When writing a book of short stories the writer must always be wary of reader fatigue, a recently invented term for when the reader bores of the repetition of numerous minor alterations to the same scenario. It is, in many worrying ways, very similar to your experience reading this blog. Here we go again, you sigh while shaking your head bitterly and removing your trousers. Because of this, before under-taking the task of writing a romance novel the prospective author is recommended, by those who sell romance novels, to read as many as he or she can, over a hundred perhaps, until the structures, formulas and tropes become abundantly clear and they are fully immersed in the world, able to make those minor alterations to the same scenario which amounts to a career in romance fiction. While this might be the standard instruction, Bewildered Heart wisely recommends something much more attractive. You probably need to read two, three at the most. Read the second one to make sure the first one wasn't a fluke, some freak romance that escaped. If those two books are in anyway different read a third to understand which of the initial two was the typical fare. In all likelihood, of course, the first two will be so eerily interchangeable you will begin to believe you accidentally read the same book twice.
If you continue to read romance fiction after two or three books you will lose any of the passion for the genre required to write in the style to which you've grown accustomed. Speaking of losing passion, this brings us back to the matter at hand. We have almost finished with A Few Good Men, the quartet of stories by Tori Carrington, about returning marines and their tedious melodramas. After an attempt to enjoy the first two revealing briefs the old reader fatigue had indeed set in, especially considering the obstacles that our heroes had to overcome thus far had been frustratingly easy to surmount. Surely by the third character the exponentially-raising stakes would bring us our second most unlikely coupling. If this novel was a movie which was itself based on a novel, which it actually is, the third story would be Homer Parrish and Wilma from The Best Years of our Lives. Fortunately for anyone else foolish enough to read A Few Good Men, Carrington does indeed raise the stakes and our new hero, a strikingly tall and devastatingly handsome marine, must return home to the wife he loves and who loves him back. The only trouble this marriage has is in the time these lovebirds spend apart, which isn't a problem what with him now being home. Damn you to hell, Tori Carrington!
Yes, in a story redundant from the outset and clearly stolen from the least interesting of the Best Years of our Lives plot strands, Mateo Guerrero returns to the state this story takes place in, somewhere dreary, and finds his wife Ana more beautiful than ever, thanks to her new dancing hobby. However, Ana's new dancing brings with it a dance partner, a man Matt immediately punches in the face and never hears from again. Ana is surprised, but naturally aroused, by such negligent defiance. Still, for instantly forgettable reasons she is unhappy with Matt and forces him to sleep on a sofa. Yet no matter how angry Ana becomes with her husband she is “in complete lust with his penis” and soon joins him on the couch for some hot sex. That's the term these writers always use, hot sex. They don't use 'in lust with his penis' very often, mind. Everyone can only hope that is the first and last time they use that. Unlike the earlier episodes, Matt and Ana receive only five chapters, mainly because there isn't much to say about them. They still indulge in their two obligatory love scenes and we are even treated to a small bout of fellatio, because this twenty-year marriage is nothing if not completely credible. The happy couple have three children, but none of them are important enough to deserve a mention. Alright, a quick mention of the youngest, Teresa, whose nickname is Tete. Hah! Cubans.
The story concludes, suitably, with Ana deciding to stop being unreasonable and Matt agreeing to stop running away to Iraq every time home-life feels dull. Then Mateo leaves for the war-zone. All in all, a perfectly satisfactory short story, the kind written for those people who hate reading. It is concise and without any drama, tension or meaning with plot points introduced and then forgotten about by either the careless writer or the listless reader.
Moving thankfully onwards, the final installment involves Brian Justice, a man everyone calls Justice, because that's his name, and not because his character seeks justice and the author is an idiot. Having prematurely peaked into the pages of Brian's song, any remaining capacity for hope was certainly emboldened by something resembling a story. On the plus side Brian and his love interest have no romantic history. This makes their immediate love-making all the more incredulous, but we shouldn't have been shocked. After all, it is the end of chapter two and that's when the first sex scene always happens. This usual flippant disdain has turned sour, by the way, so you might want to brace yourself for the aftermath of our finishing. That's what Brian Justice says during sex. We didn't mean to imply Bewildered Heart wasn't enjoying A Few Good Men and will write scathingly about it once the remaining episode is read, because that was not what we wrote.
If you continue to read romance fiction after two or three books you will lose any of the passion for the genre required to write in the style to which you've grown accustomed. Speaking of losing passion, this brings us back to the matter at hand. We have almost finished with A Few Good Men, the quartet of stories by Tori Carrington, about returning marines and their tedious melodramas. After an attempt to enjoy the first two revealing briefs the old reader fatigue had indeed set in, especially considering the obstacles that our heroes had to overcome thus far had been frustratingly easy to surmount. Surely by the third character the exponentially-raising stakes would bring us our second most unlikely coupling. If this novel was a movie which was itself based on a novel, which it actually is, the third story would be Homer Parrish and Wilma from The Best Years of our Lives. Fortunately for anyone else foolish enough to read A Few Good Men, Carrington does indeed raise the stakes and our new hero, a strikingly tall and devastatingly handsome marine, must return home to the wife he loves and who loves him back. The only trouble this marriage has is in the time these lovebirds spend apart, which isn't a problem what with him now being home. Damn you to hell, Tori Carrington!
Yes, in a story redundant from the outset and clearly stolen from the least interesting of the Best Years of our Lives plot strands, Mateo Guerrero returns to the state this story takes place in, somewhere dreary, and finds his wife Ana more beautiful than ever, thanks to her new dancing hobby. However, Ana's new dancing brings with it a dance partner, a man Matt immediately punches in the face and never hears from again. Ana is surprised, but naturally aroused, by such negligent defiance. Still, for instantly forgettable reasons she is unhappy with Matt and forces him to sleep on a sofa. Yet no matter how angry Ana becomes with her husband she is “in complete lust with his penis” and soon joins him on the couch for some hot sex. That's the term these writers always use, hot sex. They don't use 'in lust with his penis' very often, mind. Everyone can only hope that is the first and last time they use that. Unlike the earlier episodes, Matt and Ana receive only five chapters, mainly because there isn't much to say about them. They still indulge in their two obligatory love scenes and we are even treated to a small bout of fellatio, because this twenty-year marriage is nothing if not completely credible. The happy couple have three children, but none of them are important enough to deserve a mention. Alright, a quick mention of the youngest, Teresa, whose nickname is Tete. Hah! Cubans.
The story concludes, suitably, with Ana deciding to stop being unreasonable and Matt agreeing to stop running away to Iraq every time home-life feels dull. Then Mateo leaves for the war-zone. All in all, a perfectly satisfactory short story, the kind written for those people who hate reading. It is concise and without any drama, tension or meaning with plot points introduced and then forgotten about by either the careless writer or the listless reader.
Moving thankfully onwards, the final installment involves Brian Justice, a man everyone calls Justice, because that's his name, and not because his character seeks justice and the author is an idiot. Having prematurely peaked into the pages of Brian's song, any remaining capacity for hope was certainly emboldened by something resembling a story. On the plus side Brian and his love interest have no romantic history. This makes their immediate love-making all the more incredulous, but we shouldn't have been shocked. After all, it is the end of chapter two and that's when the first sex scene always happens. This usual flippant disdain has turned sour, by the way, so you might want to brace yourself for the aftermath of our finishing. That's what Brian Justice says during sex. We didn't mean to imply Bewildered Heart wasn't enjoying A Few Good Men and will write scathingly about it once the remaining episode is read, because that was not what we wrote.
No comments:
Post a Comment