(Now watch as I decide that the whole review can’t possibly fit into one post, promise a part two and never get around to finishing it)

But, in all seriousness, I would like to thank our humble webmaster for the opportunity to post here.  And, while I’m pretty sure I won’t be as funny as Kevin or as insightful as Noel, I will try my best to be good anyway.

Now, on with the review.

I picked up Monica Burns’ “Pleasure Me” more or less on impulse. the cover caught my eye, but it was the synopsis on the back that really grabbed me. A romance novel set in the late 19th century United Kingdom, featuring a 41-year old courtesan and a younger man…

Anyone who’s followed me on Twitter or read my blog would know of my fondness for older women. I’m also a bit of sucker of romantic movies set before the 20th century. I’ve watched entirely too many films where my thought process something like this:

1. Is it romance?
2. Does it have corsets?
3. What are we waiting for – lets watch!

So when I saw a novel that had an older woman/younger man romance and a period setting, I knew I had to check it out.

As I started reading it, I found myself enjoying it. As the novel opened, our female lead, Lady Ruth Attwood, has just been dumped by her latest patron – for a younger woman, no less. At 41, Ruth doesn’t feel particularly old, but that sort of thing has been happening a lot recently, leaving her to wonder if she should take her savings and retire from the courtesan life.

I liked Ruth right off the bat. The opening chapter presented her strong woman who didn’t fold easily under pressure, someone who could be charming and gracious at one moment and  fire off an eloquently cutting zingers in the next. While losing a patron hurt her ego, Ruth was determined not to let the disappointment ruin her life completely. She is as loyal to her servants as they are to her, and, when she loses a patron and with it, a source of income, her first concern is over how that would affect her ability to buy a new building for an orphanage she’s been funding.

Yes – our heroine spends most of her money on orphans. Under other circumstances, that might have been a bit too precious, but, in the context of the novel, it becomes just touching enough to avoid cliche.

While at a society function, Ruth runs into our male protagonist, the 29-year-old Baron Garrick Stratfield. Initially, he came off as a cliche Brooding Love Interest With a Dark Secret. But unlike a lot of characters of this type, he didn’t come off particularly assholish – he came to Ruth’s support when she found herself in the midst of some society drama, and he generally treated people well unless they didn’t deserve it.

As for the brooding thing – well, Garrick was trying to keep people from getting too close. Especially women. For, you see, there was something about him that was so horrible that there was no way any woman could love him.

Then, one chapter later, we find out that his horrible dark secret is the fact that he only had one testicle.

I did a double take. This couldn’t seriously be the horrible secret… could it?

The next few pages made it clear that, yes, it very much could.

At this point, I figured that the novel would either get unintentionally hilarious or somehow make the whole dark secret thing work. Either way, I had to keep reading.

And, in the end, I’m still not entirely sure what to think.

On one hand, it didn’t really get unintentionally hilarious – at least not in the way that’s mockable.  During the course of the novel, we learn why Garrick thinks his birth defect is so horrible – it had to do with a traumatic incident in Garrick’s teenage years and generally terrible environment he grew up in. It’s telling that, once Ruth found out the truth, pretty much shrugged it off (and then spent the better part of the next few chapters trying to build up Garrick’s self-confidence). By the last third of the novel, it’s clear that the real issue isn’t Garrick’s “deformity” – it’s his struggle to achieve a sense of self-confidence and self-worth.

At the same time, as the novel progressed, I came across other things that started to bother me. I liked the early courtship between Garrick and Ruth, full of back-and-forth quippery and discussions of the moral implications of literature. And, later, when Garrick starts to trust Ruth enough to (slowly, oh so very slowly) reveal his secrets, and the readers get to see the defensiveness and vulnerability beneath the broodiness. It is interesting to watch his character growth as he realizes that being vulnerable didn’t make him “less of a man.”

But as the novel continued, Ruth seemed to have been losing chunks of her personality – the wit, her wilfullness, her ability to set boundaries and enforce them. Yes, the whole “being around the man I love makes me want to stop arguing and do what he wants” is a trope as old as romance genre, but it was weird seeing a character who rebuked Garrick after he (accidentally) insulted her in the beginning of the book let him pretty much ignore her requests about half a book later.

And then, there is Garrick himself. At the beginning of the novel, he was presented as standoffish, driven and a bit pigheaded. He was a man who worked hard to establish the “I am the Alpha Male, I am strong and I get what I want” persona to compensate for his deep-seated insecurities. He likes being in control because he grew up barely in control of anything and because, when he let his guard down, it tended to come back to haunt him. One would have hoped that, once Garrick gained more genuine self-confidence, he would have learned to relax a little and not worry so much about getting his way. But, if anything, he became more pushy and arrogant. When he offended Ruth earlier in the novel, Garrick seemed genuinely contrite, and he tried to apologize.  But when, toward the end of the novel, Garrick tried to convince Ruth to marry him, he borderline bullied her into accepting it.

(I say “borderline” because it also involved an attempt to actually address her reservations and try to ease her concerns, but there were several lines and moments that still made me uncomfortable).

There is also the issue of how the novel handled conflict (such as it was). In romance novels, it is customary for protagonists to face obstacles before they get together. Those obstacles tend to form what passes for conflict in the genre. And there is nothing wrong with that per se (personally, I don’t think stories necessarily need to have any big conflicts at all – I’m perfectly content to read about things just happening so long as they happen in an interesting way). But the problem with the novel is that a lot of those obstacles are kind of… weak. They get built up as something significant, even insurmountable, only to have the author resolve them a chapter or two later with barely a fuss.

Garrick doesn’t want Ruth to see him naked, but he also wants to screw her? Ruth suggests a blindfold. Ruth winds up seeing his nether regions anyway? She, as I mentioned earlier, pretty much shrugs it off. Even when Garrick is threatened with a prison sentence for a crime he didn’t commit, the whole plot winds up resolved so quickly that one has to wonder why the author even bothered.

And finally – this is something of a personal pet peeve. The novel makes a big deal out of Ruth’s age – and proceeds to downplay it as much as possible when actually describing her. Yes, she is in her 40s, the novel says, but she actually looks much younger. Come to think of it, Ruth barely shows any signs of aging at all.

There are many women in their 40s who look pretty damn good without the aid of Botox and what have you, but they don’t look like 20-somethings. Aging process affects us all – some less than others, but it’s still there. The Lucy Liu looks pretty damn good in Elementary, but you’d never mistake her for the Lucy Liu that appeared in Ally McBeal.

Now, I realize that a lot of this has to do with the novel’s primary target audience, who are, most likely, women around Ruth’s age. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to appeal to their hopes and dreams, to assure them that 20-something men would still find them beautiful. But I don’t think the audience is particularly well-served if they present an unrealistic ideal of what a woman their age would look like.

Still, the novel has many things going for it. The writing style is descriptive and engaging, the characterization is well-handled, the parts that are meant to be amusing genuinely are. One can tell that the author spent time researching period detail – and while i don’t know enough about the period to be absolutely sure everything is accurate, I appreciate the effort. I was impressed with the fact that social standing was a big deal and an important driving force in the plot – as one would expect from the time period (and something that many less skilled writers tend to forget). I particularly like how the novel drew attention to the distinction between what everybody knew but didn’t talk about and what was out in the open (a subtle distinction, but a pretty important one in the context of the novel).  And it is nice that Ruth actually has a female friend who supports her through thick and thin (and who feels like a living, breathing person with thoughts and opinions of her own) – something that we don’t see nearly enough with female characters in general.

Well, it looks like it’s time to wrap things up. Thank you for indulging me, dear Made of Fail readers. Maybe someday, I will come back and review something that does turn out to be hilariously terrible.

Then again, given this blog’s record when it comes to multi-part features, perhaps I should quit while I’m ahead.

Instead, the game face is being thrown back on as I finally sit down and show this chapter who its master is.

We open with Control Freak Grey and Anastasia Steele stepping out of the elevator, Ana instantly reminiscing over their passionate encounter. Because Grey is acting like nothing happened whereas she’s mentally professing herself a changed woman due to her aroused inhibitions and swollen lips (did he headbutt her in the mouth? Why are they swollen?), Ana starts comparing the incident to the myths of King Arthur and Atlantis.

Fuuuuuuuuck thiiiiiis boooooooo–

GAME FACE!

So the main thrust (no pun intended) of this chapter is that Ana’s on switch has been flipped. She’s had absolutely zero romantic interest in anybody before this point, and now all she wants is the opportunity to do the horizontal tango with Grey. It’s important that I get this out up front because I really REALLY don’t want this overview to intercut every single paragraph with “And Ana wants sex.” She’s locked onto that goal and doesn’t waver from it for the whole chapter. Which is fine. It’s actually a bit refreshing to read about a romantic heroine who, instead of being afraid of sex or playing out the “blooming of the virgin” scenario, clearly knows what she wants and who she wants, and sets about getting it. I expressed issues with her relationship history and her choice of Grey in the last chapter, so I won’t linger on them here and instead just end the point by saying it’s not all that poorly done… with the exception of bizarre moments like namedropping Atlantis and King Arthur. I’ll bring up a few other unfortunate bits, but otherwise just take it as a given that every paragraph ends with “And Ana wants sex.”

As Ana and Grey step into his car, things cease to be a novel and instead become one of those bizarre stretches of product placement advertising as every amazing feature of his Audi SUV is highlighted over the course of the ensuing conversation. “Do you like the music? Watch in wonder as I use a button on my steering wheel to play that track again!” “That ringing over the speakers means I have a call coming in. Hang on a second while I use a button on my steering wheel to answer it in a hands-free fashion!” Either “James” just bought an Audi and wanted to share her mad humping love for it with the readers, or she was hoping Audi would give her a car. Given the sales on the book, maybe they have. Who knows.

[Thought: Out of curiosity, does anyone know if the Audi bit was in the original fanfic draft, or was it added during prep for publication? It feels like something that would be oddly out of place in fanfic.]

During her advertisement for an Audi, “James” lists off a few more of her favorite things, namedropping “The Flower Duet” from Lakme and the works of Thomas Tallis, and then Grey and Ana gush about how awesome Kings of Leon is as Grey uses that handy steering wheel button to flip to a track by them. Remember how Stephenie Meyer kept namedropping Muse and then scored some songs from them on the Twilight film soundtracks? Methinks “James” is hoping for a similar result with Kings of Leon.

Then we move into the steering wheel button operator game segment as Grey gets not one, not two, but three calls in succession, all cutting in on their enjoyment of the tune “Sex On Fire”, which Ana likes because “And Ana wants sex.” First, the cryptic announcement that the information Grey requested has arrived. Then news that a Non-Disclosure Agreement has been e-mailed to him. Remember this! It plays a very important part later – ah, fuck it. There’s no reason for this at all. The problem with a throwaway line is you have to be careful not to make it so unnecessary that it can be thrown away without lessening the impact of the story in any way.

And then Elliott calls, asking if Grey got laid. And then Elliott and Ana tease one another about Kate. And then they actually get to Ana and Kate’s place, where Elliot still is and they were going to anyways, so the reason for him to call was what exactly? No, seriously, “James”, did you slip another call in there just to further show off the Audi’s features? Because nothing that’s said in that moment carries us to the next scene, nor could it have not been said once we got to that scene.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:

COULD! HAVE USED! AN EDITOR!

Just before we get to Ana and Kate’s apartment, there’s a bit where Ana asks why Grey keeps calling her Anastasia. He says it’s her name and continues doing it, despite her protests. This is the man who insists upon which people are allowed to refer to him by which specific variant of his name, but heaven forbid he show the same courtesy to anyone else. While fully reveling in it with a smirk, no less. There’s teasing, and then there’s being an asshole. And Ana loves it, of course. Because [chorus].

And then he apologizes for what happened in the elevator and says it won’t happen again unless it’s “pre-meditated”…… Pre-meditated? No, try consensual, you ass!

He pulls up outside my duplex. I belatedly realize he’s not asked me where I live – yet he knows. But then he sent the books, of course he knows where I live. What able, cell-phone-tracking, helicopter owning, stalker wouldn’t.

Remember that Awesome Ana inner voice that occasionally stepped in to champion the image of Grey as an arrogant stalker who should be avoided at all costs? Her presence has increasingly dwindled over the last few chapters, and I fear we may have lost her all together because that paragraph, the holy crap run away statement made above isn’t instantly followed by a gnawing feeling of “Yeah, this situation is a little uncomfortable, isn’t it?” and is instead punctuated with:

Why won’t he kiss me again? I pout at the thought.

FUUUUUUUUCK THIIIIIIIIIIIS BOOOOO–

GAME FACE!!!

Oh, and Ana says Grey’s surname should be Cryptic, which means I should start calling him Mr. Control Freak Cryptic by this point. But I won’t, because it’s been months since the last post and I don’t want people scratching their heads over how far this joke has progressed. So no more Cryptic, no more Control Freak (C.F. for short), from now on it’ll just be Grey. Not Christian, though, because he specifically said that’s just for friends and I still don’t want to be in this dude’s call-list, whether it’s housed in the steering wheel of his Audi or not.

So Kate is all giddy from sex and Elliot is all “dude-bro I just got laid!” from sex and they’re both deeply making out to the point of Elliot dipping Kate to the floor as the two people who haven’t yet had sex but want to watch on. And this is echoed by Elliot following his tonsil exam with a “Laters, baby,” then Grey longingly stroking Ana’s face before saying… fuck, I’m actually going to have to quote this aren’t I… he also says “Laters, baby,” and the two brothers drive off, leaving behind a pair of women with loins all aflutter.

And the chapter isn’t through! Woohoo! We’re not even… *looks* Oh goddammit, we aren’t even a third of the way through the chapter yet! *bites the head off of something* *then schedules appointment with dentist because biting the head off a plastic bottle is apparently not good on one’s teeth*

Kate and Ana gush about the boys, swap stories, then Kate promises to get Ana all nice and purdy in time for the date. BEGIN MONTAGE as–

Wait, what? There’s no sprucing up montage? I am disappoint.

So as soon as Ana gets all sprucified, she heads off to work… and then we flashback to the sprucing montage!

Oh fuck you! There’s absolutely no reason for that bait ‘n’ switch! If you’re going to do a plucked and polished montage, just do it! Don’t further demonstrate your continuing lack of anything resembling a narrative flow by cutting to another scene, then reminiscing about the montage that took place before it!

And why is Ana getting all spruced up before heading to work, with Grey set to pick her up for their big date as soon as she’s off shift? She works in a home improvement store and the book clearly states she’s working past closing time to restock the shelves. Maybe “James” never worked in a home improvement store and thus doesn’t know anything about something she’s never done any research on, but there’s a lot of very heavy stuff in a home improvement store, and even the smaller items will give you quite the workout after a while. Meaning Ana will will be a sweaty, slightly unkempt mess just as her date shows up to drive her off for a night of “And Ana wants sex.” The book clearly states that Kate does all her sprucing within a single hour, so why not, I don’t know, push the date back an hour so Ana has a little time to go home, tidy up, and get spruced then? “James” not only knows next to nothing about narrative flow, but wow, she doesn’t even plan an evening all that well.

Tonight’s the night! After all this time, am I ready for this? My inner goddess glares at me, tapping her small foot impatiently.

Ah, so that’s what happened to the inner Ana who was smart and sharp and tried like hell to guide her external self away from Grey and his shenanigans. She was struck down by a higher power, a Mary Sue that ascended to a level of narrative warping divinity. I hereby give this inner goddess the name of Elemental Lifebringer James, the convoluter of relationship realities in favor of nonsensical draws and expectations, and giver to fanmoms everywhere the gift of a version of Twilight they can more thoroughly fondle themselves to.

Elemental Lifebringer James! The one known as Grey hast arrived to sweep the thoroughly shaved maiden Anastasia away to their nightly courting, and lo, the woman is dried of perspiration with hair fully groomed and makeup unsmudged! May thy hollowed reasoning be praised as we await the next divine miracle of thy heavily-inspired-by-another-work creation!

So Grey and Ana have a short ride in the back of his limo, with hand holding that gives Ana her first few orgasms of the night, and lines from her like:

“Very long,” I reply, and my voice is husky, too low, and full of need.

And it turns out Grey and his brother like to go off on hiking trips. Yet another surviving element from Twilight. But since I doubt they feast on mountain lions in this version, the point of it has become a little lost.

And then they show up at a building and she gets horny at the idea of being in an elevator with Grey again, but it’s only three floors and they’re on the roof with the chopper and an old guy name Joe who Grey refers to by his first name, which puts Ana in shock and admiration that Grey is actually showing respect to someone, then she’s in the chopper and he kisses her and barks orders at her and tells her not to touch anything and straps up her harness and

“I like this harness,” he whispers.

What?

What?

For once, you and I agree, Anastasia Steele.

So they take off, and what follows is several pages of Grey making the lights outside go further away while we get detailed radio speak with the flight tower that shows us “James” may have actually been in a helicopter and taken notes at one point in her life, all while Ana stares at the ground, the controls, the Grey, all with the gape jawed awe of an 80s Amblin child star, and occasionally expressing herself through lines that roughly translate to “…ZOMG…”

As they approach Seattle, she compares the beauty of the sight to Bladerunner, because those cityscapes of pollution, decay, and corporate dystopianism truly were… okay, well, yeah, they were stunningly beautiful, but not in the ways Ana is trying to express, so shush. Anyways, Bladerunner is Jose’s favorite movie, which gets her thinking about Jose and feeling bad that she’s left him hanging after his “attempted kiss”. Sweetie, no. The dude got wasted and assaulted you. You absolutely should not be feeling bad about giving him the cold shoulder from now on. Earlier in the chapter, it’s mentioned he tried to call numerous times that day. If he starts showing up, buy a stun gun and taze that bro. Aim for the nuts. He’s got it coming.

…………………………………………….

…………………………………………….

…………………………………………….

…………………………. *sigh*

It’s now been about two months since I wrote the last paragraph above. I keep opening this file, looking at where I left off, spending a few minutes thinking about where to go next… and then I close it and do some other stuff. And that last paragraph above was the last in a piece chipped together during another stretch of two months, where I became so exhausted and bent writing about this tripe that I’d add a paragraph, then do other stuff for a few days. Then add a paragraph, then do other stuff for a few days. Now I can’t even do that much. Now I just stare at the next blank line before giving up.

This book broke me.

I’ve read shit. I’ve enjoyed shit. I’ve gotten a kick out of going through shit just so I can discuss it with other people and share with them how shitty it is. But not here. With this book, this amateurish, unedited, lazy setup for a book that doesn’t hint at getting any better, all I am is exhausted. I haven’t even touched the thing in two months and the mere thought of doing so saps a bit of life from my soul.

And I haven’t even gotten to the kinky shit yet! This is all setup. This is all boring people having boring conversations and making boring introductions and getting the same boring backstory twice because someone couldn’t be bothered to tell the author that, no, her manuscript is not immune to a red pen. I haven’t even fulfilled the setup, but the setup for the setup is such a waste of words that I just don’t care. I got through the Twilight books just fine, even legitimately enjoyed stretches. This book just doesn’t have that same misguided spark to give it any life beyond the rote fanfic it is.

This is an awful book.

So far. Let me stress, so far. I refuse to fully condemn a book unless I read the whole things, but lord, something must be said for me not even being able to make it past Chapter 6. Hell, I had a final payoff for the game face joke I set out above, a perfect picture of Reb Brown mowing down opposition in front of an explosion… but I just don’t have the energy to finish the joke.

Hell, I don’t think I have the energy to finish the book.

……………………… However, I did make a commitment. I reached out to a pair of friends, both of whom made it to the end of this diaper padding, who agreed to discuss it with me in a podcast following my completion of the novel. I’ve already delayed things long enough that I’d hate to just scrub it altogether. So, yes, I will finish.

I don’t know how I’ll finish, or what format this will take following Chapter 6, but I’ll make myself get there somehow. I probably won’t keep the chapter-by-chapter format, and even if I do, I’m not going to dwell into as much detail as I have been. I might also do it in broader chunks, or just finish the damn thing whole and pen a single, all-encompassing review. I don’t know. I’ll figure it out soon.

As for the rest of this chapter, the two have dinner. Both clearly want to have sex, demonstrated by her biting her lip a lot and him saying how much he’d rather be the one biting her lip. He pulls out a reference to the classic novel whose name I don’t remember off the top of my head and don’t give enough of a shit to look up, asking if she wants him to be the lover who gently adores her or the one who ravishes and uses her. She says the latter, half jokingly, then he pulls out the non-disclosure form. She signs it. He says its time for her to see his playroom. It’s time to get acquainted with this amazing service such as omnibod cams. Additionally, if someone you know is struggling with addiction, they can find the help they need at a private drug rehab centre. Finding the right support system is crucial for overcoming addiction, Alcohol Rehab programs offer comprehensive treatment plans tailored to individual needs, helping individuals achieve long-term recovery and wellness. For those needing specialized assistance, help with cocaine addiction can be found through dedicated services.

“You want to play on your Xbox?” I ask. He laughs, loudly.

Fucking give me strength, clapping pixies, because I’m about to run from this again.

He opens the door and stands back to let me in. I gaze at him once more. I so want to know what’s in there. Taking a deep breath, I walk in.

And it feels like I’ve time-traveled back to the sixteenth century and the Spanish Inquisition.

Holy fuck.

Points for not using a “crap” or “shit” there, “James”.

As I said, I don’t know when I’ll be back or what format this will be in when I do, but I’ve sat on this chapter long enough, and I hope to get through the rest of the book and take a stab at that podcast before the end of the year. Just give me a kick now and then if you don’t see me moving on it.

What the hell. Let’s share one last game face for the long, clumsy, unedited road ahead.

Welcome to an entire chapter of this.

After her drunken escapades and fainting of the night before, Ana wakes up in the bed of C.F.’s hotel suite, where he took off her pants (with the old “they had vomit splattered on them” excuse), tucked her in, put orange juice and painkillers on the nightstand for when she wakes up… and, we learn later, spent the entire night sleeping next to her.

Instead of getting Ana home, where she could be cared for by her close friend and roommate, Kate – who C.F. instead left behind at the bar for his brother to fuck – C.F. took it upon himself to spend the night with this woman he’s met twice and rescued from death by bicycle. Now, okay, to be fair, he didn’t do anything untoward aside from sharing the bed with her, and even then, in a sleeping way. It’s creepy, especially given knowledge of where things are going, but fine. I’ll give him that. He didn’t leave her alone to choke on her own vomit, and only removed the clothing that was soiled. There. I’ll let you have that one.

