conduct because if nothing else, we run into the problem of author intent vs. reader interpretation. When I read a romance in which the heroine is deprived of agency, either by accident (amnesia plotlines are great for this sort of thing) or by an especially overbearing hero, I find it difficult to believe that these books are somehow progressive or subversive, even in the ways Lilith describes.

Perhaps mores in romances evolve in a system resembling punctuated equilibrium: the books continue in a certain mode for a long time, and then some pioneer comes along and blows some doors wide open. “Hey, look, it’s OK to explicitly describe sex between the hero and heroine” eventually leads to “Look, the widow doesn’t need to be a virgin, and she doesn’t need to have hated her husband,” which in turn can eventually transform into “Hey guys, check this out: the hero’s not the only one allowed to have hot sex without love; the heroine can do it too, and it can be hot, and it doesn’t mean that she’s Teh Ebil.”

And I don’t even have time to go into the changing standards of careers for heroines and job competence right now. I think Lilith’s thoughts can be an interesting analytical lens for the ambivalence and mixed messages in Romancelandia regarding women who work and the genre’s obsession with the leisure class. Perhaps a musing for another day....

Our faithful readers forward on the most interesting bits of news to us regularly, which is awesome, but thanks to being out of town for the last couple of weeks, I’m way, way behind on my e-mail. And as I was going through my inbox this morning, I noticed that we had a huge collection of interesting links. Instead of inundating you with 6 or 7 little posts today, I thought I’d be all efficient and shit and plop everything into one post. Messy, but fun! Not unlike sex in a bathtub full of jello!

Item the First: Jane of Dear Author and Lilith Saintcrow both pointed out to me that Smart Bitches is listed as an option in the new Romantic Times BOOKReview survey.

No, seriously. For realz. Checkit:

How tickled pink are we? Well, shit, just look at the color scheme, and imagine a shade pinker than that.

Item the Second: Another survey, this one with a more academic bent! Bitchery regular Bronwyn is (among other things) conducting a survey of the on-line romance community as part of her doctoral dissertation at the University of New England. This is the first academic study I’ve encountered that’s a fairly large-scale, organized attempt to study the on-line romance community, and the results should be interesting. Check out more details about the study here: “Online communities of romance readers and writers and their perspectives on the genre”. You can also take the survey.

Item the Third: Many of our readers forwarded on the link to the Fabiofone.

One word: Aieeeee.

Item the Fourth: In keeping with our recent discussion about scrotums, it seems that people are getting bent out of shape by the use of another blunt but scientifically correct term. In short, some Seattle-ites are getting their panties in a wad over a pet store called ”High-Maintenance Bitch.” Hahahaha. Hat-tip to Bev for forwarding this item to us.

Item the Fifth: Reader Hillary sent us a link in which some dude person paints insects in the place of heroes on romance novel covers. Fashunating--though I can’t help but feel that a horse’s ass might be a more appropriate substitute for most novels.

Item the Sixth: Malle Vallik alerted us to the fact that there’s a blog dedicated to Harlequin Presents and all its delicious cheesiness. Feel like discussing your love of the sheikh romance, or what being a “mistress” actually means in the Presents universe? Head over to I (Heart) Presents.

In keeping with this hodge-podge, consider the comments to this an open thread. What’s on your mind? What’s on your lap? Have a meme you want to respond to, but don’t have your own webspace to post it on? Full of interesting links saved up that you want to share with us? GO FOR IT.

So we Bitches have tallied the votes for the Very Verbal Vaggy contest, and the winner is...none other than MaryJanice motherfucking Davidson’s entry, i.e., entry number 1! Your vulva is victorious, your vagina indeed valorous, your hoo-ha the most hilarious yet heroic. Let your labia’s laments be lauded throughout the land!

All righty, then. Awful alliteration aside: cuntastic congratulations, MaryJanice. Your verbose vagina pulled ahead (ha, now THAT’s an interesting mental picture) of the others by a slim but decided margin. Expect a $25 gift certificate to Babeland in the next couple of days.

To all our other contestants: Thanks for entering. And withdrawing slightly. And entering again. And withdrawing again. And many thanks to all of you who voted.

I’ve reviewed gay romance twice, and we certainly have snarked our share of gay romance covers, but it has been brought to my attention that we have not asked the Bitchery for Lesbian Romance Recommendations.

So - what lesbian romances burn your carpet?

Personally, I’m embarrassed to say I haven’t read any. It’s not a deliberate slight; I just haven’t come across any romances wherein the protagonists were women. Back when I was a member of BooksFree, I had Pembroke Park on my request list for ages, but it never became available in the year-plus time I was a member. I was bummed when I finally discontinued service that I’d never borrowed that particular book.

