In which Tumperkin is very late to the Karen Marie Moning party

This week, you can't stroll through GoogleReader without stumbling upon a few reviews of Karen Marie Moning's latest release, Shadowfever.

It perhaps tells you everything you need to know about me, and this blog, that in that very week, I am posting about The Immortal Highlander, a 2004 book by the same author. You might fairly deduce the following:

- I am well behind the curve of romance reading trends

- I am not fussy about reading series in order (this is 6th in the Highlander series, the one before the Fever series)

- If you want to know what is new and bright and shiny in the world of romance - this is not the blog for you

As it happens, I'm quite glad I randomly picked this one. When I tweeted that I was reading this, RRRJessica mentioned that she'd been unimpressed by the first in the series but had been considering trying a later one and other tweeps commented that they felt the Highlander series only really got going a few books in.

So what did I make of the book? And what's with that picture?

The picture is a Simon Bisley painting of Slaine. Slaine started in the cult British comic 2000AD in the 1980s. Bisley wasn't Slaine's original illustrator, but he was, IMHO, its best. The story, by Pat Mills, brought to life a violent and mystical pagan celtic world. As I read the description of Adam Black, hero of the Immortal Highlander, I thought of Slaine.

The description below takes place over several pages - I've selected certain highlights. The heroine, Gabby, is watching Adam from afar. She knows Adam is fae and has been brought up to believe fairies are soulless and lethal, hence her thinking of him as an 'it'.

Gold armbands adorned its muscular arms, showcasing its powerful, rock-hard biceps, and a gold torque encircled its neck... Its profile was sheer majesty. Chiseled features, high cheekbones, strong jaw, aquiline nose, all covered with that luscious gold-velvet fairy skin...It exuded immense sexuality: base, raw, scorching.... Arms bunched with muscle, thick forearms, strong wrists. Cut abdomen rippling beneath the fabric of its t-shirt each time it shifted position. Powerful thighs caressed by soft, faded denim... Like one of those blacksmiths of yore who'd spent their days at a scorching forge, metal clanging, sparks flying. Possessing massive brawn...There wasn't a spare ounce of flesh on it, just rock-hard male body. It had a finely-honed, brutal strength ... all that rippling muscle ...

And here, much later:

He looked utterly devilish, his black eyes bottomless, ancient cold. Nostrils flared, lips curled in something only a fool might call a smile. He was, at that moment, every inch an inhuman Fae prince, otherworldly, dangerous. This, she realised, was the face of the Sin Siriche Du; the face her ancestors had glimpsed on long-ago battlefields, as he'd watched the brutal slaughter, smiling.

As well as the obvious crossover with Celtic mythology, the picture above and the text share a certain aesthetic: the fetishisation of an aggressively sexual male. The size and musclature of the object is massively exaggerated, his barely leashed violence hinted at. He is brimming with confidence.

The Immortal Highlander is a book in love with its hero. There is whole team of women cheering him on: Gabby, the reader, the author, the other female characters in the book (including the all-powerful fairy queen). We're all invited to admire him and that gave me an interesting reading experience. I felt like I shared a sort of unspoken territory with them. Gabby is our representative, the lucky one that gets to have Adam.

Of course, KMM is not alone in creating this sort of book vibe/ fetishising the hero/ male sexuality. However, it was sufficiently strong in this book to prompt me to articulate these thoughts, so to that extent, it has made a stronger impression on me, I suppose, than other books of this type (or perhaps it is the cumulative effect of a number of these reads that has prompted this post).

As for the rest of the book, I rather enjoyed it. The stakes were built early and high and that always creates a strong sense of promise and excitement. Did I feel that the author then made that promise good? Not entirely.

The story is initially driven by a plot that centres around the efforts of Adam's nemesis, Darroc, on the Fae High Council to dispose of Adam and depose the queen. Gabby becomes embroiled in this and her life is put in peril. At one stage in the book, at the height of this plotline, Gabby and Adam are 'sifting' all over the world, Darroc in hot pursuit. However, once the book enters its final phase (the start of which is them entering warded 'MacKelter land' in Scotland - where I assume the earlier books in the series are set) suddenly Darroc can't reach them, and all that tension simply falls away. There is one final brief scene with Darroc that concludes his part in the story, otherwise that once-central plot is simply folded up like a bit of laundry and put in a drawer while KMM moves on to bringing about the HEA.

That said, I greatly admired KMM's ability to build that early, and I did enjoy her depiction of her over-the-top-so-sexy-grown-women-literally-swoon hero. Which I suppose means that the fetishisation of sexually aggressive males in romance novels does appeal to me. An interesting thought.

Finally, why the book is called The Immortal Highlander, I could not fathom (beyond the obvious answer that it fit the series) since Adam is apparently an alien from another planet who just happens to like Scotland. But there you are.

Will I try another KMM? Undoubtedly.

