"Lord Sin," by Kalen Hughes

The Chick: Georgianna "George" Exley, the wealthy, beautiful, and fiery widow who eats scandal for breakfast. She shoots, gambles, and parties hardy with a cadre of devoted male friends.
The Rub: Keeps a house chock-full of beefcake, and maintains an iron-clad rule that no man sleeps with her for more than one night. Also, while she has a habit of doing and saying whatever she wants, most of the rumours about her are untrue.

The Dude: Ivo Dauntry, lately returned from six years' exile on the continent, has come back to England to reunite with his family and take up the title of Earl after his cousin's death.
The Rub: Ivo got banished to continent after he killed an aristocrat in a duel over George's honour, only to return and find out she's hardly the meek, modest woman he was expecting.

The Plot:
Ivo: Grr! I can't believe I wasted six years defending the honour of a woman who keeps lovers only for one night! What a strumpet! How DARE she not conform to the feminine ideal! How DARE she not adhere to my standards even though she didn't even know me when I killed a man in her name! Ha! I know - I'll marry her! That'll show her!

George: Hey, baby. How's it been? Wanna spend the night?

Ivo: I'LL TAKE SIX!

George: How about NO.

Ivo: How about I kiss you very hard until you say YES?

George: .... alright.

George's Sexy Man Friends: *not amused*

Alloted Nights #1, 2, 3: George: YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES....

Evil Frenchman: Whore! You killed mon pere! *strangles wrong woman* *botches assassination attempt* *shoots at George and misses* Merde!

George's Sexy Man Friends: OHNOEZ! Hurry and put our feisty, willful woman under lock and key so that she will be protected and safe!

George: No, really, you don't need to...

Evil Frenchman: Die, whore, die!

Ivo: Oh no you don't! *draws sword*

Evil Frenchman: *draws pistol*

Ivo: Shit.

George: *shoots Frenchman*

Ivo: .....

George: ... My hero! *marries*

Romance Convention Checklist
1 Best Friend With Too Many Children

1 Male Harem

1 Dirty Old Man

1 Marriage Proposal (refused)

1 Matchmaking Relative

1 Evil Frenchman

1 Sexual Act in an Inappropriately Public Place

1 Case of Bringing a Sword to a Gunfight

The Word:Ivo Dauntry's been dreaming of the same woman for the last six years. Six years ago, Ivo caught a drunken aristocrat pawing a married woman and killed him in a duel, earning him banishment and separation from his family. Although he missed his home and family, Ivo's spent the last six years convincing himself that, ultimately, he did the right thing in protecting the honour of a modest English wife.

So imagine his unpleasant surprise when he shows up in England to catch that same woman - Georgianna Exley, or "George" to her adoring and predominantly male fanbase - hanging out at a boxing match, flirting outrageously with a man she's not married to, and maintaining a house that's part gambling hall, part boy's club, and part Playboy Mansion.

Ivo flares with resentment over the six years apparently wasted defending the honour of a woman who never appeared to have any in the first place. He's also offended that his sacrifice meant so little to her that she never bothered to live a decent, proper, unscandalous life for his sake - an irrational offense to be sure, seeing as Ivo and George barely knew each other before the duel was fought, but one Ivo feels all the same. However, his attitude changes when he finds out George is a widow - why, then she's fair game, and Ivo is determined to seduce her into a more proper, permanent arrangement.

But Ivo's not completely right about George. She's not one of those common rakish characters who are outrageous and scandalous for the express purpose of causing outrage and scandal. Her main crime is doing as she pleases, when and where she chooses to do it. She shares a warm relationship with her in-laws, babysits her friend's kids, and tends a swarm of men who are all happy with her the way she is. She doesn't defy ... she simply ignores. And while the scandal sheets are far too eager to label her a slut, she maintains her own special rule: she never keeps a lover for longer than one night.

When she and Ivo reunite, she's instantly attracted to him, but offended by his insistence that she owes him big-time for the outcome of the duel. The duel that sent Ivo out of the country also nearly ruined her (and weakened her relationship with her husband), so she's hardly pleased when Ivo demands compensation. His wheedling (among other things) eventually persuades her to upgrade him from one night of pleasure to six (for the six years in exile), but after that, that's it. She's done. Unbeknownst to her, Ivo's already planning how to make those six nights so good she'll extend the deadline indefinitely. Through marriage, ideally.

This book was a bit of a mix for me. I'd read quite a bit of reviews on the book (along with its sequel, Lord Scandal), and all of them emphasized how outrageous (truly, truly, truly outrageous) George is, but I didn't feel the novel delivered. Maybe I'm influenced by contemporary morals, but while George did bend rules and social norms, she hardly seemed the most scandalous person in the book. I guess by reading the reviews, I was expecting one of those loud and obnoxious (not to mention anachronistic) feminist characters who thwarts convention for the purpose of throwing it in the chauvinistic, patriarchal social establishment's face. Shows up at parties in pants, dallies with married men, hosts weekly orgies, intervenes in the upbringing of girls to teach them about sheepgut condoms and education etc. etc.

However, this wasn't a drawback for the novel. Far from it - George was rather lovable. I found it interesting she received such a nasty reputation just from doing what she wants in her own house and on the estates of her friends. She doesn't set out to hurt people, she doesn't interfere in other people's affairs, and she never flirts with men who are already married or engaged. Best of all is that she doesn't flaunt herself in society in order to incite social change or some such nonsense. She keeps herself surrounded by friends and family (including her in-laws!) who genuinely enjoy her company and respect her person and she's satisfied with that.

Actually, it was Ivo that I didn't like. I found his whole mantra of "She's mine, no one else's, she's mine, she just doesn't know it yet" incredibly annoying. I mean, I like that there's a gender reversal of the "rake and prude" plot, but I found Ivo's whole "mindlessly pleasure George until she does everything I ask" strategy pretty damn offensive. He spends most of the novel standing around looking pissed while George does her thang with her sexy man friends, which made me wonder why he even wanted to marry her. Their first reactions to each other when one of them walks in the room are always lust first, not love. Not "oh wow, he's here, my heart's so full" but more like "ouch! my nipples/penis!"

I think if he really loved who she was he'd stop thinking of her as belonging to him, and more of him belonging to her. And I think that was my main problem with the novel, was that I couldn't buy George's feelings for him. I get that he's crazy attractive and a god in the sack, but, well, that's not love. George is a free-willed character who's had sex before, probably good sex before, but almost all of her reactions to Ivo's presence are physical. She's horny, we get it, but what parts of him does she like that aren't ten inches long and engorged with blood?

I read the book and saw a man affronted with a woman's freedom and determined to curb it to his will, who succeeds. Fantastic. It wasn't George who needed to be tamed, in my opinion, but Ivo. C+.

"Wicked Ways of a Duke," by Laura Lee Guhrke

The Chick: Prudence Bosworth, an overworked and underpaid seamstress who unexpectedly inherits her long-lost father's gargantuan department store fortune, under the stipulation that she marry within the year.
The Rub: She's the illegitimate child of a poor baronet's daughter and a man who ran away to America (and struck it big). Her grasping and neglectful relations, who never cared much about her when she was still the inconvenient bastard, swoop down out of the blue once she's made her millions to take over the responsibility of introducing her to society - and by society, they mean Prudence's dull cousin Robert.

The Dude: Rhys de Winter, Duke of St. Cyres, an indolent, pampered aristocrat just returned from a scandalous tour of the continent to confront a mountain of debt and no money to pay it off with.
The Rub: Where to start? His father died a coke addict, his mother was a slut, his little brother hanged himself when he was twelve, and his Uncle Evelyn liked to played a mean game of Animal Grab...

The Plot:
Prudence: Life is so hard, I wish I were rich!

Lawyer: Congratulations! Your father is dead! You're a millionairess! As long as you find a husband within the year!

Prudence: Holy CRAP! Uh...I wish I had a sexy suitor?

Rhys: Do I smell money - er, I mean, beauty? Hey, baby.

Prudence: This is awesome - how many more wishes do I get?

Prudence's Grasping, Neglectful Relations: WE DO NOT APPROVE! The Duke of St. Cyres is broke! He's only after your money! He's a cad! And worst of all, he's not your cousin Robert!

Prudence: I don't care! I love him! I just wish I could know more about him.

Friend of Rhys' Who Shows Up At the Worst of Times: Like how he knew about your money from the start?

Prudence: .... Dammit! *breaks engagement*

Rhys: Prudence! I'm troubled! I'm a victim of childhood sexual abuse! And I love you!

Prudence: Damn that sexy troubled past! Fine, we'll marry, but against the stipulations of the will so we won't get any money!

Rhys: Fine with me. We'll survive on our love...

Prudence: PSYCH! We're still rich!

Rhys: ... love spread in caviar, dipped in gold and stuffed with sugared OWL BABIES! HOT DAMN!
Romance Convention Checklist:
1 Righteously Redeemed Rake

1 Heroine with Weight Issues

2 Very Bad Parents

2 Uncles with Unconventional Sexual Proclivities

1 Love Train

4 Gold-digging Relatives

2 Cameo Appearances from Previous Gurhke Characters (Emma and Harry! Hurrah!)

2 Trips to the Fishin' Hole (for fishing, you pervs!)

1 Romance Involving Secondary Characters (servants need love too)
The Word:This is the second book in Gurhke's Girl-Bachelor series (which began with And Then He Kissed Her, and I think continues with The Secret Desires of a Gentleman), which seem to involve the tenants of a respectable ladies' lodging house run by the loyal Mrs. Morris.

Prudence is a lowly seamstress, earning her keep as best she can, and aided by a tiny allowance from relatives she hasn't seen for eleven years. She's right in the middle of getting bitched out by a nasty heiress while fixing her dress when rakish Duke Rhys de Winters shows up and plays the gallant card. Later that evening, she also witnesses him rescue a maid from being raped by a boorish peer, and leaves convinced of his heroism but certain no duke would deign to notice a seamstress.

However, unbeknownst to her, Rhys happily beds that same grateful and willing servant without a second thought. Rhys has spent that last few years using up his inheritance partying hardy in Europe, and has come home to find that his deceased Uncle Evelyn used up the rest. He's dirt poor, and while he can get by by shamelessly mooching off of his incredibly tolerant friends, he realizes that sooner or later he's going to have to marry an heiress or lose everything.

Prudence, meanwhile, gets smacked on the head with a Plot Device: her father, i.e. the man who abandoned her pregnant mother without marrying her, has died an obscenely wealthy man in America, and having had no other children, has left all of his fortune to her, under the stipulation that she marry within the year. Prudence thinks it's a dream come true -- for about five minutes. And then her Aunt and Uncle, who couldn't have cared less about her when she was just the poor family illegitimate, arrive in town with the aim of introducing her to society, all the "right people," and all the while keeping Prudence close to her limp noodle cousin Robert.

Rhys, shopping for heiresses at the opera, spots Prudence in the audience and is informed by a friend of his of Prudence's sudden good fortune. Dimly remembering their first encounter, he introduces himself and pretends ignorance of her changed situation. Prudence, of course, has already developed a high opinion of him and is delighted by his attentions, even more so because he doesn't appear to know about her money. Ironically, her grasping relations (entirely unaware of their own gold-digging tendencies) know exactly what St. Cyres is after.

So begins their courtship - with Rhys manipulating, spying, lying, and even blackmailing to maintain the charade until at last Rhys and Prudence are engaged. It is here, of course, that the story gets interesting. Prudence is head over heels for Rhys from the start, but it is Rhys who begins to change as he begins to fall in love with her. However, through his admittedly underhanded means of obtaining her affection, he's dug a mighty big hole for himself, and when the hammer comes down, it comes down hard.

