Review #2: The Trials of the Honorable F. Darcy, by Sara Angelini

It has admittedly been a long time since I read Pride & Prejudice. My memories of that book have probably been conflated with the several retreads that have come out in the last twenty years, most notably Bridget Jones. And maybe I need a reread in order to compare Austen to Angelini. Or maybe P&P just isn't that great (blasphemy!)? But it feels like I'd remember if Original Recipe Darcy was this much of a prick.

Judge Fitzwilliam Darcy is a British barrister with an expertise in international law, who also happens to be the youngest judge in San Francisco. Elizabeth Bennet is a young attorney who appears before him on a regular basis. Elizabeth's sister Jane falls in love with Darcy's best pal Bingley, who is the brother of Darcy's friend-with-benefits, Caroline (which itself feels kind of out of the realm of believability), which allows Elizabeth and Darcy to bump in to each other in a variety of awkward situations. There's conflict, some barbs thrown, and some misunderstandings, along with a token Gay Best Friend Lou, a bachelor auction where Elizabeth bids $50,000 for Darcy, only to be outbid by Caroline, and a British estate called, naturally, Pemberley.

Okay, fine. We have all the players, up to and including Mrs. Bennet, who is desperate for her daughters to marry. And who also gets stoned for Christmas dinner.

Except not fine at all. Darcy is a prick. Like a Grade A, Genuine Jerk. I get that he's supposed to be kind of crabby and curmudgeonly. But this is not what this Darcy is. The version is like a milquetoast iteration of Christian freaking Grey, complete with a scene involving a riding crop. He is a demanding, petulant, spoiled little brat who goes to Elizabeth's boss and tells him - after he and Elizabeth have broken up and she has said in no uncertain terms that she wants to foster her career instead of their relationship - that they are having an affair. Which they are not, since they, you know, mutually decided to end it. Which leads to her boss freaking out and immediately sending her to another city because this could jeopardize the sale of his firm and his retirement (dude, this isn't Suits). It essentially upends her entire life, forcing her to move or else risk her reputation. It never occurs to anyone that Darcy should consider stepping down; the courts are too overwhelmed and they are short a judge and it "wouldn't be fair". Darcy has about eleventy billion more options - a different court district, stepping down from the bench to practice law, the aforementioned Pemberley estate - than Elizabeth, who is just starting out in her career. But it's Elizabeth whom Darcy expects to completely change her life.

If that wasn't enough, the plot holes are big enough to drive a semi through. I'm not sure how the whole lawyer/bar thing works, but my guess is that you can't be a British barrister, come over to San Francisco on a lark, and suddenly become a judge in California. Don't you have to, you know, pass the bar over here? American laws and British laws are similar, but even I know that you can't practice law in Alabama if you only passed the bar in Alaska. It's also never made clear what kind of law Elizabeth is practicing here, nor what kind of judge Darcy is, only that the "courts are backed up" and there are only a few judges in the city/county/town/wherever they are. And Elizabeth tries several cases a day in front of Darcy, yet has time to meet with clients, and apparently her office is in the courthouse, even though she's clearly in private practice. And it only takes a few hours to fly from California to London. Direct.

And then we come to the sex scenes. They...are not sexy. Your mileage my vary, but the use of the word "titties" when having your characters engage in sexy times talk would not be my first choice. And then there is this scene, after a brief interlude between Darcy and Elizabeth during Jane and Bingley's wedding reception, where Elizabeth uses a trick that Gay Best Friend Lou taught her. (In person, by the way. With real life props. Ew.)

"It seems I have misjudged you, Mr. Hurst. I owe you an apology," Darcy said to him, staring straight ahead. Lou said nothing. "And a car," Darcy continued. He saw the corners of Lou's mouth curl up in a reluctant smile. "And possibly a retirement plan of some sort," Darcy continued.Lou laughed. "She wouldn't take all of my advice," Lou replied and took a sip of his drink."There was nothing lacking in her performance, I assure you," Darcy replied and took a sip of his own drink. Their eyes met in the mirror.Lou replied, "Yes but it would be vastly improved by the removal of her front teeth."

