C-
Title: Dark Lover
Author: J.R. Ward
Publication Info: Signet 2005
ISBN: 0451216954
Genre: Paranormal
No. For the love of everything Alicia Silverstone, no.
And this particularly choice turn of phrase always kills me when I look at the first page: “advanced degrees in violent crime.”
Pray tell, sirrah: Where, perchance, may I obtain an advanced degree in violent crime? No, before we even address that burning question: what would an advanced degree look like? Would an MFA be a Masters in Fuckin’ yo Ass (up)? Can you get PhD’s in, say, Violating Your Parole Like A Dumbshit, or Roid Rage (with specializations in Pointless Property Damage or Kicking The Crap Out of Your Girlfriend), or Mini-Mart Robbery Gone Bad?
And I won’t even go into the names, because really, that’s like shooting fhish in a bharrehl.
For these reasons and more, I avoided reading the book. Look, I told myself, if a book can give me about three hours’ worth of riffing material from the first two pages alone, will I be able to get my internal smart-ass to shut up enough to allow me to read through the goddamn thing?
The answer, surprisingly, was “yes.” Dark Lover is nothing if not compelling. It’s also, well, crap. Hooray for compelling crap. We loves us some compelling crap over here in Smart Bitch Central. The grade is essentially an average of my enjoyment (about a B-) and the writing (D throughout, verging on D- in spots). But but but! Ward deserves daps for the Mary Sue joke towards the end of the book. It single-handedly saved this from falling over in to the dreaded D territory.
Do I really need to summarize the story for you? Have you really lived under a rock for the past two years? Because I’m pretty goddamn sure I’m the last person to have succumbed to the lure of the giant homoerotic rapper wannabe clusterfuck tastiness that is the Black Dagger Brotherhood. But just in case you are one of the few, the proud, the hermetically sealed from pop culture (or at least romance-related pop culture), here’s the skinny. Yo. It be off the chain.
Wrath is the King of the vampires—and the last pure-blooded vampire around, incidentally. And he has all sorts of issues about leading His Race
to the glory of the Third Reich
, as well as massive issues about love and intimacy; that, combined with his monstrous cock, short temper and predilection for killing bad guys (in this book, you know they’re teh ebil because they smell like baby powder and can’t get boners) basically makes him classic romance novel hero material. When one of his warriors, Darius, asks him to ensure his half-vampire daughter, Beth, completes her difficult and dangerous transition into full vampirehood safely, Wrath refuses.
Then Darius gets blown into itty-bitty bits by a car bomb. And Wrath, wracked with guilt, goes to check out Beth’s situation, and finds that while he’s completely reluctant to help her, nothing can prevent a Monster Cock from uniting with a Magic Hoo Hoo. It’s like when an irresistible force meets an immovable object, except with more improbable orgasms and body fluids. And behold, within a couple of weeks, he resolves pretty much all his issues about love, intimacy and his hesitations about leading his race (part of which involves purging the world of a subhuman species that’s in league with a Satanic figure and engaged in a world-wide conspiracy to destroy his people).
And then there are the rest of his Brothers. Not real brothers. And not actual brothers either, if you know what I mean, despite their love of Ludacris. His fellow brothers-who-look-as-if-they-possess-advanced-degrees-in-violent-crime-except-they’re-really-killers. The Black Dagger Brotherhood. All of them will get their own stories and Magic Hoo Hoos, of course. The sequel baiting is shameless, as is the dangling of hot, tormented vampiric types. And then there’s the poor schmuck of a cop with absolutely no life who gets sucked into their world as well—but then Sarah wrote a hilarious and brilliant review of his story here.
Oh, and in the midst of all that is a heroine. That’s right. These are heterosexual love stories—nominally, at least. Beth starts out rather interesting, but devolves into a rather bland Mary Sue type by the end of the story, with all the Brothers fawning over her awesomeness. Remember what the more saccharine Julie Garwood heroines were like? Yeah, kind of like that, except with more pointless angst and less charming ditziness.
