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

Then Dunnan gets his fool self killed. (But of course he does. He’s mean to horsies! And he enjoys killing other people! Such a character cannot be long for the world in a romance novel, particularly if he’s married to the heroine.) Moncrief also finds out that his brother has died, making him the Duke of Lymond. He resigns from the army, returns to Scotland, and though he knows it’s a bad, bad idea, finds himself paying a visit to the widow.

Catherine Dunnan is a royal mess. Harry’s death has sent her into a spiraling depression, and along the way she’s developed quite the laudanum addiction. When Moncrief finally meets her, he finds her condition disturbing, but she’s still attractive, of course—drug-addicted romance novel heroines still look good even if they’re sallow and skeletal. When he returns the next day to deliver a spurious last letter from Harry to help comfort her despair, he finds that she’s deep in the throes of Happy Overdose Land.

He immediately takes steps to shock her back to consciousness, but in the process sees her in nothing more than her nightgown, and even worse, has to undress her. This, of course, is an unacceptable state of matters, so he marries her on the spot.

The problem is, Catherine remembers none of this when she regains consciousness. The overdose, the measures Moncrief took to drag her out of her drug-induced coma, the hasty wedding—none of it. But for better or worse, she’s now the Duchess of Lymond and a newlywed when she hasn’t even reconciled herself to being a widow.

Moncrief’s aloofness and autocratic manner irritate Catherine, while Catherine’s obsession with Harry’s letters chaps Moncrief’s hide. Gradually, though, Catherine learns that the real Harry is quite at odds with the man she had fallen in love with in the letters. Since Harry left for the Lowland Scots Fusiliers a mere month after the wedding, it’s not as if she had much time to get to know Harry’s true character.

Overall, I enjoyed the book quite a bit. The characters were engaging, the plot was interesting, and Ranney’s writing style is quite beautiful, but it lacked that special punch that would’ve made it a keeper. Catherine’s drug addiction was particularly interesting to me. It’s not very often that romance novel heroines are allowed such self-destructive behavior, but her descent into it and her recovery are skimmed over when I wanted more grittiness. And ultimately, in a weird twist provided by an out-of-nowhere suspense side-plot, we find out that her addiction wasn’t necessarily her fault anyway. That struck me as sort of cop-out; I would’ve found Catherine a much more interesting, nuanced character if the dependency (and her insistent denials that she wasn’t an addict) had been all her.

Also, the way Catherine handles the revelation that Moncrief truly was the letter-writer was just a bit too calm for my tastes. This is a situation just begging for some high drama, and Ranney has certainly demonstrated that she can write these sorts of things with a very deft hand—my two favorite books by Ranney (actually, these are two of my favorite romance novels, period), Upon a Wicked Time and My Beloved certainly didn’t shy away from drama—so I’m not sure why Ranney avoided it this time. Like To Love a Scottish Lord, a bit more Sturm und Drang would’ve been appropriate. This is ironic because many romance novels have the exact opposite problem: too much melodrama over small, inconsequential issues.

Catherine’s relative calmness when she finds out the true identity of the letter-writer is a contrast with her far more believable reaction when her former in-laws, Harry’s parents, come for a visit and start making insinuations about her lack of devotion to Harry’s memory while praising his name to the skies at every opportunity. She loses her temper and tells everyone off who has been giving her a hard time, and it’s one of the most entertaining scenes in the story. If Ranney had been able to impart that level of energy, snappiness and depth to the rest of the book, I would’ve liked it even better than I did. As it stands, though, this book is certainly no slouch, and it’s definitely worth a read if you’re a sucker for stories involving unrequited love.

The jury is still very much out as to whether the chapter will ever be formally recognized, but at least the application process is underway at the time of this Bitchery posting. And I’ll bet even the most uninformed, disinterested non-writer among you can guess why: that awful world, erotic. And, of course, everything for which it stands. Because even after the lot of us agreed, following much outrage and gnashing of teeth, to eradicate the offensive word from our
title and description, nothing has been guaranteed. After all, even if we don’t CALL ourselves authors of erotica or erotic romance, the fact remains that we consistently write about The Act in terms that leaving little-to-nothing to the imagination, and often include same-gender participants and/or threesomes, foursomes and moresomes.

And even those of us who don’t stray far from the more vanilla combos of one man/one woman/one horizontal surface often force our couples to indulge in hedonistic activities like, as mentioned by an incensed author in an RWR* letter-to-the-editor, ORAL SEX ON THE FIRST DATE. This, the aforementioned author insists, is not her idea of romance. She didn’t bother to give an alternate definition, but I’m guessing the word “porn” wasn’t far from her mind. Or maybe “smut.” Frankly, I’d be surprised if she were thinking “erotica,” but I could be wrong. It’s been known to happen.

