The Temporary Wife by Mary Balogh

This is one of Balogh’s most beloved traditional regencies, up there with The Notorious Rake as far as being many Balogh readers’ favorite Balogh. It was recently reissued in a 2-in-1 edition with A Promise of Spring and I took the time to reread and review it. I found that it was even more enjoyable the second time around. What I love about it is the transformation of the hero (and his relatives) from joylessness to joy. Grade: B+/A-

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A Promise of Spring by Mary Balogh

This one, on the other hand, was a disappointment. It started out wonderfully, as a sweet and tender older woman/younger man romance. The heroine had lost a child who happened to be illegitimate in her youth, and the hero’s total acceptance of her was so romantic. If only the book hadn’t gone downhill from there, with kitchen sink plotting, rushed resolutions, and contrivances that made both characters (but especially the hero) seem stupid or inconsistent. Review here. Grade: C-

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Midnight Riot by Ben Aaronovitch

I’m so glad this urban fantasy/police procedural was recommended to me. Its hero, Peter Grant, is a new London Metropolitan Police constable who discovers that he has some paranormal abilities. Under the tutelage of an older (who knows how much older?) police inspector/wizard, Peter learns to cast spells and pursues a dangerous supernatural villain who threatens those close to him. Witty, snarky, and immensely entertaining. Review here. Grade: B+

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Fair Game by Patricia Briggs

What a blast I had reading this book. It wasn’t perfect by any means but I was grateful to discover that even three books and one novella into the Alpha and Omega series, my love for Charles and Anna has not faded. I especially loved seeing how strong Anna has grown. Her cleverness shines in this book. I didn’t love the way Charles’ conflict was resolved, but there is something so tender about their relationship, especially considering they are up against violence their own monstrous nature, and I find that so touching. Here’s Josephine’s review. My grade: B+/A-

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Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Laini Taylor

My husband and I recently finished reading this YA fantasy which Jia reviewed a while back (the book was also in DABWAHA). A mystery wrapped in a roller coaster ride, Daughter of Smoke and Bone is poetic and romantic. The more time goes on, the more the book stays with me. I think it’s the kind of novel that can be reread as soon as one finishes it because once the secret at its center is uncovered, it casts the whole book in a new light. I love books that do that. Oh, what the heck. I think I’ll grade this one A-.

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Confessions from an Arranged Marriage by Miranda Neville

This book took a while to really grab me, but once it took off, it became a very emotional story. We recently had a guest post on heroines and shame, but in this book, it’s the hero who carries a shameful secret, one that causes him to pretend an indifference that he does not feel. The journey Blake and his new bride, Minerva, undergo, is bumpy to say the least, but it leads them both to grow into people who can understand and accept one another, and that’s a big part of what love is about. Review here. Grade: B+

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Thunder and Roses by Mary Jo Putney

I saw that Putney’s classic Fallen Angels series has been reissued electronically and since once upon a time it was a favorite series of mine, I decided to revisit it. I’m currently rereading this, book one in the series, and so far, it’s not holding up to my memories of it. It’s never been one of my most favorite Putneys but now I find I have mixed feelings about both the hero and the heroine, as well as their central values conflict over whether sex outside marriage is wrong (her view) or natural and desirable (his) . I still love the strip billiards scene but it isn’t enough to make up for the other problems. Review here. Grade: D

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A Monster Calls: Inspired by an idea from Siobhan Dowd by Patrick Ness

This was another one I read with my husband. It’s a fantasy about a thirteen year old boy whose mother has cancer. One night a monster comes to visit Conor, and as these visitations continue, the monster tells him stories and insists Conor will have to repay in kind, by telling the true story that terrifies him. The book was inspired by an idea from Siobhan Dowd, who died of cancer herself before she could write it. This made me feel Scrooge-like for being underwhelmed. My review can be found here. Grade: C+

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Tangle of Need by Nalini Singh

Book #11 in the Psy/Changeling series won’t be out until May 29 but I read the ARC in March in preparation for a joint review Jennie and I have in the works. There are developments on several fronts here, but the central romance is that of Adria (Indigo’s young aunt) and Riaz, both wounded souls. Their relationship is complicated by the fact that Riaz’s wolf has already recognized its mate, and it isn’t Adria. While this wasn’t one of my top favorites in the series, I did very much appreciate that it dared to explore some tough questions about the nature of the mating bond. Joint review with Jennie to come.

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What about you? What have you been reading lately? Have you read any of the books I mention above and if so, what did you think of them? And are you on a hot streak or in a reading slump?

Related posts:

1. What Jia’s Been Reading in February
2. Dear Author Recommends for March
3. What Janine is Reading – Late 2011/Early 2012

I have always enjoyed your romances, ever since I started reading romance nigh on six years ago. I particularly enjoyed The Marriage Spell, which was a hybrid of fantasy and regency—a hybrid that very much appealed to me. Although there is a tradition within YA and fantasy novels of depicting alternate histories of England in which magic is real, this is not a technique that has often been utilized in the romance genre. At least, not to the extent that romance has crossed into horror or urban fantasy with the paranormal romance.

Having read The Marriage Spell, I was really looking forward to future books in The Stone Saints series. Alas, this was not to be. I’m not entirely sure what happened, but for whatever reason that series never saw the light of day after The Marriage Spell. Secondary characters from that book were subsequently transformed into boring, ordinary, totally magic-less heroes for your Lost Lords series. Well, that’s how I read them, in any case.

