Speaking as an alien from the far land of Monogamy, I also found this book lacking. *g*
I’m usually dissatisfied with romance novels, because the genre conventions require the outcome of the romance to be foreordained. So there’s no peril: the ship’s gonna happen; we’re just along for the ride. The writing has to be incredibly witty, rich or insightful to make it worth the trip. In mysteries or horror stories or spy stories with romance, the author can sustain some doubt. The strongest thing Julia Spencer-Fleming did to hook me on her series was to convince me, early on, that here was an author who actually might resolve the sexual tension by having one of her principals decide they needed to leave town.
Jennifer Crusie’s Bet Me was witty, but not enough. And it hit one of my major book-throwing triggers in Calvin Morrisey’s relationship with his son. The college-age son wants to get married. Monogamy is a terrifying undertaking: who but the invulnerable young would dare to promise something they don’t know they can deliver? I’m amazed that anyone my age gets married at all. It’s a risk of heroic proportions, but this young man’s father – his father – who ought to be leading the way and demonstrating by his own life and actions that the risk can be achieved, counsels his son, "No." You’re not ready; you’ll ruin your life, don’t take the chance, keep your options open. Feh. Of course the boy’s not ready. No one ever is. You become ready by doing it. I couldn’t root for Calvin, so the main thing the story had going for it, the ship, wasn’t enough to sustain the tale.
Okay, I’m done spitting monogamy juice. We now return you to your previously scheduled station. :-D
[Oh, and I’m with you on the alienness of fad diets and a-Bechdel characters. Dunno what planet those folks are from.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
momijizukamori and
no subject
Date: 2011-09-12 05:22 pm (UTC)I’m usually dissatisfied with romance novels, because the genre conventions require the outcome of the romance to be foreordained. So there’s no peril: the ship’s gonna happen; we’re just along for the ride. The writing has to be incredibly witty, rich or insightful to make it worth the trip. In mysteries or horror stories or spy stories with romance, the author can sustain some doubt. The strongest thing Julia Spencer-Fleming did to hook me on her series was to convince me, early on, that here was an author who actually might resolve the sexual tension by having one of her principals decide they needed to leave town.
Jennifer Crusie’s Bet Me was witty, but not enough. And it hit one of my major book-throwing triggers in Calvin Morrisey’s relationship with his son. The college-age son wants to get married. Monogamy is a terrifying undertaking: who but the invulnerable young would dare to promise something they don’t know they can deliver? I’m amazed that anyone my age gets married at all. It’s a risk of heroic proportions, but this young man’s father – his father – who ought to be leading the way and demonstrating by his own life and actions that the risk can be achieved, counsels his son, "No." You’re not ready; you’ll ruin your life, don’t take the chance, keep your options open. Feh. Of course the boy’s not ready. No one ever is. You become ready by doing it. I couldn’t root for Calvin, so the main thing the story had going for it, the ship, wasn’t enough to sustain the tale.
Okay, I’m done spitting monogamy juice. We now return you to your previously scheduled station. :-D
[Oh, and I’m with you on the alienness of fad diets and a-Bechdel characters. Dunno what planet those folks are from.]