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Harlequin Medical Romance: The Penhally Bay Series

Sunita — Sat, 29 Oct 2011 15:00:12 +0000

When Mills & Boon celebrated its centennial a few years ago, it commissioned a series to mark the occasion in its Medical Romance line. The series was to be set in the fictional coastal Cornwall town of Penhally Bay and all the novels would focus on characters who came to work or already lived there. Penhally Bay was too small for a full-sized hospital, but one of the focal, continuing characters of the series had established a surgery. The doctors and nurses who worked in the surgery (including Strangers Coming To Town and Bad Boys Returning Home), the patients who came for treatment, and auxiliary members of the town medical community all played main characters in the novels. The town’s location on the coast also provided opportunities for sea disasters and rescues, and the famous cliffs and mines of Cornwall offered even more drama.

The Brides of Penhally Bay series was initially intended to comprise 12 novels, releasing one per month through 2008. It was so popular that it was extended to 16 books, and then a second 8-book series, set in the nearest larger town’s hospital, St. Piran, was begun. Readers were already familiar with St. Piran because that was where serious Penhally cases were taken for hospital care. In addition, the St. Piran’s Hospital series finally wrapped up the long-running romance of Dr. Nick Tremayne, the head of the Penhally surgery, and his practice manager Kate Althorp. Their complicated relationship had been revealed and developed over the earlier books but never resolved.

As a faithful Medicals reader, I was thrilled to find the series, but as an American customer I was less thrilled to discover that they were unavailable for sale in the US. Luckily I am able to buy UK books, so I snapped up the omnibus volumes available from M&B (4 volumes of 4 books each) and burned through them. Finally, in 2011, the series came to Harlequin’s US bookstore. They are again releasing one per month, on Harlequin’s inexplicable schedule of print before ebook (i.e., a January print book is not released in ebook form until February).

I’m not going to review all 16 books, but with more than half released so far, I thought it would be worthwhile to provide quick summaries of the first eight individual novels and ask readers to chime in with their thoughts (and reactions if they’ve read them). A warning to non-regular Medicals readers: these books feature all the standard tropes. Big Mis, Secret Babies, reunion stories, friends to lovers, non-secret babies, other secrets, etc., plus of course lots of medical stuff. The pleasure, for me, lies in the way the authors deploy these tropes. Some work really well, others not so much. But if you’re a fan of continuity series like me, it’s worth reading them all to build the knowledge of the world.

Christmas Eve Baby by Caroline Anderson. This books introduces both the series as a whole and the first of Nick Tremayne’s children, his only daughter Lucy. Lucy and Ben Carter are doctors and former friends who were driven apart by a family tragedy for which Nick holds Ben responsible. Lucy and Ben meet again and fall into bed with predictable M&B results and have to deal with Lucy’s antagonistic father and make decisions about their futures. Anderson is a skilled writer; she does an excellent job of introducing a large cast of characters and setting the stage for future installments, and Lucy and Ben are very likable main characters.

The Italian’s New-Year Marriage Wish by Sarah Morgan. Amy Avanti comes back to seek a divorce from her Italian doctor-husband, Marco. Amy ran out on Marco two years ago and went to practice medicine in Africa. They are still very much in love, but Amy refuses to tell Marco the real reason she left, and he refuses to give her a divorce until she explains. It’s a Big Mis meets reunion story. Marco is a gorgeous, sexy, endearing hero of the type Morgan writes so well. Some readers will find Amy sympathetic and others will want to shake her; I fell somewhere in between. The setting is further developed and we learn more about Kate and Nick, but Morgan’s attention to context doesn’t lessen her focus on the main relationship.

The Doctor’s Bride by Sunrise by Josie Metcalfe. Adam Donnelly comes back to Penhally to rekindle his interrupted relationship with his childhood friend, paramedic Maggie Pascoe. He has some explaining to do, but before they can do much but say hello, they’re both required at a rescue operation that involves Kate Althorp’s young son Jem. Metcalfe offers an unusual setting and time-frame: most of the book takes places in the course of the rescue and Adam and Maggie only communicate by 2-way radio for a large section of the book. Nevertheless, she manages to create a sweet story of reunion and romance amidst a dangerous rescue operation, and it’s not as incongruous as it sounds. It doesn’t entirely work, but it’s fun to watch it unfold.

The Surgeon’s Fatherhood Surprise by Jennifer Taylor. Playboy surgeon Jack Tremayne comes back to Penhally Bay when he gains custody of his 3-year-old son, about whose existence he only learns when the mother dies and leaves him as the custodial parent. Neighbor Alison Myers, practice nurse at the Penhally surgery, friend of his sister Lucy, and single mother of her own 3-year-old, is an invaluable help as he adjusts to instant fatherhood. This is a fairly predictable story of playboy turns family man, heavy on the medical and Tremayne family subplots, but the hero and heroine are likeable and the matching 3-year-olds are not overly annoying.

The Doctor’s Royal Love-Child by Kate Hardy. This story pairs one of the handsome foreign surgery doctors we’ve come to know and like, Dragan Lovak, with Melinda Fortesque, the town vet who turns out to be a Royal Princess. Her family is pressuring her to give up her profession and come back to assume royal duties. While I’m usually not a fan of princess stories, this one worked for me. Dragan is a wonderful, winning hero, and Melinda is down-to-earth and surprisingly believable as someone who would rather be a wife and vet in a Cornish village. Pregnancy storyline but not a secret baby.

Nurse Bride, Bayside Wedding by Gill Sanderson. This story introduces the third Tremayne sibling, Ed, who has returned to Penhally after a difficult tour of duty as an army doctor. He meets ship’s nurse Maddie Granger when her cruise ship is moored in Penhally Bay with an outbreak of Novovirus that puts many elderly passengers at risk. Like the other Tremayne-centered stories, this one has more of a focus on Nick and Kate, as well as on Nick’s relationship with Ed. Ed and Maddie both come with baggage from past relationships which affects their current lives, in Maggie’s case quite directly. The book is competently written but didn’t really do that much for me, in part because I found the shipboard and virus storyline less interesting than those involving village and countryside residents. The patients are mostly senior citizens and the main characters are fairly quiet personalities.

Single Dad Seeks A Wife by Melanie Milburne. This novel moves away from the surgery staff and Tremayne family and features a relationship between visiting Australian forensic pathologist Eloise Hayden and Chief Inspector Lachlan D’Ancey. Eloise has come to investigate the drowning death of a renowned young Australian surfer, whom Lachlan’s teenaged daughter had befriended. The conflict between them is well-motivated and their growing attraction nicely handled, and the introduction of a mystery subplot makes a nice change of pace. Lachlan is a sympathetic and winning hero and his relationship with his daughter is one of the novel’s strengths. Nick and Kate are important characters and a Big Secret of their past is revealed.

Virgin Midwife, Playboy Doctor by Margaret McDonagh. The heroine is definitely a virgin, and the doctor is something of a playboy, as advertised, but in McDonagh’s skilled hands this turns into anything but a fill-in-the-trope story. McDonagh is fast becoming one of my most reliable Medicals authors and this novel shows why. Chloe MacKinnon is the midwife at Penhally surgery and while she is attracted to fill-in doctor Oliver Fawkner, the gulf between their respective backgrounds and experience makes her shy away from getting to know him outside work. Oliver is intrigued by Chloe but she’s clearly not the type for a quick fling, and she’s shy but no doormat. For his part, Oliver is a playboy but he’s not a jerk, and his efforts to woo Chloe and win her trust are sweet to read. You can see why these opposite personalities are attracted to each other.

Recapping these eight novels, one thing that stands out to me is that many of the main and supporting characters are not that young. Several heroes are in their late thirties or early forties, and they are often paired up with heroines in their thirties. Nick Tremayne is well into middle age, and Kate Althorp is no youngster herself. There are subplots with teenagers, and while there are lots of pregnancies and marriages, they don’t seem as overwhelming to me as they might in a group of stand-alone novels because they fit into the warp and weft of village life. Every book in the Penhally Bay series isn’t a keeper, but overall the authors have done an excellent job of creating a shared world that I’ve enjoyed returning to over and over.

How about you? Do any of these stories pique your interest? Have you read them and do you have recommendations? And if anyone wants more information on any particular title, let me know in the comments.

Series at Harlequin

Romances and Deaf Characters

Jaili — Thu, 22 Sep 2011 09:00:50 +0000

I’m a volunteer for a literature project that aims to list every novel with a specific theme or trope in a reference database, and I’m involved with two databases: ‘Deaf Characters in English-Language Literature’ and ‘Non-Caucasian Characters in British Literature’.

