Rant
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Romance
Theme: Secret Baby/Surprise Pregnancy
Archetype: Diverse Protagonists, Royalty, Single Parent/Guardian
I read Princess of Zamibia because it’s a romance between an African prince and an African American woman, and because it avoids negative stereotypes of African countries.
I ended up being triggered and upset and a little bit murderous. Rant ahead.
TW for kidnapping and rape.
I’m angry, people, and anger is contagious.
It’s OK to skip everything ahead. Short version is that the hero in Princess of Zamibia is an asshat.
It’s my duty to finish writing down the gory details but for crying out loud, stop reading now and go look at some pretty pictures.
Here, I’ll get you started.
[caption id="attachment_74510" align="aligncenter" width="500"]
You are the puppy, the puppy is you[/caption]
Let’s get some geography out of the way. There is a real country in Africa called The Republic of Zambia, but it is a different place from the imaginary country of Zamibia in the book. They are not the same. The fictional Zamibia is not a perfect utopia. For one thing, sexism is clearly an issue there. However, the country is portrayed in positive and optimistic terms overall. The one thing this book did well was present a positive view of an African country, albeit a made-up one.
And now the plot.
(Deep breath.)
Once upon a time, this asshole, Crown Prince Kofi Francois Karunzika of Zamibia, spent some time in New York where he had an affair with a woman named Dahlia, accused her of theft, and left. When Dahlia found out that she was pregnant, she tried to contact Kofi, but was told by Kofi’s right-hand-man that Kofi had a wife already, which was true, and which Kofi had neglected to tell Dahlia.
So Dahlia, who is not a thief, thank you VERY much, raises her son, Noel, on her own until…
…Kofi shows up to kidnap the baby (Noel is just over two years old at the start of the book).
This isn’t: “I want to get to know my kid and I want shared custody,” either.
This is “I have power and you don’t.” Here’s Kofi explaining things:
And how do you propose to stop me? The royal plane is at my disposal. I only have to make a phone call and we’ll be in the air and on the way to Zamibia. Do you think your government will stop me? They will laugh at you.
Fuck you, Kofi. Nothing Kofi said or did for the rest of the book redeemed him in my eyes for threatening to kidnap the baby and telling Dahlia that he can get away with it because he has money, he has power, he has diplomatic immunity, blah, blah, blah.
Kofi blithers away about how Dahlia is a lying thief and he’s the best and the most richest etc, etc.
Then Kofi tells Dahlia that she can stay with her son if she goes back to Zamibia with him and marries him and has more babies.
You know what sex under duress is, Kofi? It’s rape.
This entire plot is built on the premise of unapologetic and largely unacknowledged rape. Kofi is a kidnapper, a bully, and a rapist and I hope he rots in hell. He also spends much of the book continuing to accuse Dahlia of theft, so he’s emotionally abusive on that front, too.
Then there was the a scene that was so deeply upsetting, I will to hide it behind spoiler tags to avoid hurting anyone.
MAJOR RAPE TW FOR THIS SECTION.
There’s a scene in which Kofi pins Dahlia down on the couch while her son is asleep in the other room until: “He saw the exact moment anger transformed into lust.” This scene was incredibly traumatizing for me on several levels. I will attempt to explain why. After this point, they have what’s supposed to be a consensual make out session, but there’s nothing consensual about it in my perspective, even without her physical and verbal struggle. The entire situation makes consent impossible because there are so many levels of power imbalance that have been openly brought to Dahlia’s attention to get her to comply with Kofi’s demands. Eventually Dahlia gets Kofi to stop, at which point she is crying and “can’t even look at him” because she’s frustrated by her circumstances, her powerlessness, and her physical attraction. Prior to the onset of “lust” that Kofi allegedly “saw,” Dahlia tries to run for the door, and then proceeds to fight Kofi verbally and physically. It’s was a terrifying and degrading scene to read, because the more she struggles, the more he leers at her body. There’s nothing playful or teasing here – Dahlia is sincerely angry and afraid. I was truly terrified and enraged and just really deeply triggered by everything in this scene including but not limited to the fact that while all this is happening, her toddler son, the one Kofi wants to kidnap, is asleep in the other room. I also want to address the whole concept of “it’s not rape if eventually she feels sexual desire.” People have many different physical reactions during sexual assault. Some women experience vaginal lubrication, and both women and men sometimes experience orgasm. This physical, reflexive reaction does not make the act consensual. Even though at some point Dahlia puts her arms around Kofi’s neck and returns his kisses, that doesn’t change the fact that she’s being forced into this situation: She barely managed to stop him. Her body hummed from his hands on her breasts and his tongue stroking between her legs. Her fight or flight instincts were fully engaged, warning that she couldn’t sleep with him, but if he’d pushed a little harder, she would have succumbed. If you’d like to read the entire scene, it is included in the Google Books preview, and you can read it here, beginning at the start of Chapter 11. Again, please be aware that I found this scene extremely triggering, and want to warn you as well.
