A Quokka Dreeds its Weird

A sweet and extremely relatable F/F second-chance romance by the author of Briarley.

Olivia is on a one-week trip to Florence with her college class when she spots someone she hasn’t seen in seven years – Ashlin, who was her best friend when they were both thirteen, before that relationship came to a disastrous end. She can’t resist approaching her, though she’s nervous about whether Ashlin will still be mad at her.

From then on, the story alternates chapters from when Ashlin and Olivia were both thirteen, and in the present day when they’re both 21. At first it feels very cozy and idyllic, but it soon becomes clear that that’s a reflection of how Olivia idolized Ashlin. The depiction of what it feels like to be 13 and have a friend who’s your entire world and who understands you like no one ever has before, and how you create a two-person reality together, is incredibly vivid. And so is the depiction of the downside of that, and the intensity of being 13 in general.

There’s nothing melodramatically tragic going on – just ordinary pain and ordinary joy –
but it’s intense in a way that captures the intensity of those particular experiences. If you’ve ever experienced social anxiety or had a bad experience trying to introduce a new friend to old friends… let me put it this way, I am still gunshy about that.

It’s a romance, and a very believable, sensual one at that, but a bit of an unconventional one in that its main concerns are slightly to the side of the usual concerns of romance. (Perception, memory, a specific set of real-life experiences – there’s a moment involving crushed magnolias that is just brilliant.) The ending is more romance-conventional than the rest of the book, and I could have used it being either more open-ended or for it to be longer.

A lovely story and one that I think a lot of you could really relate to.

Only $2.99 on Kindle: Ashlin & Olivia

An F/F amnesia romance with all the tropes, plus a nicely done mystery and more emotional realism than I expected.

Cara wakes up in a hospital with a bunch of people she doesn’t recognize, including one very hot woman, calling her “Care,” a nickname she despises. The last thing she remembers is prom. But they tell her she’s been in college for three years. Apparently she got retrograde amnesia after jogging into a tree. (I give Logan points for making the accident both ridiculous and the sort of ridiculous thing many of us have actually done. I have not jogged into a tree. But I have walked into a lightpost.)

Cara had intended to come out when she went to college, so she jumps to the not-unnatural conclusion that she did and that Bibi, the sexy woman she lives with who is very concerned and also handsy, is her girlfriend. But she’s baffled by a number of other things: how did she change from a shy bookworm to an outgoing party girl? Why does she now drink and party (and jog!) when she remembers hating all those things? Why is her family being so weirdly cagey about the last three years? And when will Bibi stop being so standoffish and get back to having the awesome sex they must have been enjoying for years?

You will not be surprised that, as we immediately learn from Bibi’s POV, she and Cara are roommates, not girlfriends. Also, Cara was not out, and Bibi is straight (she thinks). But Cara is so devastated by the amnesia (which is likely to force her to drop out of school, among other things), it seems cruel to immediately drop what will feel like a breakup on her. Surely it would be better to just be extra-affectionate for a little while, until she’s stronger, of course without doing anything actually sexual…

This leads exactly where you expect: once Bibi steps into the role, she finds it surprisingly comfortable and tempting, and Cara herself surprisingly desirable. Meanwhile, Cara is more and more disturbed by the changes from the person she was to the person she apparently became. Everyone says college changes you, but this much?

The writing is clunky (though some of the dialogue is pretty funny) but the story is well-done. The mystery aspect makes it a page-turner, and it has a satisfying resolution. (Not involving sexual assault, just FYI.) Bibi’s sexual awakening is believable and hot, the minor characters all have just a little more depth and complexity than you’d expect, and tropes aside, the character interactions and emotions feel real. Cara is naturally upset when Bibi finally confesses all, but is most bothered by the question of why she’s still in the closet.

I want a tropey amnesia romance to be hot, play out certain tropes, and explore some questions of identity. This isn’t great literature but it does do all that, and I enjoyed it more than some more polished books that don’t follow through on their own premises.

