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

Coffee Room, Black Dagger Brotherhood soundstage, 4:00 pm.
15 minute break per union regulations.

Marissa: Man, I am beat.

Butch: Me, too. This “your angst, my angst” thing is way tiring, you feel me?

Marissa: Frankly, I’m a little tired of feeling you. You’re all up my skirt with lust ahoy and then in the next chapter, if it’s not about some blonde baby powder monster man, you’re freaking out about your own worth or some shit, so you get drunk and you blow me off.

Butch: Hey, that’s how it’s written.

Marissa: I’m just saying, if I were an actual woman, I’d have kicked your ass to the curb by now with this, “I want you so much my balls are on fire but I’m not worthy of you” routine. You go get drunk off your ass and whine for awhile while I consider my perfect yet lonely life? Boring.

Butch: What can I say? I’m a sensitive man beneath a crusty exterior, both of which are intimidated by your beauty and perfection.

Marissa: Perfection? Please! I’ve never had an orgasm and don’t know what my vagina is for.

Butch: Like I said, that’s how it’s written.

I’m personally thankful for a lot of things, from obvious items like the health and happiness of my family, to items like the freedom to write on this website and the amazing people who come and educate my Bitchy ass on a daily basis. I’m definitely thankful for the romance genre itself because of the hours of relaxation and happiness I’ve received from reading all those clinch-covered novels over the years.

But in my inbox I received a letter from a Bitchery Reader who wishes to remain anonymous. Anonymous is thankful for one particular author whose works have helped her heal from a horrific childhood trauma that continues to haunt her. If the character in this author’s books can heal from a similar experience, then so can Anonymous. Anonymous asked me to share the following letter with y’all. Please note, some of it is graphic so the more difficult parts are below the fold.

At Thanksgiving time, everyone usually takes a moment or two to think what they need to be grateful for – in my case it’s that God created Nora Roberts who was able to help save my life through the power of her words.

Nora Roberts may be a great author to her millions of readers, but to me she is a hero/savior for the lifeline that she created for me in the character of Eve Dallas.

Teddy Pig and Spider suggested we give a prize to those who can Help a Bitch Out in one guess and nail the correct book for the person seeking their lost reading material. We agree. While Spider suggested something “in waiting,” we figure, naaaah. Bitches who Help Other Bitches that fast get full fledged peerages.

So!

To BlackVal, whose email address proclaims her Black Val the Pirate, who identified Flight from the Eagle by Dinah Dean, we dub thee:

And, to JMC, who identified Lois McMaster Bujold’s The Curse of the Chalion in one guess, we dub thee:

Kate Rothwell forwarded me a link to a very thought-provoking article in the Washington Post, and I’ll beg the pardon of our international readers because it is all about the word “bitch” as pertains to American politics. Look, folks, I know that there are other countries outside the borders of the USA - no, really, I do - but it’s election time around here, and American media is even more in the ignore-the-rest-of-the-world mode than usual. It’s like self-important navel gazing at its finest.

I personally vote, early and often, but I have sworn not to pay attention to any presidential candidate until 2008, which is the actual election year. Some of the current candidate bozos jumped into the race in 2006 and early 2007, and that’s just preposterous. So I refused to pay attention to any of them until the actual election year - and I have a month and a bit more to go of my self-imposed electoral peacetime. But for the Bitchery, I will break my vow, and look in on election doings.

Seems there’s a YouTube video of a John McCain campaign meeting wherein some anonymous woman asks him, “How do we beat the bitch?”

(That would be Sen. Hillary Clinton the woman is referring to.)

The room explodes into manful chortles, and McCain looks both amused and somewhat uncomfortable (though, I will say, that’s his standard look at any moment, probably because he is uncomfortable) and answers the question.

And yet again, the word “bitch” makes some headlines. Which is why Andi Zeisler of Bitch Magazine penned an article about the word “bitch” itself for the Post, because any time the word pops up in the news, people call her.

Bitch is a word we use culturally to describe any woman who is strong, angry, uncompromising and, often, uninterested in pleasing men. We use the term for a woman on the street who doesn’t respond to men’s catcalls or smile when they say, “Cheer up, baby, it can’t be that bad.” We use it for the woman who has a better job than a man and doesn’t apologize for it. We use it for the woman who doesn’t back down from a confrontation.

So let’s not be disingenuous. Is it a bad word? Of course it is. As a culture, we’ve done everything possible to make sure of that, starting with a constantly perpetuated mindset that deems powerful women to be scary, angry and, of course, unfeminine—and sees uncompromising speech by women as anathema to a tidy, well-run world.