I don’t have a rage gif for this. I’m too upset. There’s not enough brain bleach in the world to get that ugliness out of my head. Not all the puppy gifs in the world could calm me down.
Back to the plot.
Does Dahlia agree to go to Zamibia? Of course she does. Dahlia, a financially struggling single mom, knows that if she fights Kofi legally he’ll probably have custody of her son for years while the battle goes on. So she does what any mom would do, which is whatever she has to do to stay with Noel. Sadly, she does not poison Kofi or murder him in his sleep. Instead she’s impressed by how sweet he is to Noel (other than threatening to rip Noel away from his mom forever, Kofi is a true sweetheart with the kid). Kofi buys Dahlia expensive things, they have great sex, and she learns to be an excellent Princess who does good things for the country at the side of her adoring rapist husband. The End.
Y’all.
I am so angry. I am angry that Kofi is presented as a hero. I’m angry that a scene of attempted rape is presented as a hot make-out session. I’m angry that their romance does not involve any acknowledgement whatsoever that Kofi’s behavior was unacceptable. He displays no remorse nor awareness, not even a, “Hey, sorry I called you a thief and threatened to kidnap your child and assaulted you in your apartment.” I wanted so much to enjoy this book, but I could not get past the portrayal of sexual assault, manipulation, and coercion as romantic. I’m so angry about it.
If I don’t channel my anger into productive action, it tends to explode everywhere, so here are some links for self help and for advocacy:
National Sexual Assault Telephone Advoacy: 1-800-656-HOPE(4673)
Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE(7233) (for phone calls and secure live chat)
National Organization for Women
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Is this some weird fan fiction about Coming to America? Even the countries (Zamibia/Zamunda) sound similar.
What’s with all these fantasy kingdoms anyhow, why do people want to imagine that an African country must be a monarchy? How about a positive portrayal of actual life in an actual place on the continent?
I hope the author reads this review.
Ever notice how fictional countries in movies, comics and books from the USA are usually located in Africa, Eastern Europe or maybe the middle east, but never in North America? I think that’s because the average U.S. citizen doesn’t have a perfect knowledge of those places (no offense, but it’s true), making it much easier to imagine the fictional country existing in the real world.
If the fictional nation was located in North America, though, readers/viewers are going to know for a fact that it doesn’t exist–it’ll be much harder to fit onto their mental maps, so to speak. That’s why books, movies and comics from the USA never place the made-up countries there.
Until I got to the end of the bit written in the TW section, i thought Noel would be the hero of the book and the whole thing would be like that Nora Roberts book where the king of some made up country came to America, had a romance, married the lady and ended up being super shitty, so his daughter grew up full of anger and got revenge. I think the NR book was probably pretty problematic in how it portrayed the race of the H’s dad (it’s been a long time since I’ve read it so I’m fuzzy on the details), but it never veered into “abusive behavior is romantic/sexy”.
Jenreadsromance posted a review of another book with a toxic relationship as the romance last night and ugh. It’s 2018, I want authors to stop doing this. I feel like before a book is published the authors should go through an “is this relationship abusive” checklist to make sure the relationship doesn’t tick any of the boxes.