I Remember You

An actress trapped on a terrible blind date with a clingy woman named Valentine, on Valentine’s Day, extracts herself and goes to an anti-Valentine’s Day party, where she gets so drunk that she blacks out. She wakes up the next morning in the bed of an attractive butch woman. What did happen the night before? And can she overcome her misconceptions and prejudices about butch women?

A free novelette by Jae, a very popular and respected FF writer. After reading this story, I can see why. Despite the fact that I didn’t like the plot and additionally didn’t much like the actress, the writing style was smooth, funny, likable, and drew me in. I wouldn’t really recommend this story--it packed in several tropes I dislike in its short length--but I’m going to try a couple of her novels that have much better-sounding plots. (Second Nature, about a werewolf pack, and Heart Trouble, about an ER doctor who soulbonds with a waitress.)

The Morning After

This short graphic novel, which can be downloaded here or ordered as a paper review copy from the website, is subtitled “Struggling for Family Acceptance in Iran: the story of two gay men.”

It is that rare thing, a work of propaganda which is also a work of art. The entire genre of protest music contains many wonderful songs so it’s not rare there, but I can’t think of too many examples of written propaganda which are also good art. This is. Since I already agree with its message, I was expecting a “preaching to the choir” effect and enjoy the art more than the story. I loved both. It’s extremely well-written, easily gliding from lyrical metaphors to wisecracks to satisfying story moments. It makes its point, but it does so much more than that, too.

Yousuf and Farhad, which was commissioned by Outright, was created to promote the idea that there is nothing wrong with being gay and that gay people should be accepted both politically and personally, to raise awareness of the persecution and prejudice against LGBTQ people in Iran, and to support Iranian LGBTQ people. It’s also a lovely graphic novel which is sometimes funny, sometimes heartbreaking, and always moving. The art is expressive, and even the most minor characters feel like real people with their own stories. Actually, the supporting characters seem more like real people, while the heroes are more types, but that’s probably deliberately done to create an everyman effect and aid in reader identification.

It’s short and sweet, so I don’t want to give too much away. Yousuf and Farhad are two men in love in a place where their love is forbidden; they face prejudice, persecution, and despair, but also find comfort, support, and aid, sometimes in the most unexpected places.

On a literary level, it continues a very old tradition in Persian literature of linking Earthly love to Divine love with its comparisons of the beloved to holy places and things, and the love between the men with the love of God for his creations. The names of the heroes are taken from two of the most famous Persian works of literature, the heterosexual love stories of Farhad and Shirin and Yousef and Zuleikha. It obviously implies that gay love is equal to and as important as straight love and, more subtly, suggests that LGTQ people and the stories of their love should be as respected in Iran specifically, by tying them in to culturally important stories. (I’m using “Iran” to mean the modern country and “Persian” for its ancient literature; that seems to be the most common usage, but please correct me if it’s not the preferred one.)

This is a story which is radical given the current political context, but it does not appeal to radicalism. Instead, it says that there is nothing inherently radical or counterculture about same-sex love and it does not conflict with traditional values or with Islam, and it is homophobia which is a break from tradition and with Islam. I hope it gets through to the people for whom this would be a convincing argument or the only one they would accept.

I obviously read the English version, but it’s also available in Farsi. Contain people being homophobic and (decode at rot13com to see the spoilers) n aba-tencuvp fhvpvqr nggrzcg.

If you want to know if there’s a happy ending, gurl ner unccl naq gbtrgure ng gur raq.

If you would like to read more of Solani’s work, his graphic novel Zahra's Paradise was hugely acclaimed. Based on the subject matter— a young protestor who vanishes— it also looks hugely heartbreaking.

Jessica Stern of Outright wanted me to give a hard copy to the person who edited the latest Outright benefit anthology. (It's quite beautiful in paper and I wish it was more available that way.) So please email me with your address. ;)

Catching up on book notes; spot the theme!

The Heiress Effect (The Brothers Sinister), by Courtney Milan. Heiress Jane Fairfield has tons of money and suitors, but is determined not to marry; in my very favorite part of the book, she fends off her suitors with a combination of social obnoxiousness and spectacularly hideous dresses. Her sister Emily is shut in by her guardian due to epilepsy, but sneaks out and meets a sweet Indian law student.

