His For The Holidays
by Josh Lanyon
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
M/M romance, rated for enjoyment, not quality. Oh, and the “Holidays” in the title is there for alliteration, not multiculturalism. It’s more like His for Christmas Except Also There’s That One Jewish Guy
. In no particular order:
ZA Maxfield, “I Heard Him Exclaim.” Schmaltz, and boy howdy. A mindlessly enjoyable story about two men finding each other, punctuated by some terrible
writing. Seriously, check this out: “Chandler inched his way forward again, angling to either hit Steve’s sweet spot or pierce his heart like an hors d’ouvre.” I sporfled so violently when I read that, I banged my temple off a train window. The unfortunate mental imagery! The terrible muddle of literalism and simile! And that simile – ha, yes, because when you’re writing about two guys falling in love, clearly the appropriate association to draw is to one of them putting the other’s heart on a stick and eating it!
Harper Fox, “Nine Lights Over Edinburgh.” A standout in quality and depth, featuring a middle-aged, alcoholic, slightly bent cop with massive internalized homophobia issues. Fox also seems cognizant of the ways his genre – and this narrative in particular – treat female characters badly, as disposable props. Unfortunately, the formulaic romance fell flat when slapped over this promising mix. Eyes meet across a crowded room, danger, grief, blah, love for no explicable reason, porn, blah.
Josh Lanyon, “Icecapade.” Why I snagged the book. The one about Noel the retired diamond thief, and the FBI agent who’s been chasing him for years. Suspend disbelief by neck until dead. It’s basically White Collar
future fic with the serial numbers filed off. By which I mean I thought it was great.
L.B. Gregg, “Mistletoe at Midnight.” Acceptably schmaltzy tale of old lovers reuniting, marred by a background family that’s supposed to be charmingly eccentric, but was just embarrassing and uncomfortable. Also some really odd fatphobic undertones.View all my reviews