@mikey I think that most North American countries lack monarchies has something to do with it as well. I’ve seen some fictional Caribbean islands in books, but even then most of those didn’t have a monarch, it was just a fake place. I’m wondering if the size of countries in mainland North America factors in as well. When all the mainland countries span several thousand miles, it’s hard to imagine a smaller country wouldn’t have been taken over during the manifest destiny era, whereas overseas several smaller countries have existed for a very long time.
I was thinking the same as Alexandra, that the baby would turn out to be the secret princess and an MC in the story.
Not *that* person.
How the heck did this get published in 2018???
I read a LOT of accidental pregnancy/secret baby books and this level of coercion is really at the high end of the range. As in ‘worse than some 90s excuses-for-heroes’.
For the ‘hero’ to take a stance which is more or less the wannabe married-with-children version of ‘if I can’t have you, no one can’, i.e. ‘if I can’t be your live-in partner and parent with you, I will oust/sideline you’, yep, straight out of the abuser’s playbook. (Read about that, too.)
I find this an extra layer of disturbing because (1) I saw that Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie TED talk where she said people from dominant cultures (like, exporters) tend to stereotype ‘others’ on the basis of a limited pool of characterisations in fiction (even though fiction is dramatized ):
“I recently spoke at a university where a student told me it was such a shame that Nigerian men were physical abusers like the father character in my novel. I told him that I had recently read a novel called American Psycho and that it was a shame that young Americans were serial murderers.”
And (2) fiction contributes to the way people tend to miss so-called ‘tangential child abuse’ (dunno how ‘tangential’ it is if partner abuse is the main cause of child abuse) and even the abusive power and control partner abuse strategies that involve using children .
(I blame Charlotte Brontë for mothballing The Tenant of Wildfell Hall . Don’t care if I’m churlish.)
That ‘the kid’s in the next room, don’t scream and give him PTSD’ bit? Telling.
And there’s a whiff of triangulation to the ‘hero’ being a stellar dad when the mum doesn’t want to be with him and he left them in the lurch before.
Who the heck even writes this stuff? That was my first thought. So i looked up the author.
According to her website, Delaney Diamond is a best selling author who writes “sweet sensual romance.” This does not sound sweet and sensual to me. She lives in the South which does, to my mind, explain some of the confusion between assault and romance. (I have lived in the South at one time.) I am not tempted to read any of her books based on this review.
Thanks for doing this rant so I can avoid her.
*** TRIGGER WARNINGS ***
For whatever reason, I’m wired in such a way that whenever I’m angry at a man who isn’t a close relative, I experience physical arousal, regardless of how I feel about him or whether I am attracted to him. I was once basically manipulated into an unwanted relationship by someone who knew this about me. No, I didn’t like him and wasn’t otherwise attracted to him. Yes, the sex was hot. Also yes, the relationship was a horrible abusive mess, and although the sex was hot, I didn’t enjoy it. Hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t had a similar experience.
Anyway so yeah, I can’t with this shit.
I can’t even get over the hero’s name. Is it pronounced the same as “coffee”?
@Marian Perera: actually Kofi is a very common name of the Akan ethnic group, in Ghana and neighboring countries (belonged to former U.N. Secretary General Kofi Annan among many other people). And Zamibia is stated to be in West Africa. Dunno how closely the author thought through the ethnic makeup of her kingdom (I haven’t read the book), but this isn’t something I would blame her for.
Vicki- That’s a grossly unfair and incredibly rude characterization of people who live in the southern US. We are well aware of the difference between romance and assault.
Thanks for the head’s up to avoid this garbage fire of a book. I wonder though, what did the first wife think when Dahlia and Noel show up? Does Kofi even give her notice she’s about to be a polygamous wife?
@Marian Perera Almost like “coffee,” but short like “Fifi.” How do I know? Decades of hearing about UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan on the news. He was from Ghana.
