

by Candy • Monday, April 11, 2005 at 12:35 PM
I finished Emma Holly’s Strange Attractions over the weekend, and woo boy, what a fun book. Holly writes some friggin’ HOT man on man action, y’all. A few things bothered me about it, though, most of which I’ll cover in tiresome detail (as usual) in my review. But one thing jumped out at me as being especially irksome, and it’s a problem I’ve observed in many other romance novels, so I think it deserves its own not-so-little rant. I’m talking about geek heroes.
I’m a geek connoisseur. I’m a minor-league geek, almost all the boys I’ve dated have been geeks, I married a geek (a boy so geeky that I had the privilege of de-flowering him when we first started dating four years ago), and many, many of my friends are geeks--two of my best friends have PhDs, one in chemistry and the other in physics, and I have more than my fair share of friends who have Master’s degrees in engineering. OK, I only have two friends with advanced engineering degrees--but trust me, two definitely qualifies as “more than my fair share.” I have a bona fide statistician as a friend--a statistician who enjoys bird-watching and science fiction. My friends, it does not get much geekier than that.
So when I say I know geeks, I KNOW GEEKS. I know and appreciate the many different flavors and varieties of them: the hardcore science geeks, the geeks who like to dabble in the shallow end of freaky physics and cosmology but can’t be bothered with the freaky math (*raises hand*), the rainbow varieties of computer geeks, literature geeks, music geeks, movie geeks. These are, of course, hardly mutually exclusive categories: it’s extremely uncommon to find a geek who’s solely into, say, research on irrational numbers and nothing else. Geeks, because they’re smarter than the average bear, tend to have varied interests about which they are usually extremely knowledgeable. Geeks tend not to have hobbies so much as obsessions. But despite this wonderful variety of geekery to draw from, not a single damn romance novel has gotten a geek hero right. This is how most romance novels handle the characterization:
1. Make them sound like Spock after a lobotomy. The more painful and stilted their conversation, the more intelligent they must be, right?
2. They are always, always, always science geeks. Give them an especially esoteric area of interest the average romance novel reader probably won’t know too much about so if the hero’s area of research becomes a plot point, you can fudge outrageously. Quantum mechanics and bioengineering are two extremely rigorous fields that have unfortunately been bombarded by more than their fair share of mass media oversimplification and pseudoscientific kookishness, leading to widespread misconceptions about what’s possible and not possible, so go ahead and misrepresent quantum non-locality or gene therapy and have a friggin’ field day.
3. Despite their geekiness, social awkwardness and general isolation (romance novel geeks resemble people with Asperger’s syndrome more than anything else), these heroes have super-duper lovemaking powers. Is the ability to cause an orgasm merely by waggling their fingers in the general direction of the heroine’s clitty a geek hero trait? Oh yes. In fact: Yes! Yes! YESSSSSS!
Peeve Number 1 is probably what bugs me the most. The reason why I’m so overwhelmingly attracted (romantically and otherwise) to people of Very Big Brain is because they’re such excellent conversationalists. The talk can switch from riffing over the A-Team to the situation in Sudan (which will of course bring up inevitable comparisons with Rwanda) to how photons have momentum even though they don’t have mass to why you think anchovy ice-cream is so very, very wrong, even if it was made by Iron Chef Chinese, to whom you would give your first-born child if you actually had any kids, and isn’t that Rosanjin scholar just the whiniest little bitch of a judge, ever? Geeks are articulate, geeks are quick-witted, and best of all, geeks are FUNNY--or at least the sexy ones are. So why oh why do so many authors take the lazy route and make their geek heroes sound about as lively as those computerized messages you get from the library? Seriously, I often expect the geek hero to start saying things like “Please pick up your books at the CENTRAL… LIBRARY… before APRIL… FOURTEENTH… TWO THOUSAND AND… FIVE.” Except that would be an IMPROVEMENT on the average geek hero’s dialogue.
So if you’re a romance novel author contemplating creating a geek hero, please, please, PLEASE have your geek heroes talk normally. In fact, make their conversation zippy. If you HAVE to show how extra-super-duper-king-sized-smart they are, then sure, throw in some stupid puns involving gluons or whatever, but in my experience, real-life geeks are more likely to make dirty jokes than jokes involving exotic sub-atomic particles. Just keep this in mind: your geek should be capable of creating HAL, but he shouldn’t at any point sound like HAL--unless he’s re-enacting 2001: A Space Odyssey for some reason.
