by SB Sarah • Monday, January 07, 2008 at 07:18 AM
After I received the email from Candy indicating her friend Kate had found passages in a Cassie Edwards novel that were identical to other sources available online, I went upstairs to my stash of Cassie Edwards (Gee, Thanks Lilith and Candy!) and flipped through them to see if I could find any language that didn’t fit, or any sections that did not match the prose immediately preceding or following.
Below is what I found.
From Running Fox by Cassie Edwards
Copyright: 2006
First printing: December 2006
ISBN: 0-451-21996-1
Signet Historical Romance, a division of Penguin Putnam
Page 94-95
“There are small cakes made from berries of all kinds that are gathered by my people’s women, then dried in the sun. The dried foods are used in soups, to, and for mixing with the pounded jerked meat and fat to form a much prized delicacy.”
He saw her eyes move to the vegetables. “You can eat a strip of teepsinna. It is starchy but solid, with a sweetish taste.” He smiled as his eyes dropped to her waist, and then he gazed into her eyes again. “It is also fattening.”
“What else is on the platter?” Nancy asked, still hesitant about what to eat and ignoring what he had said about one vegetable being fattening.
“There is also some wild sweet potato, which is found in the riverbeds....”
“Tiny mice gather wild beans for their winter use,” Running Fox said, smiling slowly at her reaction. “The storehouses for these beans, made by the animals, are under a peculiar mound which the untrained eye is unable to distinguish from an anthill. There are many pockets underneath, into which the animals gather their harvest. Usually in the month that white people call September, a woman comes upon a suspected mound, usually by accident. The heel of her moccasin might cause a place to give way on the mound. She then settles down to rob the poor mice of the fruits of their labor.”
From
Indian Boyhood by Charles Alexander Eastman
Copyright: Bibliobooks 2007
First printing: 1902
ISBN: 978-1-4264-7279-4
Available via Google:Books and World Wide School.org
Chapter 10, Section III: Wild Harvests
“After all, the wild Indians could not be justly termed improvident, when their manner of life is taken into consideration. They let nothing go to waste, and labored incessantly during the summer and fall to lay up provision for the inclement season. Berries of all kinds were industriously gathered, and dried in the sun. Even the wild cherries were pounded up, stones and all, made into small cakes and dried for use in soups and for mixing with the pounded jerked meat and fat to form a much-prized Indian delicacy.
Out on the prairie in July and August the women were wont to dig teepsinna with sharpened sticks, and many a bag full was dried and put away. This teepsinna is the root of a certain plant growing mostly upon high sandy soil. It is starchy but solid, with a sweetish taste, and is very fattening....
There was another root that our people gathered in small quantities. It is a wild sweet potato, found in bottom lands or river beds.
The primitive housekeeper exerted herself much to secure a variety of appetizing dishes; she even robbed the field mouse and the muskrat to accomplish her end. The tiny mouse gathers for her winter use several excellent kinds of food. Among these is a wild bean which equals in flavor any domestic bean that I have ever tasted. Her storehouse is usually under a peculiar mound, which the untrained eye would be unable to distinguish from an ant-hill. There are many pockets underneath, into which she industriously gathers the harvest of the summer.
She is fortunate if the quick eye of a native woman does not detect her hiding-place. About the month of September, while traveling over the prairie, a woman is occasionally observed to halt suddenly and waltz around a suspected mound. Finally the pressure of her heel causes a place to give way, and she settles contentedly down to rob the poor mouse of the fruits of her labor.”
From Running Fox by Cassie Edwards
Pages 173-174
“I shall begin by explaining my people’s religion to you. The religion of the Lakota consists principally, but not wholly, in the worship of visible things of this world, animate and inanimate. We know of a god and a devil. We call the god Wakantanka....”
Page 175
“Our people’s chief object of worship is Unkteri, the mammoth. We have pieces of the bones of the mammoth in our possession.... The species of mammoth that we worship resembles the buffalo or ox but is of more enormous size than those that wander the earth today. Since it so much exceeded other animals in size, it was only natural that we Lakota adopted it as our chief god. To his worship, our most solemn religious festivals are dedicated....
Even I have found fossil bones, as a young brave.... I found them at the bottom of a river when I went there during water challenges. Those bones are highly prized for magical powers....”
“His Lakota people concluded that unkteri’s dwellings were in the water.”
From “The Dakotas in Minnesota in 1834”
From Collections by the Minnesota Historical Society Volume XII
Published in 1908
Original from The University of Michigan
Accessed using Google:Books
Popup Image of Page Available
”The religion of the Dakotas consisted principally but not wholly in the worship of visible things of this world animate and inanimate. Their chief object of worship was Unkteri the mammoth though they held many erroneous opinions concerning that extinct species of elephant and did not know that the race was extinct. They had seen bones of the mammoth pieces of which they had in their possession and they were too well acquainted with comparative anatomy not to know that it was a quadruped. They described the species as resembling the buffalo or ox but of enormous size. As they worshipped many other animals it was natural that the mammoth which so much exceeded the others in size should be adopted as their chief god.
