Review: Dick and Jane and Vampires by Laura Marchesani and Tommy Hunt

Has it really come to this?

Has it?

It seems that it has.

When I saw this at my local pusher of all things printed, I thought perhaps I'd gotten punchy after hours of birthday shopping for a tween. No, it was really there. Dick. And Jane. And Vampires.

Make it stop.

To give the credit where it is due, this is a brilliant adaptation. I've taught multiple children to read with  Dick and Jane. (Although I myself was reared with Mark and Laura. Either they were less expensive or the early steps Dick and Jane made into integration so disturbed my parents that Mark and Laura were pressed into action.) This is a seamless addition to the series. Tommy Hunt has the iconic illustration style spot on. His vampire is slightly off what a true period vampire would be, but close enough that he fits in. Considering he's a vampire. Laura Marchesani hasn't taken Dick and Jane too far from an early reader's comfort zone, making this one of the rare Children's Book For Adults that still serves as a child's primer. Oh! Oh! A Bat! isn't far from See the boat! See the red boat!. If you're the sort of parent inclined to do so, you could teach your child to read with this book. Should you? Well, there are any number of things people will do with their children that I'd rather they didn't, but in a world with Sweet Farts or Walter the Farting Dog; Banned From the Beach I think that Dick and Jane and Vampires is acceptable fare.

Not that you were asking me. We both know you already bought this for the Vampire obsessed young parent in your social circle. I know you're not laughing with them. I'm not either. It's ok. If you really want to score points you'll team it with a vintage edition of Fun With John and Jean. (Those were the special versions of Dick and Jane made for the Catholic schools. Jean spends some quality time contemplating the Virgin Mother instead of the toy boats.) Dick and Jane don't want to judge you, they just want to play.

Sony PRS-650: The First Date

There's a well deserved cliche about trading in your beloved for the younger model. I do have a roving eye. Something about the extra equipment a Kindle packs makes me think "What If" although I know my preferences run to Sony. Sitting on the shelf in all it's graphite glory, the Kindle 3 seems to say "How do you know if you haven't tried?" It's true, Sony isn't meeting all my needs, but I love how it looks in red and the things it can do to an epub! I always put the Kindle down.

My beloved Sony PRS-505 cover snapped. (I bought that cover in  London, I could go on for pages about it, but I won't.) So, as one does, I thought "Should I replace the cover or the reader?"  After all, a few hundred bucks or opening the box I put the old cover in - same thing.  Mostly. Sort of. (Hey, I'm not a debt counselor, don't bring your bourgeois guilt to me!) I slid on my flip flops, grabbed a new handbag to counter my Sunday Scrubbing Clothes and took myself off to the Sony Style store.

They had no idea what I was talking about. There's some PS3 launch going on. (I played that sex toy meets Harry Potter looking thing at Lollapalooza and Darling, I was not impressed. I have to say Darling. I went shopping in Palm Beach. Sunglasses on the head, air kisses, skeletons walking around when it's not even Halloween, it's just what we do.) But there they were, tucked into a little corner. And there I was, flush with cash from a brief stop at my savings (hah!) account and ready for a new love. We did a little speed dating, the PRS-650 and me. Sure, I flirted with Pocket, but size matters. (Didn't we learn that with iPad?) The PRS-650 felt lighter, the screen was brighter, I knew I'd made the right choice. I could kick the PRS-505 to a cousin, I could put it on ebay, it would be fine. Someone would love it. PRS-650 had me laughing at it's jokes and thinking about taking it back to my place. Then it happened.

You know how you're with someone at a party and everything is going great, the place seems a little too bright and the conversation a little too loud but the person you're with seems so incredibly clever that it's worth it? Then, out of nowhere, they say something like "I can tell you're not one of those women." Or maybe it's "Like our President - that moron!" Suddenly you notice their nose hair needs trimming, your feet hurt, you didn't get enough sleep last night and oh my goodness - is that food in their teeth? Eeeww. (You don't? Um, ok, you know that guy in the mosh pit who cheers while forgetting he has a beer in his hand so it ends up getting dumped all over your head? Yes. Like that.)

PRS-650's touch response stopped working. I could tap, I could select, but the swipe to turn a page froze. I reset, I re-requested, I begged it to come back from it's selective unresponsiveness. Nothing. Look, there are enough emotionally distant, needy and unresponsive people in my life. I don't need to take anything from my reader. Thinking it was me, I tried to turn a page on the Pocket again. It responded eagerly (a little too eagerly if you ask me) but PRS-650 still refused to budge. Open menu? Sure. Select item? No problem. Turn the page? It was holding a grudge.

I went back home to PRS-505. We haven't talked about it. I sort of want to ask if PRS-505 has ever considered getting rejuvenated. You know, a brighter screen might be just the thing. We could forget about the lack of PDF scaling or note taking if we had some additional clarity! (I can't see it happening. PRS-505 has abandonware issues.) I'm not sure what we're going to do long term. I'm glad I got to see what PRS-650 was like before things went too far. I'm sure it's going to make someone happy, but I suppose it's not going to be me. Maybe it was just a bad first impression. I'm not sure what I'd say if PRS-650 called me. (Did I leave my number?)

Review: Christmas Eve at Friday Harbor by Lisa Kleypas

If you told me this book was published in the 1980's, I'd believe you. That's not a negative sentence, it is just an indicator of how strongly Christmas Eve at Friday Harbor reminded me of an early Nora Roberts or even maybe a Billie Green. It was refreshing to read a story where the characters' relationship was rooted in things like conversation. I've gotten so used to the obligatory chicka-bow-wow of most contemporary romance that I'd forgotten how to read without it. It's like turning the literary dial from HBO After Hours to the Hallmark Channel.