Like I said, I enjoyed the book a surprising amount, considering a) how terrible the prose was (which isn’t necessarily a deal-breaker—as always, I like point to my love of Gaelen Foley and Dara Joy as evidence that I don’t need scintillating prose to love a book) and b) how repulsive I found the characters. The story had an energy and drive that made me turn the pages, even though I knew exactly how everything was going to turn out.
But the characters…oy. To be frank, the Brotherhood didn’t come across as tough; they came across as really, really young, and trying much too hard. Guys who are that painstaking about appearing like hard-asses make me think of small-time drug dealers, or teenage boys showing off they cribs. (“It’s Delux, son! Delux. S’not that hard.” Heeee.) The contrived thug-speak and references to hip-hop did not help this image, feel me? Unlike Sarah, I had no problem picturing what race they were. The impression I got from the story was they were old Eastern European aristocracy, so the dudes were white, white, white in my head, and the way they spoke like unholy Valley Girl/gangsta rapper hybrids circa 1992 just compounded the hilariousness.
Less hilariously: The way in which the struggles the vampires faced was couched in racial terms made me feel squidgy inside, and not in a good way. You may have gathered this from the review. It’s not that I think the vampires are unjustified in killing off the lessers, it’s just that when bad guys are portrayed in that bad a light—as being somehow inherently evil when, frankly, the good guys come across as more creepy in some ways (the Scribe Virgin made my anti-authoritarian hackles stand up like whoa and like damn)—I can’t help but wonder what their side of the story is, as told by a differently-biased narrator. That kind of good race/bad race rhetoric and the obsession with bloodlines and pure blood being “stronger” than unpure blood…squidgy, squidgy, squidgy. For this reason, Tolkien and much of high fantasy in general makes me cringe, too. I mean, I get that the whole “born a king” concept taps into a lot of powerful fantasies, and let’s face it, autonomous democratic collectives based on consensus and merit just aren’t sexy, but sometimes, I just look at the framework of the world and go “Huh.” It’s not that I think these are somehow inherently racist portrayals, but the Othering mechanisms in these sorts of narratives are really, really fascinating, no? Especially the voluntary impotence of the Lessers vs. the overbearing virility of the Brotherhood.
Somebody needs to write a dissertation on the multifarious ways fertility issues are presented and worked out in romance novels. So much fodder for delicious, delicious deconstruction and analysis.
Oh, and speaking of the Scribe Virgin: man, she is one creepy-ass motherfucker. Holy shit. Screw the Omega. The Scribe Virgin is the one to look out for. I kept picturing a combination of Sadako and the Blair Witch every time she was described, only more glowy. Sarah said she picturd Orko, which is, like, leaps and bounds more awesome than the image I had in my head.
But like I said: the book was compelling. All that roaring, and rippling muscularity (Wrath’s abs are likened to smuggled paint rollers at one point, which: HEE. LA. RI. TY.), and angsty toothsome goodness was good, campy fun. I laughed, I cringed, I wanted to smack some of the characters around, but dammit, I turned those pages. I finished that book in two days, which is unheard-of nowadays for me.
So for those of you who haven’t read this book yet: everybody else loves it. And I mean everyone. Odds are high you’ll love it, too. If, on the other hand, you’ve found that your tastes correlate with mine a lot more closely: approach with caution and a finely-honed sense of high camp, because you’ll need it.
Why isn’t one brother locked in his room listening to opera and telling those other mf’s to turn that not-even-music shit DOWN, for god’s sake?
For the record, I was writing that from the perspective of someone who’s listened to opera their whole lives. Which is the point. These guys could only have started listening to hard-core rap sometime in the last, oh, twenty years, if you want to be generous. That’s about 3% of their years on earth. They were all instant converts, dropping every other musical influence once they heard the magic of 50 cent? Bullshit.
I’ve got nothing against rap. I’m amazed by the art of some of the lyrics. I’ve got hip-hop cds in my car at this very moment. But my white, fifty-year-old husband does not. He listens to lots of Dylan. Just saying.
I read the review and all the comments over several sittings, so I apologize if this has already been explained and I’m just forgetting.
