Do you giggle at the fact that Wednesday is called “Hump Day?” Like it’s an invitation to get down, get funky, get it on till a few hours prior to sunrise? Get humpin! And, if your house is alongside one of those “Speed Hump” signs in my neighborhood, you know how fast (or slow) you have to go, too. Win for all!
Alas, if you’re not humpin’, you can have some links to tide you over until humperating returns.
From Gemma & Lisa, 15th Century Peasant Romance Comics from Hark! A Vagrant. I’m particularly partial to the first one. Pass the Scope, please.
From Kimberly Van Meter, the the HuffPo collection of supremely creepy children’s books. I confess that I very nearly ordered The Long Journey of Mister Poop (bilingual edition!) for Hubby, but restrained myself. Barely.
From Rachel Kramer Bussel, Kevin Roose from TheGloss was challenged to read a few romance novels and arrived at some conclusions as to how romance novels might suggest ways to make him hotter to the opposite sex:
Nothing feels as good as hot looks.
The romance novel, like the porn movie, is composed of Platonic physical ideals. Every guy is tall, dark, and well-hung, every bra is a lacy DD, and all sexual chemistry is immediate and overwhelming. This manic physical atmosphere overrides all other plot elements – fairly frequently, the authors will interrupt a bit of serious dialogue to tell us that “her nipples went hard” or “he felt his knob throbbing in his pants.”
In romance novels, this sexual tension is what allows for the characters’ emotional growth – Grace McKenna’s rack, not her equipoise, is what makes Julian Salvatore open up. And in the books’ final chapters, when the couples live happily ever after, it’s not because they’ve gone on Lexapro or had a therapist sift through their Freudian hangups. It’s because they’ve had some really good sex.
So, after putting down the last romance novel, I decided not to work on my emotional vulnerability after all. Instead, I’m working on my obliques. If I do enough crunches, maybe I’ll be hot enough for a woman to want to melt my cold, cold heart.
On one hand, is it ever going to get old, the whole “judge the whole genre by three random books” thing? On the other hand, yes, sometimes the descriptions of sex are ridiculous and yes, sometimes the metaphors fall down and trip on themselves while they do so, because they’re dancing on the stairs carrying the weight of their own wordcount.
Does it smart to have someone make sweeping pronouncements about the genre based on three books? Yup. Have I drawn the same conclusions about specific romances after reading many, many more? Oh, yes yes yes. (Have I read these particular books? No – but I know Singh’s books, based on the Angels’ Blood series, are fan-freaking-awesome, so my mileage has most definitely varied from Mr. Roose’s.) I do have to say, though, that while the presumption of his suitability is particularly grating – yes, only those with no sense of style, snobbery and literary sense can appreciate thooooooose books, so let’s send some to the plebian lowbrow dude, right? – he gets a begrudging snort from me for looking at both the parts that bugged him and the parts that he liked.
Mostly, I really want to email Kevin Roose and ask him what his favorite books are, so I can try to recommend a romance he’d really enjoy – and see what he learns from that one.
Finally, Dawn sends over this link – which I totally almost miss in the morass of OMGWTF that is my inbox right now: Nora Roberts’ Vision in White game is out and available for download. The free demo is an hour long, and the full version is $6.99.
Anyone tried it? What’d you think?