Paperback Reader

Jennifer Crusie's beloved Anyone But You was originally released in 1996. HQN has re-released this classic title in hardcover this month. I fell madly in love with the book when I first read it, and was pleased to know that my memory didn't fail me. It is a rare romance that stands the test of time -- it is even rarer for a category romance to rise above the sheer volume of titles released every month. That so many of Jennifer Crusie's titles are remembered fondly is a testament to her skill as a writer and storyteller.

I am a heretical Regency fan. I don’t care much about historical accuracy. Don’t worry about lines of succession. And, frankly, I’m not all that much fascinated by muslin, sprigged or not. When it comes to reading Regency, I’m all about the style of the story.

Michelle Martin’s The Adventurers, published in 1996 (and sadly out-of-print – go forth, pay lots of money on the black market for this one), is one of my favorite Regencies. Let’s call it my comfort Regency. Oh sure, I adore all of Martin’s work, but The Adventurers is the one I pick up first, second, and last.

Lorna Freeman and I both worship happily at the altar of Georgette Heyer. We discovered this the usual way. You know how it goes...you enter into casual conversation with a new friend, "Hey, wow, so you like Regencies?" She says, "I've been known to read a few in my day." You look at the ground and say shyly, "So, read any Heyer?" She's far cooler than you, but not quite sure where the conversation is going. "Some."

You grow bold. This is a rare moment. Probably not to repeated in this century You say, "So, wanna co-review Black Sheep with me?"

Much to your surprise and happiness, she agrees. Eagerly. You have found a soul mate. Which is good, because Black Sheep is all about soul mates. The good kind, the you-honestly-believe-these-people-are-meant-for-each-other kind, the you want this romance to go on forever kind. Black Sheep is romance at its best. Trust us. We've hardly every lied to you.

When I signed on to Paperback Reader, I inserted a clause in my agreement to the effect that there would be a team review of Welcome To Temptation during my first year of employment. In retrospect, I probably should have gone for the signing bonus. You live, you learn.

So, what with one thing and the other, a year passed, but the dream remained alive (also, I forgot to insert language about what would happen if said review failed to materialize). And...here it is. A review of Welcome to Temptation by Jennifer Crusie. It should probably go without saying, but there is not a single unbiased word in the lengthy discussion Wendy and I had. We didn't even attempt to fake impartiality. Had someone (name withheld, but initials are HK) kept her promise to read with us, maybe things would be different. We'll never know, will we?

Welcome to Temptation is the story of a girl, her family, and her dog. Or maybe it's the story of a boy, his town's water tower, and his pool table. Sophie Dempsey comes to Temptation with her sister Amy to film a screen test for D-list movie star, Clea Whipple. Phineas Tucker, mayor of Temptation (three generations and counting), learns that there might be loose women (and possibly a porn flick being produced) out at the Whipple farm. Phin isn't opposed to loose women on principle -- too bad because Sophie's wound so tight with nerves, she might snap.

Which means, yes, porn is happening, but only the vanilla kind, and Sophie is sure she's going to be thrown out town pronto. What happens next? Political maneuvering, phallic, flesh-colored water towers, family strife, thwarted ambition, con games, blackmail, apparent murder, softball games, and pool. Not necessarily in that order. Suffice to say that a lot of paint was sacrificed in the making of this story.

What? You want a detailed, linear synopsis? Better that you read the book. But read our review first. We gush.

I can't explain why I am sometimes compelled to go into the scary place that is my garage and root around in boxes in search of a specific book. It's like a chemical reaction that I can't control -- I wake up and nothing will make me happy except for that one specific book (generally that one specific book is also located in a box under a zillion other boxes, meaning I work up a sweat before I get to read. Beats hitting the gym.).

A couple of weekends ago, I woke up with a powerful need to read Susan Elizabeth Phillips' Dream A Little Dream. It turns out that I get this urge about once a year, give or take. I love this book. I love this book despite the fact that I spend a good three quarters of my reading time in tears. Please do not tell anyone about that -- I do not cry easily (what is the old saying? There's no crying in reviewing?). But this book does me in. Every. Single. Time.

Jayne Ann Krentz, in her many forms, has long been a favorite here at PBR. Specifically, JAK is a favorite of Kassia and HelenKay. It would be fair to say JAK is a distinct non-favorite of others (others in this case being Wendy). For those readers who discovered romance novels through JAK (those in this case being HelenKay), her work is a comfort, much like chenille blankets and potato chips. For some (some in this case being Kassia), JAK qualifies as an automatic reading pleasure and her early title, Absolutely, Positively, replete with robots and circus tricks, stands as one of JAK's most enjoyable works. So, in the spirit of promoting comfort, Kassia and HelenKay decided to revisit (without Wendy and her negativity) JAK's world of slim vegan heroines and controlling business-type heroes by checking in on an all-time fav. All members of PBR (both the pro-JAK crowd and Wendy) hope you will forgive the fangirl love.

You know what I fear? Okay, other than that. Everyone fears that. What I fear is someday actually being forced to cull my book collection down to a mere dozen titles. Like, oh, something happens and I really do have to spend the rest of my days on a desert island. Just me and my desert island book collection.

Can you imagine anything more terrifying? What if you made the wrong choice? What if you can’t choose just twelve? What if the future of the world depends on you making this momentous decision…and you can barely limit yourself to twenty, much less a dozen?

It keeps me awake at night, you know?

Each time I read Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged I am struck by one (okay, more, but stick with me) thought: once you get past all the speechifying and selfless self-sacrifice on the altar of money, it’s a romance novel. Pure and simple. Follows the so-called formula to the letter.

We all know the story. The world’s elite have come under the grip of Extreme socialism bordering on out-and-out Communism. The idea of producing for the bottom line of a company – or worse, to line the pockets of the company’s owners – is an anathema. No thinking person works for the individual good; the collective good is all that matters.

In the course of imposing this theory on the world, these philosophical elites drive all the thinking, doing folk of the world underground. The ones who can actually make things work are, in the words of one character, on strike. They won’t make money for The Man. It is Rand’s private little joke that The Man is a hand-wringing do-gooder.

File under: better late than never Hanukkah reviews.*

So, yeah, a while back, the discussion turned to holiday books and possible holiday book reviews. While I didn't say it then, I'll say it now: I pretty much hate holiday themed romance novels. There's something about the forced conflict, the fake celebrations, and general shoving of square pegs into round holes that make these books feel contrived. Or, maybe to put it another way, rather than the holiday serving as an organic plot element, it sticks out like a certain reindeer.

Without the cute song and generally inspiring message.

I sort of decided to punt on the whole holiday book review thing, and, if I do say so myself, did a fairly good job. Until the niggle. It's always the niggle, you know? A few years ago (has it really been that long?), I reviewed two inspirational romances with Christmas themes. Both books, written by different authors, were distressingly similar -- and equally unsatisfying. To the point where the romantic and inspirational elements were paint-by-numbers interesting. In fact, if I recall correctly, I lamented the genuine lack of faith reflected in most so-called inspirational romances.**