EW EW EW EW EW.

(Also, that's a direct quote. The writing is... well, that's a direct quote.)

Maybe I'm getting to be old-fashioned in my old age, or maybe I'm just a prude, but this scene squicked me out. It comes almost at the end of the novel, just before the magical wedding and the obligatory epilogue where Darcy has been brought to his knees by his love for his newborn daughter. And I think the reason that this scene bothered me so much is that it's just so indicative of the whole attitude of the story. Darcy calls the the shots. Darcy doesn't have to give up his career. Darcy's career - and reputation - are never on the line. Darcy doesn't have to move. Darcy doesn't even have to reciprocate in that aforementioned scene. Darcy gets the girl, keeps his job, keeps his reputation, keeps his money, and is even cheered and lauded by his colleagues when they see him kissing Elizabeth. I wonder how that would have played if the roles had been reversed.

Hard. Pass.

Review #1: The Taliban Shuffle: Strange Days in Afghanistan and Pakistan, by Kim Barker

A couple of years ago, a movie came and went starring Tina Fey called Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, the military call letters for WTF. I didn't even remember the movie until I went looking for reviews for The Taliban Shuffle after I'd read it. I sometimes like to read reviews after I've finished a book, just to see if my thinking is in line with the critics'. One thing I discovered while doing so this time, apart from the fact that the book was made in to a movie, was that the reviews are as mixed as the characters in Kim Barker's memoir.

Barker is a wet-behind-the-ears reporter when she lands in Afghanistan to write stories about people nobody back home much cares about, in the middle of a war our country has largely forgotten. She's as green as green can be; at times she reminds me of Cheryl Strayed, sitting on the side of the mountain on the Appalachian Trail with no shoes. But she's hungry, and she wants to do her job, and she wants to report. And so she sets off, this intrepid young reporter, to discover something to write about.

Aided by her driver, a man who served as a translator, a bodyguard, a sherpa, a cultural instructor, and, sweetly, a friend, she traipses through Afghanistan and Pakistan in a post 9/11 world, trying to explain to those of us back home what's happening and why we should care. It's a time when the soldiers have been there long enough that they are bored, and the reporters are even more bored, so they find themselves creating a little enclave of orphans, much like what I imagine the ex-pats in Paris and Madrid in the 1920s to have been like, only instead of wine and cheese and the running of the bulls with Hemingway, it's Chinese brothels and too much alcohol and the danger of being a woman - uncovered and unaccompanied - in a country where females are not seen as equal.

The negative reviews focused on Barker's selfishness and navel-gazing - Huffington Post used the word narcissism - and that is somewhat true. But I also think that Barker had a rough go of it, some of her own making and some just because war is, as the saying goes, hell, and this book and her attitude is her way of dealing with it. Thinking about it now, and having happened upon a couple of episodes of M*A*S*H recently, she's not unlike Hawkeye Pierce. That is to say, good at her job, funny, self-deprecating, and very, very aware of the shitty nature of the world.

Although Hawkeye was never propositioned by the former Pakistani prime minister. So there's that.

Review #26: Grey, by E. L. James

I've decided to half cannonball on this, the worst of all the books I've read this year. Mainly because that's how it's come up in my giant back log of reviews, but also because it somehow feels fitting after the way this year has gone.

I read the originals a year or so after they came out. They read like what they are: poorly written fan fiction based on a not particularly good original story. They're problematic for all the reasons that have been discussed in zillions of online forums and think pieces. They're also problematic for all the grammatical errors, the amount of suspension of disbelief that the reader needs to employ,  the truly atrocious writing, and the fact that the reader is expected to believe that a college student in the year 2011 does not own a computer or a cell phone.

Grey is problematic for all the same reasons, but it's also problematic because it's extra rapey and stalkery, which I know are not actual words, but whatever. Language evolves. Although I'm not sure that E. L. James knows that, because she only knows about a dozen words. (Hmm, sound like someone we all know?)

