



by Candy • Monday, October 24, 2005 at 02:26 PM
Our Grade:
Title: Countdown
Author: Ruth Wind
Publication Info: Silhouette 2005, ISBN: 0373513526
Genre: Romantic Suspense

I love Ruth Wind. You should’ve seen me doing the Snoopy Dance when I found out she was returning to writing romance. Well, not that the Silhouette Bombshell line is a conventional romance line, but WOO HOO asskicking babes with strong romantic interests.
But this book? It’s good, don’t get me wrong, and I enjoy how the heroine, Kim Valenti, is actually competent for once, unlike the usual bumbling, wouldn’t-hurt-a-flea morons who litter the landscape of romantic suspense, blowing your mind with another retarded-yet-cutesy antic (like throwing the gun at the bad guy) when you least want or expect it--and when I say “blowing your mind,” I don’t mean in a good way, I mean the way a landmine rips the limbs off another innocent, unsuspecting Cambodian child.
Yeah, secret agent heroines: far too many of them are brain-dead weenies. But that’s a rant Mrs. Giggles has covered in detail. Kim Valenti: NOT a brain-dead weenie, which is good. This chica knows how to get the job done.
But the book still failed to engage me. I put it down again and again, and I never felt any urgency to pick it up again. I didn’t really care what happened to Kim or her OMGHOT boytoy Lex; in fact, I thought it’d be much more interesting to see the bad guys win just to shake it up.
Kim Valenti is a codebreaker for the National Security Agency and a graduate of the l33t-as-fuck Athena Academy, which, from what I gathered in the book, is an Academy for Budding Superwomen, complete with its own shadowy intelligence branch and assorted sources of classified information. Kim is trying to trying to crack encrypted e-mails from some Middle Eastern terrorists, and thanks to some leads from the academy, she’s finally figured out the target: a location in Chicago. Unfortunately, she can’t find anybody who will listen to her, not even the hot shot bomb squad agent who helped her with a previous case, a hot piece of ass named Lex Tanner.
So acting on a hunch, she goes to a television station in Chicago, only to get trapped in a Very Sticky Situation: the station is overrun by terrorists and all the staff within held hostage. To complicate things, Kim finds out that the primary target isn’t the station. The station is a distraction, a red herring. The terrorists are after much bigger game than a mere TV station.
So being the good little l33t-as-fuck agent that she is, Kim kicks, punches, claws and leaps her way out of the station and heads over to FBI headquarters to kidnap herself a fine piece of bomb squad ass to help her defuse the bomb.
More asskicking ensues, and Kim and Lex save the day. But alas and alack, the two terrorists responsible for masterminding the attack manage to escape from the TV station, so that means more shenanigans abound before Kim and Lex have to put away their chaussures pour donner des coups de pied sur les derrieres.
There are a lot of things I like about the two main characters. Kim, like I said before, is supremely competent at her job. When I say she kicks ass, I mean it: SHE KICKS FUCKING ASS. And she gets her shit tore up by the bad guys, too--she’s good, but she’s not invincible. The sight of a heroine who is capable of doing all this without being missish or squeamish or nice about the whole thing is refreshing, especially in Romancelandia, where the female population is often distressingly dim and helpless. Kim is also commitment-shy and unabashed about enjoying sex for its own sake in a fairly realistic way, which, again, is distressingly rare in Romancelandia and its surfeit of frigid, insecure women who dedicate their lives to their work but don’t have two brain cells to rub together (ref. Zachary, Amanda).
But something about her still rings false. Her angst about her dead brother, beheaded by Iraqi insurgents, for example, feels tacked on. The grief doesn’t quite have enough bite to it. It’s hard for me to pinpoint other things about her that struck false notes, but ultimately, I think that much as I liked her, she just wasn’t particularly interesting to me. The entire book immersed me in her point of view, but I closed it feeling no closer to the character than when I’d started.
Lex is also a rather unusual hero. I really like how he isn’t portrayed as conventionally handsome: he’s skinny and he has a big nose. He’s also willing to let Kim do her job, and holy Christ I’m so happy to see a smart, assertive hero not be all shouty-shouty and “HERE LET ME SAVE THE DAY LITTLE GIRL” all over the heroine.
