Smutty Romance Novels

One of the great things about the public library is that you get all-you-can-read access to those bargain bin harlequin romance novels. I like to think of them as the "thinking man's pornography," which roughly translates into "women's pornography." Zing! They're a good way to unwind. Apparently, as I found out from one of my friends, there's a whole cottage industry of turbo-powered academic women who support this sort of thing - the lesson being that one should take the "guilty" out of the "guilty pleasure" association. At least that's what I'm going to argue.

I haven't gotten acquainted with much of the ouvre, but my few exposures are limited to the bodice-ripping period pieces; I see no reason to expand. Today I picked up a book that told the story of a young lady in the Spanish court who runs away a New World paradise in order to escape the lecherous attentions of Ferdinand and the jealous wrath of Isabella, following her true love who happens to be Christopher Colombus' first mate...

Promising, right? I thought with a story like that the romance couldn't fail - but I was wrong. The consummation happened in less than a page, while the rest of the love scene was filled with fluff about how they're married and love each other, in a way they thought wasn't possible.

So I went back to the book I had started yesterday, which I got tired of because the plot was a little too involved. Girl receives orders from her brother's kidnappers to pay a hefty ransom. Girl turns into a highway robber. Girl robs a viscount, of his heart among other things. Elaborate rescue plot which I wholly skipped over. Viscount's follows his heart and consummates with highway robbing girl (agonizing about how he could break off planned marriage with honor) and on that very night fiancee gets kidnapped by same as brother. Brother and fiancee share cell -

at which point I stopped reading again, because the denouement was so obvious and convenient.

As I left the library, I had a strong urge to get that bad taste out of my system. I promptly went to the bookstore and bought the next installment of the Proust magnum opus. It was one of those reminders today, as to why it is that non-easy books must exist.