To his worship their most solemn religious festivals were dedicated. They supposed that the race was still in existence and as they were not seen on land and their bones were found in low and wet places they concluded that their dwelling was in the water. Their bones were highly prized for magical powers and were perhaps as valuable to them as relics of a saint are to a devout Catholic. A Dakota told me that he had discovered some of the fossil bones in the lake opposite Shakopee but was unable to raise them without some boat larger than a canoe.”
by Candy • Monday, January 07, 2008 at 06:24 AM
I was a doof and forgot to include all the tables I needed to in my initial entry about the usage of unattributed material in Cassie Edwards novels. I blame law school for disordering my mind. I suppose it’s a good thing anyway, since the table seems to be fucking up our shizznizzle.
At any rate, here’s more Cassie Edwards tastiness, this time from Savage Longings, published by Leisure Books in 1997, ISBN 0-8439-4176-6. In this particular book, I was only able to find usages from only one source text, The Cheyenne Indians: Their History and Ways of Life by George Bird Grinnell. Excerpts quoted under fair use, etc. etc., and please forgive any typos.
From Page 49 of Savage Longings:
The root digger was a slender, sharp-pointed implement which was used to thrust into the ground to pry out the roots. Each digger was made of ash, the point sharpened and hardened in the fire. There was a knob at one end to protect the hand.
From Page 209 of The Cheyenne Indians:
This work was done with the root-digger (his’ so), a slender, sharp-pointed implement to be thrust into the ground to pry out the roots. In modern times the root-digger has been of iron—any sort of an iron bar. In earlier days, however, these implements were of wood, usually ash, the point sharpened and hardened in the fire. One kind of root-digger was two and one-half to three feet long, and had a knob at one end to protect the hand.
From Page 323 of Savage Longings:
Snow Deer had explained to Charles that it was an old Cheyenne custom for visitors to occupy the lodge of some newly married couple who would then sleep elsewhere. She had told him that this was an honor not only to the owners of the lodge but also to the visitor.
From Page 146 of The Cheyenne Indians:
If visitors came to a village, the old custom was for them to occupy the lodge of some newly married couple, who would give them possession and sleep elsewhere. This was an honor to the visitor.
From page 325 of Savage Longings:
The women who belonged to this society created ceremonial decorations by sewing quills on robes, lodge coverings, and other things made of the skins of animals.
Snow Deer had told Charles that the Cheyenne women considered this work of high importance, and when properly performed, it was quite as much respected as were bravery and success in war among the men.
From Page 159 of The Cheyenne Indians:
Of the women’s associations referred to the most important one was that devoted to the ceremonial decoration, by sewing on quills, of robes, lodge coverings, and other things made of the skins of animals. This work women considered of high importance, and, when properly performed, quite as creditable as were bravery and success in war among the men.
From page 330 of Savage Longings:
The old quiller had then asked Becky to hold her hands out in front of her, palms up and edges together. The old woman bit off a piece of a certain root, chewed it fine, and spat it on Becky’s hand. Becky was then instructed in ceremonial motions, passing her right hand over the outside of her right leg, from ankle to hip, her left hand over her right arm from wrist to shoulder, her left hand over her left leg, from ankle to hip, and her right hand over the left arm, from wrist to shoulder.
Then her hands had been placed on her head and passed backward from the forehead.
From Page 160 of The Cheyenne Indians:
The old woman directed the candidate to hold her hands out in front of her, palms up and edges together. The old woman bit off a piece of a certain root, chewed it fine, and spat on the hands ceremonially, and the candidate made the ceremonial motions, passing the right hand over the from ankle to hip, her left hand over her right arm from wrist to shoulder, her left hand over her left leg from ankle to hip, and her right hand over the left arm from wrist to shoulder. Then the hands were placed on the head, and passed backward from the forehead.
Again, keep in mind that these are passages I’ve managed to find on-line; there were many suspicious passages that I couldn’t find source texts for, simply because Google failed and I can’t be bothered to haul my ass to the library. Are there any bored grad students/librarians in the audience who want to help me play Spot the Source Text? I have several passages marked from various other Edwards novels that I can e-mail you, and I’ll post anything you find (with full attribution, of course).
by Candy • Monday, January 07, 2008 at 05:13 AM
So my friend Kate (not to be confused with HaikuKatie of Nebula Haiku fame) was in desperate need of new reading material recently, and since she’d never read any romance novels before, I decided to throw some at her to see what she thought, since she’s a Classicist and an SF/F geek. I gave her examples of what I thought were the best (Lord of Scoundrels by Loretta Chase), the most popular (Dark Lover by J.R. Ward) and the worst (Shadow Bear by Cassie Edwards) of the genre.
Shadow Bear introduced poor Kate to all-new levels of pain--she’d never encountered a book in which ellipses and exclamation marks were abused with quite that much abandon, or in which the characters spoke in Glossary with such distressing consistency. What especially caught her eye, however, were the didactic passages in the book. They were written in a distinctly different voice, and out of idle curiosity, she decided to Google certain phrases and sentences.
The results were...interesting. Kate was able to find large chunks of text from a few sources that seemed to have been inserted into Shadow Bear with little to no modification, mostly from Land of the Spotted Eagle by Luther Standing Bear and, I shit you not, an article about black-footed ferrets from the Defenders of Wildlife.
Yes. Ferrets.