So, to recap…

We can’t call ourselves the Erotic Romance Chapter because...well, because. No one’s really given us a GOOD answer as to why the word is verboten. Lot’s of blather about “image,” and what romance really IS, and what it ISN’T. None of which has anything to do with the fact that EVERY MAJOR NEW YORK HOUSE is now dipping its toes--hell, its heels, soles and ankles, too--into the erotic waters. Even Harlequin, that bastion of the closed bedroom door, is beating the coochie drum with its new “Spice” line. And yet, RWA remains resistant. Seems nonsensical to me, but what do I know? I’m unpublished, and a trashy, ill-bred EROTIC ROMANCE WRITER, to boot.

I am one member of a potential chapter, among over two hundred, who is waiting to hear if the sitting National Board has the grace to say, “We don’t much like HOW you write romance, but since you’re writing about people in love and including that all-important happily-ever-after, we agree that you DO WRITE ROMANCE. So come on down, girls, and get yourself a slice of the
pie!” But I’ll be surprised if they do.

On the other hand, I’ll be equally surprised if they say, instead, “Sorry. You just don’t make the cut. In fact, you fall so short of what we consider an exemplary group of romance authors that we sort of wish you’d just...disappear. Completely. And take those icky-poo readers who LIKE your nasty girlie-porn with you.” (Rounded off nicely with a delicate, ladylike shudder, of course.)

We should be so lucky to get such a direct, honest response. If I could face the board today, here’s what I’d tell them: Don’t squirt me with feminine hygiene spray and tell me it’s raining. For God’s sake, ladies, if you haven’t the balls to say you don’t like us or the studmuffins we rode in on, at least don’t lower yourselves to hypocrisy. I--and, I suspect, many of my sisters in smut--would respect you more for a little forthright bitchiness than all the genteel double-speak in the world.

For one thing, your average forthright bitch has class. And I can appreciate that, even when I don’t agree with her about much else.

*RWR - Romance Writers Report, a monthly journal distributed to RWA members.

(Smart Bitch Editorial Note: Two paragraphs of unduly sensitive and detailed information that wasn’t meant for public consumption have been deleted by request.)

Manhunting: Crusie disses on this book pretty hardcore, but really, all the problems she listed? Did not notice them. Would not have CARED even if I had noticed them, because I love the story and the characters so much. First of all, Kate and Jake are adorable. What makes Kate especially adorable is that I fully expected her to be some sort of tiresome, superficial ice queen because Crusie totally sets it up that way then BLOWS UP THOSE EXPECTATIONS, the tricky, magnificent bitch. And Jake? I was SO TIRED of reading about alpha asshole cops and high-powered Type-A corporate raiders in contemporaries that Jake, who’s so relaxed and easygoing that his brother calls him a potted plant (which, if true, then he’s a really fucking SEXY potted plant, rrrowr) was a big breath of fresh air. Second of all, their courtship is hilarious. Third of all, the snobby twits Kate dates and what happens to them are worth the price of admission alone. And last but not at all the least, I like how Kate and Jake start out as friends before their attraction finally overwhelms them and they get down in the store-room in the back of a bar. Definitely an A. (p.s. I prefer the original ending, not the New, Improved Ending in the re-release.)

Getting Rid of Bradley: OK, a quick geek nitpick, and then I’m done: What in the fuck is the “second law of thermonuclear dynamics”? I mean, I have a passing familiarity with the second law of thermodynamics, though by no means am I familiar with with all the squirrelly math that goes into calculating entropy, but thermonuclear dynamics? What? WHAT? But! Love this book anyway. Not quite as much as I love Manhunting, but I love Zack, who is so friggin’ different from the average romance novel cop hero. I mean, he’s aggressive and hyperkinetic and all that, but he’s kinda goofy and funny and not at all an alpha asshole, and just such a GUY kind of guy. A somewhat twitchy guy, and the way they keep poking fun at how high-strung Zack is just cracks me up, like “Nerves? What nerves? Zack doesn’t have nerves, Zack IS a giant exposed nerve ending” (please keep in mind I’m paraphrasing wildly here, the actual quip is much funnier). And I love what a nice foil Lucy’s calmness is to his craziness. So yeah, I dig this book. A-

Sizzle: A wee novella, and it’s fun, though not exactly what you’d call substantial. I have little faith in the HEA given the communication problems the hero and heroine have, but it’s a really cute story, and the details of office life are actually convincing for once. (Besides kids and villains, many romances just can’t seem to portray office dynamics or real-life office jobs worth a shit.) B