Is there any explanation given in the books (or by the author outside the books) for why she puts in those extra h’s? One of my reasons for not reading these is that krieaytivh spellings are a pet peeve of mine. But if there’s an actual reason for them perhaps I can ignore the funky spelling enough to try reading one of the books.
Yep.
Nope.
Shoot, I’m kind of irritated now by the idea that my objection to the music in the brotherhood series is due to an anti-rap bias. So here I am again.
My point. Again.: Why am I, a thirty-five-year-old white woman who lives in the suburbs, still driving around the mean streets of my resort town listening to rap music? Because the very first cassette tape (*snicker*) I ever bought was LL Cool J’s Radio. We are heavily influenced by our youth. Rap is my nostalgia, and it still influences my taste in new music. For the brotherhood? Where the hell are their influences??? They’re missing.
Rock the Bells, bitches.
I was reading Ward’s message board a while ago and someone asked if any of the brothers was going to end up with someone who isn’t white. Ward’s answer was something to the effect “I don’t know. They choose their own mates.†Which of course means no.
If someone, anyone, says “I don’t know,” why would you assume they mean anything beyond “I don’t know”? Many writers claim that ideas come to them out of the blue, some say they are surprised by the directions taken by their characters. Patricia Cornwell admitted that she had no idea who the killer was until the end of one book when Kay Scarpetta opened her front door and there he was.
I have never understood how readers can state with such certainty that an author’s answer cannot possibly be what it is. And the frequency with which that happens is astonishing. We can make any scientific wild guesses we like about an author’s motives or intentions, but to state unequivocally that “I don’t know” “of course means no” is not valid.
Why isn’t one brother locked in his room listening to opera and telling those other mf’s to turn that not-even-music shit DOWN, for god’s sake?
Apparently, Phury, whose book is due next, loves classical music and dislikes the others’ musical selections, if that helps.
Is there any explanation given in the books (or by the author outside the books) for why she puts in those extra h’s?
I think these words, the ones in the glossary, are from the vampire’s Old Language or are supposed to represent it. Their rituals and prayers are spoken in that language. For myself, I’m just glad it’s not Klingon.
“Rock the Bells, bitches.”
This line alone makes me like you Victoria.
BEGIN QUOTE Shoot, I’m kind of irritated now by the idea that my objection to the music in the brotherhood series is due to an anti-rap bias. So here I am again END QUOTE
Victoria, I wasnt calling you out. I was generally referring to the tone of the posts on this thread. And I maintain that there seems to be an anti-rap anti-hip hop tone on this thread. Whether the posters of those comments intended it or not it came across that way. While I can understand now that the commenters where referring to unease with a dissonance between the music featured in the story and the lives that the Brothers live as characterized by Ward. The comments only slightly dealt with that unease and rather focused on how lame rap is and past a certain age listening to hip hop and rap demonstrates a lack of maturity or taste. Again, I would put forth that this is the same type of snobbery that folks on this site rail against. Was pointing it out. But perhaps it just goes to show that on the Interwebs things dont sound as we mean them to.
Fascinating music discussion. You learn something new everyday.
Also, I dont remember where exactly but one brother (Vishous i believe) said that he was hooked into classical music but heard this one (rap, gangster, whatever) song by a certain artist and that hooked him.
Victoria, I wasnt calling you out. I was generally referring to the tone of the posts on this thread.
Well, I’m glad I didn’t challenge you to a freestyle battle then. *g* I probably reacted because I felt guilty about implying that rap wasn’t really music. I was role-playing, I swear!
And thanks, Melissa. *snort* I have this long-standing problem… Every time I see a woman wearing really long, dangly earrings I have the urge to say, “You’re jingling, baby.” Sometimes I can’t resist. Except that I live in Utah and no one knows what the hell I’m talking about. I like to think it adds to my adorably quirky mystique. Ha!
Trumystique: I, also, don’t have anything against hip hop and rap per se—but I do think Ludacris, 50 cent et al are shitty, shitty, shitty. Catchy, for sure. But shitty. I probably didn’t emphasize the fact that it was the specific artists mentioned in the novel and the incongruity between the music and the characters that got on my nerves, and not the genre per se. Jurassic 5 are legitimately excellent, in my opinion (though a very different sound/feel than gangsta), and Devin the Dude gets a more mixed reaction from me but I think he’s sharp and hilarious regardless. (And that about exhausts my hip hop/rap repertoire, because I’m more an indie/electronica/funk/soul/rock/classical girl myself.)