The first bit of Peeve Number 2 isn’t really too much of a peeve, because it IS romantic fiction, and theoretical physics research is a sexier occupation than civil engineering or IT, though all these are honorable geek professions. But for the love of God, GET THE SCIENCE RIGHT. I’m not asking for equations or details, I’m talking getting the most basic of basics correct. Don’t have your geek hero assuming that the magnitude of uncertainty as put forward by the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle remains the same for large bodies as well as sub-atomic particles. If you have a smart science-oriented high school kid handy, have her proof-read the rivetty bits. If she spots errors, it’s a pretty good sign you should do a lot more research. You don’t expect a romance novel set in fourteenth-century England to refer to Thomas Jefferson, right? I mean, that kind of an egregious error merits a thorough beating about the head and shoulders with a history textbook, doesn’t it? So why be sloppy with the science research?
And as for Peeve Number 3: Geeks are often geeks because at some point they were unattractive and/or unpopular, and the mindset has spilled over into their adult lives. This unpopularity oftentimes is due to the person not being able to look right or care about the same things other kids care about, and not necessarily due to a lack of social skills. Yes, there are geeks who live up to every awful stereotype: they’re physically unattractive in every way you can think of (too fat/too skinny/too pimply/bad teeth/bad hair/partially-resorpted fetal twin dangling from their forehead), they snort when they laugh, they’re completely clueless on how to behave themselves in any given social situation, they’re genuinely uncomfortable people to be around--but are we really trying to portray these kinds of geeks as the geek hero? I mean, WHY?
So given that many of the stereotypes of the completely socially inept geek are not necessarily true, one thing does tend to be true: geeks as a group tend to have less sexual experience, or at least start their sexual experiences later, compared to the general population. Sexually inexperienced heroes may turn off some people, but personally, I think they’re adorable. Actually, it’s almost a fetish for me. Part of the reason why I like Wild at Heart and The Shadow and The Star so much is because the heroes have never been with a woman, and witnessing the fumbling is both sexy and very, very emotionally-charged. Why so many romance authors include all the inaccurate and unattractive personality stereotypes while overcompensating them in the bedroom is beyond me. One can learn to give good head; learning to be an engaging conversationalist is also possible, but a LOT harder. Guess which skill I’d much rather teach a guy and which skill I’d much rather have a guy know already. Hell, guess which skill attracts me to a guy in the first place, and the one that will keep the relationship going years and years later when all the fun bits are no longer firm and pert and cellulite has made inroads in areas you never though possible.
You want good geek hero models? Science fiction shall be thy savior. Read some Neal Stephenson. Pick up some William Gibson. Or hey, try Connie Willis--she writes SF novels with a distinct romantic bent featuring brainier-than-average people. See how these authors make being a geek pretty damn sexy even if the books aren’t necessarily focused on sex or romance.





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by SB Sarah • Monday, April 11, 2005 at 12:14 PM
My last rumination regarding whether you read one book at a time, or sample multiple novels at once has produced a great discussion, and I’m amazed at those who can read more than one at a time. I’m in the middle of two concurrently and it’s making me batty. Watch - my reviews of Uncommon Vows and The Pirate Price will jump back and forth as I get confused - suddenly, the medieval knight is a pirate! An Italian pirate! Named Shropshire!
And is it me or does the word “shrop” make you think of puffy shorts? (“Stuffed for an authentic look”? What, with a tube sock and a banana?)
So the commentating going on in that previous entry leads me to my next question: When you have a book on your keeper shelf, how often do you go back and revisit the characters, or reread the whole thing? Do you wait until you forget salient plot points, or do you go visit every now and again because it was so good you get that “good book buzz” every time you pick it up?
And, what are your “good book buzz” books?
It’s not often that I go back and revisit a book’s characters, and now that I’m about to move AND pay movers to move my stuff because I’m too old and creaky to do it myself, I’m looking at tossing out at least half of my paperback novel collection. I have a bajillion and six Nora Roberts’, a bunch of Susan Elizabeth Phillips’, some various Catherine Coulters because I just couldn’t believe she really was getting that horrible, and I’m thinking: the whole lot of them are not worth keeping. How often do I go back to reread them? And of those books, which ones will I read?