So she wakes up, fully turned on by the situation – that subconscious voice of Awesome Ana barely chimes in at all anymore – especially when Grey walks in, all sweaty and flushed from his morning exercises. They talk as he fills in her confusion, then he hops in the shower and… as you can guess, the majority of this chapter is about Ana being horny. Every page furthers the flow of blood to her loins, and when she hops in for her own shower, she notices that the body wash smells like him (I think it’s the other way around, sweetie) and starts playing with herself as she imagines running Mr. Control-Freak Grey all over her body.

She’s interrupted before she thinks to start exploring the shower head settings, and towels off, discovering the lacy blue lingerie and new clothes Grey’s assistant, Mr. Buzz-Cut, bought for her. She has a moment where she imagines Mr. Buzz-Cut to be serious and professional as he shops for lingerie for his boss’s most recent fling at stores like those at https://www.shopfrontdesign.co.uk/leicestershire/leicester/ that will definitely catch your eye, and I suddenly think of another story I wish this book was about. Seriously, the uber-professional assistant always cleaning up after the bondage loving boss and his harem of sex slave interns would make for a great cynical satire, and a much better book than Ana’s holy crap sexual awakening.

Anyway, Ana shows up for breakfast and Grey keeps bossing her around and he forces her to eat and keep eating and finish your plate, “that’s a good girl.” Almost everything Grey says to Ana is an order of some kind. He never asks her what she wants, just tells her what he wants her to do. And when he’s challenged, he just points out that it’s what she should be doing anyways and all he’s doing is being the logical voice of reason. And Ana goes along with it. It’s almost as though (FORESHADOWING) the life of dominance and submission is something she never knew she’d been searching for her whole life!

Even though it’s never once been reflected in the way we’ve actually seen her live her life. Never once has she been shown as seeking out others to tell her what to do. Never once has she come off as lost and looking for guidance. She’s stable. She’s capable. She’s fully independent and – at least in the first chapter – has a clear head and friends and a job and goals and is just wrapping up her education. She isn’t longing for fulfilment or guidance. Ever. At all. On the flip side, she isn’t so ragingly independent that the story is about her being “tamed”. And, no, I’m not saying strongly independent women should be tamed, just looking at archetypal story structures (Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew) the book had a potential to mirror. It would have opened a whole ‘nother can of worms if it had gone that route, but at least I would have understood it and what it was trying to say. Here, I don’t get it. I don’t see how this pending relationship is building off of some need in her life she’s discovering, because, structurally, the story hasn’t established any such need as being there.

Maybe it’s just that, like Bella Swan with Edward, she isn’t drawn to Grey because he’s dominant. Soft Dom’s use mental dominance over physical dominance, there are people who are curious how to be a soft dom. But because he isn’t normal, He’s frustrating and dangerous and knows when to quit even though he doesn’t, but he isn’t some everyday boring dope who asks her out on everyday boring dates because he everyday boring finds her everyday boring hot. I get that normal is boring, but the fact is, neither Bella nor Ana has ever experienced normal. They turn down all potential suitors, never giving them a chance and seeing what comes of it. I’m sure their authors have, but having a character turn away relationships based on the foresight given to them by the author’s own personal experiences is sloppy writing. These characters haven’t been through those life experiences yet, so the choices and assumptions they make don’t feel natural and realistic.

And who they do choose, wow. Yes, Edward and Grey are different, and extremely hot, and frustrating in a way that I guess can be alluring, but the complete lack of doubt on the part of their respective heroine makes absolutely no sense. There should be more conflict, more requiring of the men to prove themselves instead of dragging out the revelation of their reasons to ridiculous degrees. Here, Grey gives Ana an orgasm when he says he wants to bite the lip she’s always gnawing on, but then continues to go on about how he’s a Dark Knight, not the heroic White Knight she imagines, and refuses to answer her few questions as he tells her to keep eating, then sets a date where he promises to explain it all.

And after all his explaining about how he’s bad and he wants to wait until she knows the truth, what happens when they get in the elevator so she can head to work? He says “fuck it” and forces himself on her. He pins her to the wall with his hips, his erection poking her in the belly, clenches both of her wrists with one hand while using the other to yank her head back by the ponytail, then starts tonguing her tonsils.

On the one hand, this is not the same as when Jose forced himself on her because these two have expressed interest in one another and Grey was the one who wanted to hold off on further contact until he could explain things. On the other, the violence of it so closely mirrors Jose’s attack, and comes just one chapter later, that it just can’t feel anything but uncomfortable. The narration is all about how Ana loves it and wants it and how it makes her feel alive, but all I can think about is how Grey is essentially forcing her to re-enact the attempted rape she experienced the night before. I don’t know if there’s something intentional in this, if “James” is trying to mirror the two events as a statement of how one is “okay” but the other is not, but it could equally as likely be yet another example of sloppy story structure brought on by the fanfic chapter-by-chapter style of writing.

Oh, and Ana totally gets horny over Grey’s toothbrush, fingering its bristles as she imagines them tickling along Grey’s gums. And then she uses it. And Grey gets turned on when he learns she used it.

*facepalm*

Crap Count: 3 uses. With 3 uses of “Holy shit!” to shake things up a little.

But the show must go on, dammit! The last thing this site needs to be known for are projects that go unfinished!

…oh.

Our last chapter ended with Anastasia Steel wrapped in the arms of Mr. Grey just after the bastard saved her from being fatally run over by an oncoming bicycle. We open this chapter with the first thought racing through Ana’s head: “Kiss me dammit!”

Remember how I actually liked her character in the first chapter? How I found her an interesting mix of clumsy instinct and sharp intellect? Apparently the writing of “James” lacks this thing called consistency as Ana’s personality has jumped all over the place in the course of the ensuing chapters. Here, when Mr. Grey rejects her with the Cullenian* standard that she should stay away from him because he’s not good for her, does Ana wonder about the complexities of his past? Or focus on how this echoes her early fears that he’s creepy and dangerous? Or wonder at how this push completely contradicts the past chapters worth of pull?

No. She walks home and cries that he doesn’t want her.

I get it. We all feel a bit bad when we’re rejected by others, even those we’d rather be the ones rejecting. But she literally bursts into tears and sobs that this relationship that never was, that she initially DID NOT WANT, will now never be. Because he’s just so handsome and dashing and the flower swirl in his espresso was ever so lovely. We hear the voice of the old Ana, the one I like, occasionally shouting at herself with an italicised “What were you thinking!” and “How ridiculous!” and “Forget about him!” I want a book with that Ana. The one who’s aware. Not the one lost in the artificial funk of dramatic license puppy love.

So Ana returns home and Kate, being the good friend and capable reporter, instantly notices the puffy eyes and asks “What did that bastard do to you!” Given what I hear happens in later chapters, I now want the book from Kate’s point of view as she goes all Lois Lane and tears Mr. Grey and his organization to the ground, painfully and publicly. Alas, Ana brushes off her mood as being due to the encounter with the cyclist, and Kate pulls a complete reversal, now gushing about Mr. Grey and trying to prod her friend in his direction.

It’s a shame Ana can’t, I don’t know, be honest with her friend and, I don’t know, ask her for advice. Ana’s prose thought bubbles tell us that much of her confusion comes as a result of her lack of experience with men and how she’s often cold and wary of them and how Mr. Grey is like totally different you guys. Kate, on the other hand, has people skills, can read and intuit others, and has more relationship history. If she’s a friend Ana trusts, why not just open up and get a second opinion?

Instead, Kate has Ana read the finished article, which puts Ana in even more of a funk. That night, she dreams of Mr. Grey, his espresso, and his line from the interview, “I don’t do the girlfriend thing.”

Lord help us.

But wait! This chapter isn’t done yet! Noooooooooo!

A week later, Ana is the picture of excitement as she finishes the last of her college exams.

It’s Friday, and we shall be celebrating tonight, really celebrating. I might even get drunk! I’ve never been drunk before.

Yeah, this is gonna end well.

Ana and Kate return to their apartment to find a package from Mr. Grey. Remember in Twilight how Edward wouldn’t stop showing up in Bella’s life, but every time he did, he warned her to stay away? Welcome to the return of that passive-aggressivism as Mr. Grey just can’t seem to move on. Unlike Ana, who, while still having the occasional dream, already seem willing to get over it. Which totally lines up with her reaction earlier in this chapter.

The package contains first editions of all three volume of Tess of the d’Urbervilles, an 1891 novel by Thomas Hardy, which Ana had been studying in class. It’s not a book I’m familiar with, and looking it up, I see it’s about the social struggles of a woman who’s raped by a popular playboy and how that affects her image and eventual marriage, among other things. It sounds like an interesting book, and if anyone’s read it, let me know what you think in the comments section. Anyways, Mr. Grey included a note highlighting a particular passage:

Why didn’t you tell me there was danger? Why didn’t you warn me?

Ladies know what to guard against, because they read novels that tell them of these tricks…

It’s a quote from when the young lead of the book is talking to her mother about the then recent rape.

Everybody please join me in waving the RED FLAG! RED FLAG! RED FLAG!

Yeah, Mr. Grey, let’s totally try to woo a woman in your typical passive-aggressive way by giving her an extremely expensive gift, then highlighting the bit where the young woman was raped by the dashing rich dude.

Seriously! No! Bad! Ick!

And how do the ladies react? Kate whips out her smart phone and finds out how much first editions of these books auction for, and Ana jokes about mailing them back with a quote where Tess essentially told her husband – not the guy who raped her, mind, but her later lover – to fuck off.

And then they go and get drunk. No, this chapter still isn’t over, because we head to the nightclub where Ana and Kate are celebrating their finals with Jose and some dude name Levi. And Ana is totally wasted. Champagne. Followed by five tequila margaritas. Followed by a huge mug of beer. For someone who’s never gotten drunk before, she’s sure going all out. It’s not long before she’s in line for the restroom and decides to fill her hazy boredom by whipping out her phone. And who’s number does she spot? Mr. Grey’s.

That’s right, the highlight of this chapter is Anastasia Steel drunk-dialling Christian Grey.

“Anastasia?”

“Why did you send me the books?”

“Anastasia, are you okay? You sound strange.”

“I’m not the strange one, you are.”

“Anastasia, have you been drinking?”

“What’s it to you?”

[further in]

“You’re so… domineering,” I giggle.

“Ana, so help me, where the fuck are you?”

*facepalm*

After she hangs up and plops herself on the john, noticing the handy “safe sex” poster on the stall door, what she did sinks in so hard that she follows a “holy crap” with a “shit”, which is how you know things are serious. And then he calls her back saying he’s coming for her, which freaks her out even more. Rightfully so.

She rejoins her friends, but is so lightheaded she decides to step out for air. Jose joins her, and this is the scene where I come to loathe Jose because he forces himself on her. He’s drunk, too, and repeatedly says “please” as he forcibly grabs her, grabs her hair, and forces kisses on her. Despite her saying “no” multiple times and trying to push him away.

Dios mio, they sure nixed him early as the third corner of a romantic triangle, because I sure as hell don’t want to read about him again. Oh, and he says “dios mio” a lot. About as often as Ana says “crap”. Because he’s Hispanic and “James” did tons of research about the cultural authenticity of ethnic voices.

With Ana’s protestations ineffective, what finally gets Jose to back off and let her go? Mr. Grey shows up. He and Jose have an epic and manly staredown. Then Ana starts vomiting all over everything, and while Mr. Grey holds her hair back for her, he and Jose continue their epic and manly staredown. Until Jose finally turns away in shame.

Mr. Grey and Ana then have a talk about how irresponsible she’s being and how he wants to drive her home, and instead of carrying the story thread from there, we hearken back to the last chapter, where everything ground to a halt so people could sort out who’s driving home with who. Ana goes back into the bar, insisting she needs to tell Kate before she leaves. Kate has abandoned Levi, though, and has taken to the dance floor with Elliot Grey, Christian’s brother, who’s essentially Emmett Cullen with Jasper’s curly blond hair. And Kate is apparently working it in a way that means they’ll be waking up together the next morning, which has Ana worried and hoping Kate will see the safe sex poster on the bathroom stall door and GOOD LORD I DON’T CARE.

To demonstrate his eagerness to get Ana home, Mr. Grey decides to stop at the bar and force Ana to drink an entire glass of ice water – she dubs him Mr. Control-Freak Grey in this moment, so I shall now call him C.F. Grey – then drags the weak and woozy young woman out on the dance floor for a round of spinning and strobe lights. Solid plan there, C.F.

Oh, and how was it that C.F. Grey found out where Ana was? He hacked the GPS in her phone. That ever distant voice of the awesome Ana screams “STALKER!” in the mind of her weaker willed primary host, but is quickly dismissed as most of this encounter is Ana being all flustered that C.F. Grey is actually holding her hand.

Surprising nobody, Ana passes out after the dancing, and the last thing she hears before hitting the floor are the sweet, elegant words of C.F. Grey as he blurts, “Fuck!”

Can you see why it took me two weeks to write about this shit?

Crap Count: 7 uses. Including our first use of “double crap”. Also, 1 use of “holy cow”.

[* Someone already called dibs on the term “Edwardian”, dammit. Who knew.]

“He was visiting the farming division of WSU. He’s funding some research,” I mutter.

“Oh yes. He’s given the department a $2.5 million grant.”

Wow.

“How do you know this?”

“Ana, I’m a journalist, and I’ve written a profile on the guy. It’s my job to know this.”

“Okay, Carla Bernstein, keep your hair on.”

*facepalm* This dialogue is going to be the end of me, isn’t it.

So, yes, this chapter opens with Kate being ecstatic that Ana is scoring her some photos of the ever elusive Christian Grey, but where ever shall they find a photographer! In an act of monumental stupidity, it actually takes a minute for Kate to suggest Jose, because heaven forbid Ana’s dear old friend, a photographer, shouldn’t instantly come to mind the moment she hears mention of that profession. Anyways, despite he being a photographer of landscapes, not people, Kate blackmails him into doing the shoot and Ana gets all flustered calling Grey to set up the appointment, made all the more flustery by Kate picking up on feelings and poking her friend with them.

This chapter was like trying to drive a race over speedbumps as I finally see a lot of the problems people are having with “James”‘s writing. The above snippet of dialogue is representative of many of the exchanges here, but there’s other aspects that betray a severe lack of editorial guidance.

Scene structure: Ana talks to Kate. Kate suggests calling Jose. Ana turns down Paul when he asks her on a date. Ana calls Jose. Ana talks to Kate.

When a scene takes a turn, typically, one should follow that turn, so why is a bit with Paul, which tells us no more about him and his relationship with Ana than everything that’s already been established so far, dropped between the idea of calling Jose and the actual calling of Jose? For that matter, why have the first part of the conversation with Kate be over the phone and the second done in person. Just make it a single scene. Don’t break it up, preserve the flow, snip out the jarring interlude of “oh, yeah, that Paul guy, whatever”. This could have used an editor.

Cultural Misterminologism: Yes, I made up a word.

She blinks at me with surprise – I very rarely throw my toys out of the pram…

“James” is a British author, so her use of the term pram makes perfect sense. Except this narration is supposed to be in the voice of an American born and raised in the United States. Granted, “I very rarely throw my toys out of the stroller” or “carriage” doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, but still. This could have used an editor.

Crap: This chapter is full of crap. Seriously, not once, not twice, but six times the lead character exclaims either “Crap!” or “Holy crap!” Mostly in her head, of course, but I guess it would be asking too much to replace one or two of those with a simple “wow” or “oh my god” or “zoiks”. This could have used an editor.

Getting back to the story, everyone shows up for the photoshoot. Ana thinks “holy crap” when she sees Christian all decked out in… a white shirt and grey pants. Crap exclamation worthy, indeed. The photoshoot goes well with Kate and Jose all over things, and Jose’s assistant Trevor being all bungly. It ends with Christian giving Ana a “walk with me” as he leaves the room. Bring on more poor scenic flow as we spend two pages with everyone coordinating who’s leaving with what vehicle, ending with Christian taking Ana out for some coffee.

Here’s another editorial oversight: remember the last chapter, where we learned about Ana’s stepdad and mother and husband-number-three? Welcome to redundancy as we hear about them all over again during the conversation between Christian and Ana. In fan fiction, where someone is posting a story one chapter at a time as it’s being written, stuff like this is common place and easy to shrug off, but when going over the completed manuscript for publication as a novel, someone should have seen a sizeable chunk of infodump being repeated over the course of just two chapters. And then trim it from that second chapter, because it’s more relevant here.

Anyways, I really enjoyed the interview from the first chapter, with its focus on the oddball Christian and uncomfortable Ana, for having a lot of clever tension and interplay, but the conversation here is a slog. Not just because of redundant exposition, but there’s no more tension between these two. Christian is much more at ease, no longer carrying the voice and attitude of a certain sultan’s sorcerer, and Ana has completely lost all concerns she had about this dude as she’s head over heals in a puppy dog holy crap crush on him. As they talk about their families – he has a brother and sister who sound an awful lot like Emmett and Alice – all she thinks about is how pretty and dashing he is, and is entranced watching him peel a muffin.

And she drinks tea, not coffee by the way. English tea, bag out. And reads British literature. And desperately wants to visit England. And her laid-back American sports fan dad loves European Soccer and…

Holy crap! “James” is turning her homeland into a Mary Sue!

And then we get some more excellent dialogue with:

“I hear Paris is lovely.”

“It’s beautiful. Have you been?”

Dude, if she’d ever been to Paris, she wouldn’t say she heard it was lovely!

In their conversation, we also learn Christian doesn’t like it when people who aren’t close family or friends call him Christian. Since I have no interest in being friends with this man, I shall henceforth call him Mr. Grey. As opposed to Mr. Buzz-Cut, his assistant. Which is what Ana seriously refers to him as throughout. Mr. Buzz-Cut. Yes.

After their conversation, as they’re getting up to go, Mr. Grey suddenly asks if Ana always wears jeans. I don’t want to know what creepy reveal this is setting up, though I have a vague suspicion it’s his way of asking if she believes in Nair for short shorts. Classy.

You remember that scene in Twilight where Tyler almost pancakes Bella with his van, but Edward swoops in and save her? We have that scene! Ana trips into the road and is pulled back by Mr. Grey before she’s hit by a cyclist!

[pauses to let that soak in]

She didn’t almost get hit by a car or a truck or a van or a bus or a horse and carriage. No, she was almost hit by someone riding a bicycle. Which would hurt, no doubt, but great job setting the potential stakes of her accident, “James”. Very dramatic.

And as he yanks her up from the ground with a “Shit, Ana!”, Mr. Grey pulls her close and she looks up, desperately wanting to kiss him.

Crap, I’ve got to read the next chapter, don’t I. Ceilidh, I blame you for enabling me! And I haven’t even gotten to the juicy stuff yet! Holy crap!

British television executive Erika Leonard, under the name E.L. James, under the name Snowqueens Icedragon, wrote a trilogy of Twilight fan fiction novels titled Master of the Universe which, contrary to expectations, does not re-imagine He-Man as a Sparklepire. Instead, it re-imagines the characters of Bella, Edward, and Jacob in a non-supernatural, adult setting where all the sex they never had has now been replaced with full on jiggies that are gotten with, as well as experimentations in the BDSM realm. If I’m mistaken on any of that setup, again, this is just what I’ve heard, and I’ll be proven correct or in- over the next few weeks.

Leonard James Icedragon put a strike through the Icedragon and settled on James as her nom de plum when she decided to change the names of the lead characters and turn her Twilight AU fic into a piece of published “original” fiction, now known as Fifty Shades of Grey. Much controversy arose. Is this legal? Well, she hasn’t been sued yet, and I hesitate to comment due to some schooling I received recently on fanfic legality. Is this ethical? Well, that’s the question, and I guess it all rests on how ethical you think most publishing in general is.

Argument: She took something that was previously/is still available on the internet for free and now charges people to read a bound version of it.

Well, yes, but people are publishing their blogs all the time these days. Mark Does Stuff and Cleolinda Jones’ Movies in Fifteen Minutes are fine examples. Here at Made of Fail, we have season one of our Deconstructiong Moya: A Farscape Rewatch available for the Kindle for $1.99.

Argument: But it’s based on someone else’s characters. Surely this is plagiarism.

Yes and no. If James had tried to publish it with the names Bella, Edward, and Jacob, she’d likely have about as much luck as LadySybilla had trying to get Russet Noon out there. By changing the elements that came from Twilight, she’s turned it into little more than the typical derivative work that already floods the market, which I’m not knocking, because for every poor regurgitation like Eragon, you get something good like Star Wars, or the films of Quentin Tarantino. Derivative is in itself not a bad thing and doesn’t prevent something from being original in the way it presents its derivations, since TV movies are really popular and people always like to watch TV and even install a tv corner wall mount on their rooms to watch TV from bed as well. As to Fifty Shades of Grey, I hear it’s a highly revisionist take of Twilight with more parallel allusions than it has actual connections. I have read the Twilight books, so this level of connectivity is something I look forward to exploring over the course of this project.

Argument: Leonard was just manipulating Twihards in the first place by taking a largely original work and tying it to Twilight just so she could win herself a pre-existing audience.

Welcome to marketing. When Twilight came out, what came out with it? A flood of derivative works trying to play off the existing Twihard fanbase. This is unethical but that isn’t? No, that’s targeting a market. As long as the work is ultimately good and people like it, no, fans haven’t been tricked. They liked something and someone said “this is similar, give it a try”. If it’s something that legitimately appeals to them, bam, you just exposed a group to something new (relatively speaking). If it doesn’t appeal to them, they’ll spread the word amongst their peers and move on. Is this manipulation? Yes. But it’s acceptable manipulation and common manipulation, and to say it represents a new low in how books are sold is very naive. And it’s worth noting than neither Icedragon James Leonard nor her publishers have ever shied away from admitting the books’ fan fiction origins.

So if Twilight fans felt dissatisfied or tricked, why did they stick with the fanfic as chapter after chapter were released over the course of three volumes? Why did they buy copies once the names had changed and it had been published? Why did they follow it to a new publisher and spread the word and help drum up the interest that’s made the book a best-seller?

In this case, the Twihards are hardly a blind flock that’s been swindled. If you want to debate this in the comments, I’d be happy to hear further arguments, but now it’s time for me to get to the book itself.

