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

Today’s Romancing the Blog entry by Charlene Teglia is a love-letter of sorts to alpha heroes. I don’t mind alpha heroes, as long as they don’t segue into “jerk” territory.  But I’m seeing a lot of false conflation in the ensuing discussion--and I’m by no means innocent of it, either.

People who don’t like alpha heroes immediately equate them with jerkholes who consistently mistreat the heroine, sometimes (in the older romances, anyway) raping her unrepentantly.

People who don’t like beta heroes immediately equate them with wussy girly-men who are wishy-washy and weak.

Oh boy. Check out the new contest Kate Rothwell has set up.

The “cover art” she’s chosen is… Damn. Just go look.

I love that I can spend another day putting off trying to illustrate the new clutch shaft Engineering has decided to inflict on us so I can think up delicious blurbs for this contest.

Another Friday, another personal ad! Guess the character name, title, and author correctly, and find yourself the proud owner of a lovingly-crafted, 100% dairy-free and heart-healthy Smart Bitches title.

SWF, 35 y.o., all alone and hopelessly on the shelf looking for a sexy, hypothermic stranger to pass out on my door. Good-looking illegitimate gunslinger/private investigator with overdeveloped sense of chivalry preferred. I have small farm, cozy house, some livestock; you have requisite equipment to take care of my virginity because damn, I’m sick of this hymen and nobody in the Dakota Territories wants it. Commitment would be nice, but one-night stand also acceptable.

p.s. Am willing to assist in any sort of investigation you’re involved in. I won’t get in the way, I swear.

Addendum: OK, since nobody’s gotten it yet thus far, I offer these hints:

- It’s a book written by a fairly popular author who’s written only historicals with American settings; the worst grade she’s ever gotten at AAR was a C.

- This particular book was published by HarperCollins in 1997.

Ringing any more bells?

MelJean’s musings on homosocial and homosexual under-and-overtones (heh heh) in romance made me ponder the friendships between men, which usually center around common painful childhoods (see: Putney), family connections (see: Quinn) and opportunity for somewhat goofy nicknames for circle of friends (see: Putney, Laurens), and common social habits, i.e. clubs, hunting groups, hooker-hunting groups, gambling, and/or bonding while suffering through endless balls, dances, and social events.

What about friendships among women? I know there are more than a few series wherein older matrons bond together and interfere - sorry, lovingly involve themselves - in young hero and heroine von romanticshire’s lives. But it seems to me that friendships among men, which according to some feminist theorists serve to reinforce heterosexuality and patriarchy, are much more common than true, multi-novel lasting friendships among women. There are a few exceptions that moved beyond “elder character from previous novel giving sage advice to young virgin heroine,” such as The Wallflowers in Kleypas’ Secrets of a Summer Night, the friendships that follow through Julia Quinn’s two early works, Splendid and Dancing at Midnight though there is some of that in each novel. Perhaps there’s an imaginary line that heroines cross when they have sex and settle down into married bliss, because I have much clearer recollections of heroines from previous novels appearing decades older and somehow unable to connect with the younger, virginal crowd anymore, than I do of heroines retaining their personalities and remaining merry friends with heroines of other books in a related series.

What does that mean, from a critical perspective? Is the underlying emphasis of romance novels the reaffirmation of the heterosexual patriarchy, and thus the friendships and homosocial collectives of men are of more importance than the friendships of women, which do little to support that patriarchy, and, in fact, undermine it?

However, as has been established, my memory for these things is quite poo. Do y’all challenge my recollection of female friendships? Shall I stop flexing these flabby fem-crit brain muscles?

And Meljean has constructed rock-solid arguments on why this is so.

Please. Read her article. It will open your eyes--and heal your gout, too, should you be gouty, that is.