When I joined the ‘Deaf Characters in Literature’ (DCIL) project years ago, there were only three listed in the Romantic Fiction section. American author Harper Lee’s iconic novel To Kill a Mockingbird (the Tutti and Frutti sisters), Italian author Dacia Maraini’s 18^th-century historical novel The Silent Duchess, and British author Catherine Cookson’s it’s-all-grim-up-north family saga novel, The Mallen Girl. That was roughly seven years ago. Today, the Romantic Fiction section of the DCIL database has over 200 titles published last eighty-odd years. Yay! There are still more to log, though.

Anyroad, this database reveals some interesting patterns and tropes among romance novels featuring deaf characters. Here goes my casual observations:

The majority of deaf characters are found in Category Romance, particularly Harlequin Superromance, Silhouette Intimate Moments, and Loveswept.

These characters are more likely to be female, usually as heroine or female relative. When the heroine is deaf, the hero is more likely to be a doctor (Elizabeth August’s Silhouette Romance, Lucky Penny) or father of a deaf child (Sandra Canfield’s Harlequin Superromance, Star Song). However, if a deaf character is 10 or under, then the character is likely to be male; usually Hero’s son or orphaned nephew (Bobby Hutchinson’s Sheltering Bridges and Rachel Ryan’s Eloquent Silence). In those cases, the heroine is more likely to be a speech therapist, deaf school teacher or – for a historical romance – a governess or companion (Barbara Hazard’s Midnight Magic).

While Category Romance has its share of deaf stereotypes and tropes, there is enough variety that it could use to save its face. Such as Susan Drake’s SIM Hear No Evil with deaf heroine as a muralist and hero as a Greek hotel owner, and Suzanne Ellison’s Harlequin Superromance, Words Unspoken, with deaf hero Gunnar as a marine biologist and heroine Meredith as his ASL interpreter.

Candace Irvin makes it more interesting with her action-packed SIM The Impossible Alliance by making her heroine ARIES agent Alexis Warner deaf. Likewise with Mary Kay McComas’s popular Loveswept romance, To Give a Heart Wings, for making her deaf heroine a photographer and hero a racing driver. Also, Julie Miller’s Silhouette Intrigue Police Business features a deaf, rich heiress as a murder witness whom hero police detective thrives to protect.

There’s Kevin’s Story by Sally Goldenbaum and Adrienne Staff (Loveswept, 1986, no. 165). Not only our hero Kevin is deafened and a sign language user, he runs a successful biscuit company; surprisingly rare for a deaf character in fiction. I say surprising because there were quite a few deaf business owners and entrepreneurs in real life last few centuries, but it rarely happened in fiction. I find this odd. Deaf people in real life – especially during 20^th century as a result of the International Milan Congress of 1880 – couldn’t get jobs, so they set up businesses of their own. Such as Irish born-deaf immigrant Michael O’Neal who founded a business that employed 100+ window cleaners across New York City between 1870s and 1890s. Kevin originally appeared in What’s a Nice Girl…? (Loveswept, 1985, no. 97) as a best friend of uptight hero Dr. Logan Reed who was falling for Susan, a perky Jewish woman. Apparently, Kevin was such a hit with readers that Goldenbaum and Staff decided to pen Kevin’s story, which they ultimately used as the title. FWIW, I thought Kevin’s Story was rather sweet and charming.

I don’t read Inspirational romances, but there is a listing of Arlene James’s The Heart’s Voice (Love Inspired, 2004) that features hero Daniel Holden who lost his hearing to an explosion during a military mission. I think there are more, but The Heart’s Voice is the one that was frequently recommended by Inspirational romance readers. According to some, deafness in Inspirational romance is generally used as part of God’s teaching as well as an emotional conflict between hero and heroine. Interestingly, the majority of deaf characters are male, usually as hero or a relative.

For Traditional Regency Romance genre, almost all deaf characters are female and widowed. Deaf heroes are as common as hen’s teeth. Also in this sub-genre, the two most popular causes of deafness are a childhood fever (typhoid fever, meningitis or scarlet fever) and domestic violence. I found the latter rather interesting because a beating usually leaves a person deaf in one ear, not in both ears. As one audiologist pointed out, if the beating was severe enough to render a person deaf in both ears, the person would be already dead. Heh!

For Historical romance genre, it’s fifty-fifty, but deaf heroes are more likely to be found in Medieval-era historical romances while it’s the 19^th century setting for deaf heroines. However, all deaf characters in American historical romance genre found so far are female (Catherine Anderson’s Annie’s Song). In fact, quite a few romance readers have recommended Mary Balogh’s Georgian-era historical romance, Silent Melody, and Catherine Anderson’s American historical romance, Annie’s Song.

For what it’s worth, I generally find Catherine Anderson’s books a tad too manipulative for my taste, which is the case with Annie’s Song. However when she stated in an interview that she did extensive historical research for this novel, I believed her because I didn’t come across any major clangers and common misconceptions, usually found in other romantic novels featuring deaf characters, in Annie’s Song. Kudos to Anderson. I’m sorry that I can’t say the same for Balogh’s Silent Melody, though, but it found a place in many Top 100 Romance Novels lists, so you might enjoy her portrayal of deaf heroine Lady Emily.

It’s interesting to note that romance authors tend to associate deafness with music or sound in their stories. Such as pairing a musician character with a deaf character, or use sounds to highlight a deaf character’s solitude. Seeing that it’s appeared in at least 80% of romantic fiction featuring deaf characters, it suggests that the majority of romance authors thought music and sound mattered more to their deaf characters.

A pity really, because the majority of real-life deaf people were historically more interested in art, literature, crafts, sports or other fields than sound-related fields, such as music. Notable people: our failed Scottish painter Walter Geikie who’s still regarded as a hero in the Scottish community for his biting social commentary and black-line illustrations of Scotland’s class system; 18^th century French publisher and author Pierre Desloges who wrote and published several political books during the French Revolution; Irish 19^th century watercolourist Sampson Towgood Roch who set a trend with his 1820s portraits of ordinary lives; 15th century Spanish nun and feminist writer Teresa de Cartagena and French sculptor Hippolyte Montillie who created a bronze statue L’Honneur dominant la Discords before moving to America in 1901. I must give a little shout-out to English carpenter Robert ‘Mouseman of Kilburn’ Thompson, who included his signature – a little mouse – on every furniture item he created. I find this adorable. Other favourites: American major league baseball player William “Dummy” Hoy and human anatomy illustrator Katherine Jane Gilmore in Victorian London. I nod towards MacCoinnich Bodhar (Deaf Mackenzie), AKA Francis Humberstone Mackenzie the 1st Baron Seaforth (1754-1815), who was a reformist in favour of anti-slavery, parliamentarian, and all-round pompous ass. But I digress.

Across the sub-genres of Romance, almost all deaf characters could lip-read with ease and have no problem communicating with a wide range of people and often all day (lip-reading is as demanding as playing a fast-paced video game). It’s well known that lip-reading in a candle-lit or dim room is near impossible and yet, many authors had their characters lip-reading with ease in that condition. Authors occasionally forgot that their characters were deaf as many had those characters conversing in the dark, which amused me so much.

There is also a solid belief among authors (and readers) that deafness goes hand in hand with mutism, which I found frustrating because it’s the biggest misconception that Deaf, deafened and hard of hearing people are still battling against today. Mutism is a separate disability, which has nothing to do with deafness. The old terms ‘deaf-mute’ and ‘deaf and dumb’ refer to deaf people who chose to communicate in finger-spelling or sign language, not speech. The frequency use of these terms in 19^th-century news and Victorian fiction had unfortunately created and fostered an incorrect belief that it meant deaf people literally couldn’t speak. It’s a shame that this belief is still very much alive in today’s fiction and, of course, the media.

There’s also a belief that there is no degree of deafness as almost all authors have made their deaf characters completely deaf*. Complete deafness in real life is as common as violet eyes, e.g. it’s a rarity. However, there are some authors who chose to go against that. As far as I can see, Catherine Anderson, author of Annie’s Song, is the only one who showed that her deaf heroine could hear some sounds, but couldn’t identify them anyway. This is very common among deaf people in real life, the past and the present.