It's hard to tell I loved the book, isn't it?  Let me take a moment for the marketing. Look at that cover! It's beautiful. It's the perfect cover for a holiday gift book. It says 'A Novel' so you know it isn't a romance. I mean, it is, but if you call it A Novel then people who aren't into reading romance will adore it, because hey, they like novels. It's got that "Nicholas Sparks (note, he does not write romance, he writes... did you guess it?... novels where couples fall in love!) meets Skipping Christmas" ready for gift giving appeal. Everything about the marketing for Christmas Eve At Friday Harbor gently whispers bestseller and I salute the production team. Toss a couple pensive profiles to the right of the main boat and you've got the Lifetime movie poster.

The book itself is a perfect comfort read. You've got the holiday tragedy as the book opens with Mark claiming his orphaned niece, Holly. There's the requisite ugly dog, the dinner disaster, the small town where everyone knows Mark's name, the estranged brothers trying to make a go of it collectively for the child, the well intentioned but obviously too self involved girlfriend and the girl next door type recently arrived in town to open a toy shop and forget the losses of her own not so distant past. Mark recognizes that Maggie is the sort of girl he'd put in the friend category, Maggie notices that Mark is the complete opposite of her type but still very attractive, and it's on. You know the shelf life of the current girlfriend is limited no matter what Mark says.

There are fantastic elements here. Mark's strained relationship with his siblings, his sincerity as he bonds with Holly, Maggie's baby steps out into dating again, it all feels real. You understand exactly why they make a great couple and exactly why they hesitate to become one. My problems with Christmas Eve at Friday Harbor are small. The most significant is Holly. I find it hard to believe that a child who has suffered such a great loss would ask Santa for a new mother in just a few months. The timeline doesn't work for me. A year, two years, even eighteen months - but her very first Christmas without her mother and she's ready to replace her? I don't see it. But if you give the plot that suspension of disbelief then everything else flows naturally. The second quibble is that the book is short. On consideration, I'm not sure if that's a fair complaint. If Kleypas sexed it up to current romance standards, the book would be conventional length and I would have read the same number of pages. I think it may be that less is more. Buy this one for Grandma but sneak a read for yourself first.

Review: Yuk (Bing Bunny) by Ted Dewan

I'm not planning on making a habit of reviewing children's books necessarily, but I'm a little bit in love with Bing. There is every chance that at least one of my children will smuggle Bing into her college suitcase (or her military duffle, or her angrily packed trash bag or....). Most of the Bing books are out of print. They may come back to life as an iPad app, but my experience is that truly great things for children have trouble finding homes.

This title encapsulates everything I love about Bing. He's hopelessly in love with Flop, who seems to exist somewhere between a parental figure and a stuffed animal. Flop is both the voice of reason and a source of anxiety for Bing. It would be a little dysfunctional if not for Flop's total acceptance of Bing.

When Bing fails to meet Flop's needs, rise to his expectations, or perform in socially prescribed ways they sigh and embrace the differences. "It's just not a Bing Thing." It's the perfect relationship in a way. Take the events of the epic Yuk. Flop is totally into tomatoes. He's so into them he just can't understand why anyone would ever find them distasteful. Bing likes things that emulate the admirable qualities of this perfect food, why won't he deign to try this one? Flop is at a loss. Things escalate, Bing does things he regrets, Flop gets angry, it all spirals out of control before anyone can intervene. Then a deep breath is taken and acceptance is found. Bing and Flop don't have to like the same things. Bing isn't here to be a mini-Flop. Bing is Bing, and his things are his things.

I've read this book to many children, even eerily silent classes of children. I've never had a child fail to respond to Yuk's message of individuality and love. Some parents, however, are disappointed that Bing isn't forced to love tomatoes. After all, Flop has his best interests in mind. Bing should at least give them a shot. (I feel for their children.)

Review: The Duke's Captive by Adele Ashworth

Yesterday I was thinking that what one will allow in a character changes with age. When I was younger if I had encountered a book like The Duke's Captive I might have loved it. Certainly I forgave contemporary heros who hung around truck stops looking for delicate amnesiacs to take home and clothe. I managed to tolerate submissive secretaries and 'love scenes' that lacked consent. (Let's not even talk about the Plantation Novel genre.)  Even a deadbeat dad was fine if he showed the appropriate remorse.

Alas, I am so much older now. I wanted to like The Duke's Captive so very much. Adele Ashworth is a wonderful writer. Certainly, she loves her Dukes (Duke of Scandal, Duke of Sin, The Duke's Indiscretion...) but who in Romanceland doesn't? Sadly there are two problems here. The first is that the book relies far too much on knowledge of Ashworth's 2008 release A Notorious Proposition. The second is our heroine, Viola. (I've changed my mind, three problems.) The third is the central theme of the book - what is rape? What is consent? If you believe that consent is the word yes, no matter the context in which it is issued, stop here. If you have any familiarity at all with Stockholm Syndrome read on!

Ian once spent 5 weeks locked in a dungeon where he almost died of neglect. The reader who hasn't read A Notorious Proposition will have absolutely no idea why, even after a late in the book rumination on how he came to be captured. (It's his own fault, of course. He was practically asking for it. No, I did mean to put it that way. That's the rape defense - he was ASKING for it.) Having survived his ordeal, Ian is plagued by memory troubles and a desire for revenge. I mean justice. No, I mean revenge. (Oh, who knows. Since he ends up with Viola the man is obviously unfit to make his own choices in life.) Fast forward and skip over all the plot points. Ok, so Viola's sisters had kidnapped Ian, he's really mad, he's going to make Viola pay as one of his captors through this TOTALLY elaborate plot because he wants to have sex with his rapist and - what? No, you have that right. Ian believes (and I concur) that Viola raped him. But he wants to have sex with her anyway. I know! But he does. Right, so Viola is a widow and she's been living with her four year old son (Wait, how long ago was Ian freed? Secret baby in Victorianland, y'all!) and making a living as an artist of dirty pictures when Ian shows up and she practically faints.

