As with all the greatest fiction ever committed to the remains of trees, A Few Good Men asked so many questions and offered few answers, allowing the reader to ruminate on such topics as the inevitability of fate and how lazy, nonsensical writing makes for infuriating reading. Would the Mills & Boon heroes and heroines find love with those they were already in love with when their stories began? Did the marines really have syphilis or was that just a strange coincidence that in hindsight made no sense? Would anyone else point out that Brian Justice's name was unfortunate? Would any lawyers notice the book used song lyrics without the composer's permission? Would the Revealing Briefs / Tight Shorts concept take off and will Bewildered Heart see any financial reward for those pithy choices of phrase?
Tori Carrington wrapped up her A Few Good Men collection with a final good man and a brief prologue that turned out to be unnecessary. Most of the questions were handled with the typical intelligence and delicate use of symbolism the reader has come to expect from the Carrington Formula. What the Carrington Formula is, however, remains a mystery, but it would appear to work the same as every formula used by a Harlequin exponent: Pointless use of exposition to explain background that has nothing to do with propulsion of narrative, description of marine being handsome and tall, fleeting scenes of couple innocently touching, touching leading to interior monologue mentioning heat and electricity as metaphors for sexual heat and sexual electricity, home-owning is attractive, gratuitously detailed sex scene using embarrassing euphemisms, post-coital misunderstanding, inexplicable reaction to misunderstanding, staring from window, pointless explanation of character motives, kiss and hug set against sunset backdrop. Repeat four times, please don't make us read anymore.
Brian Justice chose a military career as an act of rebellion against the family business, and his decision to go it alone ended up being more literal than he might have expected. With his latest tour of duty completed Brian returns home without anyone waiting for him at the gate. He is surprised, therefore, to see a beautiful lady waiting for him at the gate. Her name is forgettable, and she works with orphaned kids, including a pale, red-headed, freckled tyke with a face that not even a mother could love. We know this because his mother really was unable to love him, thus explaining his abandoned status. Despite Brian's reluctance to become involved with anyone who isn't beautiful, Oscar, the kid in question, says he and his pals seek a few good men (as if this quote is where the author got the title). The children's centre wants to implement a big brother scheme and who better, they think, than state-sanctioned killing machines with post traumatic stress disorder? It's a rhetorical question, to add to the list that opened this blog entry. Brian is reticent, naturally, but soon changes his mind when the female stranger offers him key lime pie and no strings sex. After all, as Carrington so perceptively points out, a long time without sex combined with a sexy woman equals sex. Sex = No Sex + Lady. That sounds mathematical, so it must be true, and as Angela presses her panty-covered mound against his throbbing erection Brian is in no position to use logic against the author's flawless equation.
Shortly thereafter, Brian awakes from a nightmarish flashback to his time in Iraq and storms out of Angela's life without so much as a goodbye, thanks for the pie, two-sentence conversation and no-strings sex that actually did have strings attached because now they are in love with each other. Angela is dismayed and more than a little irked. As unlikely as it sounds she does not sleep with any old random man she meets and then has sex with. Oh no, she's a quiet, unassuming girl with a passion for cooking, helping children and being sweet-natured. It's not her fault that Brian is so damn attractive and tall. How was she to know he had so many traumatic experiences in his past and probable jail time in his future, thanks to all that murder of civilians he'd done? She was in love with him, but she's no mind reader!
Of course, that sounds suspiciously like cynicism and Angela does not deserve that. Mills & Boon novels have such little story and so much characterisation the reader cannot expect credible relationships between hero and heroine to boot. They should be satisfied with a sex scene, a tragic back-story and a walk along the beach. That's enough for this couple, as it is with real people. Brian and Angela soon patch up their differences, and bond over their shared desire to do right by Oscar and their fondness of expository dialogue in scenic locations. Yet before they can settle down to a few days of domestic bliss, Brian must face a military tribunal over his conduct during a house search. Brian is too nice and honourable to have killed anyone, besides all the people he has killed, so we expect the matter to be cleared up and naturally, it is thanks to the predictable return of Eric, Eddie and Matt. The brothers-in-arms speak on Brian's behalf, and clear his name, heaping blame on Lance Corporal Chris Conrad. He was the one who shot all those Iraqis, and why, because of those cursed energy soda drinks. Chris also appears to be a jerk. Why the most interesting person in the book has the fewest lines is baffling. Jerks giddied up on energy drinks ruin our every waking moment, surely it is only a matter of time before they invade the sanctity of literature.
We end, appropriately, with an epilogue, where we are reminded of the characters we were reading about moments before. Brian has someone to wave to when he boards the military plane. Matt's wife and children have accepted they must play second fiddle to his first love, persecuting Muslims. Eddie has his new job, whatever that was, and his baby and Megan. Finally, Eric... Well, you can assume Eric is alright. The only thing left to discuss, and we knew this was coming, is the soldiers' shared case of gonorrhoea, but as Tori Carrington glossed over that sub-plot this review must do the same. Nevertheless, Matt did not have it because he was married the whole time. But the other three, and why not, Chris too, they definitely contracted something out there, making A Few Good Men the first Mills & Boon book to have a sexually transmitted disease being passed around despite no actual evidence of such a thing occuring. That almost makes it worthwhile. Add that to the list of unexpected things that only happened in our imagined projection onto the page. Is anyone keeping that list up-to-date? Google?