Thus, it was very interesting to me, indeed, when I learned that you were going to be branching out into the YA genre with a new book, this book. It became even more interesting to me when I realized that you were using the basic world of The Marriage Spell, albeit tweaked just a little. I suspect that other romance readers who have read and enjoyed that book will find themselves on familiar terra firma when they crack the spine of this new book, Dark Mirror.

Like The Marriage Spell, Dark Mirror is set in a Regency England in which magic exists. Not only does it exist but it is openly acknowledged. Neither Church nor State prosecutes magic and the English people themselves are comfortable with the idea of magic and mages.  The only group of people for whom magic is less than desirable is the Upper Ten Thousand or those who have pretentions to make that the Upper Ten Thousand and One. Social climbers and aristocrats find magic vulgar and mean, much in the same way that they would find anyone involved in trade or manufacturing. It is not a sin, but it is a sign of ill-breeding and general lack of taste.

Into this world enters the heroine, Lady Victoria Mansfield (called Tory by her family). Tory is the daughter of an Earl and has no desire whatsoever to have anything to do with magic. Thus, it comes as somewhat of a shock when she wakes up from a dream about flying to discover herself floating above her bed. Startling enough in itself, the situation worsens when her mother walks in on her. Her mother does not act in the predictable way. She doesn’t seem surprised, she just seems sad. Tory discovers that magic is an unfortunate trait that she inherited from her Russian grandmother, a trait that seems to have affected all the women in her mother’s family to varying degrees. By far, though, Tory’s magic is the most powerful. Her mother warns her that it is best to hide the magic lest her father, who is hyper-conscious of his dignity, send her to the notorious reform school, one Lackland Abbey, for all aristocratic children unfortunate enough to have been born with, and who have displayed, a tendency towards magic.

Tory is only too happy to comply with her mother’s request. But I think you can guess, dear readers, where this is going. Tory is presented with a moral conundrum, if there ever was one, not a day after the revelation of her own particular skills. During a garden party her mother is holding, her young nephew goes over a cliff’s edge. Instead of falling to his death, the toddler ends up caught on some branches growing out of the side of the cliff face. No one can get to him because the edges of the cliff crumble under too much weight. But Tory can get to him, of course, because she can fly. The choice is one between saving her nephew or retaining her reputation. Because Tory is a heroine, in the true sense of that word, she chooses her nephew. But it is a choice not without severe consequences herself.

She is immediately snubbed and cut by everyone present (with the exception of her brother and sister-in-law) and worse, her father rejects her near totally, having her pack for Lackland Abbey, to which he will send her the next day. Tory, herself, swings between feeling the injustice of her punishment, betrayed by those she loves the most, and hope that successfully graduating from Lackland Abbey will allow her, once again, to return to her old life. But it is the slow dissolution of that hope that occupies most of the story. Or rather, the realization on Tory’s part that her magic is a gift, not a curse, and that whatever happens at Lackland Abbey, she cannot return to her old life.

Dark Mirror, in these early chapters, has all the markings of a school story. Tory meets the various characters occupying Lackland Abbey: there are the outcasts who revel in their powers, the abusive and mean-spirited teacher, the spoilt beauty, and since Lackland Abbey is a co-ed institution (or rather, there’s a boys’ side and a girls’ side), the requisite unattainable dreamboat.

Warning! Some SPOILERS ahead:

But suddenly the story takes a bit of a twist. Tory discovers that beneath Lackland Abbey are medieval tunnels constructed back when the abbey was a working monastery. It is here, in these tunnels, that two professors—one from the girls’ side and one from the boys’—train a group of students to control their magic. It is the belief of this group that Napoleon is going to attack England before long and, as with the Spanish armada, it is up to the mages of England to push back this threat.

But that’s not all. During one of the yearly raids that the school governors performs on the tunnels of Lackland Abbey, Tory gets separated from her group and stumbles into a tunnel. The raiders are hot on her heels, and before she quite knows what is happening, a dark mirror has appeared before her and she falls into it. Emerging on the other side, Tory has no idea where she is. But she swiftly realizes that she is not in her own time. In fact, she has stumbled one hundred and fifty years into the future at a time when Britain is again threatened by an army marching across Europe. Only this time, it is the Germans, not the French. The rest of the book has Tory and her friends going back and forth through time using their magic not to prevent the invasion of Napoleon, but the invasion of Hitler.

I was not expecting this, but once I got used to the divergent track the story took, I found it much more enjoyable than if it had stayed the school story it had stared out as. In employing the time travel, Putney creates much more complex and interesting plot than it would have been if there was just a lot of midnight meetings and school rivalries. In fact, I get a little sick of the main obstacle in the path of the heroine being whether or not she triumphs socially.

To be fair, though, I think that this switch is so unexpected as to be somewhat abrupt. The earlier chapters really do set this novel up to be a typical school story. I do not see a lot of hints, early on, as to the change that will occur. Once it does, the story moves smoothly forward. But the switch from school story to time travel does seem rather out of the blue—it is as if the book started out in one kind of genre and ended in another. However, once it was done, the story was much more exciting and interesting, so I guess I can forgive the change.

In many, many ways, this book does not differ from other Putney stories. The characters are well crafted and simultaneously adhere to a type, whilst breaking out of the stereotype. Take the character of Cynthia Stanton, daughter to a duke. At the beginning of the story she occupies the position of rival and tormenter, the position Draco Malfoy held in the Harry Potter series; but when the book takes its turn into a different adventure, so too does her character turn. Suddenly, it becomes clear to Tory and, even more so, to the reader, that Cynthia is not the shallow and arrogant miss she seems. I point this out because I think it is one of Putney’s strengths as a writer. In fact, one of the things I’ve always liked about Putney is that she uses the tropes and conventions of the genre she’s working in but she always complicates them in a really interesting way. Cynthia Stanton’s character is just one way in which she does this in Dark Mirror.

