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

As you’re hopped up on egg nog, enjoy the holiday madness here at Smart Bitches!

Sarah: Nothing says “Christmas” like Ryan Seacrest on a meth bender. Holly jolly, indeed!

Candy: Why is David Boreanaz on a Harlequin cover, and why is he channeling Arnold Schwarzenegger circa 1986?

Sarah: Not that she doesn’t look lovely in that dress, and not that I’m being a wicked catty bitch, but that might be the first depiction of arm flab on a cover model. Now we need heroes with some muffin top! Real People in Romance Now! (And I hope she sets him on fire with that bigass candle because he looks creepy. I’d rather kiss Milton.)

Candy: Oh, man. A cover featuring That Douche From the Office. You know, the one who gives you unasked-for shoulder rubs because you look “tense.” The one who leers at you when you wear a pretty new sweater to work. The one who talks about how much his former girlfriends enjoyed sex with him. You know, That Douche. Yech.

Sarah: Check out this cover, and the one directly above it. I swear, that’s the same dude. And he is making the rounds of the holiday party in a manner which I am sure will be written up in next year’s employee conduct manual.

Candy: “A ring that’s capable of trapping a million tortured souls per carat? Just what I always wanted! Look at how the bright flames of their agony make the cover artist apply the lens flare effect like they’re paid a thousand dollars every time they hit the Ctrl-F button!”

“Nothing’s too good for my schnookums!”

Oops! I have missed a coronation opportunity, and I most humbly apologize. Kay Harrison correctly identified PattiR’s request for help as The Matchmaker by Kay Hooper - my apologies Kay (Harrison, not Hooper).

Kneel, and arise a member of the exceptionally awesome Smart Bitch Peerage:

As part of the Bitchery Promise that if you nail the correct book in a Help a Bitch Out in one try as verified by the original poster, you win a Smart Bitch Title™. Jeaniene Frost totally guessed Countess Knobbersley’s request in identifying a book as Ride the Savage Sea by Mallory Burgess. First, who came up with that title? Second, way to go Jeaniene!

To start off the new year right, begin by making all your dinner reservations at restaurants under your new title:

Well done and well played!

Michelle Styles, who is a beekeeper and that’s just bloody awesome, sent me a link to an article in The Guardian about the late Benazir Bhutto titled The Flawed and Feudal Princess. The author, William Dalrymple, met Bhutto on an interview, and attempts to write a contrasting account of her life, personal and political, in light of her assassination last week.

I won’t pretend in the least any ability to speak intelligently about Pakistani politics and Bhutto’s legacy as a former Prime Minister and candidate in the upcoming elections. But the mention of Bhutto’s love of romance novels in Dalrymple’s article is interesting:

For the Americans, what Benazir Bhutto wasn’t was possibly more attractive even than what she was. She wasn’t a religious fundamentalist, she didn’t have a beard, she didn’t organise rallies where everyone shouts: ‘Death to America’ and she didn’t issue fatwas against Booker-winning authors, even though Salman Rushdie ridiculed her as the Virgin Ironpants in his novel Shame.

However, the very reasons that made the West love Benazir Bhutto are the same that gave many Pakistanis second thoughts. Her English might have been fluent, but you couldn’t say the same about her Urdu which she spoke like a well-groomed foreigner: fluently, but ungrammatically. Her Sindhi was even worse; apart from a few imperatives, she was completely at sea.

English friends who knew Benazir at Oxford remember a bubbly babe who drove to lectures in a yellow MG, wintered in Gstaad and who to used to talk of the thrill of walking through Cannes with her hunky younger brother and being ‘the centre of envy; wherever Shahnawaz went, women would be bowled over’.

This Benazir, known to her friends as Bibi or Pinky, adored royal biographies and slushy romances: in her old Karachi bedroom, I found stacks of well-thumbed Mills and Boons including An Affair to Forget, Sweet Imposter and two copies of The Butterfly and the Baron. This same Benazir also had a weakness for dodgy Seventies easy listening - ‘Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree’ was apparently at the top of her playlist. This is also the Benazir who had an enviable line in red-rimmed fashion specs and who went weak at the sight of marrons glace.

Curious use of romance novels to create an understanding of a female leader. As Styles said in her email to me, “In many ways, it is unremarkable—an intelligent woman reading romance.” True - and say what you will about Bhutto’s political leadership, she was not unintelligent.