Before we move on, however, I want to thank Ceilidh from The Book Lantern and The Sparkle Project for providing me with copies of the series. For this installment, I’m working off the version of Fifty Shades of Grey published by The Writer’s Coffee Shop in 2011. If anyone is aware of any significant differences between this and the 2012 release by Vintage Books, let me know. Additionally, if anyone knows of significant differences – aside from names – between this and the original Master of the Universe, I’d love to find out.

Chapter 1

The book takes place in Seattle. Right off the bat, a surviving Twilight connection. For shame!

Our lead is named Anastasia Steele. Give me a moment to recover from much laughter. Yes, Anastasia Steele. I don’t know about you, but when I see the name Anastasia Steele, I either think of a steampunk wizard setting out to defeat the Snowqueen’s Icedragon in the first volume of her series, or Arnold Schwarzenegger in an 80s buddy action movie where his handler (James Woods) tells him about a missing Russian heir he kinda resembles and, after much shooting, one-liners, and bro high fives as they take out the arms dealer, it turns out YAY HE IS THE RUSSIAN HEIR and we all rejoice to a pop song you’ll never hear again as Arnie takes in a beer and a cigar while barking out laughter at a stripper who finally found the man of her dreams. Anastasia Steele, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger. I dare somebody to photoshop a poster for me.

Anywho, Anastasia Steele (she mostly goes by Ana, but you can imagine the joy I feel typing out Anastasia Steele in full) is just your average girl-next-door college student with attractive features she’s ashamed of (“blue eyes too big for her face”, which I guess is “James” pandering to manga and anime fans, who hold up their hentai and dismiss her with a laugh), hair that just won’t cooperate with her brush in the morning, and a constant struggle with clumsiness. Yes, clumsiness. A surviving Twilight connection. For shame!

Actually, I have to give “James” points on this one. The clumsiness of Bella was nothing. It was tagged on at random points to try to give her a bit of personality, but felt hollow and completely at odds with how Bella acted and was received by others. In this first chapter, Ana’s clumsiness is actually quite charming and genuinely well integrated into her persona. It’s an extension of her constantly rushing into things before yanking back and second guessing herself, something that she demonstrates throughout the entirety of the sequence we’ll get to below. Also, her stumbles and fumbles are well timed and quite funny.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves! Ana’s roommate, Katherine Kavanagh (“James” needs help naming people… seriously) is a writer for the campus newspaper and finally scored a prized interview with the “enigmatic CEO of Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.”, a manufacturing giant whose head is a benefactor of the University and will be presenting diplomas that year. Unfortunately, Kate is all kinds of sick at the moment. Even though she still looks “gamine and gorgeous”. Wait, “gamine”? What the hell does “gamine” mean?

Wikipedia:

“A gamine is a slim, often boyish, wide-eyed young woman who is, or is perceived to be, mischievous, teasing or sexually appealing.”

That’s new to me, but okay.

Due to Kate being sick, Ana decides to go and do the interview in Kate’s place. And, no, before you wonder, there’s no mistaken identity hijinks like I briefly expected there to be. Everyone she encounters at this massive company is perfectly fine with one person showing up for someone else’s appointment, without anything in the way of background checks or confirmation calls. Sure, fine, whatever, move on in.

After being stunned by the office building and view, and noting how all of the beautiful blond female employees look like Stepford Wives – except for that black man who is neither blond nor female – Ana walks into the office for her interview and falls flat on her face.

And then we meet the Edward Cullen of this book: Christian Grey. And, yes, he’s a stunningly beautiful man with eyes that match his last name, who Ana is shocked to see is closer to her own age than the older executive she was expecting to meet. And, no, there’s not much Twilight here. He doesn’t have any of the visible hunger issues of Edward, doesn’t go all weird when her smell walks into the room. He’s a laid back coil of control, constantly staring at her over steepled hands and alternating between flat, steely expressions and cold smiles.

Here’s where I give this book another point: there is no love at first sight. There might be on the side of Grey, but he’s so impossible to read it’s anyone’s guess. On Ana’s, she notes his attractiveness, but her focus never wavers from his arrogance and she repeatedly thinks of him as a control freak. Hell, she says it to his face. And she’s not wrong, as Grey reads like some watered down, romanticized John Galt wanna be, spouting off about the power he’s amassed through his own hard work and genius. He’s the kind of guy who refuses to give up total ownership of his company because that means a board he has to answer to, who lives by Carnegie’s philosophy “A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled.” Which is going to be interesting to explore as this book goes along, because what are the boundaries of “justly entitled”? There’s a lot of rational wiggle room around this phrase that can lead someone in power like this to “justify” their entitlement over just about anything. This is raising a little red flag, but I’ll wait and see. Even though he quickly follows it up by saying, yes, he likes possessing things, but wants to deserve to possess them. Hmmm.

Ana is allured by this man, but again, I stress how impressed I am that it’s not “love at first sight”. She’s bothered by him, by the way he carries himself, the way he talks, the way he turns the interview around on her. She’s already flustered because she’s out of her element both in terms of doing an interview and being in a place like this, and all he does is increase her discomfort. And that’s the key word: discomfort. She’s not comfortable here. Not in a “stranger danger, mace the dude and run” type of way, but in terms of just being weirded out. Even as she’s leaving near the end, she notes his attractiveness once more, but labels it a distraction and once again focuses on her misgivings over his ego and entitlement. She has the animal urge that says “he pretty”, yes, but it’s subdued as her rational mind recognizes that urge for what it is and compartmentalizes it away so she can keep focusing on the issue at hand.

We’re only one chapter in and I like this character. Unlike Bella, we aren’t opening with an air of undeserved focus and importance. As I mentioned above, she has a deeper personality tie to clumsiness, that of instinct followed by second guessing, which was just demonstrated again by her animal mind followed by rational mind. Throughout the interview, she goes off the scripted questions and starts challenging Christian on issues like his philanthropy, his philosophy, his adoption (a surviving Twilight connection – for shame!), second guessing herself, but not before the questions are out there. And this actually has an effect in that she has a bluntness that cuts through the bullshit, followed by an intellectual examination of the results it brings. It’s really quite a lot of fun to read, and I doubt it was unintentional on the part of “James”, because it’s consistent throughout the chapter. Whether it remains consistent throughout the book is another matter, but we’ll get there when we get there.

Near the end of the chapter, Christian goes from weird to a little creepy when he suddenly starts trying to sell Ana on interning for him. You know, like those blonds she noted outside, one of whom frowned at another who didn’t offer up refreshments in an oddly tense scene that you just know is going to have heaps of back room drama behind it. He then cancels a meeting to prolong their interview, but Ana finally wants out and bids him farewell. Christian isn’t done with her, yet, though. No, he doesn’t let her get her jacket or ask his secretary to get her jacket, he asks his secretary to get the jacket and give it to him so he himself can place it on Ana, ending with his hands resting on her shoulders. Bad touch! No!

And is Ana finally won over by this? No! She literally thinks “I really need to get out of here,” finding mercy when the elevators close on his blazing stare. This dude is fucking creepy, and lo and behold, we have a protagonist who feels the same way.

Please, please don’t screw this up.

So yes, I’m kinda liking this. It’s a nice opening chapter that gets a lot of setup out of the way and clearly establishes our leads. One is a surprisingly well executed woman who has endearing flaws and a good head on her shoulders that lets her recognize that the other is a complete creepwad. Which, of course, is why the book is about her falling in love with him. D’oh! Seriously, though, I’ll wait and see how they get there and judge it accordingly, but I have no issues with the introductions. The first person present tense prose isn’t great, but neither is it poor, and despite a few clunky lines here and there – mostly transitions and descriptions, the occasional exchange – it flows pretty well and the interview scene especially succeeded in drawing me into things.

I’m curious to see how this plays out. But, wow, those names. I swear, Christian Grey sounds like it should be the inhabitant of a born-again UFO.

Chapter 2

*sigh* Well, so much for that. Let me get a few things out of the way before elaborating that point.

This chapter expands on the broader points of Ana’s life, and the parallels to Twilight are a little more blatant.

• Bella’s mom is a bit flighty, but means well, and lives in Arizona with her second husband.
• Ana’s mom is a bit flighty, but means well, and lives in Georgia with her third husband.
• Bella’s father, a cop, loves his daughter, but doesn’t connect with her very much, speaks in hesitant grunts, and spends his free time fishing or watching sports on tv.
• Ana’s step-father (husband number two), a carpenter, loves his daughter, but doesn’t connect with her very much, speaks in hesitant grunts, and spends his free time fishing or watching sports on tv.
• Bella reads very well known and obvious classical literature.
• Ana reads classical British literature.
• Bella has a part time job in a fishing and hunting store, selling things she has no interest in.
• Ana has a part time job in a home improvement and construction store, selling things she has no interest in.
• Bella bites her lip.
• Ana bites her lip.

For shame!

Oh, and Jacob finally shows up. Jose, a Hispanic photographer, is a little different from the Native American mechanic in that he’s already an old friend of Ana, but he’s otherwise totally Jacob in that his dad and her step-dad are old buddies, and he’s long been the “friend who wants something deeper” who just keeps refusing to take the hint that she’s not interested. Thankfully, his portrayal is that of pre-fursplosion Jacob, before the most charming character in Stephanie Meyer’s series went the total raging d-bag route. Anyways, he’s all chummy and a gallery is going to be displaying some of his photos later, so either we’ll be there or Ana will miss out in a “creating drama” type of way. We’ll see.

Oh, and Katherine, poor sick Katherine, is ecstatic about all the interview material because this is going to be her last issue of the college magazine before she graduates. So yay. But her observations on the recording lead us to the turn I’m experiencing.

Okay, so Ana still totally has that rational mind telling her Christian Grey is a creepy, bizarre, arrogant control freak, but the instinct side of her is completely turned on. That little voice that kept whispering “he pretty” in the first chapter has now becoming a massive musical number of teenage girls giddily gossipping about how Hugo pinned Kim. It’s brushed off at first as her merely being “fascinated” by him, but she’s in total swoon mode and hating herself for it. In the last chapter, she wanted to get the hell out of there, and now she’s lost in his dreaminess before her rational mind hits her with a baseball bat and she moves on. But, hey, she’ll never have to see him again, so it’s not a –

And then he shows up at her job. Yes, just spontaneously appears before her at the home improvement and construction store, says he’s in the area, and proceeds to toy with her and her fumbling and Jell-O like legs as he purchases plastic ties, rope, and duct tape. Gee, I wonder what those will be used for later.

Seriously, she is seconds away from swooning at every line he delivers which, yeah he’s pretty, feels ridiculous because his entire manner screamed that of a certain someone. His lean frame. His thin fingers tapping on his chin in thought or softly reaching for her. His blazing glare. His stiff frowns and smiles. The way every line oozes out of him as either a manipulation or a challenge. I dare you, I dare all of you, to read this encounter between Christian and Anastasia and not imagine him as this:

I mean, sure, Christian is described as significantly handsomer than the sorcerer destined for an itty-bitty living space, but the attitude, the mannerisms, the voice are so totally there. I’m suddenly terrified that, instead of imagining RPatz in the upcoming sexual encounters, the face you see above will instead be the one filling my mind’s eye as the voice that comes with it slithers out dirty talk and moans.

*shiver*

And that rational part of Ana’s mind, which kept her sane and grounded and made her so likeable in the first chapter? It’s packed its suitcases and run home to mama, because the last paragraph opens with:

Okay – I like him. There, I’ve admitted it to myself. I cannot hide from my feelings anymore. I’ve never felt like this before. I find him attractive, very attractive.

Instead of focusing on why the hell he suddenly showed up at her place out of the blue, why he bought such a “random” group of items, why he keeps teasing and pressing her obviously vulnerable emotions, nope, that rational side just throws its hands in the air and says to the animal side “You want him? Go for it.”

A couple other things worth mentioning before we close out this chapter. First, we have our Mike Newton! Whoo! The lovable lunkhead that haplessed millions of hearts in the Twilight books is now represented by Paul Clayton, whose older brother owns the store. He’s obviously attached to Ana, wrapping her in a big hug and spending the rest of his scene with an arm drapped around her, but he’s been gussied up to a dashing man home from studying at Princeton. Take that Mike Newton! Paul and Christian instantly get along, meaning they tensely shake hands while sizing one another up. Then Paul disappears and I’m doubting we’ll have a parallel to him getting sick while seeing Face Punch.

Secondly, one thing Kate forgot to ask for with her article on Christian was an original photo. Well, guess who’s free to have his picture taken the next day. And guess who’s just been established as having a friend and wanna-be lover who’s a photographer. Those are some sparks promising to fly.

I’m conflicted. I quite dug the first chapter, but Ana lost me in the second and I can’t get over the ridiculous portrayal of Christian Grey. It’s not awful, not yet at least, and I’ll wait and see how it goes. I’ll say this, though: I’m enjoying Ana as a person more than I ever did Bella. She’s more interesting, more real. She already feel defined instead of a blank waiting for Edward to define her. I’ve got to give it that for the moment, but again, we’ll see.

Let the joyous dance battle over the man seed begin!

In our first installment, we learned about the former Soviet nation of Karistan, which has been reclaimed by its native tribes of nomadic warriors, who also recovered the coding device to several still active nuclear missile silos they’re using to hold back any advance from their neighboring enemies in Balminsk. The elderly chieftain of Karistan has recently died, leaving control of the device and his people to his granddaughter Alexandra Jordan, who had, till now, been working as a noted fashion designer in Philadelphia.

Hoping to avert a nuclear disaster, the clandestine US department OMEGA orders Agent Nate Sloan – codename: Cowboy – to infiltrate the Karistan people by bringing them the gift of a prize-winning breeder horse, Three Bars Red. While he’s doing this, Agent Maggie Sinclair – codename: Chameleon – will go undercover and join a UN nuclear exploratory committee heading into Balminsk.

Nate shows up in Karistan, being all “aw shucks” and cowboy like in his jeans and denim as he starts eying Alexandra, is eyed by her cousin Katerina, and is given a lot of vodka by the guys. In Balminsk, Maggie, the master of disguise, has nerded herself up with makeup and is instantly fed up with the UN committee leader, nuclear physicist Richard Worthingon, a gangly mama’s boy who keeps tripping on things and beating Maggie up by accident.

Back at the camp, Nate takes advantage of a quiet moment alone with Alexandra to shove her against a wall, pin her arms to her sides, and forcefully kiss her, calmly smiling and shrugging when she threatens to have him flayed should that ever happen again.

Suddenly, people start screaming!

Let’s dive into Chapters 5-8 of The Cowboy and the Cossack!

So, about those screams we left off on. It seems Three Bars Red cantered his way into the main ladies’ tent and it knocking it all over the place as he bumps and swivels through some shenanigans within. Now, before you all start imagining a Tijuana horse show involving crusty lube and an aging hooker all too eager to demonstrate her love of animals, I must stress that his actions are completely innocent. It’s his notorious sweet tooth that’s the real culprit here as he forces himself on a helpless jar of freshly gathered honey. Nate gets Three Bars Red under control and out of the tent, then helps Alexandra start sorting through the mayhem. Which, of course, includes him saying suggestive things while taking the opportunity to get his hands all over her lacy undergarments. Because that’s totally the perfect capper to a sequence that included him sexually assaulting her.

During this is a nice bit of introspection as Alexandra thinks back on her parents and the two worlds that led to her being. The chieftain grandfather of tradition and warrior strength, the economist father of modern business and logical reasoning, the mother pulled back and forth between the two until their animosity grew to the point where she said hell with it and left with her husband. I’m a little disappointing that her mother’s life was so heavily defined by the men within it, but we have to be honest and acknowledge that, while not the most progressive of situations, it is something some people honestly do find themselves in. And look at the great character that came as a result: Alexandra. She’s strong, intelligent, with ties to both old and new worlds. A few pages later, she’s pondering the life she once forged for herself and how her knowledge of traditional ways benefited her then, just as the things she knows about modern society help her now. We were all a little iffy on the idea of a fashion designer from Philadelphia becoming the leader of a nomadic tribe descended from the Cossacks, but I’m really impressed and how thoughtfully she’s been fleshed out and executed, using the fashion industry as a reflection of her diametric views, two ways of the world fused through a single expressive viewpoint.

But then we get to the next big twist. After having a meeting with the women of the tribe, Alexandra approaches Nate and tells them her people will accept the American offer of a breeding stud. But they don’t want the horse. They want Nate.

I probably should have prefaced this by saying the majority of the tribe is female, with many of the men lost in the civil wars following the collapse of the Soviet Union, and those remaining being old battle scarred vets the ladies aren’t all that interested in. So, of course, they now leap at the opportunity to fawn over Nate en masse while he has to choose whether or not it’s within his mission parameters to offer up a little seed to help this tribe repopulate with some fresh blood, all while the one lady he’s really interested in still won’t give him the time of day. Before you can say harem, the ladies are competing for the opportunity to be his prospective wife by gorging him on food and doing all manner of chores without his request, heaping up shapely amounts of cleavage while they’re at it. Surprisingly, Nate brushes most of it off, though he does have the classic “I can’t believe they actually acknowledged it” line of:

“You want to tell me how I progressed overnight from a potential rapist who had to be warned off with threats of being flayed alive to the prize in the Crackerjack box?”

Meanwhile, in Balminsk, Maggie and Richard head their UN convoy through a wooded pass. By heading the convoy, I mean they’re waaaaay far ahead because of the reckless speeding of the local driver. Realizing they passed their turn a half hour back, Maggie forces the driver to stop so she can sneak into the woods for a tinkle and to call Nate. She has a laugh over his predicament, but returns to the car to find Richard with a gun to his head. Holding the gun is Nikolas Chartoff, a local ex-Soviet general and son of the local leader, the White Wolf of Balminsk. Once documentation proves our heroes are the expected UN team, Nikolas lets up on the gun and escorts them into town.

Dammit. I was hoping for some sparks to fly in an unexpected and refreshing romance between the capable spy Maggie and charmingly befuddled scientist Richard, but no. We’ve got Nikolas. With his smoldering air of authority and dark, dashing good looks (enhanced by a scar on his chin, of course) you just know he’s the one destined to be on the receiving end of Maggie’s lingering glances. I’m holding out hope that something happens to take the story in an unexpected direction, but it’s a tiny hope. These books aren’t really known for bucking trends.

Back to Nate. Alexandra and the men of the tribe, with their expertise in American barn construction, decide to take Nate out riding to put him through his paces and see what he’s made of. This means challenging he and Three Bars Red to a race weaving through narrowly spaced trees, then to see who can ride to a stream, gather water, and ride back the fastest. The natives, all horseriders to an expert degree Nate can only dream of, totally kick his ass, taking trophies in the form of ballcap and silver belt buckle, but they still applaud his effort and skill. In fact, a recurring theme throughout this section is Alexandra noticing how Nate is fitting in a bit better than she is. I know the title of the book caught many a curious eye, but Cowboys and Cossacks aren’t really all that different, both living quiet lives on the plains with their horses and hard work getting them through the day. Nate’s fitting in fine, whereas Alexandra is thinking of her life outside. No, she’s not thinking about money and comfort, but rather the way someone can feel like they’re tied into and affecting the world as a whole instead of being tucked away in an isolated corner. Which is probably the draw that led her to the nuclear coding device and the big political play she’s planning in her head.

This is where the book is at its strongest, in establishing interesting, deep characters, dropping them in a rich, thoroughly researched world, then finding ways to weave their motivations in and out of one another. Where it’s at its weakest is the espionage plot, which really hasn’t taken off yet at all (half way through the book by this point) and the forced inclusion of bodice ripping tropes. We’ve already covered the disturbingly forceful kiss. Give me a minute, and we’ll get to another eye-roller.

A sudden storm blows in and one of the tribe’s horses, startled by thunder, falls into the river. Nate follows along the shore as it’s dragged by the current until it get snagged up in a tree, albeit on on the other side of the river. Alexandra jumps the river with Nate on her heels, and she secures a rope while he climbs out on the tree, lassos the horse, and tears away branches until it’s freed. With the storm in full force, and Alexandra soaked from an accidental dip she took in the waters, they’ll have to wait before again crossing the river, so she waves her tribesmen back to the village and she, Nate, and the horses take shelter under an overhang.

Yes, this is the obligatory “we need to get out of these wet clothes” scene. Nate peels off his shirt and mud filled boots. Alexandra sheds everything but her lacy underwear (both the author and Nate are quick to note the visibility of her puckered nipples through the fabric) before she huddles under her heavy coat. So they talk a bit, clean the horses, then he decides to warm her toes up with a sensuous foot massage while he talks about how he’d rub old Wily Willie’s bruised feet after rodeos. Yes, men, talking about rubbing old men’s feet is the perfect icebreaker to set the mood on a damp wasteland night.

As his fingers move from her feet to her calves, talk turns to questions of why Nate never married, then they talk some more about his assault of her and she teases him a bit with talk of how her peoples’ whips cut through skin. And that’s when it happens: Nate gets a boner. Literally, his penis pops to attention, causing Alexandra to finally pull away and Nate to awkwardly cross his legs as he starts fuming to himself about how he’s losing focus on the mission.

I’m still mostly enjoying this book. I like the characters, I like the prose, I like the bits of world-building and history that come into play. There is still that troubling assault, but it’s acknowledged here, with Nate flat out stating what his actions looked to be, and getting into his head of him finding the self justification needed to achieve the missions goals. It doesn’t defend his actions, nor find a way to make them right, but it does admit they’re part of the ethical grey zone of espionage. More troubling is why Alexandra never did anything about it, but it’s the one flaw in her otherwise strong and compelling character.

I’m really quite eager to check out Part 3. I promise it won’t be delayed as long as this one was. But before that you can take a look at staustinreview for more information on improving men’s health. Also, consider to explore how to use CBD to relieve stress, as it can be a valuable tool in maintaining emotional well-being.

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Well, that’s not entirely true. My very first, and most definitely bad (note the lack of very), was the Twilight saga (yes, I’ve read all four), but that’s a discussion for another day. For now, I’m here to suffer for your pleasure through a novel entitled The Cowboy and the Cossack.

Getting some initial predictions out of the way, I bet we can all guess where the Cowboy aspect will go. He’ll be a dashing dude in boots and a wide-brimmed hat who squints and talks in a very clipped, tight-lipped manner and smolders at the woman when she brings some brightness to his dusty life. As for the Cossack, I haven’t got a clue. Like most of my fellow Yanks, when I hear the word Cossack, the first thing that springs to mind is this:

I can do without the swords, but if I don’t get some spinning leaps and squat kicks during a sex scene, I’ll be sorely disappointed.