Those familiar with Putney’s romance novels should know that tonally the book is much more juvenile and, I think, some would even say anachronistic than other Putney books. That is, the way Putney uses prose here is dissimilar enough from her other books that I noticed it. While the slightly more teenaged tenor of the prose was initially a bit jarring (I mean, Tory as a nickname?), ultimately I did not think that this prose style or tonal style was a problem for two reasons: 1) it is a book meant for a younger audience. Labeling it as a YA means that, not only will it be devoid of sex scenes, but that it will occupy shelf space at libraries and bookstores intended for children ages 12-18, possibly younger as in 5^th and 6^th graders. Because of this the more juvenile tone is appropriate. And 2) because it is a time-travel and book in which magic works, it occupies an alterior space in history. That is, it is a story set in an already anachronistic and ahistorical frame which, while it shares our history, also does not share our history in one important way: it has magic. This might seem like splitting hairs, but I think it is an important differentiation because whether the story works or not is less about being mimetically accurate to a “real world” and more about maintaining and deploying an internal logic that is cohesive with the world in which the story takes place.  Does the magic work? Does it fit itself to those aspects of history it takes from? I think this is a point, quite frankly, that probably needs to be reiterated with every book regardless or setting and supernatural occurrence. However, I did feel both of these points needed to be mentioned since romance readers may be going into this Putney expecting an historical romance (whatever that is) and getting a slightly different kind of book in a slightly different genre.

There is romance in this book. But I do not think that this book is a romance novel. Instead, it is much more kin and cousin to books like Sorcery and Cecelia or The Perilous Garde. The love story is important, but it is not central. What is central is the girl’s own adventure story quality of this novel. Tory is an intrepid heroine: she time-travels, she rescues soldiers, she trains to fight in, not one, but two wars. She begins to think for herself about what she wants, and takes pleasure in her learning about her own powers and talents. In short, she has an adventure and like all adventures, it changes her. It’s very Joseph Campbell, really.

If you are like me, and enjoy the mish-mash of romance and fantasy, then this is probably a book you will enjoy. If you are also like me and loathe unending fantasy series (George R.R. Martin, I’m looking at you, you son of a bitch), then be assured: while this book has a sequel in the works, it also stands on its own.  An enjoyable and engaging read, full of adventure and love. B

Lazaraspaste

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Related posts:

1. REVIEW: Christmas Revels by Mary Jo Putney
2. REVIEW: The Marriage Spell by Mary Jo Putney
3. REVIEW: Petals in the Storm by Mary Jo Putney

When I first started reading Romance, I was stunned by the genre's apparent comfort with sexual force against female characters and uncomfortable with both the contention that it's pure fantasy and therefore completely resistant to analysis and that it's pure patriarchy and therefore part of a reactionary agenda in the genre. Having worked extensively with captivity narratives and 19th century sentimental and sensational fictions, I could recognize the influence of Romance's literary ancestry, but still, why would a genre so overtly concerned with offering its heroines the True Love ideal make such liberal use of sexual violence toward women?

This piece emerges from an inquiry that I believe requires and is worthy of substantial, long-term critical attention. I am starting and ending with the assertion that not all rape is created equal in the genre, as well as the assertion that the uses of sexual force in Romance are contextualized by both the individual book and the individual reader. The villain's threat of violence against the heroine is not substantively the same as the hero's use of sexual force against the heroine, for example. While both instances may constitute fantasy on the most generalized and superficial level, potential rape by a villain is generally not a rape fantasy in the sense that the heroine's imposed sexual submission to the hero is likely to be.

Further, the rape fantasy, as a romanticized erotic interlude between the hero and heroine, will function as romantically successful, empowering, or liberating to the extent that the heroine and/or the reader responds to the incident and interprets/values its consequences within the context of the relationship and the story itself. For me, the key element in valuing these rape fantasies (sometimes referred to as forced seductions) is the extent to which the reader consents on behalf of the heroine, not only to the hero's forceful taking, but also to the happy romantic ending that the couple share. Whether these incidents of sexual force are politically liberating or limiting in regard to female sexuality and patriarchal dominance is a distinct if related question, and one to which I will posit the answer as both.

Authors like Mary Jo Putney and Jayne Ann Krentz have argued that "the male protagonist of a romance is often both hero and villain, and the heroine's task and triumph is to civilize him, to turn him from a marauder into a worthy mate," a protector ("Welcome to the Dark Side," from Dangerous Men and Adventurous Women, 1992). Sara Davis explains the compulsive popularity of Romances by pointing out that, "wherever they turn in the popular culture, girls and women are reaffirmed in the idea that romance is the dominant and most crucial quest in their lives" ("Values and the Romance: Journeys of the Reader"), echoing Cathy Davidson's analysis of 18th and 19th century women's writing and reading patterns – namely that whether and whom to marry have been among the most important choices a woman makes in her life, and our romantic anxieties, hopes, fears, and ideals are projected and mirrored back to us ubiquitously throughout our lives (Revolution and the Word: The Rise of the Novel in America, 1986). That women often read and talk about what they're reading communally becomes significant as a means of engaging these issues critically.