Strange Bedpersons: Crusie provides a surprising amount of depth with this one. In some ways it’s a classic Odd Couple sort of a story: Tess is a bleeding-heart liberal crusader who doesn’t give a shit about what she wears and adores having sex in odd (and oftentimes public) places, while Nick is an image-conscious, square-jawed Republican yuppie who isn’t exactly thrilled about being caught bare-assed in a parking lot. Seeing the two of them change and compromise is a lot of fun, and Crusie really has a ball with the liberal-conservative dichotomy and all its stereotypes. And seriously: It has the funniest dropped-fork(s)-during-a-dinner scene EVER. Also contains one of the most heinous mis-statements about Moby Dick I have ever encountered, but it was fixed in the reprint. (Yes, it was one of the first things I checked when I bought it. Yes, I own all of Jennifer Crusie’s category romances in their original and reprint editions. Yes, I know I have a problem, but I wanted Crusie to have some of my money, see, since I had bought all these books used. Or that’s what I tell myself.) Anyway, A-

What The Lady Wants: A fun little caper/murder mytery. Cute animals. Adorably mussed hero who’s more than he seems. Heroine whose Life Is Changed. In short, a quintessential Crusie story. B+

Charlie All Night: Another book that really packs a surprising amount of depth in very few pages--the issue this time is marijuana legalization. But that’s just a teeny-tiny side-plot. Anyway, features yet another somewhat-sullen-yet-adorable Crusie heroine, and Charlie is another mussed-and-not-traditionally-handsome-but-still-hot hero. I especially enjoyed the details on running a radio show. I have no idea if they’re accurate, but it almost doesn’t matter if they aren’t because Crusie makes it feel real. A-

Anyone But You: Oh my God. What can I say about this book? The hero is a funny, cute, slacker ER doctor who’s younger than the heroine. There’s Forbidden Attraction (because they’re friends, see, and they value their friendship so much that they hold off on acting on it FOREVER, and… ooh, let’s just say this is one of my favorite plot devices, and few people do it quite as well as Crusie). The protagonists enjoy MST3K. The sassy, sharp, red-headed best friend actually IS sassy and sharp, not just a tarted-up bimbo with lame one-liners. And Fred. Part beagle, part basset hound, part manic depressive. The original title was The Importance of Owning Fred, and frankly, I wish they’d stuck with it. I love this book. Have I mentioned how much I love this book? I LOVE THIS BOOK. Love love love love and throw a buncha animated throbbing hearts on top of that love, whydoncha? No matter how shitty life is, this book makes me feel happier and more hopeful when I re-read it. A+
Addendum: I just remembered. This book was the very first romance novel I encountered in which the hero and heroine don’t want children. OH MY GOD. Quick, the smelling salts! Another reason why this book is an A+. You just don’t see too many of these critters in romance--or fiction in general. At least not ones who get HEAs.

The Cinderella Deal: Crusie mentioned how Strange Bedpersons was essentially a massive re-write of this book, and there’s definitely a passing resemblance: hippie-dippie heroine hooks up with Yuppie Scum hero, and both learn how to compromise when they fall in love. I like how Daisy swings too far one way, then swings too far to the other, then finds her middle path. It’s almost, like, Zen, man. *Beatnik finger-drums* B+

Trust Me On This: This is a sign I need to re-read the book, because I remember liking it quite a bit, but I remember shit-all about it. Seriously, all I can remember is that the heroine referenced Al Gore during some conversation. So based on the residual glow: B+

Tell Me Lies: Sarah has laid some major hateration on this book, but it’s the first Crusie I read, and I really liked it. I don’t normally like “woman faces crisis in mid-life and re-builds everything from scratch” stories, but I picked it up because of the incredible hype surrounding it, and wonder of wonders, for once my ass wasn’t burned. I really liked the hero and heroine, I really liked their story, I really liked the dog, and I really liked the kid. Now if only Crusie will work on more convincing villains… B+

Crazy For You: Read what Sarah said. (Even though she is SO WRONG about Tell Me Lies.) B+

Welcome to Temptation: Everyone loves this book. Me? I say, “Meh.” Not a BAD meh, mind you--but still. Meh. B-

Fast Women: Ooooh, much better. A murder mystery, two female friends who are fun to read about, cute but neurotic dog, patented dishevelled-but-hot Crusie hero. Ahhhh. A-

Faking It: What is with me and not lovin’ on the Dempsey books by Crusie? Again, I declare MEH. Which is too bad, because the premise of the story (two crooks, one significantly crookeder than the other, try to out-crook each other) sounded like so much fun. C

Bet Me: Big old SQUEEE OMG I LOVE THIS BOOK SO MUCH from me, folks, which, as you may have gathered, isn’t exactly an uncommon occurence with me when it comes to Crusie. (But if you think I’m bad with Crusie, just wait till I finish my Laura Kinsale Lightning Reviews. Oh just you wait.) I love everything about the story: Min’s change from grumpy tight-ass to zaftig babe, Cal’s hotness, Elvis the cat, the two awesome best friends, the cute-but-not-nauseatingly-sweet kid, the descriptions of the fun, kicky shoes, the descriptions of the mouth-watering food, the way the Universe steps in and actively starts hurting Cal when he decides he can’t see Min any more. Sigh. A+