*There are some authors who opted for the cochlear implant route, such as Neesa Hart’s contemporary romance, A Kiss to Dream On. All right, it’s getting a bit awkward now. Generally, a cochlear implant cannot restore hearing as it’s just a permanent form of a hearing aid, but many romance authors chose to believe it can restore full hearing and portrayed it as such, accordingly. However, it’s a sensitive – and often, controversial – topic for many, particularly Deaf people and parents of deaf children, so I won’t discuss those books here because I don’t want to be dragged into a debate about the ethics of cochlear implants. Anyroad, it doesn’t change the fact that complete deafness is a rarity.

Speaking of rarity, we still haven’t found a SF romance, futuristic romance or – apart from Vivian Arend’s Wolf Signs (Samhain, 2009) with deafened heroine as a werewolf – paranormal romance that features deaf characters. Does anyone know any?

There are deaf characters in LGBT fiction, but the cataloguing is still rather chaotic because a few suggested titles with those they characterised as deaf when in fact they aren’t. Their disability is mutism which, as I said earlier, has absolutely nothing to do with deafness. In gay fiction, there are 12 titles listed and for the m/m genre, about eight. I read only two, though, which are St. Nacho’s – Z A Maxfield (Loose ID, 2009, contemporary m/m) and Learning to Dharn – Ann Somervile (2011, alternate historical reality m/m). I suspect there are more, so I welcome suggestions and recommendations.

Surprisingly, there is no romantic novel that features a deaf lesbian, deaf asexual person or any other LGBTIQ person. Believe me, we’ve trawled through the Pink Library on our knees with a fine comb. All we could find is a couple of casual references, found in an avid reader’s diary, to an unidentified short story. Rather strange, don’t you think? But if you know there is one out there, please do let us know.

I think I have rambled long enough. Here are some books that may interest you:

The Raging Quiet – Sherryl Jordan (Simon Pulse, 2004, YA historical fiction)

Set somewhere in medieval-like England, farmer’s daughter Marnie marries a lord’s son to ensure her mother could continue living at their farm after her father dies. Her husband, who’s older than Marnie by twenty years, takes her to a coastal village to live at his beloved cottage. As she struggles to settle in her new life, she’s treated as an outcast by suspicious villagers. She makes a daily escape to the countryside where she one day meets Raven, a seemingly wild-natured handsome boy her age.

Marnie eventually discovers he’s deaf, not a devil-cursed lunatic that the village thinks he is. This prompts her to learn hand gestures to communicate with him, which helps to deepen their friendship and ease their loneliness. It’s Happy Days for them, until her husband’s killed in an accident. This prompts the village to believe that Marnie had used witchcraft to kill her husband, to make room for Raven in her life. Marnie pretty much goes “Are you really that stupid, villagers?” while Raven nods in support. That’s when everything goes to the dogs for all involved.

Although it’s a YA novel, it’s one of the most compelling I read. To be honest, I can’t even articulate because basically, it has to be read to believe. I felt Sherryl Jordan did a decent job with her portrayal of a deaf character. And frankly, by making dates and places as vague as possible, Jordan got away with certain details she wouldn’t otherwise have with a straightforward historical novel.

Mouth to Mouth – Erin McCarthy (Brava, 2005, contemporary romance).

See Jane’s review of the 2009 reissued edition here to find out why it won a B grade off her. http://dearauthor.com/book-reviews/review-mouth-to-mouth-by-erin-mccarthy/.

Ashblane’s Lady – Sophia James (Harlequin Historical Romance).

In spite of my dislike for this (not only because it’s set in Scotland, I wasn’t keen on James’s portrayal of a deaf character), author Jane Beckenham gave Ashblane’s Lady a grade A, as seen in her DA review here. http://dearauthor.com/book-reviews/guest-review-ashblanes-lady-by-sophia-james/

The Tailor’s Daughter – Janice Graham (St. Martin’s Press, 2006, Victorian historical novel).

Gifted seamstress and trader’s daughter Veda Grenfell falls in love with Harry Breadalbane, a viscount and heir to Earldom, but she believes she could not marry him because of a huge class gap between them. And yet,

I know zero about Victorian fashion and all that sort, but this story – told through Veda’s eyes – had my attention from its opening line – “We all believed I had passed through the worst”, which goes on to describe how typhoid fever almost took her life but left her deafened instead – to the end. Not a typical historical romance either. I agree with one GoodReads reviewer who describes this novel as “schizophrenic” for not being able to make its mind up whether it’s a historical romance, historical fiction or historical mystery. This leaves an impression that it’s a mildly messy hybrid of all three. In spite of this and the occasionally modern voice, I enjoyed it all the same. Must be one of those rare days when I’m not so nitpicky. I’d tear it into pieces if I dared to re-read, I bet. Silly, really.

Baby, I’m Yours – Susan Andersen (Avon, 1998, contemporary road romance)

Bail enforcer Sam McKade mistakes deaf school teacher Catherine MacPherson for her twin sister Kaylee, who’s wanted for grand auto theft, and takes her on road from Seattle to somewhere in Miami. It’s been a while since I read it, but I remember enjoying it quite a bit.

Technically, it’s not a ‘deaf’ book but Catherine is a CODA (child of Deaf adult) and a deaf school teacher. There is a brief scene in which she communicates with a deaf stranger in sign language, which was a pleasant surprise. At least Catherine is a lot nicer than Judith Lee, also a deaf school teacher, from Richard Marsh’s Edwardian-era detective novel, The Adventures of Judith Lee (1916). Well okay, Judith Lee is cooler for knowing Jujitsu, which she used on baddies without qualms.

I haven’t read those books listed below, but they were recommended by romance readers over last few years:

Sweet Talk – Susan Mallery (HQN, first book in the Keyes Sisters trilogy).

It won a grade B from Jane who reviewed it here. http://dearauthor.com/book-reviews/overall-b-reviews/review-sweet-talk-by-susan-mallery/

Heart Sounds – Michele Johns (Harper Monogram, 1993, American historical romance).

A friend swore on her family’s fiercely protected recipe book that this American historical romance features the best portrayal of a deaf character she’d come across.

Beyond Paradise – Elizabeth Doyle (Zebra, 2004, pirate historical romance).

Somewhere in the Caribbean during the 1660s, the legendary but imprisoned pirate hero Jacques has somehow turned posh girl Sylvie Davant into his hostage during a bid for freedom from his dank prison.

The Gate to Eden – Cathy McDavid (Dorcester, 2006, American western historical romance)

Widowed Maddie Campbell solicits donations from the rich (translation: steals from the rich) on the behalf of a struggling coal-mining community and her young deaf daughter. It gets dicey when a mysterious lawman turns up in their town to investigate robberies.

A Hearing Heart – Bonnie Dee (Liquid Silver Books, 2009, American western historical romance)

It does enough to win a B grade from Jayne, as seen in this review here http://dearauthor.com/book-reviews/review-a-hearing-heart-by-bonnie-dee/

On my current deaf/romance reading list, I have Tessa Dare’s Regency-era romance Three Nights With a Scoundrel (2010) that tells a tale of Julian Bellamy craps himself when he realises he has feelings for Lily, his dead best friend’s deaf sister. I also have Antony John’s acclaimed YA novel, Five Flavours of Dumb (2010), featuring a deaf school student who somehow become the manager of a rock band called Dumb.

Do you have favourites you would like to share? Quite a few recommended Suzanne Brockmann’s military adventure romance, Into the Fire, and Tessa Dare’s Regency romance, Three Nights With a Scoundrel, actually. Did you enjoy those? How about Kristen Hannah’s rather unconventional handling of her heroine’s deafness in her time-travel romance, Once in Every Life? How do you feel about the general portrayal of deafness in fiction? Or other disabilities if you like.

Cheers for now.

All m/m fiction is not created equal

Sunita — Tue, 24 May 2011 09:00:29 +0000

A while back I was tweeting about m/m novels with a couple of m/m writers. I mentioned that my least favorite explanations for why women read m/m romance was “If one man is good, two men are even better!” Both of the writers agreed, and we moved on to other topics. I went back to surfing romance blogs and what did I find? A post answering the question, “Why do straight women read gay male erotica?” And what was the answer? Yes, you guessed it: Two men are twice as hot as one. Argh!

I should mention here that it is not only mainstream romance bloggers who give this reason. Writers of m/m have also been known to put it at the top of their list of reasons for writing it. And those of us who review m/m here at DA are not shy about expressing our satisfaction with books that offer explicit depictions of gay male sex. So why does the constant refrain of 2XY > 1XY HotHotHot!!! get to me so much?