Traditional literary criticism of Romance, however, has not been particularly kind to the genre nor considerate of the idea that sexual violence has uses beyond mere escapism or sexual oppression. Similarly, clinical investigation of rape fantasies has not yielded many definitive conclusions. Nancy Friday has remained loyal to the idea that fantasies requiring submission relate back to our early stages of development in which we were powerless, contrasted with an overabundance of responsibility as adults that results in "a chance to relieve ourselves of all responsibility for the delicious, forbidden sex we crave" (Beyond My Control: Forbidden Fantasies in an Uncensored Age, 2009). The notion that these fantasies are taboo, that they exist at a nexus of desire, shame, and even guilt, is reflected in Stacy May Fowles insight that "[p]aradoxically, sexual submission and rape fantasy can only be acceptable in a culture that doesn't condone them… Many fantasies are taboo for precisely that reason – it's close to impossible to step beyond the notion that a man interested in domination is akin to a rapist or that if a woman submits, she is a helpless victim of rape culture" ("The Fantasy of Acceptable "Non-Consent': Why the Female Sexual Submissive Scares Us (and Why She Shouldn't)," from Yes means Yes! Visions of Female Sexual Power and A World Without Rape, eds. Jaclyn Friedman and Jessica Valenti, 2008). At the very least, the issue is emotionally fraught and intellectually polarizing.

Connected to this notion of taboo is the paradigm of "rape culture," where cultural representations of rape are extensive and women are held to a double standard of the innate temptress who must conform to particular benchmarks of chastity (i.e. modest dress and demeanor) to be deemed worthy of defense against sexual violation. (Jill Filipovic, "Offensive Feminism: The Conservative Gender Norms That Perpetuate Rape Culture, and How Feminists Can Fight Back," from Yes means Yes!). As Jaclyn Friedman and Jessica Valenti note, "So often it seems as if the discourse is focused solely on the "no means no' model – which, while of course useful, stops short of truly envisioning how suppressing female sexual agency is a key element of rape culture. . . . [W]omen are rarely taught how to say yes to sex," they argue, in part because the male subject stubbornly remains the central point of reference and power in regard to female sexuality. Consent is figured relative to the dominant male subject, not as an independent value that is self-affirming to female subjectivity and sexuality.

Even some Romance critics and readers have accepted this phallocentric model. Nina Philadelphoff-Puren insists that in Romance "a woman's capacity to make or refuse romantic agreements is contingent upon the way her actions are read by the master-reader of the story: the romance hero" ("Contextualising Consent: the Problem of Rape and Romance," 2005). Here, it is not the author or reader outside the book, most often a woman, who is the "master," but the male protagonist within the story who controls, even "legitimates" the heroine's choices/decisions.

Given the fact that recent research indicates upwards of 62% of women have had rape fantasies ("The Nature of Women's Rape Fantasies: An Analysis of Prevalence, Frequency, and Contents," Jenny Bivona and Joseph Critelli, 2009), it is depressing, to say the least, to think that we are simply acting out patriarchy's domination over our psychological and physical selves. The three "key elements" of the rape fantasy have been identified as "force, sex, and nonconsent" ("Women's Erotic Rape Fantasies: An Evaluation of Theory and Research," Joseph W. Critelli and Jenny M. Bivona, 2008). There is an ongoing debate in Romance-reading communities over whether a rape fantasy is the same thing as a "forced seduction," but for the purposes of this analysis I am collapsing any potential differences because the very label of "forced seduction" echoes at least two, and perhaps all three of the clinical elements of the rape fantasy.

Further, in both a personal rape fantasy and a forced seduction scene in a Romance novel, two levels of consent remain operable – that of the character playing out the role and the reader or fantasizer who lends a sort of meta-consent to the encounter. While the reader may or may not participate in such a direct way as someone actively creating a rape fantasy within their own imagination, she participates by giving or withholding consent to the rape scenarios and the overall success of the romantic pairing, which sometimes hinges on the acceptability of the forced sex.

This second level of consent (and enjoyment) muddies the question of whether other types of sexual violence in a book are rape fantasies, per se, but for the moment I am distinguishing between, say, a villainous character who attempts to rape the heroine in the absence of any desire or romantic possibility between them, and the hero's use of sexual force or coercion against the heroine. On the level of the narrative, these representations of force (and usually the villain's force is stopped by the hero, often at the very last minute) may both be forwarding the romantic bond between hero and heroine, but there is often a clear indication that it is only the hero who has a legitimate claim on the heroine's body, distinguishing the classic erotic rape fantasy from the aversive rape fantasy scenario that is not generally (or clinically) associated with erotic arousal ("Guided Imagery of Rape: Fantasy, Reality, and the Willing Victim Myth," Bond and Mosher, 1986).

The classic rape fantasy in Romance is that which many people still associate with the misnomer "bodice ripping." Take Christina Dodd's 1997 A Well-Pleasured Lady, in which Sebastian takes Mary's virginity against a wall, despite her repeated protests, which include hammering him over the head with a silver domed cover and boxing his ears. Despite her pleas of "Please. . . Don't. Don't do this. You hurt me more than I can possibly express," Sebastian insists that he is not hurting Mary, even declaring her tears to be "worth more than [her] maidenhead," as "gold to [him]." He tells her that he cares not what she feels, just that she reveals those feelings to him. Despite Mary's resistance, however, we are given numerous cues that we should not necessarily object on her behalf. Extensive descriptions of Mary's sexual arousal, erotic and emotional intimacy between them that has developed through the first part of the novel, and the reality that what Mary fears is not physical pain or force, but that Sebastian "forced her to feel too much." Her pleasure frightens her, echoing the idea that a woman like Mary must have the choice taken away from her, to be perfectly powerless, for her to be able to experience pleasure fully and recognize her own growing love for Sebastian.