But here’s something interesting I discovered about myself: I couldn’t settle on an ethnicity for Lex, and I found it discomfiting. When Kim compares his lips to Denzel Washington’s and notes his dark skin, I immediately assumed he’s black, and I was all “Woo hoo!” because hot black men are sorely lacking in Romancelandia. Then later on, there are mentions of his piercing blue eyes and Italian roots, which muddled the picture for me, so I started thinking of him as an olive-skinned white dude. And this wrenching change in direction? Bugged me. Here I was with my happy picture of Hot Skinny Black Guy in my head, and now waitminnit, he’s Hot Skinny White Guy? But wait, maybe he’s a black guy with blue eyes, because hey, Vanessa Williams has blue eyes, but gaaah I don’t want to have to switch my mental picture AGAIN.
Yes, I’m shallow. I want to have a clear picture of the hero and his hotness, and I don’t want that picture to change drastically partway. This quirk is mine alone, and no fault of Ruth Wind’s.
The growing emotional ties and sexual tension between Kim and Lex felt almost as tacked on as Kim’s grief for her brother, and as for the sex itself… well, there was a lot of build up to it, but when it finally happened, I didn’t sit back with a happy sigh, I raised my eyebrows and thought “That’s IT? What the hell?” The sexy-sexy in this book: It talked the talk, but it couldn’t walk the walk.
The suspense storyline also didn’t grab me. The suspense wasn’t particularly suspenseful, and thinking back on it, I think part of the problem was the pacing, which, despite the fight scenes, was pretty sedate. There were also very few surprises, no clever twists that had me go “Naw, no fucking WAY!” to keep me turning the pages. And frankly, I wanted more details. I wanted more about the NSA and how it worked, I wanted to know more about code-breaking and how it’s done, I wanted to know how common it was for codebreakers to also be field agents or even if the NSA DID make distinctions between certain types of personnel, I wanted details on different types of bombs and how to defuse them, I wanted the POV of the villains. (To Wind’s credit, though, despite the lack of a villain’s POV, she took care to provide very credible motivation for the terrorists to do what they’re doing.)
In short, I wanted more of everything--including the love story. But a Bombshell can only be so long, and given the type of story it was, I wanted something Robert Ludlum or Frederick Forsythe or even Michael Crichton could offer, only with better characters and better sex. Countdown ended up being neither fish nor foul nor meat, which is too bad because it got so many other things right.





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by Candy • Monday, October 24, 2005 at 06:26 AM
Sarah: Yeah, I got yer “disdain” right here. I got disdain for your weird bony ribs, your nasty flat hair, and your itchy-looking man-pelt. Not to mention your abnormally-long neck.
Candy: Look, it’s one thing to be stalking hot ladies while undead. It’s another to do it while so undead, your arms are decomposing.
Or do vampires get leprosy, too?
Sarah: There’s the obligatory extended-neck pose, the hot-colored background, the full moon, the shirtness dude. But she looks… bored. He’s not even looking at her carotid. He’s looking at her right boob like, “Oh, look. Another titty. And it’s not as big as mine.” (And are his nipples too high or is that a spot on the graphic?)
And she’s got this expression on her face like, “*Sigh* Go ahead. Bite my neck, whatever. Just don’t stain my dress.” These must be the two most underwhemled vampire romance protagonists ever.
Candy: Homegirl’s arching away with that look on her face because the dude? Has blood breath like you will not believe.
Sarah: “I am zee most handsome vampire in all zee world. Gaze upon my manly chestes hairs. Long to play the laces on my shirt like a lute, using only your teeth. But I do not want to suck your blood. I want to steal zee hair care products from your cabinet. Damn. I am the smooth.”
Candy: The only way this guy could look any more gay would be if you strapped a sparkly purple dildo to his head. Again, I blame Anne Rice.
Sarah: BWAHAHAHAHAH Hair of the Dog? Is that a less-than-flattering endorsement of the heroine’s looks? Metal-headed vampire Trent Reznor is cursed - to go back for more of Thorina’s blood to cure his hangover, cursing every step because she is so almighty ugly!
Candy: Colossus’ fey younger brother starts posing as a vampire to get more chicks. All he can snag is that one desperate high school senior with the wonky teeth, but he’ll take what he can get, thankyouverymuch.


by Candy • Friday, October 21, 2005 at 07:08 AM
Yes, that’s right: We’re going to put up YET ANOTHER sidebar item. This one’s going to be a collection of our greatest hits. Someone who’s new to the site can browse some of our best bitchery and get a feel for the site, while those of you who’ve been around for a while can re-visit old favorites and snicker away.
