WARNING: The following post contains a lot of swearing and bitching and complaining. Not to mention major spoilers for a terrible romance novel that was written in 1991 that you'll probably never read.
Ever start a book and two pages or so in you realize, "Wow. WOW. I am
NOT going to like where this is going."
What do you do if you come across that situation? Do you keep reading to confirm you were right in your realization? Do you keep reading, hoping it will prove you wrong? Do you stop reading?
This situation has happened to me.... five times. The last time it happened, it was for the book
A Lion Among Men. I think that's the title. The third book in the Wicked series. I can't be bothered to make sure I'm right with the title. The time before that? Was for
Wicked. Ha. Pretty early on I realized this was
not a book I'd enjoy, and yet I continued reading. I really wished I hadn't. My realization was confirmed and, to this day, various images from the book still haunt me in my head - much like a scene from a scary movie does.
The second book was only slightly better. At the very least, no image haunts me. Ha. And then, since I'd managed to read through two of the three books, I thought, why not read the third? I... did not get far in
A Lion Among Men. In fact, I might have blogged about it in the past - the dilemma. Continue reading a book when I didn't even enjoy the previous two? Or stop? In the end, I realized that I really hated the first, the second is only considered "slightly better" because I don't hate it as
much as the first, and the third one looked to be headed in the same direction. I'd grown impatient with the series. Frustrated. Plus, it was a library book. When it came due, I did not check it out again. I let it go, and will probably never finish reading it.
Sadly though, of the five instances, A Lion Among Men is the
only book I actually managed to put down. The only one I let go. The other three? Were romance novels. And I read all of them.
In high school, I felt the urge to read a book. Not an assigned one, just one... for fun.
(And by fun, I wanted something light, where I didn't have to think. I... didn't do much thinking in high school. ROFL) But I didn't want to borrow a book from the library. I wanted my own book. Mine. But... I also didn't want to buy a book. I didn't know what genre I wanted, and didn't feel like taking a gamble on one with my not-earned, meager allowance. So I went online. And searched "free books".
Jackpot. Not really. Only one site looked promising. The rest had conditions and surveys and junk. This particular site offered one of those "Two free books! No required purchase! Just send back the invoice with CANCEL written on it!
(else we'll just keep sending you books, and thems ain't free...)" It was a romance novel site, and they offered two books:
Circle of Gold by Diana Palmer, and
The Fall of Maggie Brown by Anne Stuart. One was Silhouette Romance, the other Harlequin.
(Though I don't think that matters, I have a suspicious feeling both companies are one and the same. Sorta like all those "Teen Beat" magazines that were popular fifteen years ago.) And I loved them.
They were perfect. There was conflict, tension, conflict, kissing, conflict, sex, conflict, and then a happy ending!! BOTH OF THEM worked that way! HOORAY!
I fell in love with romance novels. And one day, I confessed this to a friend in my chorus class... and she admitted to liking them too! Not only that, but she had purchased almost
200 old rom novs in bulk from the library a long time ago, and since she was done reading them,
she gave them to me!!! OH HAPPY DAY!
I still have not finished my stash of rom novs. I have since moved on to different genres. But occasionally, when I'm feeling like a light read, I'll pull one out. More often than not, I'll pull one I've already read. Which is... counter productive, but about 7 of them are actually favorites - a series of five, and the first two I got for free, so those are the ones I reread.
But anyhoo... I'm rambling. Back to the topic at hand.
I came across a Rom Nov, that I actually
disliked. There's a difference between "Passion" and "rape". And one story sounded way too much like rape to be comfortable. I truly hated it. So much so... that I
threw the book out. I couldn't stand to think I might pick it up again. But I still had hope. I had another book by the same author. So I read that one. Same. Fucking. Problem. And yet I still read through to the end. For both books. So this time? I tore it to pieces. It was... odd. To tear a book you hate to pieces. I had kept a page with her name on it, so I'd know for future reference should I ever come across her books again. I think I still have that page somewhere too. Jacqueline something. That's not specific, but might make me think twice before picking up a book by a Jacqueline.
So now I've talked about four of the five books. And here comes the last one.
(In case you hadn't noticed, this is a rambling entry. Beware LOTS more rambling on this ONE book)
YEARS ago, I'd read a romance novel I disliked. Deeply. We're talking, deep seeded hate. I think it was because the heroin in the story gets basically raped. At 17.
And I was 17 when I read it. It disturbed me. And I always remembered a few scenes from it. A couple years later, I had mentioned the story to Mingo, who agreed it sounded terrible. Basically, from what I remembered, she's basically raped, and then she encounters him years later, he's an asshole, and turns out they've been in love since the day of the rape.
(sorry, I've totally spoilt it for you. You're WELCOME) Even after this terrible synopsis, Mingo still wanted to read it for herself. And I was like "hey, you wanna waste your time on it? fine by me." But...
I COULDN'T FIND THE BOOK. Had I thrown it out? There was only one place I'd kept my books... and it wasn't there. I apologized to Mingo, and assured her I'd lend it to her once I found it. But I didn't. And then we moved. And I
still didn't find it.
Did I forget to pack it? Did it get left behind at the old house? I don't even remember what it looked like anymore... was the book as bad as I remembered? Did it even exist at all? Figment of my imagination?
Friday night, I was rummaging through stuff in the basement for something to use for my Hank card... and I found it. I didn't know I did, but I did. I'd found a box of my romance novels that, for some reason or another, weren't packed with the rest of them. So I grabbed them all and brought them upstairs. Yesterday morning
(while I was waiting for the PO to open) I read the backs of all of them to see if I wanted to read any... and
there it was. So I read that while waiting. And immediately got frustrated at it. That might have been a major reason why I chose to go to the PO at 7 and not 830. I couldn't bring myself to read anymore. Not when I was already tired. No. Just... no.