Another common trope is the hero who cannot control his attraction to the heroine. This character is often larger than life, notorious for his sexual conquests and far beyond the heroine's expectations for a husband or sexual partner. In Sarah Craven's 2009 The Innocent's Surrender, hero Alex has been led to believe that heroine Natasha is sexually experienced and forward, making her coerced offer of marriage in exchange for cooperation on a business deal (her foster brothers basically sell her to business rival Alex) an excuse to take her harshly and against her "passive resistance." In a hasty apology he acknowledges "I hurt you, Natasha mou, but by the time I realized the truth, it was too late, and I regret that…My only excuse is that I wanted you very badly." Unbeknownst to the reader and the heroine, Alex saw Natasha several years ago at a party and decided then and there that she was the woman for him: "I was yours since that first night, Natasha, and you have always been mine. My woman, my wife, and the only love of my heart. Now, and for all time." Like Sebastian, Alex's sexual force is a byproduct of a deep emotional attraction to the heroine that he cannot control and must literally force on her, coercing her accept him sexually as a means of engaging her emotional loyalty and love.

Anna Campbell's Claiming the Courtesan, published in 2007, offers another version of this dynamic, when Justin, the dark, brooding, borderline over the edge hero, vows revenge on the courtesan who disappears at the very moment that Justin decides he will propose to her. Verity, of course, became a courtesan out of financial necessity, and her dream has been to live quietly and virtuously away from society and her alter ego Soroya. When he captures her and disregards Verity's admonition that "[a]nything you take, you take as a thief," he is determined that he will get her back any way he can, even if he has to use sexual force to remind her of their sexual bond.

Although it is often argued that Romance rape fantasies seek the comprehensive submission of the heroine to the hero's will and sexual appeal, that is not what Justin insists he wants from Verity; instead his "claim" on her is for an integrated woman, part Soroya and part Verity: "Soroya is you. Soroya's innate sensuality and sense of adventure are also yours. Verity is sweet and virtuous and Soroya is a woman who goes after what she wants without regret or fear. Those two women unite in you. Until you recognize that, you're no use to me or yourself." It is a perfectly ironic scenario: the hero forces himself on the heroine, violates her bodily privacy and autonomy, in order to catalyze her acceptance of her own powerful and passionate nature.

At a basic level, the myriad variations on these scenarios act as a relationship catalyst for the two protagonists. Whether the hero seeks revenge on the heroine for some imagined wrong, whether he seeks to bond her to him emotionally, whether he seeks her emotional submission, the ultimate happiness of the couple is never in question. Which, of course, is the basis for critique of this plot device as idealizing the sexual and social submission of women to men. That the heroine falls in love with the man who forces himself on her sexually violates the "rape" aspect of the rape fantasy, romanticizing sexual violence in a way that perpetuates the rape culture and female desire as passive and dependent (and research demonstrates that fantasies of sexual domination among men — but not women — are linked to real life sexual aggression ("Power, Desire, and Pleasure in Sexual Fantasies," Eileen L. Zurbriggen and Megan R. Yost, 2004).

Sharon Stockton has argued extensively and persuasively that the rape motif in 20th century literature functions to reaffirm the "mastery" of masculinity as an affirmative subjectivity (as opposed to the feminine as object, or in Lacanian terms, as lack). But the project fails, she argues, because "it is the "sadist'" himself who is in the position of the object-instrument. . . . Agency resides outside the duo of violator and victim, and the rapist himself subject to an external gaze and preexistent script" (The Economics of Fantasy: Rape in Twentieth-Century Literature2006,). In the case of the Romance rapist, that external gaze is that of the reader, most often the female reader, and it is ultimately her judgment to which the hero must submit. Whatever choice the heroine may have in regard to the hero (and as I said initially, this is a book by book analysis), the reader has the ultimate choice to accept or reject the hero's actions and the heroine's response.

Now if we accept the model of the female reader as passively accepting patriarchal standards of female submissiveness, the argument would flow in much the same direction as it does for critics like Radway. If, however, we posit the reader as active and engaged, as having the capacity to evaluate the repercussions of what she is reading, the dynamic shifts. It shifts more if we make the critical distinction between Romance heroine and Romance reader – namely that for the reader the rape scenario is a rape fantasy in which she may or may not choose to participate. The right to consent, to say yes instead of no, is ultimately hers. I should point out, as well, that in historical Romance, where these rape scenarios seem most common, the hero and heroine's relationship often represents a substantial social subversion (marriage for love as opposed to arranged unions, for example), giving the heroine much more freedom and authority than she might otherwise secure based on her economic or social standing.

Women are very aware of the unsafety of our physical selves – our persistent vulnerability to violence and violation. In Romance, though, sexual force more often than not rehabilitates the hero for respectful, loving, monogamy. The reader has the choice to vicariously experience that subversion of real life rape, to participate in the fantasy of the hero's ultimate suitability by consenting to what the heroine does not. Of course that also means that the reader can choose not to give her consent, to find the violation unacceptable, but in either case, the choice is hers. And it is a choice she is not afforded in real life rape or even in the context of the fictional narrative (in the position of the heroine).

One of the reasons this idea of reader consent appeals to me is that it preserves the ambiguity of the text itself while allowing the reader to solve the dilemma for herself through her own personal agency. Note that I am not suggesting that the reader is subjecting another woman, in the form of the heroine, to rape. Rather, I am proposing the idea that the sexual rape fantasy and the emotional fantasy of a sound, emotionally safe romantic relationship, can be subversive and empowering for the consenting reader.

