All hail the wondrous things about Wisconsin. There are many. And not just the Packers and cheese. Evidence: The University of Wisconsin Milwaukee Library Nurse Romance Cover of the Week collection. Like nurse romance cover illustrations, with absurdly long, lithe, and monochromatic legs? This is your Mecca.
[Thanks to Mary for the link.]
Speaking of libraries, this Smithsonian magazine article about library special collections, which mentions the above Love Nurse Collection, is fascinating. (Also, I think “Tobacciana” would be a great name for a heroine set in a historical during US Colonial times.)
[Thanks to Katie for the link.]
In a step to the left, and a jump to the right, Nelson announced NelsonFree, which “allows readers to receive content in multiple formats—physical book, audiobook and e-book—without making multiple purchases. With NelsonFree, the price of the hardcover book includes both the audio download and the e-book.”
Two titles are included in the initial release.
Please note: to do the complete Time Warp with hands on hips, etc. more progress must be made. Pelvic thrusts, if you’re curious, would be DRM free releases from all major publishers.
[Thanks to B2 for the link.]
How’s your blood pressure today? Thanks to the many, many readers who forwarded this link to the CBC’s extensive examination of 60 years of Harlequin.
The article itself is pretty straightforward, particularly as it parallels the history of the company with the development of the women’s movement in the 60’s and the advent of feminism in the 70’s.
my favorite quote: “Like some sort of love-peddling drug dealer, the company often gives away free books, hoping to get readers hooked.” YES. YOU ARE THE CRACK DEALER OF LUUUUUUURVE™ Harlequin and you KNOW IT.
Medical advisement: Reading of the comments to this article is not recommended for anyone with high blood pressure, a sense of intellect, a healthy love of romance novels, or anyone who has difficulty not reaching through the monitor to commit felonious assault upon the mindless idiocy of others. Use as recommended. Some restrictions apply. Please consult your doctor if reading these comments causes a throbbing headache lasting more than four to six hours.
While we’re raising your blood pressure, here, have some more. In a New York Times article published 3 March, Dwight Garner questions whether “female novelists write about sex less often, and less skillfully, than men.” He bases his examination on a book by Jane Vandenburgh titled A Pocket History of Sex in the Twentieth Century wherein Ms. Vandenburgh greets the idea of women writing sex with a whole new can of whoopass.
“Most women don’t write about sex at all, and if they do, they don’t do it very well,” she intones. Ms. Vandenburgh breaks the sex writing of female novelists into two classic and derogatory subtextual categories: “I’m Actually a Lofty Virgin” and “I’m Really a Whore.”
She adds, in a sentence that made me smile: “Or women write all purplish or silly and blushing or get gothic or medieval or do it with Space Aliens or become all mannered, elaborate and Victorian, and all of this is just about equally irksome to me, and some of it makes me almost physically ill.”
Vandenburgh’s book is a memoir (natch) and as such details her own troublesome history with her self-identity and her sexuality. Not to demean her experience in the least, but I wish she’d stopped short of painting all female novelists with her own brush. I dislike the paint color considerably.
Certainly, as my source pointed out, “she raises interesting points about how, and in what contexts, women might feel more comfortable writing about sex, but it’s done in such a derisive way that instead of contemplating new and interesting ideas.”
I’d prefer more sex scenes with aliens, with or without manners, please.
[Thanks to rd for the link.]