The cover clearly establishes the male Cowboy, with his jeans, boots, and saddled horse, but I’m trying to figure out how a very bare female leg, complete with anklet chain, that looks like it just walked off the Santa Cruz Boardwalk evokes a Cossack. I doubt it, but maybe there’s a cultural tie to the way he’s feeling up her thigh.

There’s a synopsis on the back, but why spoil the fun. Let’s dive right in!

Prologue

In the fictional former Soviet nation of Karistan (no relation to the rugs), two shadowy figures huddle close together in a tent. Before you start having your dirty thoughts, one is a dying old man who fought with and led his people to reclaim their tribal land on the windswept steppes following the collapse of the USSR. The other is his granddaughter, Alexandra, summoned from her modern home in Philadelphia. She is now the last of the chieftain bloodline and her grandfather passes on leadership of the tribe to her. Along with an ancient saddle bit and a mysterious high-tech black box.

So far, so good. It’s compelling and sweeps me up in Alex’s dilemma while filling me with enough questions to keep me turning the page. And the prose isn’t all that bad, with fine passages like:

The golden eyes glazed, then rolled back in their sockets. Alex sat back on her heels, ignoring the ache in her fingers from his agonizing hold, unmindful of the fact that she hadn’t eaten or slept in two days of hard traveling to reach his side. She wanted to scream at him not to leave her, not to desert these people who needed him so desperately. She wanted to run out of the smothering black tent and fly back to Philadelphia, to her own world and all that was familiar. But she did none of these things. With the stoicism he himself had taught her, Alexandra watched her grandfather die.

It nicely captures the conflicts in a person’s mind as someone she’s just reconnected with is yanked away from her forever, casting her into a situation that forces her to completely alter everything she might have expected her future to be.

Can it be that this book isn’t actually bad?

Chapter 1

In the embassy district of Washington, DC, a normal looking townhouse hides the secret headquarters of OMEGA, a top secret task force brought in “when other, more established organizations such as the CIA, the FBI, the State Department or the military couldn’t respond for legal or political reasons.” Yes, because we know the CIA always cares about politics and legality, especially when it comes to things like our current plot.

Despite the nuclear disarmament of the past, the Soviets never got around to completely dismantling their nukes before their collapse, leaving several primed missile silos in outskirt regions, like, for example, the open plains of Karistan. A UN inspection found that the arming devices for several of the missiles has gone missing and, gee, I wonder what that little high tech box was that Alexandra inherited from her grandfather. Anyway, the US is worried about the ancient feud between Karistan and their neighboring country, Balminsk, so two of the top OMEGA agents have been summoned.

Sprawled with his usual loose-limbed ease in a wingback chair, Nate Sloan shrugged. “Never heard of the place, unless it’s where those fancy rugs come from. You know, the thick, fuzzy kind you can’t even walk across without getting your spurs all tangled up in.”

And we have our cowboy! Seriously, my prediction wasn’t far off as he’s a blond, tanned, drawling dude in boots, jeans, and a denim coat who owns a small ranch north of Cheyenne and constantly recites words of wisdom he learned from ol’ Wily Willie. The only departure from my checklist is that, instead of a cowboy hat, he wears a Denver Broncos ballcap. But his code name seriously is Cowboy.

The other agent is named Chameleon. Really Maggie Sinclair, she’s an expert linguist and master of disguise, traits that allow her to easily blend into native populations. And it’s good she has those skills because “her technical knowledge of nuclear missiles was limited to the fact that they were long and pointy. She’d be the first to admit she didn’t know plutonium from Pluto.” It’s comforting to know that a task force that outranks the CIA and FBI doesn’t give all of its agents training in nuclear weaponry.

We learn a bit more about Alexandra, last name now revealed to be Jordan. Her mother was the daughter of the chief, her father an American economist with World Bank. The two met while the woman studied at a city college and they ran away to America together, which didn’t sit well with the old chief, who almost blew his son-in-law’s head off at one point. We hear nothing more about her parents, so I don’t know if they’re dead or not. I’m presuming the mother is, otherwise she would have showed up in the prologue.

Oh, and Alexandra is also a world-famous fashion designer, specializing in native horsetail belts, which Maggie geek flails about as she stands up and shows off one of the belts, which she happens to be wearing. It’s a silly scene, but it follows an equally ridiculous bit where Nate hops up with a “Whooo-eee!” when he learns the government wants to appeal to the Karistanians through the gift of a world-famous breeding horse that Nate is a total fanboy of.

Our agents head off to prep and pull a team together. Nate will escort the horse, Three Bars Red, to Alexandra’s tribal village and oversee negotiations. Maggie will head into neighboring Balminsk, which has her bummed because she doesn’t get to meet her favorite designer.

So there you have it, the setup of our story. It’s… interesting. From the cover, I never would have expected the international intrigue, the trading of a top breeding racehorse, nor the potential of nuclear war, but I kinda dig it. It’s silly, but Lovelace appropriately plays it a bit tongue-in-cheek.

What’s most refreshing is that I totally feared the presence of Maggie would drop us in a love triangle, but not only is she not in a relationship with Nate, there’s absolutely no sign of any romantic tension there. At all. Sure, he gives her a few winks and calls her sweetheart, but in a way that lets you know that’s how he treats all the ladies. She mostly ignores it, but does find it annoying and calls it out as outdated, even perfectly describing him as a Malboro Man. So, yeah, it totally gets points for not instantly dropping into swoons as it introduces our male lead as a pretty normal, realistically flawed dude. And we get a little past in that Maggie went through a failed marriage before becoming an agent, and Nate once fell in love with an Irish operative who died when a mission went bad.

Chapter 2

During their flight to Karistan, Nate bonds with Three Bars Red, who has a notorious sweet tooth and will dig into anything he feels might be hiding a candy bar.

“Just make sure you don’t set them down within sniffing distance […] or you’ll have twelve hundred pounds of horseflesh in your lap, trying to get to them.”

Please, please tell me the horse doesn’t form part of a love triangle.

The guide grunted at about the same moment the powerful muscles in Red’s shoulders rippled under Nate’s thighs.

[…]

He never flinched, never skittered off course. His massive hindquarters bunching, he leaned into the breast harness with every ounce of power he possessed.

Note to romance authors: it might not be the best idea to describe interactions with animals the same way you would a love scene.

These awkward bits aside, there is some great descriptive text in this section as Nate and Three Bars Red meet up with a guide and take in the scenic plains and mountainscapes of Karistan, which Nate finds very reminiscent of Wyoming. When he sees a stray steer heading for a cliff, Nate rides into action, taking the bull down with some fancy lasso work. He’s rewarded for his efforts with a rifle to his head. Held by none other than our Cossack: Alexandra Jordan.

“You’re very close to learning how to dance, Cossack-style. If this steer has been lamed, you might yet!”

Make her day, punk. There’s very little sexualizing of her character as she’s covered in baggy native gear with a rifle and bandolier. It’s a little odd, given how they’ve gone out of their way to set her up as a fashion designer from Philadelphia, but I like how she’s presented as strong, sharp, capable, and respected as a leader among her people. The one and only bit of cheesecake comes from Nate constantly checking out her ass every time the wind blows her baggy garments against her skin. But while he’s instantly drawn to the woman, she’s instantly sick of his macho drawl and thick headedness. The steer that was about to go over the cliff? Actually headed for an incline leading down to a watering hole, which we see it and the rest of the herd walk with ease.

So we’ve got our Cowboy and our Cossack, and both are finally together as they head toward her village Accompanied by an erotically described race horse.

Chapter 3

I didn’t mention Adam Ridgeway back in Chapter 1. He’s the director of OMEGA who briefed the agents on their mission. There wasn’t much more too him at that point, but here, when Maggie swings by the office again before taking off for Balminsk, she catches sight of him in a suit, all polished up for an ambassador’s diner, and her heart skips a beat. Yep, Maggie’s got the hots for her boss and, at the end of the scene, it’s suggested he’s got a thing for her, too.

However, that’s not what the scene is about. Before heading out, Maggie’s been struggling to find a babysitter. No, she isn’t a single mom with a child for one of our character to “shockingly” be revealed as the father of. She has a German shepherd-size iguana named Terence.

Let me say this again: A German shepherd-sized. Iguana. Named Terence. Who likes to “blow kisses” with his yard-long tongue and shove his head up ladies’ skirts. Looking it up, yes, there are Iguanas that can get that big. Mostly in tropical regions and the book does point out that she smuggled Terence into the country after she came across him on a mission.

With Terence in the hands of a co-worker who owed her after she watched his twins (the book goes out of its way to mention how much the 32-year-old agent would still love to have bunches of her own children one day), she heads to the airport all nerded up – bushy brows, blemished skin, Coke-bottle glasses – as a geologist accompanying a UN survey mission of the nuclear missile silos. She’s suddenly attacked, knocked to the ground with a knee to her stomach and “a rather sensitive area of her female anatomy.”

It’s not an assassin. It’s nuclear physicist Richard Worthington, the head of the team. Don’t go forming any pictures in your mind of a dashing professor type. No, Dr. Worthington is a dork in the classic sense: a socially and physically awkward young man stumbling all over his gangly limbs and stuck in the shadow of a battle axe mother who pushed bearing way being the point of over after her little child prodigy was kidnapped at age six, which resulted in the loss of a pinkie tip. His violent introduction to Maggie was him tripping yet again on whatever’s in the immediate era, which is followed by a shrieking, soprano assault of “I’m sorry! Are you okay! I’m sorry!”

My prediction: love is in the air between the undercover agent and the man experienced in science, but not in life. You can tell this by the several points where she considers killing him and he talks about his mother and how itchy a beard can get.

Chapter 4

Alexandra leads Nate into the camp village. Three Bars Red is secured and Nate is given a tent where he’s bunking with Petr Borodin, a bearded, one-armed old military vet with a chest covered in medals. Nicknamed Peter the Great by Nate, he’s assigned to tail the American and make sure the dude doesn’t wander around or outside the camp. Oh, and he has Vodka.

The other character we meet is Katerina, Alexandra’s voluptuous cousin who takes an instant liking to Nate and makes several attempts to lure him away so as to ride him like a certain prize-winning breeding horse we’ve met. Alexandra keeps breaking the two up and takes Nate aside to fill him in on what would be considered improper conduct among her people.

Taking advantage of their momentary privacy, Nate presses Alexandra against a wall, pins her arms to her side, and forcefully starts to kiss her.

And that, friends, is where the book turned on me. Up until this point, I was feeling guilty for making this the subject of such a blog, because it certainly wasn’t bad. The setup was unique, the characters distinct and memorable, the writing itself pretty good with a nice tongue-in-cheek dash of wit to push through the sillier aspects.

But then this happened.

I have two massive issues with this scene. Let’s start with the lesser. I buy that Nate is a spy and he sometimes has to do unethical things in the name of his job, but this is not one of those times. The mission is to find the box with the arming codes and the first thing he should be trying to do is win the favor of the local political leader so she’ll want to help, want to do something that, while lessening her international leverage, will guarantee that no nukes go off. By forcing himself on her just a few hours after they met, he’s essentially taken his mission and shot it in the testicle.

The second massive issue is that Alexandra goes with it. You’d expect her to say “no”, fight back, whip out the knife we see a couple of scenes later, call her villagers to drag this dudebro out into the desert and execute him where his bones will never be found, but no. She doesn’t add anything on her end, but nor does she fight him off, and when he finally lets her go, she just tells him never to do that again, then takes a stroll with him as he talks about his old mentor, Wily Willie.

No, it’s not the almost-rape from The Virile Viking which sent Kevin over the edge, but I hear this kind of “bodice ripping sensual thrill” runs rampant through the romance genre, where a forced, non-consensual act is ultimately okay as long as it feels good while it’s happening. And that’s exactly what’s going through Alexandra’s head when it happens. She had no physical interest in this man before the action, but her loins are all aflutter now that it’s been done.

What’s most disappointing is that Alexandra had been quite an awesome character to this point. She’s skilled with a knife and a rifle, an excellent rider, and perfectly at home in this native village where she’s the firm and respected leader. And they didn’t fully butch her up as she’s still wearing tailored clothes from her fashion designer past, albeit ones that are impressively practical given the climate. But according to this book, all a strong woman in power needs is to be put in her place by someone who doesn’t respect her authority. That she’ll not only go with it, but she’ll actively desire a man rescuing her from an alpha position.

I might be getting a little ahead of myself as we still need to see where the story ultimately goes, but this was a pretty lousy note to end our first installment on.

Oh, wait. The cliffhanger. There’s a scream in the village that everyone runs towards. End of chapter.

So that wraps up part one of The Cowboy and the Cossack. It was a surprising amount of fun to begin with, and I am intrigued to see where it goes, but it just couldn’t rescue itself from that damn genre cliché that cut it down at the knees just after it bought itself so much good will.

*sigh*

And, no, that’s not a sigh of unbridled passion. It’s a sigh of fully bridled passion. Seriously, I’m wearing a saddle. Someone ride me like there’s no tomorrow and feel the powerful muscles in my shoulders rippling under your thighs.

No takers? Damn. Well, it worked for Three Bars Red.

Apologies for the wait. Between a heavily reduced ability to internet from work, an upswing in personal responsibilities, and an impending interview, I’ve been a bit strapped for review time.

Basically, I’ve started writing a story, getting ready for the North American Discworld Convention in a week or so, continued to work on Deconstructing Moya (which has been getting really good you guys), recorded our third anniversary episode for Made of Fail… I’ve been busy.

This book has been interesting so far. The characters are defined, the plot immediately presents itself without a false start, and what’s even more impressive is that the author knows how to use adjectives, and more importantly, how to stop. Color me impressed.

However, I’ve only read the first chapter. So away we go!

After all the craziness of the previous night, Lucas awakes in his apartment, surprised to find that he’d been thinking of that woman all night. This is totally out of character for him; he’s never been even the slightest amount of interested in anything before!

He consciously willed himself not to get interested in any woman. He had his work and his sister and that’s all he’d ever really needed.

Because what’s love when compared to the thrill of repossessing airplanes? I mean, I love my fiancée and all, but if I had the choice between marrying her and stealing airplanes for a living? Trekkiegirl would understand.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that…”

While Lucas meanders about, waxing expositional about his sex life (lack thereof) and the strange reaction to the bloody and bruised pregnant woman (hubba hubba, apparently), he tries to figure out what to do about the Jane Doe down the hall in his sister’s apartment.

Of course, Jane herself isn’t much help in that regard. What with having The Pregnesia and all, she’s been a tearful wreck. The soft vulnerability and tears continue to undermine Lucas’s gruff facade, dredging up feelings of protectiveness and maternal favor that were hitherto unrealized within our Badass Airplane Thief, feelings which of course he isn’t having, how could anyone think he was feeling this, what the hell.

Tears welled up in her eyes once again. “I can’t believe how kind you’re being to me.”

He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t him, that his sister was the kind one. He was the cynical one who still didn’t know whether to believe her or not.

But for the moment he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. If she was lying, then sooner or later he would know. If she was telling the truth, then he sure as hell didn’t want to be responsible for tossing a pregnant woman out on the streets all alone with no money and no memory.

While he gruffly makes her breakfast (scrambled eggs, this is not a metaphor for anything whatsoever) and struggles with his attraction to her (“She obviously had a man in her life. And in any case, Lucas didn’t do relationships.”), she carefully posits that she has a possible feeling that she might in fact be in a tiny spot of trouble. Maybe. Just a bit.

Lucas responds with his still-percolating theory that Jane had gotten into a fight with her husband/boyfriend/whatever and is hiding until she can go back to him to “kiss and make up”. They banter back and forth a bit between the basics: She says she wouldn’t stay with someone abusive and maybe she fell down some stairs, he says that if that was the case she’d have scrapes on her hands and knees and also blunt objects were involved.

In any case, it’s time to Go To Wal-Mart And Get Some Clothes, since she’s going to be staying with Loretta for at least a few days longer. What is it with romance novels and going to Wal-Mart? I mean sure, there’s a bunch of them in this country, and it’s probably a quick and easy fallback for a store name so you don’t really have to really do much research to see where people would actually ohhhhhhh never mind.

They get to Wal-Mart, with Lucas asking general questions about Jane’s life that she’s surprised to find she knows the answers to – her favorite TV show, her favorite restaurant, etc. – when her Extremely Vague Threat sense starts going off. Disguising it as cramps and nerves, she waves Lucas off.

Lucas is so upset about the fact that she’s brushing him off and not telling him the whole story that he gets completely distracted by her beauty and starts grabbing extra clothes for her. Yeah, you show her, Lucas. He even heads her off when she tries to get just a couple of things from the clearance section – thoughtful of her, since she doesn’t want to spend much of her money – by chauvinistically insulting her.

She returned to where he stood with the cart, carrying an ugly gray T-shirt that had probably been the cheapest on the rack.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “She looked at him in surprise. “If I’m going to be looking at you for the next day or two, I don’t want you wearing something ugly.”

To which she immediately starts tearing up and calling him a great man.

(I’ll be honest, it’s actually not as bad as I’m making it look. She needs clothes, he has the money to get them, so he’s trying to get her to accept his generosity. But still, Lucas, you could be a lot less of a dick about it.)

While an old woman conspicuously watches the two of them and runs off while dialing a cell phone, Lucas continues to be sidetracked by the niggling suspicion that he might be becoming domesticated, the horror. They check out, but a van pulls up and two men start trying to manhandle her into it, gee that wasn’t foreshadowed at all.

Chaos Theories: (Or, Strange Attractors and the Terminology They Use)

• “Again he was struck by her prettiness. She wasn’t screamingly drop-dead gorgeous, but rather she had a quiet, simmering beauty.”

There’s a bit of hype involved in this book, and I really hope it can live up to expectations. It’s a bit complicated, and some of you may be wondering what the big deal is here, so I’ll explain it. This third review begins with a story.

It was Episode 23 of Made of Fail (FACE PUNCH!!), and our guests Rinna and Cleolinda were discussing romance novels. Specifically, there was one book Rinna told us about whose title just nabbed us from Word One. The title, of course, was Pregnesia. Apparently, there’s a girl who is pregnant and has amnesia, so you pretty much get what it says on the tin.

The book itself is fairly infamous, though I’ve specifically avoided reading reviews or other discussions of it (including that one I’ve linked to Smart Bitches, Trashy Books), because when I started this site, I promised both Rinna and Cleolinda that I would eventually review this. You can also actually tell when is Donna Tartt writing a new book by clicking here.

What I didn’t know was that this was a Harlequin imprint. Now, I try not to judge a book by its cover (as it were), but I’ve definitely Heard Things About It. Of course, that won’t change the fact that I’m going to read the thing, and I may be pleasantly surprised.

(Speaking of the cover, why the hell is he grabbing her thigh like that she is not a bucket of fried chicken. That looks extremely painful for her and he should put on a glove if he moves any further inward is all I am saying.)

(What the hell, romance novel covers?)

Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come. Lock your trunks and set your alarms, because this is about to get real.

Let’s begin.

The first thing I noticed when I opened this book is that it’s a lot easier to read on my Kindle and type up this review at the same time. With the previous two books, I would always have to place a heavy object or something on it to keep it spread open, and turning pages with the awkwardly improvised paperweight was annoying at best.

Make no mistake, I don’t care about the damage to the books – I like my books like I like my men; broken at the spine – but part of what put me off writing these things was the hassle.

The second thing I noticed when I started this book was that it has a Dramatis Personae, something I discovered in fiction early on when reading the Michael Stackpole X-Wing novels. Outside of scripts and playbills, a cast list is best placed in a work where there are, as Shakespeare himself might say, a metric fuckton of characters.

There are five listed here. With spoilers about the mystery involved in the story. THIS IS NOT HELPING YOUR CASE, PREGNESIA.

Lucas Washington – Former navy SEAL and confirmed loner.

Jane Doe – What horror was her amnesia hiding and who was the father of her unborn baby?

[…]

Charles Blankenship – Had it been a simple case of road rage or was Charles’s involvement with Jane more ominous?

Church of Enlightenment – What did the strange church have to do with Jane’s amnesia?

It sure is nice to have this right before I start reading. It’s not like I’d find this out by, y’know, reading the book. And you’re not fooling anyone with that road rage, Charles. We all know you did it. You were probably in league with that Church of Enlightenment.

Love the Tentacle!

We begin the book with Lucas Washington, late at night. He is a Repo Man – no, not that kind, a real one – and he’s on a smaller job than normal. Tonight he’s taking a car from a driveway, instead of his normal legal thefts repossessions like speedboats and airplanes – I repeat, he normally takes airplanes, I can’t tell if this is overblown or if he’s just a badass – but this job is the result of a favor. Lucas, being the badass airplane thief that he his, has Views on this.

Lucas didn’t believe in favors, giving them or getting them. Still, it was repaying a favor that had him standing on a cold November night at two in the morning.

Incidentally, this takes place in Kansas City, though they don’t specify if it’s the Kansas or Missouri side. Regardless, I am fully aware of how cold November nights usually are in Kansas City, so credit for accuracy where it’s due. Likewise on wanting to avoid a confrontation with Repossession; the court will favor the defaulter if the repossession results in a breach of the peace. But I digress.

(The favor, by the way? Big Bob [of Big Bob’s Used Car Sales] had given Lucas’s sister “a heck of a deal on her car”, despite her bad credit. Must have been some deal to make Lucas Washington, Badass Airplane Thief stoop down to taking a Buick from Missouri.)

Lucas is in a bad mood already, however:

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that in the last four months his partners had both found love and suddenly had a life that didn’t include him.

But what does Love mean to Lucas Washington, Badass Airplane Thief when there’s repossession to be done? Lucas breaks in –

It was unlocked. Sweet.

Lucas casually enters the unlocked car and kicks it into gear, when the person who had been inside the car all along and wasn’t hidden in the slightest gets the jump on our Badass Airplane Thief. (Psst, Lucas, your Badass points are dropping.) It’s a woman, beaten all to hell, pleading with him to let her out of the car. So what does he do? Starts driving.

The woman, naturally, is extremely frightened and refuses to answer his questions, demanding instead to be dropped off somewhere that is not a hospital or a police station. Lucas, also naturally, asks her five times if someone beat her up. Let’s see; bloody, bruised, shying away from you, refusing to go to the police?

She fell down some stairs.

I hate to see a battered woman.

