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

Sarah:  Ah, yes, the historical version of “Before He Cheats.” Instead of digging a car key into the door of a pretty souped-up four-wheel drive, she’s going to put his head through his own lute because he got way, WAY too merry with his band of merry men.

Candy:: He thinks she’s paralyzed with desire; she’s just hoping that this George Hamilton wannabe’s sunless bronzer doesn’t rub off on her skin or her clothing.

Sarah: Nothing says ‘Historical romance’ like a poly-cotton nightgown from JC Penneys, circa 1982.

Candy: He looks mildly brain-damaged. She looks like a Real Doll. It’s a match made in heaven!

Sarah: There had so better be a disclaimer at the back of that book stating that no horses were harmed in the creation of the cover art, because it looks like they’re dropping to the earth from about 30,000 feet up and the horse is the only one who has recognized their imminent landing.

Candy: I’ve talked before about the bizarre physics at work in romance novels and how it affects hair. This one just straight-up confounds me. Unless the guy is a humanoid Van de Graaf generator, I’m at a loss to explain the heroine’s hair. (The hero’s hair--and appearance in general--can pretty much be explained by an inordinate love of man-sauce, I think.)

Sarah: There were some gawdawful covers last year. I can think of a few that turned my stomach to an even deeper yogic twist than some of these, but I have to say, as a slate of terrible, this slate is pretty good. Not great - there were plenty that were much, much worse - but on the whole, not bad for badness. I didn’t upload every single one, since some of them weren’t really poor enough to be among the worst. So here’s our slate.

Candy: I’ve seen worse, to be honest, and I have mixed feelings about that. On one hand: it really does seem like publishers are finally learning and moving away from the fug. Some of the Worst Cover nominees from 2006 and 2005, for example, I actually liked--but then I dig the comic book look and don’t find comics embarrassing the way some of the commentators apparently do. On the other hand: I derive a certain measure of delicious masochistic pain from the terrible covers, and lots of belly laughs from the ensuing commentary in the contest. Less fug = less fun. The genre wins, but my selfish side wants the cheap laugh, goddammit.

That said: There are still quite a few gems from this particular batch.

Also: when you’re done looking at the snark, head over to Cover Cafe and cast your vote.

Candy: So THIS is what it looks like when Cousin Itt gets a trim and tries to fuck a tribble! Hawt!

Sarah: Nothing says “oh yeah” like necking in the fiery depths of the earth’s core while feeling your skin slowly melt from your body. Hawt indeed!

Candy: Great. You know Cinemax is starting to run low on ideas when they start resorting to “When PR Interns Go Wild” for the late night softcore offerings.

Sarah: The car! The car is tilting at a not-even-closer-to-horizontal dizzying angle and they’re about to roll off the cliff into a fiery oblivion! Wait, apparently they’ve identified the problem and are going out with a bang. You’d think they’d hurry up and get themselves horizontal already.

Candy: Holy shit! My first thought: Post-op tranny love. And goddamn, that sister wasn’t shy about specifying exactly how big she wanted her bazooms to be.

Sarah: We’re moments away from knowing all there is to know about The Crying Game, with bonus DVD features, like this instructional shot that demonstrates how to grab one’s falsie like Wilson Phillips and hold on.

Candy: We’ve snarked this cover in the past, and I want to reiterate: Come on, Kensington. FOR SHAME. If you advertise big, spankable asses, we want big, spankable asses. We want thunderclap-worthy asses. (Warning: video mildly not-work-safe.) That ass? Not even worthy of a static shock.

Sarah: Not big. Not spankable. Not even close. And if the problem is with the title and not so much the cover image, then I expect “Baby of Shame” to make next year’s slate. 

Candy: Oh my God. Between the contrast of the unnaturally perky, clean-cut blonde chick being groped by Gomez Addams’ creepy younger brother (I get the impression he sells used Kias for a living) and the looming house in the background, it’s like Amityville Horror meets the Osmonds.

Make the screaming in my head stop, mommy. Please?

Sarah: Apparently, after the wedding, someone went on a meth bender while operating Photoshop without a license, and this was the result. A bonafide disaster.