This book impressed me in many ways, and in many ways also disappointed. First, the good parts: Rhys is finally a rake who does rakish things, and not just a man who claims to be a rake but really shies away from the morally-objectionable things that would lose him the reader's affection (like the ever-present "rake who'll never plunder an innocent" cliche). He lies, outright lies, at the very start for the sole purpose of gaining Prudence's interest because she is rich. He sees her as a romantic, day-dream addled nouveau riche and figures it'll be like taking candy from a baby. He follows that up by having his servant spy on her so he can "conveniently" show up at the same time, blackmailing her uncle into acquiescing to his marriage proposal, and snubbing Prudence at a ball for another woman in order to manipulate her emotions even further. Rhys is no saint at the beginning of the book, and that's a part of both the book's strengths and flaws.

Strength-wise, it adds significantly to the narrative tension. Rhys performs all of his dastardly deeds at first thinking only of himself, but just because he genuinely comes to love Prudence doesn't mean that all of his previous actions suddenly go away, becoming an interesting ticking time-bomb of dramatic irony that kept me reading. I'm not totally spoiling anything by saying that eventually, yes, Prudence finds out that he knew about her money all along - and, inconveniently enough, finds out right about the time that Rhys is on the cusp of professing his all-too-real adoration.

Of course, the flaws that this led to were the fact that I thought the solution at the end of the novel was far too easy. I've heard reviewers complain that Prudence seemed really way too naive to never suspect Rhys of knowing about her money, but I found I could deal with it. Her previous encounter with him, her first impression, had shaped the way she saw him and all of his actions seemed to corroborate it. However, the eventual revelation that he had lied should, according to her character, have pretty much completely destroyed her.

Before Rhys arrived, Prudence was convinced she was too old, too fat, too plain, but Rhys managed to convince her that she was beautiful, interesting, witty, and worthy of being loved. Thanks to that, Rhys' deception not only made annihilated her positive image of him, it leveled her positive image of herself - because Rhys had been the one to convince her she was special, but with his true (initial) motivations revealed, it cast shadows and aspersions on every happy moment they spent together.

Because of this, the way Rhys won her back (making a public announcement in the newspaper that he will marry her one day after the will deadline - thus marrying her after she's lost the money) seemed a bit simplistic to me - he may prove his intentions now, but could one newspaper interview really reverse all the distrust and doubt? The very ending (in the epilogue) does assuage this a bit with a clever move on Prudence's part but it doesn't eliminate the problem completely.

However, ultimately, I found the romance to be a sound one. As in And Then He Kissed Her, while both characters developed throughout the novel, one character had significantly more ground to cover than the other. In Kissed, it was Emma and her self-discovery. In Wicked, it's Rhys. Prudence had such a vaulted, heroic opinion of Rhys that he couldn't help but attempt to live up to it, and that was a pleasant plot element to read about. Prudence, in an unusual turn for a romance novel, declares her love for Rhys fairly early - and what the novel shows is Rhys' progression from dismissing this, to craving it, to believing it, and finally, to reciprocating it.B+.

My BLOG! It is BEAUTIFUL!

There are, apparently, a lot more than fifteen blogger templates.

They're just not on Blogger itself.

Thanks to the WONDERFUL help from the Comments section, I found out finding a cool customized template is frighteningly easy and completely free. Once again, my ignorance astounds me.

But don't mind me - look at my beautiful blog!

Help and Bribery

First, the help part.

I want to make my blog look pretty. I've changed the template a number of times, but as Blogger only has, like, sixteen templates, no matter what I do it manages to look dull.

Like a blogger blog, basically. Or at least a Beginner's Blogger Blog.

I dunno, I guess I want my blog to have a little more pizazz, since I'd like to use my blog as a way to interact with my readers once I become a published novelist (and to prevent myself from nose-diving into Negativity City [Author Population: A BAJILLION] I like to assume it will be fairly soon), and I want it to look pretty and polished and professional.

Do you any of you know how to set an image as a background? Or change my title into a banner? Or any of the other HTML tricks I have absolutely no knowledge of because I'm an artist whose most complicated use of my computer involves playing Bubble Town on Facebook while writing book reviews at the same time?

Second, the bribery part, and no, sorry, it's not for you. Any help would be appreciated, but the only reward would be my sincerest thanks and the knowledge you helped pretty-fy the (soon to be! yes! SOON!) best-selling author's blog.

No, the bribery is for me. I'm not above bribery. I'm so not above bribery it's hilarious. If someone said to me, "Hey, wanna get into my white, unmarked van with stolen plates in the dead of night while you're standing in a darkened alley with no witnesses?" and happened to say (before I had a chance to scream for help), "Oh, and we'll hit a bookstore later, my treat" - I'd go "HELL YEAH, SUCKA."

I want to finish Reading the Willow King. Like, really fast. I have a bunch of other ideas that, frankly, I'd much rather be working on but I can't drop this novel because I drop every novel and I'll never be able to finish the good novel I WANT to make if I don't finish the novel I kinda sorta want to make but not really anymore because I'm bored.

I'm at about 85 k words right now - but only about 65% through the story (which is relatively normal with first drafts), so I set a deadline: August 31st.

This August - which gives me about a month a half, which is crazy-ambitious for me. I probably won't make it, but if I do, I've promised myself that I'll get to go to Chapters (or the Wee Book Inn, if I'm really cheap) and choose five romance novels guilt-free. No book buying until then. I kinda cheated by buying some books last week, but well, it wasn't really cheating because it wasn't guilt-free. I'm full of guilt - and now with two more books.

BUT!!!! Guilt-free if I finish by August 31st! Wish me luck!

"Welcome to Temptation," by Jennifer Crusie

The Chick: Sophie Dempsey, the goody-two-shoes sister to two rascally con artist siblings. Wants to make a plain, vanilla audition video for her brother's crazy ex-girlfriend and get the hell out of Dodge.
The Rub: Grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, and gave her virginity to a clean-cut Town Boy who ended up humiliating her. She's now convinced privileged town boys are all alike.

The Dude: Phineas "Phin" T. Tucker, mayor of the small, deceptively simple town of Temptation. His father, grandfather, and great-grandfather (all named Phineas!) were all mayor before him, so that's a lot of legacy to live up to. On the plus side, it means they've never had to change political posters or the mayor name on the "Welcome" sign for more than sixty years.
The Rub: Single dad to a cute little girl whose gold-digging mama died under suspicious circumstances. Lives with his mother - who has control issues of her own.

The Plot:
Sophie: What are the rules are filming movies in Temptation?

Garvey, the Hypocritical Conservative Mayoral Candidate: NO PORN!

Phin: Hey, are you guys making porn?

Sophie: No - but you're pretty.

Phin and Sophie: *commitment free sex!*

Sophie: *inspired screenwriting!*

Clea, Sophie's Client: Hey, that would make great porn.

Leo, Clea's Old Producer: Porn? I can make porn!

Zane, Clea's Ex-Husband: NO PORN!

Zane: *dies*

Sophie: Crap. Guess he should have said "NO MURDER" instead.

Garvey: *steals porn tape and plays it on prime time cable TV*

Citizens of Temptation: *Phineas Lynch mob formed*

Phil: Oh, crap.

Sophie: No, wait, I made the porn!

Phil: That's hot. Marry me.


Romance Convention Checklist:
2 Very Bad Parents

1 Lacklustre Sexual Rival

1 Single Dad/Widower

1 Precocious Child

2 Precocious Adult Siblings

1 Game of Commando Pool

1 Muuuuuuuurder

2 Counts of Attempted Muuuuuuurder

1 Relationship-Aiding Pet

2 Romances Involving Secondary Characters

The Word: I haven't had this much with a contemporary romance for a long time. As you can probably tell by my more recent reviews, I've been focusing more on historicals. I'd also been a little iffy about returning to Crusie because after reading the masterpiece that is Bet Me, I had the misfortune to read two books of hers that were either m'eh (Getting Rid of Bradley) or confounding (Anyone But You).

The Smart Bitches Trashy Books gals gave Welcome To Temptation a m'eh grade, but then again, they'd also given Anyone But You a Squeeeee! We Love This Book So Much grade, so really, I can't exactly use them as a reliable measuring stick against whether I'll like a Jennifer Crusie novel or not. In fact, while I love the Smart Bitches dearly, I disagree with a very great many of their reviews so maybe I should go for their books that they give C's to.

Welcome to Temptation has a lot of elements that I've come to identify as Jennifer Crusie Trademarks, namely:

1. A weird/ugly pet (usually a dog) has to show up somewhere. In this case, it's Lassie, a weird Corgi hybrid dog abandoned by its owner that Sophie the heroine adopts.

2. Unseemly amounts of ice cream (usually Dove Bars) will be eaten by the female characters. It's Dove Bars this time, which they seem to eat every day.

3. The hero/heroine will love one particular musician above all others and their songs will provide a continuous soundtrack throughout the novel. For instance, in Bet Me, it was Elvis Costello/Presley. In Temptation, it's Dusty Springfield. Who I just found out by looking at iTunes is a woman. I'm an idiot. I kept thinking Dusty Springfield sounded like some of folk singer a la Woody Guthrie.

4. One of the protagonists (although, ideally, both) will have terrrrrrible parents. Holy crap, did Jennifer Crusie have a bad childhood or something? Nearly all of her books that I've read have at least one protagonist whose parents are borderline monsters. In this case, Sophie's dad's a con man but entirely absent, but Phin's mom is an ice queen - although, to Crusie's credit, a very realistically motivated and three-dimensional ice queen.

5. One of the protagonists (usually the heroine) will be tailed by an ex with a bizarre and rare form of receptive aphasia that prevents them from comprehending sentences that involve the words "I want to break up with you," "I'm in love with someone else," "we're over," "I think we should see other people," and "I don't want to have children with you." In Temptation, it's Sophie's psychiatrist boyfriend Brandon, who you'd think as a psychiatrist would be able to identify the concept of denial.

Anyway, though, Welcome to Temptation was a wonderful Crusie example and not a tedious Crusie example. The vast cast of characters, the witty dialogue, the well-drawn setting, it all contributed to a contemporary romance that I genuinely loved and belongs now on my Keeper shelf.

Sophie and her sister Amy drive into the town of Temptation to do an audition video for Clea, a washed-up actress and former porn star who briefly dated their brother Davy before dumping him for a successful (if boorish) TV anchor. Normally Sophie and Amy just do wedding videos, but Amy's looking to branch out and she convinces Sophie to do an improvised film with Clea to jump-start her career.

Trouble follows just around the corner and they end up in a mild car accident with the town's ultra-conservative and perpetually losing mayoral candidate Stephen Garvey, who takes an immediate dislike to them. His hair-trigger suspicions are raised when they admit to filming a video in Temptation, and his natural conservative prejudice against "loose women" as well as Clea's former career choices convinces him they are planning on making a porn movie in Temptation.

He is eager to bring up the triple-threat of Outsiders, Movie People, and Uppity Women at the council meeting a few minutes later, which is presided over by Temptation's actual Mayor, Phineas T. Tucker. If Temptation were a kingdom, Phin would be the town's King. His father, Phineas T Tucker III, was mayor before him, as was his father Phineas T. Tucker II and his father Phineas T Tucker the first. They've used the same political posters for decades (that read Tucker - More of the Same), and have never even had to change the mayoral plaque at the bottom of the Temptation Welcome sign.

However, Phin really doesn't like being mayor. He's an easy-going guy who likes books, beers, pool, and his nine-year-old daughter Dillie. He's been pressed into service for several terms now by his Lady Macbeth of a mother, the family maxim "Tuckers don't lose," and the knowledge that if he doesn't win the mayoral race, Stephen Garvey will. The Tucker dynasty was broken only once when Phin's dad lost to Stephen's, but the two dark years of Mayor Garvey's rule convinced Phin that while he's not fond of being Phineas T. Tucker the Fourth, it's better than the alternative.

