Smart Bitches, Trashy Books

Okay, that was hilarious!  It’s as if the metaphors were put in a blender and pureed!  (Oh, dear—now I’m doing it.)

Wow. Just, wow.

This book has actually been published? There must be people who really like metaphors running amok. Well, I know of at least one other author who writes like that. Here’s a quote from Lilith Saintcrow’s Night Shift:

My pulse beat high and thin in my throat. A sharp bloody noise trembled on my lips, burst free, and echoed like the voice of a bird battering at the side of a cage.
An iron cage, with horsehair cushions and old rusty stains crusting the elaborate scrollwork, while sick remembered pain roiled thorugh my nerves and the scar puckered and prickled, tingling.

Needless to say, I hated that book.

This gem sounds like it was written on a bet.

Okay, in that last blurb, I’m going with the metaphorical flow, when I am figuratively stopped dead in my tracks:  “....like slamming the door on an annoying salesman.  That is always how she saw him.”  Like an annoying salesman?  Dude, not so romantic.  I’m sure the author meant for you to get in the Way Back Machine and travel to the beginning of that sentence where Dusty strutted like he owned the place, but my short-term memory can only hold so much.

It sounds to me as if the author used some sort of romance book computer generator to write the book. From the examples given and if it continued that way, if that book was a drinking game you’d have been under the table and passed out cold in the first chapter.

I’m going to be thinking of ways to insert poignant moats into my conversations all day.  Thank you.

Honestly, I found “Honey Hole” to be the least obnoxious part of that particular paragraph.

Well, this passage certainly opened the safe of my funny bone, a steel door in which clowns drive tiny cars and monkeys, like petals, float gently into the poignant moat of my imagination.

I’m glad you stopped reading, though, because I really don’t want to know what else they were calling the “Honey Hole.”

The way her breasts were described lost me. Ewww…is this a real book, Sarah? Or are you pulling an early April Fool’s trick on us?

The instant I read the title, I just knew, knew, KNEW the hero would be named Dusty Roads.  (I thought it would be spelled Rhodes, though.) 
And how can a moat be “poignant”?  Does it have sharp edges that inhibit one’s ability to climb out?  It sounds as though the author has taken a correspondence course from the HP Lovecraft School of Purple Prose.

Is the Honey Hole at all affiliated with the Duck Shack? Under the same management, perhaps?

That writing took my mind on a trip, not unlike the long trips taken by gypsy caravans in under the heat of a blazing Transylvania sun, where the werewolves of bitter memories sprang from behind every bush and sucked my heart dry, like a vampire’s kiss. I was cast, helplessly, into the ocean of forbidden remembrance of the purple prose of days past, when the men all had throbbing silken shafts instead of penises and the women all had slick folds instead of vaginae, and wherein the simultaneous crest of their love always peaked like a glorious explosion, leaving them breathless, with the heroine in love with the mighty Sioux Brave, Bringer-of-Thunderous-Orgasms, while he continued to fight his attraction and love for the Swedish American heroine with violet eyes and spun-gold hair, Rayleenah Evervirginsnatch.

I am utterly and shockingly speechless, like a person suddenly asked to open their heart safe and let memories flow into a poignant moat….

This novella would be exhausting.  Was he getting paid by the word?

Mary

“Her large breasts floated on the water, the wrinkled, brown, quarter-sized areolas visible through the sheer lace bra.”

Since she is skinny-dipping, not “floating on her back,” I have to assume this is a pair she carried with her; that the areolae are “wrinkled” despite not possibly being in the water themselves only confirms that impression.

captcha:  trying69, which I suppose would explain part of the contortions necessary for the quoted sentence to be true.

Not… enough… coffee… garghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…

I *DO* believe someone took the whole Bulwar-Lytton thing waaaaay to far, but not stopping at the first sentence, continuing on like an impatient driver blowing a stop sign like a ten dollar hooker with a crack habit as heavy as a pregnant sperm whale who’d gotten separated from her pod and was being hunted by that crazy guy from Jaws, not the Richard Dreyfus character who was at least as amusing as Bill Murray was back when Saturday Night Live was still funny.