After we’d picked ourselves up from the floor (seriously: ferrets! Hee!), and since we’re suckers for punishment, Kate and I promptly ran to Powell’s to obtain more Edwards novels and spent pretty much all of Saturday afternoon and evening combing through four novels to see if we could find any more Eerie Similarities. No, we didn’t have anything better to do with ourselves. Yes, our dorkery and geekiness are legion. Yes, we’re masochistic fools. (Four Cassie Edwards novels in less than 12 hours! FOUR! Aieeee.)
Presented below are the results of our compare-n-contrast exercise--identical information has been sent to Penguin Group and Dorchester Publishing, and if they make any sort of public statement, we’ll let you know. Keep in mind, we found all this out with minimal effort. Kate and I didn’t bother to hit the libraries; we mostly depended on the Grace of Google to shower its bounty upon us.
And to all the legal-type people for Companies What Publish Books and the Legal Counsel of a Certain Author of Native American Romances who may be taking an interest in this here particular page: please note that we’re not making accusations of any sort. We’re merely providing evidence of Startling and Eerie Similarities between these Cassie Edwards novels and certain texts published prior to the Edwards books.
Et naturellement, all excerpts are quoted under fair use provisions of United States copyright law. All text in the table below = transcribed verbatim from the sources with full attribution and links to the source material; however, the occasional typo may have snuck in here and there, for which we apologize in advance.
| Shadow Bear by Cassie Edwards (2007, ISBN 978-0-451-22174-2, Signet) |
Other Materials |
| "In my vision, I also saw the fields of sunflowers that are beloved by our Lakota people all scorched, the flowers no longer able to reach their faces toward the sun. I saw buffalo trapped amid flames."
She paused, swallowed hard, then said, “The sunflower and buffalo are two beloved symbols of our Lakota people. The sun is essential to all health and life. In spring, summer, and winter, rays are welcome. In the spring, its warmth brings forth new grass; in summer its heat cures the skins, dries the meat, and preserves food for storage. The buffalo are all and everything to the existence of the Lakota.”
p. 6-7 |
So the sunflower and the buffalo were two beloved symbols of the Lakota. So first, last, and throughout existence, the Lakota knew that the sun was essential to health and to all life. In spring, summer, and winter its rays were welcome. In the spring its warmth brought forth new grass; in the summer its heat cured the skins, dried the meat, and preserved food for storage, and in the winter the Lakotas bathed their bodies in the sunshine, stripping themselves just as they did to bathe in the streams.
Standing Bear, Luther. Land of the Spotted Eagle. 2006
p.49 |
| He rode from the village, a sadness grabbing at his heart. After a while he saw several buffalo wandering through a field of sunflowers, lolling their heads as they walked. Loving the sunflowers so much, some of the animals had uprooted the plants and had wound them about their necks, letting sprays dangle from their horns.
p. 10-11 |
And strange it is, but the buffalo loved the simple and odorless sunflower just as did the Lakota. These great beasts wandered through the sunflower fields, wallowing their heads among them. Sometimes they uprooted the plants and wound them about their necks, letting sprays dangle from their left horns.
Id., p. 49 |
| She knew now that meat was the main article of food for the Lakota. It was their staff of life and eaten at all meals.
p. 148 |
Meat was the main article of food, the staff of life, eaten at all meals and in all seasons.
Id., p. 53 |
| Soup was their universal dish. She had enjoyed all the varieties of meat, corn, and even squash as big as the paunch of a buffalo, all very sweet from the hot ashes of the fire.
p. 148 |
Whether meat was fresh or dry, it was usually boiled, for soup was the universal dish of the Lakota, being liked by young, middle-aged, and old.
Id., p. 54 |
| Shiona had watched as the intestines of a buffalo that one warrior had chanced to find were thoroughly cleaned by his wife, looped over the end of a stick and roasted to a crispy brown over the hot outdoor fire. Another woman had made her meat more enticing, their strips having been braided and looped in a chain stitch before putting it in the flames of the fire for roasting.
p. 147-48 |
The intestines of the buffalo were thoroughly cleaned, looped over the end of a stick, and roasted to a crispy brown over a hot coal fire, or again, as if to make this good dish more enticing, the strips were braided or looped in chain-stitch before putting over the fire.
Id., p. 54 |
| Shiona had grimaced at learning that the brains of animals were used to thicken soup, and that tripe, either boiled or roasted, was a favorite dish.
p. 148 |
Brains were used to thicken the soup, and tripe, either boiled or roasted, was a favorite dish.
Id., p. 54 |
| This was the most welcome season of the year... their fruit season.
Chokeberries, grapes, plums, currants, strawberries, and gooseberries grew plentiful in the woods and alongside the river and streams.
One of the first fruits to ripen was the wazusteca, strawberries.
Then the wild plums would ripen and fall to the ground. The women would gather them, dry them, and put them in storage for winter food.
Later, in the fall, after the first frost, the fruit of the wild rose would turn red and make a delicious food, sweet raw or cooked.
p. 8 |
The most welcome season of the year was the fruit season when the chokeberry, grape, plum, currant, strawberry and gooseberry all grew plentifully in the woods along the streams. We feasted on these delicious fruits, sharing them with the bears, raccoons, muskrats, and beavers. The coyote even ate the wild plums that ripened and fell to the ground. The women gathered these fruits and dried them, putting them in storage for winter food. One of the first fruits of the year to ripen was the wazusteca, or strawberry, while very soon after came the wild currant… The fruit of the wild rose, which turned red in the late fall after the first frost, made a delicious food. It was very sweet either raw or cooked.