However, Phin knows that Stephen will use anything to his advantage in the upcoming election, including accusing Phin of abetting the production of pornography, so he heads down to Clea's house to make sure Sophie and Amy are on the up-and-up. He's attracted to Sophie, who identifies him as a Town Boy and goes into Hostile-Defense mode, but he isn't entirely convinced that their movie is clean.

However, after a few arguments and interchanges and handiwork, Sophie and Phin allow themselves to fall into a commitment-free sexual relationship. Both are attracted to each other but unwilling to get too involved, Sophie because Phin is a Town Boy, and Phin because he's been burned before (by Dillie's now-deceased mother) and knows that an obvious relationship to her will jeopardize his standing in the election.

Of course, both of them start getting stronger feelings for each other, but obstacles start showing up in droves, in true Crusie madcap screwball style. Sophie and Phin's attempts to be romantic are repeatedly sabotaged by their disapproving relatives. Clea's old producer Leo shows up and is willing to produce their film - but he'll have to spruce it up with actual pornographic scenes first or it won't sell. Clea's adulterous boor of an ex-husband, Zane, arrives and is willing to blackmail just about everyone in Temptation to get Clea's movie shut down - and then he winds up dead.

I think one of the main reasons I loved this book was the setting. The town of Temptation. Population, about two thousand. Jennifer Crusie manages to create a wonderful town with its own politics and battle lines and rivalries, and stuffs it full of fantastically diverse characters. I'm a fan of small-town stories, but oftentimes they can veer into the twee, where characters are wacky just for the wackiness of it. Crusie crafts a realistic environment with a large (and largely endearing) cast of characters, all of whom are well-written. None of them are given a cutesy sugar-cookie background, and none of them are cardboard cutouts with nametags that read, "Hi! My Quirk is __________".

I mean, even Liz was given a background that sufficiently explained her frequently atrocious behaviour. I know there are nasty or annoying people in this world, and I know that nasty and annoying people make for interesting literary conflict. But they have to be human characters and human beings are motivated and have reasons for the nasty or annoying shit they pull. Thankfully, all of Jennifer Crusie's characters get a thorough, well-written workthrough. So basically, I loved the novel. Loved loved loved it. I loved the hero - I loved the heroine. I loved the town and its quirks (like their phallic-symbol water tower). I'll definitely be re-reading this again and again. A+.

"Countdown," by Michelle Maddox (Half-Review)

The Chick: Kira Jordan, a cynical thief and pickpocket who's managed to keep herself alive with her "flex," a mild psychic ability that allows her to read people's intentions. That is, until she's kidnapped and forced to participate in the deadly reality game show The Countdown.
The Rub: Terrified of the dark. Because it was dark when a burglar murdered her entire family seven years ago, natch.

The Dude: Rogan Ellis, a convicted rapist and murderer of nine women who volunteers for The Countdown because, well, he's got 500 years worth of consecutive life sentences to work off, so why not?
The Rub: He might actually be innocent of the rape and murder charges, but he still knows more about The Countdown than he lets on.

The Plot:

Kira: Where am I? What's going on?

Evil Announcer: Welcome to the COUNTDOWN! Play or DIE!

Rogan: Looks like we'll have to work together!

Kira: But I don't know who to trust!

Evil Doctor: Kira, Rogan killed your family!

Evil Fellow Competitor: No, I killed your family!

Rogan's Brother: I'm an evil computer virus!

Kira: ... ... Dammit, my head hurts. Let's just have sex.

Evil Anonymous Audience: SCORE!

Romance Convention Checklist:

1 World-Weary Tough-as-Nails Street Gal

1 Rugged Hero with a Daaaaark Paaaaast

1 Accidentally Televised Bout of Lovemaking

1 Inappropriately Short Skirt

1 Inconvenient Phobia

1 Nasty (or IS he?) Relative

1 Lacklustre Sexual Rival

Sci-Fi Convention Checklist:

1 Evil Robot Accountant

1 Not-So-Mad Mad Scientist

1 Example of Psychic Powers

2 Miraculous Healing Serums

1 Villain Who Wants to Take Over the World, nyaah!

The Word: Nuh-uh. I think the good folks at Green Man Review must be on to me - they're sending me more sci-fi and fantasy romances than just plain sci-fi and fantasy. You'll have to head on down to Greenmanreview.com in about a month or so to see my review.

"Duchess By Night," by Eloisa James

The Chick: Harriet, Duchess of Berrow, a self-described frumpy, forgettable country widow, bored from always being overlooked and pitied.
The Rub: Married a chess nerd. Who promptly killed himself after losing a game to his best friend, the Duke of Villiers.

The Dude: Lord Justinian "Jem" Strange, an incredibly wealthy and scandalous peer whose Fonthill estate has been one constant drunken after-party for several years now. Dancing girls! Actresses! Bizarre mad scientists (perhaps a nod to Marvel fans?)!
The Rub: He's a widower and a single dad to an eight-year-old girl, which means that he has to keep his daddy-daughter space very separate from the rest of his house. Also, mild daddy issues.

The Plot:
Isidore, Duchess of Cosway: My husband has abandoned me to explore the Nile! I want to attend a scandalous party that will enrage him enough to come back to me!

Duke Villers: Let's go together! Harriet, why don't you protect your reputation by posing as a boy? I can teach you how to stuff your drawers ... not that I ever have.

Isidore: Wonderful! I .... WANT TO ROCK N' ROLL ALL NIIIIIIIIIIGHT!

Harriet: AND CROSS-DRESS EVERY DAY!

Harriet: *manninated!*

Lord Strange (Jem): That Harry is disturbingly pretty - I must make him a man so that I won't be attracted to him anymore! Harry - have some raw beef!

Harry: Yum!

Jem: It's meat for men! There's nothing I like more than man meat - er, scratch that! Let's try horses.

Harry: Ouch - but yay!

Jem: Yes! Horses! Very manly! Nothing more manly than riding a viral stallion - DAMMIT! Let's look at my tower - my big, giant tower.

Harry: Your big, giant, tower that's standing upright at an angle, almost like it's -

Jem: NEVERMIND - let's try fencing.

Harry: Huzzah! Two men getting sweaty interacting with long shafts!

Jem: ............. why does everything I like have to do with phallic symbols?!

Harry: En garde!

Jem: *hack! slash!*

Harry: *shirt falls open*

Jem: BOOBS! THANK GOD!


Romance Convention Checklist1 Horny Widow

1 Single Dad/Widower

1 Precocious Youngster

2 Friendly Ho's

1 Almost Roll-In-The-Hay (sorry, hives)

1 Deadly Fever (unsexy variety)

1 Instance of Trouser-stuffing

1 Instance of Bra-stuffing

1 Obvious Sequel Setup (Isidore's husband returns!)

The Word:
Harriet, Duchess of Berrow is bored and sad, because her husband the Chess Nerd killed himself two years ago and no one has ever seen her since as anything other than a dull joykilling widow. Isidore, Duchess of Cosway is bored and sad because she's been legally married for twelve years to a man who's spent those twelve years on another continent entirely.

Isidore comes up with the brilliant idea to attend the never-ending house party at the estate of Lord Strange - a man whose connections are so unsavory she's certain it will provide the perfect incentive to send her ne'er-do-well husband back to clean up the mess. Isidore is tired of being married to a man she's never met and tired of being a virgin and thinks a skanky party is just the ticket to reclaim/punish her wayward spouse.

Harriet decides to dress as a man for the trip, partly to protect her own reputation, and partly on the advice of Duke Villiers who reveals that Lord Strange is not fond of people who exploit their high rank. The two gals are escorted there by Villiers, a friend of Strange who is too ill to supervise Isidore himself thanks to a still-healing sword wound.

The trio arrive, and "Harry" is introduced as Villier's eccentric mama's boy nephew. Lord Strange ("Jem" to his friends) is immediately concerned for Harry's safety in his den of iniquity, as he takes one look at Harry and pegs him for a vulnerable (albeit disturbingly attractive) innocent. Jem's alright hanging with slutty actresses and cads, but he draws the line at actual sexual exploitation, so he sets about trying to "man up" Harry to teach him how to fend for himself. Harriet finds herself having a great time in pants, and Jem finds himself more and more inexplicably attracted to Harry, and eventually certain things (namely, two ^_^) come out into the open and their romance blossoms for real.
This was the first Eloisa James novel I've ever read and the first chapters were a little overwhelming - both with exacting historical detail and character arcs (some of which obviously started in previous novels that I haven't read), so for new readers the first chapters before Harriet and Isidore depart for Fonthill are a bit dense. Afterwards, though, the narrative sets off at a nice clip.

James has a sharp writing style for description, characterization, and dialogue. Her characterization, in particular, is wonderful. My last romance was And Then He Kissed Her by Laura Lee Guhrke and now with Duchess By Night I'm beginning to think I'm getting spoiled by romances with heroines I am just as interested in as the heroes. Harriet is an engaging character - she's not a raving feminist, but she soon becomes very acquainted with the pleasures of wearing breeches over cumbersome skirts and panniers and towering wigs, and she is able to enjoy that without being one of those tiresomely "feisty" heroines who yell and curse and stomp their feet very prettily until they are kissed hard enough to shut up.

As well, she is a widow who loved her husband. Thank you Eloisa James! The "unsatisfied widow" plot contrivance can be tiresome. Realistic in some cases, yes, but often annoying. James excellently demonstrates how, though Harriet's marriage to the Chess Nerd was not nearly on the same level as her relationship with Jem, it was still a pleasant relationship by all accounts and the Chess Nerd's self-inflicted demise hurt her very deeply.

Jem, also, is not yet another one of those "caddish rakes" for whom sex is an exciting game, who seem to be popping up everywhere in regencies. Reading The Duke & I by Julia Quinn tended to be a little giggle-inducing because nearly every single male character over twenty (with one drunken exception) in that novel was identified as or identified himself as a rake. They can't all be rakes! I don't want to spoil everything about Jem's character, but his development was a treat to watch as a little bit more was revealed about him as the novel progressed.

As well, Eloisa James puts to bed another romantic cliche: the Perfect Single Dad. Jem loves his daughter dearly and is concerned for her welfare, but he's definitely not perfect and Harriet very quickly discerns some very real flaws in Jem's daughter's upbringing. I thought this was a lovely addition to the narrative as well as Jem and Harriet's romance. In other romances, the Single Dad is often an idealized character who already has a successful, Swiss-watch-precise relationship with his child, one that is barely disturbed in the least by the addition of a heroine. Not so here - James demonstrates how while Jem is a capable father, Harriet's presence improves and contributes to his relationship with his daughter and his daughter's upbringing, instead of simply, well, adding more love and a shot of estrogen to an already successful family.

All in all, Duchess By Night is damn near perfect. There are very few flaws but here they are: first of all, I thought the plot device of The Game (a ultra-secret card game that apparently decides the fate of England) seemed a little contrived. I thought its introduction into the plot was a little late and seemed only to add an extra element to Jem and Harriet's disagreement for the sole purpose of making a comparison between Jem and the dearly departed Chess Nerd that wasn't necessary. As well, Harriet's dislike of Jem's late wife seemed uncharacteristic and somewhat unpleasant. It was an irrational jealousy that I didn't think was necessary for Harriet's character and seemed rather odd because a) Jem's wife was eight years dead and thus hardly competition, b) Jem loved and appreciated his wife and their marriage was partly responsible for the man he turned out to be and c) she was the mother of Jem's daughter who Harriet adores. I didn't see the point of Harriet getting angry about something so irrelevant but, thankfully, most of her dislike was mentioned in passing and didn't get in the way of the overall pleasure of the novel. Definitely a must-read. A-.

