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

Over at the LA Times book blog, Carolyn Kellogg examines the dilemma of cover art, and making sure that literary fiction novels sell ... perhaps at the expense of being taken seriously from a visual perspective.

Citing evidence such as GalleyCat’s side by side comparison of Sue Hepworth’s Zuzu’s Petals, and Bookninja’s contest to recast classic novels to appeal to popular markets like “romance, chick lit, thriller, scifi, fantasy, celebrity kids, etc”, Kellogg’s entry follows a 7 October article in The Independent that questions whether authors are being asked to “dumb down” their work to appeal to a larger readership.

For those of you observing Yom Kippur tonight, have an easy fast. 

I wanted to draw attention to Jane’s chilling post on the meaning of voting in the context of the status of individuals in other countries.

As for me: I already voted. (Yes, huge relief. PHEW.) I don’t as a rule trust the voting machines in any location, particularly since every time I’ve voted there’s been a different machine from a different manufacturer. So I am a permanent absentee in the state of New Jersey (sounds like a paranormal romance plot, doesn’t it? Permanently absent, but still there). My #2 pencil and I voted this weekend. One down, only a few million to go.

Back to your regularly scheduled romance novel banter. 

I try to make sweet monkey love to my treadmill in the afternoons when I can, and while doing so I am usually reading and half-listening to whatever music I find on the upteen-thirty music video channels on my cable lineup.

And what to the corner of my eye should appear but a video directed by...Stephenie Meyer? From a genre I call “whine-rock” comes Jack’s Mannequin, and a host of rather obvious images that are the visual equivalent over overly-sweet candy. Hearts! Lots of them! Oy, says I. People’s article has a quote from the band’s singer-keyboardist stating that the video has a whimsical, other-worldliness to it.” Oy, again, says I.

I don’t have a lot of time at the ‘puter to do the full on Google-Fu, but I’m pretty sure that the floating pale corpse-like person near the end is the actress from Twilight.

Wanna see? Have a look & listen:

Now - the real question: what romance authors ought to be directing music videos? I mean, come on now. Five minutes with the Author Talk ladies and Aerosmith would have a KICKIN’ video. 

Personal foul, unnecessary bullshit against romance genre, use of “bodice ripper:” Laurel Maury, Los Angeles Times. 15 yard penalty, loss of down, and much mockage on the field. Taunting penalty against Smart Bitches is declined.

“The Jewel of Medina” is a second-rate bodice ripper or, rather, a second-rate bodice ripper-style romance (it doesn’t really have sex scenes). It’s readable enough, but it suffers from large swaths of purple prose. Paragraphs read like ad copy for a Rudolph Valentino movie.

“From my camel’s hump I could feel the leaf-kissed air moving like a cool, moist cloth across my brow as I inhaled the fresh clean scents of petal and blade and springs gilding the morning,” says A’isha. The newly founded Islamic community is fleeing Mecca, and she’s selling air freshener. Also, it’s unfortunate that Jones refers to male genitals as “the scorpion’s tail.” Perhaps this is an Arabic metaphor, like the Petrarchan conceit of lips like cherries, but it doesn’t work.

Thanks to Jessica M. via earlyword.com.