We're getting bogged down with too much plot. Fast forward again. Ian kidnaps her and holds her hostage in a tiny cabin where she isn't at all concerned about her son but instead is pissed that Ian doesn't understand that he'd be dead if it wasn't for her and he wanted sex so much that the only Christian thing to do was give it him because it was true love. (Really, am I the only one thinking of a certain crazy teacher and her too young lover right now?) But then she realizes if he doesn't get to have sex with her again he will never be whole so she says "whatever, bang me", and he does. Because they are so hot for each other. It must be love if they want to have sex! It isn't Stockholm Syndrome at all! Even though the whole time she's been thinking "Dude, I will totally ruin you with your secrets" and she exposes him to intense public humiliation in the end he realizes that it was not her fault that her family abducted, drugged, starved, beat, and attempted to kill him. She was a victim too. She did her best. She keeps his secrets. (What?) Oh, I forgot, he was also chained to a wall the whole time.

And you know, I think I had Stockholm Syndrome too because I was sort of starting to see his point. Yes, large parts of their interpersonal dynamic made me hunger for a shower and some quality therapy, but overall she did assist in freeing him. She did offer him what care she could because - wait. Viola wasn't in fear of her life? She was just in fear of being homeless? She kept an earl (he gets a social upgrade between books) captive because her mom might get mad? Ok, maybe she just doesn't want to articulate that... what? She is bitching that her sister doesn't want to talk to her anymore? The one jailed and transported for trying to kill Ian? Viola is saving money in a special account to give her sister if she ever forgives Viola for freeing Ian?

Wow. Viola's martyr act just got a whole lot less tolerable. Ian's sister makes a cameo to give Ian proof of Viola's love instead of the hair pulling, bitch slapping, drop kicking the reader is longing for and all is well for these two little lovebirds. Of course, she's a rapist with some scary situational ethics and he's suffering from post traumatic stress syndrome, but why quibble? She raped him, he raped her, it doesn't really matter if you liked it. Plus, she had a child. Everyone knows that having the child of the man you sexed up while he was dying, chained, and drugged silly means you care. Ok. I'm getting a little misty just remembering. I'd better leave it at that.

Review: It's A Book by Lane Smith

Normally I show the front covers but in this case, I think the back cover is more appropriate.

You can't review a book like this. It's a small picture book so within a sentence or two I will have typed more text than the pages contain. Generally you would say what age it's good for, if it's clever or dull, how well juice spills wipe off the pages. Target market stuff.

But It's A Book is not really just a children's book. It's an anti e-book statement by a very popular children's author known for being sly. It's more of a cultural event than a children's book. After all, few children grabbing this in their sticky little palms will be unaware what a book is.

As a cultural statement it reminds me of the dude that wants you off his lawn. These kids today and their know nothing ways, their crazy Model-T Fords and their greaser hair. They'll never amount to anything. (Wow, did I just compare e-readers to the Greatest Generation? That's the problem with cultural screeds. They lend themselves to hyperbole.)

This IS a book. And it's an entertaining book if you hate e-reading. It's an entertaining book if you like watching children pretend to be scandalized. The annoying little ignoramus is full of the manic eager to please chatter of a certain kind of child. The besieged monkey is spot on with his fatigued contempt in his role as the elder child free relative. They are as Odd Couple as an Odd Couple ever was. (Lane Smith says he modeled the monkey a bit on Buster Keaton. I'm more of a Harold Lloyd kind of girl myself.)

It's A Book is most entertaining as a gift for the pearl clutchers you know. You see, that lovely little guy up there? He's a jackass. He's not a mule, a donkey, a small misshapen pony - he's a jackass. In a book. Children might read this book. Children might see the word jackass. They might see it used in ways with multiple meanings. JACKASS. (See? You can't stop.) There are people who are worried about this. I think it's the same people I see with their 3 year old in the R rated movie while my kids are safely at home reading It's A Book, but I might be judging.

I totally want to scan this, turn it into an iPad app and THEN give it to my e-reader hating family member. Hm. I wonder if I'm a mule.

Review: The Sevenfold Spell by Tia Nevitt

I am a complete sucker for fairy tales. (What is a romance novel but a tale of a disguised princess and her happily ever after?) Previously I would have said that there are two sides to every fairy tale, the Princess and the Witch. What I forget, of course, are all the people who line the lanes to cheer the happy couple on. Not every face in the crowd is a joyful one. Tanith Lee used to do some lovely off center fairy tales. So did Robin McKinley. Being able to take a familiar story and breathe new life into it without undermining the original is a rare talent. Tia Nevitt appears to have it in abundance.

The Sevenfold Spell opens shortly after the birth of Princess Aurora, the soon to be sleeping beauty. In their grief, the King and Queen have ordered all spinning wheels destroyed. But spinners still need to feed their families. People still require thread. The village economy is in a shambles because of the actions of those leading it. (Timely, no?) Talia is a girl of no great beauty  who has a comfortable life planned. Through her own labor she has learned to spin, saved a dowry, and befriended an equally common man.  But it is Aurora who must be protected, not Talia.

The spinners don't happily turn over their wheels. There is no subsidized job retraining program for the newly unemployed. With no beauty, no livelihood and no income, Talia finds life a lot less comfortable. Like many a woman before her, Talia has defined her own worth through the cruel comments of others.  So if Talia cannot have what she wants, she will want what she can get.  If no one will protect her, she will protect herself. Purity and perfection are for princesses, pragmatism and persistence are traits that serve peasants well. This is a fun novella with some unexpected depth. Definitely worth the money and further proof that Carina Press was a great idea.