Id., p. 59 |
| "You do have much to learn, but not all sexually," Shadow Bear said. He reached for one of her hands as the fire burned softly in the fire pit. "As one of my people, you will learn that every day begins with a salute to the sun, and as a bringer of light, it is recognized whether its face is visible or whether it is hidden by a clouded sky."
p. 198-199 |
Every day for the Lakota began with a salute to the sun, and as a bringer of light, it was recognized, whether its face was visible or whether it was hidden by a clouded sky.
Id., p. 47 |
| "That is because there is no kneeling, nor words spoken, nor hands raised, but in every Lakota heart there is just a thought of tribute," Shadow Bear proudly explained.
He turned to her so that their eyes met. "You will learn that no assembly of our people is required for that tribute, either. Each and every person, on his own account, holds his own moment of worship."
p. 199 |
There was no kneeling, no words were spoken, and no hands were raised, but in every heart was just a thought of a tribute. No assembly ceremonies were held in the morning, each and every person on his own account holding his moment of worship.
Id., p. 47 |
| He nodded toward the closed entrance flap. "Outside, you will notice that further recognition is given the sun by the erection of the Lakota village with every tepee door facing the east," he said.
p. 199 |
Further recognition was given the sun by the erection of the villages with every tipi door facing the east.
Id., p. 47 |
| "The arrows used to wound my brother and that took your loved ones from you were not made from this shrub. Our Lakota hunting arrows are made with its three feathers and finished with the down that comes from under the tail feathers of a bird."
He drew his hand from her. "The two red wavering lines, the symbol of lightning, are always painted from the feathered end and halfway to the arrow tip."
p. 213
"The arrow I described is mainly used for hunting. That is the reason the arrow is grooved to the tip. That allows the blood to flow free from the body of the downed animal, thereby humanely hastening death."
p.215 |
The best specimen of Lakota hunting arrow had three feathers finished with a fluff of down that came from under the tail feathers of the bird. Two red wavering lines, the symbol of lightning, were painted from the feathered end halfway to the arrow tip, but grooved the rest of the way to the tip so as to allow the blood to flow freely from the body of the animal, thereby hastening death.
Id., p. 20 |
| "A bright painted lodge, fine blankets, stacks of beadwork and plush robes and food speak of good living," he said, taking her by an elbow, ushering her inside the tepee. "This is all yours."
p. 202 |
“And to those from the southern camps, the new, bright-painted lodges, the many good bows and guns, the fine blankets, and the stacks of beadwork in almost every lodge spoke of good living.”
Sandoz, Mari. Crazy Horse: Strange Man of the Oglalas. 2004
p. 128 |
| "In their own way, they are a peaceful enough animal," Shadow Bear said... "They are so named because of their dark legs."
"They are so small, surely weighing only about two pounds and measuring two feet from tip to tail," Shiona said. "While alone in my father's study one day, after seeing a family of ferrets from afar in the nearby woods, I took one of my father's books from his library and read up on them. They were an interesting study. I discovered they are related to minks and otters. It is said that their closest relations are European ferrets and Siberian polecats. Researchers theorize that polecats crossed the land bridge that once linked Siberia and Alaska, to establish the New World population." p. 220
|
"Black-footed ferrets, so-named because of their dark legs, weigh about two pounds and measure two feet from tip to tail. Related to mink and otters, they are North America's only native ferret (and a different species than the ferrets kept as pets). Their closest relatives are European ferrets and Siberian polecats. Researchers theorize polecats crossed the land bridge that once linked Siberia and Alaska to establish the New World population."
Tolme, Paul. "Toughing it Out in the Badlands," Defenders Magazine, Summer 2005.
|
| "What I have observed of them, myself, is that these tiny animals breed in early spring when the males roam the night in search of females," Shadow Bear said, watching as the last of the ferrets bounded off and disappeared amid the bushes away from where they had first been spotted. "Mothers typically give birth to three kits in early summer and raise their young alone in abandoned prairie dog burrows."
p. 220-221 |
"The animals breed in March and April, when males roam the night in search of females. Mothers typically give birth to three kits in June, and raise their young alone in abandoned prairie dog burrows."
Id. |
| "I read that ferrets stalk and kill prairie dogs during the night. Using their keen sense of smell and whiskers to guide them through pitch-black burrows, ferrets suffocate the sleeping prey, an impressive feat considering the two species are about the same weight," Shiona said, shivering at the thought, for to her one animal was as cute and precious as the next. It was a shame that any had to die to sustain the other.
p. 221 |
"Ferrets stalk and kill prairie dogs during the night. Using their keen sense of smell and whiskers to guide them through pitch-black burrows, ferrets clamp a suffocation bite on their sleeping prey -- an impressive feat, considering that the two species are about the same weight."
Id. |
| "In turn, coyotes, badgers, and owls prey on ferrets, whose life span in the wild is often less than two winters," Shadow Bear explained. "They have a short, quick life."
p. 221 |
Coyotes, badgers and owls in turn prey on ferrets, whose lifespan in the wild is often less than two years. "It's a tough and quick life," Livieri says.