A very enjoyable romance distinguished by excellent characterization, including of the minor characters, plenty of comedy, and good banter. I liked all the characters individually, but the heroines were much more interesting to me than the heroes, so this worked better for me as a novel than as a romance. It's the second in a series, but I accidentally read it first.

Look elsewhere for historical accuracy, though Milan does often use snippets of actual history: the hideous dye which plays a role in the story actually was a recent invention. Anjan could have been doing what he was doing in England at that time, but I don't think everyone would have been anywhere near as accepting of his romance with an English woman. The discussion of colonialism, the rights of disabled people and women, and other social issues are all important and true, but also a bit anvillicious. That being said, in terms of the actual portrayal of people with disabilities, both mental and physical, Milan is outstanding.

The Other Side of Us , by Sarah Mayberry. A woman filmmaker still recovering from disabling car crash injuries moves in next door to a man with an adorable dog. She too has an adorable dog! It must be fate. I liked the realistic treatment of her disabilities, but there were too many stupid misunderstandings for my taste.

Summer Campaign, by Carla Kelly. Genuinely heartwarming romance between Major Jack Hamilton, just returned from years at war and struggling with PTSD, and the bizarrely named Miss Onyx Hamilton, who is illegitimate and so considered lucky to marry anyone, let alone the vicar whom she doesn't love. (The name is explained, but still.) She is set upon by highwaymen! He is shot rescuing her! She does such a good job nursing him that he asks her to come nurse his dying brother. And their relationship slowly blossoms.

The social situation probably isn't historically accurate, but the medical details are. The characters' emotions and the slow growth of intimacy and love are very realistic and believable. If you're tired of insta-love and relationships driven by lust, this is the book for you. Kelly is one of the few romance writers who has heroes who are not particularly handsome, out of shape, etc. Her characters are ordinary people who value each other for their personality and kindness.

The Perilous Life of Jade Yeo is a charming novella about Geok Huay (Jade Yeo), a young writer living in London in the 20s. When she writes a scathing review of a prominent novelist's latest book, he responds by inviting her to a party and flirting. A writer needs life experience, so how can she decline the opportunity for the learning experience of an affair?

The book has elements of romance, but it's more of a coming-of-age story; the affair is not particularly romantic, and includes a hilarious, deliberately non-erotic sex scene in which Geok Huay earnestly tries to mentally describe a penis for future use in her writing. The actual romance is plausible but sketchily developed.

There's not much real conflict and it seems implausible that ( Read more... ), but the book isn't really about the plot. It's about Geok Huay's voice. And her voice is a complete delight. I really, really enjoyed reading this book. It's the sort of book where you keep wanting to read funny bits aloud to any companion you might have on hand while you're reading it. The humor and meta-commentary on story and writing reminded me a bit of Cold Comfort Farm.

I reproduce an excerpt below, so you can get a sense of the writing style. If you like the excerpt, you will almost certainly like the book. (If you don't, you probably won't.) It's only $2.99 - well worth the price.

Saturday, 7th August 1920

I had tea with the intolerable aunt today. Aunt Iris, the one who is so rich she has a new fur every year, and so mean she has installed a tip box by the door of every WC in her house, so you have to pay a charge every time you need to go. And so sinfully vainglorious I remember she came to visit us at home once and wore a wonderful glossy black mink fur. She sat on the sofa with a fixed grin on her face, sweating gallons in the heat. Ma had to send Koko out to get the doctor. It was just before New Year and Ma was terrified Aunt Iris would go into an apoplexy in our drawing room–which would have been such bad luck.

I had my angle of attack all planned out today, though. On Wednesday I’d found out how much a piece of chocolate cake cost at the restaurant, and I went in with the exact change in my purse. When the waiter asked me what I wanted, I said: “Chocolate cake, please”, and I counted out my coins and paid him right then and there.

“I haven’t got any more money than that,” I explained.

Aunt Iris was furious: she looked like an aunt and she was wearing her furs, of course. Even the English must have thought it peculiar. But even so she didn’t offer to pay. She ordered two different kinds of cake and a pot of their most expensive tea, just to show me. But I profited in the end because she couldn’t finish even half of one of her slices of cake. I whipped out my notebook and tore out a page and wrapped the other slice in that.