The article itself is thought provoking, and one of the few that painted a both-sides portrait of Bhutto, who was both singular as a woman leader in that part of the world, and not so extraordinary as she had a large amount of controversy and allegations of corruption surrounding her. That Dalrymple makes a it a point that she read “slushy” romance is interesting, though, because on one hand it makes her relatable to Western women who do read romance for leisure. But on the other hand, I wonder if the comment was meant to illustrate a flippant, uncaring side of her personality, who spent the wealth she had without worrying about those who lived under her administration - a point underscored by the account of how little her administration did to support the poor in Pakistan.

Truthfully, this is one of the few uses of romance reading as a marker of some degree of femininity or womanhood that didn’t raise my hackles. However, I’m not holding my breath for the release of an article detailing Hillary Clinton’s top favorite romance novels. Not a chance. 

Rainefenix writes in an email with the subject line, “a brain maggot of a book I can’t remember” - lovely mental image, btw. Now my scalp itches - that she’s looking for a book, but she can only remember one specific scene:

So this thing has been eating at my brain for a while and I can’t afford to lose anymore brain cells.  I probably read it in the mid-eighties. And it was probably from the stacks of twine tied books my mom bought at thrift stores to feed my book habit. It may have been from the library but given the the scene I remember probably not (local librarian tended to give me the hairy eyeball if I grabbed anything other than Harlequins and YA.)

All I have is a half remembered scene from the book where the heroine spies on the hero while he’s indulging in multiple partners and some marijuana. I think I was about 12 when I read it, I remember being awed by the mix of marijuana and sex marathon. Vaguely think a lot of it is at some kind of sex club.  I think it was Victorian, or Edwardian England, though the heroine may have been American or maybe it was the hero.  The hero was the 80’s Alpha/Asshole type. Heroine the typical 80’s spunky almost TSTL type.

This one is driving me nuts because I can usually I.D. the book, but all I’m getting is a replay of the one scene. Over and over and over in my head. It won’t stop.  Oh, and for some reason I keep seeing lots of red velvet and gold silk.

I’m thinking your crew is my only hope of figuring this one out.

Sounds like a historical version of that scene where Queen Betsy sees Eric gettin’ some with a crew of other vampires. Only I don’t remember Eric enjoying a spleef while he humperated. Anyone remember this scene? 

Thanks to Kalen Hughes, I have spied with my little bespectacled eye the Romantic Times nominations for Reader’s Choice awards. Hello there, Nathalie Gray, Victoria Dahl, and Kalen Hughes. And Julia Quinn. And damn, that’s a LOT of nominees. How long is this awards ceremony?

I’m STILL SCROLLING. And look, Dot Frank. She lives in my town.

And PC Cast and Kristin Cast - hot diggity.  And J.D. Robb.

OK, still scrolling. Holy cow.

Samantha Graves! Marianne Stillings! Jeaniene Frost!

AND THERE BETTER BE A BATHROOM BREAK TIMES 10 if this is all in one ceremony, is all I’m sayin’.

Look, there’s Lilith Saintcrow’s Dante Valentine nominated as best heroine - whee!

I need a bathroom break from reading this list.

Liz Fielding is nominated too!

And my eyes are crossing. I’m actually cross-eyed so it’s not like this is a new thing but with double vision this list just got twice as long. And if there’s someone here who I’ve missed, give yourself a shoutout.

WOW. That’s a lot of nominees. So, since I know diddly-poo about the RT conference except that I plan on going, is this one ceremony? Or, is there a ceremony? Or are the winners issued in a blanket announcement? And is it going to be Saturday night this year because who the hell crapping planned it to coincide with Pesach such that all us Passover-celebrating Jewish folk have to head off to seder on Saturday night? Because, dude, BOO on that decision.

My matzo musings notwithstanding, booyah to those who scored a nomination - name checking is always a good thing.

The flip side of asking for the good stuff to read? I also need some average to oh-man-that’s-horrid recommendations, too. BUT, if you are not thrilled with the idea of wielding the hammer of “Holy Crap This Stank” against a fellow author, please feel free to But please, hook me up with some truly average to holy-crapdamn-bad category recommendations, too?

Please?

Hello? Anyone?

Bueller? 

UPDATED: Category! I meant Category! Categorically yikky category that you just plain didn’t like.

Note to self: never post while exhausted. Doh! 