Id.
|
by SB Sarah • Saturday, January 05, 2008 at 10:07 AM
Bitchery reader JennK has a description that is so detailed, I’ll be shocked if no one guesses this in one try:
A sweet little old lady volunteer gave me these while I was hopped up on pain meds after having my appendix out, and I’d like to find them again, especially the unread rest of the series. They were older - early to mid-90’s, I believe - and part of a contemp. series with angels as the heroes.
One of the books had a dead lawyer who returns in a different body to protect his wife. He knows who he was, she doesn’t, but she notices certain mannerisms, etc., and finally puts it together when he says some legal phrase that her dead hubby always used.
The second one has a nurse for a heroine, and at the end the angel, named Sam, has to face the music for breaking the rules and the heroine isn’t ever going to see him again. Boo...sob! But then she goes to work and there’s this guy in a coma who wakes up and - wheee! - it’s the angel, given a 2nd chance on earth.
The third is even more murky. All I remember is it had a kid angel (Ariel, Asriel, A-something-el) who had to get the non-angel hero and heroine together and possibly ends up adopted by them.
The only other clue I have is that the series name was a street number and name, possibly the address of their “protection” agency.
by Candy • Friday, January 04, 2008 at 07:59 PM
Our Grade:
Title: Virgin Slave, Barbarian King
Author: Louise Allen
Publication Info: Harlequin Historical 2007, ISBN: 0373294778
Genre: Historical: European
Blame it on Bindel, man, blame it on Bindel. When she claimed in a Guardian On-Line article that romance novels represented “misogynistic hate speech” and cited various romance novel titles and back cover copy as proof, the heat, as they say in Kitchen Stadium, was on. Assorted people agreed to review the book as part of an examination of whether Bindel’s accusations had any bite, and we Smart Bitches joined in, of course. The good folks of Teach Me Tonight (is it wrong of me that I want to dub them The Professor Sisters (and one Professor Brother) and wish they’d make weird animated Internet videos about pop culture studies?) have amassed a pretty comprehensive round-up of links for all the commentary and reviews on Virgin Slave, Barbarian King.
Sarah posted her review earlier today, and I’ll say she’s spot-on about most of the issues that bugged me, so I won’t go into detail about them here. The amazing speed with which the conflicts are resolved (the heroine falls in love with the hero, I shit you not, about three days after he kidnaps her and makes her his slave), the anachronisms, the annoying heroine… They made for a book that was simultaneously irritating and boring.
There were, however, several other things about this book that struck me as worthy of dissection and discussion that Sarah didn’t cover in her review.
The hero, for one. He is a species of romance novel hero who is as far away from compelling for me as it gets without actively inciting revulsion. He’s the bestest warrior in all the land. He’s supernaturally patient with the heroine and her spunky shenanigans. He won’t tolerate the mistreatment of women. He’s loyal to his king. He’s a good Christian and won’t tolerate the destruction of churches. Children love him. Animals adore him. He’s so perfect, I wouldn’t be surprised if cartoon bluebirds fly about and twitter musically every time he takes a crap. He is, in short, a Gary Sue. I hesitate to use the term “politically correct” as any sort of pejorative in a serious sense, because all too often I’ve seen it being used by assholes who want to spout something sexist or racist while attempting to couch their opinion as unpopular but universal truth, but here I am saying this anyway: Wulfric is a politically correct hero, and hot damn, does that ever make him tiresome.
On one hand, I really appreciate the move away from asshole rapist heroes in the genre. I really, really do. If I had to choose between a violent assmunch like the hero in The Flame and the Flower or a paragon of all things virtuous like Wulfric, I’d still pick Wulfric, tiresome though he is. On the other hand, he’s not a human so much as he is a Ken Doll, except instead of plastic, he’s molded from untempered wish fulfillment. This Plastic Perfect Guy quality to Wulfric makes Bindel’s mention of Virgin Slave, Barbarian King in the article in The Guardian rather ironic; her accusation that this book is one of the examples of “misogynistic hate speech” is completely defused by the fact that the book opens with the hero saving the heroine from being raped. (Sarah Frantz noticed this, too.)
The Gary Suism is merely a symptom of the fact that the book attempts to play with the idea that the so-called barbarians aren’t the truly barbarous ones, and that the civilized world is often uncivil. This is worthy territory to explore; alas, that’s been covered many times before by many different authors, most of them writing execrable Indian romances, and Allen doesn’t provide anything new or meaty to ponder. In fact, her portrayals of the Visigoths vs. the Romans create caricatures worthy of old-school Westerns in terms of which group we’re clearly supposed to root for and which ones we’re supposed to boo. What I did find interesting, however, is how the Race to be Resuscitated in this particular instance is tall, blond and Germanic. The rather condescending “but they’re real people, REALLY” tone is usually applied to Native Americans and sundry non-whites, especially in Romancelandia. That inversion in race and racial expectations was somewhat interesting, and God knows there was a lot of potential for stuff that, if not comprehensive in scope, at least feels emotionally real, but the cultural differences and attitudes aren’t so much skimmed over in this novel as flown over at the height of several thousand feet; you can see a sea of interesting issues waiting to be plumbed, but all you can do is wave to its pretty contours from the double-paned window as the story whooshes by at high speed.
