Take the Anti-Douchebag Challenge!

I recently tweeted these words:

I strive for literary worlds without douchebaggery or cheesiness.

Deep, right? It's true, though, and the reason is that both of those things are two of my biggest Literary Pet Peeves.

Personally, I find it insulting when female characters throw themselves at boys who are jerks, and vice versa.Yet, so many stories seem to love this plot device. In the last story I read, the first time the female mc lays eyes on the male mc...

He flips her off.

Flips her off! And instead of responding with a hearty EF YOU!, she proceeds to follow him around like a wounded puppy dog because she's - yawn - inexplicably drawn to him and his hotness.

Just like the female lead in another novel I read, where the first conversation she has with the (hot, of course) male mc involves him being overtly inappropriate and aggressive, and progresses to him just "happening" to show up wherever she goes. And, go figure, she totally falls for him.

Did I miss something? When did the stalker and/or asswipe type become sexy?

This is why I must encourage you all to STOP THE MADNESS when it comes to literary douchebaggery!

Giving characters no real reason to fall all over themselves makes me so sad. I really don't care how hot he is if he's flipping you off or implying he might sexually assault you in your sleep. Have a little common sense and some self esteem and run in the other direction.

Is that crazy? Am I asking too much?

Then we have the other extreme: Cheesiness.

Don't get me wrong, I'm an absolute romance junkie, and usually the two go hand in hand. But in my opinion, they don't have to.

You know the moment I'm talking about. When two characters are professing their love and all you can think is, On no planet, in no lifetime would any person ever utter words so nauseatingly cheesetastic.

I mean, come on, Edward. Flying to Italy for a death wish because you "don't want to live in a world where Bella doesn't exist?" A wee bit over the top, no?

Again, STOP THE MADNESS!

Why can't characters just love each other? Why not let them have moments where they're disappointed in each other (without either one being a douchebag. Or at least recognizing and apologizing for if they are)? Why not let them have disagreements?

And then if they want each other in spite of it all, that's a REAL testament to how much they love one another - not some flowery speech about how their love burns hotter than the fires of Hell ('cause sorry, you'd incinerate), or the sun won't rise if you spend one night apart (it will) or how you'd still be able to hear them even in a world with no words and no way to speak (because, hello, you wouldn't. There's no words and no way to speak. Duh.).

So tell me - where do you stand on these issues? Is douchey the new hot? Would you like to see cheese obliterated, or am I just dead inside?

Romance vs. Straight Up Cheese II

A while back I did a post on a novel so cheesy, I contemplated bludgeoning my eyes out with icicles.  Okay, so not REALLY, but it was pretty bad.  Cliche after mind-numbing cliche.

Even so, I wanted to give this author another chance.  Everyone has days where they're a little off their game, right?

So I went on Overstock.com and ordered the tie-in to the one I'd already read.  It focused on different characters and had a (supposedly) different plot, so I decided to give it a whirl.

But the cheese was served up thick and stinky from the get go.

While the last novel ended after the female mc is held at knifepoint, this one began with the new female mc... being held at knifepoint.  By the same dude.  How original.

This chick happens to be a cop, and the dude attempting to talk down the knife-wielding psychopath is her partner.  But of course, there's more.

They'd had a unique connection, working together like a well-oiled machine.  (Hmm... Freudian, or is it me?)  Spending hours in a car together led to to an immediate friendship and an emotional intimacy Rafe had never experienced before.

Not even with his fiancee.

He and Sara had never acknowledged let alone acted on the feelings simmering between them, but that hadn't lessened the impact.

Right away we know these two have been fighting an attraction to one another.  So naturally, when the knife winds up in his chest and a reporter comes rushing over to find out how it feels to be a hero, Rafe utters this before losing consciousness:  It felt damn good to rescue a gorgeous blonde with curves to die for.

Because who wouldn't say something that long-winded and corny when they've just had a pulmonary artery nicked?  Oh yeah.  It's that bad.

Sara's knee is also injured in the scuffle with Psycho, and afterward she starts receiving threats.  So what's the next logical step?  Moving in with Rafe, of course.  Because who better to protect an injured cop than another injured cop?  It  makes perfect sense!

It makes no sense. 

Except it does provide the perfect opportunity for sex, which they have the very first night she stays under his roof, and multiple times thereafter.  And of course, it's amazing.  Sara has about sixteen orgasms before they even get down to actual intercourse, and then another one for good measure once they do.  Which made me wonder: how does one achieve that kind of blood flow to their nether regions?  Is there some sort of trick I'm not aware of?

Apparently, though, twelve million O's aren't good enough for Sara, because all she can think in the afterglow is, no matter how incredible... when it came to relationships, all good things had to come to an end.

Or as Rafe puts it, While he was being drawn deeper every minute, she was building walls.  So he had to ask himself if, knowing that, he was willing to let down his guard and risk his heart.