News just in: another round up post

1. I think there is a range of approaches by bloggers to their readers. Some blogs are very audience focused, others are very blogger focused. (Perhaps, actually, this is a better way - or at least another way - of distinguishing blogs than by focusing on the amateur/professional approach which, for some reason that still escapes me, seems to cause such a furore. Whatever. I mention this only to ask what the view out there is of round up posts.

I realise I've been doing quite a lot of these lately. Posts that consist of 4 or 5 disparate points, maybe a mini-review, a random whinge, an anecdote and a rumination. I do these posts because (a) it's a good way to ensure regularity of posting and (b) I sometimes only have one thing to say about a particular point, but nevertheless, a strong desire to say it.

However, somewhat hypocritically, I'm not a huge fan of round-up posts myself. I've embedded a poll (left). Tell me what you think.

That's my first point in this regular round-up post!

2. LOVING THE KINDLE. Actually, it's getting worrying.

3. In my last post, I mentioned an ebook I'd greatly enjoyed. Let me now mention Alex Beecroft's Shining In the Sun. Beecroft writes M/M, comes highly recommended by Sarah Frantz and RRRJessica, and seems to have something of a nautical bent. The book I was aware of was the much lauded False Colours. But when I came to tap her name into the Kindle Store, it was Shining in the Sun I was drawn to. Why, you ask? Because (*whispers*) I have something of an aversion to historical high-seas shenanigans.

Shining in the Sun is a contemporary and, whilst it features one surfer protagonist and one yachting protagonist, most of the action takes place on dry land, but, with many lovely nods to the sea (the sea - note, I do not say ocean). The sea/coast is used as setting and metaphor (a symbol of freedom). Other nice symbolism too (Darren's hair is gold, his father's is tarnished). And lovely prose. There was a description of Alec's mother (sitting, feet up on her sofa, talking on the phone, playing with her hair) as a mermaid sitting on a "leather boulder" that just undid me. And you know what I really really loved? The way the stakes were set up; the beautifully set up believeable conflict. I felt the truth of the characters' dilemmas. I believed. They were real to me.

4. Once again, I will resist the urge to use this blog as a platform to talk about my job.

5. Do you ever feel like you're trembling on the cusp of some great-almost-within-your-grasp-realisation-of-Something? And you never quite get there?

It wouldn't be make-believe if you believed....

As some of you will know, one of my main preoccupations on this blog is around the reader experience and, specifically, the role of belief. How the reader is absorbed (or not) by the book and the extent to which the reader is doing something active rather than passive. The way readers fill gaps and mentally re-write what they read, innovating and weaving.

When I believe, as a reader, something mystical happens. The stage props shimmer away. It is real.

This song - famously referenced by Tennessee Williams in A Streetcar Named Desire - says it all. The video that goes along with it is really wonderful, a collection of vintage photographs all of which share that 'paper moon' prop. Each one, like a book, has a story and a different degree of credibility. Some really invite you to believe what you see; some are awkwardly posed poor shams. Some are something in between - delightful fakes. Some are extraordinary: the man with one leg, balanced against the moon with his crutch; the man wearing an academic gown around whose head the painted night sky seems suddenly more meaningful.

Watch it and ask yourself this: are you wondering about the stories behind these pictures? Are you weaving?



Say, its only a paper moon
Sailing over a cardboard sea
But it wouldn't be make-believe
If you believed in me

Yes, it's only a canvas sky
Hanging over a muslin tree
But it wouldn't be make-believe
If you believed in me

Without your love
It's a honky-tonk parade
Without your love
It's a melody played in a penny arcade

It's a Barnum and Bailey world
Just as phony as it can be
But it wouldn't be make-believe
If you believed in me

Explaining a favourite's appeal, a brief review and directions to something good

I took a brief rest from the Kindle over the last couple of days to devour an old Lynne Graham trilogy, all previously printed as single categories but borrowed from the library in one pleasingly fat volume.

Lynne Graham quite often writes sets of 3 or 4 books with some link between the heroines but without any character crossover to speak of. This was one of those - 3 childhood friends who all had parents killed and injured in the same car accident. The Frenchman's Love-Child, The Italian Boss's Mistress and The Banker's Convenient Wife. Identikit, if I'm honest, but highly enjoyable nonetheless.

For the last few years, LG hasn't produced much I've loved. In my view 1995-2003 were the golden years and these three books were written on the final cusp of that (1993, 1993 and 1994 respectively).

I mention Lynne Graham quite a lot and one of these days I might try to explain in detail what the appeal is but a big and fundamental part of it is the ease with which she shows heroines being very ordinary, and sympathetic in that ordinariness. Talking about their own flaws in a very relateable way; thinking in a relateable way. I can't imagine I'm the only romance reader with a Mills-and-Boon-Presents-as-crack habit who gets fed up to the back teeth with heroines who seem to be withdrawn, friendless loners hiding reserves of simmering passion that not even they seem to know about.

LG has a few different heroine 'types' she uses, but my favourites are the warm, garrolous ones whose plans to be cool fall at the first hurdle and who win over the exasperated heroes by sheer wide-eyed charm. The Spanish Groom is possibly the high water mark of that trope.