For one thing, there is a tendency to lump all m/m fiction into the category of erotica (the post in question conflated romance and erotic m/m novels). Moreover, many readers don’t appear to distinguish between well-written, thoughtful erotic fiction and stories that are aptly called “stroke novels.” The latter serve pretty much the function their descriptor suggests; as long as they are sexually arousing, the quality of the prose and the characterizations of the protagonists are almost beside the point.

Booksellers like Fictionwise still categorize most gay and lesbian romance titles as erotica. And remember when Amazon pulled its m/m titles on the grounds that they were porn? This is unfair both to writers whose work is being mischaracterized and to readers who are looking for erotic novels and wind up with romance (or vice versa). Now maybe, for some readers, reading a short, less than explicit passage in which male characters have sex is emotionally equivalent to an extremely explicit scene of heterosexual sex. In that case, all m/m romance is erotica, regardless of heat and quality levels. But I think for many veteran readers, the distinctions between warm, hot, and extremely hot sex in m/m are pretty similar to those in m/f, and so calling all m/m erotica collapses one of the key distinctions for romance readers: the centrality of a romantic (as opposed to sexual) relationship and the guarantee of an HEA/HFN ending.

Second, this conflation of distinct types of m/m fiction feeds into existing stereotypes of all romance, i.e., that the distinctions we make between erotic romance, erotica, and porn are beside the point because romance novels are just stroke novels, porn for women with no redeeming literary value. Just as we distinguish PwP novels from erotica and romance in m/f, we should maintain that distinction in m/m writing.

Third, I worry that by privileging the importance of sexual titillation over the other types of rewards that we receive from reading m/m, we run the risk of focusing on gay men and their sexual relationships to the exclusion of other characteristics. That focus has the potential to reinforce the stereotype that gay men are all about whom they sleep with. When we fail to distinguish between romance, erotica, and stroke fiction, we’re extending that perspective to the whole genre. Distinguishing among them doesn’t mean that we categorize by the amount and type of sex in the book, but by the role that sex plays for the narrative and the characters. When the sexual dimensions of a relationship (or an individual’s journey) move the story and characterization forward, they are integral to the story.

However much romance readers understand that they are reading fiction, they take away and store information that they acquire in novels. You only have to look at historical romance to see how the process works. Scottish romance teaches people about Highlanders and kilt-wearing in ways that are divorced from actual people and practices. Novels about colonial India leave readers with the impression that the most important inhabitants were Anglo-Indians and the most important event was the Mutiny of 1857. These fictional exaggerations and falsehoods are mostly harmless and inconsequential for Scots and Indians then and now. But it’s a bit different when we’re talking about contemporary issues and people. For minority groups in particular, the majority’s understanding is heavily influenced by stereotypes, and the less concrete knowledge one has, the more stereotypes are likely to contribute. The best examples of m/m romantic and erotic fiction, whether explicit or relatively tame sexually, undermine stereotypes and depict the complexity of human relationships just as much as the best examples of m/f romantic and erotic fiction do. Stroke novels are about something else entirely. They’re useful and we love them, but they’re not part of the same genre.

Hours after I first drafted this post, Rick Welts, the President & CEO of the Phoenix Suns of the NBA, came out of the closet in a front-page story in the New York Times. When I read the story, I realized that he had had two long-term, committed relationships in his adult life. One was cut short by his partner’s death from AIDS-related complications in 1994, after 17 years together. The other, which lasted 14 years, ended because the demands of the closet made the relationship too difficult to sustain. If I have the arithmetic right, Rick Welts spent the majority of the last 35 years in two non-overlapping committed relationships. I’m guessing he would make a fairly boring main character in an m/m stroke novel (although who knows, he could have had a rich and varied sex life). But I’m positive he’d make a helluva romance hero. I really hope he gets his HEA.

Reading Outside Your Comfort Zone

Sunita — Tue, 17 May 2011 09:00:29 +0000

With the RT awards handed out and the RITA awards coming up, I’m struck by the omission of romances that don’t hew to the one man-one woman formula. Two years ago, I wouldn’t have noticed, let alone felt annoyed. While I’ve read erotic and BDSM novels for at least a couple of decades, I didn’t read gay romance at all. Then ebook publishing took off, I started reading Joan/SarahF’s reviews here at Dear Author, I noticed discussions about them more and more across blogland, and I thought maybe I was missing something good. My awareness of m/m coincided with my increasing difficulty in finding enough books and authors in my usual genre (historical romance) to keep me occupied, so I decided to try one and see what I thought. That was dozens of books ago, and it’s the best impulse decision I’ve had in a while. Sure, there’s bad writing in m/m, as there is in every other romance subgenre. But there are also many excellent authors and excellent books, and they took me right out of my reading doldrums.

When we have conversations about expanding our reading horizons, the message can sometimes be that readers should be reading other genres, as if our reading tastes are supposed to reflect and communicate our ideological positions and our hopes for the world. I want to suggest a different rationale for pushing the boundaries of one’s reading, a rationale that is completely selfish: the longer you read, the more likely you will be to run out of books in genres you’re used to, so reading outside your comfort zone will help you find more books and authors that you enjoy. Sure, thousands of romance books are published every year. But unless you’re Harriet Klausner, you don’t want to read them all. Most of us are considerably more selective than Ms. Klausner, whether we read 5 or 50 or 100 books a month. And eventually, either you will be down to a few autobuys in your genres, or you will find that your previously reliable genre has morphed into something else (just take a look at the changes in the books that have won the RWA award for Best Regency over the years).

When you get to that point, if you’re like me, you start thinking about ways to expand your reading list. As a result, I am now reading some lines which I ignored a few years ago.

(1) Gay (m/m) romance. I started by reading books that Joan/SarahF and others had reviewed here at DA, and which seemed in line with my plot/characterization preferences. Free ebooks from Samhain, Amazon and the like helped me find new-to-me books and authors without making a financial commitment. After that, I started looking for review sites that focused on m/m and found comprehensive lists of recommended books. Once I had read a few good books and a few duds, I started figuring out what I enjoyed reading. It turns out that I don’t care whether there’s a lot or a little sex, as long as the sex is integral to the storyline and/or characterization (the same preferences I have in m/f romance). I find that I like stories which remind me that there are differences in the way men approach romance and relationships, so I avoid books where the men talk about their feelings a lot or generally sound like romance heroines. And in addition to discovering a lot of very good contemporary romance stories within the m/m genre, gay romance features one of my favorite combinations: mystery-meets-romance. I’ve read cozyish mysteries, police procedurals, gritty serial killer mysteries, historical mysteries, you name it.

(2) Harlequin’s Kimani imprint. Like many non-African-American romance readers, I hadn’t read many AA books, even though I read AA lit fic, mysteries, and mainstream fiction. No good reason motivated this behavior, they were just not in my default comfort zone. Discussions online in the early 2000s made me aware of how exclusionary I was being, and how indefensible it was (in the sense that I had no reason for it, good or bad, except laziness), and I also realized I was probably missing out on some very good novels. So I read a couple of contemporaries by Monica Jackson and then a historical by Beverly Jenkins and I liked all three, but I didn’t love them, and it takes work to find AA romance books in a lot of bookstores, so I lapsed again. Then came the Rise Of the Ebook and Harlequin’s one-stop-shopping website. I picked up a couple of Kimanis that looked interesting and found that while they weren’t perfect, they had aspects I liked and which were missing from a lot of mainstream romances. For one, there were a lot of normal heroes and heroines, which was a nice break from Dukes and Billionaires. Second, the hero and heroine usually had families and friends who provided a support system for the central couple. Given how many novels isolate either or both, and then hit the reader over the head with The Relationship Is What They Need Above All message, the presence of a realistic community made a refreshing change. I’m still figuring out which Kimani storylines, characters, and authors work best for me, but I’m enjoying the journey.

(3) Harlequin Presents (and HP Extra). Yes, I know this is the biggest selling romance line on the planet. That doesn’t mean I used to read it. When I started reading categories many years ago, I gravitated to Nice Stories About Nice Girls. I avoided alphahole heroes. My prejudices against HP were implicitly upheld in the early 2000s by the lack of reviews at the online sites I visited most, but then new sites like DA began to review them regularly and Harlequin became a big online presence. I starting reading the Medical line again and discovered that authors there also wrote for the Presents and M&B Modern Heat lines, and I suddenly had more HPs I wanted to read than time to read them. Somewhat surprising to me, I also discovered that my tastes had changed over the last couple of decades. As I’ve discussed elsewhere, I have become more interested in how authors worked within and pushed the boundaries of the category format, and authors whom I’d avoided in the past became must-reads. I’ve developed a new appreciation of old-skool HPs and the authors who wrote them, and I have a a number of current HP authors on my autobuy list now. There’s quite a range within the HP imprint (especially when you add in the Extra books), and while there may not be something for everyone, it’s not the case that if you’ve read one Sheikh or Billionaire book, you’ve read them all.