Senetra, Countess Knobbersley, needs help with a book that, well, sounds just heartbreaking:

I need some help finding a book that I read sometime between 1989 and 1991. It was an Elizabethan historical with a noble heroine and the hero was a fisherman, and amazingly, he was not revealed to be noble at the end of the book. The heroine's brother married her off the the hero maybe because of a debt, and while she resisted at first, they were happy. They had a daughter who they named Anjelica, but she dies after being bitten by a rat while they were out fishing. I think the brother even tries to marry the heroine off to someone else later in the book. The ending has the H/H on a ship to America, and Sir Walter Raleigh may even make an appearance.

Help me, Smart Bitches, you're my only hope!

Senetra, Countess Knobbersley.

Does this ring any bells for y'all?

As I’ve been working on The Book, I’ve realized that there are woefully large holes in my romance reading education. Never mind that every day is “Help a Bitch Out” day in my brain as I try to remember which plot goes with which title and author name. I am one of those people who remembers the cover image and color scheme more than the names. It’s truly a flaw, but it’s not as bad as my inability to remember numbers. I am a complete mess when trying to remember an address in Manhattan, where there’s building numbers, street numbers, floor numbers, and suite numbers. Forget it. Everyone needs to live on a named avenue.

Anyway, as I’ve confronted these giant gaping embarrassing holes in my romance knowledge, I have decided to do what I usually do when I realize I don’t know about something. I fire up the OCD and start reading and learning as much as I can as fast as I can until my brain says, “ENOUGH. GO WATCH QVC while I percolate!”

So! Here’s my plan: January 2008: I’m going to read category novels. HQ: Presents, SilDesire, Blaze - as many as I can. I’m skipping the Steeple Hill as inspirational romance is another gaping hole to be leaped over at a later date.

(February 2008: Black Romance. Any and all romance featuring African-American protagonists. But I’m not ready to plan that one yet.)

My plan is to read and review as many category novels as I can, though the reviews may be smaller than my normal nattering of many, many words, so that I can not only familiarize myself with as many of these books as possible, but understand how they work and why they comprise such a popular and enduring niche in the romance publishing world. Fortunately for me, my wallet, and my bag (and my back!) I am starting to build an eBook library bit by bit so if I can find some titles online, that makes me a happy Sarah.

If you have any recommendations - series romance past, present, or way, way back in the day - please pass it along. I’m a-hunting a wide sample.

House Rule: You may, of course, recommend your own book, BUT for every one of your own books you mention, you must recommend one by another author. 

Thanks to my friend DB, I have been made aware of Poopin’ Scoopin’ Barbie aka the Barbie Doll and Tanner set.

The best part? The “treats” you feed Tanner are also the “poop” that comes out of his butt. Logan, my wonder pooch, has all kinds of posterior issues that I won’t go into because, hey, you might be eating and that Barbie video was more than enough, but suffice it to say Logan has to take doses of bacon-flavored laxative. Logan re-enacts Tanner’s treat-n-poop sequence every single day. I can’t believe Barbie is thrilled about this. I know I’m not.

But wait, there’s more! For you cat lovers out there:

Theresa Doll & her cat Mika Give Mika some water, then squeeze poor Mika over the the sandbox, and there’s clumps of cat whiz to clean up with your Barbie litter scoop.

I am just dumbfounded with the hilarity of these toys, and I can’t figure out which one to get for Hubby. To hell with awesome kickass Pirate Barbie. THESE are the Barbies that will be worth BIG BUCKS in the future, despite that pesky recall. Mark my words!

Here are my Amazon recommendations for today, based on my past purchases. Paranormal this that and the other thing… and?

The most gayest Ken doll ever, Barbie Ken Fantasy Tales Tea Party. I bet his partner is Prince Charming on Ice (a Smart Bitch favorite). And the jealous man in the love triangle? That’d be Prince Derek, who has a bit of a thing for shoes.

Comment Mistress forwarded me a link to a glossary of medical jargon - of course, “Hasselhoff” makes it on the list:

Hasselhoff:

A patient presenting to accident and emergency with an injury with a bizarre explanation. (After the former Baywatch actor David Hasselhoff, who suffered a freak injury when he hit his head on a chandelier while shaving. The broken glass severed four tendons as well as an artery in his right arm, which required immediate surgery.4)

A day without Hasselhoff is like a day without sunshine.

It’s that holiday season of beautifully-wrapped gifts, alcohol-drenched company parties, buffets of snacks on everyone’s cubicle - and a crop of Christmas-themed romances to bring sugar to your plums and mistle to your toes.