Candy: You know, other than the fact that that’s way more skin than I want on the front cover of my book, there’s nothing too horribly wrong with this cover. It’s soft-focus softcore cheesy, and I can practically hear the smooth jazz playing in the background and breathy moans as I look at this, but compared to the other covers, my sensibilities haven’t been ripped out, ripped into shreds, danced upon with three-inch stiletto heels and set on fire.

Sarah: Nothing says, “This book has sex in it” like two people on the cover having sex. Thank you to this book for making it that much more difficult for me to defend accusations that romance = porn.

Especially with the jizztastic explosion of water going on behind her, there. If he orgasms that forcefully in real life, well, no wonder he has to hold onto her by the longhairs. She probably doesn’t have any short ones.

Candy: Touch of Madness? Well, yes, I believe necrophilia is typically a sign of SOME sort of pathology--especially when you start going for the ones who are starting to rot.

Sarah: I can hear the book trailer now: He’s creepy and he’s cooked -EEE!. She’s zombified and ookey. This sure don’t look like nookie. Clamp and Adams, scaring me.

Man, that’s a lot of hair. Hair only Clairol could love. Seriously, why do you think the guy looks so intent? His gaze isn’t on her face or her body. It seems focused somewhere above her left ear. He’s checking her roots, man.

And oh my God! She’s wearing the puffy shirt.

Except her shirt is even more so. Look at those sleeves! They’re practically ready to pop, they’re so full. Did they have air-filled inserts for those things back in the day, or mini-panniers for arms? Is it stuffed with chunks of man-titty, which she cut off as proof of her conquests?

This cover is so deliciously tacky, I kind of expect Chuck Norris to be driving out of his grave in his supercharged pickup truck any fucking minute in the background of this cover.

The new cover: it’s the ubiquitous Horse Freaking the Fuck Out, except in silhouette. Let us ponder the significance of the shadow suspended in all eternity, running away from heroes who consider using cream to lubricate their cocks sufficient foreplay towards a future bright with miles upon miles of Aquanetted hair.

This cover comes from the school of “Let’s pour melted Crisco on everybody, because if there’s anything more attractive than 80s bangs and mullets, it’s greasy 80s bangs and mullets.” It’s also from the “Limbs are confusingly and randomly placed for optimal confusion and resemblance to xenomorphic aliens.” Seriously. Look at the bit of leg jutting out towards the lower left corner of the cover. Then look at the placement of her butt, and then the hump in the cover where her knee presumably is. I can’t make sense of it. It’s positively Escher-like. Does she have six limbs, or is there a corpse under the covers? I can’t tell.

And the image for this cover is...a tree.

A dripping tree. Though I can almost see a face in it. See that dangly bit down the middle? It’s totally an elephant! Mmmm, Rorschach-a-licious.

This is about as innocuous as it gets, and the change in tone and feel between the old and new covers is enough to give me whiplash.

More greasiness! More 80s bangs! More mullets! Except her hair is being blown directly off her face, indicating a wind coming from the ground. Maybe it’s generated by the grass collectively exhaling in exasperation? Maybe she just dropped from the sky directly onto this dude?

What I find hilarious is how tasteful and restrained the new covers are compared to the originals. This one could be plastered on just about anything nautically related, from a biography of Magellan to stories featuring people with names like Hornblower, Ramsbottom and Bracegirdle. There’s absolutely no hint of the copious amounts of sexx0ring and brutish hero antics that lie within the pages. It’s tantamount to false advertising, but them’s the rules: the bestselling authors get tasteful covers, no matter how lurid the contents within; the mid-listers and newbie authors take what they can get and feel grateful they’re not stuck with the Pillsbury Doughboy.

Sarah: The US Dark Lover cover: brilliant in its simplicity. Maybe she’s taking a bite out of his crime, or maybe she’s nuzzling his carotid, but the female position of power, coupled with the sword and the bleak red tones make this a cover done marvelously well.

And then the UK cover: we’re wet and very sleepy. Nothing is scarier or sexier than sodden, soporific swimmers. RUN, or they’re going to yawn at you. Eh. Maybe.

Candy: I do admit that I like the US version quite a bit. The tattoo, the power inversion (the woman is usually in the position of vulnerability on romance novel covers), the red monochrome, the fact that there’s no vampire titty in evidence--très sexy. (Would that there were such a power inversion within the story, but the heroine’s kind of a doormat of a Mary Sue. A doormat who experiences fabulous orgasms, of course.)

