Thursday, January 19, 2012

In Too Deep (2005) - Ronica Black

I picked up Ronica Black's In Too Deep because it was given wildly positive reviews on a number of lesbian blogs. To which I say - really? Not that I didn't enjoy it (I did! I did! and I find myself thinking of it more than is healthy) but that despite being enjoyable, it isn't a particularly good book. The plot is ok, and not necessarily better or worse than any other lesbian romance novel, but the writing is really hit or miss in places.

Here's the premise - Gabrielle is doing undercover investigative work into the professional and personal life of Xena, the owner of a popular lesbian nightclub slash lovenest for Xena. For reals, I'm not convinced the entire nightclub isn't basically just a really elaborate production intended to ensure that Xena never wants for willing bodies. E.g., she creepily watches the women who walk around her bar via security cam and thus selects her sexual partner for the evening.

Anyway, Xena's suspected of being a murderess who hates men and stuff. So Gabrielle goes undercover as a lesbian to trap her in her web of evil lesbian man-hating lies. HOWEVER. Because loving a woman is intense and mindblowing and emotionally devastating in the best possible way (oh my God, I cannot begin to tell you how much this sentiment - which the novel hammered home - bothered me! just because you have sex with someone does not mean you have to cry or share your feelings or acknowledge your soulbond!), Gabrielle soon discovers that her disguise is in fact not a disguise at all. And that instead of trapping Xena, she has become TRAPPED. Spoiler alert, there's a sequel, and it's called Deeper. (To be reviewed later).

So part of the book is a whodunit, which actually could be pretty interesting if you seriously consider Xena to be a murder suspect. Could Xena have done it? Is this a Xena for the 21st century? (Or a pre-redemption-by-Gabrielle's-love Xena?) It's a question for the ages.

However, most of the book is like this:

"Let me taste you, let me run my tongue up deep into your hive." (Perhaps the literal meaning of "in too deep"? Is there chinning involved?)

"She felt pressure like she needed to pee, yet nothing was happening. With a wad of toilet paper, she reached down to wipe out of habit. The paper slid across her and she brought it back up to examine it. 'What the hell?' She was wet. Not wet from the water, but wet with slick juices. ... 'Oh my God, she whispered to herself as she discovered the abundance of warm silk." (Ew. Not sexy at all).

"I know what happens on leather night. You can't fool me. Did she tie you up? Make you her little suck pig?" (This has become one of my favorite things to say now).

"Patricia eased herself out, and Erin let out a hurried breath at the birth of the writer's fingers." (Again, childbirth = terrible pain! a beautiful miracle and you give the gift of life, yeah, but NOT SOMETHING you want to associate with sexytimes with your special lady!)

"Patricia ... crawled atop Erin like a predator who had hunted for years for this one special prey." (When I get down, I enjoy feeling as if I'm about to be ripped limb from limb by my lover).

This is what made In Too Deep truly special for me. It's not that this language is necessarily different from other romance novels, but while a potentially creepy and unsettling metaphor might be used to describe lesbian lovemaking a handful of times in another book, In Too Deep creates "an erotic sandwich in which she [disturbing metaphors about sex] was the filling." (Also a direct quote. Happy reading).

Rating: one-and-a-half E kisses out of five.*
*ANGIE HARMON APPEARS IN THIS BOOK. SHE GIVES YOU E-KISSES. (When she kisses you, she forces you to take a drug. And yes, Angie Harmon is named. Lololol).

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Jericho by Ann McMan (2011)

As her marriage disintegrates, librarian Syd Murphy retreats to Jericho, an Appalachian town so small that it—gasp!—doesn't have a McDonald's. She meets-cute country doctor Maddie Stevenson, who left behind a rising career in Philadelphia to take over her father's practice/recover from secret pain. Maddie is almost painfully perfect, but her ability to do everything save cook becomes less annoying once you realize this story started life as a Xena uber, and thus Maddie merely has many skills.

I appreciate how McMan takes the time to develop not only Syd and Maddie but also their friends, families, and neighbors. Along that dimension, this is a stronger novel than Dust. However, part of Jericho's length can be attributed to the (frankly unrealistic) eons that pass before Syd learns that Maddie is gay. But once Syd is on board, she and Maddie become insta-married and then, my least favorite trope, insta-parents. If that last doesn't irritate you as much as it does me, this novel is in the 3.5-stars range, but from me, it gets three out of five nigh-kidnapped children. Still, I would read a sequel, if only because a revelation made late in the novel is not developed satisfactorily.

Backwards to Oregon (2007) - Jae

Like Cerulean Lambda, what I most enjoyed about Backwards to Oregon was how slowly the romance between the two central characters developed. I had just finished reading Ronica Black's lolarious In Too Deep, where the main characters (uber-X and uber-G) make eye contact across a crowded room on some enchanted evening and realize that somehow they know, they know even then, that someday they'll see each other's naked sweaty bodies again and again. Who can explain it? Who can tell you why?

Ahem. In Backwards to Oregon, the time it takes for the main characters to Get It On is approximately the same amount of time it takes them to reach Oregon. It's like an Oregon Trail of the heart. (Amazing). If you are a fan of fast-paced, hot and heavy romances, this is probably not the romance novel for you. If, however, you enjoy the slow unfurling of a relationship (I know I do, it reminds me of secret feelings and high school!), you should read Backwards to Oregon. It is, no lie, a pretty great read.

I especially enjoyed Jae's delineation of Luke's character (I would hesitate to identify Luke as a lesbian; for most of the novel, he seems genderqueer). While a lot of historical fiction seems to feature 21st-century lesbians (with 21st century sexual politics!) in 19th-century garb - and Jae occasionally slips up on that front - Jae does a decent job of exploring Luke's gender identity and his sexuality in realistic, thoughtful, and historically sensitive ways.