“I’ll save you the hassle of eating it, auntie,” I said. “You must be so full now! I don’t know how you stay so slim at your age.”

I hadn’t meant the reference to her age as a jibe. My mother is a very modern woman in most ways, but she would still be offended to be accounted any younger than she is. Her opinion is that she did not struggle her way to the august age of forty-three only to have the dignity accorded to her years snatched away from her.

But Aunt Iris has become quite Western from living here so long. She has a passionate hunger for youth. It is especially hard on her to be thwarted in it because the British can never tell an Oriental’s age, so she’s been accustomed to being told she looks ten years younger than she is.

“My dear Jade,” she said in her plushest voice–her voice gets the more velvety the crosser she is–“I know you don’t mean to be impolite. Not that I’m saying anything against your dear mother at all–your grandmother wouldn’t have known to teach her these things, of course, considering her circumstances. But as an aunt I do feel I have the right to give you–oh, not a scolding, dearest, but advice, meant in the most affectionate way, you know–given for your sake.”

The swipe at my grandmother’s “circumstances” made me unwise. Aunt Iris is not really an aunt, but a cousin of Ma’s. Her mother was rich and Ma’s mother was poor. But my grandmother was as sharp as a tack even if she couldn’t read and Aunt Iris’s mother never had two thoughts to rub together, even though she had three servants just to look after her house.

“You should call me Geok Huay, Auntie, please,” I said. “With family, there’s no need for all this ‘Jade’.”

I spoke in an especially Chinese accent just to annoy her. Aunt Iris’s face went prune-like.

“Oh, but Jade is such a pretty name,” she said. “And ‘Geok Huay’, you know!” She looked as if my name were a toad that had dropped into her cup of tea. “‘Geok Huay’ in the most glamorous city in the world, in the twentieth century! It has rather an absurd sound to it, doesn’t it?”

“No more absurd than Bee Hoon,” I said. “I’ve always wished I could name a daughter of mine Bee Hoon.”

A vein in Aunt Iris’s temples twitched.

“It means ‘beautiful cloud’,” I said dreamily. “Why doesn’t Uncle Gerald ever call you Bee Hoon, Auntie?”

Aunt Iris said hastily:

“Well, never mind–you’d best take the cake, my dear. Are you sure you don’t want sandwiches as well?”

I was not at all sure I did not want sandwiches. I said I would order some just in case, and ordered a whole stack of them: ham and salmon and cheese and cucumber. Aunt Iris watched me deplete the stack in smiling discontent.

“Greedy little creature!” she tittered. “I would rap your knuckles for stuffing yourself, but you rather need feeding. You are a starveling little slip of a thing, aren’t you? Rose and Clarissa, now, have lovely figures. They are just what real women should look like, don’t you think?”

“You mean they have bosoms and I don’t,” I thought, but did not say. It didn’t seem worth trying to enunciate through a mouthful of sandwich.

The Perilous Life of Jade Yeo

Brandon Bettleyoun left his reservation decades ago, driven by the message in his early life of “You’ll never be anything, because you’re Indian.” He cut off his braids and dedicated himself to success. […] When a college student from the nearby college comes to interview him, she begins to awaken in him feelings he had forgotten in his striving to be more than he believed he could be. Can this beautiful young woman from a small reservation in Idaho be the one to fill the emptiness he has endured for so long?

This erotic romance short story was was recommended to me in my post asking for recs for good self-published books as an antidote to all those romances with stereotypical Indians ravishing white women, usually with “Savage” in the title (and sometimes containing plagiarized material from, among other things, scholarly texts on black-footed ferrets.)

I did enjoy the story. It’s well-written, engaging, and sensual. I can’t speak to its authenticity, but the characters and setting felt believable. There are definitely no noble savages here. I can see why the reccer thought I’d like it— I particularly enjoy protagonists starring in genres in which they don’t often appear, and I have never before come across a genre romance (as opposed to a mainstream novel with romance in it) in which both hero and heroine are Native American. If you know of others, please comment to inform me.