Well said, ma’am. Well said.

Bitchery reader Kelly sent me a scan of a Tictac ad from this month’s Entertainment Weekly. And oh, the unintentional comedy, it is firming my abs as I laugh.

Take a look at the ad itself. Clinches aren’t just for romance novels or newspaper articles about abuse legislation. Oh no, the clinch, it is for your fresh fruity breath!

My favorite part? Besides the idea of “cherry passion,” which could easily be a romance title in and of itself - the juxtaposition of that man and that ad copy. Mixed fruit experience, indeed!

My abs, they thank you, Mr. or Ms. TicTac Ad Copy Writer.

New reader Ally wrote in with a fantasy request - that’s a request for a fantasy novel, y’all. Don’t get all excited.

Rugged, somewhat unkempt night errant finds himself inside a walled city in the guardianship of a pair of nubile young princesses. The scene I remember most vividly (for some stupid reason) is when he gives them swimming lessons--they don’t know how, being Sheltered Princesses--and he is rather aroused by the sight of them in wet clothes. Ahem. At the end, something attacks the walled city, and a whole bunch of gods swoop in to save the city and talk to our hero about--something. I can’t remember. I think he gets to marry one of the princesses, despite being, like, 40. At least that’s what I sort of remember.

Hot swimming lessons with rugged older man? Yowza!

As Mightygodking noted: there’s only one joke to this video, but HOLY CHRIST it’s a good one.

Hang on, doesn’t what he do to the candles and what he does to himself when he’s alone count as the same thing? Wait, ‘scuse me: [bleep] as the same thing?

Bitchery reader Sarah (not me) asks for help with a makeover story.

Back when I was in Junior High (the 80’s) I read a book about a high school girl who decides to make herself over, using two books for inspiration. The first book is a “How to get a guy in 10 days” sort of deal. The second is a romance novel swiped from her mom.

I remember much hilarity as this smart girl tries to revamp herself, and to understand her world in terms of the romance novel and the advice book--and the discovery that, if you pick and choose wisely, they both might have something to offer.

Other details escape me, though I recall a lot of jokes about the romance novel going “crazy with the fire imagery.”

I’m asking about it not only because it’s making me nuts, but also because it occurs to me that you and your readers might get a kick out of the book.

Anyway, thanks, if you know anything about this one!

After getting a somewhat hysterical email from Barbara Caridad Ferrer, we have narrowed down a field of hilarious entries to the top 9, who will receive a copy of It’s Not About the Accent with a grand prize winner who will receive a copy of both It’s Not About the Accent, and Adios to My Old Life, plus a copy of Guitar Hero III.

We have our winners!  You guys made this ridiculously hard, you know that?  Y’all are wicked funny and had me envisioning multiple scenarios with these characters.  So, using the very scientific methods of “Omigod, I just snorted Diet Coke up my nose” and “I nearly wet myself laughing,” we’ve come up with these nine finalists and one grand prize winner!

The Top 9

Fabiano (means “bean grower”, yeah baby)
Hotter than Paris and Paris
Posted by Lila

Name: Xavier Michael Santiago
Stage name: X as in album title “X"tasy.
5 word decription: He’s smart like Kellie Pickler
Posted by Angelina

Billy Joe Haggard
Five Words: As Country as It sounds
Lead Singer of the Country/Pop group “Dixie-Flavored Man Candy” or D.F.M.C. as they refer to it on the radio.
Posted by PattiR

his name is shev’lavio. 
small s.  apostrophe included.
Posted by sartorias

Samuel Edward Xavier
“My initials are my life”
Posted by SamG

Brett Vanderhöög
He rocks harder with umlauts.
Posted by aurianrose

Robbie O: Because together they are Robiana.
Posted by RandomRanter

Javier Garcia, but he goes by Jaaaa-vier (He’s pissed that his parents didn’t have the common courtesy to have a unique last name so he wouldn’t have to come up with a new one. Which he hasn’t because thinking is HARD, vato.).
Oh, and it’s also the name of my sister’s ex-husband.  She’d appreciate this.
Description: The universe revolves around him.
Posted by Maria

SB Sarah says: Getting back at the sister’s ex-husband?  Bonus points.

Hoff Herrera
Mama Herrera Likey Hasselhoff Era
Posted by CathyB. 