A lot of our bitchery is made extraordinary only because of the comments--my ramble about rape in romance is largely an incoherent mess, for example, but the people who contributed comments made it a lively and informative discussion. I’m also thinking of instituting a “best tangent” category because some of our best and funniest posts veered sharply off-topic, like that time we started ripping on the Thundercats and He-Man in a Covers Gone Wild entry.
So, what would you classify as some of our best articles/reviews/discussions? Here are some of the more memorable ones for us:
15 Things That Only Happen in Romances
Talking About the R Word
You Like Me! You Really, Really Like Me!
Defining Romances: No Ickiness, Please
Romance: It’s Only For Monogamous Hetero Couples!
You Read Like A Girl
Erotica = Literature, Romance = Formula. GOT THAT? (this is one of my favorites mostly because of E.D’Trix’s absolutely horrifying excerpt of a salmon-y sex scene she had to edit)
On A Wicked Dawn
The RWA will never link to this site...
Carpathian Madness (aka all Carpathian novels by Christine Feehan)
You’re shittin’ me. Please tell me you’re shittin’ me (a.k.a. The Big RITA Trainwreck)
The Contemporary Romance Drinking Game
Paranormal Romance Chit-Chat, now with Bonus Paranormal Drinking Game!
Man Titty Contest / Vote for your favorite haiku/ oh, literate tit!
Masturbation and fanfic and WOO DAMN loads of TMI in this entry so be warned (this makes the grade because of the spam haiku)
Post your suggestions in our comments, and we’ll trim this down so it’s a manageable 10- or 15-item list.
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by SB Sarah • Friday, October 21, 2005 at 04:37 AM
Fabulous reader Dr. Frantz, herself a professor of English and romance fan, brought this fabulous event series to my attention:
Conversations about Romance, an ongoing seminar at the Smithsonian.
Suzanne Brockman, Diana Gabaldon, Mary Jo Putney, Carly Phillips and Jennifer Crusie are each booked for a seminar to discuss their writing, and the host, Dr. Pamela Regis, interviews them with a book signing following each session. If the next session wasn’t 9 days after my due date, I’d be in the car driving to DC, no question.
What gets me is the description on the page itself:
Romance novels were created to celebrate women’s control over their own destiny, with the promise of enduring happiness at story’s end. The popular genre’s established pedigree includes such venerable writers as Jane Austen.
The form allows for tremendous latitude in expanding on the basic theme of the heroine and her man.... However, they all share an abiding sense of the heroine as the winning centerpiece.
“The heroine as the winning centerpiece?” “Celebrate a woman’s control over her destiny?” I am so on board with that.
Dr. Frantz also mentioned in her email to me, and on her LiveJournal that the session she attended with Suz Brockmann was fantastic.
I went to Suz Brockmann’s interview this week (drove all the way up from NC!), and it was just fabulous—although it was Suz, and she’s such a great person, it’s difficult to imagine it going any other way. And while the whole evening was immeasurably improved by the dinner afterward with 20 fans, Suz, and her husband, I still think the interview itself was wonderful and worth attending.
What was truly great about it was that you’re in the Smithsonian, for heaven’s sake. Surrounded by signs advertising classes about Opera and Native American Culture and Far Eastern China dildoes painted with flowers (not really), and all these “high culture” things, and then there’s conversations about romance novels in the same space, given the same attention and respect.
I thanked the woman in charge and she shrugged it off, but I thought it was important to recognize her for having the balls to put on a program like this.
I concur - it is so important to consider the development of the romance novel alongside all the high-academe topics such as the development of women’s rights in the 20th century. We certainly touched on this idea during the monster conversation about rape in romance.
But romance novels in the Smithsonian? I’ll have a grin on my grill the rest of the day - that is fantastic!
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by Candy • Thursday, October 20, 2005 at 11:34 PM
I tried to entitle this post “The Best ‘Had a Novelty Hit in the Late 90s and Everyone Probably Thinks They’ve Gone the Way of Third Eye Blind But They’re Still Around and Really Hitting Their Musical Stride’ Band You’ve Never Heard Of” but ExpressionEngine got all mad at me and denied me like the peasant I am.
OK, EE didn’t get mad at me. I just ran out of space in the “Title” field.