If the key to sexually and politically liberating women from patriarchal double standards is teaching women to say yes when she means yes, then perhaps these Romance rapes can offer more than what the novel itself promises (which often conforms to a socially traditional domestic model). And even if some Romance novels participate in a regressive sexual agenda, the reader's critical engagement as the agent of consent (or withholder of consent) to a rape fantasy introduces yet another level of potential subversion and a potential shift from the perverse ideal of female sexuality as passive and reactive to that of affirmation and sexual satisfaction without shame.

Related posts:

1. The Reader and Consent
2. Read Enough Romances and Rape Is No Longer Rape
3. A Reader in the Middle

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My first sale, and I still don’t quite believe it

Just as Alcoholics Anonymous members have drunkologues that describe their descent into drinking and their recovery, writers have first sale stories.   Mine is-’a little embarrassing.   Too easy.   Though the romance market was much more open in the mid-80s, it still sounds too easy.   But sometimes, the universe smiles, and it did for me then.

As a kid, I was an obsessive reader, the kind with thick glasses and a flashlight under the blanket to read books at night.   But I can’t say that I dreamed of someday becoming a writer.   I grew up in the farm country of Western New York, with 140 inches of snow every winter and lots of cows.   Becoming a writer was simply beyond my imagination.

But I did have a good imagination.   During boring classes, I composed sagas in my head, with multiple characters, heroes, and yes, romance, history, and happy endings.   I read all kinds of popular fiction, as much as I could get my hands on.   And if I fantasized about how cool it would be to be a writer, I always meant a teller of tales.   But a writer?   Wasn’t going to happen. I’m slightly dysgraphic, which makes me a rather poor typist, and my handwriting is so bad it has been suggested that I should pursue a medical career.

Life happens.   I graduated with degrees in 18^th Century British Literature (because I loved to read) and industrial design (because I needed to earn a living.)   I lived in California and England before inertia took over in Maryland.   And one momentous day, I decided I needed to get a computer for my freelance design business to help with invoices and the occasional copy writing I did for clients.

And the world changed.   About two days after my SO taught me how to use the word processing program on my cool new Leading Edge computer, I realized that I’d found the perfect writing tool because once you fix something, IT STAYS FIXED!!!   (Cue the angels and golden trumpets!)

I’d been reading the hardcover Regency romances from the library, so when I started thinking about writing a story, what came to mind was a Regency romance.   History, Englishness, romance-’heaven!   I automatically went for a contrarian plot where the quiet Regency girl was more or less forced into a betrothal to the stereotypical Regency hero-’tall, dark, rich, and disdainful-’but instead she oozed off and found herself a guy she liked better.

So on the first day of spring, 1986, which was a Saturday, I started writing my story.   There was a lot I didn’t know about writing-’I’d never even tried dialogue.   But the story flowed nicely.   I thought it wasn’t bad.

A mutual friend kindly referred me to romance writer Lindsay McKenna, who very generously offered to look at the first chapter.   She sent the pages back with gold stars and Snoopy stickers, and offered to give me name of her old agent, who was fast, or her new agent, who was slow.

I said, "Give me the name of the fast one," and sent off my 88 pages to Ruth Cohen in California.   A week later she called and asked how long the book would be and when it would be done. I had no idea, but when she asked if I could do more stories, I was pretty sure that I could.   I followed Ruth’s editorial suggestions about showing motivation and tightening my leisurely Regency prose, and sent her the by now 119 pages.

A week later, Ruth called and said that Hilary Ross, the Regency editor at NAL, wanted to talk to me the next morning, and was I available between 10 and noon?   What????   Yes, I could find the time.   <g>   So Hilary called, and I thought she might say that the book looked promising, and she’d like to see the whole thing when it was done.

Instead, after talking to me (I later learned that she wanted to discern if I sounded like a Real Writer), she offered me a three book contract for Signet Regencies.

I have still not recovered from the shock of this.

That first book was published in November 1987 under the title THE DIABOLICAL BARON and became a RITA finalist.   Ruth was my agent for 19 happy years until she traitorously retired, and Hilary was my editor for almost as long.

And I had finally found what I wanted to do when I grew up.   I hurled myself into writing like a lemming over a cliff.   As it happens, being a freelance designer was perfect training because I was used to erratic cash flow and no benefits.

I haven’t stopped writing since.   Still telling tales of adventure, romance, usually history, and happily ever after.

Is this a great country or what???

Related posts:

1. REVIEW: Christmas Revels by Mary Jo Putney
2. REVIEW: The Marriage Spell by Mary Jo Putney
3. REVIEW: Petals in the Storm by Mary Jo Putney

Via BookDaze.

Related posts:

1. REVIEW: The Marriage Spell by Mary Jo Putney
2. REVIEW: Petals in the Storm by Mary Jo Putney
3. REVIEW: Christmas Revels by Mary Jo Putney

This collection, published by Jove in 2002, includes one original contemporary Christmas novella and reprints of four of your older novellas from the early 1990s. All but one were new to me when I picked up this book. Here are my opinions of each of the stories:

“A Holiday Fling”

This is the contemporary novella. It is set in England and featuring two side characters from your book The Spiral Path. Jenny Lyme is a British actress. Greg Marino is an American cinematographer. Many years earlier they worked on the same movie, and after Jenny’s then-boyfriend dumped her, she ended up in bed with Greg. Because she was still hurting from being dumped, it didn’t turn into a romantic relationship, but rather a long distance friendship.

Now, years later, Jenny needs Greg’s help. A video of a play she is directing and starring in needs a good cinematographer. The proceeds from the video will go toward saving the tithe barn that served as a community center for Jenny and her neighbors for many years. So she calls Greg and asks him to be her cinematographer during his Christmas holiday. Greg has always had a crush on Jenny, so he says yes.