And as an auxiliary consequence of the facile treatment of the culture, you get what I have dubbed the People in Renn Faire Drag effect: the characters are essentially modern people in costume. I realize that there are real difficulties in creating convincing characters from a distant era; so much of our conception of acceptable behavior has changed over the past 1600 years that it can be hard to create characters who are both sympathetic to our modern sensibilities while remaining authentic to their era in history. I don’t expect--or want--complete authenticity. I do expect, however, that the characters will not engage in musings that smack of modern psychoanalysis, philosophical conceptions of self and freedom that were first popularized during the Enlightenment, or 20th-century embracements of pluralism and multi-culturalism. (As a side note: This book, besides being irritatingly modern in tone, also had a hilarious habit of self-consciously pointing out that the characters had been lost in thought for a long time; the hero or heroine are forever starting themselves out of reveries. Authors, please don’t do this. It interrupts the flow of the story, and it makes your characters look retarded.)
Some authors have successfully written book set in Ancient Rome that featured characters that, if not necessarily 100% authentic to the times (and I’d argue that there’s really no way for us to ascertain that, given our distressing lack of time machines), are still convincing for works of popular fiction. Rosemary Sutcliff is, in my opinion, the queen of the Historical Novel Set in Ancient Times. I’m somewhat hard-pressed to put my finger on what she does that convinces me that her characters are true to their times, but part of it is how none of them display the hallmarks of what I think of as modern thinking (such as attempts to engage in what amounts to talk therapy), even though we are privy to their rich, complex internal lives.
Strangely enough, Allen gets a lot of the historical trappings right; she seems to have done a decent amount of research into the setting of the times, and she’s convincing enough that I don’t feel the need to fact-check her. But this, coupled with the anachronistic attitudes of the characters, intensifies the feeling that they’re actors in costume on a well-designed soundstage.
This isn’t necessarily a dealbreaker for me. Mary Jo Putney is absolutely terrible when it comes to writing modern characters into historical romances. However, she’s also very good at making them flawed, detailed and interesting, and when she’s at her best, I don’t care that her characters are in Renn Faire drag. This book doesn’t even come close.
All that being said, however, the book really isn’t all that bad. It’s boring, it’s trite, it’s facile--but the prose is competent, and the characters likeable enough. It didn’t piss me off with its awfulness, which is when books start falling into the D- and F category, and while I don’t find it quite as repulsive as, say, Dark Lover by J.R. Ward, it’s also not as compelling. Ultimately, I have to agree with Sarah’s grade: it’s a D. It’s a passing grade, but barely.
by SB Sarah • Friday, January 04, 2008 at 11:28 AM
Thanks to Michelle Styles: a report that Mills & Boon has opened an office in Mumbai, India, and has big plans: they promise “Indian settings and characters in the romances published from now on.”
I admit, I raised a brow at the NASCAR HQs, and at targeted attempts to market romance to a specific groups, but India? That’s a brilliant idea - most of Bollywood’s film production involves a star-crossed romance of one type or another, with intrigue, family machinations, or similar conflicts. According to Michelle, remaindered books have been selling in India for years, but now there will be new books set and featuring Indian characters. I hope some make it across to the US.
by SB Sarah • Friday, January 04, 2008 at 08:01 AM
Thanks to Bitchery reader Delia, I nearly asphyxiated myself laughing. And before I tell you why, I have to confess something so shameful it’s going to set my face on fire with embarrassment.
Remember that show Beauty and the Beast with Linda Hamilton and Ron Perlman as Vincent? He lived beneath Manhattan in a community of people living in the tunnels, and there love was all hairy and forbidden? Yeah, that. I was a huge fan. HUGE. I’ve probably mentioned that before. That’s not the embarrassing part - at least there I know I’m not alone.
I had the cassette tape of Ron Perlman as Vincent, complete with his kitty-teeth, reading poetry. Lots of poetry. The Beauty & the Beast
soundtrack tape was probably worn thin by the time I was done listening to it, because I listened to that thing ALL THE TIME. The slightly lisping fang-tastic reading of “She Walks in Beauty” or “I Arise From The Dreams Of Thee”? Oh, it sent my little 12 year-old heart a fluttering like nothing else.
We will not discussed how filled with squee I am to learn that all three seasons are available on DVD. No, not mentioning that. *ahem*
So: hairy Vincent man reading poetry? Teh Awesome.
Fabio After Dark? Fabio telling me he LOOOOOOHVES to be alone with me? Because music can say what he cannot?
OMG CREEPING ME THE FUCK OUT. Thanks to Delia, we can all share in the WTF-tasticness that is Fabio’s romance album, featuring Billy Ocean (Hey! You! Get into my car!) and other fine musical stylings that are designed to be the height of romance. You must listen to each and every one of the audio samples, because they are comic freaking GOLD.
To quote the i-mockery site: “It’s like he has you all to himself, and just when he has you at the height of ecstasy, he puts your mom on the speaker phone.” The unintentional hilarity is killing me.
And the funky porn-tastic music behind his drawling monologue? Coupled with, “I’m Fabio. And I’m very interested in what makes romance work.”
Fabby, honey, I can promise you, it’s not that music.