Tori Carrington wrapped up her A Few Good Men collection with a final good man and a brief prologue that turned out to be unnecessary. Most of the questions were handled with the typical intelligence and delicate use of symbolism the reader has come to expect from the Carrington Formula. What the Carrington Formula is, however, remains a mystery, but it would appear to work the same as every formula used by a Harlequin exponent: Pointless use of exposition to explain background that has nothing to do with propulsion of narrative, description of marine being handsome and tall, fleeting scenes of couple innocently touching, touching leading to interior monologue mentioning heat and electricity as metaphors for sexual heat and sexual electricity, home-owning is attractive, gratuitously detailed sex scene using embarrassing euphemisms, post-coital misunderstanding, inexplicable reaction to misunderstanding, staring from window, pointless explanation of character motives, kiss and hug set against sunset backdrop. Repeat four times, please don't make us read anymore.
Brian Justice chose a military career as an act of rebellion against the family business, and his decision to go it alone ended up being more literal than he might have expected. With his latest tour of duty completed Brian returns home without anyone waiting for him at the gate. He is surprised, therefore, to see a beautiful lady waiting for him at the gate. Her name is forgettable, and she works with orphaned kids, including a pale, red-headed, freckled tyke with a face that not even a mother could love. We know this because his mother really was unable to love him, thus explaining his abandoned status. Despite Brian's reluctance to become involved with anyone who isn't beautiful, Oscar, the kid in question, says he and his pals seek a few good men (as if this quote is where the author got the title). The children's centre wants to implement a big brother scheme and who better, they think, than state-sanctioned killing machines with post traumatic stress disorder? It's a rhetorical question, to add to the list that opened this blog entry. Brian is reticent, naturally, but soon changes his mind when the female stranger offers him key lime pie and no strings sex. After all, as Carrington so perceptively points out, a long time without sex combined with a sexy woman equals sex. Sex = No Sex + Lady. That sounds mathematical, so it must be true, and as Angela presses her panty-covered mound against his throbbing erection Brian is in no position to use logic against the author's flawless equation.
Shortly thereafter, Brian awakes from a nightmarish flashback to his time in Iraq and storms out of Angela's life without so much as a goodbye, thanks for the pie, two-sentence conversation and no-strings sex that actually did have strings attached because now they are in love with each other. Angela is dismayed and more than a little irked. As unlikely as it sounds she does not sleep with any old random man she meets and then has sex with. Oh no, she's a quiet, unassuming girl with a passion for cooking, helping children and being sweet-natured. It's not her fault that Brian is so damn attractive and tall. How was she to know he had so many traumatic experiences in his past and probable jail time in his future, thanks to all that murder of civilians he'd done? She was in love with him, but she's no mind reader!
Of course, that sounds suspiciously like cynicism and Angela does not deserve that. Mills & Boon novels have such little story and so much characterisation the reader cannot expect credible relationships between hero and heroine to boot. They should be satisfied with a sex scene, a tragic back-story and a walk along the beach. That's enough for this couple, as it is with real people. Brian and Angela soon patch up their differences, and bond over their shared desire to do right by Oscar and their fondness of expository dialogue in scenic locations. Yet before they can settle down to a few days of domestic bliss, Brian must face a military tribunal over his conduct during a house search. Brian is too nice and honourable to have killed anyone, besides all the people he has killed, so we expect the matter to be cleared up and naturally, it is thanks to the predictable return of Eric, Eddie and Matt. The brothers-in-arms speak on Brian's behalf, and clear his name, heaping blame on Lance Corporal Chris Conrad. He was the one who shot all those Iraqis, and why, because of those cursed energy soda drinks. Chris also appears to be a jerk. Why the most interesting person in the book has the fewest lines is baffling. Jerks giddied up on energy drinks ruin our every waking moment, surely it is only a matter of time before they invade the sanctity of literature.
We end, appropriately, with an epilogue, where we are reminded of the characters we were reading about moments before. Brian has someone to wave to when he boards the military plane. Matt's wife and children have accepted they must play second fiddle to his first love, persecuting Muslims. Eddie has his new job, whatever that was, and his baby and Megan. Finally, Eric... Well, you can assume Eric is alright. The only thing left to discuss, and we knew this was coming, is the soldiers' shared case of gonorrhoea, but as Tori Carrington glossed over that sub-plot this review must do the same. Nevertheless, Matt did not have it because he was married the whole time. But the other three, and why not, Chris too, they definitely contracted something out there, making A Few Good Men the first Mills & Boon book to have a sexually transmitted disease being passed around despite no actual evidence of such a thing occuring. That almost makes it worthwhile. Add that to the list of unexpected things that only happened in our imagined projection onto the page. Is anyone keeping that list up-to-date? Google?
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