More than that I won’t reveal, except to say that I really enjoyed this story, partly because unlike many contemporaries, it had a very contemporary feel. I also thought it was more romantic than either of the two of your contemporary full-length books that I’ve read, The Burning Point and The Spiral Path. The only thing that bothered me was the obligatory marriage proposal at the end, because it felt rushed. It would have been more modern for Jenny and Greg to live together for a while first.

My grade for “A Holiday Fling” is a B+.

“The Christmas Cuckoo”

This Regency-set story is about a case of mistaken identity. An army major named Jack Howard arrives at an inn drunk and soaking wet from the rain. Miss Lambert goes to the same place to pick up her brother’s best friend, a captain named Jack Howard. Of course she mistakes one Jack for another, and he is too drunk to correct her. Soon he finds himself in the home of a genteel family fallen on hard times, and enjoying the Christmas preparations very much. But what will happen when his identity is discovered?

Although amusing and smoothly written, this story wasn’t very involving for me, partly because the premise seemed too far-fetched, and partly because I didn’t really see why Meg and Jack fell in love. A problem I often have with romance novellas is that there isn’t much time or space for an author to show the hero and heroine’s feelings develop, especially when the novella only takes place over a few days. As a result, the romance can seem kind of slapdash to me, and that was the case here.

My grade for “The Christmas Cuckoo” is a C+.

“Sunshine for Christmas”

This novella is set in 19th century Italy and features Lord Randolph Lennox from The Rake (or The Rake and the Reformer). Randolph was Alys’s former suitor who had accidentally hurt her feelings and (compounded by her father’s actions) caused her to run away from home.

Now widowed, Randolph feels melancholy in winter time and decides to head for sunny Italy. He arrives in Naples, and soon meets Miss Elizabeth Walker, a governess who has lived in Naples for a number of years, and he convinces her to be his guide to all things Italian.

I enjoyed this story very much. It’s obvious that you have done your research about Italy, and I really enjoyed all the setting details you included. The only part I didn’t enjoy was the reference to The Rake. There was a little bit of a misunderstanding and a secret in this story, but since they weren’t dragged out, I didn’t mind them at all.

My grade for “Sunshine for Christmas” is an A-.

“The Christmas Tart”

This is another regency story. Nicole Chambord is a french emigrà©e and seamstress. She gets accused of a theft she didn’t commit, her lifetime savings are then confiscated, and she is thrown out on the street in London.

Philip Selbourne, the hero, has come to London to relax. Two of his friends decide to give him a woman for the night as a gift. They mistake Nicole for a prostitute and she agrees to sleep with him, for twenty pounds.

I won’t tell what happens next, but I enjoyed this story moderately. Nicole seemed a bit ditzy to me, but I liked Philip quite a bit. Again, this was another story where the hero and heroine only spent a day or two together before deciding to get married, and while it was a pleasant way to pass the time, I can’t say that this didn’t give me doubts about their future.

My grade for “The Christmas Tart” is a B-.

“The Black Beast of Belleterre”

A Beauty and the Beast story set in Victorian England, The Black Beast of Belleterre has a hero, James Falconer, who was born homely and was additionally disfigured by an injury. He wears a cowl to hide his face, and lives in solitude.

A man named Sir Edward Hawthorne borrows a substantial amount of money from him, and then can’t repay him. When he goes to confront Sir Hawthorne, he sees the man’s beautiful daughter Ariel from afar. Later he learns that Sir Hawthorne intends to wed his daughter to a pox-ridden old lecher in order to pay his creditors. Falconer offers for her instead, to marry in name only.

This is a lovely little story to anyone who is fond of the fairy tale it’s based on. It’s marred only by an overuse of the word “for” in its “because” meaning. At one point I counted three in a paragraph! But I enjoyed this story a lot, and along with “Sunshine for Christmas,” it’s among the best romance novellas I’ve read.

My grade for “The Black Beast of Belleterre” is an A-.

With the exception of one weak story, Christmas Revels is an enjoyable collection that showcases your writing in a variety of settings. I recommend it to anyone looking for a bit of romantic Christmas cheer. My overall grade for Christmas Revels is a strong B.

Sincerely,

Janine

Related posts:

1. REVIEW: The Marriage Spell by Mary Jo Putney
2. REVIEW: Petals in the Storm by Mary Jo Putney
3. REVIEW: Simply Love by Mary Balogh

This book has been mentioned as being one of the weakest of this series (the Fallen Angels) and I can see why. I found myself far more interested in Robin and Maggie’s relationship, and for that matter Helene and von Fehrenbach’s relationship, than in seeing Rafe and Maggie get back together. Heck, I was more interested in Rex the cat than Rafe.

Years ago Rafe and Maggie loved each other then a (stupid) misunderstanding parted them in anger. Now it’s thirteen years later and Rafe is a Duke of Slut who (for reasons never fully explained) is sent to post Napoleonic France for some diplomatic high jinx. And he’s suited for this because he sleeps with any woman? Whatever. There he sees his old love Maggie now known as Margot who is also a spy. Maggie is involved with Robin, another Fallen Angel, who is also a spy. Rafe acts like an oaf, believes more lies about Margot/Maggie until he finally sees the light. Now the two of them have to keep Europe from being plunged back into war.

I was very disappointed with the awkward style in which historical information was worked into the book, especially in the first chapter when Lucien was asking Rafe to go to Paris. Plus the whole scenario of Maggie and Rafe each exploding with passion by merely linking pinkies got old. And the ending was far too reminiscent of Dancing with all the running around. The bit with Wellington appearing and thanking them for saving the day was just too Junior G Men-ish on top of all that.