The only thing better would be if I can find an online capture of Fabio’s movie, but I just bought it used, so I’ll make Hubby watch it with me. Stay tuned for the sounds of screaming.
by SB Sarah • Friday, January 04, 2008 at 12:20 AM
Our Grade:
Title: Virgin Slave, Barbarian King
Author: Louise Allen
Publication Info: Harlequin Historical 2007, ISBN: 0373294778
Genre: Historical: Other
I was most delighted when I got the email from the Teach Me Tonight Professors Brilliant asking if I’d review Virgin Slave, Barbarian King, because after the Bindel article wherein she held up this book as an example of the horrors of mysogynistic hate speech contained within the genre, I thought, HOT DAMN. A book about a Roman maiden kidnapped by a Visigoth? BOO YAH. HERE be a chance for an author to take that old accusation of romance=misogyny and say, “Look! A woman in a patriarchal ‘civilized society’ is going to be kidnapped by “barbarians,” and be forced to not only confront her own attraction to her captor but the empowered role of women in a society she dismissed as being uncivilized! She has more freedom as a slave than as a Roman virgin! See? It says so on the back cover copy! Here is a big hopping chance to prove how the titles of these novels do not represent the contents, and what can be dismissed as mere drivel is actually a subversive avenue of presenting gender roles and expectations of women within ancient societies so as to facilitate consideration on the part of the reader regarding how women are treated in modern society!”
Unfortunately, after reading the book itself, my reaction to my own aspirations is thus: “Wishful thinking much?” You can certainly smell what my disappointment is cooking.
Is it fair that I judge the book based on what I thought it could have been, simply because it was picked out by someone bashing it for its title and making assumptions as to its content? Of course not. Certainly Bindel’s accusations heightened my anticipation that this might be a smarter romance that operated on deeper levels and did more than mere storytelling, but it’s not fair for me to penalize the book because I was hoping it would do more than it did.
But the opportunity which was present for examination of culture on the part of a heroine who is removed from one and moved forcibly into another was seriously underdeveloped and weak, leaving me underwhelmed and not at all as engaged as I might have liked by the book. I finished the book deflated and disappointed that a premise that could have yielded so much was flat, predictable, and ultimately a big yawn.
By far the biggest disappointment was the heroine. Julia Livia is kidnapped by Wulfric just as she is about to be raped by two Roman men during the Visigoth’s sack of Rome. The two men, hoping their crime won’t be noticed, kill Julia’s servant and are about to assault her when Wulfric cracks open the Romance Hero Can of Whoopass , takes care of their lousy selves, and rides off with Julia. He needs a home slave and decides this woman he’s just saved from assault is the one for his hearth and home, nevermind her incredulous protests to the contrary.
As Julia is riding out of Rome behind Wulfric’s teenage apprentice/cousin, she makes a stunning realization of the inequality within her own culture—before she’s even out the gate as a kidnapped war prize.
Is that what I am? His enemy? What have I done to him to deserve this?
One of the groups of slaves trudged past and she looked down at them, seeing for the first time what a mixture they were, the people who made life in the Empire run with the smooth efficiency of a water clock.... What have they done to deserve it? These barbarians have learned from us and now we reap what we sow.
That would be page 26. Enlightenment on the back of a horse, take one!
Julia moved into global understanding of the flaws of her own society with such ease, I was hoping next she’d set up the first Visigoth soup kitchen. And speaking of kitchen! She learns to cook savory-smelling tummy-happy food that satisfies Visigoth warriors like Hungry Man Meals from Swanson satisfy your favorite lumberjack, and all in a matter of days. Does she suffer from culture shock? Does she attempt to preserve her own culture in midst of Visigoth nomadic wagon-life? Any prejudice against their group for their rustic, nomadic lifestyle consisting of tents and wagons and farm animals without a bathhouse or shower to be found?
Nope. She blends in and gets comfy immediately, and has no problem learning the ropes of cooking, mending, and generally being handy with knives within mere days. The apprentice is half in love with her,Wulfric tries to resist her, and with the exception of some hot girl-on-girl fighting with her man’s aspiring fiancee, everyone looooves her. She’s pure and noble and cute, too.
Julia so easily embraces the increased power she has within her new community, she longs to stay even when she knows plans are being made for her return to Rome. It’s not Stockholm Syndrome. It’s effortless integration. I hate to make the comparison, because this book was poor but a significant jump away from the Cassie Edwards F Line, but Julia’s ease of adjustment reminded me of Savage Moon where Mishi blithely became a Shoshone with absolutely no backstory detailing her adjustment.
Another oddity I wasn’t sure how to reconcile is the use of words in the ruminations of the characters that were far, far too modern. At one point Wulfric is having a bath, and massages a sore leg: “trying to give proper attention to the condition of his muscles and the feel of the tendon he had strained two weeks before.” “Tendon?” Would there be such anatomical knowledge? The Online Etymology Dictionary lists a usage dating back to 1374 but not to the sack of Rome.
Later, as Wulfric rides to sack another Roman town, she is told to “get the medical kit out.” “Medical kit?” Seriously?
Speaking of Wulfric, he’s rather delicious, but still, his long-haired hotness and effortless leadership skills are still subject to lines of dialogue that are too pat and too perfect. Wulfric’s tribe of Visigoths sacked Rome because the Roman emperor repeatedly promised them land of their own, and did not honor his promise. The Visigoths value their word and their honor is a very plain and simple thing: you say you will do something, then you will do it.
But after conversations with Julia, Wulfric suddenly realizes and understand her culture, that the Romans act within honor as they define it:
“...The public face is what matters, what goes on behind the scenes --” [Julia] shrugged. “The ends justify the means, I suppose. But for you, and for your people, I do not think there is that separation—you are the same at your own hearth and at the king’s Council, making love or making war.... I am only just realising that. Forgive me.”
