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Dear Author
Dear Author:
Please do not be using the Meg Ryan School of Thorazine-Flavored Obsession as the model for your central romance. After bitching out a guy three times and kissing him once, it is not normal, much less romantic, for your heroine to go stalking out of a restaurant and sulk in the car simply because he chatted (not chatted up) in a friendly manner with the waitress.
It's even creepier that she used her excuse of a morning jog to track his car down so that she could throw an even bigger fit when she sees that he wasn't hanging around the hotel for the heroine to throw bitchfit #17 at him. Sweetie, most men would be looking for other company when the nutbag they're trying to work with has an attitude of "Fuck off. No, I don't want to work with you. You talk funny. Okay, we'll do it your way because I need the money. Fuck off. *smooch* Fuck off. Nothing's wrong, I'm FINE!"
On the other hand, I suppose you have to do something to keep her occupied, because she's the world's suckiest sleuth. I mean, the last three clues were all but served on a silver platter by a butler saying "Your afternoon clue, madam?" while it sat there on the tray flashing CLUE CLUE CLUE in neon lights. And yet the bimbo you're trying to hang your plot on doesn't even bat an eyelash.
Your other series has a fair amount of charm and some decent plotting (except for that one big problem that I bitch about every review, but other than that...) So I was really surprised to discover that your character sheet for the latest heroine included neither maturity nor functioning brain cells.
Oh, and that "cute" bit where the guy got rid of his one-night stand by screaming "FIRE, FIRE, EVERYBODY OUT, I'm RIGHT BEHIND YOU!" and slamming the door in his panicking inamorata's face? Not so funny as you seem to think.
And I even paid for this one, so I truly mean it when I say No love and I'm going to be rethinking your other series,
Me
ETA: OMG, it gets WORSE! She's just started drawing attention to how she's the stupidest cat burglar *ever,* by rifling through an office, leaving the stuff she looked at *out* and then putting the originals in her pocket and copies in the file folder. While she was at it, she might as well have written "LOOK HERE FOR EVIDENCE OF ESPIONAGE" on it!
It's a good thing this chick is fictional, because anyone living who's that brain-damaged should be on life support.
Now I'm glad I bought this one, because if I was the one who asked for the publisher copy, I'd be honor-bound to try to review it. And I don't think Roget's has enough synonyms for "stupid."
Please do not be using the Meg Ryan School of Thorazine-Flavored Obsession as the model for your central romance. After bitching out a guy three times and kissing him once, it is not normal, much less romantic, for your heroine to go stalking out of a restaurant and sulk in the car simply because he chatted (not chatted up) in a friendly manner with the waitress.
It's even creepier that she used her excuse of a morning jog to track his car down so that she could throw an even bigger fit when she sees that he wasn't hanging around the hotel for the heroine to throw bitchfit #17 at him. Sweetie, most men would be looking for other company when the nutbag they're trying to work with has an attitude of "Fuck off. No, I don't want to work with you. You talk funny. Okay, we'll do it your way because I need the money. Fuck off. *smooch* Fuck off. Nothing's wrong, I'm FINE!"
On the other hand, I suppose you have to do something to keep her occupied, because she's the world's suckiest sleuth. I mean, the last three clues were all but served on a silver platter by a butler saying "Your afternoon clue, madam?" while it sat there on the tray flashing CLUE CLUE CLUE in neon lights. And yet the bimbo you're trying to hang your plot on doesn't even bat an eyelash.
Your other series has a fair amount of charm and some decent plotting (except for that one big problem that I bitch about every review, but other than that...) So I was really surprised to discover that your character sheet for the latest heroine included neither maturity nor functioning brain cells.
Oh, and that "cute" bit where the guy got rid of his one-night stand by screaming "FIRE, FIRE, EVERYBODY OUT, I'm RIGHT BEHIND YOU!" and slamming the door in his panicking inamorata's face? Not so funny as you seem to think.
And I even paid for this one, so I truly mean it when I say No love and I'm going to be rethinking your other series,
Me
ETA: OMG, it gets WORSE! She's just started drawing attention to how she's the stupidest cat burglar *ever,* by rifling through an office, leaving the stuff she looked at *out* and then putting the originals in her pocket and copies in the file folder. While she was at it, she might as well have written "LOOK HERE FOR EVIDENCE OF ESPIONAGE" on it!
It's a good thing this chick is fictional, because anyone living who's that brain-damaged should be on life support.
Now I'm glad I bought this one, because if I was the one who asked for the publisher copy, I'd be honor-bound to try to review it. And I don't think Roget's has enough synonyms for "stupid."
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What were you thinking it was?
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Maybe you should do something about that...no subject
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(I was going to guess Meg Cabot for the author of the offending book. Instead it's someone I've never read. Can't say I'm finding that a source of regret.)
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Here, fished the rants out of the list. More than I realized I had, must have opinions on this subject! :>
The one about Meg Ryan Thorazine-flavored Romance It's called personal responsibility, Hollywood, and even in a feather-light unbelievable comedy it's refreshing. Meg and Robin only ever think of themselves; whatever they do to others (including the man!) is justified in the face of their obsession. Sandra worried about other people - she worried about hurting them physically, about hurting their feelings - as much as she worried about her own needs, and her own job.
The "If a man loves a woman, he won't fuck her over" rant There is no excuse for this shit. THERE IS NO EXCUSE WHATSOEVER to present rape, ruination, and lying as love. All that we needed was for him to hit her and we'd have the classic trilogy of abuse - "Baby, you make me so crazy, I just can't help myself," "Baby, why you question me?" and "Baby, why you make me hit you?"
This isn't love. This isn't even in the same zip code as love. Not even the same freakin' time zone.
The women written by men rant I've now read two books for RtE but cannot find a way to write the review without going off on a long, angry tangential rant, because both books have one huge problem - the male authors have written a female main character that this female doesn't recognize as a member of her species, much less her gender.
Chick Lit Bitching, Part 1 Men. Hanging onto (or bettering) your place in the pecking order. Family. Fulfilling social expectations vs your own dreams. Love. Reputation.
How do these themes end up being so fantastic when they're handled by Jane Austen, Elizabeth Gaskell, and Edith Wharton, and so damned annoying when they're being flung around by modern authors? I want to like chick lit. Books like Trading Up, Lipstick Jungle, Admissions and the ilk keep catching my eye. But then I pick up the latest in buzzworded bestsellers (The Jane Austen Book Club, The Devil Wore Prada, Elegance) and it's usually a matter of minutes before I'm clawing at my eyes.
Chick Lit Bitching, Redux It wouldn't be so bad, if the contents weren't becoming equally dumbed down. Much as I like the Undead and... series, the "novels" are really novellas. Even printed in 12-point type with 1.5 line spacing, there are barely 250 pages to each one. Karasyov and Kargman, who are building a career out of rewriting classic women's literature as Park Avenue social climbing, can barely milk 300 pages out of their inspirations. The Right Address is Rebecca - only 80 pages and several subplots shorter.
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Working in a bookstore, the biggest gap in my product knowledge is this particular form of 'women's fiction'. I've tried to read a few, but always end up throwing it across the room and weeping for my gender.
*goes off to read all your rants*
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I teach high school, am here via
"And I don't think Roget's has enough synonyms for "stupid." "
pretty please?
a lovely snark of a review, enjoyed it muchly.
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