In each of these cases, reading a book in a new subgenre required me to take a leap of faith and to think about the implicit and explicit prejudices about subgenres that were shaping my choices. I don’t think that not reading m/m means you’re anti-gay any more than not reading YA means you’re anti-teenager. If a subgenre really isn’t for you and you know it, then that’s one thing. But if you’re not reading it because you read one or two bad books or because years ago you didn’t like it, you might want to try again. It’s much easier to find new books today than it used to be. In addition to review sites, there are discussion boards like those at Amazon and Goodreads, and the contributors there are knowledgeable and happy to help you find something you’ll like. I found perusing the old threads really helpful as well. Many authors have excerpts at their websites, which will give you a sense of their writing styles. Amazon and Smashwords encourage you to download samples. You have nothing to lose but a little time, which you’re not spending reading anyway. And when you find an author, or better yet a whole group of authors, you get to experience that fabulous sense of discovery that comes when you realize you’ve found something new, you love it, and you’ll be able to read it for the foreseeable future.

Publishing Romance: The More Things Change …

Sunita — Tue, 08 Mar 2011 10:00:19 +0000

Did Kathleen Woodiwiss’ The Flame and The Flower really give birth to the romance genre? Until last week, I’d always assumed the answer was a resounding No. But there seem to be quite a few sources that think it did. Wikipedia asserts that the publication of TFATF marked “the birth of the modern romance novel.” In Beyond Heaving Bosoms, Sarah Wendell and Candy Tan call it “the clearest predecessor we can find for the modern romance novel.” But what do we mean by “modern”? To a great extent we mean “modern European historical romance.” Avon editor Carrie Feron acclaimed Kathleen Woodiwiss as “the founding mother of the historical romance genre.” This tends to come as a shock to readers of Georgette Heyer, or even Barbara Cartland. And never mind Catherine Cookson, the undisputed Queen of the Clogs & Shawls subgenre of romance (never mind because even in the time of the international internet, apparently we’re all Americans). Nevertheless, Woodiwiss definitely jumpstarted something romance-related. And I would argue that what TFATF jumpstarted is even more interesting than giving birth to romance.

Janice Radway’s Reading the Romance gets pilloried quite a bit in the online romance community. But whatever you think of the literary analysis contained therein, the first chapter, on the impact of Woodiwiss and the bodice-ripper sub-genre she introduced, is brilliant in demonstrating the importance of what she terms a “new category” of romance fiction within larger publishing trends. Radway discusses the rise of the paperback as a new profit center for traditional publishers, the acquisition and consolidation of boutique publishers by media conglomerates (plus Ã§a change, etc. etc.), and the rise of the paperback bestseller. Publishing companies had discovered the buying power of women readers years before feminist movement took off in the mid- to late-1960s. Looking to replace the decreasing popularity of its mystery category line, Ace Books began a gothic romance imprint in 1960 with a novel by Phyllis Whitney. Other publishers soon followed, including Doubleday through its Fawcett Crest imprint, and Radway observes that they were “almost immediately successful in establishing gothic romance as a particular category and in creating a growing demand for new titles.” By 1971, when the demand for gothic romances was at its peak (first runs were as high as 800,000 copies), Dell was issuing four to five titles a month. Does this sound familiar?

So what happened to gothics? No one seems to have a good answer. Maybe the ingenue-meets-dodgy-hero-in-gloomy-house plot wore out its welcome. Certainly one possibility was the public’s growing appetite for sexually more explicit fiction, which gothic romances did not satisfy. Publishers had realized, both from the popularity of gothic romances and from their own surveys, that women were more than half the book-buying market, and we were increasingly willing and eager to read books with more and more graphic sex. In addition, the financial demands of printing technology in a profit-driven enterprise required a steady stream of books which could be counted on to sell. Gothic romance sales peaked in 1971, but the downturns in successive years made it clear they couldn’t be counted on to keep the paperback ship afloat.

Enter the slush pile. Nancy Coffey at Avon picked TFATF off the heap, took it home to read and couldn’t put it down. So Avon bought it, decided to publish it as a paperback original, and put their marketing might behind it. TFATF didn’t really break new ground, but it put together a winning combination of proven ingredients. It combined the historical sweep of bestselling sagas with a focus on the hero and heroine’s relationship which had hitherto been the domaine of category romances from Harlequin/Mills & Boon. And, of course, it added sex. In his insightful and compulsively readable survey of 1970s bestsellers and popular book publishing, John Sutherland characterizes the bodice-ripper genre as containing “a great deal of accurate sexual and inaccurate historical detail.” And, of course, there is the purple prose, which really was a new departure (perhaps to accompany the purple passion?).

The rest, of course, is history. The European Historical genre that was spawned by the spectacular success of TFATF obliterated the gothic romance and still dominates public perception of the genre today. Is that a bad thing?

Well, obviously the enduring public equivalence of romance=bodice-ripper simplifies and distorts an understanding of the depth and richness of the genre. But even within the community, when we use single books and historical moments to illustrate larger points about romance, we divert attention from the other forces in play at the same time. When we focus on the birth of the modern romance novel in the 1970s, the other critical developments we overlook include:

(1) The publishing innovations of Harlequin Books. Harlequin had certainly figured out the importance of women as readers by the 1950s and 1960s, and they expanded their distribution in the United States in the early 1970s. They commanded a majority of the sales in the romance genre, but because they released books by several authors each month (and didn’t engage in preferential promotion of their authors), the books didn’t get the attention of single titles.

(2) The focus on a single book overlooks the larger market context in which the book was launched and received. So we don’t carry the larger lessons forward. Yes, TFATF was an important benchmark. But it was a benchmark for publishing as much as for the genre.

(3) We neglect the rich diversity of the genre. Is TFATF a good place to start in the genre as a reader? Not if you want an idea of what today looks like. But also not if you want to look at continuity within romance. Reading a 1970s bodice ripper doesn’t tell you much about European historicals today, however much fun a blast from the past can be. Reading Georgette Heyer gives you a better sense of the debt today’s Regencies owe to their predecessors, especially the historically rich ones. Similarly, the less gothic Mary Stewart novels shed light on the path the Romantic Suspense sub-genre took. And of course, any number of past category authors went on to write single-title contemporary bestsellers.

One final lesson we should be sure to learn from the 1970s experience: it was a time of technological and economic upheaval. Then it was industry consolidation and the emergence of the paperback as bestseller. Today it’s industry consolidation and the rise of the ebook as major seller (I’m betting an ebook bestseller is not that far away). And yet, Harlequin once again is at the forefront of innovation; it the first major print publisher to take advantage of the ebook revolution with its Carina imprint. Apparently Avon is about to take the plunge. But will the NY publishers really exploit the opportunities of the technology? Will they see the expanding international reading public as comparable to the expansion of the reading public in the 1970s? And will they just produce more of the same, the way many publishers in the 1970s figured out how to turn hardbacks into sustained paperback profits, or will they put their marketing muscle behind a whole new genre, the way Avon did with bodice rippers? If they do, I think the smart money would be on m/m or erotic romance as sub-genres that are poised for the mainstream. But that’s a whole ‘nother post.

Thoughts on Jeannie Lin’s Butterfly Swords

Jane — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 10:00:17 +0000

I visited Korea in the early 2000s. One day we were in the district of the Ewha’s Women’s University. Near the university is a shopping area situated on a long downward slope. My husband Ned and I were at the top of the hill and all you could see was a sea of shiny black hair. My breath caught in my throat. Here, everyone looked like me. We all had black hair and the olive skin tones.

Growing up in the midwest, amongst a sea of Norse and German descendants, I looked like the one orange amongst a bushel of apples. To minimize my differences, I tried to attire myself with the accoutrements of the apples, putting on the red skin over my orange peel but my deceit lasted only until I saw my reflection.

Ned turned to me, “Don’t take off your hat. I’ll never find you.” But I paid no heed. I walked a little ahead of Ned and took off my hat and lost myself in the sea of people who all looked just like me. All of my life I was keenly aware of my otherness and here, for just a moment, there was this immediate sense of belonging.