SB Sarah says: PSST!!  CathyB - please with your contact info, since I can’t contact you!

Barbara Ferrer says: It’s Hoff, man!  How could we not?  And think of the costuming possibilities!  Leather.... And chest hair!

And our Sooper Grand Prize Winner is...

Bitchery reader Katia has a taller order: she’s going on vacation and needs some beach reading, and is encountering some difficulty in finding romance novels featuring Jewish folks:

I’ve been looking for stuff with Jewish protagonists, though Romancelandia seems mostly pretty WASPy, with some Catholics thrown in for flavor.

You think? Romancelandia is homogenized and Christian? Please. Used to be having a French protagonist was the romance writing equivalent of slapping your grandmother. Jewish? Fuggedabahdit.

So - anyone got any recommendations?

Kate Rothwell is hosting a contest for November in which you have 400 words to reveal the Big Secret. The entries are varied, though no Ernie and Bert fanfic as of yet (and as we all know, Ernie & Bert + fanfic = WIN!).

But the prizes offered caught my eye because, damn, they’re really cool. Seems Kate volunteers teaching ESL in Hartford to Bosnian refugees, and among the skills of the Bosnian women she teachers there is Sock Making. Not just any socks. Bosnian Socks. Seriously. And they rock, these socks. As Kate says on her site:

Who are the women of Bosanke?

Most of them are war widows with children who were driven from their small family farms during the war in Bosnia. Some are from villages where every male over the age of 13 was killed. One woman related a too-common refugee’s story: One morning soldiers rounded up and killed every man she’d ever known. Her husband, brothers, uncles, nephews, father, father-in-law all were taken to a field and shot. She and the other women of the village were herded out to a primitive camp. She was not sure if she would live or die and despite her fear, rather hoped she might die and join her husband. Eventually she and the other women were taken to a refugee camp in Germany. She was shuffled between camps for years and at last came to this country in 2002. She is unusual only in that she finished high school. She now has a part-time job.

Many of the women did not receive much schooling in their villages. Several cannot read in their native language. Their skills (milking cows, making cheese, tending fields, caring for animals, carding and spinning wool) are not much in demand in their new lives in urban Hartford. We hope you will enjoy the traditional skills they still employ—knitting, crocheting and weaving.

So if you win the Big Secret contest, you get a pair of Bosnian socks, knitted by refugees who are now working as part of Bosanke Crafts. Bosnian socks are a pretty damn fabulous prize.  Way to go Kate!

The first two covers are courtesy of Louise, who hoped that we would “enjoy them.” Oh we did, Louise. The only way we could’ve enjoyed them more would’ve been if Fabio had showed up at our houses and given us Brazilian waxes.

Candy: First of all, the texture on the guy’s hair is kind of eerie. I keep thinking that if I stare at it long enough, I’ll see tortured, weeping faces in the swirling patterns, or something.

Second of all: Dude! No, I mean it--the woman’s a dude. Why do artists insist on using Willem Dafoe in drag as a model? Pondering this enigma is seriously sapping me of the will to live.

Sarah: This may be the first ever cover art where the chick’s boobs are appropriately sagging. NOTHING sags in RomanceLandia, didn’t you get the memo? Hell, historical heroines have smooth hairless legs.

And speaking of, her boobs may sag, but Fabio clearly just left her house after giving her an underarm wax.

Candy: The alien incubating in the guy’s right shoulderblade is getting ripe, and will pop out any day now. That’ll teach him to eat after midnight.

Sarah: Do you see the iddy biddy boner? It’s kind of like the camel on the cigarette pack only not nearly as subtle.

Candy: Holy crapmonkeys! I didn’t know Nightcrawler had a younger, gayer, creepier, more transparent younger brother.

Sarah: Did Rebecca Brandewyne dress up as that guy on the back of the cover? And if she did, was she in severe hypoxia at the time?

Because, man, there is nothing sexier than hypothermic love.

Candy: Behold the power of this woman’s exposed knees! Her legs are so amazing, the mere sight of them are capable of making falcons shit out fully-formed (if rather creepy-looking) men.

Sarah: Clearly this needs to be an entry in the Art of War: to flush out (har) your enemy, drop a magenta clad Ondine in to the bushes. Her ruffled allure will force your prey to get buck naked, and you’ll be able to spot him easily in the foliage by the glimmer of his white, white ass.