Still Plugging Away

So, I've still been hammering away at Reading the Willow King. Talk about persistance, eh? I'll probably have to give it another title, though. Came up with a new idea, and just finished this big climax thing that makes my book (in my mind) so much better than it was originally going to be.

It's still hard to make myself sit down and steadily write. Sometimes doing it in a desk helps. Sometimes doing it in my dad's lazyboy helps (although not if I fall asleep, as often happens). I've mainly been doing it after supper - the entire day is dedicated to MY JOB, and I exercise in the afternoons (yes, now that I've said in public on my blog I will HAVE to do it! Yeah, that's the ticket...).

I'm a little worried about what I'm going to do once the TV season starts. Pick one show a day? TiVo the rest for weekends? I'm a TV-holic, true, but hey, that's how I managed to teach myself screenwriting (now if only I could actually write my screenplay, but NO, I must focus on my novel...). And then when will I read? I feel like the characters in The New Policeman, all the time is slipping away and I never have enough of it.

Re-submitted...

I resubmitted "House Hunting" to Weird Tales magazine, and I hope it arrives this time. Some weird glitch happened last time (perhaps I misspelled Weird? It's entirely possible) and they never received it so I ended up waiting for six months with jack squat.

Ah well.

Meanwhile, I've got "Joyful Noise" to have critiqued, and "A Clean Trade" to polish into a second draft. I'm getting back on the short-story wagon, even though my main focus is still my novel. My thoughts towards Vancouver Film School have paled considerably. It's horribly expensive, it's narrow in its focus, and it's a school that's more well known for animation than writing.

Meanwhile, I've been researching the University of British Columbia's MFA in Creative Writing program. In that program, I'd be able to study screenwriting AND fiction writing AND children's literature (or non fiction, or lyric and libretto, or radio play) - and I'd have a YEAR to work on a thesis which WOULD BE A NOVEL (or a screenplay)! How cool would that be?

I've been making movies in my head, but I've been making novels, too. Plus, from what I've seen of the U of BC's tuition, it's a much longer program and more well-rounded education than VFS. I'm a writer - that can include screenwriting, but I think my mistake was to focus only on screenwriting. I want to write novels too.

Anyway, it seems like a great idea and I have all the creative and academic requirements met already, including those wanted for a lot of their scholarships which could REALLY help. They also have courses about maintaining a career as a writer, how to edit a magazine, how to teach creative writing. All SORTS of things. It's so cool!

I'm getting ahead of myself, I know. My parents pointed this out - at one point I was JUST as excited for VFS.

I'm going to apply anyway - I have to do it by November, and I'll find out if I made it in February (which is before I have to pay my VFS tuition). If I make it (and I like to think I will), then I'll cancel it with VFS.

But first I have to get some more publications out - that'll up my cred.

"And Then He Kissed Her," by Laura Lee Guhrke

The Chick: Emma Dove, a thirty-year-old girl-bachelor who's spent five years as the incredibly efficient, meticulously proper, and woefully under appreciated secretary to wealthy publisher Viscount Marlowe. She makes his publishing company run smoother, buys send-off gifts for his mistresses, and can do just about anything...except get Marlowe to publish her manuscripts on etiquette.
The Rub: Her upbringing (by her cold father, and then later her affectionate, if rigid, aunt) has since been so strict that she has emerged with flawless manners and an encyclopedic memory for the rules of proper conduct ... as well as a life of dull spinsterhood living alone with her cat.

The Dude: Viscount Harrison "Harry" Marlowe - one of the only members of the Peerage not in debt, because he happens to be the owner of a successful publishing company. He has instincts for what sells and what doesn't, and cannot imagine what his dull, sober secretary could possibly write that could sell.
The Rub: He and his family have been in disgrace ever since he spent five years petitioning Parliament to divorce his adulterous wife who ran off to America with her lover. Since that betrayal, he has no intention of marrying again.

The Plot:
Marlowe: Let's see - Miss Dove, did you send the diamonds to my ex-mistress? The sapphires to my sister? The printing list to my editors?

Emma: Yes. Did you read my manuscript?

Marlowe: Er, not for us, feel free to try other markets! -- *flees*

Emma: *WORST BIRTHDAY EVER* I quit!

Marlowe: WHAT?

Emma: And you're selfish, careless, and a liar! Plus, it turns out ladies actually LIKE reading my stuff so now I'm insanely successful!

Marlowe: Good Lord! Who knew backbones could be so sexy? Know what's also sexy?

Emma: What?

Marlowe: Chocolate! And seduction!

Emma: Screw chocolate and seduction! I want sex!

Marlowe: Hurrah! Ah well, might as well get married, too.

Emma: YEAH!

Romance Convention ChecklistOne Lonely Spinster

Five Nosy Female Relatives

One Persnickety Aunt who Influences from Beyond the Grave

Two Erotic Uses of Food

One Unexpected Literary Success

One Very Bad Parent (deceased)

One Very Bad Ex-Wife (fled)

One Gift of Naughty Books


The Word: There are a few plot elements that aren't my favourite but that I've come to see as the norm in some forms of Regency romance. That is, while they occur so often in romance that I don't automatically mark a book as bad if it has these elements, in novels where they don't occur it's a pleasant surprise.

One is the Love At First Sight plot. You know, the Hero is gazing dispassionately across a crowded ballroom and spots the Heroine and is immediately struck by Catastrophic Upheavals of Unheard-of Emotions. They've happened enough in books where if the book is still well-written and entertaining, I'll still enjoy it, even if I tend to think it's a little unrealistic. What can you discern about a person in one glance other than looks? You can't tell if a person is funny or charming or sensitive or generous just by looking a person for two seconds. Which leads into my second not-favourite plot element:

The Pretty Heroine Meets the Pretty Hero plot. There are an awful lot of these, especially in Regency, where the Heroine is just gorgeously, unbelievably beautiful, as is the hero. I know that everyone is beautiful in their own way, but I've read so many stories about the supermodel gorgeous girl falling for the supermodel gorgeous guy to have supermodel gorgeous babies. I don't understand the relevance of good looks. WHY does the heroine have to be beautiful? WHY does the hero have to be handsome? Beautiful and Handsome do not necessarily equal Attractive. I mean, look at Jane Eyre - she's plain, he's boney-faced (and eventually maimed). They can still get it on. It happens so often that it doesn't really bother me - but it does mean that when a book doesn't use these, that it gets a little extra positive attention from me.

Case in point: And Then He Kissed Her. Marlowe has known Emma for years. For years, he's walked past her desk and she's typed his memos with brisk, humourless efficiency. In return, he paid her a man's salary and that was that. She was an employee. He simply never saw her in a sexual way. And she's not exceptional-looking, either. She's skinny, she has tiny boobs (that are hilariously dissed by one of Marlowe's busty ex-mistresses), she's plain and freckled. Besides which, Marlowe has become somewhat notorious (even amongst his family members) for preferring exotic-looking, curvaceous and, let's face it, slutty women as his sexual partners and Emma is so far out of his preferred category that even his family never suspected Marlowe or Emma to be having an affair (as many other members of the ton did, as it was incredibly unusual to have a female secretary).

Of course, a straw eventually breaks the camel's back - in this case, Emma discovers that Marlowe never read more then a paragraph of each of her manuscripts before chucking them in the dustbin. For once in her life, she gives in to her emotions (in this case, rage and disappointment) and quits without notice. When Marlowe's company falls into absolute chaos without Emma's constant assistance he tries to coax her back and she launches into a passionate diatribe about what an asshole he is.

And - aha! That is how love blossoms. I loved it. Emma's true personality was been so smothered by rules of propriety that when she was bound by employer-employee boundaries she was a dull little mouse that Marlowe never had a second glance for. However, once she quits and throws caution to the wind, her real personality is revealed to Marlowe, who wastes precious little time in falling in love with it and becomes determined to bring it to the surface in Emma as often as possible.

And that's when Marlowe starts noticing the beautiful parts of Emma. She's still not an Amazon, but once Marlowe starts paying attention to her, he notices the little parts of Emma that are beautiful - the colour of her hair, her smile, her eyelashes. The little parts of everyone that are beautiful. There's a lyric from Roger & Hammerstein's musical Cinderella that seems particularly relevant to discussions like these, where Cinderella sings, "Do I love you because you're wonderful? Or are you wonderful, because I love you?" That's kind of the thing here - I've come to accept the story where the hero is struck blind by the Heroine's beauty (and vice versa) to discover later that she comes with the bonus of a great personality. But I have to say, I really prefer the story where the heroine becomes beautiful because the hero loves her so much.

Not to mention this story was well-written and paced. This was one of those stories where I loved the heroine as much as the hero. The book is partly about Marlowe, but his change in his life view is relatively minor in comparison and happens relatively quickly at the end of the novel. Most of this book is about Emma's transformation from a repressed rule-follower whose devotion to propriety has gained her absolutely no advantage in life to a woman willing to ask (and fight!) for what she wants.

Laura Lee Guhrke also manages to jam-packing the novel with a wealth of period detail. This is relatively late Victorian period here, not Regency, but everything from the clothes to table arrangements to home decor are lavishly described while at the same time fitting in with the story and not appearing a huge chunks of awkward exposition. This book had a great setting as well as fantastic and emphatic characters. This book is a combination of nothing but good things, so it receives a well-deserved A.

Happiness Is....

Happiness is walking down Whyte Ave with no sunglasses or hat or sunblock, sipping on a Tim Horton's iced cappuccino that somehow achieves what a dozen rattling AC machines can't. My headphones are on and I'm listening to a summer album.

A summer album, in case you don't know, is music that evokes in me memories of high school letting out for summer, sunlight, barbecues, fairgrounds, television shows and movies about students in shorts dancing on beaches. It reminds me of the best parts of high school that I never really experienced and boyfriends and high hopes and lip gloss and iced mugs of rootbeer out on the porch. In this particular case, I'm listening to Katy Perry's One of the Boys.

The sun's beating down, a summer day for summer music, and I take out my hair tie that I use to keep my hair in a ponytail. I tie it up right after I shower because I don't have time in the mornings to blow-dry it, so letting it out at the end of the day my hair is still cool and smooth and smells like shampoo. I listen to my music and imagine that boys on the street and in cars have noticed this gesture and will think nothing of it until hours later when they're out of the sunlight and they wonder why they didn't come up and say something to me. Because it's a summer day and I'm listening to my summer music and my hair is down and I'm sexy, dammit.

I walk down Whyte Ave in the heat, by myself, starting One of the Boys over once I reach the last song. Sweat collects on the inside of my right arm that is bent from keeping my Sleeping Beauty totebag on my shoulder that has a blue "I Write Books" pin attacked to one of the straps. I'm imagining plots to my novels that aren't yet written, movies that aren't yet made, Broadway plays that have yet to be produced. I'm imagining writing awards and Oscars and Tonys and my acceptance speeches with my partner (as yet unnamed and un-visualized) who will doubtless choose such a time to propose to me.

I walk by stores arranged like a child's diorama project, with wide windows showing candy-coloured wares unsold by the likes of Walmart or Old Navy - whispy dresses sewn for Asian frames, sweaters for dogs (in this heat?), musical instruments, ice cream, bars that spill music and people out onto the street even though it's only 4:15 on a Friday afternoon. I pass boys, and I'm brave enough to dare to look a few of them in the face, a half-smile on my lips from the heat and the sunlight and the summer music and mental images of me holding a gold RITA statuette in one hand and a Birk's box in the other.