Review: Passions of a Wicked Earl by Lorraine Heath

Since Lorraine Heath left westerns behind I've become a tremendous fan of hers. This double publishing event (Passions of a Wicked Earl is followed the next month by Pleasures of a Notorious Gentleman) looked like the best thing to happen to October since Halloween. Then I got scared. The basic set up for Passions is that Morgan finds Claire in the arms of Morgan's brother (Stephen from Pleasures) and while threesomes may be popular in romance fiction right now, it's not what Morgan had in mind for his wedding night. Morgan, understandably upset, banishes Claire to the proverbial country estate, never to be thought of again while he sets about sleeping with any woman who is not Claire. Here's where the fear comes in. The advance ad copy reads "she... has returned to London with one goal in mind: the seduction of her notorious husband."

Really? That's her entire goal? I know from checking out the Amazon forums that I'm not the only reader who came to a full stop at that set up. There's a high ewwww factor in tearing a man who has been ignoring you from another woman's bed and begging Mr. Patriarch to condescend. Lorraine Heath has been delivering original reads packed full of emotional punch and deep character motivations. "He sleeps with everyone, everyone but her!" isn't what I want. Cracking the cover, I find the hero in bed with another woman. Great. It's not a treat, it's a trick. Like Morgan, I jumped to conclusions. Unlike Morgan, I stuck around for more than five minutes to find out what was really going on. Turns out Claire's goal is a wee bit more complicated than the cover let on. (I shouldn't judge books by their covers. Look at this cover - I'd assume Morgan runs about naked all day. Plus, there seems to be an extra leg in there. Either Claire has a hidden friend or it's a really long way to her knee.) Claire's arrival turns everything upside down. What we have here is a complex story of two young kids who caused themselves a decade of pain by failing to communicate. (Sound familiar? That's just me? Really? Um, ok.)

With a brief nod to the characters of her last series to let you know you're in the same world, Heath sets up a man who has trouble expressing his emotions and therefore failed to court the woman he wants. Morgan expects her to fulfill his needs without giving her any indication that her own are important to him. (Ok, that has to ring some bells. Anyone?) Refreshingly, Claire is willing to call him out on what he's done wrong without using it as an excuse for her own poor judgement. Morgan and Claire are at the end of their marriage, with Morgan considering Claire's replacement. (Is it too late for them to repair the hurt of the past and learn to live in the future?) Passions of a Wicked Earl is a fantastic tale of a marriage on the brink of ending. Lorraine Heath folds in a brilliant subplot with a smaller triangle between Morgan's mother, a painter several years her junior, and a lover lost to her forever.

(I did have a problem with the late appearance of a murderous figure. Did a memo go out that near death experiences bring the romance? Because I neither got that memo nor want it. Like Claire and Morgan, I can forgive. This is a super tasty book that more than makes up for a few pieces of licorice and a toothbrush in the candy bag.)

Passions of a Wicked Earl is a must buy for October. It's not just a great read in it's own right, it sets up  Pleasures of a Notorious Gentleman which is one of my top five books for 2010. It's that good. Whether you look at Passions as a prequel, as a great read on it's own, or as a challenge to the rest of the field to step up their romance game, Lorraine Heath is delivering a major treat.

Review: The Sergeant's Lady by Susanna Fraser

Let's be honest. I bring some preconceived notions to The Sergeant's Lady. This is my first Carina Press book. My past experience with straight-to-digital publishing has been bleak. My opinion of Angela James is fairly high. I had serious issues with Susanna Fraser's website (I won't link it, if she's changed it that won't make sense, if she hasn't I'm doing her no favors) but I have complete sympathy for her excitement in her new career being stomped on by both the website and one Miles Hood Swarthout. (He thinks he's famous enough that his readers will buy her book by mistake. I could go on about the umbrage over originality from an author who apparently makes his living adapting his father's prior works but I... won't. Just in case you were confused, this one isn't a western.) Finally, while I adore Regencyland war tales I also grow impatient with books that gloss over social differences. (I feel rather sorry for The Sergeant's Lady. It's probably wondering why I cracked it's cover at all.)

All of that baggage out of the way, I quite liked The Sergeant's Lady. Since Signet killed off it's monthly regency imprint (let me pause to pour a bit of ratafia on the ground) there hasn't been a great source of short form regency novels. While authors like Carla Kelly have found new homes at Harlequin Historicals, it's still a niche market. Add the less popular war setting, and you're almost sunk for publication. There's a pretty big gap between "Across a crowded ballroom, amidst the silks and satins, two beautiful people of unmeasured wealth began a dance of desire!" and "While the stench of amputated flesh rose about them, two tired and filthy souls clung together against the certainty of death!" (Wait, I'm doing it again, aren't I?) ANYway - this book has a serious body count, which you'd expect from a novel that wraps it's war up at Badajoz. It's also a light and delicate romance that combines familiar elements (doesn't everyone have a first husband who uses 'whore' as a pet name?) with unfamiliar realities (children following the drum) into an engaging tale. The social difference between Anna and Will isn't brushed aside nor miraculously solved.  While I think the actual resolution of that difference might have had a bit more resistance than it finds here, it's a plausible enough solution free of implausible interventions. Anna is often a bit too intrepid but Will provides a good counterpoint as a man unsure of his place in her world but unable to easily leave it. Rather like Will, after reading The Sergeant's Lady I wanted to search the storage bay for my favorite half remembered Signet war regencies.

While it wasn't a perfect read for me, Susanna Fraser overcame a mountain of baggage to deliver an entertaining book that made me open to trying her next one. At the same time, Carina Press proved themselves to be a 'real' publisher worth my cash money. I've got to give some credit to their art department as well - ebook covers that don't look like ten minute photoshop afterthoughts? I'm all for that.

Review: All I Ever Wanted by Kristan Higgins

Here are a few things I absolutely hate in my romance heroines. 

1. Overly Cute Heroine Names 

2. Former Prom Queen

3. Weight Concerns, Non Medical

4. Wacky / Quirky Families. 

5. Unrealistic Emotional Expectations 

6. Marshmallow Backbones

7. Quirky Catchphrases

8. Plethora of Adorable Old & Cranky People

9. Fur Children

10. Spunk

Callie (Calliope) has all ten of those covered, and then some. So why is All I Ever Wanted one of my best books of the year? Because Kristan Higgins is apparently that awesome. Without this having been chosen as a book for the SBTB Sizzling Summer Book Club I never would have purchased it. This would have been my absolute loss. 