But it’s tough to do a romance in a short story and not have it feel rushed— I think you usually need at least novelette length. It left me wanting more, in the “has Eagleday written anything longer?” sense. Alas, no. There are other short stories out, though. (Link NSFW – they’re erotica, several involving Native American traditional stories.) I’d love to see “Sioux Billionaire” expanded into a complete novel. But in the meantime, I did like it as a short. You might too.

Sins Of The Sioux Billionaire

On a side note, I got my Dad and step-mother hooked on Jennifer Crusie by slipping them FAKING IT and saying, "It's a mystery-comedy about a family of art forgers." My step-mother likes mysteries, my Dad collects art, and they both like comedy, so I figured that would sell them. When they both praised it and asked for more, I gave them FAST WOMEN, then WELCOME TO TEMPTATION. I'm wonder if they'll ever figure out that Crusie is really a romance writer, and if they'll care if they do.

GETTING RID OF BRADLEY is similar in some respects to CRAZY FOR YOU, in that both involve a woman who wants to break out of her boring life and a man who's stalking her. I liked the former better; the tone is lighter overall, even when it comes to dark elements, and it's set up from the beginning as a playful romantic comedy with elements of mystery and suspense, rather than a romantic comedy with unwelcome intrusions of creepy reality.

High school physics teacher Lucy Savage is getting divorced from her husband Bradley. He's stood her up at divorce court, her sister is bossing her around, and she hates her newly blonde hair. When someone shoots at her and she mistakes the cop who pushes her out of the way for a mugger and beats him up, it actually improves her day. Next thing she knows, she's being stalked by a mysterious person, who may be her Bradley or the Bradley the cop is looking for (they may or may not be the same Bradley) so naturally, the cop has to move in with her and her three dogs (one of whom has invented a dog joke) and her ever-mutating hair. To guard and protect her, of course.

This book cracked me up. If you want to learn how to use repetition for comic effect, study it. If you want to be cheered up, just read and be cheered. I was particularly gratified to find a Crusie heroine who knows self-defense, even if it's not always directed at the correct parties. The police work is less than plausible and the sex scene is generic (Crusie got much better at writing them later on) but generally the book made me very happy.

In FLOWERS FROM THE STORM, the Duke of Jervaux, who is a rake and a mathematical genius, is called out for a duel for having an affair with a married woman. But before anyone can fire, he has a stroke and collapses. He wakes up in an asylum. He's unable to speak, understand spoken language, or read and write words, though his mathematical abilities are intact. Unfortunately, at that time no one understands what's happened to him and they think he's insane. Enter Maddy, whose blind mathematician father was in a mathematics society with Jervaulx. Maddy and her father are Quakers, and she gets a message from God that she needs to rescue Jervaux, who she realizes is not insane, but only unable to communicate. (The mad chemistry between them has nothing to do with it, she tells herself, because he is a man of the world and if she gets involved with him, the Quakers will disown her.)

The first third or so of the book, before Jervaulx starts to recover, contain some fascinating attempts at writing from the point of view of someone who has lost language. Kinsale does a good job of conveying a state which is inherently impossible to portray in words. I liked the way both Jervaulx and Maddy had inner worlds which were intensely important to them, and also came from diametrically opposed backgrounds, and how difficult it was to communicate with each other because of it, and how comparatively easy it was for them to bridge the gap of his aphasia.

The main problem I had with the book was the pacing. Although I liked the characters and was engaged by their predicaments, there were a number of places where I found the book easy to put down, unlike, say, SHADOWHEART or THE SHADOW AND THE STAR or even MY SWEET FOLLY, all of which I was glued to from beginning to end.

There's also a point at which Kinsale probably should have stopped adding new complications and reasons why Maddy and Jervaulx were doomed as a couple, because eventually I started to think that their relationship was just too difficult, that they didn't have enough in common and there were too many obstacles and too much Maddy especially had to give up, and that they would never be truly happy together. That mad chemistry had better keep cooking, or they will be in trouble a year or two after the end of the book.