Gosh, do you think he's willing?  And isn't this exactly the same conflict as the last novel? 

Unfortunately for Rafe, once he finally drops the L-bomb (in the midst of another episode of multiple orgasms), Sara leaves.  Scared.  Blah blah blah.  And then - get this - she winds up being held at gunpoint by the person who had been threatening her.  And who rescues her?  Uh huh.  You guessed it.

I hate the damsel in distress ploy.  Hate it.  Especially when it's this contrived.  But she finally gives in to her feelings and they wind up together, as you'd expect.  And I'm sure a lifetime of great sex will follow, with a heavy side of cheese.

So tell me- am I being too picky?  Am I the only one who laughs in all the wrong places when reading novels like this?  Would anyone be interested if I held a Cheesy Romance Novel contest/blogfest?  Just let me know, because the wheels are already turning...

And speaking of contests, don't forget to check out mine from the Spring Carnival!  You have until May 8th to enter!

Romance vs. Straight-Up Cheese

There's a fine line between a great romantic story and a cheesy romance novel, and boy do I hate when the line gets crossed.

I read a book recently that was so cheesy it made me want to grab one of the icicles hanging off my house and poke my eyes out with it.

Sounds like fun, right?  Anyhow, I won't say the title or author of this particular book because I'm unpublished and therefore probably unqualified to throw stones, but the logline on the cover goes like this:

He's New York's most eligible bachelor.  She's just not interested!

Gee... wonder how that's going to work out?  Is she really going to shoot him down for an entire novel?  I think not.  Sure enough, "he" and "she" meet on page 36 and by page 43, the narrative goes a little something like this:

And he'd called her beautiful.  Heat rose to her cheeks at the memory.  Then there'd been his touch.  His hands weren't roughened from hard work, nor were they soft and manicured.  In fact, his fingers felt just right as they'd wrapped around her hand and the jolt of awareness sizzled straight through to her toes, and other body parts she'd be better off not concentrating on too closely right now.

Um, want some crackers with that cheese?  What happened to not interested? 

And let's not leave out his thoughts on her:

She presented a puzzle he wanted to take apart and put back together with a deeper understanding.

What?  So if she's a puzzle and she's already put together, why would you need to take her apart to understand her?  Can't you just look at the pieces?  Or am I missing some sort of sexual innuendo, or a reference to the borderline gross makeout scene that's coming up in the next fifty pages?

But the worst - the absolute worst - are the sex scenes.  Now don't get me wrong, I love a sexy magnetism between two characters.  But there is a difference between hot and hard core.  And when physical attraction seems to be the only thing driving them together, I just feel dirty reading passages like this:

Coop had died and gone to Heaven.  Or at least he was on his way there, as Lexie's damp hot body glided down over his, cocooning him in the most exquisite sheath.

Exquisite sheath?!  EWW!  You've got to be kidding me!  I would love for a group of women to try that line on their partner.  "Hey baby, how'd you like to be cocooned in my exquisite sheath?"  He'll die alright.  Of laughter.  Oh yeah, and "Coop" is the male mc, who goes by something that belongs with "chicken" in front of it, despite having a nice, normal name like Sam Cooper.  That should have raised the Red Flag of Formaggio right there.

It wasn't long after this point that I stopped reading and merely skimmed through the rest just to see how it ended, which of course, was as you'd expect with some extra cheese thrown in.  Spoiler alert (yawn): they argue after more sex in a coat closet at a party and she's held at knifepoint by a deranged member of the waitstaff.  At which point "Coop" realizes Oh God, I could have lost her! and they put aside their differences and live happily ever after.  Gag.  Me.

This book had no business calling itself a romance novel.  Sex is not romance.  Overused plot devices are not romance.  Go read the scene in Shiver where Sam and Grace kiss for the first time, or the scene in Before I Fall when Samantha and Kent have their first real kiss.  That's romance.  There's more of it in those four or five pages than there was in this entire novel.

I think this is why I veer toward the YA genre.  When the characters fall in love, it's new and innocent and exciting and exploratory.  There's still the element of surprise, and it's not all about the physicality of it.  But start stepping up the ladder to chick lit or romance, and you're testing questionable waters.  Things get too heavy, too predictable, too graphic, and TOO FREAKING CHEESY. 

Now that's not to say all YA romance is perfect or that all adult romance should be written off.  But this particular book is going right into the donation pile.  I chose it in the first place because a) the back cover synopsis was intriguing (better than the actual novel, as it turns out) and b) the cover was cute, and not something I'd be embarrassed to be seen reading like most romance novels.  Lesson learned.  You really can't judge a book by its cover - front or back. 

Now, please excuse me while I hit up my YA-To-Be-Read pile for something to clear my brain of the cheddar residue!