“No, forgive me. I think we should begin again. I thought your people treacherous yet they are acting within their concept of honour.”
HUR? Leaving aside the utter saccharine blooey of “making love or making war,” what the crap is this crap? He’s going to put aside or amend his understanding of honor just because Julia’s people define it differently, using terms that are the opposite of his own definition? I can only rest with a deeply confused look on my face that I hope passersby will mistake for one of profound contemplation.
Oddly, the forces acting against the couple are merely cultural, which of course are easily resolved as each comes to Simple and Truthful Realizations about their own society. The other conflict caused by the imbalance of power - created by the fact that he slung her over the back of his horse and rode away with her during the sack of Rome - is resolved by his decision to return her to Roman society, which would soothe his honor and allow her to return to him on her own terms. There are sizable questions of Wulfric’s kinglyness, or, his ability to inspire people so that they depend on and look to him for guidance and safety, and Wulfric’s role in the Visigoth tribe after the death of their current king, but all of those issues are resolved without Julia’s presence, and therefore are told, now shown. Much is made of Wulfric’s natural leadership and inspiring qualities, yet little comes of that buildup of tension.
Beyond the cultural differences, which are easily mended with the Superglue of effortless assimilation and blithe acceptance, there is no villain, no issue to be overcome except that of choice and geography. Would Julia choose to be with him if she had the option to select her mate? And where would they go since she’s damaged goods as far as the Romans are concerned, and a slave to the Visigoths? These questions aren’t really answered so much as assumed to be solved, and as a result I didn’t feel there was a truly believable happy ending.
But really, the lack of struggle to accept a completely different culture on the part of both protagonists - Julia’s ease of integration into the Visigoth community and Wulfric’s easy conquest of Julia’s Roman habits and expectations - made for a limp and tensionless storyline. Thus I was yawning, not reading, and had little to no reaction when I was done.
The Professors Brillliant have many links to other reviews of this book, and Dr. Frantz’s analysis of the concept of honor within the novel, and Dr. Vivanco’s examination of the mythologies referenced in the story are particularly fine reading. And today Dear Author’s dueling reviews will feature Jane and Jayne battling it out over their own impressions of the novel.
by SB Sarah • Thursday, January 03, 2008 at 10:02 AM
Bitchery Exchange Student Mads is an Aussie in France, and she needs le help! She is looking to build a reading list of bodice-rippingly-good saga romances for her reading pleasure.
Recently I got the opportunity to become and exchange student in France- and voila, here I am. I’ve been in France for six weeks now and despite the freezing, disgusting weather (I’m Australian; this is my idea of hell. Well, this and that Hoff strippy, trippy thing you posted) I’m really enjoying France. But I have an incredibly obvious problem: A lack of books. I tore through the Quinn and Kleypas I brought with me and I’ve been indulging in ebooks since.
Here is my question. My anecdote wasn’t long and rambley without reason- I need Smart Bitch help.
I would really love to read some epic romance. I’m sick of regency, my usual romance fodder, and I’d love to try something with a bit more kick. I’m open to paranormal but my true love is always going to be historical. I’ve been thinking about the long and rather terrible epic sagas of the 80’s like Jane Feather and other authors.
I was just wondering if the very capable bitchery could help me out: I have far too much time on my hands with nothing to do but drink Chocolat Chaud and enjoy the French hotties (Quel Horreur!) and I’m in serious need of very long romance novels, preferably with a good plot line in addition to being a bodice ripper.
Well, I’ll leave this in your capable hands.
First, you might like Almost French: Love and a New Life in Paris
about an Aussie lady who marries a Parisian man and learns to cross naturally exuberant Australian friendliness with French culture. It’s hilariously awesome.
But saga romances? I confess I am a complete sucker for one of the first romances I’ve ever read: Blaze Wyndham
. It may not be in print or easy to find, but it’s bodice-rippery and saga-licious like damn and what. What’s your pick?
by SB Sarah • Thursday, January 03, 2008 at 08:46 AM
From today’s “Publisher’s Lunch” ("Published Daily. Except When Not.” HA.):
Children’s book author Jon Scieszka has been named our first national ambassador for young people’s literature by the librarian of Congress, James Billington. The post does not come with specific responsibilities; rather, Scieszka is expected to act as “an evangelist for reading.”
An evangelist for reading, eh? Can we have an evangelist for reading Romance? Please? I’ll do it! I’ll cast out the spirit of evil wooden dialogue and virgin widows, and bring the light of fluid prose and spicy sexual attraction to all readers and writers! And I’ll wear a really, REALLY hot pants suit while I do it? On stage?
According to the Church of Christ OldPath.com archive, “Public scripture reading is an important part of the work of an evangelist.” Well, then. I’m down. I’ll take my Count’s Blackmail Bargain out to the street - it’s 15F and feels like 3F so I better get points for braving frostbite in the name of Mantitty - and read aloud with great dramatic flair. Anyone want to meet me in Central Park at 12:30 pm? One of the characters smotes his chest, so this is perfect reading!
Anyone? Anyone? Can I get a “Amen?”
by SB Sarah • Wednesday, January 02, 2008 at 09:40 AM
Bitc