After about seven thousand more questions about who she was and who did it to her, Lucas finally pulls in to Big Bob’s (of Big Bob’s Used Car Sales) to drop off the car. That’s when she sees that she is “pregnant. Very pregnant.” Hitherto unrealized chivalry floods into Lucas as he once more demands her name. But she can’t tell him that, because *dramatic fluttering of hands to forehead* she doesn’t know who she is.

She has… The Pregnesia.

Of course, the curiosity and terror that Lucas is feeling is invalidated when we jump to Mystery Woman’s perspective – for the sake of clarification, the book and I will now refer to her as Jane Doe – when she spends the first couple paragraphs musing on how hot this random car thief is.

On some level she found him intensely attractive, but could she trust him? Her head pounded with nauseating intensity. But the pain couldn’t touch the frantic terror that clawed inside her.

THAT’S BETTER, JANE. More realistic; focus on the pain that you’re in, and the mind-numbing WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON, WHO IS THIS PERSON AND WHY AM I PREGNANT. (AND WHERE ARE YOUR FARMS.)

Seriously, this woman woke up with no clue who or where she was, pretty far along in a pregnancy she has no memory of, and crawls into an unlocked car to get out of the cold – only to be woken up as someone steals the car with her in it. I would have soiled myself by now.

Jane allows Lucas to take her to his sister’s apartment – right down the hall from his own – because she’s a nurse and can probably care for Random Pregnant Lady. Tangentally, if any of my siblings came knocking on my door at two in the morning to take care of some stranger, I would punch them in the head. (And then I would help them. But they would be in for some serious cranial trauma is all I am saying.)

(I am a nice brother.)

Lucas’s sister, Loretta, starts treating Jane’s wounds while simultaneously bitching at her brother for waking her up. (This is my kind of woman.) She also offers Jane the opportunity to stay the night since she doesn’t want to go to any kind of hospital. Thankful, Jane curls up and starts musing about her Random Night Savior, Lucas Washington (Badass Airplane Thief).

If somewhere during the course of this book Lucas does not steal an airplane, I will be so pissed off you have no idea you guys.

*cough*

Wedding planning has been fantastic; with all the big things out of the way, all I need to do now is wait and prepare for the metric crapload of logistical and minor details. Which, as everyone continually asserts, are going to be what kills me in the end.

Fools. The catering was merely a setback.

In any case, I got a Kindle for my birthday, which means it’s time to stop procrastinating, and reveal Book Three of this forsaken project.

May Gygax have mercy on my soul.

There is so much I’d actually want to read, but no, let’s only have plot as a reason to get people having sex. It’s almost reminding me of Cleolinda’s reaction to Twilight (I apologise for bringing this up yet again) on Episode Ten: Do We Dazzle You; it cuts to a pseudo-Victorian erotic scene as part of Bella’s fantasy, and Cleo protests, “Why can’t we be watching that movie?”

Long story short, this blog has been reduced to me simply reacting and facepalming. That’s not entertaining. That’s not amusing. That’s just watching me rage out; anyone can do that.

• @

cleolinda

• : Oh God. That bad?

• @

alliancesjr

: It’s not that it’s bad – which it is – it’s that I keep seeing parts that I REALLY wish this book was better so’s I can read it.

Which is, most likely, the biggest difference between this and The Very Virile Viking. Well, that and the fact that Virile Viking didn’t make me feel like I wasn’t reading a grown-up book, since it was normal-book-sized and formatted like a regular book. This abomination honestly feels like someone decided to print off something from Literotica.

Actually, that comparison probably isn’t that bad. If this was a Literotica story, it’d probably be one of the highest rated ones. The sex scenes aren’t badly written, and they eventually touch upon all the basic kinks, which would appeal to the widest variety of readers. There’s the rape forceful seduction fantasy, the domination/submission with humiliation aspects, the voyeurism, the tender forgiving makeup sex, and some triumphant and consensual raw acts of desire. Additionally, if you’re curious about what male enhancement pills are and how they affect fertility, Learn more from the leading male fertility experts.

There’s also the other hallmarks of the average Literotica entry; no proofreading, awkward sentence structure, and the simple existence of just enough plot to move the sex along, speaking of sexual relationships, if your male partner suffer from erectile dysfunction he should try with bluechew.

That was what I was expecting anyway, though. Why is this book pissing me off when it’s just about what I thought it was going to be?

As I said above, it’s that there’s some amazing worldbuilding in the background, and the introduction of some absolutely fantastic concepts that I really want to read about. What I said last post about continually getting plotblocked is completely not hyperbole in the slightest; there is a page and a half of exposition and character development, then three chapters of sex, and then the thread is completely dropped, never to be heard from again. If it is revisited, it’s to handwave the next couple pages of plot so that there appears to be some actual story in this book.

If you cut out all the gratuitous sex, the book would be about ten pages long. Within those ten pages, of course, would be the beginnings of the following plot threads:

• Mayflower has no memories from before she was attacked in the alley. We find out this is because her missing nipple isn’t missing after all; it’s in Dime’s necklace, and it’s encoded with the police reports and hospital records from her attack. When the nipple is reattached, she remembers her real name, her family on the Blue side, and the details of the unborn son that was taken away from her in the attack.
  • Because of course.
• Mark was a vampire up until the attack on Mayflower, to the extent that she was attacked because her unborn son was his cure. It’s never fully explained, maybe he was genetically created to have the cure in his blood, or maybe his stem cells were needed to create it, but he’s the reason she was attacked in the first place and he is hit with crushing guilt.
• The whole Blue and Black thing is actually pretty interesting; there was a hyper-efficient, practically-renewable energy source created, and the corporations that made up the Blue caste decided to hoard it and sell it at extremely high rates to the common people – the Black underground. There’s a war going on between the factions for control of the resource, and Mark is part of a resistance movement to try to bring the war to an end and unite the people of the world.
• Mayflower has a huge prejudice against people with synth prosthetics, mostly as a result of the assault, but she manages to get over this when she has to deal with other people in the resistance who have numerous prosthetics.
• Black underground society deals with data smuggling, ruining people’s brains as wetware.
• Mayflower’s sister was the one who organized the assault against her, marrying her husband once Mayflower was presumed dead.

Where the hell is that book? I want to read that! There’s mystery, there’s action, there’s dystopian future societies and caste structures, there’s rebellion against the order.

All of these plot threads would be probably the most interesting book I have ever read if the book was actually about that. Or even if the book had the same amount of gratuitous sex but also actually developed the plot beyond what it currently has.

That’s what’s killing me about this book, is that it could probably be my most favorite thing I read this year. It could win Nebulas or Hugos.

All that said, I can’t fault Cameo Brown for writing what she wrote. There’s a market for explicit erotic fiction, and she seems to have it cornered. It’s obviously self-published, and you can’t fault anyone for doing that. Really, the only thing I fault her for is not having it proofread before submitting it to be published; the typographical errors, missing words, and awkward structure definitely hurts it. But it does what she set out to do.

A few years back, my friend Debbie explained to me why she hunted these things down, and I never forgot her answer. “Sometimes you just need a deep dicking,” she said, in probably the most conversational tone I had ever heard a sentence like that uttered.

That’s what this book is, and I’m upset because it could be so much more, and it isn’t.

In any case, I’m sorry I couldn’t finish reviewing this, Kayleigh. I gave it my best shot, and I couldn’t make it funny.

Anyway, what we’ve learned so far:

• Jalopy Mint Alberqueque has creamy blood. It’s actually not creamy, but as I’ve read ahead, I’ve discovered that “creamy” is pretty much the author’s only adjective when it comes to liquids. Or at least bodily fluids. And man does she have cause to use that adjective a lot.
• There are undercurrents of a halfway-decent dystopian future political intrigue mystery novel in this, and it keeps getting sidetracked with all the sex. And then dropped entirely.
• Seriously, I’m sitting here, enjoying a bit of rebellion against the caste structure, and I keep getting plotblocked.

I also think that the line spacing is seriously detrimental to this book so far. I mean, it’s one thing to fill up space to be able to pad a few extra pages into your book, but this is absolutely ridiculous:

Personal space.

In any case, here we go again.

Mayflower wakes up on Mark’s gurney, no worse for wear except for the nightmares of synthbots for some unexplained reason. She panics, of course, and wonders if it’s all a dream. We’re not spared the realization that by the stickiness of her thighs, it wasn’t a dream at all. I wish I was making this up.

After worrying that Mark might be an assassin out to kill her – seriously, does everyone have a hit out on them, apparently so – Our Heroine makes her way to the back room, where we finally meet Dime; a mentally-disabled young man who spends all his time on his computer. But he’s not alone; both Hannah and Mark are there with him, spending time with him.

This, of course, is the Dime that Mayflower was so worried about, and she apparently has been taking care of him for a while.

Her path to destruction set the moment she woke up in the alley so long ago – abandoned for dead by all who knew her – she’d reconciled her fate, but something inside her refused to give up on searching for a place for Dime. She hadn’t been able to protect her son, even as he grew in her womb, when the synthbots attacked her. She still didn’t know why they picked her, and she didn’t care anymore. What was done was done.

And then the subject is dropped. Completely. Which, whoa, I actually want to hear more about that what the hell. Plottease.

We find out that Dime’s mother was a drug addict, and used his brain as a mobile flash drive; she loaded him up with data, and it was extracted later on, somewhere else. Information smuggling and transport, basically. This messed him up, natch.

Hannah seems to be afraid of Dime, but sticks around to help take care of him. She can relate to Dime; her father sold her body to company spokesmen as a political gesture. It’s a life that Mark was in the process of saving her from, which was the reason he had grabbed a pleasure synth to have sex with in front of his clients, instead of Hannah.

Well, holy shit, now we know why he was pissed off at finding a real live person in there. I guess this means we can fill out a rough timeline now of what was going on behind the scenes in the beginning.

1. Hannah’s father sells her to the Druggie Couple for their use.
2. Druggie Couple hire Mark to use Hannah while they watch and possibly join in.
3. Situation squicks Mark, he picks up a synthbot replacement to spare Hannah and take her away.
4. Mark finds Mayflower in the synthbot box, is understandably upset, her presence could ruin everything.
5. Wackiness ensues.

We don’t yet know why Mayflower was in the box in the first place, but it looks like they’re not going to tell us any time soon, because Mark was offended that Mayflower would insinuate that he would take advantage of Hannah, and decides to start spanking her in retaliation. This, of course, leads to more sex.

(Also, by the way, one of her nipples is gone. This is apparently a plot point.)

During this, we find out more about Mark, partially through after-sex internal monologue – one of the only places for exposition in this book – and partially through Mayflower questioning why Mark bites her during sex. It’s a reflexive kink he got from being a vampire, she figures out, and she asks him point-blank how old he is. (The answer, as we know, is two thousandish.) Satisifed that he’s robbing the cradle – and/or that she’s robbing the grave – they prepare for some more yada-yada when the door smashes in.

Enter Chico. He’s mad, he’s packing, and he is, to him, The Man.

• The distinction between “real” Black women and Blue Honeys. It’s mentioned that there is a distinction, rather, but there’s no indication thus far what it actually means. We know that Mayflower is Black and Jornaldo Mighty Acclamator is Blue, but the latter is just from the summary on the back so far.
• Mayflower didn’t just grab Druggie Janice and shove her in the robot closet. After she hit the “WASH” button, she grabbed the other guy – druggie girl’s husband – and shoved him in the closet and hit the button again.
• On that note, it doesn’t specify what the sterilization process is, but it apparently involves water that is hot enough to scald lava. Physical impossibilities aside, that’s a really damned painful way to go.

All in all, I came into this expecting Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep but with additional strangely-written sex and also vampires. What I’m getting is something else entirely. Join me as I figure out what!

I skipped ahead a bit on the end of the last post. I apologise for that; the pacing in these chapters is extremely erratic. From the two-chapter-long sex scene to the three paragraphs devoted to the fight afterwards, it took a couple re-reads to get the timeline straight. So here’s my best shot at the last chapter:

1. Sex being finished, the druggie married couple start moving in on Mayflower. Mark is having none of this, and punches out the guy.
2. Druggie Wife attacks Mark. This involves a sharp pain to his side.
3. Mayflower pulls Druggie Wife off Mark, knocks her out, stuffs her in the closet and sterilizes her.
4. Druggie Husband grabs the knife which apparently has been there the whole time (it hasn’t) (although that would explain the sharp pain in Mark’s side and the “creamy liquid” running down to the floor) (blood is creamy in the future I guess); Mayflower disarms him and shoves him in the closet and hits sterilize again.

Sealing the box by throwing her body against it, she hit WASH once more, and Mr. Dosten’s muffled screams faded as the hiss of water so hot it could scald lava cleansed the box and its contents.

Apparently, she did know what would happen. Impressive.

Taking yet another step back, CREAMY LIQUID WHAT. I was reading this originally and thought “wow, must have been some really athletic sex going on for stuff to be running down his side”, because I am jaded now after years of being friends with raunchy women. Then a few paragraphs later we find out NO THAT IS NOT IT, he has been STABBED, and now he’s bleeding out on the carpet.

Mayflower, the pragmatist, grabs Mark’s clothes and puts them on herself, then tells him that he’s going to help her get Dime back. Mark, of course, considers her to be A: an assassin who was trying to kill him, and also B: under his thrall now, so he stands there, bleeding out, while they calmly discuss the issue of getting past the Druggie Couple’s bodyguard.

And then a woman – Hannah – bounds in and enfolds Mark in a flying tackle hug that simultaneously makes Mayflower insanely jealous and tears open Mark’s wound further.

The solution to this? Mayflower steals an ambulance (because of course), and drives Hannah and Mark to a friend of hers in the Black underground who can stitch Mark up.

Said friend is a drug-addled creep who demands sexual favors in return for treating Mark’s wound. The favors end up happening in the room with Mark watching, causing him to react with immense jealous and…other ways.

“Lie down, Chilly,” Mayflower said, turning away from Mark and giving the doctor a shove.

He slid down the wall, flattening himself out when he reached the floor and shimmying onto his back. Mayflower stripped, offering full views of her luscious curves, and Mark’s shaft lengthened three inches.

NO. NO. IT DOESN’T WORK THAT WAY. WHAT.

I hate to say it, but I find that I miss agricultural euphemisms. This book doesn’t dance around the subject, it gets right to the dirty.

Honestly, I think I should just start yada-yadaing the sex, unless something important happens during.

Anyway, yada-yada the doctor is a drug-addled reject who can’t get it up without a detox pill, yada-yada she’s faking it but that just makes Mark want her all the more.

(Seriously, I’m at a loss how to handle this without glossing it over completely.)

Mayflower faking it with the doctor somehow gives Mark the strength to rage past both an anaesthetic and leather restraints, and he chases Mayflower down the hallway and pins her down, because if anyone’s going to be taking advantage of her, it’s going to be him, goddamnit.

In the conversation before the totally-not-rape-at-all, we get a little bit of strangely-placed insight, through Mayflower’s internal monologue, about the nature of the sort of caste system that the future world has. Apparently, the Black society are the undergrounders, the destitute and deranged and not the noble Blue caste (because of Blue blood maybe, I am speculating). We know this much because Chilly (who shall be referred hereafter as Doctor Skeevoid) had a failed operation on the wrong person and now he’s hiding out in the Black districts while his family, still Blues, are safe. Blue Honeys, on that nature, are Blues that pander to the sexual cravings of the Black society. High-class escorts, maybe? Mark is described as Blue Honey, and so is Hannah.

All this, of course, is during a prolonged domination/submission scenario, with Mark holding her down and her having orchestrated the whole thing because she wanted him again. Which, very true to that age-old adage that the Submissive is actually the one in control. (Look it up if you don’t believe me.)

After the internal monologue and Mark demanding that she say his name properly, they yada-yada until the chapter ends.

I’ve actually been sitting on this book for a few weeks now, but there was something very specific that was stopping me from getting this review started. I picked it up at work to do a bit of advance reading, and immediately put it back down.

There’s…a limit to what I feel comfortable reading at work. There is sex on page one. Granted, it’s “off-screen”, and I am not saying I have an issue reading this sort of thing in general, but there’s a difference between reading at home and reading at work in a crowded office building where people constantly ask me what I am reading. (Especially since I appear to have accidentally ordered the Large Print edition of the book.)

I didn’t want to have to explain this to my supervisor is what I am saying.

In any case, Kayleigh has challenged me to Pleasure 2035, by Cameo Brown, of which the summary on the back promises vampires, robot sex workers, and undercover mystery and intrigue.

Let’s begin!

We begin with Mayflower, sitting in what appears to be a robot brothel, wishing that “the sun would explode”, killing her and vaporizing all of her problems while it’s at it. We have a short list of vague worries, such as Chico (running away from), Dime (unspecified), and her current predicament of being stuck in a small box-like room, listening to the sounds of sex around her, and not being able to do anything about it.

That last, it appears, is a bit more of an immediate concern, considering it’s hot and stuffy in that box, and she’s dressed up like a “pleasure synth”, which I assume is a lovebot of some sort. Her plan, it appears, is of the “Didn’t think it through! DIDN’T THINK IT THROUGH!” variety, because synths – being assumedly robots – can be stored in small compartments and dress in chafing, uncomfortable-but-sexy garments.

I guess robots really don’t have to breathe.

It’s actually a neat aspect of the concept, and one I find myself happy that the author is calling attention to. If you’re going to pretend you’re a robot, you have to take into account that robots are treated differently; robots don’t have to worry about constricting clothing or fabrics that would normally give rashes, they don’t have to keep the temperature around human comfort levels, and they don’t have to breathe.

I have a feeling that the world-building – what little there may be of it – is going to hook me far more than the sex scenes. Which, speaking of, start right the fuck away.

While Mayflower is ruminating on the position she’s in, the door to her cubbyhole is wrenched open, and she’s dragged out by a large, muscular man who tosses her around a couple times before threatening her life.

And dangerous he was. His fingers continued to constrict around her windpipe, squeezing harder in proportion to the fury growing in his expression.

“I hope you like to fuck, little lady,” he ground out, his tone low and threatening, “because if you don’t spread those pretty thighs for me, we’re both dead.”

Come with me if you want to live.

No fear, Mayflower, for it is only Jovinius Markus Artinuous, which I cannot fucking pronounce for the life of me but whatever, let’s move on. He’s big, he’s bad, and he’ll kill Mayflower if she doesn’t shut up and have sex with him, because that’s what the people about to enter the room expect.

Mayflower decides to keep playing the love-doll, so she gives her name as Synthia unit 5678. Extremely clever. But there’s not much she can do, because he’s overpoweringly strong, and his kisses turn her anger into pure desire. Only one race can do this, she realizes with horror. Jovinaost Mark Hamillious must be…a robot.

I’m going to take a moment and point out that Jovarci Markus Aquinas is hereafter referred to by other characters as “Jove”, and his own perspective sections identify him as “Mark”, so I’m going to declare that from now on, Jocasta Michelin Architect will be referred to simply as Mark and have done with the needlessly complicated nomenclature.

I’m also not going to go off on a rampage about the whole forced sex at gunpoint – technically, at rip-your-head-off-with-his-bare-handspoint, but whatevs – because if I do that for every book I read, I’ll rant myself into an early stroke. So I’m just going to say right here, right now: Rape is bad, I hate it, I’m going to move on now.

In any case, the couple enter the room with Mark and Mayflower. They’re introduced as a pair of drug smugglers; the wife, Janice, is obviously shitfaced out of her mind right then and there, and it’s made clear that they hired Mark to have sex with a woman in front of them, as some sort of…what, marital aid? Expensive live-performance porn? Look, I don’t know, it’s extremely fast paced right now and I’m having trouble keeping up with what’s going on.

In any case, the husband is trying to use this scene to sleep with his wife, who is too stoned to even know what her own anatomy looks like anymore, so he watches a chapter-long sex scene between Mark and Mayflower Synthia (get it she is pretending to be a pleasure synth and it is her name so clever). During this, Mayflower realizes that Mark isn’t a robot because he has a scrotum (apparently this is a thing) (NO SERIOUSLY THIS IS A THING); also, Mark loses control and bites into Mayflower’s ankle, and she’s so into the sexing that she doesn’t notice and/or care(or possibly there’s some strange aspect to the bite that encourages this, see also the kiss above).

Mister Drug Pusher wants to get into the action, but Mark doesn’t like this and punches him out. Mayflower then grabs Janice Stoned Woman, pushes her into the love-bot containment closet, and pushes the sterilization button. Which is completely awesome and more attention to detail in this actually fascinating setting because, as mentioned above, robots can take more punishment than a human, so when a love-bot gets sterilized, it gets fucking sterilized.

Suddenly yet another woman bursts into the room, drapes herself all over Mark, and both Mayflower and I are just completely confused by the sudden influx of unexplained characters. To which point, I’m going to end this section now and pick it back up after I’ve had a chance to recover.

…damn. I don’t know what happened, but it sucked me in. Which, admittedly, is what books are supposed to do in the first place. That’s why – I apologise for bringing this up yet again – Twilight was so successful, both in the “seriously love it to death” adolescent and middle-aged woman demographic (which I saw first-hand, as both my teenaged sister and my mother completely loved that series), and in the “Let’s make fun of it” review crowd, which I am most unashamedly a part of, and that certainly wouldn’t happen if I absolutely loathed the whole thing. If you truly hate something, you want absolutely nothing to do with it. Constantly talking about it means that you derive some enjoyment from it, even if it just means you enjoy pointing out how much it bothers you.

Cleolinda made a remark on Made of Fail’s most recent Harry Potter episode.

…you have to admit to yourself that the phrase “I like making fun of it” involves the words I, Like, and It.

[…]

Life’s too short to go around recreationally hating things.

I believe the latter quote should be embroidered on a pillow and propped up next to her “I just want to be a doper person” cross-stitch, but that’s just me.

My point is that these reviews are honestly because I enjoy doing this, and I don’t want to come off as mean-spirited. I know I started that way in the beginning of Virile Viking, but it turned into honest discussion about the book’s themes and how it works in society. And I get it, I understand its appeal, and I don’t fault the author or the book for being as popular as it is.

But I’m repeating myself.

In any case, I’m announcing my next book, which is Pleasure 2035 by Cameo Brown. I’ll be seeing if I can order it from Amazon – I have a gift card – and it looks like it would be absolutely delightful to read.

I also want to go over some structural changes I’ve been considering. Trekkiegirl, who chose Very Virile Viking for me, is going to give final thoughts and why she chose it for me (which I’m still waiting for but wedding planning is taking up a lot of our free time). To that note, I’m thinking maybe final thoughts for every book by the person who chose it for me, with a similar bit on why it was chosen.