The UK version isn’t half bad. It’s somewhat cheesier, mostly because I don’t like the font for Ward’s name, but I like the female model’s sad, contemplative look. I’m not sure why she looks so mopey, though. Perhaps she’s mourning the mangling of “revenge,” “torment,” “sadist” and “fury”? Or grieving for the wanton slaughter of Hs?

Sarah: The US Cover: blue, ethereal, sexy, and somehow manages to make the Adam’s apple rather sultry.

The UK cover: What the crap is this? It could be a vampire novel. It could be a commercial for Cialis. It could be he just saved a bunch of money on his car insurance by switching to Geico. It could be she has no discernible body fat and a complete lack of underarm wattle. But whatever it is, the image composition is limp and ineffective, two words the Brotherhood would be mighty peeved to have applied to them.

Candy: The US Cover: same schtick as Dark Lover, and I still like it, for all the same reasons I like the cover for Dark Lover.

The UK cover: Generic and rather forgettable, but lookit, these are romance novel covers, and my standards are shockingly low. This cover isn’t making my eyeballs burn, and for that, it gets a pass.

Sarah: The US Cover: I confess I like the solid color with the soft focus necking couples better than the greyscale black and white photography, but it’s still pretty darn sultry.

But the UK cover? Not only have I seen that piece of stock photography before, but in terms of the scale of hawt, it’s like tea left on the windowsill all day. Still, it’s marginally better than the rest of the UK set.

Candy: The US Cover: Except for the fact that I want to say ”OM NOM NOM NOM” every time I look at it, it’s OK. It’s starting to verge into generic romance cover with the sharper focus and the male in the biting position and a yuppie haircut.

The UK cover: The models look like they need a bit more food and a bit less working out, but this is true for most commercial models. Again, generic and unoffensive, but not especially memorable.

Sarah: The US Cover: Suntan lotion commercial!

Which goes perfectly with the UK cover, which features a Lands’ End swimsuit models preparing to go wild. Nice bathing suit.

Candy: The US cover transitions nicely into Romance Novel cheese. O-Face? Check. Dude nuzzlin’ on neck? Check. Wind-tossed hair? Check. Sunless bronzer all over this piece, son? Check. They like the sunless bronzer so much, they done poured it alllllll over the cover.

The UK cover, on the other hand, transitions nicely into JC Penney Sunday Coupon Page. Nothing says sexy like a wrinkly strap on a bra only your grandma could love.

Also: poor Ana Gasteyer. Her post-Saturday Night Live tenure has not treated her well.

Sarah: The US Cover: Nicholas Brendon necking a check. Nice.

The UK Cover: Emergency memo to art department!  “Boner” is not the same as “boney.” “Vampire” does not mean he has puncture marks in his own cheeks. “Cystic Acne” does not say romance hero. And we won’t even mention the mullet.

But for the love of Escalade, the hero should not be thinner than the heroine. I’m well aware of the overpopulation of beefcake on the romance cover, but come on now. Too far in the other direction is just as bad. Especially when the Bhrotherhood is each and every one of them as big as a damn house.

Candy: The US cover: I like them so much better when I can’t clearly see the facial features. This guy is cute, but the patchy facial hair? Makes him look like he’s 18 or so, and about as threatening as a cooked noodle. And I’m all about the sweet heroes, really I am, but that’s just not the look that’s representative of the hypertrophied masculinity of the BDB.

The UK cover: Holy shit! That dude looks terrifying.  He makes me think of leeches. Also, the spots on his face look like PLAAAAAGUE. Never have I felt the herpes emanating so strongly from a cover before. Look, when I say I want the male models to look a bit threatening, I didn’t mean “scare me with the possibility of contagious social diseases.”

Sarah: The US Cover is still rocking that sexy ethereal look that I think totally scores.

...while the UK Cover is continuing with the “Lands’ End Swimsuit models go wild” theme, this time featuring Heather Locklear in a nice halter top, possibly faille. Nothing says vampires like swimsuits, apparently. That must make them easy to spot in the UK. Man in a Speedo walking down Edgeware Road? He’s a vampire, looking for the werewolves in London. 

Candy: US cover: Something about the lifeless, mannequin-like look on both models is freaking me out a bit, actually. Again, by romance novel cover standards, this cover ain’t too shabby, but these two in particular fall squarely in the uncanny valley for me.