Online, I’ve seen a few recommendations, including books by Sarah Waters, but I have seen more discussion about romance readers enjoying gay romance than I have about lesbian romance.

So, I have to ask the Bitchery for a Good Shit vs. Shit to Avoid List: Lesbian romance recommendations? Historical? Contemporary? What’s on your keeper pile from the Sapphic protagonist set?

Amy E. recently reminded me that I hadn’t posted the Personal Ad Contest yet. So here it comes! The usual rules apply: Title of book + author’s name + heroine’s name = PURE AWESOMENESS IN PIXEL FORMAT JUST FOR YOU, a.k.a. a Smart Bitch title. And you know it’s gotta be good, because look, I abused my capslock key!

(If I abuse it too often, does that mean I’ll get hairy palms?)

---

Impecunious SWF with impeccable bloodlines seeks man with fortune and title, but will marry a rich upstart if I have to--like, say, a wealthy textile merchant. Just don’t expect me to fall in love with you, no matter how good-natured or optimistic you are. No, your gentle good humor and endless patience with my snippiness aren’t working. I refuse to love you. I’m the daughter of a duke. I…

Oh, crap, fine, I love you.

Via La Peril: Penguin publishes books with blank covers so you can create your own masterpieces. Check out the PenguinBlog’s Flickr photostream for many, many interesting covers.

I was thinking about how this would translate to romance novels and the sorts of covers we could come up with for our favorites. Some are easy enough. My cover for Laura Kinsale’s Midsummer Moon, for example, would feature a hedgehog peeking out from under a sheet of paper, paws ink-stained. For My Lady’s Heart would be a battered suit of green armor laying on the ground with a falcon perched on it.

But others are a lot more difficult. To Love and to Cherish, for example, would be well-nigh impossible. There’s no visual hook; it’s about two people becoming best friends and lovers under very difficult circumstances. Maybe a close-up of a sheet of paper with Christy’s appalling poetry tucked into the trunk of a tree?

And then, of course, there are covers I could slap on the books I didn’t like--but then, most of the existing covers do a more than adequate job of conveying the awfulness of the contents.

Thinking about the covers I’d come up with for some of the sketchier paranormal romances makes me chuckle, too--but a lot of it would resemble bad furry fanart, which really is no laughing matter.

What are some of the covers you’d come up with for your favorite and not-so-favorite romance novels?

Rbelle strikes again, forwarding me a link to either a man who is either a wee bit unhinged, or who has the makings of a modern day romance hero, albeit one who lives with his mother, has no phone, but does have a nice heirloom sword.

I keep rereading this article, imagining all the variations that could be spun out from this story. It could be a bizarre fantasy erotica plot, or a rather tame-by-comparison Blaze, or maybe even an historical, though how to substitute the porn video in an historically-appropriate context might be a stumper. Man definitely needs a kilt, though. To go with the sword.

Either way, it’s the stuff absurd romance could be made of.

Via Pharyngula: How many condoms can one (un)reasonably fit onto a cock? The answer: well over 600. Take that, Marc Chastain.

Link is Not Work Safe, by the way.

Behold, the Smart Bitch HooHah Monologues, proving that you should fear many things with deeper anxiety than seeing the word “vagina” on a marquee, such as Smart Bitch writers revealing the soliloquies of their downtheres.

Voting is open until Thursday, February 22, midnight PST. Please email your votes to Candy AND Sarah. Winners announced Friday, February 23.

And now: on with the holes:

Bitchery Reader Rbelle sent me the following link: seems the presence of the word “scrotum” in this year’s Newberry winner, The Higher Power of Lucky, has caused librarians to reach for the hartshorn and ban the book from their libraries.

Yes. Scrotum. We’re only a few days past slamming our heads on the desks over “The Hoohah Monologues,” and now word comes that once again we must connect our craniums to the desk surface with considerable force. “Scrotum” is cause for book banning.

Seems the main character overhears the word through a hole in the fence when another character details where a rattlesnake bit his dog.

This is my particular favorite quote, and by “favorite” I mean it makes me want to explode with rage in every possible direction:

Dana Nilsson, a teacher and librarian in Durango Colorado, had this to say about The Higher Power of Lucky”: “This book included what I call a Howard Stern-type shock treatment just to see how far they could push the envelope, but they didn’t have the children in mind.”

Yes. Howard Stern frequently would make use of the word “scrotum.” The hell he would. He, Opie, Anthony, or any other shock jock would use “balls,” “junk,” or “nutsack,” but “scrotum?”

I hate to break it to Ms. Nilsson, but that’s the anatomically correct word to describe that part of the human anatomy. It’s not like the book contains the words “spunk factory” or “bag of fuck pucks.”