Speaking of music: do y’all remember how Nora Roberts used to refer to Cream pretty consistently in her books about, ohhh, 7 or 8 years ago? (She might still, for all I know; I haven’t read any La Nora in a long, long time.) I remember some hilarious threads on AAR about how incongruous that came across, and a lot of good-natured ribbing about WHY OH WHY CREAM FERGODSAKES? (For the record: love Cream. “Tales of Brave Ulysses” is one of my all-time favorite songs. But having the characters lovin’ on Cream in a few novels in a row struck a weird note, and other people felt the same.)
The conclusion here is: Some romance readers are music nerds and are well-nigh impossible to please.
Stephanie: I explained how I got my grade—the C- is an average of how much I liked it vs. how good I thought it was (which is generally how I tend to grade my books; however, there is usually a closer congruence between “enjoyed” and “thought it was actually any good”). I liked it just fine, and I have the rest of the series TBR, but I’m not in any rush to read them. It wasn’t really heroin for me. Maybe more like Vicodin. It induced interesting sensations, but it made me barf when I tried to move, so in all, not something I’m eager to use recreationally, and when I do have to use it, I take about 1/3 the prescribed dose.
Is there any explanation given in the books (or by the author outside the books) for why she puts in those extra h’s?
I seem to recall reading somewhere, either in a book or in an interview, that the English words of “fury” and “vengeance” and “fearsome”, etc, were derived from the vampire’s language rather than vice versa, taking English words and tossing in a few extra letters. This was meant to explain the familiar words and similar meanings, but funky spellings.
I could be misremembering, though. Either way, it doesn’t really work for me, and it’s far too easy to riff on, so it’s not a direction I’d personally go as an author. But JR Ward is definitely making more money than me so who’s to say I’m not the one who’s totally off-base?
By the way, I cannot for the life of me remember the Mary Sue joke! Help a bitch out, Candy, because I have no clue if I even still have Wrath’s book lying around anywhere.
Regarding the Old Language *evil grin* I’m sincerely happy JRWard didn’t choose to grab French or Spanish words, butcher the spelling, and then assign them meaning. As it is, I’ve enough trouble with authors (or could be their copyeditors for all I know) who use “cajones” for “balls”—it’s cOjones, people! (yes, personal peeve).
Amy: The Mary Sue joke came from when Wrath was burning Beth’s full name on his back as part of the marriage ceremony, and she was bemoaning the fact that she didn’t have a shorter name. Why couldn’t she have been named “Mary”? Or “Sue”?
Laughed and laughed. Seemed like a neat bit of irony/self-awareness on Ward’s part, which I appreciate.
I read Dark Lover when it came out. I am living proof that Ward’s books are definitely not crack. Not even Vicodin, more like expired Tylenol(SP). I found the whole world she created contrived and overworked, didn’t like the way the characters talked, didn’t buy the music or the cowboy boots. Not going to read any of the others anytime soon either. Too many other books out there.
That’s my opinion and I’m sticking to it.
Amy F.B. Elias,
“I seem to recall reading somewhere, either in a book or in an interview, that the English words of “fury†and “vengeance†and “fearsomeâ€, etc, were derived from the vampire’s language rather than vice versa, taking English words and tossing in a few extra letters.”
Now, the uber geek comes out and I am truly curious. I would love to know where you read this if you ever remember. If she is doing something like this, there is possibly some honest to god—strange though it may appear—logic. If you look at some of the hypothesized language forms for proto-Indo-European etc etc, you will see some weird /h/ action. Also it crops up in Sanskrit.
Examples ahoy:
Sanskrit /bhratar/—-> English /brother/—-> could possibly become JR Ward /bhrother/
Sanskrit /vidhava/——> English /widow/——> again hypothetically JR Ward /widhow/
Anyway, it’s way out on a limb as far as a theory but I am truly interested and it ups my interest—read addiction—for the JR Ward books.