Callie has allowed two events to shape her life. Between her parent's divorce and her obsession with her former teen crush / ex boyfriend / boss Mark, Callie lives most of her life in her head. Every scrap she's thrown is torn apart for meaning until she's constructed a new room for her fairy castle in the air. Right there, I should want to slap her. But Callie is self aware enough to berate herself for having doormat tendencies. This is not only a great source of the book's humor, but stops the reader from having to berate Callie themselves. Her desire to see the good in anyone leads to her own repeated downfall as she ignores what's in front of her face. At home, with her widowed grandfather Noah, Callie drops the perfect princess act and allows her true self to emerge. Freed from the frantic love-me-please tap dance she performs across town (in red shoes if you believe the cover art) Callie is a more sympathetic soul. 

This is Pamela Morsi at her best good. This is Nora Roberts good. This is a great contemporary. While I wish there wasn't a career 180 performed at the end of the book, overall everything rings true and several cliches are turned on their heads. Callie gets a happy ending she can build on, Ian gets some resolution of his own issues, and Mark finds out where his heart belongs. Along the way, everything I dislike in a romantic heroine is rendered likeable.

(Don't think this means I'll be eating green eggs & ham, because I'm holding firm on that.)

Review: Insatiable by Meg Cabot

Insatiable is a perfectly inoffensive read that can't decide exactly what it wants to be. Is it a spoof? Is it homage? Is it book one of a vampire series? There are a lot of great concepts here but some mixed executions. By the end of the book aspects of it that seemed fun and original wear out their welcome. Thankfully, and I hope you won't consider this a spoiler, there isn't a single werewolf to be found. (Because really, if werewolves and vampires keep hanging out sharing chicks, people are going to talk.) For just over the first half of the book I was absolutely in love with it. Then a spoof character takes a sudden turn toward the path of serious male romantic lead and the book begins to fall apart. 

Initially, Meena appeared to be on my side. She loves handbags, she is completely annoyed with women in vampire lore falling for guys who are obviously abusive and she appreciates a good daytime drama. Meena and I were really getting along. Ok, so she can tell people when they're going to die, but that's just a twist on Sookie Stackhouse and this is a spoof story, right? Suddenly, Meena is perfectly ok with having a much, much, much older lover who talks her into things she had previously refused to consent to. She finds a man who has to fight the impulse to kill her charming, and discovers some of her best friends (well ok more like neighbors) are vampires. The love triangle kicks off, vampire nightclubs appear and vampire showdowns start rolling. Just when you think things can't go farther over the top (or become more conventional) they do. And to reveal how would be a serious spoiler. But it's a bit much, even for a book that leaves absolutely no vampire icon untouched. 

From Love at First Bite to Dead Until Dark: A Sookie Stackhouse Novel, and of course Dracula itself, Insatiable tips it's hat to all of them. Using Stoker's character names to set up the multi-generational star crossed soul mate concept, Meg Cabot takes what started as a promising spoof and ends up with the first chapter of more of the same. It doesn't help that one side of her triangle starts the book as comic relief nor that when Meena's brother begs her not to become one of those women who excuse their abuser you know Meena is already on that path. There is nothing wrong with Insatiable from the stand point of an easy chick lit vampire read, but it disappoints a reader looking for a send up of the vampire craze. (And I don't buy the triangle.)

Review: The Sugar King of Havana by John Paul Rathbone

After reading The Sugar King of Havana I felt empathy for Cuban exiles. That might seem a simple thing to feel, since these are a people who have lost their way of life and (the older generation) largely live in a shadow culture. My relationship with the concept of the exile community is a bit different. It's sort of like being angry at Holocaust survivors - no one is going to sympathize with you because your loss is nothing compared to theirs. There used to be a smaller, sleepier version of Miami. I liked that Miami.

Miami has always been a haven for whatever wave washed up on it's shores. Cuban exiles, Haitian refugees, New York snowbirds, Yankee victors, escaped slaves, mafia retirees, Spanish conquistadors - they all arrive and try to make it 'just like home.' The more recently assimilated invaders send them into the swamps hoping the gators are hungry. (Even the gators have to contend with new neighbors - anacondas have infiltrated the swamp.) Florida changes and changes again. Still, for me, the concept of Cuba is a knee jerk one of infighting and unreasonable expectations. Cuba was a paradise, nothing bad every happened there, Castro is evil and everyone hates him, nothing good ever happened from Revolution, everyone will go back when he dies and the streets will run with liquid gold. To hear some exiles tell it, probably five people live on the entire island and all of them focus their energy on evading the secret police. 

John Paul Rathbone has actually been to Cuba. This is a fantastic thought. People go to Cuba? Cuba is forbidden! It's the no man's land! To even venture near to Cuba's shores is to invite imprisonment or death! Except, it turns out, the Cuban exiles of Miami  represent a very small percentage of Cubans internationally. Most Cubans stayed in Cuba. Many initially supported Castro's revolution because something had to change, and even if they didn't know exactly what would happen it would certainly be better than what they had. Until it wasn't. I imagine if Castro died and the exile community returned home they would be greeted (again) the same way they were greeted here, as strangers with a strange culture bringing things the inhabitants aren't sure they want. 

Using Julio Lobo as the face of Cuba's upper classes Rathbone illustrates why their way of life was destined, by the history of their people, to end. Like many in Cuba, Lobo supported Castro and believed strongly in patriotism over self interest. Lobo was set on the road to exile when idealism and reality collided. The Sugar King of Havana is not only well researched and enjoyable to read, it explains so many things previously inexplicable about the relationship between Cuba and Miami. In doing so it doesn't quite justify a world with The Miami Sound Machine, but it certainly explains the religious fervor of Elian's custody fight. 