Summary: Christian Grey is a tortured kazillionaire of indeterminate age, but I'm guessing mid- to late-twenties. Like all millennials, he owns, among other things, a penthouse apartment in the sky, a helicopter, and a fleet of vehicles.(Note to Chris: you aren't Ranger, so stop it.) Also like all millennials, he has made all his money in some mysterious company called GreyEnterprisesHoldingsCompanyLLCIncorporated. (Note to Chris: you also aren't Roarke , so stop it.) Chris meets Ana, the dull-looking, brown haired, twenty one year old college student virgin who doesn't own any technology but does own a vintage VW bug, and wants to boff her. Actually, scratch that. He wants to tie her up, humiliate her, torture her, and then boff her. And then, and this is the most important part, he wants to discard her. Christian has Mommy Issues. So after much hand wringing and temper tantrum throwing and stalking and food policing and birth control controlling, they do those things. And then Ana freaks and goes to Savannah to see her mom, and Christian follows her, and then aoidjnwmfslkkjfpo;lawr.d

Sorry. I fell asleep. I don't care any more. You don't care any more either. You know the story. The story sucks. The story is boring.

Anyway, I know that the originals are rapey and stalkery and not at all representative of a healthy BDSM relationship, but I either forgot how bad it was, or, and I think this is more likely, Grey is actually WORSE than the originals.  And then it just...ENDS. Like, practically in the middle of a word. Which made me CRAZY because the part of me that hates to leave things unfinished really wants to read the second installment, Grey-er, or whatever it's called. But part of me is scared to do that, because  

AND STOP WRITING IN PRESENT TENSE. I HATE THAT WITH THE POWER OF A THOUSAND SUNS. IT'S JUVENILE. AND STUPID. AND I HATE IT. A LOT. IT'S STUPID. STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT.

Review #25: Tricky Twenty-Two, by Janet Evanovich

Somewhere on my Stephanie Plum journey, I missed number 22. And I have to be honest, I don't quite remember what happened. Wacky shenanigans, Bob pooping everywhere, Lula, Grandma, Mrs. Plum ironing, Morelli being a cop, Ranger hotly being hot... it's all the same, just with a different bad guy.

There's something about a fraternity (is there a college in Trenton?), a murder of a guy nobody liked, and I kind of remember some sort of radioactive bug or some other kind of weird bioterrorism in the basement of either the college or the fraternity. Which begs the question: is Stephanie really the gal we want protecting us from this? This seems like a bad idea. Thank goodness for Morelli and Ranger. 

I also remember Lula going for a gun and instead pulling out a vibrator, which is just about the most Lula thing ever written. I'm sure that Stephanie got the bad guy through no fault of her own, I'm sure she danced the no underpants dance with Morelli once or twice, and I'm sure Ranger thoroughly kissed her and called her Babe a few times.

I'm also sure that Ranger didn't sleep with Stephanie in this episode, because I'd remember that. For. Sure. Which, is it time for me to admit that maybe I'm just reading these cause I want Ranger to be naked?

Reviews #20 - 24: The Ivy Years series, by Sabrina Bowen

About two months ago, which tells you how far behind I am on my reviews, Hurricane Irma was bearing down on Florida. Each day we watched the cone move further and further west, until it looked like it was going to come right up the west coast and in to Tampa Bay. And each day, I packed more things into bags and suitcases, until finally, on Friday afternoon, they declared a mandatory evacuation of my entire town. I went home to collect my kid and the last of my important things, filmed the interior of my house, and got the heck out of dodge. We went to JB's, he of all the good books, but I knew that being cooped up with four surly teenagers for the next few days was not going to lend itself to reading great literature, and so I asked the fine ladies of CBR if anyone had any suggestions of light romance, and scootsa100 graciously offered to lend me her set of Sabrina Bowen's The Ivy Years series. And thank god she did, because I needed to be able to escape to Harkness College and hockey rinks instead of worrying about whether there was a tree through my roof. And it allowed me to ignore the fights over who was hogging the X-box and ignore the fact that they ate 90% of our hurricane food in the first day. Kids are like locusts. 

Anyway.