Sarah reviewed Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist for Romancenovel.tv earlier this week, and I was supposed to get in on the HOT HOT VIDEO REVIEW ACTION, but alas, technical fuckiness got in the way. It ain’t easy being bi...coastal. So you get a review the old-fashioned way instead, which is almost definitely for the best, because appearing on TV presents all sorts of difficulties, such as dealing with the fact that I’m Sarah’s Tyler Durden. (And if you’re wondering whether this is my incredibly roundabout way of saying that I’m actually Brad Pitt...well, I’ll ask you this: have you ever seen the two of us in the same room?

Think about it.)

My corporeal status notwithstanding, here’s what I think of Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist:

I like it. I like it a lot. It’s not perfect by any means, and I didn’t fall head-over-heels in love with it, but it is a fresh and daring beastie, and in many ways, it’s a very well-crafted story. The book, not unlike a good pop song, is rife with hooks. Behold:

1. It’s about a boy who asks a stranger to be his Five-Minute Girlfriend. I am a sucker for this storyline. The Fake Fiancé(e) plot will get me every. Goddamn. Time.

2. In the tradition of some of the greatest coming-of-age tales, like American Graffiti, it takes place in the course of one night.

3. Late-night teenage capers! In Manhattan!

4. The book is written exclusively in first-person, with all the bits from Nick’s perspective are written by David Levithan, and all the bits from Norah’s perspective are written by Rachel Cohn, and the chapters alternate point-of-view.

Good, clean fun.

So Our Intrepid Hero, Nick, is the bassist for a queercore band and has just finished playing a show when his Evil Ex Girlfriend hoves into view. In desperation, he turns to the girl in flannel standing next to him and asks her whether she’ll be his five-minute girlfriend. And after some struggle, she agrees. And they share a smoking-hot kiss. And then her Evil Ex appears. And then assorted adventures ensue, including hijinks that involve a dying Yugo, a jacket named Salvatore and a strip club featuring dancers who dress up like nuns while performing songs from The Sound of Music. And since it’s a YA novel, along the way, the two of them learn valuable lessons about letting go, taking chances, making the right sorts of choices and not moving too fast. Awww!

And really, if there’s one thing I have to complain about with this book, it’s that I could sometimes spot the Big Lessons too easily. I didn’t like it when I was a kid, and I like it even less as an adult. Cohn and Levithan aren’t especially heavy-handed with it (unlike the utterly execrable Rainbow Party), but some of the characters behaved in perfectly convincing precocious teenagerish ways, and other times behaved in ways that you would mostly see only in a YA novel. Nick’s Evil Ex, in particular, was inconsistent in rather jarring ways, and there were times when I wondered why Nick and Norah didn’t behave more like the horny teenagers they are, but these quibbles are minor. What I liked about the book far outshone the problems I had with it. There are three things in particular that stand out for me:

1. The way it talks about music. Music is an incredibly visceral experience for me, and it’s taking over a lot of the “Keep Candy Happy and Sane” tasks that leisure reading used to accomplish (because leisure reading time isn’t exactly in plentiful supply nowadays, cry). I’m a bit of a music geek (if I weren’t so slapdash about the way I dress, I’d probably qualify as *gulp* a hipster), and going to a show is often a full-body experience for me. Cohn and Levithan capture that really, really well, with all the force and unfettered passion of teenagers whose emotions well so full and so hot, they threaten to burst out of their skins.

2. Its portrayal of teenage sexuality. Norah is horny. Nick is horny. They fool around. They’re not virgins. They think very frankly about sex. Yeah yeah yeah, I mention up above that I wish Nick and Norah had behaved more like horny teenagers, but by and large, this book captures the impetuousness and sexiness and high-running emotion of teenage crushdom without seeming either exploitative or preachy. Teenagers think a lot about sex, and the book treats that as a given without making it a point of titillation. That’s hard to do, bitches.

3. This is probably my favorite aspect of all: I love, love, love the queer-friendliness of this book. This is not your mom’s YA novel. Nick plays in a queercore band. His bandmates are gay. Norah, at one point, has doubts about Nick’s sexual orientation, and she’s peeved because she wants his hot ass, and not because being gay is somehow revolting or villainous. During the night, they go to a strip club full of drag queens and strippers dressed as nuns. There’s a little bit of girl-on-girl making out. And it’s all portrayed as more-or-less the status quo. I especially loved the fact that Nick’s sexuality comes off as somewhat ambiguous to the outside eye. When was the last time somebody like this was portrayed positively in a romance novel? Shit, when was the last time a character like this was actually a hero in a romance novel? I can’t think of too many. Nick’s ambiguousness and the general queer-friendly air of the book were a breath of fresh air, especially compared to the way romance novels tend to hyper-masculinize their men--which, paradoxically, enough, often makes me wonder what they’re attempting to compensate for. The contrast Nick provided was especially stark because I read this right after I finished Dark Lover by JR Ward.