I step into Lush, partly for the coolness and partly to smell all the soaps and bathbombs made with cherry blossoms, honey, and glitter. It's too hot for baths in this season, so I walk out without buying anything. The air is shattered by honking. Turkey has won a football game. I least I think it is Turkey - a cavalcade of SUVs and trucks march down the street blaring staccato messages of victory while the occupants wave fluttering red flags bearing a white star and crescent moon emblem.

I pass more boys, mothers with babies, even a few beggars - but you can never be too sure. On Whyte Ave, if you toss a few dollars into prostrate person's coffee cup you have a 50 percent chance of helping a homeless person and a 50 percent chance of ruining the decaf no-foam mochaccino of some bohemian student artist who's too busy composing his next masterpiece in his head to shave or bathe.

The air smells like grilled beef, burnt sugar, perfume, and gasoline. Every once in a while I'll pass a big-box store with its polished facade in between the shops and boutiques, a Chapters or a Le Chateau, looking for all the world like the know-it-all teacher's pet hallway monitor pretending she's maintaining order amongst all her rowdy, dirty, classmates who are running wild, heedless of her presence.

Forty minutes in the sun, and I'm still drinking in summer music and hot sun and daydreams, and I arrive at the Wee Book Inn. Amid AC-maintained chill and The Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack, I pick out romance novels from authors I've never read (and one I have). They're stories of Empire waists and Dukes and mansions, their covers stylized pictures of jewelry and feather quills, or else incomplete pictures of women in various states of romantic, expensive undress. I pay for them and I leave.

So now I'm back in the sun, and the Turks have come full circle and are honking their joy driving down on the opposite side of the street. I'm listening to summer music and my hair is long and cool and I'm walking down Whyte Ave by myself surrounded by boys and babies and beggars, carrying home five books I can't wait to read. It's a Friday afternoon, I have no homework anymore, and endless days to repent mistakes and make new ones and eventually get something right. I'm thirsty and tired and more than a little afraid of sunburn but I know I'm going home to rootbeer and baked potatoes and more writing.

That, is short, is what happiness is. At least for now.

Writing Updates

I realize that I've been writing more romance reviews than actual updates lately.

Well, for writing, I've been plugging away at Reading the Willow King like a good little novelist, even though I've got the ideas for a staggering 5 (!) fantasy-romance novels clogging up the creative pipe behind it. I've been trying to write steadily, but on my best days I'm never more than 2100 words, which is frustrating. A novel is at least 80 000 words! I'm more than halfway there (current count: 60 000 words), but then there's the second draft to be written, and the third draft, and then the workshopping, and then agent-shopping, etc. etc.

So let's just simplify this into one thing: writing books is hard.

On the short-stories side, I found out that Weird Tales never received "House Hunting," so I've been sitting on that thing for 6 months for nothing. :( But I think I'll resubmit anyways.

Also, as a break from my characters' near-constant bickering, I wrote a short story on the fly (on the fly in Animejune speak means: 4 days) about an idea about a washing-machine fantasy I've had in my head for a while. I churned it out, but the basics are there and I can put the pretty language in on the second draft.

Also, my Choir story based on my last tour with my Choir ("Joyful Noise") earned raves from....my mum. But that's a start - she's a very literary intelligent and person and not afraid to drop criticism on me (she's called my fantasy at times, "derivative" and "childish") because she knows that then her raves are much more important. So I think I'll polish that one off and try submitting it too, and see how it goes.

I'm enjoying the new job at the Library as a Materials Processing Assistant. I've been at it for a month full-time without wanting to kill myself or having been called into the Management's office to discuss my "attitude," which means this job is already a million times better than any other job I've ever had. So I guess that means it ranks #2, right below Full-Time Novelist.

Right? Once I learn how to write more than 2000 words a day? Once I learn how to make myself write for eight hours a day like Nora Roberts? That'll happen, right? RIGHT?

"The Duke & I," by Julia Quinn

The Chick: Daphne Bridgerton, one of eight (!) liberal, wealthy siblings, all currently unmarried, although their formidable mother Violet is trying desperately to rectify that situation.
The Rub (yes, I'm changing "shady past" to "The Rub." It makes more sense - not all characters have hidden secrets but ALL have some major problem or other that needs to be resolved.): All the boys of the ton think she's funny and kind and caring, but see her as too much of a friend to consider a romantic attachment.

The Dude: Simon Basset, Duke of Hastings, a "rake" (the term is bandied about very loosely in this book) who is determined never to marry or have children, and avoid society as much as he can. However, as he's handsome and a Duke, every mother within a 50 mile radius is determined to marry him off to their daughters.
The Rub: Spent his childhood overcoming a vicious stutter, and lives in the shadow of his deceased, abusively neglectful father.

The Plot:

Daphne: I want to marry and have children, but men won't notice me!

Simon: I've vowed never to marry or have children, but women won't leave me alone!

Daphne: Let's pretend we're attached, then! Peer pressure solves all problems!

Simon: Alright, as long as I don't have to get married.

Daphne: *flashes boobs*

Simon: Hot damn! I mean, DAMMIT.

Simon and Daphne: *hasty wedding*

Simon: Alright, as long as I don't have to have children.

Daphne: *date-rapes!*

Simon: Yee-haw! I mean, DOUBLE DAMMIT! I hate my daddy! I hate my st-st-stutter! I hate myself!

Daphne: Well, I love you.

Simon: Problem solved!

Romantic Convention Checklist1 Very Bad Parent

1 Inconvenient Speech Impediment

1 Drunken Love Interest (rejected)

3 Uses of Hero as Human Punching Bag

1 Drunken Love Interest (accepted!)

1 Inefficient Regency-Era "Sex Talk"

1 Very Nasty Surprise Due to Inefficiency of Aforementioned "Sex Talk"

3 Manly Protectors

2 Kindly Matron Servants

The Word: This is the first entry in Julia Quinn's Bridgerton series, beginning with the fourth child, Daphne. Daphne is exasperated with the boys of the ton who have nothing but the greatest respect for her but no romantic inclinations. She rightly perceives that if Simon, a manly, respected Duke, pretends an interest in her, than other men will follow suit.

Simon, new Duke of Hastings, agrees to the ruse because ambitious mothers are chucking their daughters at him like so many rotten tomatoes and he's promised himself (thanks to some seriously dark daddy issues) that he'll never marry or have children. Of course, since Simon and Daphne have to be in close proximity with each other for the ruse to convince people (and Daphne's mother who, while ridiculously eager for her daughter to wed, is no fool) an actual romance quickly develops.

What happens beyond is the interesting part. The Duke & I is an intriguing character study, and not only of Daphne and Simon. Daphne thinks she's unintentionally deflected suitors by being too nice, but Simon sees how her three older brothers have also scared away prospective matches with their overprotectiveness. He also asks about halfway through the story that if the men of the ton had to be peer-pressured into noticing her, why she thinks they're so worthy of marriage in the first place. As well, it's an unflattering portrait of the Season of the ton, where mothers who are perfectly friendly people in real life are forced to become shrill-voiced saleswomen in order to give their daughters a future. In this period of history, if a woman didn't marry well, she had nothing.

In Simon's corner, he has to deal with some depressing issues about himself, and the utter loathing he has for the very idea of peerage thanks to his abominable father, who reveled in his authority as Duke. Simon hates everything to do with his father, including his position, and his hackles are raised at nearly every social function as some old Earl or friend of his father's always manages to corner him and offer condolences or congratulations for his dead father and position (respectively), which Simon has no intention of mourning or enjoying. Quinn very ably shows that, however justified his hatred of his father is, it has poisoned and corrupted his ability to act in his own interests. If his father liked something, Simon must hate it, and if his father hated it, Simon must like it. As the book progresses, Daphne has to help Simon realize how this mindset has actually prevented him from making his own choices.

In many ways (particularly in the narrative structure), I found The Duke & I to be similar to Lisa Kleypas' Secrets of a Summer Night. I always have spoilers in my reviews but this can get rather specific so read at your own discretion. In both books, the hero (both named Simon!) and the heroine get married about three-quarters through the novel, and, coincidentally enough, because the heroine is compromised in public. The placement of the marriage in the narrative is odd - in most novels the marriage (if a marriage is not part of the plot, like a marriage of convenience story) comes at the end because it serves as the resolution to the ultimate problem of whether the Hero and the Heroine can Make It.

But in both novels, the marriage actually exacerbates a problem. In Summer Night's case, Annabelle has to come to terms with how her marriage to a tradesman has alienated her from both the noble and the middle classes, and has to (at least partially) resolve the problem by proving that her marriage to Simon was the decision of a woman in love with a man, not the choice of an impoverished, pampered aristocrat who married an industrialist to keep herself in silk stockings.

With Duke, Simon's personal life decisions based on his abusive father's treatment of him are brought painfully to the surface by his marriage. Being man and wife puts Simon and Daphne in a more intimate position where Simon can no longer just say, "No children, and that's that," tip his hat, and gallop away. He can no longer withhold himself from Daphne, and the sudden exposure of his personal problems creates a breach that must be mended by the end of the novel. How this happens I won't be so crass as to give away. You'll have to read it yourself. But rest assured, it'll be a pleasant experience. B+.

That's It, I'm Done

As of Today, I now have my Bachelor of Arts, with a Major in English and a minor in Comparative Literature. I don't know what to feel about that, really. I had four really great years and made friends and joined a bunch of clubs, and now I get the pay-off with a day of family, liberal amounts of positive attention directed at me, and presents.

So why aren't I exactly smiling? First of all, the ceremony was a horrendous experience, one so bad that it's only benefit will be to inevitably provide pathos to my writing.

What happened? The two most hated words in the English language for me: clerical error. After four years, I'd accrued a decent 3.8 GPA, which meant that not only was I Dean's List for the Arts Faculty this year, but that I would graduate with distinction. Not ONLY that, but I was due to receive a Convocation Award - the Alison White Prize for Children's Literature.

GUESS whose parchment didn't say "with Distinction" on it. GUESS whose name card at the Convocation ceremony (which is given to the announcer to introduce me) didn't have "with distinction" OR any mention of my prize on it. GUESS who didn't (and NEVER WILL) have the chance to have her BA accomplishments read out loud in front of everybody the way all the other overachievers got to!

Those were pretty much the worst two hours of my life, spent stewing in a boiling rage and disappointment. The thing is, I knew it was an error, I knew I still won the Alison White Prize and I still had a 3.8 GPA, and all my parents and friends knew too, but I wanted it read. I wanted to be introduced as "AnimeJune, winner of the Alison White Prize for Children's Literature, with distinction" in front of everybody. Sure, it's pride. Sure, it's vanity. But I worked hard for those grades and I EARNED it, dammit. And those fucking incompetent goons over in the Faculty of Arts let one of their fucking best students COMPLETELY slip through the cracks.

And I know that there's nothing I can do about it now. I know I shouldn't let it spoil my day. But I think I'm entitled to rant on this subject for a little while longer. At least I salvaged some of my due - I told the announcer that my card was supposed to read "with distinction" (I figured I was pressing my luck by adding the Alison White Prize), so out of kindness he read it out that way so my family could here. It still felt like cheating. I mean, I could have been anyone, I could have just said it as a lark (like the guy who told the announcer his middle name was actually "Super Genius" and had it read that way). It's weird, I know. I'm lame. But how often do I get to convocate? I mean seriously. The University forgot everything about me.

So I'm pissed, what can I say?

Half-Review of "The Brass Bed," by Jennifer Stevenson (for full review, check Green Man.com!)

The Chick: the ridiculously-named Jewel Heiss, a fraud investigator with extreme sexual proclivities who can't keep a partner because she's literally screwed and dumped every man in the office.
Shady Past: Oh noez! She's an orphan! She lost the family farm! Guess she better fuel all those abandonment issues into an insatiable appetite for weird sex! Also, likes to get it on with swans.