I almost have to buy this.

Forget Prozac. This would brighten anyone’s day.

This is beating the shiek’s lizard (ew) by a mile, in my book.

Wow ... I wouldn’t have gotten past their names in the blurb, let alone attempt to read any of it.

Though if a dude called Dusty Roads can end up as a hero in this book, there’s still hope for my one SFR guy. Don’t feel so bad now giving a character a screwball name.

And what 16 year old has overly wrinkled areolas? Makes no sense… (screwy names and young-old wrinkly boobs seem to have caused my brain to grind to a halt now)

It is really quite hard to believe that the opening sentences were not written as intentional parody.  Of course the excerpts are entertaining, in their overwrought way, as are many of the witty posts above, but it is also rather sad to reflect that many infinitely better writers have tried to get published, and have failed.

I think my brain is refusing to hold on to what I just read, for fear of permanent scarring. My family had a horse named Dusty Roads ...

Oh god, this brought back memories of a romance I read in high school (one of my first romances ever, actually) called Salty & Felicia. The heroine’s name was Felicia, and the hero’s name, of course, was Salty. I think I even remember her exclaiming at one point during their lovemaking “Oh, Salty!”

Tee hee.

“Her large breasts floated on the water, the wrinkled, brown, quarter-sized areolas visible through the sheer lace bra.”

Is this a girl or a floational device?

To be fair, even the heroine, as pictured on the cover, appears to be amazed by the abilities her breasts possess.

We’re invited to stare at a 16-year-old’s boobs? Eww. And, definitely written by a guy.

Hah! Verification: “wrote16”  Verification android knows all, like an alien god peering down at the world he created on a whim after a really rough bender that left him with a headache so severe it was as if two black holes had taken up space in his brain and were expanding, expanding, evermore expanding until his head literally exploded.

Thank you. This is the just the pick me up I needed on a Monday. Like an atom bomb of WTF-ery it exploded on my computer screen, its mushroom cloud of crazy floating down from the heavens.

To be fair, even the heroine, as pictured on the cover, appears to be amazed by the abilities her breasts possess.

Perhaps she’s wondering what happened to the large, floaty ones.  Or perhaps those were falsies and they floated away one day as she swam in the “Honey Hole”.

It is a bit disturbing, though, that the couple on the cover appear to be severely (ie, feloniously) mismatched in age.  She could be the little sister of the guy pictured there.  She looks like a 14-year old, dressed for a school dance.

Reminds me of the lovely descriptions of Bronwyn in Ron Miller’s Silk and Steel:

http://sirvalence.livejournal.com/392701.html

I first read that last one as a charging bull, and therefore pictured him snapping the neck of a bull, which would be quite a feat.  Then I read your comments below it and had to go back and see where the dog was. Too much work for me to get through all those metaphors. Waves of exhaustion settled upon me like dust motes floating on a summer breeze.

Capcha - book85 - I can think of 85 books that are better than this one; in fact, I probably have that many stacked next to my bed.

Why, why would you want to snap a dog’s neck? That is horrific. The rest of the excerpts were amusing (probably not intentionally), but that made me physically ill. Not metaphorically; my stomach is actually upset now.

“the wrinkled, brown, quarter-sized areolas”. 

this is more description than I ever what about a woman’s breasts.  and wrinkled is so no the best word to use in this case.  this is why authors are so fond of “puckered” people!  but really, did we need the specs on her boobs?  Talk about not leaving anything to the imagination.

All I can think of is this vid. Apparently this guy *really* digs a metaphor.

Yuck.  Not even I want to fling myself on this.

@janet:

Hah! Verification: “wrote16”  Verification android knows all, like an alien god peering down at the world he created on a whim after a really rough bender that left him with a headache so severe it was as if two black holes had taken up space in his brain and were expanding, expanding, evermore expanding until his head literally exploded.