Sarah: Based on where he’s got his left hand, that Santa better hide where no one can seek him, is all I’m sayin’. “Kids ‘n kisses” is kraptastically kreepy.

Candy: Nothing says “Have a Sexy Christmas” like a puffy shirt tucked into Mom jeans and a Santa suit.

Sarah: I know that many women are not gifted in the mammary department, but I’m not sure that this woman is, well, a woman. Looks like her falsie slipped a bit southward. It might be Christmas at Blue Ball Ranch, if you know what I mean.

Candy: “All I want for Christmas is...an insufferably smug expression. And the grace to not be caught in the middle of a freakin’ hurricane while attempting to make out with this drunk sorority girl I picked up from Texas A&M.”

Sarah: Given the coked out expression on that man’s face, the paltry chip pile and the limp billfold - let alone that shirt - if I were that woman, I’d be betting on Santa, too. 

Candy: Santa needs a royal flush, a cowboy shirt that’s not made from polyester and a shower--not necessarily in that order.

Remember, kids: gambling during the holidays is sexy!

Bitchery reader Melissa has very sketchy (HA!) details on this one:

I read a book a while ago that was a romantic suspense set in New Orleans. The heroine was an artist…I seem to remember that she was something of a hick and made it onto the NO Art Scene in the book. Oh and the killer targeted her for some reason.

I am sorry, I just can’t remember much more. I just know that I enjoyed it. For the longest time I thought that Tami Hoag wrote it, but when I looked I could not find the novel.

I know it’s a long shot. Thanks for trying.

Ok - color this one in (I am just cracking myself up bad over here. Emphasis on “bad") - anyone recognize this book based on the pencil-thin details? 

Bitchery readers Sarah, Cathleen, and Kristen all forwarded me this link from the great state of Iowa: an aspiring novelist was fired from her job for writing while at work. The Des Moines Register article has an excerpt of her “tawdry lust novel.” Surf shorts hugging asses… le sigh.

Fired for writing on the job? Oh, boy. Most of the time I’m pre-writing and post-dating just about everything so I don’t write when I’m not on my own computer. Alas, being a Smart Bitch is not my full-time job? Oh, how I wish, I wish, I wish upon any available man-titty. But no, I gots me a job. And the folks at my job, they are aware that I am Duchess of Cuntington, and they think my business cards of Bitcherdom are hilarious. I work for awesome people. But writing from work? Specifically, blogging? That is Bad Idea Jeans.

So, writing your novel from work? Also, Bad Idea Jeans. I’m not surprised that she was denied unemployment benefits. Unfortunately, writing, and specifically I am speaking of blogging, is not something that’s discussed in corporate policies of “personal use” of the company internet connection. Most bloggers are desk jockeys; it’s hard to be a blogger if you’re not actually at a computer or don’t have both hands free to type. So do people blog and do personal writing on company time on company machinery? Sure.

But what defines “personal use,” and what writing is ok, and what’s not? Because standards of “appropriate use” and “personal use” vary, each company defines it on their own. If a financial analyst keeps a personal blog detailing her opinions of market trends, and manages to generate good press for her employer as traffic to her site increases, is that personal use or unsanctioned but effective PR for her employer? Depends on whether the employer cares. If another employee is a huge movie buff, and keeps a site that reviews new releases, is it ok for that person to read comments, respond to them, or add new entries at work? Depends on whether the employer cares.

If one employee is using his computer to check his bank balance, pay bills online, or surf through political blogs, is that better or worse than another employee keeping an online community of abuse survivors running through Yahoo:groups? What’s personal? What’s appropriate? And for heaven’s sake, what are realistic expectations of what employees can and can’t do on their work computers? Personal banking ok, personal writing aspirations not ok? So far, the onus is on the employee to not be a dumdum, and one person’s common sense is another person’s not-so-much common sense. Everyone has a story about someone whose supervisor got busted printing out porn or conducting a torrid affair online.

While writing erotica on a work computer, or, in the case of the other person in the Register article, keeping a journal of how one avoids work, is most certainly a major case of DUH, defining personal use and appropriate use now that so much of people’s lives can be conducted online is an issue, one that continues to increase in importance as more people use computers to do their jobs, and find themselves with a free minute or two to get busy with their personal business. Just where the line of demarcation is regarding how far they can go to “get busy” in the name of “personal business” is something that needs greater attention and discussion.