The Dude: Clay Dawes, a con man who's convinced dozens of lonely housewives that his ancient brass bed can cure their sexual dissatisfaction. In return, he allows them to convince him that they keep coming back because he's such a sweet guy, and not because there's actually a magical sex demon secretly possessing his bed.
Shady Past: Wah, wah, his mean ol' con man dad kept dumping girlfriends so Clay never had a mommie. Guess he better fuel all those Oedipal issues into an pathological desire to lie and manipulate people!

The Other Dude: Lord Randy, a Regency cad who sucked in the sack so his ex-girlfriend cursed him to remain in a brass bed until he magically gave one hundred women an orgasm - Jewel Heiss just happens to be the big one-oh-oh. So he has to give her several big "oh"s, if ya know what I mean.
Shady Past: Boo hoo, he's got Stockholm syndrome and doesn't like the fact that he's dependent on a woman for everything from freedom to Thai food. Guess he better fuel all those misogynist thoughts into an uncontrollable need to get nekkid and/or possess various pieces of furniture at comically inopportune times!

The Plot:
Jewel: I like sex! All the time in fact! Can't get enough of it!

Randy: *materializes* Free sex! Come and get it! Every one hundredth customer gets a free sex slave!

Jewel and Randy: *gonzo swan-human sex!*

Jewel: Too much commitment! I hate commitment! I'm such a whore and I hate it! I mean I love it! *flees*

Clay: Let's see if I can manipulate fraud investigator Jewel into having sex with me. Good morning....

Jewel: LET'S GET IT ON!

Randy: *materializes* Last one in Jewel's a rotten egg!

*unpleasant devil's threeway*

Jewel: Awww...I don't have to pick one of you guys or resolve any of my personal or sexual issues right now, do I?

Randy: Nope - we still have two sequels!

Jewel: Hurray for unresolved character development!

Romantic Convention Checklist:
1 Lady on the Street and a Freak in the Bed
1 Magically Redeemed Rake
1 Magically Redeemed Con Artist
1 Very Bad Parent
1 Case of Hilarious (?) Culture Shock
1 Very Desperate Housewife
1 Case of Bestiality

The Word: Nuh-uh, you'll have to wait until www.greenmanreview.com posts the full review!

"Not Quite a Lady," by Loretta Chase

The Chick: Lady Charlotte Hayward - the 27-year-old daughter of a wealthy marquess who is perfectly perfect in every way. So why has she spent the last ten years being perfectly perfect while subtly deflecting any possible suitor?
Shady Past: Ten years ago, a heartless rake knocked her up, than died. Her new stepmother helped her hide her pregnancy from society (and her father) and give the baby to a good home, but Charlotte's terrified that if she marries, she'll have to base their marriage on a lie or be found out to be a "soiled dove," which would bring shame on her beloved father as well as reveal his beloved wife's deception as well.

The Dude: Mr. Darius Carsington - fifth son of the earl of Hargate. Clings to logic, reason and science with a grip that would make a Vulcan proud - and takes on and abandons lovers with the same amount of scientific detachment. His exasperated father has given him an ultimatum - fix up a dilapidated property (situated next to Marquess Hayward's, convenience) within a year, or marry into money immediately.
Shady Past: Well, he is a rake - but he never seduces the innocent. And his family is rather annoyed with him - but still supportive.

The Plot:Charlotte's Dad: Hey Charlotte, need help finding a husband?

Charlotte: NO THANK YOU! *flees*

Darius' Dad: Fix up this crappy house - or get married!

Darius: PROPERTY, THANK YOU! *flees*

Charlotte and Darius: *romantic collision!*

Charlotte: Get your hands off! Hysterical-guilty-horny-irrational-woman-super-saiyan-ATTACK!

Darius: *walloped* I am in love! But it is not rational! Logic! WHY HAVE YOU FAILED ME?!

Child-who-looks-suspiciously-like-Charlotte: Hey, I'm here to help fix the crappy house!

Charlotte: I'm your mum! Er, just kidding!

Darius: What was that?

Charlotte and Darius: *sex as distraction!*

Charlotte: I have to confess....I'm not a virgin.

Darius: Well, duh.

Charlotte: That child is my son.

Darius: Duh, the sequel.

Charlotte: Can we keep him? He literally followed us home.

Inconvenient-Suitor-Morrell-Who-Also-Knows-Charlotte's-Secret: Too late, I packed him off to Ireland! Marry me?

Charlotte: WHAT?

Child: No he didn't!

Darius and Charlotte: Hooray!


Romantic Convention Checklist:1 Secret Baby
1 Inconvenient But Still Surprisingly Decent Romantic Rival
1 Relationship-Aiding Pet
4 Supportive Relatives
1 Drunken Coachman
2 Uses of Hero as Punching Bag
1 Accidental Groin Injury

The Word:Wonderful. This was a lovely book. I was so looking forward to reading it (not least of which because Julia Quinn called Chase one of the greatest romance authors of all time and because the gals at Dear Author raved over it) and it pretty much met all expectations. Excellent characterization, great writing, sex scenes that were hot as well as relevant (there's nothing that annoys me more than sex scenes that are written in that don't advance the plot at all).

The characterization was what got me most of all, especially Charlotte. Everything from her motivations for avoiding marriage to giving in to her feelings for Darius was realistic, well-explained, and beautifully written. I especially like that her first mistake, ten years ago, that resulted in a child was also motivated. Her stepmother is a brilliant, warm woman - both Charlotte and her father seriously lucked out in that area. Before Charlotte really got to know her stepmother, though, she just saw her as the woman only nine years older than herself that her father married less than a year after her mother died. Angry that her father was forgetting her mother so quickly, she made a terrible mistake that resulted in ten years of guilt.

Now of course, she's made a life for herself being the perfect daughter - the book goes on at length about how she's so nice that "even other women like her," instead of being jealous that every man within a fifty-mile radius thinks she would make top-notch wife material. Of course, her father, who is a very loving and supportive one, is insisting that she get married - he doesn't recognize that she's been knowingly showing her suitors to other, more suitable women and he genuinely thinks she should be married in order to live her life and experience true happiness. What Charlotte sees is a huge mess - if she gets married, she's certain it will be hugely obvious that she's not a virgin and will bring ruin to her family. In her mind, she's brought enough ruin to a family that has had nothing but love for her and she will do anything to avoid it.

And then there's Darius. He's a bit silly at the outset with his incredibly tenacious insistence on logic, nature, and rationality when it comes to relationships - he believes in sex (oh boy, does he ever), but love is a fairy tale. There is no example of it in the animal kingdom (which he studies and writes papers on extensively) so he doesn't believe it could really exist. He's immediately attracted to Charlotte but knows he can't do anything because he believes she's a virgin and any move he makes will only see him frog-marched to the altar on the point of a sword. However...

Reading the Smart Bitch review of it, one of the Bitches complained that it was unrealistic that Charlotte, whose life was ruined when she had unprotected sex with a rake, would engage with it with Darius. Couldn't that, in theory, just repeat her entire mistake? I have to say I disagree. Chase, with beautiful prose, expertly maintains Charlotte's inner monologue - the way she purposely denied herself happiness for ten years, her loneliness, her discovery of a mad old woman's letters decrying not having the courage to live one's life, and also the significant ways in which her relationship with Darius is nearly the complete opposite of her dalliance with the Dead Rake all served to show that her decision to connect with Darius was one founded on completely different reasons than her hook-up ten years ago. Other reviews also complained about the fantasy aspect, like how her son shows up due to luck. I dunno - maybe as a fantasy reader as well as a romance reader, I can tolerate magical coincidences more than the next person, but I wasn't at all bothered by it, and I thought it made an interesting addition to the narrative.

Another aspect of the novel that I loved was the Villain - who wasn't really a villain. In fact, I wouldn't be completely surprised if Colonel Morrell got a part in his own romance novel. An admirer of Charlotte and a long-time friend, he's actually noticed how she's been intentionally side-stepping matrimony over the years and, through ingenuity and his unscrupulous manservant, he eventually discovers her secret and still wants to marry her. At the same time, though, Chase, without actually "telling" us, "shows" us in marvelous detail just how he could never be a good match for her - and yet, he wasn't a bad person in the least. He didn't try to blackmail her (although she took it that way), he didn't plot against Darius, he didn't lie or cheat or even steal or kick puppies. He was just the wrong man for her. I loved this aspect - reading romance, I've come across a lot of exes or romantic rivals who are so obviously wrong to the point of them being assholes, that it was refreshing to come across one who was a genuinely good person, just a bad match.

I have another one of her books on my TBR shelf - Lord of Scoundrels, and I'm definitely looking forward to reading that, but I have a few other things to take care of first. Anyway, this book was definitely a A.

Tour Post, 2008

I'm back from Tour, and as per usual, I took a couple of days to relax and check FaceBook for photos before I decided to do a blog post on it. A lot of cool stuff happened, and I'm glad to say that thanks to my packing a towel, Aerius, and my sleeping bag IN my suitcase, as well as a year's worth of improvement in social skills, this tour went even better than the last one.

Day 1: Pajama Day! And MyCity to Lacombe

Today was Pajama Day, and I wore my new black PJs with purple stars on them. We had a Red Bus and a Gold Bus this Tour, and I ended up on the Gold Bus, which was named the SexyBus, whereas the Red Bus was named the Diva Bus. Turns out the SexyBus' DVD player and microphone didn't work, but since most of the bus rides on this tour were destined to be short it wasn't a huge loss. I only got a granola bar for lunch because I forgot to bring my bagged lunch when we left the house. In Lacombe, we had a long sound check because we needed to get back up to snuff on all the songs we hadn't practiced in a couple of weeks. It turned out to be the hometown of our Ex-President, so his mom helped to organize our supper which was GREAT - juicy pullapart beef on a bun and ice cream for dessert! I socialized by playing Spoons with my fellow Choir members, before getting changed for the Concert.

It was a Group Sleep in Lacombe, so we all settled down in Ex-Prez's old high school gym. It was MUCH easier getting my sleeping bag in and out of a suitcase instead of its tiny old sausage casing. Anyway, I decided to shower in the evening that day - I decided (and rightly!) that showering at night is a million times more convenient than doing it in the morning on tour, ESPECIALLY on Group Sleeps when the mornings are really crowded. I spent a lot of time managing all my stuff in the bathroom (I brought a LOT of stuff - toiletries, hair accessories, slippers, hair dryer, and somehow insisted on bringing it all with me), and so it was lights out by time I got out so I had to tip-toe around to find my sleeping bag without stepping on anybody.

Sleeping in Lacombe - well, even though we got gym mats as well as sleeping bags, I kept waking up and checking the clock on my phone and practically crying when it always said 1:00 am, 2:14 am, 3:56 am...waaaah....I woke up early at 6:45 (15 minutes before lights came on again), said to hell with it, and used my cell phone to find my morning stuff and get myself ready.

Day 2: Lacombe to Coaldale

Breakfast was coffee and muffins, provided by Ex-Prez's mom and her helpers. I got my first Secret Pal Clue and Present (a rubber chicken I named Egon and proceeded to annoy everyone with), and I gave the person I was a Secret Pal to his first task (which he did not complete), and packed a lunch which consisted of the previous night's roast beef (yum!). We then did a luggage train to pack up the bus, did the hora and went on to Coaldale.

On the drive to Coaldale, our Current Prez was given a problem to solve by his Secret Pal (something about twelve marbles, and one of them weighs either more or less than the others, and you can only do measurements on a scale three times...) that not only could he NOT solve, but no one on the SexyBus could solve either!