Now if someone could do something about hipsters wearing Che shirts, we'd be in good shape.

Review: Bespelling Jane Austen by Mary Balogh, Colleen Gleason, Susan Krinard & Janet Mullany

I suppose, if Jane Austen had to choose between Will Shakespeare's posthumous life or her own, she'd be happy enough with zombies and vampires and sea serpents (oh my).  Shakespeare has to constantly contend with people doubting his authorship, sexuality and existence. Austen has largely enjoyed life on a pedestal as the mother of all things Regency. Much like Mary Balogh. So my reaction to Mary Balogh writing a paranormal was akin to an undiscovered Austen  revealing a sparkly vampire of it's very own. The problem is that while I adore Mary Balogh, I'm not a fan of current paranormal romance. I began Bespelling Jane Austen with some concern.

As it happens, Balogh didn't see herself writing a vampire story either. Her Almost Persuaded deals with reincarnation. It's an interesting experiment that steers clear of paranormal pitfalls other established Regencyland writers have fallen victim to. Instead of changing her style working with reincarnation allows Balogh to progress her characters past their initial discovery phase into a developed relationship. It is a love at first glance tale a bit more physical than Balogh usually tells. My quibbles are minor and rooted more in my opinion of reincarnation itself than the story as told. If certain aspects were developed further, Almost Persuaded could have become a full length novel. It is the second best story in the anthology. 

The best, perhaps most fittingly given it's creator was the most motivated, is Susan Krinard's Blood and Prejudice. Krinard is comfortable with paranormal romance and presents it without hitting any of my aversions. Embracing vampires, she creates a world where skeptical Liz Bennett is surrounded by vampires without a guide to telling the good from the evil. It is perhaps the closest to what we think of when we think of an Austen tale, and it is the most realized world in the anthology. Trying to save her father's company, her sister's heart, and her own equilibrium, Liz Bennett is a heroine worthy of a Mr. Darcy. For these two stories alone I'd read Bespelling Jane Austen.

Colleen Gleason's charming Northanger Castle would have been a fitting close for a shorter anthology. Her overly imaginative heroine sees vampires behind every door, gothic plots at every party, and holds a Nancy Drew disdain for her own safety. Her personal Ned emerges as a man who can use her vampire detection skills. The weight of what seems to be a mythology carried over from other books drags the story down for me. If I were an established fan of Gleason's books I would probably have adored Northanger Castle but without that grounding I simply liked it. 

All good times must come to an end. Unfortunately the book ends as well in Little to Hex Her by Janet Mullany. I am generally a fan of Mullany so it pains me to say that (for me) this tale is a complete miss. If you enjoy paranormal romance then Little to Hex Her will probably be the highlight of the book.  It encapsulated everything I dislike about paranormal romance. Our heroine is a witch babysitting her sister's business in the midst of vampires, warlocks, elves, werewolves, ogres and who knows what else. She has to navigate the social world of Washington D.C. while dealing with a college boyfriend, a saboteur, and a party hook up that left her a bit used. From the 'time of the month' werewolf jokes to the racial profiling (all elves are glamourous, all vampires are cutthroat, you can't trust a.... you get the idea) my buttons were firmly pressed. Without truly resolving the various threads of the plot, the story lurches to it's predestined conclusion leaving the non paranormal reader a bit worse for wear. Which makes this a collection with something for everyone. 

Review: Desires of a Perfect Lady by Victoria Alexander

An unintended effect of Agency Five pricing is that I tend to think about the cost of a book while I am reading it.

Ah, Victoria Alexander. I want to say it's not me, but I don't think it's you either. The whole fiasco with the reissue of Believe being priced twice MMP retail in e-book form means we've been on a break. I missed you while we were apart. I looked forward to our reunion. (Ok, I did wait until I had some Sony gift cards at 25% off so that our time together wouldn't cost me the full eight dollars. I'm sorry. You know how I am. It's hard for me to put myself out there like that.) Look at this cover. This is a cover that says we missed each other. It's time to forget all those silly things of the past and move forward.

Just like Sterling and Olivia.

Granted, they were on a decade long break that involved a nasty dead husband, a second choice wife and a host of water under a very large bridge. We were just, like, busy. Somehow so much of Desires of a Perfect Lady felt perfunctory. (Has it been long enough that we can include some spoilers? I think it has. And if it hasn't, well let this serve as the warning. Avast! Spoilers Ahoy! I know. There weren't any pirates. I felt like saying Avast!) Everyone surrounding Olivia and Sterling is so darn well adjusted. Squeaky scrub cheeked clean even. Where are all their issues? Even when Olivia reveals she's scarred from her experiences it is barely a hitch in anyone's stride. It's the reader who is supposed to roll her eyes at yet another scarred back, not the characters. The only event that promotes any emotional heat is Sterling admitting he sometimes gets behind in opening his mail. Two murder attempts barely register. A young man infatuated enough to propose marriage gets his hopes dashed and his response is to aid his rival. A father's deep dark secret is revealed to a gasp from reader and hero alike. (I'm not sure what Sterling's issue was. Mine was irritation.)

Olivia is embraced by Sterling's mother, by his siblings, by her attorney. She is, in fact, perfect. So perfect that even she scolds a character for acting like another notch on some literary checklist. The Seductive Venetian. (Hm, I think I've read that book!) As luck would have it, Olivia herself has a checklist. Sleeping with Sterling is on it. After all she's been through offstage, Olivia deserves some generic loving, and she gets it. (I flipped ahead. Each time. Hanging out with those two in the bedroom wasn't on my list.) After following Olivia as she solved three impossible tasks before and after breakfast I was primarily interested in who had tried to kill her. One of us should be. Certainly no one in the book was. Really, if my abusive husband was murdered and then twice more (in two countries) someone came after me I might be a bit less eager to establish an independent household and forget all about it. But hey, I'm not perfect - Olivia is. Says so right in the title.

