*sets toothpicks at the ready*
Mar. 19th, 2005 07:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
constanceI now have a job, as many of you know, that sends me into the darkest watches of the small-town south, and I am immersing myself neck-deep for the first time in GWB's America. Want to know something scary? These people, these Ann Coulter admirers, these Bill O'Reilly devotees, these America-Love-It-Or-Leave-It-Ites, are actually kind of...well, nice. They recommend their favorite restaurants, they take me out to lunch, they ask if they can get my address because they want to write to me. I want to hate them for what they've done to my lovely, lovely country. But I find that I can't, and not just because I find it nearly impossible to sustain any kind of hostility for more than a few days. Er, in most cases.
Item: the manager of the office I was most recently in, upon discovering that I was a Reader, brought me a brown paper bag stacked to the top with books to take home with me. How unlooked-for! How serendipitously generous and lovely!
They are mostly romance novels, true. I have a furtively heated relationship with romance novels, though, and a sentimental regard for them as well. (Those old Harlequins sneaked out of my grandmother's stash! Will I ever forget the endearment "Guava-Nose?" Will I ever forget pink-haired Bebe, rival for the hero's affections in the very first one I ever read? I will not.) And so it is with a great deal of reminiscent fondness that I've been going through the bag, reading synopses, and with an almost complete lack of irony that I share the blurb from the back of my favorite so far:
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Item: the manager of the office I was most recently in, upon discovering that I was a Reader, brought me a brown paper bag stacked to the top with books to take home with me. How unlooked-for! How serendipitously generous and lovely!
They are mostly romance novels, true. I have a furtively heated relationship with romance novels, though, and a sentimental regard for them as well. (Those old Harlequins sneaked out of my grandmother's stash! Will I ever forget the endearment "Guava-Nose?" Will I ever forget pink-haired Bebe, rival for the hero's affections in the very first one I ever read? I will not.) And so it is with a great deal of reminiscent fondness that I've been going through the bag, reading synopses, and with an almost complete lack of irony that I share the blurb from the back of my favorite so far:
A RECIPE FOR DISASTER
Begin with a sleepy small town. Add Hannah Hart, a whimsical caterer who can't cook. Include a host of eccentric townspeople. And a nefarious crime ring. Bring to a boil.
Then throw in Chance McCoy, secret agent extraordinaire, and mix well.
Let the situation simmer for a few weeks, until the sexual tension explodes. When it's done, you should end up with one hilariously happy couple. If not, poke them with a toothpick!
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Date: 2005-03-20 07:25 am (UTC)Item: Richard Buckner concert in Park Slope on May 4th with $8 tickets! How can a romance novel compete with that?!
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Date: 2005-03-20 12:36 pm (UTC)There's no competition at all, believe me, on either half of your side of the equation. (In fact, I actually checked to see whether May 4th was on a weekend to see if I could go to your particular dark reach! And was disappointed that it wasn't.)