Off the top of my head, I’m thinking that “Born in Fire” might make the move, because I love the main characters, though I have to ask myself whether I’ll keep the following two books in the trilogy just because they are a trilogy. But all sixteen bajillion of the rest? I think it might be time to let go. But talking about it now, and sitting down with a “donate” and a “keep” box will be two very, very different stories.





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by Candy • Monday, April 11, 2005 at 06:33 AM
The deal: a whole novel summarized in snarky little vignettes. With thumbnails. It's magically delicious. Part 1 is here; don't read any of it if you don't want an eyeful of spoilers. Or profanity. Or animated GIFs of throbbing hearts.
Smart Bitches Thumbnail Theater Presents: Mr. Impossible, Part Deux.
At Daphne's
Daphne: Sprung from jail! I was going to kill those suckas if they didn't let us out soon. It's good to be rich and white. Oh wait, I'm still a woman. Suck.
Rupert: You're pretty when you're angry.
Daphne: Shush, I just had a bright idea. We probably should've done this first instead of waltzing off to Giza.... But this way we get to fight some thugs. FUN!
Leena: Lady, just lock him up and screw him senseless already. This "sublimation of sexual desire through action" thing you have going on is giving me a migraine.
At the Merchant's
Vanni Annaz : *gurgle* Cherchez Ramesses. *gurglegurgle, dies*
Daphne:
GODDAMMIT. And cherchez Ramesses? Bitch, please. I mean, there you go saying something that sounds like it might be a clew and it turns out it's nothing really related to anything in the plot. YOU BASTARD.
Hapless Thugs : Surprise!
Rupert:
Prepare to get tossed, fools! *proceeds to toss fools*
Not-So Hapless Thugs : *bonk*
Rupert: OUCH. Also: Concussion's a bitch. *passes out manfully*
Daphne: Feel the wrath of Horus, son of Isis!
Statue of Horus : BONK
Hapless Thugs : Ow! Scamper!
Egyptian Cops: What's all this, then? Another dead body, you say?
At Daphne's
Daphne:
Noxley has gone after my brother without bringing me along? Sexist pig. After him!
Rupert:
A river cruise, whee! I am SO going to lose balance on the boat and fall all over her hot azz.
On the River Nile
Boat: LURCH
Rupert: Look at me, losing my balance and shit. Whee, boobies!
Daphne:
My fists, they say "Ka-powity-pow!" (But my eyes? They say "YES! YES! YES!")
Rupert:
Booooobies.
Daphne:
Idiot.
Somewhere else on the River Nile
Other hapless thugs : OK, Ingleezi scum! Be prepared to read some brown thingums!
Miles:
Now wouldn't be a good time to tell you that my sister's the brains behind this outfit, right? Right. Errrr... I need my notes.
Other hapless thugs : This leetle piggy went to market... This leetle piggy got HIS MOTHERFUCKING HEAD CUT OFF...
Other other thugs : HA-HA! We have taken over the boat, and we declare a thug fight! Cut! Slice! Dice!
Other hapless thugs : URK! GACK! GLURK! Man, we suck at fighting.
Miles:
Time to split! Oh shit, more thugs waiting at the escape pod! Think... think...
Ghostly Miles:
"Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in at this petty pace from day to day until the last syllable of recorded time...."
Other other thugs : Ack, community theater Shakespeare! Embrace us, O River! *sploosh*
On Daphne's Boat
Rupert:
Horny. Horny horny horny. HORNY. Plus the boat's not moving, so I don't have an excuse to fall on her again.
Daphne:
Pffff, you're not the only one who's stewing, bub. Instead of doing anything, I'll just talk to you and accidentally reveal my true feelings about my dead husband.
Rupert:
Hey, we're near Memphis. Think you might find a broken bit of stone with some doodly writing over which you can get unnaturally excited?
Daphne:
I thought you'd never ask.
At Memphis
Daphne:
Whoa, a broken statue of a pharaoh! Now I'm going to run off at the mouth and totally, for real give away the fact that I'm the scholar, not Miles.
Rupert:
Care to tease a proposition from me, babe?
Daphne:
I was talking about prepositions, you big, stupid lumm--mmmph! Oh. Mmmmmm.