UK cover: Um, I envy her sports bra? Otherwise, the two of them look about as vigorous as the models in the US cover, though this time it’s because they took too much Xanax before deciding to make out, not because they’re android experiments gone wrong. 

Candy (in an appalling David Attenborough impression): “And here we see the rare Bedsheet Hellbeast consuming its prey. By cleverly simulating high-threadcount linens, this nocturnal beast often sets out lures for the unsuspecting human, often in the form of a member of the opposite sex with over-developed mammaries. The victims’ attempts to escape are futile once they fall into its grasp. Witness the writhings of this particular victim. Her attempts to claw her way out will only entangle her further.”

Sarah: Some heroes shapeshift and turn into wolves. Seals. Lions. Tigers. Lygers. Oh my. But this guy, he shapeshifts into the finest Egyptian cotton bedsheets. Pretty handy when company invades at the last minute. But then, you know the wet spot? He IS the wet spot.

And what is up with her toes? Check out the udder-ly bizarre toes under the “SS” in “Passion.” Perhaps she’s shifting, only instead of bedsheets, she’s a mop.

Candy: “And here we see a close cousin of the Bedsheet Hellbeast, the Wedding Dress Snorcher. Notice how the lure in this instance is coated with a sheen of digestive enzymes. This makes the breaking down of the copious amounts of keratin on this particular prey an easier enterprise.”

Sarah: There’s simply not enough double-leg amputee romance out there. And there’s really not enough double-leg amputee who was the victim of a rogue wedding gown that twisted itself around his thighs, cutting off circulation in a fit of jealous rage.

Candy: “And here we see a juvenile Snorcher in the preliminary stages of acquiring its prey. Notice how it attaches a feeding veil to the head of its victim. This allows it to render its victim unconscious, thereby eliminating the dangers associated with vigorous struggling.”

Sarah: Yet another secret kept by heroines all over RomanceLandia: how to hide the hideously calloused feet. Climbing all those mountains barefoot wearing wedding dresses and ballgowns, it leaves one with soles of leather, rough enough to sand chopped wood into floorboards and thick enough to walk over hot coals, hot water, and the hot oil treatment preferred by this and every hero. It’s a trick, keeping those yellow soles hidden from view. How do they do it? We may never know. 

According to Bitchery reader Elizabeth, Gaia Online members can receive avatars as part of their membership, and then have the option to decorate them with accessories. The monthly collectibles are “rare items you can get only be donating money to the website.”

Elizabeth tells me there’s multiple poses should you wish to indulge in the romance avatar:

...along with poses showing you holding a romance novel, you can give your avatar glistening skin (I shit you NOT), a “romantic breeze” (rose petals"), a “portrait of passion” (an interesting border), a “romantic sunset” background, wild windswept hair, or, the BEST PART: you either get Beresford, a “lusty” regency-era scoundrel with shirt wide open and feathered hair, leaning over your avatar, Fabio-style, or Heloise, a female character with heavy bosoms who kneels at your avatar’s feet and looks up adoringly.

There’s an image that accompanied the newsletter which you can see here (caution: popup), and while it’s not entirely a bad pastiche of romance covers from Days Gone By, there’s a few errors that betray the artist as not a TRUE fan of romance.

Nice nuclear explosion and accompanying phallic lighthouse on the parapet. But no nuclear explosion would be so close to the hero’s posterior, lest the art send a subtle message that Sir Beresford has a bit of a gas problem and a predilection for beans. Further, Beresford’s shirt is unbuttoned AND untucked. Impossible! FOR SHAME GAIA ARTISTS. FOR SHAME.

Then there’s the heroine. She’s bent over backwards, which is good, and she’s wearing a shockingly unnatural shade of pink - also good - but she doesn’t have requisite o-face. She looks...repulsed. Bitter, even. Like she’s looking into the sun while eating sour gummy worms. Her clavicle is about to eat her, if the ruffle doesn’t get her first. And given the position of her back, her hips, and her legs, I’m not sure she has a pelvis. This will make the red hot lovin’ something of a challenge.

I have no idea what to say about the smaller icons pictured on the right, except that the one with the bloody eye patch looks disturbingly merry and is wearing a LOT of eyeliner.

Anyone out there a Gaia member? Which one are you, the dude or the lady?