I just came back from seeing Nada Surf at the Aladdin. Fun Portland Factlet: The Aladdin used to be a stroke movie theater. The beady-eyed hag who sits behind me in the office once informed me proudly that she saw Debbie Does Dallas there with her husband. If you guys knew N., you’d pity me this piece of TMI, because she looks, acts and sounds like George Costanza’s mother’s slutty younger sister. The urge to throw myself out of the third-story window after imagining N. and her husband (equally hideous) watching an X-rated movie was strong, but I beat it back. Barely.
Ahem. Sorry for the slight de-rail. Back to pimping one of my favorite bands, Nada Surf.
You’ll just have to forgive them for “Popular,” which was a minor hit in… 97? 98? The album, High/Low, was really uneven overall, with a couple of good songs but the rest being drek.
I bought High/Low on a very foolish impulse, and it kind of kicked around in my CD collection, gathering dust. Two years ago, however, I was watching Conan O’Brien, and they came on. Frankly, I was shocked they were still around. I was positive they’d bitten the dust ages ago, together with bands like Tonic (remember them? Actually, please don’t, blech). And their song? It didn’t suck. In fact, I really liked it.
Turned out that they had a new-ish album out called Let Go, and lo, it was very, very good. Yes, the lyrics were sometimes awful, but when the boys got it right, they got it RIGHT. And the music? Tres, tres jolie. Plus there’s a song in there sung entirely in French. French with a heavy American high-school tang, but it’s still amazingly pretty, and as amusing as listening to somebody with a very heavy French accent sing in English.
Their latest album, The Weight is a Gift, doesn’t have quite as many perfect songs as Let Go, but it’s still verra good.
They are REALLY FUCKING FUN live. There are only three of them, and all three of them sing and harmonize. It’s amazing how huge, how textured they sound with only a guitar, a bass and a conventional drum set. I was also shocked at how good the lead singer, Matthew Caws, sounded live. He has a somewhat reedy voice, and if there’s one thing The Flaming Lips has taught me, it’s that these types of voices can go very, very, very badly flat during a live performance. Then James Mercer of The Shins restored my faith in reedy-voiced boys performing flawlessly while live. I wasn’t sure how Caws was going to do, but as it turned out, he performed beautifully, and it wasn’t until the very last song that he hit a couple of false notes. The show, overall, actually sounded better than their albums, and I haven’t seen too many bands who perform even better live than they do in a studio. PJ Harvey and Blur come immediately to mind, but not many others.
My favorite part of the show was when they sang this random song about a kitten. In flawless three-part harmony. The chorus, literally, was “Meow meow meow meow meow meow meow.” Partway through one of the last choruses, and for no particular reason, Caws broke off and did a Milton impression ("Uh, excuse me, I believe you have my stapler").
AWESOME.
And Caws has totally made my “Men I want to lick” list. Short, skinny, funny, sweet-faced, AND he likes Office Space. I’m in love, baby.
Anyway, if you like The Shins, Built to Spill, Arcade Fire, Grandaddy, The Flaming Lips and/or Death Cab for Cutie (random tangent: I don’t know what it is about DCFC that makes me want to go Joe Pesci on the lead singer every time I hear his voice, but DEAR GOD I HATE THIS BAND and I don’t even know how I’m allowed to like indie music without lurrrrving DCFC but seriously? I want to stick sharp ballpoint pens into the lead singer’s throat, that’s how much I can’t stand his voice, which is weird because other singers with similar voices don’t give me pause AT ALL) and anyway, end of DCFC hateration, back to pimping Nada Surf. Give them a chance. They are excellent and underrated. If you want some samples, check out their videos.
Sorry this has nothing to do with romance novels or trashy fiction. Does the fact that i’m picturing myself doing unspeakable, dirty things to Matthew Caws count as being somewhat peripherally related to romances? Or the fact that I’m kind of depressed that you won’t find somebody similar to him (short, dorky, funny, not afraid to act silly for the sake of comedy) in a mainstream romance novel because many romance readers seem to prefer their heroes tall, dark, muscularly be-titted, and not averse to smacking the heroine around?
Yeah, didn’t think so. But if I introduce one other person to the joy of Nada Surf, I’ll consider this space well wasted.
Update: Oh my God. I just found out that Third Eye Blind are still around. There is no God.
Update to Update: Oh fuck me, so is Tonic. AND THEY HAVE A MYSPACE PAGE. There is a God. A cruel, merciless one who revels in the suffering of His creations.
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