Now, that sounds like you’re channeling Douglas Adams. WTG!!! Our author should read and learn from a master.

economic78: Yeah, our economy really sucked back then, too.

Really, except for the fact that you’ve already given up on it, this thing cries, nay, screams the scream of a rabbit caught by a hawk on a moonlit night swooping through pine-scented moonlit valleys, to be liveblog-read.

But “Honey Barnes”?  Pffst.  Author’s not trying.  “Honey Beaz”, “Honey Baddgher”, “Honey Behr”, “Honey Potts”—these are worthy names.

changes75:  This needs considerably more than 75 changes to be readable!

Wow. After reading the first excerpt, I finally truly understood the utility of this emoticon: O_o

costs98: This book better not cost more than 98 cents.

“Poignant moat” is going to be my new band name!

And no, I don’t need a mental image of a 16-year olds areolas, wrinkled or not! 

I have to say my favorite part is the title. I mean, bad name puns in titles are sadly commonplace in romance novels, but really, Walking Dusty Roads sounds like she is taking her dog out for a walk once you know it is his name.

Just…no.

I cannot believe I am the only one who thought of this dude.
“Cowboy work ethic” made me snort blackberry yogurt too. The title should be “Riding” Dusty Roads and then whoa, watch those metaphors swim in the er, Honey Hole.

Now, that’s the sort of writing (your review, not, god forbid, the book) that keeps me returning to this site. Thanks for the laughs!

From the sounds of it, Sarah, you need a new grade which takes the review scale another step beyond “Did Not Finish”.  How about “Barely Started, Threw Across Room Disgustedly”?

From the sounds of it, Sarah, you need a new grade which takes the review scale another step beyond “Did Not Finish”.  How about “Barely Started, Threw Across Room Disgustedly”?

You mean: BS-TARD?

This whole column winz the webz today lol!

I kept thinking, from the excerpts, that they were possibly trying to sell a yeast infection cream? Or maybe it just made me feel as icky as if I needed such a treatment.

The Honey Hole really jerked at my gag reflex like the thick stench of rancid six day old tuna salad whose fishy rankness clogs the back of your throat and makes your eyes tear up faster than peeling a firm juicy onion.

captcha “bad19”=that was 19 kinds of bad.

I was laughing so hard I was weeping, and could not read the comments all in one go, due to the tears of mirth and snot of joy that was flowing freely down my face.

I love you ladies (and possibly a few gents.). Your wit and sarcasm win at the intarwebs every day.

The Honey Hole really jerked at my gag reflex like the thick stench of rancid six day old tuna salad whose fishy rankness clogs the back of your throat and makes your eyes tear up faster than peeling a firm juicy onion.

Ha!

The first excerpt made me cross-eyed trying to wade through all those metaphors, and the “Honey Hole” part made me feel dirty by giving me the mental image of a 16 year old girl in wet, sheer underwear.

And, Jordan Lake is a real place! You can actually go there and let your wrinkled brown, quarter-sized areolas float free.
Verisimilitude is the bromeliad plant that harbors myriad tiny metaphors like mosquito larvae in its mysterious, piongnant depths. In the rainforest of the heart.

Not only is Jordan Lake a real place, it’s right next to 1.5 million people in the Triangle area (Chapel Hill, Raleigh, Durham) in North Carolina.  Lots of people camp and hike there (and hunt in parts) so I’m not sure I want my areolas floating free.  ;P

And there are in fact, at least 2 power plants near the southern end of Jordan lake, one being a nuclear power plant.  (They also are currently belated installing a small hydroelectric turbine at the dam at the end of Jordan lake.)  The nuclear plant is on Harris Lake, not Jordan, but you can see the plant from it’s southern tip.

One would assume the crisis is some sort of nuclear one??? (Not that I’ll be reading it either to find out. The idea of any cowboy in this area of the country, let alone one named Dusty Roads makes my brain hurt.)

I’ll take a guess the author is somewhere from the triangle area.  Or maybe passed through it once.  Gets a D for research, I guess. ;p

I’ll take a guess the author is somewhere from the triangle area.  Or maybe passed through it once.