Secondly, I think I’m going to start condensing the posts. There’s absolutely no reason why I had to go seven posts for Virile Viking; I can say what I need to say in two or three. Maybe even one, depending on the book.

I’m excited, this is going to be a lot of fun.

Taken from the standpoint of someone who had never read quote-unquote Romance Novels before, this book certainly opened my eyes, in ways I couldn’t have realized. Not the least of which was the whole “Rape Is Okay So Long As He Kisses You” aspect, which you all got to see me get blindsided with last month.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fun book, and I quite enjoyed reading it (though not for the intended reasons, I’m sure). Don’t tell anyone, but I’m actually interested in looking through the other books in this series – which is apparently still ongoing, I saw one in the “New Paperbacks” shelf at Borders the other day – which means that I unfortunately can be counted in the masses of people hooked by the concept. I still can’t believe the mileage Sandra Hill has gotten out of a simple “There are Vikings, there are modern women, time travel happens and they have sex” concept, but I guess as long as you touch upon those core tenets, you’re pretty free to explore wherever you want. Thinking back on it, the possibilities are pretty much endless.

In fact, I’m going to try to come up with a couple ideas myself. Bear with me.

A journalist from a Big City Newspaper gets sucked into a time vortex and lands on an uncharted island. It’s not nearly as deserted as it appears, however; this island is the personal and private villa of a burly seafaring adventurer, whose desire for excitement and travelling the open seas is hampered only by his loneliness.

Does that sound good? How about another?

Jorgan Morganson thought he could do without women; his heart had been broken far too long. But when his ship gets blown off-course and he arrives in modern-day Texas, he gets swept away by a fun-loving cattle rancher, whose sense of adventure is second only to the size of her heart.

This is easier than I thought. One more as long as I’m on the subject!

Yolanda Johnson was at her normal job, when a tornado swept through her office building. Erik Ericsson had been enjoying a bit of leisure time after pillaging the Britons when a freak storm blew him away. Both of them find themselves on a desolate wasteland, seemingly for all eternity. Can they see past their differences and find their way home…and maybe TRUE LOVE?

Actually, now that I think about it, I wonder if she’s already done all these.

Anyway, this book is pretty much wish-fulfillment. Which is probably true of most romance novels, now that I think about it – I am speculating, of course, feel free to correct me if I am wrong on this – and it’s extremely obvious here, especially with how freaking convenient everything is. There’s no suspense, no real sense of worry about the characters at all; given the summary on the back, we know that Magnus is going to get swept into the future, and that he’s going to hook up with Angela.

And that’s really what’s wrong with the book, in my opinion. Since the entire thing is a foregone conclusion, there’s no point to any sort of tension between the characters. Even though Angela protests feeling anything towards Magnus at the beginning, it’s obvious she’s attracted, and there’s no point to her declaring otherwise. There’s no “other woman” or “other man” to cause friction between the two, there’s no star-crossed parting of the ways that might tear them apart later. Everything is engineered perfectly to get them together; hell, it’s Divine Intervention straight from the beginning.

Take a look at it a bit more closely; Angela is divorced, she needs someone who can provide for the vineyard and won’t cheat on her endlessly – and, if the subtext is anything to go by, someone who won’t beat her into submission. Magnus needs a woman who can handle his children and who won’t mind his insatiable love of farming. When Angela stresses about money, Magnus happens to have a chest full of antique coins that sell for thousands of dollars each. When someone tries to sabotage the farm, because there’s nobody there to stand up to bullying? Well, how about a giant norseman who’s ripped like Jesus?

That said, the thought behind it holds up, and that’s probably why all these people reading it have no problem with it. I’m extremely cynical, and I found a lot of this to be ridiculous and self-serving, but it’s also a bit touching. I mean, everyone’s had fantasies about The Perfect Person, who complements you in every way, who understands your needs and fulfills all of them. Emotionally, physically, and sexually, there’s a desire for That Person, and here they are. Angela and Magnus are exactly who they need to be for each other, even if they didn’t know it from the beginning, and that’s the draw. That’s the hook.

Bravo, Sandra Hill. As campy and ridiculous as this book was, I understand it, and I applaud you for your audacity, even if that was not your intent. I’m almost certain you take your writing extremely seriously, and that’s fine; I’m not going to step on your toes. It’s not my cup of tea, but that’s not the point of this blog, is it?

After all, now I know the proper way to deal with feminazis.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OlsSyQH0gu8]

Both Trekkiegirl and I will post our final thoughts on the book after this, so there’s that to look forward to. Then I’m going to take a short break, and then I’ll get started on Book Choice Number Two, which I’ve promised Kayleigh she’d get to pick. After that, we’ll see!

Magnus calls a Family Meeting, which the narration takes care to specify is called a Thing, or an Althing. This impressed me, because for once it shows that research was actually done for this book, even though it’s a pick-and-choose sort of thing.

The following is more of a paraphrasing than a direct quote, as I normally do.

MAGNUS: “Is it agreed, Family? Are we in fact time-travellers?”
ANGELA: “Y’all’s crazy.”
MAGNUS: “What else could explain-”
ANGELA: “Science has a perfectly good explanation for this. It always does.”
MAGNUS: “I do not underst-”
ANGELA: “SCIENCE.”
KIRSTEN: “Grandma Asgar says the Christian God can do anything.”
TOROLF: “IT DOESN’T MATTER WE ARE HERE AND IT IS TOTALLY SWEET.”
MAGNUS: “There still has to be a reason we are here.”
TOROLF: “THE CHICKS. DUDE. FUTURE CHICKS ARE FREAKS AND I MEAN THAT IN ALL THE BEST WAYS.”
ANGELA: “Hey!”
MAGNUS: “Grandma Rose did mention she prayed that a knight would come save the Blue Dragon.”
ANGELA: “Yeah, I was going to say that. And here you are.”
TOROLF: “I MEAN IN ALL THE AWESOME SEX WAYS WHEN I SAY THEY ARE FREAKS. THEY DO THE FREAK SEX.”
ANGELA: “We get it.”
TOROLF: “ALSO THEY HAVE BIG FAKE BOOBS.”
ANGELA: “Enough!”
TOROLF: “LIKE REALLY, REALLY BIG.”

The Family Council decides that as long as they were in the future, they’d get the most out of it, such as fixing Jogeir’s bad leg, and getting the younger girls into school, and also by the way searching for Magnus’s two brothers that disappeared a while back into the previous books in Sandra Hill’s Time Travelling Viking Novels available wherever books are sold.

(I just looked it up right now. EVERY BOOK IS FROM MAGNUS’S FAMILY. This shit keeps happening to them WHY HAVE THEY NOT LEARNED BETTER BY NOW.)

(Also, apparently you can squeeze a lot more ideas out of a simple “There is time travel, there are Vikings, and then they do the sex” concept than I thought. Who knew?)

If they can find Magnus’s brothers, they can also find out if it’s possible to go back home to The Norselands, if they so desire. Angela hears this, of course, and runs off sobbing.

Because of course.

No time to sulk, though, because the neighboring vintner is back yet again to try to buy the Blue Dragon – conveniently knowing A: that Magnus is a Viking and B: that they’ve been having financial problems. This is still only a day or so after the fire, and he was just there to try to strong-arm them again. He’s also extremely upset at Magnus stepping in to save them, and tells them that “The Incredible Hulk better watch his back.”

HMMMMMMMMMMMMM.

This news really bites Magnus in the fjords, though not for the reason you’d think.

“I will tell you why I am angry with you, Angela. You did not summon me when Gunther arrived, even though we have discussed in the past the threat he poses to the Blue Dragon and its people. Did I not order you to call me immediately if he came onto this property?”

He saw Angela bristle at the word order. He had noticed that women in this country – and time – misliked the idea of a man being in control. They associated too much with man-haters like Carmen. Could they not see that there were times when only a man’s might and authority would suffice?

It doesn’t matter, though. Magnus’s cell phone rings – he has a cell phone now apparently – and it’s Torolf, who’s scouting out Gunther’s farm; Gunther just hired some goons. But that’s not all – Magnus hired a private detective to protect the Blue Dragon! All without telling Angela, either.

Oh dear. I feel an epic Relationship Cold War about to break out.

Magnus approaches Angela to get her out of town for the next few days; he has arranged for a showdown between himself and Gunther, hoping to catch him in the act, and he doesn’t want the women or his children around when this happens. Angela, naturally, is furious at this, and he starts telling her what he has been doing the last couple days.

“You hired a private detective? Without consulting me?”

“Yea, I did. And I got my driver’s license today. Didst know that? Of course, I had to take the test twice. I almost hit a pole the first time.”

[…]

“Magnus, how could you get a driver’s license when you don’t even have a birth certificate?”

“It helps when you know the right people. Leastways, that is what Harry says. He got those parchments for me, and for all my children, too. And social security cards, whatever they are. Why do people need special licenses in this land to be secure in their social lives?”

So, apparently, in the last couple days, Magnus was taught how to drive a car, successfully got his license, and all because the private investigator he hired got him false identification for ten people. Oh, and got work records for Magnus, saying he was a Green Beret (of course) and in the Witness Protection Program.

Oh, and beside all that, found out that Gunther had been sabotaging the Blue Dragon for years, lured away their prize winemaker to France, hiked up the cost of wine bottles, and ruined Angela’s credit to make sure she couldn’t apply for a loan to save her farm.

That is one hell of a private investigator. Sure, Magnus probably dropped hundreds of thousands of dollars on him, but even then, he must have hired Perry van Shrike for that kind of service.

Angela finally submits to hiding away in LA, biding her time and waiting for Magnus to call and tell her it’s all over and ohgod don’t tell me we’ve got a Bella Swan situation where the only awesome thing that happens and the only thing that I’d want to read about further happens offscreen.

*flip ahead*

GODDAMNIT.

And just like that, it’s all over, APPARENTLY. Much like the Battle of Coruscant, we gloss over something I’d really liked to have seen to make way for DRAMATIC POST-HOSPITAL ANGSTING. Magnus, who has been shot in the shoulder, is refusing treatment until Angela shows up to strong-arm him into taking an injection by a burly-yet-saucy nurse, who is apparently hefty enough to hold Magnus down on her own. Then they have tender-because-otherwise-it-would-bust-stitches sex.

After an unspecified length of recovery time, it is now almost harvesting season, and the kids are enjoying their tutoring sessions, the grapes are coming in nicely, and Angela is warming nicely to the idea of Magnus being around. She’s even considering marrying him and having a child with him, but then Magnus tells her he is making an appointment to have a vasectomy. This throws her into a snitfit, because having a baby is the ultimate goal in marrying someone, and the most important reason to do so, obviously. But then Magnus does the unthinkable:

“I would not mind marrying you, but no more children,” he said as gently as he could.

“You would not mind…” she sputtered, then spun on her heel and rushed into her bathing chamber, where she locked the door after herself, but not before telling him to do something to himself that he was fairly certain was anatomically impossible… although Balki the Braggart had once claimed to do such. But then, Balki was the same person who claimed he could tie his man part in a knot and still engage in sexplay.

Also, on behalf of the however many actual women reading this (since I don’t, y’know, have a vagina but I can imagine pretty well)? Fucking ow. And I’m not even counting the sympathy pain I feel at the mention of a man doing that to himself.

LADIES, BE CLEAR. WE DON’T WANT KNOTTED PENISES ANY MORE THAN YOU DO. PLEASE TRUST ME ON THIS.

Angela’s still sorting out her options when she packs her backs to head back to the city, and she invites Magnus and the Viklings to the cultural fair that Carmen The Man-Hater is running. And…see, I was all prepared to love Sandra Hill’s Epic Takedown of Feminism, but it definitely falls flat. Carmen ends up being an uninteresting character that doesn’t do anything but tell dumb man jokes every time she opens her mouth. Magnus even deflects her easily just by pointing out that her nipples are, well, pointing out.

“It must be true. Some men drink from the fountain of knowledge, but most of them just gargle.”

“Nipples, nipples, nipples,” he said.

“Dumb, dumb, dumb,” Carmen said.

Rapier wit. I know, I’m having trouble keeping up too.

Right away, Sandra Hill gets her digs in at the Society for Creative Anachronism, which she thinks are amateurish buffoons who occasionally do some interesting things. WAY TO TURN OFF ALL MY READERS, SANDRA HILL. I’m not even going to make comments about this; have at. This is my gift to you.

This was no group of rank amateurs who had gathered here at the cultural fair. Oh, there were the usual Society of Creative Anachronism types, but even these knew their subjects well.

The whole cultural fair is pretty neat, but what draws Magnus’s attention is the Viking exhibit, staffed by none other than Geirolf Ericsson, Magnus’s missing brother who the Viklings theorized fell into a time vortex the same way they did! And not only that, despite living on the Eastern Seaboard, is working at this cultural fair that Magnus is dropping by!

Also, their other missing brother happens to be in this time too, as a personal trainer in Texas.

Coincidence? I think…oh, tup it.

The Viklings decide to head to San Antonio to have a big family reunion, and Angela is standing, crying, in the airport, being the biggest cliché she can think of. Why is she crying so much?

Because she’s pregnant. HEY ANGELA I GUESS LETTING MAGNUS GO BAREBACK WASN’T A GOOD IDEA EVEN THOUGH YOU WERE ON THE PILL.

I am shocked. Completely flabbergasted. How could I have possibly foretold that in The Very Virile Viking there would be a pregnancy? Especially because they sure didn’t foreshadow it in the first couple pages, with Magnus being so potent that he could impregnate a woman at ten paces. ABSOLUTELY SHOCKED I TELL YOU.

So now, of course, we have Angela sitting at home, pregnant, waiting to tell Magnus. And Magnus, halfway across the country, pining away from being separated from Angela, and being a general dick to his brothers. He misses her so much, that he’s even considering having another baby with her.

OH HAPPENSTANCE, OH SWEET SERENDIPITY.

When Magnus returns, he and Angela are prepared to have a shouting match. But then they see each other and kiss and then Magnus proposes, and all is better. That’s all women need, apparently; a man’s proposal. Then they don’t have any more worries in the world. (Of course, it helps when the man is richer than God, but hey, that would be material.)

The wedding is set at the Vineyard, and it is catered by Domino’s, because apparently asking a bunch of teenagers what they wanted to eat at a wedding is a wonderful idea. Good times were had by all, but Angela has two surprises for Magnus. One is, of course, that she’s pregnant.

The other?

A cow.

Hooray, hooray, a wonderful day, for Magnus has his cow.

~fin~

Alas, they are. It’s like a deliciously-smelling Light Grenade.

Such is the case with this book. While I cannot handle more than a small amount at a time, I keep coming back to it, and regretting it each time.

Diabolical. Sandra Hill, you magnificent bastard.

The Blue Dragon is on fire. Or rather, was, since it’s pretty much contained by the time Magnus and Angela get back. The loveable mongrel got injured trying to chase the arsonist – BUT THE DOG IS OKAY, DO NOT WORRY – and everyone’s fretting about as they try to explain to Magnus what just happened.

Turns out there’s been a lot of this going on; they’re not sure whether it’s a competitor trying to sabotage the farm, or a buyer trying to lower the cost of grapes. This strikes me as incredibly foolish because if they’re selling grapes and they lost a quarter of their harvest, wouldn’t the rest of the grapes will be jacked up by a third to recoup costs? I can’t be the only one who immediately thought that. PLEASE tell me I’m not the only one who immediately thought that.

(*sob*)

Immediately, of course, the Time Travelling Viking Family suggests hunting down the arsonist with swords and axes. This is met

“I think we should get out our words and go looking for these scoundrels who would do such a cowardly act,” Torolf said. “Sword dew aplenty we could spill betwixt the two of us.”

“Mayhap,” Magnus agreed.

“Don’t you dare,” Angela said. “Violence begets violence, and then nothing is accomplished.”

So what’s Magnus’s non-violent solution? Take a small handful of the ancient coins out of his luggage, pay off Angela’s debts, and then he wouldn’t have to be an actor in that Viking movie.

Those few coins – still a tiny amount compared to how many he has with him – are worth roughly a million dollars all combined.

This is pretty much The American Way, honestly. Whatever we can’t solve with violence, we throw money at until it goes away. Magnus has acclimated to being an American VERY QUICKLY.

(OHNOES SELF-DEPRECATING POLITICAL HUMOR. I HAVE CROSSED A LINE. MY BLOG IS ENDED NOW.)

The cause of – and solution to – all of life’s problems.

The money, of course, is also why Angela is finally starting to accept that Magnus MAY ACTUALLY BE a Viking. She’d seen a coin before, of course, but it was just the one that he sold to get the forty-odd thousand dollars back at Wal-Mart. She had no idea he had a whole chest full of it.

This revelation, of course, is interrupted by the arrival of her cousin, Carmen, who is apparently a busty, gorgeous woman who wears tight jeans, tight tank tops, and no underwear. It’s not long until we find out that she is The Token Feminist, and not long after that we find out exactly what Sandra Hill feels about feminists.

I’ve been looking forward to this, guys, let me tell you. Ever since Trekkiegirl told me about the fact that Sandra Hill writes in a feminist just so she can act out her darkest impulses about her.

Carmen, we find out, is a single mother. She lets her fourteen-year-old daughter dress in running shorts and a sports bra out in public, drink wine and coffee and anything else the girl wants, and talk back to family members. She herself disdains anyone who tells her how to raise her child, and will start any conversation with a man with an insult and a sad attempt at self-righteous quips.

“Yeah, right. Steroid city would be my guess.” Carmen continued to give him an impolite once-over, which pretty much said that he was a man and therefore his opinion did not matter. In fact, she tossed out, “Do you know what God said after he created man? He said, ‘I can do better.'”

“Huh?”

“You prove my point, macho man.”

I get the impression that Sandra Hill went out of her way to make Carmen the most caustic, unlikable person in the world, as a sort of Screw You to people like me – okay, maybe not people like me – who deride her work as offensive and hurtful to women. And so, we have Carmen.

Soon after Carmen arrives, a man pulls up and offers – once again, it seems – to purchase the Blue Dragon. It is TOTALLY NOT CONVENIENT AT ALL that he shows up the day after the arson and has apparently been pestering Angela and Grandma Rose about it for years. Magnus, of course, steps in and declares himself Angela’s new investor, which is entirely accurate – he did just drop (or is about to drop) a cool million dollars on the vineyard. Hell, even Feminist Carmen is impressed by this.

Y’know what? Nothing much happens for the next while – again, 40 pages of packing and unpacking and repacking and unpacking again – so I’m going to go ahead and Creat a Montage.

• Angela talks to Magnus’s daughters about their periods.
• Magnus is assaulted by his daughters about getting tattoos, going to the mall, going to school, going to sleepovers, and having boyfriends.
• Magnus royally pisses off Angela.

“What is it that you want, Magnus?” Angela asked, putting her hand on his.

He took her hand in his, twining their fingers, stared into her eyes steadily, and told her what his heart’s wish was.

“A cow.”

• This book is now my favoritest book ever again.
• Angela tells Magnus that “a hard-on does not equal true affection”. I LIKE ANGELA AGAIN.
• Magnus still wants a cow but he has learned not to say this out loud.

Soon enough, The Director at Universal Studios gets wind that Magnus doesn’t want to be his Viking anymore, and he – quite understandably – throws a snitfit and starts threatening lawsuits, and he takes back the van he lent them. So Angela piles all the Viklings up in Employee Juan’s van and brings them to the County Fair, where Magnus and Torolf once again are garnering female attention. ’cause, let’s face it, they’re wearing muscle-bearing shirts, and they’re ripped like Jesus.

Surprisingly, his attire did not look out of place with the etched silver bracelets on his upper arms, which he never seemed to take off. Torolf never removed his either, and more than a few teenage girls were giving him and his armrings a second glance. It didn’t hurt that he was wearing a black tank top and cutoffs, which showed off his muscles. He wasn’t as tall or as muscular as his father, though. Not for the first time, Angela likened Magnus to a tree.

OKAY SERIOUSLY WE GET IT ALREADY. MAGNUS IS A TREE.

…I feel better.

Alright, back to The Power Of Montage – COUNTY FAIR EDITION.

• The kids run around being kids. At a county fair. THERE ARE PAGES OF THIS.
• Apparently, the older boys aren’t the only ones that are anachronistically hot. Employee Juan – who is engaged, by the way – keeps staring at Magnus’s eldest daughters, who are just under eighteen.
• Magnus stares at the prize-winning cows and pigs.
• Magnus gives a Norse Remedy to a sick baby cow that would have otherwise been put down.
• Angela’s heart melts at all of the above.
• Later that night, they return to using Bad Agricultural Euphemisms.

“All that exposure to farmers at the fair today reminded me where my true talents lie. I have come to show you my technique for…plowing.”

“Naked?”

“‘Tis the best way.”

[…] “Wait till you see the straight rows I harrow.” Magnus stepped forward, crowding her against the tile wall.

“You’d better hope the ground is not too fertile.”

[…] “You are right. What I don’t need is more…uh, turnips.”

This apparently qualifies as HOT FOREPLAY CONVERSATION, ’cause then they start – for lack of a better word – plowing. And plowing. And goddamn even this is a bit much to read all at once.

We’re almost done, guys! I’ll call it here, and I think – not making any promises – that I can finish this in one more post. Up next: The Conversation About The Consequences Of Time Travel.

From now on, I’m going to start speeding up the chapters. I’ve been averaging about two or three per post, but I’ve read ahead a bit again, and they’re starting to get very uneventful. As in, nothing happens. It’s like how in The Princess Bride, where the narrator comments on how certain skipped sections of the “real” book were about forty pages of packing and unpacking and repacking? It’s like that.

What we’ve got so far is a book that’s about 90% refusing to accept what’s in front of them, and 10% trying to take what isn’t. The amount of incredulity is staggering, but that’s not my complaint – it’s rather the tacit acceptance of some pretty unbelievable things. If it were me, I’d freak out when I found out I had been flung a thousand years in the future. At the very least, I may have a bit of a “Everyone I know is dead” fugue state. Magnus? Marvel at how it works, then go traipsing out to find if he can still have sex.

You have to admit, the guy is dedicated.

(Again, NSFW tag on this from now on.)

Magnus Ericsson Has A Question. This is, to him, the most important question in the world, and he’s willing to walk five miles out to the nearest church to get an answer. He’s familiar with the Christian God, of course, even if he thinks it is a silly idea, but he respects priests of all kinds enough to Ask The Question. Which Grandma Rose thinks is “How can Angela and I get married?”