I thought Maggie a far more interesting character than Rafe and I do give you points for creating a strong woman with a past. And for giving her the strength to rise above what had happened to her. Rafe was just an insensitive clod who looked good. Give me Robin and Rex any day. A disappointing C- read overall.

~Jayne

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Nestled between Susan Elizabeth Phillips' Ain't She Sweet and Amanda Quick's Scandal on my bookshelf are ten of your novels and your novella collection Christmas Revels. It's been over sixteen years since the first of these paper-bound inhabitants settled into my library, and they have not been allowed to gather dust.

I'm a finicky and spoiled reader: only one romance author has written a greater number of books that I have kept, and truthfully, I've mostly held on to her books out of nostalgia. They sit there unread, peering at my well-thumbed-through copies of Petals in the Storm and Angel Rogue, Uncommon Vows and The Wild Child, Shattered Rainbows and One Perfect Rose and yellowing with time and envy. To say that your books are dearly beloved is both a bad pun and an understatement.

I begin my open letter this way in the hope that you will understand that my disappointment with your latest book, The Marriage Spell, is partly a function of my great appreciation for your 1990s works. It is not that The Marriage Spell is a bad book; in fact, my opinion is that it's better than average. It is just that I think some of your earlier books are very, very good, while this one is at best pretty good.

The Marriage Spell is set in an alternate Regency era in which some people are gifted with magical abilities. Jack Langdon is one such person, but unfortunately for him, he is also a boy and an aristocrat, and society is not tolerant of aristocratic males with magical abilities. Consequently, Jack is sent to Stonebridge Academy, a horrible school where boys have the magic disciplined out of them. There Jack befriends other boys who form a group and call themselves The Stone Saints (a sure sign of sequels, I'm thinking).

Twenty years later Jack falls off his horse while hunting and sustains serious injuries, including a broken neck. Abigail Barton, a gifted healer who is also a woman of good birth, lives nearby and Jack is brought to her home in the hope that she can save his life. Abby has longed for Jack from afar, but to heal him she will need to lead other wizards in a healing circle, a process which may kill her.

Jack's friends Ashby and Ransom offer the use of their own long-suppressed powers and ask her if there is anything that would make it worth her while to take such a dangerous risk. More to herself than to them, Abby muses that the possibility of marriage to Jack would be worth it, and almost before she knows it, Jack's friends obtain his agreement to marry her if she saves his life.

The healing circle is successful and when Jack regains consciousness he is grateful to be alive but less than thrilled to be engaged to a wizard. Nevertheless, he soon warms to Abby and when she tries to release him from their betrothal he refuses, partly out of a sense of obligation but partly out of a genuine liking for her. And so Abby and Jack marry and set off to face a prejudiced society which will disapprove of their union, Jack's fear of his own magical powers, and a confrontation with someone who is menacing Jack's childhood home.

As usual your writing voice has a period flavor that I enjoy, and your characters are wonderfully practical and self-deprecating. I never fail to feel warmth toward the characters I am supposed to like, and I love that you even make me feel a little pity for the villains. The mixture of history and fantasy is intriguing and since I like marriage of convenience stories, I am thoroughly entertained.

Nonetheless, a few things niggle at me.

The first is that Abby's magical abilities feel a little too conveniently wide-ranging, and using them doesn't take as much of a toll on her as I'd like it too. Yes, she looks tired after wielding her powers, but I don't truly feel her exhaustion when I read about it. This makes it harder for me to buy into the magic.

The second is that male friendships, at which you've traditionally excelled, aren't as developed here as they've been in some of your earlier books. After being introduced early on, Jack's friends Ransom and Lucas fade from the story, and only Ashby remains on the periphery. I am especially disappointed at Lucas' disappearance, because his antipathy to magic could have made his relationship with Jack fascinating once Jack began accepting his own magical powers.

The third, and most disappointing to me, is that many of the emotional conflicts the main characters face turn out to be rooted in enchantments that are easily dispelled.

What made many of your 1990s books so satisfying to me was that the characters had to learn to deal with inconvenient feelings, to shine a light on their own motivations and desires, to cope with loss and melancholy, to reach out to others despite their fears and vulnerabilities. Here they instead shine a light on feelings others magically planted within them, cope with the machinations of wizards or others who employ wizards, and solve their problems largely through casting enchantments of their own.

It's not that I'm unwilling to read about the fantastical (I adore books by Ursula K. Le Guin, Sharon Shinn, Naomi Novik, and C.S. Lewis); it is just that even in the fantasy and paranormal romance genres characters' emotions are far more compelling to me when they are based in real heartaches.

Ah, how I felt Lucien's sorrow over the death of his parents and twin sister in Dancing on the Wind. How I empathized with Michael when he fell in love with the married Catherine in Shattered Rainbows. How I wanted to see Robin consoled when Margot threw him over for Rafe in Petals in the Storm (I still think she made a mistake there, but that's for another letter).

Grief. Betrayal. Unrequited love. I want more of that. In other words, I want more angst. While reading The Marriage Spell I wanted Jack's aversion to Abby's abilities to run deeper, and to be a major obstacle to their happiness. Or for Jack's fear of his own powers to be rooted in something significant, such as knowing of others who let such powers corrupt them. Or for Lucas and Jack to be at odds, and for this to hurt both men.

I had fun reading The Marriage Spell, but its conflicts felt glossed over and too quickly resolved to me, so I give it a C+. It was an entertaining way to pass the time, and I’m not sorry I read it. But it could have been magical.

Sincerely,

Janine

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