Merry Wanderer of the Night:
romance novels

I've become a huge fan of Enthusiasticast over the last year but their recent episode fifty really built a soft spot in my heart for them. For those of you who don't know, Enthusiasticast is a book podcast run by two hilarious guys, Jon and Mark. For the most part they review literary fiction or possibly "guy's fiction" by which I mean Hornby-esque writers. It's unfortunate that we have these gender distinctions in literature because as a woman Hornby is one of my all time favorite writers, and apparently Jon, suddenly, is a big fan of romance.

Okay, maybe big fan is a bit of a stretch-- but on episode fifty he reviews a book called Tell Me Lies

by Jennifer Crusie. This a book I've seen around but have passed off as a girly book.

I, a woman, have passed on this book because it looked too much like chick lit. And even worse: I started this blog to encourage people not to feel about what they read. I was sick of the English department telling me what books were good and what books were bad so I decided to go against it and say "Hey, there is good stuff in this here historical romance to ya'know!" For the most part I think I've succeeded in my mission. I've tried different kinds of books, like romance novels, and I've gotten over the "I haven't read that book guilt." I still do judge a book by its cover though-- I guess I've just gotten a little more liberal with the covers I choose.

As a side note, I think this is also partially the fault of publishers. I hate how books by women get slapped with pink high heels on the cover just because they are about girls. There is a lot of great women's fiction out there-- but it's a genre I've left mostly unexplored because the covers turn me off.

But why do we make ourselves feel guilty about the books we read? Why is a bad emotion like guilt associated with an awesomely fun activity like reading to begin with? I know I've asked these questions before, but Jon got me thinking about them again. He forced me to be a little more honest about how open I am when it comes to books. I'd love to hear your answers to these questions, and I'd also love it if you went and listened to Enthusiasticast.

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So awhile ago my bloggin' sister Sasha at Sasha & the Silverfish had a post about romance novels. She called it Are Some Books Too Personal? Are Some Books Truly Bad? I urge you to go over there and read it when you get the chance because it poses some really interesting questions. And when you read the post you will come back over to my post and you will say, "I don't think she understood that post." But I did! I really did! And it got me thinking that I should try reading a romance novel. So I read one, and that is what this post is about.

For those of you wondering but novel I picked for my first ever romance read, I will tell you. It was Lessons From a Scarlet Lady by Emma Wildes. Why did I pick this book? Mostly because it was a regency romance novel and I figured I'd stay with what I know. I wasn't sure what to expect when I first started reading it. I kept thinking about that scene from 10 Things I Hate About You where the principal is writing a romance novel. And about Chandler Bing's romance novelist mother on Friends. What kinds of words was I going to encounter. Engorged? Immortal Sword? I had no idea. So I did what you do when you don't know what to expect. I opened up the book and started reading.

The very first chapter gave me a quick introduction when the two main characters have a tryst in the carriage. I could feel my face getting warm as I read. I couldn't believe how fast I tore through the page and I couldn't help wondering, "Why is everyone so against romance novels anyway?" I read Lessons From a Scarlet Lady at the same time I read Mansfield Park, and I'll be honest with you, I was enjoying Lessons From a Scarlet Lady a whole lot more. It was my reward for pulling through a few chapters of Mansfield Park.

But I still kept the book face down underneath a pile of other books I was reading. To be fair I was reading this book at home, and I didn't really want to explain my newfound interest in romance novels to my parents. Why not though? I'm sure my mom has read a few in her day and my dad is mostly oblivious to everything I'm reading. There was really no reason to hide it.

I talked to my best friend about it too and she said she could never read a book like that. That she would just be blushing the whole time. But you get over it, at least I did.

I am an Amazon Affiliate. If you make a purchase using one of my links I will earn a small percentage which will then go back into this blog.