I’ve seen this book on Amazon, but have avoided it because “Zamibia” annoyed the everloving fuck outta me. I have a childhood friend from Namibia, an actual country in the southern part of Africa. I remember her telling me, when we met as adults, about how life was different there after spending most of her childhood in the Nordic countries. (I didn’t even think of the Republic of Zambia. I guess we all have our blind spots.) Anyway, apropos of nothing. I think I’ll go wash out my brain with a reread of BINTI.
Thanks, people! “Zamibia” sounded odd enough that I didn’t realize Kofi was an actual name.
Carrie S, thanks for taking one for the team and telling us about stuff to avoid. So, since you started with the Tom Hardy gif, may I propose we set Venom on Kofi, guess he’d be a tasty snack… 🙂
Vicki, no one region of the US or even the world has a higher rate of domestic violence or rape. There’s a lot wrong in this book, but that’s not part of it.
Thanks for your review. I read the excerpt. How revolting! I can’t believe a woman wrote that stuff. Yuck!
I’ve read several of Delaney Diamond’s older books and I’m no longer a fan of her writing. Her “heroes” are usually manipulative and use their strength and wealth to over power the heriones. This book was a no go for me from the beginning.
@Jennifer: When I reported sexual assault to CPS in Florence County, SC, I was told “boys will be boys.” My daughter was beaten up for suggesting to the DARE office that caffeine was a drug. My husband was shot at by his medical director for attempting to report physical assault against one of his patients. Both he and I came out of rural SC with severe PTSD. Sorry if that offends you. It kind of bothers me, too. And, yes, there is abuse and assault everywhere; it’s just that some places try to stop it.
Sorry, not coping well tonight.
@Vicki – I’m so sorry that your family went through that.
I want to remind commenters that we are all very raw this week. I do not beleive that any region of the USA has a monopoly on sexual assault. What I do believe is that we all have stories to tell, we are all especially raw at this moment in time, and it is more vital than ever that we focus on being a supportive community – and for heaven’s sake, vote!
@Susan: You’re welcome to disagree with me about what I said, but it’d be useful if you could explain in more detail which part and why.
@SB Sarah: If I’ve misinterpreted your comment then I apologize, but some parts of the world definitely do have higher rates of domestic violence than others. (I have no information about rape either way.) Compare, for instance, Saudi Arabia–where it was only in 2013 that beating your wife was made illegal–with Norway, and you’ll notice that
there’s a big difference on the whole.
Obviously, this doesn’t mean one can just assume that somebody’s bound to be beating his wife just because he’s Saudi Arabian. Both good people and bad people can be found in any country. But some countries do have higher rates of domestic violence than others, and we need to acknowledge that or we won’t be able to work to help women as effectively.
Vicki: I’m so sorry you and your family went through such awful pain. I am sending love and apologies.
This book sounds truly awful, and it makes me sad because I’m always looking for romances set in African countries. I used to collect vintage romances with white characters who fell in love in Africa, but it eventually made me too angry/sad that there were hundreds of these horrible novels and so few with characters of color and non-racist, non-sexist plots. So I got rid of most of them.
@Vicki- your experiences are very awful, and I’m sorry you had them.
I simply believe making sweeping generalizations about certain populations/groups of people/etc doesn’t do anyone any good. Pax.
This sounds like a bad, bad throwback to those olden romances in which the hero’s rapist bullshit is treated as 100 percent okay in the narrative because she’s had a couple of orgasms, he’s bought the heroine pretty things, is good to his horse/sister/children, and does not beat his servants. I don’t need to tell you what obviously wrongheaded shit THAT is. I’m sorry you were triggered and I wish that we could leave these tropes in the trash where they belong.
I had to stop reading the review 1/3 of the way through. **shudders**
There is actually an audience of women that love these tropes of “rape fantasy, kidnapping, aggressive men, asshole men, possessive manipulative men” a huge audience I might add. Just check Goodreads for the number of lists that involves those tropes, or the number of authors writing about “dark romance.”