In the first book, The Year We Fell Down, Bowen introduces us to Harkness College, a small New England college with a strong hockey team. Corey was supposed to start as a freshman player on the girls' team, but an accident in her senior year of high school left her permanently in a wheelchair and unable to play. She meets Adam, the star of the boys' team, who is also in a wheelchair, although his is temporary; he broke his leg before school started. A friendship blossoms, and for Corey, it's more than that, although she knows she can't act on it because Adam is with a beautiful - but nasty - co-ed. Bonding over video games (hockey, natch), and how to negotiate a campus that isn't always wheelchair friendly, Corey and Adam grow closer and closer until one night, they act on their feelings. Of course, they can't get out of their own way, and so misunderstandings ensue. Will they find their way back together?

The Year We Hid Away introduces us to Scarlet, a freshman who is hiding a terrible story back at home. Her father is under investigation for some sort of child abuse a la Joe Paterno and she's tired of the news trucks on her front lawn every day, so she leaves town and changes her name, dropping her spot on the hockey team in the process. Bridger drops his spot on the team, too, but for very different reasons: he's discovered that his mother has fallen in with the wrong crowd and worries that his little sister may be in danger. So he secrets her away to his dorm room, hoping against hope that the dean doesn't discover her. With both Scarlet and Bridger hiding such big secrets, it's inevitable that the truth will come out, and if they can't learn to trust each other, Scarlet will lose her place in school and Bridger could lose his sister.

The Understatement of the Year brings us a transfer student named John Rikker, who is joining the hockey team after being outed - and subsequently ostracized - at his previous college. Rikker's been out in one way or the other since an incident five years earlier, when he was attacked while out with his boyfriend, Michael Graham, who just so happens to be on the hockey team as well. Graham, who is definitely IN the closet, feels awful for leaving Rikker after that, and has done his best to forget the whole thing, and Rikker tries to play it cool, but when Graham is knocked out cold during a game, his feelings bubble to the surface and he can't hide it any longer. Bonus points here for a really fun grandma.

The fourth book, The Shameless Hour, is about the hockey team's manager Bella. Bella loves hockey and loves boys, sometimes in that order and sometimes not. She meets Rafe through his hockey playing roommate, and one night after too many drinks, and Rafe's discovery that his girlfriend had been unfaithful, she sleeps with him, unknowingly relieving him of his virginity. Bella understands post-one night stand behavior, but Rafe is feeling guilty; his Catholic upbringing has him turned upside down about casual sex. Then Bella is drugged and accosted, and Rafe wants to help put her back together, but Bella is through with all men.

The final installment, The Fifteenth Minute, has freshman Lianne meeting DJ, the, well, DJ for the hockey games through her across the hall neighbor Bella. Lianne isn't sure how to make friends or flirt with boys; she's been acting in a Harry Potter-style movie franchise since she was little. And DJ is under weird sort of house arrest - he's not allowed in the dorms - because a girl has accused him of sexual assault, and even though he knows he's done nothing wrong, he doesn't want to tell Lianne, or any of his other friends, either. But secrets never stay secret for long, and soon Lianne has discovered what's been haunting DJ all year, and she goes all out to prove his innocence.

These can all be read as stand alone, but work best as a series. Bowen sets the scene well and the characters all kind of drift in and out of each other's stories, but unlike other authors who write series (I'm looking at you Nora Roberts), she doesn't telegraph the future hook ups. And they weren't formulaic either; sometimes a series can feel very much like a fill in the blank or mad lib (ahem, SEP).

New Adult is a genre that sometimes gets a bad rap, and I have railed against it in the past. But this series was what New Adult should be. Books three and four are the most sex-positive books I think I've ever read, and they both explore sexuality in very real, honest ways. Rikker and Graham's story is the first M/M romance I've read, and I thought it was quite well done. And I liked the way that Bowen handled Bella's story for the most part, although I was troubled by a few things in it, mainly having to do with the incident at the fraternity and the "revenge" scenes. There was just something about that whole thing that felt...I'm not sure what. Dangerous? Silly? Hard to believe? I wish that Bowen had explored a little bit why Bella wasn't willing to go to the authorities, which I think is a very real and natural reaction. But it felt almost like the attack was downplayed by what happened later at the football game, and I wonder what message it sends to girls and women who have experienced the same sort of thing. If we aren't willing or able to pull a stunt like Bella did, does it mean we're weak or somehow less than she is? And by pulling that prank, does it diminish the severity of the attack? And while the fraternity was humiliated, and rightly so, I'm not so sure that Bella didn't just escalate things and put herself - and her friends - in more danger. I don't know; maybe I'm overthinking it. I did enjoy her frank discussions of sex and her very unapologetic view of it, and I loved her budding friendship with Lianne. 