The drive from Lacombe to Coaldale was also the longest drive of Tour (about four hours - a big difference from the eight-hour trips last year when we went to the Yukon), so we had a half-hour stop in a tiny little town whose name I forget, but which had an EXCELLENT specialty candy store that sold just about every candy ever made, including a few things that were discontinued. I ended not really liking most of the stuff I got, so I just gave it away.

We unpacked at St Joseph's school in Coaldale, which was nice except that it smelled like cowpats (there was a farm right next door) whenever the wind blew a certain way, which it did often. We had another sound check and rehearsal, at which I found out that not everyone could get billeted in town, so I checked with my billet partner (who's pretty easy going) and requested to be one of those who didn't get billeted. I'm uncomfortable with billeting and most of my billeting experiences on Tour tended to prove my instincts correct. I played with my rubber chicken until the Tour Librarian, in a rage, body-checked me against some lockers. Ahem, I am a helpless, defenseless girl and HE, a 180-something pound, 6-foot MAN ASSAULTED ME. Please feel free to assemble an angry mob at his house whenever you wish.

Supper was spaghetti and meat sauce and this type of Indian chicken and a weird ice cream-cookie thing for dessert. People got up and did their Secret Pal tasks - most of which involved doing interpretive dances or singing (one had to do it in Spanish). A BUNCH of people all grouped together to try and solve the President's 12-marble problem. Today was the day when I also learned how to play Mafia -it's a great game of strategy and lies and scandal. I love it. Anyway, I found out from my tour manager that there weren't enough billets in Coaldale for everyone so some people would be sleeping in the gym (including the Tour Managers - they're always the last to be billeted). My billet partner is really easy-going, and I prefer group sleeps to billeting about 100%, so we volunteered to be one of the partnerships that doesn't get billeted. We then had our concert, and I gave my Secret Pal a task (a whistle which he had to blow whenever someone said the word "tired" - a task he performed with utmost reluctance) because he hadn't finished his first one which was to collect sheriff stars from among the choir.

Then came billeting and sleep - the first of which I didn't have to do. The helpful folks at the school in Coaldale gave us cots and mattresses, so I got a great night's sleep.

Day 3: Hawaiian Day! Coaldale to Medicine Hat

Today we had breakfast at the school, which they provided - pancakes and sausages and juice and coffee. I took mine with lots of sugar. Today was Hawaiian day, but also the day of a school concert, so I kept my Hawaiian clothes under my Tour School Concert clothes. We had a pretty good school concert, and the school favoured us with a group blessing (it was a Catholic school). What was funny was that as part of our concert, we had a Barbershop Quartet that got up to sing, composed of two choristers, our Accompanist, and our Assistant Conductor. They sang "Goodbye, My Coney Island Baby" and also a song about baby-loving - all about how they loved their girl because she looked like a baby ("baby hair, baby eyes, baby face" etc.) and how they wanted to "rock her in their cradle of love". I thought it was particularly hilarious that they were singing a song about that type of thing in front of KINDERGARTENERS. Needless to say, at other school concerts, they only sang "Coney Island Baby" and then the handbell quartet took over. Then everyone got into their Hawaiian gear and started packing up the bus. My billet-partner, I think, had the best costume, but she ended up not winning the prize.

We arrived in Medicine Hat, and practiced in a church with GORGEOUS stained glass windows that were, delightfully enough, very reminiscent of the windows used in "Beauty and the Beast," whose song medley we were singing. After that came free time. My friends and I wandered around Medicine hat, looking in odd stores, when we came to the weirdest place. It was as if the couple who owned it had inherited a lot of money and decided to use it to open a store.

"What should we sell?" one would ask.

"Our favourite things!" one would reply, which to them, would mean only two things.

"LINGERIE AND ICE CREAM!"

I kid you not. It was a lingerie and ice cream store! With a bunch of aquamassage booths in the back. How completely random! At the front was the convenience/ice cream store, and in the back was sexy, frilly, naughty lingerie. It seemed a little impractical to me - what with the increased risk of soiling delicate undergarments with food now that food and delicate undergarments were sold in the SAME BUILDING. Also, the saleslady working there was TERRIFYING - she had brittle, frizzy bleached blond hair and a particularly abhorrent style of makeup which requires one to slather eyelids, lips, and pretty much all visible facial skin with the exact same shade of unnatural peach cosmetics. She also had inch-long, neon-orange fingernails. I got out of there as quick as I could.

The supper at the church was delicious - the volunteers provided a nice buffet of lasagna, meat balls, potato salad, meatballs, coleslaw, and meatballs. And a cake. None of the deserts were guaranteed nut-free so I had a sugary cup of coffee instead. Then a quick game of Mafia (quick because I was killed early on and I'm a sore loser), and the concert.

Then came billeting - my partner and I weren't escaping this one. We ended up with a nice music teacher and her Lutheran paster husband. I wish my experience there could have been a pleasant one.

Day 4: Celebrity Day! Medicine Hat to Brooks

I didn't get much sleep, and then when I ate their breakfast I had an allergic reaction. They hadn't given me anything with nuts, they were aware of my allergy, but they'd given me a cinnamon bun that had been in a bag in which they had previously stored cinnamon buns with walnuts. So yeah - I took a bunch of Benedryl, and spent 20 terrified minutes doing the Rosary on my fingers and hoping I wouldn't have to use my EpiPen or go to the hospital or miss tour. I didn't swell up or anything, but I threw out the lunch they gave me and had a huge, pulsing tension headache for the rest of the day which required me to miss out on singing at the concert at Brooks.

Anyway, I still had the presence of mind to dress up in my Celebrity Costume (the costume I'd put the most effort into), and before we left for Brooks, we were given a tour of Medicine Hat's new Esplanade, a really high-tech acoustically innovative concert hall they have. I couldn't enjoy it too much because of my terrible headache. Then the busride to Brooks.

I didn't have lunch, but I figured there would be time to go and buy some, but there really wasn't. I felt horrible and hungry and head-achy, but then one of the choristers who wasn't singing that night either because she lost her voice took me to the new Safeway in Brooks. There and back, we passed a Catholic church that had a tombstone on its front lawn that read: "For All Unborn Children" on it. Wow, I thought, that's ballsy.

Dinner was chili, and another cup of sweet hot coffee for me because the desserts weren't guaranteed nut-free and there was no way that today I would be taking a chance and having anything. I didn't sing, but I sat in the back and listened. There was a weird smell in the air that I thought was because someone had passed wind, but I found out where it came from the next day, but more on that later.

Today, my Billet Partner and I were billeted with a single mom who had an excitable little dog to whom she spoke whenever she wasn't speaking to us, which made it weird to tell to whom she was speaking. It was a good bed, though, and I slept through the night and woke up feeling better.

Day 5: Brooks to Drumheller

Breakfast was a modest affair - I just had cereal, and the lunches were iffy. Our billet was pretty last-minute and she didn't know if she had the supplies to provide us with lunches, so I took whatever was offered and traded it in for one of my Tour Manager's Back-Up Lunches (some of the other last-minute billets hadn't been able to scrounge up lunch, either). Our billet drove us to the school (her precious dog rode shotgun, on my billet partner's lap) and we got out. There was that smell, in the air, everywhere. Turns out there's a meat packing plant really close to Brooks. Well, that explains it.

We had another school concert in one of the elementary schools of Brooks. It was kind of disturbing, because everywhere we went there was this pervasive theme of yellow smiley faces, including a GIANT SMILEY FACE right behind us as we set up in the gym. It was really weird, I didn't even notice the giant smiley face glaring at us until about halfway through rehearsal. Also, in the gym at the school in Brooks, there was a light switch that had about half a dozen "FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, DON'T TOUCH THIS SWITCH!" warnings written around it, so many that one of the choristers suspected that if we flipped it, the evil smiley face of DOOM behind us would open up and unleash the hounds of hell to devour our souls. Noooo! Smiley faces! The smiley face officially became the Symbol of Terror for the rest of Tour.

After that, we had our Hora and had to do our secret pal tasks - some of which (including mine) had to be somewhat...curtailed because it was recess and a bunch of kids were watching our Hora with avid interest. That meant our President couldn't do his task (which he interpreted to mean reading a speech that had the word "penis" in it several times), and I had to change the lyrics to a song I had to write. My task was this - I had to utter a password to find five objects (all crayons that turned out to be penis-shaped...classy) then use them to draw a superhero version of me and write a theme song. I did, and it involved my skills at drawing with phallic-themed writing utensils, but I couldn't put that in.

Then on the bus to Drumheller! There were giant dinosaurs EVERYWHERE, but the church we were singing in was so small it took two hours for the moving crew to maneuver everything inside.

Drumheller was also Hotel Night, and we were served a barbeque burger dinner at the Hotel and had some free time. I bought a souvenir for my secret pal and some booze for Hotel Night (Bacardi Breezers because they're supposed to be so sweet you can't taste the alcohol). We had our concert, then we returned to the Hotel, only to find out that the closest bar (a Bo'Diddly's), which was right next to the hotel, which was, ahem, separated from the rest of Drumheller by a bridge and lots of traffic, and CLOSED EARLY ON ACCOUNT OF US. Our Tour Manager, thoughtfully, had gone to them beforehand to warn them that 80 plus choir people would be converging on their place of business with good hard-earned money, and the cowardly Bo'Diddly's folk screamed in terror and closed their bar three hours early. The nearest bar after THAT was apparently about a half an hour's walk away.

The liquor store next to the hotel was still open, so most of Hotel Night was in our hotel (or, more accurate, motel) rooms. Three of our members were shotgunning beers off a balcony within five minutes, a bunch of people lit up stogies on a picnic table nearby (classy gents!), and people moved in clots from room to room. The main party room had to be evacuated as we learned that not one, but TWO families with small children had just arrived and checked into the rooms directly below. After that, people starting wandering. I had one Bacardi Breezer and a sip of a Porn Star for the entire night, but I liked following people around. I walked with a group over to a giant dinosaur statue, when one of our number (delighted to learn she had passed her nurse's exam, and celebrating with liquid refreshment) nearly walked out into a busy street, then walked into a fountain, then several other things. Some funny pictures were taken on the Dinosaur - one person apparently peed on it (then whined about how he'd had "to cut it short because everyone was taking pictures"). Then people wandered back to the Hotel.

I'd been having fun, and I ended up in a room with a couple of the Tour Managers and some of the senior members of the choir where things were little more responsible. I was having a lot of fun, and didn't need to chug anything, and around 1:30 in the morning decided to head back to my room. It was a fun Hotel Night, and I'd actually gone out and DONE something instead of just staying in my room like a limp blanket like I did last year.

Day 6: Be Your Billet Partner Day! Drumheller to Three Hills

Waking up after Hotel Night is almost as much fun as Hotel Night itself. I woke up at six, and found out my billet partner had never returned to her hotel room. The Tour Managers had made it pretty clear that while people could go from room to room, they HAD to be back in their Hotel Rooms to sleep, just so that they could keep track of everyone. I, rather panicked I guess, called the Tour Managers at 6:30 to tell them, and my billet parter was found, woken up, and sent back to her room. She'd fallen asleep in another room by accident, and I felt kinda lame, but noone really blamed me - my billet partner especially.

Since I was up early, I had an early shower, which was incredibly lucky - an hour and a half later, when everyone else started (for some, struggled) to wake up, and pretty much simultaneously threw themselves into the shower, it only took about ten minutes for ALL the Hotel's hot water to run out and their well to overdraw so later people didn't even have DRINKING WATER much less hot showers.

Today was Be Your Billet Partner Day, so my billet parter outfitted me in a dress that did NOT fit - it wasn't too tight or anything, but the cut made me look like a sausage, and the pigtails I tied to look like my billet partner were not that flattering on me.