But for all my similarities, I was still Other here. I was big boned compared to the dainty Asian girls that swirled around me, pale and delicate like the wings of a translucent butterfly. “So tall,” clucked the mother of my host family as I towered awkwardly over her under five foot frame. I could have snapped most of those girls in two. And for all my physical similarities – the eye color and shape, the hair, the skin, I was Other.

When I read a book about the Far East, its culture is just as foreign to me as the culture of the British and Regency England or the high society of the New York Five Hundred. To some extent, I’ve always been Other, for as long as I have read books but it has never bothered me when reading because once lost in the book, my Otherness disappears. For a moment, for the span of the novel, I am part of the author’s world, traveling along with her as she carries me to ancient times or fantasy lands or even just across the countryside.

I admit that when I see a book with a cover like Jeannie Lin’s Butterfly Swords, there is an instant affinity because no matter how white my insides are, I will always be generically Asian to everyone who looks at me. And I want and enjoy the affirmation that my ancestors have stories and tales worth publication. That is meaningful. I won’t deny this.

Yet for all affinity that the cover brings for me, Butterfly Swords, isn’t a banana, all yellow on the outside and white on the inside, but there is a core of universality in her story that any romance reader will instantly recognize. A girl bound to honor the wishes of her family, struggling to bring justice for the death of her brother, and wondering how she can fit her own love into the tapestry of the family legacy. A man who has lost his identity, or maybe never had it, who finds a purpose when he falls in love.

When I was reading Butterfly Swords, it spoke to me on a very deep level. This was a story, not technically about my people and my heritage, but it was a story that was about Others and even though I grew up very Western, my blood was forged in the East. I so appreciate that Jeannie Lin and Harlequin are bringing the history of the East to all of us. I just hope that people who might feel Other by looking at the cover, will remember that stories are all a bit of fantasy and you can lose yourself in this story as easily as one set in Regency England.

This book can be downloaded at NetGalley for those who want to write a review. You can write a review on Goodreads, Amazon, Library Thing or even here. I’ve set up a page for them.

Why I Write by Courtney Milan

Jane — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 18:00:24 +0000

I started a Why I Read/Why I Write series earlier in the year but couldn’t sustain enough submissions to keep posting them. Courtney Milan sent this to me earlier in the year and I promised to post it near her release date.

****

Insert the depressing numbers of your choice into this paragraph: Of the wannabe authors who start a novel, only one out of a gazillion will finish. Of those who finish a novel, one out of a thrillion will find a publisher. Maybe one out of a bobillion will get a second contract, and of those, a mere snarkful will make more than thruppence per hogshead of sweated blood.

Another depressing fact: In order to write a novel, an author must sweat many hogsheads of blood. So why would any rational person ever voluntarily write a book?

Here’s the socially acceptable answer: "The pleasure of writing is compensation enough, and publishing is just be an added bonus! I write for the sheer joy of it."

Um. Sometimes writing is a joy for me. But sometimes I despise it, and so I harbor dark suspicions whenever anyone claims writing is nothing but kittens and cheery yellow daffodils. I don’t write just for pleasure; if I did, I would have stopped after the first month. Sometimes I enjoy it, but when the going gets tough, writing is torment. Why would any rational person ever write a book?

I can’t answer that question. I write because I am not a rational person.

In fact, I suspect rational people rarely write novels. Deciding to write fiction is like looking at a mountain and saying, "See Kilimanjaro? I’m going to climb it."

A brief pause for rational analysis: In the "pro" column for Kilimanjaro-scaling, we have "dubious bragging rights." In the "con" column, we have "tremendous expense," "guaranteed fatigue," "weeks of discomfort," and "potential loss of life."

The irrational person lifts her chin to Kilimanjaro, glances over the cons with a crazy glint in her eye, and thinks: I could die. Awesome. Bring it on.

You have to be irrational to write, not just because the possibility of reward is miniscule, but because good stories are about a character’s inability to accept that what they must have is impossible. Easy journeys over obscure hills, chosen to maximize the healthful benefits of exercise and minimize the possibility of death, make boring books. Irrationality is the stuff of stories.

It’s also the stuff of determination. I would not write if it were not hard. I look at those impossible, irrational numbers and think, I could struggle for the rest of my life in obscurity, and nobody will ever care how many hogsheads of blood I sweat.

Bring it on.

—–
Courtney Milan
http://www.courtneymilan.com
“This Wicked Gift,” in THE HEART OF CHRISTMAS, HQN, available now
PROOF BY SEDUCTION, HQN, January 2010
- Show quoted text -

Why I Readâ€¦by Chloe

Jane — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 10:00:27 +0000

No first sale today. Instead we have two essays. Later by an author on why she writes but right now, a very very special Why I Read.

****

I learned to read when I was 4, just as my 4-year-old best friend Danny became sick (he was dying of leukemia) and I was starting to be sexually abused by a next-door neighbor. I quickly discovered that when you open a book you could jump into a new world and escape the world that you are forced to live in.

Danny was the one who first made me realize the power of books. No matter how crappy he felt if you read him Put Me in the Zoo he would giggle and glow with enjoyment. I read him that book hundreds of times before he died when we were 6 and it never failed to make him feel better.

By the time I was 6 and raped for the first time by that neighbor, I was reading at a 6th grade level and the books I devoured were the likes of Nancy Drew, the Hardy Brothers, Trixie Belden, the Box Car Kids, Little Women and The Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler.

How did I read? In my mind, every book was read out loud in my head — the narrator starting out with the voice of Cary Grant, Charleton Heston, Jimmy Stewart or Julie Andrews — until I had enough of a description of a character to assign him/her the voice of some other actor/actress. I’d create the book’s world in my head and have the characters act out the story; tweaking the scenery and my images of the characters as the story developed. Reading helped me to escape the hell of my life and when the rapes were occurring I frequently distanced myself from what was happening to my body by having my mind replay books in my head.

By the 3rd grade I had literally read every book in our school’s library (including encyclopedias) and all the "children’s" books in our public library. One day, the reference librarian recommended the book Mrs. Mike to me. That turned out to really be a gift as it offered me a heroine that was based on a real-life woman who was able to rise above loss and tragedy (house burns down, her 2 children die, etc.) through her strength of spirit. While not truly a romance, it started me on my love of the HEA and strong kick-ass heroine in the books I choose to read.

I easily read 30 books a week for many years as the trauma from the sexual abuse left me unable to sleep more than 2 hours a night and I needed a way to keep my mind off of abuse flashbacks. Romances, suspense, sci-fi, mysteries – didn’t matter what type of book as long as I could jump into the world the author created and there was a some type of a happy ending.

I am alive today because of books. Over 5 years ago, my abuse flashbacks were coming to a head and I was getting maybe 30 minutes of sleep each night after I’d wake up screaming from what I call the "five rape marathon flashback". Nora Roberts/JD Robb’s "In Death" series saved my life. I had started counseling the same year Naked in Death was published and tried to read the book when it came out based on the recommendation of a friend. But as soon as I realized that Eve had been abused as a child, I put the book down and didn’t pick it up again until 3 years later (now, If I knew that the great Nora had written the book at the time I might have given it a shot, but at the time the fact that Nora was JD Robb was not known.) Once I was able to read the "In Death" books, it became a lifeline for me as Nora has really nailed what it is like for a survivor of childhood sexual abuse in the character of Eve – if Eve could find a way to grow and move on with her life so could I. Rereading my "In Death" books saved me from ending my life as I clung to the hope Nora offered through Eve. One night, I finally was at the point where it was either end my life or end the nightmare – and I chose to live as I mentally killed my sexual abuser during one of the rape flashbacks (chose one of the methods Roarke used in Revenge in Death by the way.)

February marked the 2-year anniversary of the last time I had a flashback of my sexual abuse. While my life is so much better I can’t really believe it, it has had an impact on how I read and how many books I read each week. When I killed my abuser, it somehow impacted the ability I had to act out the books in my head – a famous person no longer narrates the books anymore. My counselor said that it was because I no longer needed to have someone else’s voice in my head to escape my life. Whatever the reason, I find that it takes me much longer to read a book because I’m still waiting for Sean Connery (Roarke and many other characters) to take me away into the wonderful world of whatever book I’m reading. So I now only read about 5 books a week.