But then I went back last night and read the rest. Awful. And yes, my original synopsis was correct. Here's the whole terrible story:
She's 17 and, on a dare, ends up skinny dipping in a pool to fetch a shell from the middle. She gets caught by a thirty year old man, who manhandles her
(Okay, I get that, she's in the pool that's not hers, stealing a something that's not hers. Sure, he's mad) until he realizes she's naked. So what does he do? What else? Sex. She's a virgin. Until then. And she's utterly traumatized by it. She starts trembling violently, and he, thinking she's cold, wanders off to fetch her a sweater. So she runs.
A WEEK LATER, after little sleep and more trembling, she encounters him again,
(recognizes his build and voice) sitting on her veranda, talking buddy buddy with her grandfather. She's mortified, and decides he mustn't know it was
her. She runs off to go swimming and eventually decides she can't live there anymore and moves back to London.
(She was in Jamaica) THREE YEARS LATER,
(though the book says four... I swear this writer can't count...) she's living in a flat with two roomates. She's mousy, wears sunglasses wherever she goes, loose fitting clothing, won't let men NEAR her. And then she encounters him again. He saves her from a terrible situation which probably would have resulted in gang rape.
(Though, from the point of view of this writer, it might have been a passionate love scene with multiple people) But instead of asking if she's okay, he accuses her of being a whore and a slut and a stripper and junk.
A bunch of shit goes down, including more angry violent manhandling, and then her grandfather dies, and in his will,
names the man as her legal guardian until she's twenty one.
(which is only six months away or so) So he's all manhandly and violent and angry for that time. And she's a brat. A fucking brat. She's childish and idiotic. INCREDIBLY STUPID. She ends up in
ANOTHER fucking situation that could have involved rape, and he ends up saving her
again. More manhandling, and he's now deserted the both of them on an island he owns in Jamaica for a month. During that time,
she realizes she
loves him.
(WHAT THE FUCK?!!?!!?)
Yeah. So she's in love with him. And
that's the reason she never got near any men. Because the man who'd raped her years ago was the man for her. I bet that explains why she trembled all the time and gets terrified and loses sleep and wears loose clothing too.
Because she loves him.
She turns 21, goes back to him, they spend the night having sex. And he
leaves. So
she leaves.
And like, a year later, she's become a star in a musical, and he's there, and apologizing for the rape, and she's saying it wasn't rape and that she totally wanted some random shadowy man making love to her that night and oh she loves him too.
And he's all like, "OMG I've loved you since that night too!! SURPRISE! I've known it was you since that day we met again on your veranda! And it hurt me so much to know I raped you and you hated me and I lost the only girl I'd ever love that I decided that instead of immediately apologizing for what I'd done, it was easier for me to be a violent asshole who kept accusing you of being a whore! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!"
And then she's like "I'll probably be in this musical for at least one more year, so we'll have to hold off on the honeymoon, but that doesn't mean we can't get married now!"
Fin. *shoots self in head*
I just... yes. I just ruined the entire story for you. I know... I know you were dying to read it. But really, I just saved you the trouble. The
entire time I was reading it I was making my own remarks. I shall now type out an excerpt and add my thoughts. Their names are Brand
(short for Brandon) and Fliss
(short for Felicia). And the book uses ' instead of " for quotes. Aren't you in for a treat?
[just after he'd saved her from yet another almost rape]
'Cover yourself up.'
(fucking asshole. She was almost just RAPED and you're already giving her shit.)
She was unaware that Brand had returned until she heard his voice.
(Of course you wouldn't notice, you're traumatized) As she gazed blankly at him he snatched up the smock dress, throwing it at her, and gratefully she pulled it down over her head, drawing her hair clear with unsteady hands.
(He couldn't have HANDED it too her? Twat.) When she looked up again he was staring out of the shutters, his back turned to her, and the fixed rigidity of that back terrified her almost more than Al's assault had done.
(Just get up and leave Fliss. Quietly. Go. NOW.)
'Brand, I..."
(damn it all, she's not leaving.) she began shakily, then broke off abruptly as he turned slowly to face her. He regarded her for long minutes, and his expression made her very heart tremble.
'What do you want?' he asked stonily.
(WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN WHAT DOES SHE WANT?!!?! She could... oh I don't know... be THANKING YOU FOR SAVING HER FROM SOME RAPEY ASSHOLE?!! Or MAYBE she could be WAITING for an APOLOGY from ANOTHER certain RAPEY ASSHOLE!!!11!1!)
[Blah blah blah shit blah, she silently gets upset and puts her knuckles to her mouth.]
'What's the matter with you?'
(ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!! SHE WAS ALMOST RAPED YOU INSENSITIVE PRICK!!!!)
I want you to hold me close.
(Oh for fuck's sake) 'I-I feel sick.'
(Of COURSE you do. Now that's understandable. You were just assaulted.)
'A common symptom, my dear -- of thwarted sexual desire.'
(You've GOT to be fucking kidding me...)
[Blah blah blah shit blah, let me call you a whore again, then violently manhandle you as you try and run for safety.]
(Contemplates suicide, and leaving a note stating this book as the reason.)
Okay. Okay, I think I've said my peace. Possibly. Okay, maybe not, but I'm really tired. I ended up waking up way early
(compared to when I went to sleep. lol) because I'd forgotten I told my sister-to-be I would go dress shopping with her. I had fun, and I have pictures. But... another time.
(Also, Mingo, if you still read this, I dunno if you remember you wanted to borrow this god awful book, but um... I found it! So if you'd still like to...)