Once everyone was up and packed, we headed for the Smitty's for post-Hotel Night brunch. Yum. Pancakes and fried potatoes and bacon and coffee! After that, we all piled back into the bus and drove to the nearby, beautiful Horseshoe Canyon to take group pictures. After that, we went to Three Hills, a tiny, gorgeous small town that was our Choir Director's hometown!

While in reality it's more like Two Hills and a Bump, and it doesn't have a bookstore or a movie theatre (instead, it has a basement under a costume shop with beanbag chairs where everyone watches the newest rental releases), I kinda fell in love with the town. It's surrounded by flat, open land and gorgeous fields of grain, and it's incredibly religious (11 churches in a town of 3000 people!). I think I would really love to live there and write my books.

Supper was lasagna and garlic bread, and during free time, everyone was getting started on writing the programs - it's kind of like a yearbook thing, where everyone gets a Tour Program and everyone signs it and leaves a message in it. We had our concert at the high school, and not only that, we found a yearbook that showed our Choir Director, at age SEVENTEEN! He's, uh, "thirty-two" now, so it was amazing to see a picture of him when he was so young! I forgot my binder at this concert, so I borrowed an extra one, which I didn't really need because I knew all the songs by heart, anyway.

After the concert, we had a group sleep in a church - which we quickly divided into a "quiet room" (with all the sleeping bags) and a "talking room." A bunch of people in choir were very sick (for some it's an unwanted tradition) and needed their rest. I went to the "talking room" and signed programs. A bunch of people were going to practice their skits, and I found out my two friends on tour (one of whom is my billet parter) were concocting a Broadway medley skit without me. I love showtunes, so I felt really hurt, and then I started feeling depressed. It's harder for me to make friends than most people, so when I walk into a room and everyone's in a group but me, I feel like I'm being the odd one out again, which I know isn't always the case, but I've been so used to being alone that I always feel like I'm reverting to my friendless self if I'm not endlessly socializing. I went back to my sleeping bag and spent a few minutes feeling incredibly, self-indulgently sorry for my self, blew my nose on a kleenex, and went to sleep.

Day 7: Three Hills to Stettler

Today was an interesting day. We woke up to a delicious pancakes and sausage breakfast, went away with a great lunch donated by the local convenience store (pop and candy and a great sandwich!) and packed ourselves into the bus. I missed Three Hills almost immediately - it's such a beautiful town. I kinda wish I wanted to move there. Anyway, at this point of the Tour I was nervous, and not for a Tour reason.

I'd applied for a job the week before, with the University Library. It was the PERFECT job - nine-to-five, no evenings or weekends, and the University was never one to screw around with hours or benefits. It was a contract job that would last a year, so I wouldn't have to quit to go to VFS. It was a job I'd never had before, which was why I was worried. I wanted that job so badly I didn't want to apply for other jobs, they just didn't seem worth it in comparison, so I was equally worried that if I didn't get the job I was fucking screwed. I didn't have to start until May 5th, because the trainer was on vacation, and they said they would call everyone who applied, even the ones who didn't get it, so I told them to call my mum because I would be on tour - similarly, I was waiting for Mum to phone me and tell me I got the job (or didn't). By this time, it was Friday, the job supposedly started on Monday, and no call. I called Mum several times, worried, and then I called Sharon Marshall several times (voicemail, thank God), but no luck. Mum told me not to think about it, there was nothing I could do at this point, and it wouldn't do to ruin my tour with helpless worrying, but still I worried.

The day was far more interesting than that, however - we arrived in Stettler for our final school concert. And boy, was it ever a ... "special" concert. Things went mostly well, at first, but then our Choir Director came forward to "introduce" the handbells to the kids in the audience. He'd talk about the smallest bell, and one of the ringers would ring it, and then he talked about the huge, 22-pound F2 bell, and then our Ex-Prez got up, gave it a swing, and SNAP! The ENORMOUS, 22-POUND BELL snapped RIGHT OFF, flew about a foot, and LANDED on the ground with a thunk!

...

The concert was kind of downhill from there. Most of the school-concert pranks we do that are tradition fell flat after the bell, and Ex-Prez was afraid to ring the other large bells with any force because he didn't want them to break either. He also said later that he screwed up the piano playing too because his hands were shaking so badly. We were lucky that bell hadn't hit a child. Or the littlest-bell ringer, directly in FRONT of Ex-Prez.

After the school concert, all the engineers in choir examined the bell and the handle. The bell, miraculously, had survived without either a scratch or a dent, and the cause of the break was determined to be "inner fatigue" - all the stress happened on the inner material of the handle so no stress showed on the outside of it.

Supper was at the church - it was delicious salads and roastbeef sandwiches and the kitchen is a NUT FREE kitchen so I could have the desserts! YEAH! I also "quit" my secret pal because he had steadfastly refused to do any of my tasks on time. I told him so in a note, and decided to keep all of his prizes for myself, which was fun - I bought a ribbon stick which turned out to be absurdly entertaining.

I like to think that partially because of that terrible performance at the school, our adult concert in a Stettler Lutheran church was one of the best we ever had - one of the women in the front row was crying. The sound check for our Stettler concert was also full of jokes and energy, which I think is the choir's way of coping with a series of tragic events. It was a great concert, and then it was time for the last billet.

Turns out I lucked out on the last billet - we got taken to a huge house with several beds and huge rooms, and the people insisted on feeding us after the concert. Actually, all of my billets had tried to feed us after the concert. Usually I tended to decline because I'm usually full from dinner, but there were several other choristers billeting with us, too, so we had chips and popcorn and pop - and a great shower.

Sleeping was not such a nice matter - my billet partner got a single bed, so took the basement couch double with another person's billet partner, and someone I knew from elementary school. She was sick with a cold that day, and when she's sick with a cold - she SNORES. While she's AWAKE, and asleep. A damn deathrattle. I spent the night listening to Disney songs on my iPod trying to drown it out and thinking very evil thoughts about what I wanted to do to them once it was morning. Of course, once it's morning and everyone else is awake and cheery I never actually have the stones to do anything, so nothing happened except for frustration.

Day 8: Stettler to Forestburg

Woke up, our billets treated us to a great breakfast of juice, coffee, pancakes and strawberries. I was still pretty groggy from having, like, zero sleep, but I made it out. It was Pirates vs. Vikings day, but I just didn't have the energy to dress up. We were all driven back to the church, where we had our Hora and packed into the bus to go to Forestburg, which was the hometown of at least two prominent people in choir so it was a big deal.

It was a teeny-tiny, little town, and we had our soundcheck, and THEN we had about five hours of free time! Most people spent it practicing their skits, but since I wasn't in any (and decided to cancel my reading of my short story as it turned out it was take 15 minutes), I didn't have much to do. For a joke, the members of the Luggage Train had arranged all the sleeping bags and luggage in rainbow order. I went with a couple of friends to the local liquor and grocery stores to purchase supplies for Skit Night, which was tonight. For me, that meant getting portable pornstar shots (to mix with sprite - because there was no way I was paying $40 for a full-size bottle of raspberry Sourpuss and a full-size bottle of blue curecao, which was all they had), chips, and twizzlers.

We came back to have a GREAT supper - I'm talking delicious slabs of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and gravy - a seriously awesome meal from the folks at Forestburg. We were eating it in the community centre, I think, in which we would perform and have skit night. There, we learned that the new wooden flooring in the centre of the room wasn't finished so NO LIQUIDS at all were allowed on it. At first choristers were worried because liquid refreshment (in reasonable doses) is tradition on skitnight, but the wood floor was only in the centre of the room, surrounded by a wide margin of carpet and linoleum so it wouldn't be that bad. That's also when I learned that our concert was also part of a benefit to rebuild a brick wall that had fallen down - so THAT was what that huge pile of broken brick by the community centre was!

We all got dressed for concert, and I took a lot of time to talk to M - she was in choir for NINE YEARS and has been my friend throughout, but she finally decided to leave this year, so this would be her final performance. You're allowed to stay in choir for as long as you want, really, after you graduate, but it's uncommon for most people to stay past the ten-year mark. We had our concert, which went really well, and when we all filed outside afterwards some were crying - me especially. It wasn't a huge cryfest like last year (when about seven or eight of the choir's old guard left), but there still was a lot of crying. This year, I was teary because I always have trouble making friends, and nearly all of my best friends are in choir, so I didn't really know what the hell I would be doing without Choir.

THEN, it was time to prepare for Skit Night! Out came the sleeping bags, and most of us changed into our pajamas and brought out our snacks, and a table was set up at the end of the room where people who still hadn't signed all the programs could continue signing them. Some of them NEVER got to sign all of the programs, which was really sad (the Social Convener didn't have time to sign mine, for instance). Anyway - skits! First, there was the Bell Skit, and then the Counter-Bell Skit, which I ended up being in (a wordless role with instructions written on a sheet of paper). And then there were loads of other skits. I was in another one too - "Beast Idol." Last year, because of the HUGE line of girls auditioning for the Ariel solo for our "Little Mermaid" medley last year, we had "Mermaid Idol," where terrible people would audition for the solo and our Ex-Prez and Assistant Conductor would be Simon and Paula, respectively.

This year, it was "Beast Idol," and my bit was to sing "Something There," only with the words to "Part of Your World" - which had everyone laughing because they all got it (I had the solo on tour last year). My friends had their Broadway Babies medley, then the Barbershop Quartet got up and sang hilarious songs ("The Night We Got Grandma Plastered," "Skullcrusher Mountain," and the Arrogant Worms' "My Voice is Changing"). There were also speeches in between, including ones made by the Prez and the Social Convener in which they said NEXT year would be their last year with choir - same as mine.

I didn't actually get to drink that much on Skit Night - the room was INCREDIBLY warm, and everytime I drank anything alcoholic I'd feel that much warmer, so I stopped that soon enough.

Skit night lasted WAY longer than last year - probably because we had more free time to come up with skits and rehearse them. Skit night last year ended at about, oh, two a.m. This year it stretched all the way to 4:30 in the morning! And we had to wake up at NINE to pack up to go home! There was a lot of crying at the end of skit night, though, by everyone this time. Choir is such an interesting experience - the first two or three days are a blast, and then you reach the hump and think "we have HOW MANY more days of this?" and you're exhausted and miss regular sleep patterns and homecooked food, but then suddenly it's the end of skit night and you don't want Tour to end and you even feel guilty that you were ever tired of it.

Day 9: Forestburg to Home

We woke up in the morning, found out the breakfast muffins the Lunchmothers had packed had gone all moldy (we'd never had to use them because everyone in all the towns we'd been at had been unbelievably generous) - but the folks at Forestburg left us the leftovers of dinner. So my breakfast was Twizzlers and roast beef. Yum!

We cleaned up, packed up, had our last Hora, took a bunch of pictures, and got on the bus. We'd had a great tour, and on the way back to Home one of the choristers who'd made a list of Memorable Quotes on Tour read them out loud, and I got a few laughs for my quotation "Dinosaurs and Rainbows and Jesus! Oh My!" when we passed the Creation Museum on the way out of Three Hills.

We got out and were unpacked surprisingly quickly - this year, we apparently had a much bigger and more cooperative Moving Crew than last year, when there were only a few, so we had everything packed up pretty quickly. The programs were given out, and also, the Execs named the #1 ChoirBoy and #1 ChoirGirl - extra prizes they'd given to people who weren't exec but had participated in everything on tour. My FRIEND (who was in the Broadway sketch but wasn't my billet partner) wow #1 Choirgirl and burst out crying! How awesome is that (the winning, not the crying)?

And then my sister showed up to bitch at me for sending her to the wrong parking lot, and it was time to go. Tour was over.

Next year is going to my own last year of Choir (I'm going to Vancouver after that), so I'm going to go to every length to enjoy every minute of it - not just Tour.