The impact of books on a person’s life should never be taken for granted. Nora Roberts definitely did save my life with the "In Death" books. Recently, Jill Shalvis, a guest reviewer at Dear Author, recommended Deadline by Chris Crutcher and it helped me to come to terms with my father’s impending death and the way he has chosen to deal with it better than any non-fiction book or counselor. I’m also a great fan of children’s books to lift your spirits when you’re down – I defy anyone to read Help Me, Mr. Mutt by Janet Stevens without laughing out loud and feeling a thousand times better than before you started the book.

Any authors out there should pat themselves on the back because they never know how their stories will impact someone’s life – providing a needed escape or a great belly laugh or the strength to chose life when you’re wallowing in a pit of shame/hurt/pain.

Reclaiming Your Copyright After Thirty-Five Years

Jane — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 10:00:20 +0000

Introduction

This is a long article. Grab a cup of coffee and settle in. I wrote this article and sent it to the RWR but it wasn’t suited for publication so I thought I would share it with you. The right to sever a copyright grant after 35 years came to my attention when Evan Schnittman mentioned it briefly at the end of one of his articles. I went off to research the issue because I found it fascinating. This is what I learned.

A new author enters a publishing contract with very little negotiating power. She is presented with a contract with stock terms and an offer of an advance in exchange for an assignment of her intellectual property rights to the publisher. Often she is in the position of either taking the contract with little changes or not publishing. The Supreme Court noted that “authors are congenitally irresponsible, [and] that frequently they are so sorely pressed for funds that they are willing to sell their work for a mere pittance.” Fisher Music Co. v. Witmark, 318 U.S. 643, 656 (1943).

Congress, who is responsible for setting the parameters of the copyright law in the United States, recognizes the economic imbalance between authors and publishers and has tried to include provisions to correct the imbalance. One of those provisions under the current copyright law is the right of termination of a previously granted copyright.

Historical Background

Initially, the 1909 Copyright Law allowed for renewal terms. The 1909 Copyright Law was based, in part, on the Statute of Anne, the very first law that provided protection for the creative works of authors. The Statute of Anne granted authors 14 years of protection and the 1909 Copyright Law doubled it. The creator of a work registered for a copyright and was granted protection for 28 years. At the end of 28 years, the creator could renew the copyright for another 28 years. The need for renewal allowed the creator to renegotiate the original grant of copyright, usually for better terms. As the end of the two year renewal terms loomed near, Congress began debating extension of the copyright.

Congress passed the Copyright Act of 1976 and added 19 years to the copyrights which were created under the 1909 Act giving those works 75 years of protection. New works were granted protection for the life of the author plus fifty years (which was the international standard at the time). In the Copyright Renewal Act of 1992, Congress did away with renewals added an additional 47 years of protection. This essentially made copyright protection for all works published under the 1909 Act to have a copyright term of 75 years.

Sonny Bono Copyright Term Extension Act (known as CTEA) added an additional 20 years of protection to all copyrighted works. Works produced on and after January 1, 1978 were granted life of the author plus seventy years. Works created prior to January 1, 1978, and either in the first or second term of renewal, were granted an additional 20 years of protection.

The longer term both helps and hurts authors. It helps authors in that they and their heirs are entitled to more revenue from their creative works, but it hurts because there is no time in which an author can renegotiate her rights if that is not a provision in the original grant language.

Essentially the renewal period in the 1909 Act allowed for a natural reversion of rights. Renewal was complicated for an author. Many missed the renewal deadline, failed to follow the procedure accurately, and signed away their expectancy in the first time instead of waiting. Congress, when it eliminated renewals and extended the period of protection, included a reversion of rights through a termination procedure.

Section 203:

In the case of any work other than a work made for hire, the exclusive or nonexclusive grant of a transfer or license of copyright or of any right under a copyright, executed by the author on or after January 1, 1978, otherwise than by will, is subject to termination…

Upon the effective date of termination, all rights under this title that were covered by the terminated grants revert to the author, authors, and other persons owning termination interests…

17 U.S.C.A. § 203 (a) (2009).

The purpose of Section 203 is to provide authors a natural reversion of rights so that they get a second bite at the bargaining apple. It allows any author, or a person assigned by the author, to terminate the original grant during a five year period beginning 35 years after the publication was made or 40 years after the grant of rights, whichever comes first.

The key difference between Section 203 and section 304 is who has the right to terminate the grant of copyright. Section 203 applies only to contracts signed by authors and only the author and the author’s assignee via a will or other document would have the right to exercise the termination provision.

Ostensibly, Section 203 limits the duration of a grant or a maximum period of time in which a grant can be effective. After that maximum period of time has expired, the author recaptures her rights and has the ability to put them on the marketplace once again. Contractually, an author and her publisher can grant a shorter period of time. For example, a standard author contract has an “out of print” provision which requires a publisher to keep the work in print for a period of time. If the publisher allows the work to go out of print for a period of six months or more, the author may request by written notice that the work be placed back into print. If the publisher fails to do so within a proscribed period of time, then the grant is terminated and the rights revert back to the author.

Each contract must be examined for reversion of rights language and how reversion of rights is to be effectuated. “In print” is defined by the contract and standard terms may include language such as “in print if it is in stock or available for sale in any edition of the Publisher or any of its licensees”. The timing or occurrence of reversion of rights can differ for print v. digital rights, or territorial rights. Digital rights will often revert if, during a period of time, royalties do not exceed a specified floor.

If the publisher is keeping the work in print, however, rights would never revert back and, therefore, an author is entitled to reclaim those rights through the exercise of Section 203 termination.

What Can You Terminate Under Section 203?

An author can terminate almost any transfer of her copyright if the grant was executed on or after January 1, 1978. The grant must fulfill the following qualifications:

a) Not be a work for hire
b) Executed by the author and no one else
c) Not a grant made via a will

Problems arise if the original grant was open ended. The Rano v. Sipa, 987 F.2d 580 (9th Cir. 1992) case suggests that an open ended contractual grant cannot be terminated except for that 5 year period defined in Section 203. Walthal v. Rusk, 172 F.3d 481 (7th Cir. 1999), determined that a contract for an indefinite period of time can be terminated by the request of either party to the contract. Thus in some states, unless the original grant is for longer than 35 years, the contract will not be terminable until the conditions of Section 203 are satisfied.

Further, derivative works that were made pursuant to the grant cannot be terminated.

Who Can Terminate?

Basically, the author and the author’s heirs are the only ones entitled to terminate a grant made after January 1, 1978. In the case of an anthology, or joint work, a majority of the authors must execute the notice for termination.

This becomes more complicated if the author has died, in the case of either a solo or joint work. For example, for the heirs to terminate a grant, they must hold more than 50 percent interest in the work. If the author has a spouse, the spouse is entitled to the entire interest, but if the author has children, the spouse is entitled to only 50 percent and the remaining 50 percent is split between children and grandchildren (obviously this is an issue ripe for a book!). In Larry Spier, Inc. v. Bourne Co., 953 F.2d 774, 777 (2d. Cir. 1992), the author included his mistress as a beneficiary in his will, but the court found that the mistress was not entitled to a termination right because the statute applied only to spouses and children.

When Can You Terminate?

Termination of the grant may be effected at any time during a period of five years beginning at the end of thirty-five years from the date of execution of the grant; or, if the grant covers the right of publication of the work, the period begins at the end of thirty-five years from the date of publication of the work under the grant or at the end of forty years from the date of execution of the grant, whichever term ends earlier.

17 U.S.C.A. § 203(a)(3) (2009).

An author is entitled to terminate the grant 35 years after the execution or 40 years after the first date of publication, whichever comes first. In order for termination to occur and rights to revert, notice must be timely given. According to Section 203, notice must be within 10 years, but no less than two years before the effective date of termination provided in the notice.

Equation:

Date of Execution of Grant + 40 = X
Date of Publication + 35 = Y

Compare X and Y. Which is the earliest date?
Earliest date – 10 = first date you can send in your termination notice

Earliest date - 2 = last date you can send in your termination notice

Example 1:

Book rights are sold to a publisher in 1980 and the book is published in 1982

1980 = date of execution of the grant
1982 = date of publication

1980 + 40 = 2020
1982+35 = 2017

2017 v. 2020 = 2017 being the earlier date
2017 -10 = 2007 is the first date upon which to terminate a grant
2017-2 = 2015 is the last date upon which to terminate a grant.

How Do I Terminate?

The termination shall be effected by serving an advance notice in writing, signed by the number and proportion of owners of termination interests … or by their duly authorized agents, upon the grantee or the grantee’s successor in title.

