Poor Louise Allen’s Brouhaha

I read romance for the entertainment value and nothing else. If the book touched me in some way – if it made me cry, laugh or sigh – if the plot and characters stayed with me after I closed the last page, then I find it a successful read. Because it is my choice and money, I’m not going to worry that by reading a Mills and Boon book I’m setting back womanhood several year by indulging misogynistic views which perpetuate the long suffering roles accorded to women by society’s paternalistic propaganda. Who knew that little ‘ol me could be brainwashed by reading a Harlequin romance? I’m that fragile and innocent. Now that I find funny.

No, when I purchase a book the only thing I take into consideration is that I get good value for my dollar. Books are expensive and I have a limited budget for entertainment purpose. I can’t afford either by money or ulcer any kind of wall bangers. So even though I might be curious about the brouhaha created by Louise Allen’s Virgin Slave, Barbarian King, there is no way in hell I am picking up this book. I stopped reading Harlequin years ago. I found them formulaic and boring not to mention that I couldn’t find a single title or heroine that I could identify with. I am not a virgin (surprise, surprise) and the supply of millionaire and CEO’s that could sweep me off my feet has gone down the drain.

Harlequin might be surprised to find out that most women have not met a millionaire, a Sheik or whatever formulaic hero they decided that week would be the perfect theme. Sometimes they try to include an every day Joe that isn’t so every day Joe. The amount of detectives and cops has risen as heroes, but since the only brush I’ve had with the law has been to complain about one of my sons, I think I’ll pass.

I understand that if something works you don’t change it, but publishers have to keep up with the times because if not, someone else will and the publishing house and authors suffer. What I was reading back in 1982 is not what I am reading now. When I look at the Harlequin lines it makes me wonder what the hell are their editors thinking. You have American Romance, love between Americans set in the good ‘ol USA. The Blaze books bleed sex, but since I’m menopausal I couldn’t give a damn. Harlequin Everlasting love, an oxymoron if I ever heard one. I gather they haven’t heard about divorce or the hubby that after 40 got the itch for his young secretary. Harlequin Medical which has nurses and doctors getting it on between operations and treatments. I was married to a doctor, there’s a reason why he’s the ex. They make lousy husbands. Then there’s Harlequin NASCAR where racers use that pit stop for more than changing the tire. I’m waiting for Mills and Boon to create an aging Baby Boomers line where the hero and heroine over the senior special at Denny’s discuss their hormonal treatments, Viagra, Botox and liposuction, bemoaning the fact how little their social security check stretches to cover bare essentials.

 

If the content has become questionable, the covers and titles are even worse, the amount of virgin and hidden baby themes are still very present. I will buy a Harlequin again if ever they include child support in one of their titles. I’m not going to discuss covers because I’d need more space. Needless to say I’m getting tired of hiding my books behind other purchases because some of the covers and titles make the teenage kid snicker while he charges me for the books. I’m not amused.

Of this debacle the only one that holds my sympathy and admiration is Louise Allen. She has behaved elegantly. Very professionally. She is a writer, so she wrote a book to entertain the masses. She didn’t write it to change the world or perpetuate any kind of myth or behavior. Nor did she write it to be meticulously analyzed by all a thunder. It is a friggin’ romance book, Bindel, get over it. Maybe you need to get laid. I’m just saying…