The real question, of course? “Will having sex with a condom break my celibacy vows?”

It’s a very close distinction, I’ll admit. You can’t blame anyone for getting confused.

The priest, of course, has a very welcome response to Magnus’s question. Condoms are unholy and vile things, but any celibacy vows that are not part of a priesthood is a matter between him and God. Which means Magnus has a lot more leeway to take advantage of.

Imperiously, he storms up to Angela’s condo and bursts in when she opens the door, slamming her against the wall and demanding she explain why she hasn’t had sex with him yet. Birth control exists, which means he has every right to tend his crops even if she said no. While she’s stammering at him pulling her clothes off her, he picks her up and forcibly starts plowing. Or at least has his farming implement fully – okay, look, I have trouble writing this and agricultural metaphors are failing me right now. He’s in her all the way and doesn’t move; he’s frozen.

Magnus opened his glazed eyes finally and blinked at her. Then he did the most outrageous thing. He pulled out of her, sank to the floor, and put his face on his arms, which were folded over his bent knees. She’d landed on her feet, but continued to lean back against the wall.

Oh, my God! He’s changed his mind. He doesn’t want me after all. Is it my body? Now that he’s really seen me naked, I’m probably not that desirable to him. “Magnus? What’s wrong?” She barely got the words out, so empty and bereft and, yes, still very aroused did she feel.

Without looking up at her, he said, “I came here in anger. I just realized that I do not want to make love to you in anger. Not the first time. Not ever.”

…

I…need to take a moment.

do do do do do do do do do DO…do do etc.

Let’s back up a second. Magnus comes in, doesn’t let Angela get a word edgewise, strips her completely, “impales her to the hilt” (like a spear, Angela notes), all out of anger, and she’s wondering what she did wrong.

I’m done. I’m just going to accept it and move on. I understand this is a thought pattern not uncommon to abused women (which it’s been hinted at with Angela, if not outright stated). I’ve also spent too much time discussing Twilight with Cleolinda to discount the appeal of this sort of indulgent fantasy. Here is a man who, like Edward Cullen – I hate myself for drawing this comparison, I’ll have you know – wants you so much that he can barely control himself, but he does stop himself because his love is so great it moves mountains. His concern for your needs supercedes his own.

Even if that need is to rape and pillage. That is how much he loves you.

I do get it. I don’t agree with it, but I understand it. Therefore, I’m moving on.

Angela finally agrees to sleep with Magnus, and he’s been so pent up that he’s champing at the bit. I mean, they’ve ground against each other so much thus far that his underpants must be crusty as all hell. He’s been waiting years and endured a time vortex and his wait is finally over. His penis is ready to explode is what I am trying to say.

So what does he do? Tie Angela up and go take a cold shower. Because of course.

With that, Magnus left the bedchamber and headed for the bathing chamber, where he intended to take a cold shower – or spill his own seed… anything to slow down his arousal for this love game he had started. In the meantime it would be good for Angela to anticipate what would come next.

Not that he knew what that would be.

He hoped she didn’t fall asleep waiting.

I was going to say something about how completely unrealistic for a temporally-shifted Viking in Los Angeles to immediately go for the hours of foreplay and focus specifically on the woman’s needs before his own, but then I sat down and looked at what I was writing. (It’s the “We live in a spaceship, dear” effect.)

And besides, I can’t really fault the author for this. It is girl porn, after all. A large part of female desire and tittilation (I am generalizing here for the sake of simple sentence structure) is a partner who is caring, devoted, attentive to her needs, focused on her pleasure and desires, and – this is important – knows what a clitoris looks like. And besides, it’s not like pretty much any of the fantastical situations in guys’ porn are any more plausible.

(I trust I don’t need any citations for that statement, but if I do, the Big Sausage Pizza line of videos are just one of many, many completely ridiculous examples.)

(No, I’m not linking it.)

So no, I have absolutely no problem with this idea that Magnus would be the perfect first-time lover. Which is why I will instead direct your attention to the Absurd Foreplay Conversation. I’m not going to re-type all of it, as that would bring me closer to violating Fair Use than I’m comfortable with, but I’ll list some highlights.

“Yes, sweetling. I am back. Did you miss me?”

Is that a trick question? She nodded.

“Speechless, are you? Now, that is a wonder.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“Nay, just gazing at your body… and wondering where to begin. Do you have any preferences?”

“Are you cold?”

She laughed. “Are you kidding? I’m hot, hot, hot.”

“You find humor in making mock of my manliness, do you, wench?” There was amusement in his voice now. “Ne’er have I had a woman compare my man part to a finger afore. The skalds would write a saga about this event, if they ever found out… which they will not. ‘Magnus the Needle-Cock’ or some such ignominious title, I would imagine.”

“Really, Magnus, you make much ado about nothing.”

“Ha! Do not ever tell a man the size of his man part is nothing.”

This last takes place just after Angela says that a man looking at a vagina is a woman’s worst nightmare.

On a completely unrelated side note, this book is dedicated to her deceased mother, who was her biggest fan in life, and Magnus is named after her grandfather. There is no point for me to mention this.

Not a moment too soon, the foreplay is over, and then…

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQlIhraqL7o]

After passing out from the exertion, Magnus wakes up and orders pizza. Because of course. While he’s waiting, he flips through a newspaper, marvels at how this new future is so different from his home, and checks out the comics.

Ah, who is this Hagar the Horrible? Methinks I would like to meet this dumb Norseman. He appears a fine, though misguided fellow.

Hand to God.

Magnus can’t hold it in anymore, though, and he tells Angela he’s from the past. Naturally, she doesn’t believe him, so they have sex. Then they go to Barnes and Noble to do some research on Vikings, where he lists off details and they check out, and they go to the parking lot and have sex. Later still, she leaves him at home to watch Viking stuff on the TV, and make plans to go have sex – spotting a theme here? – but they get interrupted by Grandma Rose calling.

Someone set the Blue Dragon on fire.

A few things to point out here before we get to the next couple chapters:

• Apparently, all you need to do to change a girl’s mind is to grab her and kiss her. MEN, WE’VE BEEN DOING IT WRONG THIS ENTIRE TIME.
• Vineyards are sexy places? It makes sense, I guess. Trekkiegirl and I have a few choices for honeymoon ideas.
• Johnny Cash’s cover of Personal Jesus is probably the best thing ever. This has nothing to do with the review, I just wanted to mention it.
• We miss you, Johnny.
• What I’m upset at most about the whole rageout incident last post is that I wasted a Chewbacca Defense. Those things don’t grow on trees!

I’d also like to mention that from here on out, it gets a bit Not Safe For Work. Which, for erotic fiction, is a bit of a given, but a disclaimer is a disclaimer.

So, pretty much every bit of Independent Woman Ideology Angela has accrued has been thrown out the window. Putting the entire Fighting Hard Against An Attacker Oh Wait He Kissed Me So It’s Okay situation aside, her next instinct is to figure out how to get the most out of this big strong man without letting him actually have sex with her.

Her solution?

Lots of dry humping.

Magnus had not tupped a girl fully clothed since he was a boy, and, oh, the sheer joy of it was beyond description.

[…] She was nigh wailing her pleasure as her woman’s cleft slid back and forth along the ridge of his erection.

After which, of course, she then firmly denies that she is his destiny and demands that the matter be closed. Because, after all, there is the simple matter of Magnus’s vow of celibacy.

But no! Magnus is gleeful!

“I mean, a man could still be called celibate if there is no completion… that is, if there is no satisfaction…” Any more satisfaction and my eyes will be permanently crossed. He stopped himself and exhaled with frustration at his difficulty explaining himself. “Oh, hell, what I mean to say is that the vow is still intact if there is no insertion of a male part into a female part. What we did is called a dry tup in my country, and, for a certainty, does not count.”

Oh, Magnus. Proof that men everywhen will delude themselves into thinking that women care about loopholes. “Blowjobs aren’t cheating.” “It doesn’t count if they’re in another area code.” “Cybering is just masturbation.” “I thought she was you.”

Look, ladies, is there anyone that still believes this? Did anyone ever in the first place? I may not be wholly representative of the jackass male population, but these things have always struck me as extremely flimsy excuses to “justify” various things.

But! I do feel slightly better about Angela now, because even she sees that as a ridiculous thing to say, and she starts laughing in his face. Step it up, girl.

But wait, where’s Grandma Rose during all this? Watching the whole thing from the window like the perverted voyeur she is. Not content to watch her granddaughter vike off, she then swears to make MORE PHYSICS-BENDING PRAYERS TO THE VIRGIN MARY. Why? To ensure that she and Magnus hit it off.

And boy, do they ever. Despite Angela’s grumbling the next morning (including a shameless 9/11 reference that I am saddened to see exploited here), she can’t help but feel attracted all the more to the man as she pulls him away from tilling her fields to, well, till her fields. Fully clothed, of course.

During all this, of course, Grandma Rose keeps taking the children into the city to go shopping, and the viklings are getting more and more Americanized by the day, to Magnus’s consternation. He keeps worrying about what happens when they make it back to The Norselands, where there is none of this stuff available, but then he gets on a mental tangent about how wonderful zippers are. No, seriously, a whole huge paragraph devoted to zippers.

He and Angela continue to give each other false starts throughout the next day, and finally resolve to have a conversation about it that night in the gazebo. To which Angela shows up in a bathrobe, and silky lingerie underneath. After professing she only wanted to talk.

Yeah. Try that again, love.

It is there and then that they strike The Deal, which is that they can titillate each other all they want, but all they can do is dry hump each other until eternity. No sex, Angela insists.

And then? The dry humping. Oh, god. Pages and pages of constant and frequent instances of “almost-sex”, as they call it, to the point where it looks almost Seussian.

She will do him on a tractor
Timeliness is not a factor
She will do him for a song
She will do him all night long

I’d like to take a moment here and talk about how Sandra Hill loves to take metaphors that work and run them into the ground. I’ve mentioned it before – Magnus is a tree we get it already – but it bears mentioning again. Not only does she make the tree comparison again – and his magnificent branch – but Magnus starts going on and on about his “tent pole”.

Even in this dim light – even with his jaw-keys – he could see his man part standing up like a tent pole. He could also see Angela trying her best not to notice his…uh, tent pole, which was an impossibility. ‘Twould be like ignoring an elephant in a brass tub. ‘Twas one of the best things about Vikings, his brother Geirolf always said – their tent poles.

I am never making this up.

Anyway, they go on about eight times total in the span of two days – I counted – until Monday comes and Angela leaves for the city to go to work.

It’s then that Magnus, grabbing a bottle of six-year-old wine, sees the label declaring its vintage as 1997. Which means he is just now finding out that it is 2003.

fffffuuuuuuuuuuuu—

But wait! Torolf, his older son, mentions that he found out about this Wonderful Device that prevents pregnancy during sex. A fact that Magnus completely understands that Angela knew, and declares that she LIED to him, that the dry humping was NOT the only way he could keep his celibacy. As far as he can tell, at least; he recognizes that he should probably ask someone else about vows like that.

So he goes off to ask someone if they know more about vows.

FFFFFFFFFFUUUUUU–

Awesome Euphemisms
(Or, Light up the Dayna Signal)

• […] her woman cleft rode the hard ridge of his manhood.
• “You could say I am randy as a springtime bull whose blood has been heating all winter long. And believe you me, it has been a long winter for me.”
• […] and Angela was faced with an astounding fact. Magnus resembled a tree in height; she’d known that from the first. Now she knew that he had some very impressive branches…one in particular.

Alright, Internets. Let’s chat. I want to get back into The Funny – and I read ahead a little bit, there’s definitely The Funny to get back into – but I really need to get this out of my system first.

Gather ’round, and get something to snack on, ’cause I’ve needed to work something out for myself.

Got it? Good.

I had a minor rageout on the last installment of Very Virile Viking: A Voracious and Vivid Viewing of, to use the Vernacular, a Veritable Volume of the Vocation of a Venerated Vocabularian. (Damnit, I know that last one isn’t a word but I’m doing this off the top of my head and can’t think of a proper V-synonym for writer.)

It occurs to me (read: it has been pointed out to me) that the subject matter – that of the dividing line between forceful seduction and rape fantasy – has been a staple of romance novels for a long time. This is, of course, news to me, seeing as this is the first romance novel I’ve ever seriously read, and I had always assumed the term “Bodice Rippers” meant simply that the lovemaking was so passionate that there was collateral damage to various bits of clothing.

It’s obviously a hot-button subject. Considering this has been prevalent in the genre for a while (although somewhat dwindling in past decades, thankfully), it must be Socially Acceptable in some fashion, which leads me to the following point:

I get it. I do. I may not like it, but I understand a lot of it – especially after a couple recent conversations with some good friends about it.

At least, I think I understand it so far. This is new subject matter for me, even if it’s not for all of you guys, so let me know if I’m on track here, okay?

There’s a lot about forceful seduction, ravishment, and sometimes even rape fantasy that appeals to unconscious (or maybe even active) desires. It’s wish-fulfillment, in some form or another; the idea that a man wants you so much he is driven to physically grabbing you and taking you right there on the spot? That in itself is hot, especially if the men around you (or the man you may be pining after) tend more towards the passive and uncertain. I’m certainly not denying that.

And no, I don’t think women are stupid. I know people aren’t going to read scenes like this and think, “Wow, no wonder my sex life has been so horrible, this is how it’s supposed to be!” It’s adult stories for adult readers with adult concepts in them, and they’re fantasy and fiction which means OBVIOUSLY THIS IS NOT TRUE. I mean, sure, it’s one thing if impressionable teenagers and younger girls (who are already confused enough about sex and love and romance as it is) are being deluged with books about how stalking is okay so long as he’s hot, and how if you tell teachers that a boy is being creepy to you and stalking you they will only put you in situations that facilitate it and call you a priss for not being able to understand THAT IT MEANS HE LIKES YOU, because while teenagers are not stupid by default, that whole age period is about learning what is right and what is wrong SO PLEASE STOP TELLING THEM THAT THIS IS RIGHT AND OKAY, IT IS NOT OKAY.

It is an interesting point (as long as I’m bringing up Twilight) that on average I’ve noticed it’s the people my age (roughly 20-35) that have the most problems with the stalking and codependency and forceful seduction and one-dimensional characters, while the older women (40+ mothers) and youngest girls (7-16) don’t really seem to find any fault with it. (Please note: These are personal observations, generalizations for sake of easy reference, and backed by absolutely no research whatsoever. Don’t worry about correcting me with specific individual experiences.)

Why is this the case? I had a conversation the other night with Trekkiegirl about that, actually, which shed some perspective on it; this was how relationships were back then. What was romantic and desirable decades ago would be considered stalking today – I know I was able to use this to my advantage with my parents for a stand-up routine. It gets exponentially worse the further back I go; I’ve been on a Mad Men binge lately. That’s how it was portrayed back then. It may have still sucked back then but people didn’t even think about changing it. That’s why it is such a staple of romantic fiction, is because women (at least older women) are familiar and even comfortable with it.

Taking it even further, Trekkiegirl provided me with a more personal observation; her mother was a huge fan of General Hospital, and especially Luke and Laura, TV’s Original OTP. Enough so that she even named her daughter Laura (although it was also partly because she was a huge fan of the movie Laura) and was seriously considering naming her son Luke. For those of you like myself who have never watched General Hospital, Luke originally raped Laura, but fan feedback was so positive to the idea of them being a couple that the writers retconned it to make it okay. The controversy over this goes on to this day, especially over the fact that it was so okay to viewers at the time.

It’s pretty horrifying for me, a self-labelled feminist man who is barely through his 20s. Especially because of all the truly strong, independent female role models I grew up surrounded by. It’s why I had that immediate reaction reading that section, and why it took me a bit to actually sit down and think (and have the awesome discussions) and formulate my thoughts on the matter.

So, to recap, here’s what I’ve learned:

• It was not rape, as it turned out.
• Even “rape fantasy” is consensual, because the woman okays it. This is still talking about fantasy and fictional scenarios and possibly consensual bedroom roleplaying, I really don’t want to dwell too much on it at the moment.
• Sometimes women want to be “swept away”, even – and maybe especially – if it means losing control.
• I need to man up and move on.
• REAL LIFE RAPE IS STILL NOT OKAY. RAPE CULTURE IS STILL NOT OKAY.
• Francisco Franco is still dead.

…I think that’s about it. Next up: Dry Humping!

(I wish I was kidding about that.)

So, it looks like I’m breaking even at about two chapters a post. Maybe I’ll push faster with this, maybe not; I’m really doing this on a “what can I handle at any given time” basis. Given that I’m told this is more on the “Erotic Fiction” side of things, there may be a whole lot in the middle that I can compress for time. Unless, of course, there are things that need to be brought to the attention of the whole.

Most likely in the form of a “Dayna Signal” section, as I did in the first part.

Anyway, this book so far has been an exercise in “WOW LOOK AT HOW CONVENIENT EVERYTHING IS”. I mean, we have:

• The fact that Magnus gets summoned (through prayer) to the precise time and place where there is a woman.
• Said woman HAS A FARM.
• Said woman also has a grandmother who is all “I WANT THERE TO BE BABIES LOTS OF BABIES” which is especially funny considering:
• He is the Very Virile Viking and can’t walk two steps without making a baby.
• BABIES EVERYWHERE.
• And by the way, he now has to live with her.
• Oh, and he’s freakin’ rich.

I’m just glad that she can’t stand him and hopefully that will forever be the case. I NEED TO BELIEVE THIS.

*sob*

The very first thing I’d like to get out of the way? I’m already sick of the pseudo-phonetic misspellings of modern words and names. Magnus is from the past. He’s Norse. WE GET IT ALREADY. It was old and tired when Ax did it, and it’s just getting in the way here. It is totally messing with my immersion, you guys.

Magnus and company are staying at Angela’s condo for a few days. Her smallish condo in which she is normally the sole occupant. This is an important plot device, of course, because it allows for such hilarity as Angela coming across the freshly-showered Magnus, who promptly uses the “Hey look I’m not entirely naked underneath this towel do you want to see?” tactic. This maneuver is the Iron Lotus of Odd Couple scenarios; hard to pull off (har) but if done properly, awards bonus points.

“I am not naked,” he said. “I have wrapped one of your towels around me, and I am wearing a pair of those jaw-key shorts under that. Wouldst like to see?” He stood and was about to remove the towel.

“No!” she shouted. Holey moley! Could her heart really stand such an intimate view of six-feet, five inches of drop-dead-gorgeous bare skin and muscle?

Looks like that one will have to go to the judges.

There’s plenty of good news, though! Magnus and his kids are quickly acclimating to modern-day American English and various technology by simply watching television. They’re concepts that aren’t foreign enough to scare them – his kids in particular are delighted with teenage fashion and music – and they generally take to the 21st Century with a minimum of fuss.

I was all set to tear this apart, honestly, until I sat down and thought about it. If I was brought to the future, where there were marvels and concepts I had never even dreamed of, I’d be delighted and want to run around and try everything I could, and maybe even have some mall-related wackiness. So I really can’t fault Sandra Hill for not taking the “WHAT IS THIS DEMONRY” approach, even if it results in Magnus forbidding his children from watching Sex and the City, getting Britney Spears navel piercings, and talking like Bart Simpson.

(I have a feeling I should just make a button here on WordPress that inserts the phrase “I wish I was making this up”. It will save a lot of time.)

Despite the fact that she’s taking these ten crazy people into her home against her will, which is seriously crimping her personal life (and exponentially increasing her water bill), Angela can’t help but be taken with the loving manner in which Magnus treats his children. He’s gruff and overprotective, sure, but he treats each of them with the amount of attention they require – playful and tender with baby Lida, gruff with the teenage girls, and slightly challenging of the older boys. She also gets somewhat cryptic confirmation from Grandma Rose that they were sent to her with prayer, and she really doesn’t know what to think about that.

After three days of this, though? Everyone’s slightly crazy from being cooped up, and Magnus is suffering from not being able to vike around – despite living with a beautiful woman – and they’re all a bit frazzled, so it’s a huge relief when Angela calls from work (Magnus mastered the telephone solely to order pizza) and tells them to get ready to hit the beach.

It turns out that Our Boy Magnus and his older sons are way more of knockouts than the standard SoCal surfer dudes, because women keep propositioning them. But Magnus stays with Angela and his kids, making sandcastles and such with baby Lida, and Angela continues to be charmed by how good a father he is.

Let’s hope she never hears about him trying to Return To Sender Lida. That might not go over so well.

She’s pretty amazed to hear that he’s currently celibate, especially considering the way he looks. Even though anyone could see it’s a good idea when he has eleven children by almost as many mothers.

My mind is boggling here. A man this hot, and he’s celibate. Well, at least he’s not gay. “All those sizzling looks you keep giving me, and you are celibate?” Those words were blurted out before she had a chance to curb her tongue.

“I said that I took a vow, m’lady. I did not say that my man part fell off.”

After some rather uneventful beach wackiness and some more unsuccessful attempts at Magnus to flirt with Angela, they decide it’s finally time to head to the Vineyard, where there’s a lot more room for the family.

At last, away from the high-rises and technology of L.A.! Magnus nearly wets himself when they make it to the Blue Dragon; he can smell the freshly-tilled fields and breathe the pollution-free air of the countryside.

Grandma Rose is just as excited to see them all, of course, and she immediately starts fussing over baby Lida.

Alright, I’ll take back what I said back at the beginning; Grandma Rose is all about the babies. Baby this, baby that, when are you going to have babies Angela there really needs to be babies running about the place.

I may be a man, but I like to think of myself as somewhat of a feminist. And not a Joss Whedon “but my female characters kick a lot of ass after they’re done crying about men” feminist, an actual one. I’ve grown up with more strong female role models surrounding me than most video games combined – my mother, for one, is a kickass, take-charge kind of woman who owned her own business for 20 years, played as many sports as she was allowed to back in the 70s, and got cancer and kicked it in the testicles. My older sister may be as smart as I am but she’s got way more of a work ethic, and is a successful physics teacher with a Masters in Biomedical Engineering. My best friends have all been strong women with their own lives and success as their forefront, and didn’t for a minute think they needed a man and babies to actually be women. Many of them are married and some do have kids, but that’s just an aspect of their lives.

