I’m not really interested in Valentine’s Day. However, it is a time of year which brings out a lot of mush on the internet, particularly mush that draws on books. Books are, as you may already know, my bag. Having said that, Dear Reader, I find the complete absence of context contextualising some of these quotes quite galling. Continue reading “A Bookish Valentine”
Not the weekend just past, or the weekend before that, but the weekend before that, I wrote another novel.
Well, that’s not strictly true – it was more of a novella, whose final word count was just over 24k. But that’s not bad going for less than 30 hours of work.
A second guest blog from Rose McConnachie – on subjugation, syphilis and Twilight.
In my previous guest post, I ranted about the inherent confusion in the romantic fiction world between abuse and wooing. In this post, I hope to rant about some other stuff.
A guest post by Rose McConnachie. *Warning – contains spoilers.*
The first historical romance I ever read was The Flame and the Flower, by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss. To brutally summarise, the plot followed thusly: 16 year old, beautiful, slightly Irish heroine Heather (orphan, raised and abused by a cruel ugly country aunt and spineless uncle) is sold into what turns out to be sexual slavery in the sweaty fleshpots of LONDON.