That's the problem with series. They do love their cliffhangers. I have to tune in next time, and maybe all will be revealed. Or not. The important thing is that Olivia and Sterling get their second chance, Sterling's mom gets to shake her moneymaker, and the wedding plans from the prior book roll on. I haven't RSVP'd for the event yet. At five bucks, I'd definitely attend. For six, I'd still show up. Eight bucks? I think I feel a sore throat coming on. I'm going to lie down and see if it passes.

Review: Notes From The Night by Taylor Plimpton

Amazon asked me if I wanted to review this book through their Vine program.

Well, they didn't exactly ask me. 

Ok, it was more like they lined a bunch of books up against the wall and let me take a look at them to see if anyone caught my fancy. I know, it makes us both feel cheap. (In fact, it makes them feel free since I receive an advance read copy in exchange for a review.) The blurbs were fantastic - read this one and tell me what you think!

"This clear-eyed, touching, irresistible account belongs somewhere in with Kerouac, Jay McInerney, and J.D. Salinger."

—JAMES SALTER 

Right? After I got over McInerney being bookended by Salinger and Kerouac, I gave Notes From The Night (A Life After Dark) a closer look. Then something shiny caught my attention and I forgot all about it. I'm like that. Amazon asked me again. Was I sure I didn't want any of these fine fellows they had for my consideration? I took another look. It had one lonely review, and that review assured me the book was a waste of time, profanity laden filth, and worse than a romance novel. 

Profanity laden romantic filth? I'll take three! 

I should sue. Not only did Taylor Plimpton fail to waste my time, at no point was I deceived into thinking I was reading a romance novel. Human relationships in all their complexity were absolutely present, but no one had a secret baby. Nor is he a Greek Shipping Magnate or a Billionaire Boss. He's not even minor English nobility! As far as the cursing goes - I have to honest with you here. I use more profanity placing my lunch order than Plimpton used in the entire book. Instead of what I was promised, there was a beautiful ode to the New York Club Scene and the people who populate it. Plimpton goes out much too late much too often with his friend Zoo, where they stand amidst the beautiful people and wait.  Check out this blurb.

"Plimpton has perfectly captured the elusive something that makes the nocturnal animals slide through the bright lights and dark alleys in search of the moment where everything falls perfectly into place and we belong. The moment where the too tight jacket loosens, the too loud crowd softens, where the feeling of the evening picks you up and takes you somewhere you can't go alone. You're a surfer and the evening is the perfect wave." - Me

It's so good I forgave the use of wife material as a descriptive phrase. I like it. You should too. 

Why Enid Went Electric....

I went digital.

I never thought I'd do it. It wasn't something I thought could happen to me. But there I was, just me and a Sony PRS-505. I looked at it's shiny red case and we ran off together. I would have left a note for MMP (that's what I called him - Mass Market Paperback just seemed so formal) but what would I write it on? How could I be sure that I wasn't writing on paper from the same tree as MMP? That would be like tattooing your goodbye note on your boyfriend's sister. Maybe it was cowardly, but I just slipped him into the local library's book return and went on my way. Surely he'd find someone else. Maybe they'd even put him into circulation.

Like any new relationship, I had ignored the warning signs. 505 had tried to explain his limitations. He had baggage. There was this thing he had going with Adobe, and due to DRM we couldn't just leave her behind. It was going to have to be a Modern Relationship. I sobbed that MMP had never done me like that. MMP let me run the relationship. I told him where to go and he just did it. Sometimes (and I hate to admit this) he'd let my whole family have a turn.

505 reminded me that he could do things MMP never dreamed of doing. His content went much deeper than MMP's and a little bit of Adobe in my life wasn't too high a price, was it? I decided he was right. No relationship is perfect. If I'd understood then that I was starting the long road toward stripping, would I still have done it? I'm not sure. It's too late now. Agency Five came along and 505 told me to do what I had to do if I wanted to stay with him. It's the compromises you make along the way that change you. I'm not sure I can ever trust 505 the way I did when he wooed me away from MMP. But I can't go back.

I've seen too much.

iPad says he can satisfy me he way 505 does. He's too flashy for my taste. Let's be honest - size does matter. I don't think iPad will fit in my purse. Kindle, now there's a guy who knows how to woo me. I tell him I like a slender companion? He takes off some weight. I tell him I won't go below a  6 inch screen? That's his smallest size. I don't know if 505 realizes that when we're together sometimes I'm thinking about Kindle. I try to hide it. After all, I've filled 505 to the brim and forced him to wear an SD card just to keep up with me. He's doing all he can.

505 and I made this little video in the giddy stages. He said he'd never show anyone, or use it against me - but how can I trust that? He'd probably claim Adobe did it. I'm not sure I can trust either one of them since Agency came into our lives. Kindle's all tied up with Agency too, but he doesn't seem happy about it. I'm going to think about it tomorrow. I just wish MMP would stop calling me. I know he's cheaper. I know he hangs out with Hardcover all the time. But we're so over. Why can't he accept that?

In Which Meoskop Comes To A Realization!

Once upon a time, while I was staring in shock at my internet bill, AOL offered me a position reviewing books. Free books and free internet?  Sold. Until one day the perfect storm of flat rate access and a heroine named Blueberry Hill sent me running. (My review was polite, but all these decades later I can still quote my private emotions. This book is an argument against English as a written language.)  Time passed. I was in a bookstore and saw Diane Farr's second or third regency on the shelf. The cover blurb seemed naggingly familiar, as if I'd ... written it. Go me. I waited for my reaction but I felt nothing. Well, nothing but an urge to read another Diane Farr novel. Life went on. I was still a Writer.