Rupert:
*totally Frenching*
Daphne:
*totally Frenching back*
Rupert:
*stops Frenching first*
Daphne:
Whuh? Oh. KA-PLOWITY POW POW!
Servants: Oh no, we're not ogling AT ALL. *whistling*
Rupert:
Oops. Curse you, Mrs. Pembroke, and your sexy, mysterious mind! And your sexy, mysterious ass! Um. Wanna go look at some pyramids?
At the Pyramid of Steps
Rupert:
Right, I am SO squicked out by all these pieces of thousand-year-old dessicated corpses crunching under my bootses, but I will remain manfully tight-lipped about it.
Daphne:
Let's go into the pyramid, so I can talk some more about hieroglyphs and drive you nuts with my proximity.
Rupert:
Right. In again, out again, staring at doodles for hours, mmm-hah that was fun.
Daphne: Oooooh, another piece of rock with indecipherable ancient writing on it. Let me just turn it over and OH FUCKING HELL.
Rupert:
Oh look, a viper. I will go into bullfighter mode and save you, fair lady! Toro! Toro! Hemingway, eat your goddamn heart out.
Daphne: Am I out of danger? Oh good. Buh. *faint*
Rupert: This is a GREAT excuse for me to carry you, and then scold you in a really adorable way about how you over-exerted yourself, all on account of a bunch of falcons wearing odd-looking hats.
Horus : Fuck YOU, buddy. You try going through life being the product of a brother marrying his sister and having a crazy-ass uncle bent on stealing the throne. My headwear is the least of my problems.
Daphne: Zzzzzzzzzz.








by Candy • Sunday, April 10, 2005 at 11:46 AM
This session of Covers Gone Wild is a sort of drive-by snarking. Instead of going on (and on and ON) about a single cover, we’re going to take on five different covers and snipe briefly at them, Snarkywood-style. We hope you enjoy stunning the artwork. And we do mean stunning. No, seriously: the only way you could feel more stunned would be if somebody bapped your head repeatedly with a marble bust of Liberace. Wearing an Indian headdress.
Proud Eagle
Sarah: Excuse me, Mr. Eagle, what exactly do you have to be proud of, there? Your interestingly-placed bow, shooting up from your crotch there? Does that, perhaps, symbolize something?
It sure can’t stand for your hunting abilities. I mean, the bird you’re aiming at is BEHIND YOU, dumbass.
Candy: I was under the impression that most Indians don’t suffer from the same kind of pallor the average Oregonian does from being deprived of sun for 6 months out of the year. I’ve seen fishbellies with healthier skin tone. I mean, this guy would qualify as Oscar Wilde-grade “interestingly pale.” Maybe he’s recovering from a bout of fever? That would explain why he’s aiming in the wrong direction.
Savage Hero
Sarah: He’s not savage. He’s mentally disabled. Look: Flaccid bow and arrow shot - no firm erect bowstring for him! Also, if he’s Native American, so am I. How much more anglo can a dude look? He’s like a wanna-be beta male wishing he were a Savage Hero. Picture him at the Halloween party: “No, NO I’m a SAVAGE HERO I tell you!”
Candy: I know Bronson Pinchot’s career has pretty much tanked since Perfect Strangers was cancelled, but really, did he have to resort to Indian drag to put food on his table? Because here I submit to you: Separated at birth, Savage Hero guy and Balki Bartokomous.
Savage Devotion
Sarah: Savage Devotion?
My ass. Savage hairdryer maybe.
Candy: Does Charlie Sheen have a younger brother with a serious waxing fetish? Again, I submit for your perusal:
Savage Fires
Sarah: Darling, get UP! THE TEE PEE IS ON FIRE! We need to get out of here! But wait, I am transfixed by your giant chin, and I cannot move! it is making me weak!
Candy: “IT BURNS WHEN I PEEEEEEE!”
“That’s because your dick is on fire, dumbass.”
When Passion Calls
Sarah: Ha. When People Fall, is more like it. Or, when nature calls - “here, pee right here you half-conscious woman!”
Also, why does he not have a neck? And his face looks like a forensic composite head.
Candy: Reasons why this cover creeps me out:
- No. Neck.
- The Exorcist-worthy angle of their heads.
- Fringed. Buckskin. Pants.