17 U.S.C.A. § 203(a)(3) (2009).

The Code of Federal Regulation §210.10(b)(2) lays out in detail the contents of the termination notice. It does not provide a form. A termination notice should include the following for each work (other provisions apply if it is the heirs who are terminating the grant):

Name and address of the author or authors heirs
Date of the execution of the grant (often this will be the date of the signed contract) and the date of the first publication of the work.
Title of the work and the author. If it is a joint work such as anthology, the notice should list all the authors who are requesting the termination.
Original copyright number, if possible.
A statement describing the original grant.
The effective date of the termination.
Signature of the author or authors or duly authorized agent.

Each termination notice must be recorded with the Copyright Office with the correct information and during the correct time frame. Failure to properly record a termination may result in the termination being invalid. In other words, this is not something you should try at home, but rather contact an entertainment lawyer or your agent to effectuate the termination. Once those rights are reverted back, the content creator has another opportunity to sell their valuable works.

Only Terminate Once

While Congress wanted to protect authors, it is determined that the authors are only entitled to one chance at renegotiating their contracts. In Penguin Group (USA) v. Steinbeck, 537 F.3d 193, 204 (2nd Cir. 2008), the court noted that the termination provision could only be used once by authors and their heirs:

It should be noted that under our view, authors or their statutory heirs holding termination rights are still left with an opportunity to threaten (or to make good on a threat) to exercise termination rights and extract more favorable terms from early grants of an author’s copyright. But nothing in the statute suggests that an author or an author’s statutory heirs are entitled to more than one opportunity, between them, to use termination rights to enhance their bargaining power or to exercise them. See 17 U.S.C. § 304(d) (permitting exercise of termination right only "where the author or owner of the termination right has not previously exercised such termination right").

Conclusion

It is increasingly important to obtain one’s rights in this changing publishing period. The second chance to negotiate one’s work can result in a higher royalty rate, new advances, and other economic opportunities.

Disclaimer: A short article can never address all the legalities of termination and the following is only intended to provide an overview. Those that have questions about a specific grant should seek legal counsel as soon as possible. The works that are subject to a pre January 1, 1978, grant must follow the termination clause provision in Section 304. Those works that were subject to a grant post January 1, 1978, must follow the termination clause in Section 203. This article addresses only Section 203 provisions.

ESSAY: Why I Love to Read and to Write by Gail Dayton

Jane — Wed, 11 Mar 2009 10:00:41 +0000

Last winter, I posted that I would love to hear from readers, writers, bloggers about why they read, write and blog. Gail Dayton, author of the new book, New Blood, offers up this personal account.

***

I love to read. No, I looooove to read. And I read fast. I read about 300 books a year (counting re-reads). So when I saw the Ja(y)nes offer to post essays on reading, writing and the love thereof, I got to thinking-’WHY do I love reading and writing so much.

It’s the stories. My cousin Diane taught me to read when I was just four, and from that moment, I’ve been caught up in the worlds opened up to me by books. But I think my addiction to story must go earlier than that, because my mother likes to talk about taking me to see Bambi with my multitude of cousins when I was three. (Mama is the youngest of four sisters, each of whom had four kids, except for Aunt Bettye, who had six…The family Thanksgiving is massive.) For weeks afterward, my invisible friend Bambi went everywhere with me. Hey, at least Bambi was a deer and didn’t require his own plate at the dinner table, like the fella’s invisible friend Mister. (Mister got on a plane one day and flew to Chicago, never to be seen again.)

Stories fire my imagination and, for a little while, let me live in That world, instead of this-’often boring-’one. In the world of story, ANYTHING can happen.

Which is why I write. I still have invisible friends. No, really. TIME magazine quoted researchers who discovered that fiction writers’ relationships with their characters is virtually identical with a child’s relationship with his invisible friends. We know they’re not real. Honest. We do know. But we still have no control over them. They go off and do stuff just because they want to, and we have no way to stop them.

Back to the topic. I don’t write just because I get to hang out with invisible friends. I write because I get to tell stories. And in those stories, ANYTHING can happen. Dragons are real. Soul mates can find their destiny. People can recover from tragedy. Even all of the above. And, despite the fact that characters can go their own way, I can still tell the story I want to tell. (The characters usually know better than I do.)

I started wanting to tell stories MY way back in-’junior high, I think. That’s when I inherited a bunch of my dad’s old books. Copies of Robin Hood in archaic English. The originalTarzan by Edgar Rice Burroughs. I literally read the cover off Tarzan. The only problem I saw was that Tarzan didn’t have a sister. Jane really didn’t cut it as a place-holder for the role I wanted to play in the book. I wanted to live in the jungle too. So I made up one.

I graduated from fan fiction sometime in college, eventually learned to finish a book, and here I am. I still love to read, and I still love to write (even though these days it sometimes can feel like work). Because it’s all about the story.

***

If you would like to contribute a guest essay on why you read, why you write or why you blog, please send an email to Jane at dearauthor.com with “Essay” in the subject line.

Essay: Why I Read by Keishon

Jane — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 06:00:26 +0000

Last winter, I posted that I would love to hear from readers, writers, bloggers about why they read, write and blog. Keishon, avid book reader, is one of our favorite bloggers here at Dear Author. Three of us here are participating in her monthly TBR challenge. Keishon is the reader who introduced me to Julia Spencer Fleming’s writing, among others.

***

Let’s see, why do I read. A little background is in order. First off, I come from a family of readers. I started reading in high school, way back in the 90′s and it more or less came out of curiosity. A friend of mine would come to school everyday with a book in her hand and one day she was crying her eyes out. I asked her what she was reading and she said, V.C. Andrews, the book was SEEDS OF YESTERDAY. I went to the school library the next day, located the first book, FLOWERS IN THE ATTIC and after that I was well on my way to reading. I read the entire series and understood my friend’s uncontrollable tears. Moving on.

I went to my mother next and asked her if she had any books around the house and she did. She gave me a paperback of Victoria Holt’s gothic romance, THE HOUSE OF A THOUSAND LANTERNS and I loved it. I went searching for that woman’s back list like a mad woman and read almost every Victoria Holt novel that was out there. My mother even asked her friend for rec’s for me and that friend introduced me to LaVyrle Spencer, nuff said. At that point I could call myself a ‘reader.’

Anyway, that’s how I got started reading but the essay asks: why do I read. I read to escape real life but more importantly, books offer the best way to travel to all the different parts of the world on the cheap. I love reading because there’s nothing better than a good book. I get a natural high going when I am reading a really good book. I mean admit it, when you’re reading a really good book, you tend to forget all the stresses in your life. I go to work happy knowing that I got a good book waiting for me at home. I also read to increase my knowledge base and vocabulary and more importantly, it’s a pleasure getting to know all the different characters, different personality types, seeing how other people live their life and to be completely lost in their world. But the best part of reading for me? is meeting other readers who love to read, too. It just doesn’t get any better than that.

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If you would like to contribute a guest essay on why you read, why you write or why you blog, please send an email to Jane at dearauthor.com with “Essay” in the subject line.

Essay: Why I Read by Bev Stephans

Jane — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 10:00:30 +0000

Last winter, I posted that I would love to hear from readers, writers, bloggers about why they read, write and blog. Bev Stephans was one of the first to come forth and share her story with our community about why she reads.

***

I don’t have a blog and I don’t write books, but I love to read and I love to talk about what I read.

I have been reading since I first learned how in school. My Dad used to take me to the library once a week and it was a magical place. All those books and I could only choose a few each time. In time, I had read all the books at my reading level and started on the next level.

Then we moved and we had a library nearby that I could walk to all by myself. What a treat. This wonderful library not only had more books than the previous library, but they had a marvelous doll’s house that I spent hours looking at.

Then we moved again and there was no library nearby. I was devastated and started stealing my mother’s paperbacks to read. Some were romances, but most were mysteries. My mother loved Perry Mason stories and I just never cared for them. She also liked the Agatha Christie mysteries which I loved. This started me on a life-long love of Ms. Christie (or Dame Agatha).

Our next two moves brought us to towns that had decent public libraries and I was in heaven again. The last town was finally where my parents settled and my sister still lives in their house.

As you can see, I have had a good grounding in the printed word that started a long journey to where I am today. I read because I can’t imagine a life without books. I can do without television and I could even do without my computer (gulp!), but I could never do without a book.

***

If you would like to contribute a guest essay on why you read, why you write or why you blog, please send an email to Jane at dearauthor.com with “Essay” in the subject line.