Instead of actually sitting down and writing a book, working out a plot, imagining characters, I thought there was some answer that would instill in me a desire to be an author. A desire I still didn't have. Could I do better than Blueberry Hill? Absolutely. Did I want to? It was time to figure this stuff out. Who better to ask about how to avoid Writing than authors?  I'm pretty sure I drove Edith Layton crazy. She explained a lot about the business while gently indicating that maybe I didn't really want to be a Writer? Nora Roberts told me to suck it up and do it, then promptly killed my brother off in a J.D. Robb book. I think she was annoyed. Kay Hooper suggested finding what I wanted to write about then letting the stories unfold. This was pre-Seinfeld, so I had no idea writing about nothing was an option.

Julia Quinn admired my shoe displays, envied my pretzel bites, and explained (on more than one occasion) that the desire to tell a story generally (but not always) comes before the desire to sell it. I told her I like to sell things, actually. She thought I should look into becoming an agent. I can't. I said, I'm a Writer. Everyone says so. We agreed that was a shame. I thought she was absolutely brilliant at selling things, and very fine indeed at telling stories. So I was almost there! Julia moved out of New England. Joe Wallace thought I should keep honing my craft, or something equally gentle. It began to dawn on me that annoying authors wasn't going to make either of us any happier. I kept reviewing. I'd go to this website, I'd go to that website. I told myself I was reviewing books to learn more about how they were constructed, which would lead to a better understanding of what sold. Once I understood what sold, I could work in that direction and not waste my time as a Writer.  (True fact, once you're an author you get letters from prison inmates. I already knew prison inmates. One more way I was building my portfolio!)

Along the way I lost interest in reviewing. Authors liked me, Publishers didn't mind me, but the fans hated me. Why wasn't I supportive? Why did I have to say such snarky things? Didn't I understand how hard it was to be a Writer? Of course I did! That's why I wasn't doing it! I stopped taking or asking for arcs. I didn't maintain a website. I'd put a thing here or there in my blog until Amazon asked if I wanted to join Vine. I dunno, I said - I've sort of done this thing before and I don't really get on well with RWA, and I think authors are just people and omg Blueberry Hill. Amazon told me it was ok, I could choose the books I wanted to read. Suddenly, I was reviewing again. I started reading review sites like Smart Bitches and Dear Author. It wasn't all daisy chains in the meadows and girl scout songs. Reviewing had changed. After a pleading letter where I promised to make a stop motion film and revealed an embarrassing incident from my past involving a toilet, 80's hair and an heirloom bottle opener the Smart Bitches gave me a chance to review an E-Reader . 

( I didn't actually know how to make a stop motion film.) 

Suddenly, I was talking about books again. For my blog, for Amazon, for random strangers about to purchase a copy of Twilight. My brother asked me if I had ever really wanted to be a writer. I realized I had not. Not even a little bit. I didn't want to hold a book in my hands that I had written or share a saga with someone or do a book signing or attend a convention. I just liked authors as people, I liked reading, and I like talking about books. So I am very sorry Mom, friends, customers, baggage handlers, that girl in fourth grade, teachers, and all the other people who want so very, very much to read my first book. I'm not actually a Writer. And I am sorry to all the authors I begged for the secret, who told me the same thing. Being an author is not something a person would choose to be. It's something they are.

PS - Mom, I'm also sorry I wasn't gay. I know that was important to you too.
PPS - If your heroine was the aforementioned Blueberry Hill, um, I'm sorry for bringing it up again and all, um, I'm sure that there were, um, really good parts about the book that I, um, don't remember anymore.

Meoskop, And How She Got Here

Once, a very long time ago (before they invented dirt) there were any number of people who felt I should become a Writer. I can't say I particularly wanted to be a Writer but it was the focus of so many people for so long that I supposed I believed I should want to be a Writer. I liked reading. I liked winning contests at school (the easiest way to do that was writing something bleak and referencing age inappropriate influences). My mother wanted to be a Writer. So I began writing. I wrote short fiction that cribbed heavily from Andre Norton. I embarked on a stunning amount of really bad poems. Then I ran away from home and put it all in my checked luggage. The airline promptly lost it. (It wasn't even proper luggage, more of a large plastic bag with a zipper).

I was so relieved. Sure, everyone else was upset for me. I made sad faces, I bemoaned fate - but now it was gone! All of it! I didn't have to try and edit it or worry about why I didn't love working on it. It was gone. Hands brushed, end of story, all done! A few months later they found it. The airline person that phoned me was very excited. Obviously, I must be heartbroken because he'd taken a look at my binders. I was a Writer, and my work was important. I made all the appropriate expressions of glee. It seemed wrong to take his big moment away by saying what I was really thinking. "Well, hell." Suddenly, I was a Writer again. Even the baggage handlers thought I should be one. Let's count - parents, teachers, friends, baggage handlers. (That's the whole world, right?) Every year from about age nine my mother gave me a copy of whatever that book was writers used to send out packages in exchange for rejection notices. I duly collected my notices while she reminded me that time was running out on My Goal of being a Young Author.

Having run away from home I was no longer under any obligation to collect the notices, so I stopped submitting work. I started working in retail. I liked it. Almost everything about retail was satisfying with the exception of the customers who said I was much too good for retail. So when they asked what my Real Job was I would tell them I was a Writer. It always made sense to them. They could tell I was a Writer! I found that a bit insulting, as I don't particularly care for Writers. I liked authors. Authors were people who grumbled under their breath, walked about in their pajamas and never talked about their work. Writers didn't have anything published and rarely talked about anything but their work. After my mother told me I had missed my chance to the be Youngest Writer it was important to her that I not lose my chance to be an Average Writer, although if I didn't get it in gear I'd have to settle for being a Late Life Writer. Maybe I could write a book for her, since she had much better ideas. Then she could edit it and change what I did wrong, and we could go on a book tour together. (Did I mention I'd already run away from home?)

Obviously, I was going to have to look into this Writing thing a bit more.