- A rushing river is no place to show off your tango moves, you stupid bitches. And judging by the way the woman’s hair is flying, he’s dipping her at considerable velocity. Is he the primary beneficiary of her life insurance plan? Because maybe he’s trying to dash her head on the river bank or something.






by Candy • Saturday, April 09, 2005 at 01:41 PM
I'm unashamedly ripping off Big-Big-Truck's Cowboy Bebop thumbnail theater, and apparently she ripped it off from some other person named ToastyFrog. But man, doing this for a 312-page novel is a
lot more time-consuming than for a half-hour episode of anime, so I'm going to break this down into four or five instalments. Today's episode covers Daphne and Rupert's adventures until their escape from the pyramid of Chephren, and tomorrow's installment will probably stop at Miles's escape. For those of you who haven't read the book yet
but you plan to and spoilers piss you off, stop reading now because this gives
away substantial chunks of the plot. That, and it won't make much sense.
Anyway, enough babbling; on to our feature! Smart Bitches Thumbnail Theater
Presents: Mr. Impossible, Part 1.
Some bridge in Cairo
Crippled Old Dude: Ow, my kidneys!
Soldier: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Rupert:
O the injustice! Hey Mr. Soldier, here's your ass on a plate, sir.
5 million other soldiers: No, here's YOUR ass.
Crippled Old Dude: I'm a-scarperin', I'm a-scarperin'.
At Daphne's
Leena:
Doooom, glooooom.
Akmed: Ow. Ow. Ow.
Daphne:
WTF, where's my brother?
At the British Consulate
Daphne:
WTF, where's my brother?
British Consul: Uh.
Daphne:
Help me find my brother. Or else.
British Consul: OK, we have this guy, and he's not too bright, but he's
pretty strong...
In some dungeon in Cairo
Rupert:
Brown thingums!
Daphne:
Idiot.
Rupert:
You sound hot. I dig smart chicks who can read all that doodly writing. And
stuff. Also, I'm hot. I'm the hottest disembodied chin you'll find in all of
Egypt, and very possibly the world.
Daphne:
Idiot.
Leena:
Lookit, you silly bint, you have enough brains for both of you. What you need
right now are big muscley muscles for beating off the bad guys. Plus getting
laid properly will make you less cranky.
Daphne:
FUCK.
At Daphne's
Daphne:
OH SHIT. My work! And the bastards stole the mysterious, valuable papyrus Miles
bought for me! And crap, I just totally gave away that I'm the scholar, not
Miles.
Rupert:
Oooh. You're REALLY hot. *manly swoon* Oh hey, here's a recalcitrant servant.
Tell us all, or else
*flexes muscles*
Daphne:
*swoooooon*
Leena:
Rrrowr.
Recalcitrant servant: *tells all, which really isn't much*
Daphne:
We'll go for help at Viscount Noxley's.
Rupert:
Bah.
At Jean-Claude Duval's
Jean-Claude:
YOINK. Also: I have Miles. Mwahaha. I will totally kick Viscount Noxley's ass
in our quest for more antiquities. Bastard Englishmen stealing our Rosetta Stone.
At Viscount Noxley's
Rupert:
I hate you.
Noxley:
I'll just ignore and dangerously understimate the big lummox in my living room,
mmmkay? Daphne darling, don't worry your pretty little head, I'll fix everything.
Daphne:
That's what you think, bub.
Noxley:
Hey, henchmen: take care of the big lummox, won't you?
On the way to Giza
Rupert:
If any of you chickenshit servants desert the beauteous Daphne, I shall defenestrate
thee with much post-hastenes.
Cowering Servants: Eeek! But we

you all the same.
Daphne:
Oh, gag me.
At Chephren's Pyramid
Rupert:
Ooooh, big triangular thingy.
Daphne:
Shut up and help me look for clews.
Rupert:
Your ass looks even hotter when it's waggling in front of me in an dark, enclosed
space.
Daphne: Bla bla bla bla pyramids bla bla bla hieroglyphs and oh by the
way I hate dark, enclosed spaces.
Guides: GLURK!
Rupert: Oh crap, the light's gone out. Quick, to the ladder and the
way out!
Guides: *still dead*
Daphne: OK, Rupert squeezing by me on the ladder was pretty hot.
Egyptian Cops: What's all this, then? Two dead bodies, you say?
Daphne: Oh, crap.





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