And speaking of Nick, I would like to state for the record that for much of the book, I felt like a pedophile because he is HOLY CRAP SO HOT. It’s highly disconcerting to develop a hard-on for a fictional character 11 years younger than me, but seriously? I’d do Nick, and do him hard.

Sarah, in her video review, mentioned the ending and the issue of the Happily Ever After. I have some issues with the way the way the Happily Ever After is often portrayed and treated in romance novels, and the rather strange and, to be perfectly frank, somewhat fucked-up expectations we seem to have, but that’s another rant for another day. I agree with Sarah: the ending is excellent and full of hope and future adventure, and it doesn’t make the typical mistake that many stories do that take place in similarly compressed timelines, i.e., end with the protagonists declaring love everlasting (like the creepy and awful and unintentionally hilarious ”Naughty Under the Mistletoe”).

In short, if you’re looking for a Young Adult romance that’s unusual, unabashedly urban and topical (though it sometimes verges on the fleetingly scenester-ish--fifteen years from now, kids reading this will be snickering and rolling their eyes at the references to emo and hipsters, I have a feeling), pick this book up. It’s unlike any YA novel I’ve read, and I really wish I’d had something like it when I was a teenager. I certainly love reading it now, well past my teenage years, and have Cohn and Levithan re-capture some of the spark and turmoil of those years for me.

Barbara Caridad Ferrer and I cooked up a contest for your creative pleasure - you name a character for her latest book, and win books to read! Woot!

Ferrer explains:

“Be careful or you’ll wind up in my novel.” I have this saying on a sweatshirt.  I love wearing this sweatshirt.  It always prompts a nice little double take.

But this isn’t about me.  Well, it is, but it’s also about you, dear readers.  Have you ever wanted to create/name a character?  Well, here’s your chance.  I’m beginning work on a sequel/companion novel to Adiós to My Old Life. I say companion novel because it’s not another YA, but rather, an adult story, taking place ten years after the end of Adiós, where we get to revisit all the characters we loved and those we didn’t love so much.

For those of you who read the book, remember Fabiana?  Raging poseur bitch from hell?

For those of you who haven’t read the book, Fabiana—just Fabiana—is a raging poseur bitch from hell.  Think… Bastard love child of Madonna, Gwen Stefani, & Shakira, but with not as much talent and with Axl Rose’s ego.  Yeah, she’s really that bad.

Anyhow, in the sequel, Fabiana has become a tabloid talk/variety show host and I think she needs a boyfriend - and this is where you come in.  I need some suggestions as to a name and type of guy he might be.  The only guideline is that I see him as the lead singer of some sort of band— what type of band, not a big thing.  He can be like Residente, from Calle 13 (rap/reggaetón) or like Fehr, from Maná (sort of hard rock) or even like Ricky Martín— and he’s going to be stupider than dirt, poor thing.  Fabiana wants him for his buns and his ability to be arm candy.

So what’s in it for you?

Aside from the fact that you can get revenge on the boyfriend who broke your heart and immortalize him as a complete jackass, the ten best, as judged by me and the Smart Bitches, will get signed copies of my latest release, It’s Not About the Accent, and as extra incentive, what with the holidays and all coming up, there’s gonna be a Extra Sooper Grand Prize, which will be copies of both Adiós and Accent and a copy of GUITAR HERO III for the gaming system of your choice.  (Yeah, I know what the real draw’s gonna be, my ego’s not THAT big.)

You’ll also get my undying gratitude.

So put the thinking caps on and give us your best loser rock star name.

Bueno! Head on down to the comments and give us your entry: we need a name and a five word description of said dude. You have 24 hours starting now - so name that dude!

I have to confess something: I have a total weakness for Bollywood. I have an entire 8 minute video of a really funky dance sequence featuring Aishwarya Rai on my iPod. If I can tolerate the incredibly high pitches, I dig it. The traditional Hindi dance moves performed by men in modern clothing - the juxtaposition just about kills me.

But this video, from Bitchery reader Megan, has me totally transfixed. Not only are the nuns gay, Benny Lava, but man, I am looking at anoraks in a whole new light. Sexy, sexy!