One of the very big things about getting the Kindle is that I can now read ebooks. B.K. (before Kindle) the only way to read these was on the laptop and I HATE reading books on a computer screen - so after a couple of experiments I just didn't buy ebooks anymore. Now I can.

One of my first buys was Past Pleasures by Charlotte Stein, a short, futuristic time travel menage romance(!) I saw it mentioned at Tracy's Place and liked the sound of it/ noted her high grade. Priced at the very reasonable £2.86, I decided to give it a go, and very pleased I was too.

It was only a short read but highly entertaining and very funny; sweet too with a healthy slosh of romance. In short, Kate, a journalist of sorts (it's implicit she is not a successful one) is sent by a scientist a thousand years into the future. There she meets Tem and Aley and discovers that in the future, women are extinct, and have been for 600 years.

I like the way CS approached this story. She didn't try to do elaborate world-building - all the scenes in the future are set in the same closed room which is simply described and she avoids lengthy exposition. The info we get about the future is given out in little segments in bits of dialogue, internal musings etc. Also, the tone is light and humorous so we don't need to feel bad about the plight of our descendents or really examine what the absence of women means for them. This is an erotic read ultimately, so the whole set up is really about putting two men who've never met a woman in a room with her and .... well, letting nature take it's course. But the fact is, there are loads of pretty dismal writers out there who could have written that exact plot and it would have been awful and turgid and embarrassing. So in a way, part of the pleasure of this read was about the relief of it being fun and good - and yes, ultimately touching too. Smashing little read.

I've also picked up Beg Me by Shiloh Walker on the ebook front, which was reccommended various places, e.g. at RRR. I would very much appreciate any other ebook reccs anyone has, particularly given that I have pretty much ignored ebook reviews over the last few years.

Last but not least, I tweeted this, but am linking here too. Sarah Mayberry has a free read over at the eHarlequin website - short story length it seems - told in chapters that are being posted each week day in January. The first five are up. Collectively they are the length of one regular chapter. GO - READ IT! It's really good. I love SM's books and this short little sample of her writing shows why. She's not a showy-check-out-my-prose writer. She's all about the emotions and the stakes and getting that down, believably, onto the page. To me, it feels magical that she achieves that but I can't seen any obvious tricks as to how! I love and envy her.

Captivity narratives in romance

When I think of 'captivity narratives' in romance, I always think of the hero who abducts the heroine. Think The Sheikh. I'm quite a fan of this trope, and the attendant, often quite uncomfortable power dynamics between H/H. However, I've noticed that many readers complain that the eventual connection between H/H might just be down to Stolkholm Syndrome.

Anyway, it occurred to me the other day, when I picked up my old copy of Octavia by Jilly Cooper, that captivity actually comes up in all sorts of forms in romance, and that different captivity plots have very different purposes and effects.

In Octavia, the beautiful model heroine finally has her mettle tested when she is kidnapped with another female character in the book: she has to dig deep to deal with this trauma and to protect the other, weaker captive. This plotline enables the hero, and the reader, to see that there is much more to the seemingly spoiled Octavia than first appears; she is able to demonstrate her own worth, both to others and to herself, via her captivity.

Captivity is also a way of throwing the hero and heroine together in difficult circumstances, forcing them to combine their skills to find a way out of their predicament. A less cosy version of the snow-in. Lynne Graham, a favourite category writer of mine, has a couple of books in which both H/H are kidnapped, the heroines accidentally when they are in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps because of the category word limit (or perhaps because she just wants to focus on the H/H) Graham sneakily arranges for there to be no actual kidnappers around. My favourite is Prisoner of Passion in which the H/H are imprisoned in a trailer together with lots of tinned food and eventually manage to escape.

There's another mutual-captivity trope I like which is where one character is introduced into the other character's prison. For example, in Sandra Schwab's The Lily Brand. The hero is captured and brought to the heroine's home where she is kept a prisoner by her stepmother. I particularly enjoy that the heroine has to play a part to enable the hero's escape that leads to him thinking badly of her and only discovering the truth much later. Similarly, in Anna Campbell's Untouched, the heroine is introduced to the hero's prison. Again, it is the established prisoner who facilitates the escape of the newer inmate. This a very different form of mutual captivity from the "throwing them together" vibe. This trope is about transcending adversity and about the power of self-sacrificing love.

The last type of captivity I want to mention is that of character-isolation, where one protagonist is stuck in some virtual form of prison and finds escape or relief through the efforts of the other protagonist. Like Packard in Carolyn Crane's Mind Games, trapped in a Mongolian restaurant prison that everyone else can enter and leave at will, or Jervaulx, trapped in his own stroke-debilitated body, in Flowers From the Storm, or Emily in Silent Melody, cut off from the rest of the world by her deafness. These characters escape intolerable isolation through love.

So what do you think? Are there other forms of captivity I've missed? And what is your favourite captivity trope? Why?