Anyway, it's good period fiction, even if it isn't always historically accurate. Like my ladyfriend, I strongly recommend this one - it's maybe my favorite lesbian historical romance, and that's saying something.

Rating: An even more magical four out of five wagon wheels. (CHRIS PUREKA MARRY ME). (Ahem, back to business).

Monday, January 16, 2012

Backwards to Oregon by Jae (2007)

It's 1851. The Donation Land Claim Act grants white male citizens 320 acres of land in the Oregon Territory—if they can reach it. Before Luke Hamilton leaves from Independence, Missouri, he decides to marry. Enter Nora Macauley, hooker with a heart of gold. Why is Luke marrying a prostitute he just met? Well, Luke was born Lucinda and hopes that having a wife, plus the potency implied by Nora's young child, will prevent discovery on the way to Oregon.

Luke's passing as a man is handled with more realism here than in the other living-as-a-man novel I read recently, Words Heard in Silence by T. Novan and Taylor Rickard. Also, the trials of the Oregon Trail are pleasantly nostalgic for those who played a certain educational computer game. But what I appreciate most is that the romance is built slowly. The conclusion (true love!) is foregone; the pleasure is in the journey. Jae takes her time developing Luke and Nora, and I came to enjoy them, both separately and as a couple, so much that I want to read the sequel, Hidden Truths. Three-and-a-half out of five axles.

Dust by Ann McMan (2011)

"God. What the hell was she thinking? This woman was so out of her league. She needed to stick with the Liz Burkes of the world—women who gave as good as they got, and never looked much beyond the landscape of their own libidos. They were her ilk. Not Julia. Julia was something else. Julia was like a stray truffle, stuck in a steaming pile of shit beneath one of those Kennett Square mushroom tents. She didn't fit." – Ann McMan, Dust
That simile is courtesy of our protagonist, Evan Reed. When Dust opens, Evan agrees to vet a young senator who has ambitions of running for president. Of course, Evan falls deeply in lust with the senator's estranged wife, Julia, and of course the senator is hiding a secret that could scuttle his presidential campaign before it begins. With its swirl of conspiracies and cynicism, Dust could almost be a neo-noir. As with The Big Sleep, the motivations—even the actions—of the shadowy players are unclear; unlike that film, there's no style to compensate for the lack of substance. Also working against the novel's aspirations as a hardboiled thriller is the romance between Evan and Julia, which progresses to undying love in about forty-eight hours, without their—or, sadly, the reader's—knowing why. Caveats aside, this novel is not bad, precisely: a decent three out of five dossiers.

Dust (2011) - Ann McMan

I not so secretly enjoyed the heck out of Jericho, Ann McMan's previous book. It's a really well-written Xena-uber that follows the blossoming relationship between a small-town doctor and the town's very first librarian. It's worth a read as well as a review, which I'll get to later.

Because I liked Jericho a lot, I had even higher expectations for Dust, especially since Jericho was McMan's debut novel. Anyway. One of the reasons that Jericho worked really well for me was character development - there was a small cast of characters, the book actually gave the would-be lovers relationships with people in the outside world (shock! gasp!) rather than marooning them on their own totally insular island of love.

Dust is structured similarly - there are family bonds, friendships, and links to vast conspiracies that the heroines must negotiate in order to escape the novel together. What made Dust different (and less enjoyable for me) was that I felt like the supporting cast in Dust was less well-fleshed out. Part of this was the fault of the suspense (sub?)plot, which was often confusing and opaque; this made it more difficult to determine what characters' motivations were, or what their motivations meant for the progress of the novel. There were too many plot lines that weren't fully articulated or even resolved - this left me questioning the purpose of some of the characters and their relationships with one another.

This was the novel's biggest failing for me. Dust wasn't a bad read - just a confusing one. If there's a sequel in the works, I suspect it would simplify matters a bit. McMan's a good writer, though, and her characters are a lot of fun. While Dust was not to my taste, I liked Jericho and would definitely read future works by her.

Rating: Three kitties out of five. Which is still a lot of kitties.

The Honesty Room: A Womanifesto

I read a lot of lesbian romance novels. A lot.

Mostly this is because my girlfriend and I are both in graduate school, so it's easy to sit on the couch and pretend I'm reading about Renaissance poetry when I'm really reading about uber-Xena and Gabrielle and their adventures in healing secret pain and saving the world at the same time.

But what do you do if you want a change of pace? I've scoured the web for lesbian book reviews, and while a lot of great sites are out there, there aren't nearly enough. And sometimes reviewers are relentlessly positive about the genre (a genre I really love!), which is great, but every book isn't the best lesbian romance ever. And I wish I could know in advance if a book is going to be predictable or lulzy or totally historically inaccurate or full of gaping plot holes, because every time I have high expectations for the best book ever, and instead read a story that uses "nubbin" in its sex scenes, my heart breaks a tiny little bit. And let's be honest, I'm going to buy it and read it anyway, because I love reading lesbian romance novels. I just want to know what to expect.

This tendency to shy away from being critical is understandable, given that there aren't enough lesbian romances, and I understand not wanting to create a hostile environment for LGBT writers and readers. There need to be more. So, initial disclaimer - I'm going to honestly review what I read. My ladyfriend, an avid reader herself, will do the same, but since we haven't merged entirely and don't yet share a brain (yet!), our reviews will probably be very different.

Take our advice into account, and spend your money buying good lesbian romance novels, dammit.