“If someone, anyone, says “I don’t know,†why would you assume they mean anything beyond “I don’t knowâ€? “
I don’t know is of course I don’t know. I don’t know and it’s not my choice but one made by a fictional character is something else entirely.
I have three reasons I would read more into her statements. One I tend to view everything an author says as up for grabs as far as literary criticism goes. Two Ward is notorious for leaving thinly veiled statements on her message board, and three smart authors (no one can deny Ward’s publicity saavy) know that to a degree they’re playing a politics game. Saying no straight out would possibly offend people, saying no and blaming someone else no matter how thin the excuse saves her the trouble of saying no straight out.
Personally, I see both her comment that the brothers are their own race and that they choose their own mates as justification for the fact that her cast of characters is almost uniformly white. Though, Dr. Manello may be latino.
I’ll admit that maybe I’m reading to much into the racial issue here. These stories are set now, in the US, but there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot in the way of racial diversity. I don’t think authors have a responsibility to depict reality, but the vampires are a superior race, and skin tone wise white. I find that sort of disturbing as well as illogical. Not that lots of paranormal romance don’t do that as well, I don’t mean to single out Ward here.
This book was awful: weak writing, weak plot and even weaker bad guys. Def. not for me.
This series was like watching “I Was a Teenage Werewolf” on the local television station’s Saturday afternoon monster movie show. Mmmm, so cheesy!
Loved this series the way I loved “Mystery Science Theater 3000”—terrible movies, unintentional hilarity. Add Monster Cocks and Magic Hoo-Hoos? Oh, it is like smelly, smelly cheese; horrible smell, and oddly compelling taste.
The whole, random, H insertion was a hoot. Erm, a hhoot. The overwhelming urge to pronounce those special words with an extra stop (“Ruh-HAGE” not rage) kept me and my man giggling like loons.
This is a little late, but I didn’t see it mentioned. This is just about the Brothers *listening* to rap. Their speech…. well, I simply don’t know… I just go “Aw bless” and move on.
ANYWAYS, Many of you wanted to know WHY these characters give a toss about music so much younger than them.
J.R. said that the bass, rhythm and loudness of rap drowned out the constant hearing of others thoughts that V had, and it became something that he not only *needed* to listen to for that kind of peace but also something he enjoys. V said that Tupac ruined him for every other genre.
As a 20 year old black Jamaican, hip hop is simply an important part of the culture and my history (though I hate 50 cent), and I think it’s very enjoyable. I love to go dancing to it! The beat rocks! And to me Tupac was a true poet, no ifs, ands or buts.
Oh, and J.R. said that rap is her favourite type of music, and that most of the scenes from the books come to her when she’s listening to it while jogging, so it’s an important part of her life and the writing process of the books.
But whatever, I can’t speak for her. But join the message board to read her responses yourself, if you’d like. That’s the only reason I joined.
Love,
Heidi
They are crhack, I’ll give you that. A small part of my mind was saying everything in the reivew, but I read them anywhay. And enjhoyed them, too. But seriously, WHAT is it about them makes them so addicthive?
Hugs,
Stewhie
end31…mean mean mean. I’ve got almost another year til I’m 31.
I’ve just come out from under the rock I’ve been living under. A friend sent me the entire series and I’m now trying desperately to finish the third one. I love me my bad boys, but I hate it when they’re bad boys because of some hugely traumatic past. *barfs* Dammit! Be bad because you want to be bad, not because you are some broken wreck of a being that needs to be healed by a woman’s vagina. *stabs Zsadist* And why does he escape the extra “h”?
I have to agree with everything in this review. The writing was bad, the dialog made me want to bang my head against a sharp stick, and the characters are completely unsympathetic, but I love the books. Hmmm.. maybe there’s some sort of drug added to the paper to make us feel all happy and euphoric while reading them?
I was desperately hoping that Marissa would turn evil and kick Wrath’s stupid ass into the mud. What kind of weak-willed doormat do you have to be to waste hundreds of years of your life on some egotistical, heartless bastard and then have him dump you for some floozy he just met and not do anything about it?