Even though, this book is not considered a “dark romance” I have seen many romance books that have incorporated scenes that fall into these categories into their books, because their audience likes it.
So this is my question, when we bash these tropes, call them thrash (in some of the comments above) are we not also bashing the female authors and readers that like them?
You don’t have to like a book, it doesn’t have to be your cup of tea but I feel sometime people get on their high horse, moral authority and look down
at other women who like these tropes.
These same women turn around and claim romance book falls into a feminist category because women are finally free in this fictional world that is created for them by them to have it all in romance books without fear of judgement from society.
I really wish this can be a real discussion, because I see these comments everywhere online “how can you write something like that” How can you like something like that” If romance books = feminism, doesn’t the idea of bashing women for liking a particular type of romance defeat the whole purpose?
Thank you to felicia. I have read many of these darker books. I am also a feminist (or I would like to think of myself as such). I don’t always read such things for the romance, sometimes it’s just a very perverted exploration of a ‘relationship’ gone very very wrong.
From the trigger warnings I see, and from my own life understanding, I know that I have been lucky. There is not much that deeply bothers me, though on different days I have different tolerances for amoralness.
I do agree that the lack of warnings and awareness on the author’s part of the nature of her material is very inappropriate, and I am bothered by the use of the child as a pawn.
Just, please, keep in mind that some of us have high tolerances, even interest in material on the darker end of the spectrum. We appreciate being treated with respect for our traits and interests.
Thank you.
@felicia & Anonymous
Neither of the possible polarised positions work very well:
(a) ‘I hate this book for normalising violence, coercion and more specific human rights violations (esp women’s and children’s)’ = ‘I judge its writers and readers as intellectually and/or morally lacking’ [does NOT equate for many people]; nor
(b) ‘you do you’, so anything goes in reading tastes – and it’s the morally panicking critics who are in the wrong [too much of a carte blanche escape clause]
Somewhere in the middle… (Well, middle ground by my brutally blunt standards at any rate.)
If you write a book out of step with modern gender and family politics without labelling it as transgressive (and, ideally, listing all the laws violated in the Anglosphere and beyond, together with non-fiction reading recs), I WILL give you side-eye. Argus level side-eye.
And I will consider myself bulletproof in doing so in this particular case, as a veteran of the custody wars, as far back as I remember who can bitterly ‘boast’ lived experience of intrafamilial child abduction.
I personally feel malaise and have had PTSD flashbacks to that occasionally, just watching the NEWS. (Not that my pain is in any way at the same end of the scale as when adult family men or women are kidnapped or families are separated by the state, only – apparently – my unconscious mind finds parallels strong enough to override traumatic amnesia and open the vaults of my memory.)
That happens, but books are planned, and I have NO SYMPATHY for authors who fail to label their creations; you do not get to blindside readers with family violence. Especially when many first-time readers are underage and out for an inside scoop on ‘adult themes’.
(Sample: still disgusted by that inspirational romance I read as a pre-tween where a junior minister coerced his underprivileged love interest into forgiving her batterer mum who’d she’d escaped from. Way to make me rage-quit a subgenre.)
Willing readers who’ve received fair warning, that’s your prerogative. I would not ask you such a personal question as the why of your reading preferences.
Much as I love to pick people’s brains, transgressive material such as ‘dark romance’ and (often) erotica probably don’t have enough pride of place in my own preferences for me to hold up my end of an open and equal exchange. I tend to see them as similar to the particular types of manga in “I can’t understand what my husband is saying”, i.e. the manga the husband ‘uses’ rather than ‘reads’.
And I have problems with lingering bitter aftertaste. I also read true crime and my forever-whirring analytical mind without warning throws out comparisons with sexual sadism and coercive control if they are to be found. Kind of kills the mood.
So I would prefer something which doesn’t rage-raise my blood pressure or activate my fiction/nonfiction parallel-text analysis mode. That’s my prerogative, and it doesn’t mean I’m judging people following their own inclinations. Unless they’re indulging in false and misleading advertising or whatever.