And yet, the lesson in this book seems to be that Angela is less than a woman because she focuses on her job instead of settling down and raising children. Grandma Rose, as awesome as she may have appeared at the beginning, only perpetuates this, to the effect that she WARPED TIME AND SPACE to get her granddaughter a man who would complete her. I have a serious problem with this concept. There’s an episode of Drawn Together that involves Princess Clara’s octopussoir having been removed and now living a life of its own with a family – the joke is that “A 39-year-old Jewish woman will marry anything“. Which…I get why a lot of women feel that way. It’s hammered into them by older relatives, chauvanistic men, society, and there’s not a lot of escape from that. I get it.

And yet, it’s 2010, and the world is a different place than it was sixty years ago. Hell, it’s a different place than it was ten years ago. Equality and acceptance keep getting brought up into the public eye, and women are more equal now than they have ever been before – and then things like this get published, where the Ideal Woman Reader Proxy is being told, time and again, that she is nothing without a man and children. Sure, she’s got a successful job – so successful that she’s the one bankrolling an entire vineyard. She’s making deals with Hollywood execs. This is an amazing position for a modern woman to be in, and yet that’s what is apparently wrong with her.

I digress. It’s a bad habit of mine, tangenting into rants like that. Back to the funny, I promise.

WOOKIEE DEFENSE TIME.

Ladies and Gentlemen of this supposed jury…

Angela is fairly upset that her grandmother and the vineyard staff have all fallen in love with Magnus, and are talking about the Italian-Viking babies that would result. This naturally cheeses her off, so naturally she decides to Have A Talk with Magnus.

This, of course, backfires, since the entire time he’s laying on that Hot Nordic Charm. It’s apparent to him that she is resisting all of his advances, and this of course makes him want her all the more. So he starts stroking her hair despite her standing up to try to walk away from him, grabbing her and pulling her closer, no matter how hard she tries to resist…

Whoa! Whoa whoa whoa whoa! BACK OFF THERE. HOLD THE GODDAMN PHONE.

After a surprised squeal of dismay at his quick maneuver, she squirmed and shoved and tried to escape his embrace. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Oh, lady, you do not really want to know. “Thanking you. I told you that I wanted to thank you for bringing me here, and this is what I am doing.”

WHAT.

This is NOT OKAY. She’s fighting you, dude. You’re a guest in her house, and she is fighting to get away from you.

And you, Angela, what the hell do you think you’re doing? FIGHT BACK HARDER. Don’t stop and wonder why he keeps complimenting you! YOU ALREADY HAD ONE ABUSIVE MARRAIGE, YOU KNOW BETTER GIRL.

I’m serious. Magnus is able to get stronger holds on her every time he compliments her and thanks her for bringing him to her home, because then she relaxes for a second while she tries to figure out if she’s happy he said it.

And then HE KISSES HER AND SHE MELTS.

I’m done. I don’t get it. I give up trying to fight it; this is apparently a thing. I don’t know WHY this is a thing, but it is and I am going to have to just roll with it. But SERIOUSLY, guys, right after my “Yay feminism and be a strong woman” rant?

*deep breath*

*another deep breath*

*as many deep breaths as it takes*

*look guys she deep breaths more so get to the side or it’s a fucking 50 DKP minus HANDLE IT*

Alright. So. I’ve now taken a few minutes to collect myself, and re-read the passages, and read ahead a tiny bit. I’ve also gotten a female perspective on these sorts of literary devices. I’m not going to get into it right now, but I accept there’s a difference between rape and ravishing, and there’s a whole conversation about that I’ll probably go into detail on later. Suffice it to say, there’s a subtle difference between being unwillingly taken and forcefully persuaded, and when a writer isn’t clear it can lead to a whole lot of shocking confusion.

Seriously, what the hell.

I’ll get into this later. Chapter’s not done but I can pick that up next post.

Well, I’m pretty gobsmacked. I had to end the last section at page 42, at the end of Chapter Two. I still don’t know what’s going to happen next; as I said, I’m going into this completely blind, so I’m not reading ahead. You guys get my honest reactions right as I read them, since I’m writing this as I go.

Seriously, I’m only two chapters in, and I’ve already learned the following things:

• Apparently, the power of a single prayer from an old woman to the Virgin Mary is enough to COUNTERACT THE LAWS OF PHYSICS. Don’t be stingy, Grandma Rose; where’s my break in radio? You pulled twelve people through time and across the freakin’ world, you can get me a simple internship at Q101.
• Whales can sense temporal disturbances, but they still need a stolen Klingon ship to travel through time. Some help they are.
• I was going to nitpick about how a wooden ship survived an overnight trip from “The Norselands” all the way through North America to get to the West Coast, but it also was propelled 1,003 years into the future so I can forgive a little lateral movement on the space/time axis.
• Clichés apparently don’t matter if you use enough of them. This book is in a whole line of (apparently) successful Viking Romance novels from the same author.

Also, I want to point out how transparent the plot is so far. First off, we have Magnus, who loves to farm, has a lot of children, and has trouble finding a woman who is accepting of both. On the other hand is Angela, who is trying to save her farm, her grandmother wants children running about the place, and has trouble dealing with men of a modern mentality. HMMMMMMMMMMM.

They come from different eras but hey here’s a temporal instability (THAT THE WHALES ARE TRYING TO WARN YOU ABOUT, MAGNUS) that throws them together.

All this in less than fifty pages. Seeing as this is the first romance novel I’ve ever read, I want you guys to assure me that the plots aren’t as telegraphed as this one is. They get better, right guys?

Guys?

Please?

We open Chapter Three with Angela at Universal Studios, negotiating her way into letting them film a movie at the Blue Dragon Vineyard. The Director is making too low of an offer and seems to be chafing when she reiterates her initial demand of five hundred thousand. We find out that it’s because he’s also working on a Viking movie – a remake of an old Kirk Douglas flick, to be exact – but his lead didn’t want to vike around on a wooden boat and a fake-stormy sea, couldn’t stand the outfit, and couldn’t stand the supposed hottest actress on the planet, so he told The Director to vike off and flounced away.

As she’s closing the deal, the director notices that there are people on board his fake Viking ship in the lot. Angela, of course, can’t resist taking a peek at what he’s talking about, and so we have this glorious description of her first glimpse at Magnus.

Standing with legs widespread on the prow of the longship was a man who could only be described as…well…a Viking. He was six-foot-five, at least, with long, light brown hair streaked with blond highlights – probably from riding a surfboard and not because he’d been riding the ocean waves on some ancient dragonship.
[…]
In one hand he held a huge sword. In the other arm he held a little blond-haired girl dressed in an old-fashioned pinafore-style gown. The most amazing thing of all was the group with this…this…Viking on a longship. Not just the toddler in his arm but a bunch of other kids as well. She quickly counted. Nine in all, each dressed in ancient attire that she surmised was the way the old Norse would have been garbed.

First of all, let me point out that Magnus should have eleven children at this point; he had ten in the beginning, and then The Littlest Tax Deduction got FedExed to him. That’s her in his other arm, and eight more behind him, which means that his other two children either A: didn’t survive the Time Vortex, B: are belowdecks or hidden behind other kids and thus Angela can’t see them, or C: fell overboard, despite Magnus’s insistence that they all tie themselves to eachother to prevent nautical sleepwalking accidents. That, or Magnus “accidentally” untied a couple of them. It seems like the kind of thing he’d do.

Secondly, the comparison is made to Kevin Sorbo. Which I get, yes, but honestly that’s probably the easiest comparison in the world to make. This body type is pretty much dime-a-dozen in this field; you could have chosen almost anyone. But who does she go for? Captain Forehead.

The poor man’s Fabio.
Alternately, the rich man’s Brendan Fraser.

While Angela’s salivating over Magnus from afar, The Director is doing a bit of salivating of his own. Forget an actor who has dramatic training and even knows what cameras are. Hire on an unwashed vagrant who simply looks the part! It costs less!

Ladies and Gentlemen, the Uwe Boll School of Hollywood Casting.

Let me take a step back here and mention that so far, the perspective shifts have been jarring. Sandra Hill does keep things in third person limited pretty well, but for jarring transitions and unclear internal dialogue, things can get a bit wonky.

I mention this because we have a sudden and awkward jump to Magnus, who is dealing with his new surroundings surprisingly well. In fact, none of it really bothers him all that much, except for The Unbearable Heat and – this is my favorite – the fact that he can’t tell where these strange people have their farms in the midst of all these shiny buildings. I don’t mean the farming euphemisms for sex I was using earlier, I mean actual farms. Sure, the buildings are strange, and the people look different, and the women wear pants (the harlots) (even though the world harlot meant vagrant/tramp/bum, was used for males, and didn’t exist before the 13th century), and hey look there are strange machines that move around without horses, BUT WHERE DO PEOPLE FARM? Hey, person with blue clothing and a strange weapon in your hand, why are you yelling at me like that, AND WHERE IS YOUR FARM I CANNOT UNDERSTAND THIS.

I think I’m in love with this book now.

Also, point of interest here, apparently sixteen-year-olds in Magnus’s time speak in an extremely literal, almost school-book fashion, which makes me wonder if all Sandra Hill knows about “Norselands” is what she learned from watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I submit to you the following:

“Dost think we have entered the Land of the Dead?”
“That fiery first level of the Norse underworld, comparable to the Christian hell?” Torolf shook his head.

Magnus and the kids react to their new surroundings and are approached by Universal Studios security, and Magnus contemplates that the magic fog that brought them here must have made it so they can understand English, which is at least an attempt to explain that. It was seriously bugging me until then, so I’m glad I don’t have to nitpick at that anymore. While he’s pondering this, he’s approached by The Director, who wastes absolutely no time in trying to schmooze up to him.

Anachronistic wackiness ensues. Lots of the standard “I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN, STRANGE PERSON, AND I DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOUR EXPRESSIONS”, with basic gesture and idiom confusion being the bulk of it. Magnus refuses to hand over his favorite sword – Head Lopper (!) – while the children start squabbling over who gets to go grab his other weapons so they can defend the ship.

Of course, it’s not long until they get off the ship and Magnus comes face to face with Angela, and let me tell you, Internet: Our boy is smitten, right off the boat. She is an older-than-he-normally-prefers goddess with black hair and dark brown eyes (see I told you guys), with “kiss-some” lips, a mole he would love to do nasty things to, and legs that make him want to drop his baby girl and run his hands over.

Her long legs were covered with transparent silk hose, and on her feet were black leather shoes with thin, high heels. If his hands were not occupied with the babe, he would be unable to restrain himself from touching that long, long stretch of winsome leg. Not just touching, either. Licking would be good, too.

Emphasis is, of course, mine.

Already, he is having thoughts that this woman is his soulmate, that she is his – dare I say it – destiny. He smacks his kids around a bit when they make fun of him for ogling her, and immediately starts panicking. What if she’s already married? What if she doesn’t want to return with him to The Norselands? What if, god forbid, she doesn’t like farms?

We are, of course, missing Angela’s reaction shot, but don’t worry, the next chapter opens up with the following:

The man was a tree…

Which…really sums it up. But no, we’re not left there; she goes on to describe his arms and legs as tree limbs, and promptly begins to continue referring to him as “The Tree”. Because – as we learned about farming – once we’ve found a metaphor that works, we may as well keep using it.

But despite her panting for breath and the fact that she cannot take her eyes off him, she tells herself that she Does Not Like Him. He is everything that her ex-husband (The Creep) was – muscled, imperious, bristling with weaponry – and the whole Viking motif is obviously a plea for attention and she can’t stand attention whores. She hates everything he stands for so much that she’s going to keep standing there and staring at him for as long as she can.

What follows is a bit of back and forth between Magnus and Angela that is really awkward and embarassing to read. He is smitten with her, and she keeps putting him down. He doesn’t understand these newfangled machines and New World Concepts, and she’s sure, absolutely sure that he’s putting on a show to get hired for the Viking movie.

Unfortunately for her, The Director wants none other, and due to some strange thing in the contract for the previous guy he needs Magnus and The Littlest Vikings out of the public eye. Guess who has a lot of land where nobody goes, that’s vaguely farmlike, and who happens to need The Director to be in a good mood?

And so, Angela takes a Viking family to Wal-Mart. (This is a sentence I never thought I would write.)

(Oh, and we find out what happened to his other two children; they did stay behind after all. Or so Magnus claims.)

It’s pretty standard fare stuff, where Magnus is aghast at the sheer amounts of fruits and vegetables just lying there on the shelves, and where everyone is forced to buy underwear, and Lida The Baby gets changed, and Angela gets more and more confused and upset at the fact that these people don’t know anything about Wal-Mart. She makes a comment that Magnus stinks to High Asgard, and so he grabs an armful of – what else? – Old Spice.

Look at your Viking. Now back to me.
Now back at your Viking. NOW BACK TO ME.
That is the man your man could smell like.

Of course, there’s a bit of a problem when Magnus tries to pay for all his brood’s purchases with a gold coin, but Angela has him take it over to the antique/coin shop across the street and he gets at least forty thousand dollars for it. And he has chests full of them back in the car.

This is the point where I start to lose interest in Angela as a character, because up until now, she’s tried to fight the lust-at-first-sight impulse and stay cynical about the whole thing. Now? It turns out that he’s freakin’ rich, so she starts taking interest.

Of course, it could be construed as the first sign that his story is true. If that’s the case, then I’ll forgive her.

Just this once.

Let me start out by saying that the copy I received did not have the chestacular cover you see to the right. The bookstores nearby were out of this book. Amazon didn’t have it at the time that Trekkiegirl tried to order it for me. We ended up having to trawl the local libraries’ web catalog and see who had it in stock, and then go through the spinners of their romance sections to find it and then suffer the amused looks of all the librarians at the front desk when we checked it out.

On a completely unrelated note, it’s amazing how many covers of romance novels have a top-heavy man who seems to have trouble finding buttons for his shirts and a woman about half his size. Apparently the female body needs to be completely dwarfed to be fully satisfied? I’m just saying, if I was a woman, I wouldn’t want a slab of muscle like that on top of me for fear of being crushed to death.

(Also, what is that? Is he attacking the reader? Seriously what kind of pose is that I can’t even.)

According to the back of the book, this promises a lot of anachronistic wackiness in addition to many romantic interludes, so let’s flip on the Flux Capacitor and take this Nordic nonsense out for a spin!

Please note: I am going into this COMPLETELY BLIND and am, in fact, writing this post as I read it.

We begin this crazy adventure in “The Norselands”, apparently because the word Scandinavia was trademarked. Was there ever a place actually called The Norselands in the history of ever? I ask because I just did a couple searches right now and all I could find with that exact phrase was custom maps for Age of Mythology, and the setting for four Xena episodes and a gloriously-titled episode of Hercules. (“Norse by Norsevest“)

It is the year 999, which the book claims that were “the days of old where men were…whatever…”

No, really. That’s precisely what it says, right on the first page. The book doesn’t care enough to make something up.

Hand to God. It’s right there.

Not to worry, though! We’re introduced to Magnus Ericsson, a man who is about as far from being “whatever” as you can imagine! He has four absolute favorite things, including farming and farming-related euphemisms.

He loved the smell of fresh-turned dirt after spring-time plowing. He loved the feel of a soft woman under him in the bed furs… when engaged in another type of plowing. He loved the heft of a good sword in his fighting arm. He loved the low ride of a laden longship after a-viking in far distant lands.

Viking, as it turns out, is a verb as well as a noun. It’s a good thing Vikings have such strong arms that they can not only hold swords, but also spend time viking around! And also “viking around”, which I think is a much better term for tilling a lady’s field.

Of course, sowing his seeds in every mound he finds has a huge drawback because, lest we forget, he is a Very Virile Viking. Ten little vikings all in a row, calling him Faðir day in and day out. Thank the gods that a few of them died, otherwise he’d have more!

Ten in all! That was the side of his brood, despite the loss of a son and a daughter to normal childhood ills and mishaps.

Y’know, like Scandinavian Norselands Flu, and the annual Take Your Daughter To Pillaging Day, which was very embarassing for everyone.

Anyway, Magnus is royalty of some kind. Or, his parents were, and there’s pressure on him to take over the family’s holdings from his Uncle Olaf. He doesn’t want to give up plowing his fields or “plowing his fields”, and so what follows is at least half a year’s worth of dithering back and forth about how much he wants to be with women but how he can’t avoid having children keep popping up in his life.

Case in point: His newest daughter has been mailed to him by merchant ship from some town he visited once and he tries to refuse delivery and have her sent back. I’M NOT EVEN KIDDING HE SPENDS LIKE FIVE PAGES TRYING TO DO THIS.

“Take her back whence she came,” Magnus demanded.
“I cannot,” Ragnor said. “She came on that trading knorr from Hedeby. […] [Her mother] died recently of the brothel disease.”

So far, I’ve come to learn two things from this book:

• Magnus can’t keep it in his pants leather loincloth thing, and
• The laws against the shipment of human cargo weren’t in effect 1,011 years ago. Which is a seriously frightening concept; did everyone just pack babies onto boats, then push it downstream and pray? I honestly didn’t think it happened outside Ancient Egypt.

He vikes around for a bit and lusts after the new serving girl – at least until he finds out his two oldest sons are currently threshing her wheat. At the same time. And a third is about to grab his spade and join them when Magnus stops him and, we assume, the whole affair. Probably so he can save all the harvesting for himself – although, at this point he’s almost paralyzed with the fear that he can conceive a child just by looking at a woman. I really, really wish I was making this up.

His friends aren’t helping, either. Harek the Huge (yes, really) has “found a solution” to his problem and has rounded up every willing woman in the area who is unable to conceive. Of course, they’re all either A: terribly old, B: extremely overweight, or C: already pregnant, so he shuns them all out of hand. Are you paying attention, ladies? Magnus is your man. He is here for you. He understands your needs. As long as you’re hot.

Speaking of, let’s take a look at our next contestant! She’s young, she’s hip, she’s got a BMW and a vineyard in California’s beautiful Sonoma Valley; let’s say hello to Angela Abruzzi! Coming to us all the way from 2003, Angela has both coal-black hair and coal-black eyes, which is something I haven’t ever seen before, not even in the craziest Harry Potter Mary Sue fanfiction I’ve been subjected to over the years. The closest I’ve ever seen in eye color would be my own; they’re about as dark a brown as you can get. Maybe that’s what it is, or maybe Angela just has the soulless black eyes ’cause she’s effectively lifeless in her current situation. I’m calling that comparison right now; let’s see if I’m right.

It doesn’t hurt my theory that Angela runs the Vineyard to the exclusion of a social life and has Views About Men; namely, attractive ones tend to venture off and irrigate other grapes. She’d much rather work her real estate job to keep paying the bills on the vineyard, which incidentally is about to run into the ground.

Grandma Rose, though? I love Grandma Rose. She’s a snarky old woman who dresses like this old hippy woman I saw one time at Black Market Minerals, with the faded jeans and tank top and mud-caked sneakers. She tops that ensemble with an eighteen-carat-gold cigarette holder.

Here, of course, is where descriptions get confusing, and I attribute this fully to the writing style. Twice now, in the span of three pages, I’ve had to go back and re-read things because Sandra Hill has a problem with multiple ideas in single paragraphs. It appears that Grandma Rose is the one with the job and who’s paying for the Blue Dragon Vineyard, but a few pages later it shows us that Angela’s the one who’s a workaholic. It also spends a paragraph talking about Grandma Rose and the people she spends time with, and a casual mention of “her marriage to The Creep”, which makes me think that it’s Grandma Rose’s old marriage, right?

And, God knew, she couldn’t blame Angela for failing to have children with the Creep.

I went back at least three times to make sure I didn’t just misread the original paragraph, but no, it’s just poorly written.

It turns out that the vineyard will be saved by a director that wants to film a Romance Movie there. Angela gets Rose’s permission on the basis that Angela finds a man and has children, because that’s all that Grandma wants, really. Children to be running around the vineyard. There’s a whole feminist argument to be had here about children and being the end-all be-all of any woman’s life (which of course is the most obvious and natural implication), but I’ll skip over that and say “HMMMMMMMMMM”.

“Okay, I’ll look harder. I promise. It will be at the top of my list.” She pretended to be writing herself a note on the palm of her hand. “One…good…man.”

“Oh, I don’t know about good. Virile would be better.”

[…]”Virile?”

“Very virile.”

HMMMMMMMMMMMM.

We cut back a thousand years to Magnus and his children, who are on a ship going somewhere for some reason. They’re all tied together at the ankle to make sure that if one of them sleepwalks overboard, they all get pulled under to die as a family. And what’s this? Magnus’s teenage son is making fun of him for taking a vow of celibacy? Seriously, dude, if the guy has any more of you he’s going to have to kill the largest to provide food for all the others. Let the man not farm if he doesn’t want to farm.

It turns out they’re at sea ’cause Magnus’s uncle, Erik the Red (no, really), doesn’t want them back there, because Magnus doesn’t care about teaching his children manners and they embarassed him there. So they decided to cross the seas to That New Place Leif, Erik’s son discovered, where there were grapes-aplenty, and sure, the occasional pesky red-skinned savage would come by and scalp people but it was a paradise, really!

…no, really.

As they sleep lashed together on the ships, Magnus hears the cries of killer whales and thinks hey, maybe that is a warning of some kind. And as they sleep, their ship drifts away from the other two, and Magnus dreams of an old woman praying for a man to arrive. He tries not to be skeeved out by this, but when he wakes up, the fog parts and they spot a mountain. Miraculously able to understand English, Magnus reads the words on the side of the mountain as “HOLLYWOOD”.

HMMMMMMMMMMM.

Awesome Euphemisms (Or, Light Up The Dayna Signal):

• “It was not yet spring, but his sap was running high.”

I do want to reveal the first book reviewed, though, in anticipation of its arrival. Thus, the first book that will be done here on Straight Guy Reviews of Bad Romance Novels will be…

*drumroll*

The Very Virile Viking by Sandra Hill.

Ladies and gentlemen, let it be known that I have absolutely no foreknowledge about this book, save that it apparently is about a viking who is good at having sex and/or siring children. All I really do know is that Trekkiegirl has been foaming at the mouth for me to cover this.

I hope you guys enjoy it. I’ll have more news when it arrives!

Trekkiegirl placed the top bid on the site of Vinylcuttingmachineguide and won it on her own merit. This also solves the problem of finding the chosen book for the review, as she collects the damn things for fun.

As of this moment, I am awaiting her choice. She is taking her time, making sure that the first Bad Romance Novel I am subjected to is a memorable one. Once she does, I’ll make the announcement on vpnicon.com and begin the review.

I highly doubt my sanity will remain intact.