I have to put my head between my knees now, lest I pass out from hyperventilating rage at the yet-again-so-dismaying fear we have of anything remotely sexual. We can’t even use the proper words for reproductive organs. Perhaps I can’t even say “head” and “knees.” I have to put my desk-slamming-tension-relieving-rotund-appendage betwixt my flexible joints which enable me to walk.

Here at the Bitchery, we have many an academic hanging out in our discussions, wishing that the Ivory Tower would establish more of an interest in romance fiction, beyond the occasional pop cult conference or Bowling Green-sponsored library.

Bitchery reader Sarah S. G. Frantz, Assistant Professor of Literature at Fayetteville State, has sent me a brand new CFP that she and Professor Eric Selinger of DePaul have issued for a book of academic criticism devoted to the genre we know and love. Proposals are due to Drs. Frantz and Selinger by June 1 - and holy flapjack there’s a lot of focus on which to focus. 

All the talk about the NASCARomance sanitizing the sport with a “no crashes, no alcohol/drugs, no sex” rule has got me thinking. All things NASCAR aside, I have to be honest, here: I like romances wherein there is a sex scene. I’m not reading the book FOR the sex scene, but it’s rare that I will enjoy a fade-to-black oblique reference to the hummuna-hummuna. Not only do I enjoy a good scene that moves the relationship forward (and back and forward and back) but a well-written sexual scene in the hands of a skilled romance author can be absolutely delightful. Back in the day, I used to steer clear of the AAR reviews that listed ‘Kisses’ as the heat level, and knowing that sexual explication is a preference of mine does make me want to steer clear of the NASCARomance line (although I might have to sample one for review, because, hey, why not?)

Preference aside, I have read a few very satisfying romances that didn’t progress past a hot make-out. In a YA novel like, for example, Major Crush, if the two lead characters had hopped off the tractor and into the hayloft, I’d have been a little skeeved, because the novel’s tone had a happy innocence that could have been lost with a big humpty-humpty scene. But that’s not to say that I have blanket expectations of YA or romance in general that there MUST or MUST NOT be sex, OMG, the children, think of the children.

What romances do you enjoy rereading that don’tfeature sexual scenes? Do you prefer just kissing or the whole megillah? A fade to black or an illumination to the part where they both pass out, “spent from passion?”

Only a few more hours to let your va-jay-jay have her say in the Very Verbal Vaggy contest. Email and your entry by midnight PDT. Our collection of Hoohah monologues will be posted tomorrow for judging and general hilarity. 

Bitchery reader Winterlyre sent me a link to this Times article that explores the extended partnership between Harlequin and NASCAR.

You know, honestly, I don’t get HQ. On one hand, they’re bloody everywhere. On the other hand, as Jayne so marvelously put it, they manage to embarrass even the most devoted fans of romance with their myopic vision of what romance readers want. On the third hand, there’s the success and omnipresence of NASCAR. On the fourth hand, how far will fans of romance or racing go - will they buy every new release or will it be a novelty that wears off?

Perhaps instead of unlikely fanfic couples, we need unlikely romance hybrids. Candy is desperate for Atheist Romance (her yen for it makes me crack up every time she emails me about it). Kate Duffy mentions American Idol as a pop culture phenomenon - do we need the Paula/contestant or Simon/backstage beefy stagehand romance?

And, really, as always, I have to wonder if HQ knows what it’s doing. Their report on romance readers seemed to demonstrate that they are desperately out of touch - and my initial reaction to NASCARomance was definitely accompanied by a cocked eyebrow. But perhaps I’m wrong, and they do have their finger on the pulse - of a romance fan completely different from me.

Kiku mentioned the in the comments to the ”Love in All Genres” entry that Seventh Sanctum had made a brain-hurting fanfic pair generator.

Boy howdy, have they. With one click of a button, generate a fanfic pair sure to make you cry--either with laughter, or sweet, sweet trauma.

So far, the ones I’ve generated that have made me laugh hardest are:

Lili von Shtupp (Blazing Saddles)/Morpheus (Sandman)
Papa Smurf/Hagbard Celine (Illuminatus Trillogy)
Flash (Justice League)/Dee-ari (The Dark Crystal)
Mr. Wickham (Pride and Prejudice)/General Woundwart (Watership Down)
Cookie Monster/Walter C. Ddollneaz (Hellsing)
Frosty the Snowman/Queen Christine of Sweden

Ones that would ALMOST work: Sue Storm (Fantastic Four)/Westley (The Princess Bride) and Edmond Dantes (The Count of Monte Cristo)/Lee “Apollo” Adama (Battlestar Galactica 2005).

That last one HAS to have been written already. HAS to be.

My friend Katie of Nebula Haiku fame, however, generated possibly the most terrifying pairing of ALL TIME: Mr. Bean/Aramis (The Three Musketeers).

And also, the awesomest: Cthulhu/Jesus.

Have fun with the new toy.