Or maybe is a CP&L employee? I could say something about a turbine-ralated areola accident, but I’ll refrain. It would be in poor taste.

Thanks for today’s entertainment!!! ;-D

The writing reminds me of an old fanfiction of mine. People who read it thought it was good. Bah, not the most discerning tastes. And it also reminds me of other fanfiction I’ve read. Purple prose, definitely.

@Amy:

I’ll take a guess the author is somewhere from the triangle area.  Or maybe passed through it once.  Gets a D for research, I guess. ;p

Well, they do say, “write what you know”.

Not to thread jack, but does Jordan Lake have anything to do with one Michael Jordan who attended UNC, once upon a time? I don’t know anything about the lake, but from your description, I assume its a TVA reservoir?

I used to work for a company that had an office in RTP, and spent quite a bit of time there some years ago. Nothing to do in the evenings but explore. I love Chapel Hill. Wonderful little UBS’s stuck in odd corners. The whole area’s just beautiful, floating areolas not included.

Dusty’s smile could stop a charging pit bull in its tracks. And if that didn’t work, his hands were big and strong enough to snap its neck like a chicken’s.

OMG..I could not stop laughing….how in the hell is this suppose to be romantic/attractive or anything? I can’t believe this shit got published.

You know, I think even Joan Wilder wrote better for Angelina and Jesse.

If you look at the Amazon.com page for this book, you will see that the one reviewer so far gives it five stars, and is particularly enchanted by the wonderfulness of the language.  So there is evidently an eager market out there for vast, teetering heaps of superimposed metaphors.

Either that or the 5-star reviewer was the author himself…

I wish I’d found this review yesterday instead of now. It’s very early in the morning here, and I haven’t had sufficient wake-up time to be able to cope with the overabundance of metaphors and purpleness. It may affect my writing for the day.

I wonder what my editor would think if I described my heroine’s areolae as “brown and wrinkled”?

Well, just no.  I can’t even.

You know there was some bad porn in there though if you’d have continued.  Lots of gushing silken rivers like heated South American rain forests with monkeys screaming and piranhas biting.  The sexual metaphors alone might - might - be worth the price of admission.

Ow.  Ow.  Ow.

Finished or not, you should get hazardous duty pay for this one.

And this, boys and girls, is why some folks turn up their noses at romance….

Not to thread jack, but does Jordan Lake have anything to do with one Michael Jordan who attended UNC, once upon a time? I don’t know anything about the lake, but from your description, I assume its a TVA reservoir?

Nope, it’s named after Senator B. Everett Jordan, the guy who actually got it’s construction through Congress.  It was meant both as a wildlife/fishing preserve and flood control.  The turbine was a complete afterthought, and I’m not sure that it’s really economically viable given how long they took to install it. ;)

The whole area’s just beautiful, floating areolas not included.

LOL - it is beautiful.  Lots of people and growing, but growth has been managed and planned reasonably well.  Lots of parks and greenways still abound and of course, there’s always Jordan Lake.  *grin*

I am late to the party on this but this excerpt had me dying!!

“Dusty took her in like a vista, her full, round breasts straining for freedom like corralled wild horses.”
http://www.extasybooks.com/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=ebook_flypage&product_id=8886&category_id=31&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=50

How on earth does this crap get published???

Image word: needed92 Someone needed 92 more brain cells to haul this off to the slush pile.

I kept reading that as “pregnant moat”.

Karin, don’t feel bad.  I kept reading it as ‘pregnant moat’ as well.

Metaphore abuse, like thesauraus abuse, should be banned.  Just as it is possible to so drown your writing in urple it starts creeping into the ultra-violet spectrum, it’s possible to include so many metaphores that no one has any idea what you’re trying to say. With judicious use, they can actually help make the story clearer to the reader.

And then there’s this twit, who never uses one word where half-a-dozen (or more) will suffice.  It’s like being strangeled by a Kunzu vine (albeit a metaphorical one).