All in all, a very nice diversion from a very long and stressful weekend. Thanks, scootsa1000!

Review #19: Dating You / Hating You, by Christina Lauren

Christina Lauren is pretty popular around these parts, and Dating You / Hating You seems to top most lists. The only book I've read from the collection is the one that started it all, Beautiful Bastard, and let's just say I wasn't a fan. So I broke up with CL and the Beautiful series, and didn't give it another thought, until Dating You / Hating You was free on the library website, and since all of you guys seemed to like it, I thought I'd give it another shot.

And it wasn't too awful.

Carter and Evie are both talent agents at rival companies, and after they have an extremely awkward meeting at a mutual friend's Halloween party, they decide to give dating a chance, even though they are rivals in the same cut-throat profession. But before they can have date number two (and before they can have full on sexy times together), they discover that their agencies have merged, and now they're both fighting for the same job.

Evie is very good at her job. Carter is also very good. He's five years younger and has less connections, but since he's got out outdoor plumbing while Evie has indoor, he's naturally a shoo-in for the position because Evie's boss is a big fat corrupt jackass. He pits Evie and Carter against one another, and shenanigans of the mad-cap, screwball, 1940s comedy varieties ensue. In the meantime, their feelings for one another are growing stronger and harder to resist.

Amid the pranks and sabotage, Evie begins to realize, with the help of her friends, that Bossman is embezzling funds, and she - without Carter - sets a trap for him. Of course there's a happy ever after ending and all that jazz, but what I liked the best about this book was that Evie took down her corrupt boss without Carter coming in to save the day. In fact, there's a snippet of dialogue between Evie and her friends where they specifically ask whether she's looped Carter in on the plan, and she says no, that she's going to do it on her own. And in 2017, that sounds just about right to me. 

Review #18: Pretty Face, by Lucy Parker

From the author of Act Like It comes another Cannonball favorite, Pretty Face. And while, if I remember right, Pretty Face wasn't as strongly loved as Act Like It, I definitely enjoyed it more. Act Like It was just okay in my book; this one gets an additional two stars.

Grumpy director Luc Savage is reviving a classic West End theatre, and needs a new star. Enter Lily Lamprey, clearly the best actress for the job, even if she doesn't have the resume. Lily is a soap star, low man on the theatre totem pole, and is "too sexy" for the Elizabethean drama they are staging, but she's a good actress, and Luc takes a chance on her. Of course, sparks fly, and even though they try to fight it and definitely try to hide it, word gets out and the rumors start to fly as well, painting Lily as just another actress sleeping her way to the top, and jeopardizing Luc's career as well.

One thing I really enjoyed about this installment was the way Parker addressed the very real threat to both careers. So often, we devour Hollywood gossip as just good juicy stories, but we forget that the salacious things we read about actually affect real people. Lily's reputation is on the line - sleeping with the director, whether it's true love or not, is often frowned upon, and can truly damage one's career - and I liked that Parker included some pretty serious handwringing about that. And Luc rightly doesn't want to be known as a director who takes advantage of his new starlet, and so they both resist as long as they can, but, as is so often the case, their passion for each other overcomes their sensibilities. Another interesting angle is that Luc is some years older than Lily, and that's not glossed over in the book; Parker deals with it head on, with both characters addressing the situation with varying degrees of seriousness. 

I think what I liked best about Pretty Face is that it felt real. There was no instant love connection (although maybe a bit of instant lust), the characters felt real and measured, Parker allowed us to see their flaws, and even the ending felt real. Kind of a "we love each other and we're going to try to make this work but we know it's not always easy". That's the kind of happily ever after I can get behind.