Internal consistency check

For Smart Bitches Day, I thought it would be fun to see if my views on the romance genre are stable over time, or if I am thoroughly full of shit.

Remember the post where I went on and on about what I wanted from a romance novel? Well, I found one I really, really liked: Jennifer Crusie’s Bet Me, recommended by the wonderful, insightful Darla.

I guess I should mention (you know, to protect myself from that full-of-shit charge) that inconsistency is not necessarily a bad thing. I thought I was going to love delivering babies, but the first time a woman’s water broke all over me, I realized the error of my ways. Same goes for autopsies. I like horror movies, so what’s not to like with autopsies? PLENTY, it turns out. So, yes, I do allow myself some room for internal inconsistencies.

Back to Ms. Crusie’s delightful novel. In Bet Me, she does something I have often recommended to other writers, particularly when they moan about how there are no more original plots to be had. She takes a trite device and makes it her own, twists it in wild and unpredictable ways, makes it work.

To wit: there’s a bet on the table that love-’em-or-leave-’em hunk Cal Morrisey will get plump, thirty-somethingish Min Dobbs into the sack within a month. We all know the trite version of this story. The cad romances the woman; she falls for him right away, but just as he falls for her, she finds out about the bet. Boy loses girl. Stuff happens. Girl realizes boy really does love her after all. HEA.

Right from the start, though, Ms. Crusie puts us off balance. Min knows about the bet. Cal doesn’t think he’s made the bet. Min’s ex (who just dumped her, the twit) and Cal’s ex conspire to make Cal lose the bet. And then the bets start multiplying like Prairie Muffins . . .

Enough yakking. Let’s see how Bet Me stacks up against my what-I-want list.

If I’m going to read a romance, I want it to be about romance.

In other words, I want a contemporary romance, not a romance disguised as a crime novel, vampire novel, novel of the supernatural, and so forth. Does Bet Me fit the bill? You betcha. It’s all about romance, no extraneous elements. Next?

. . . the protagonists had better be likable, smart, and funny as hell. They should be people I would want to hang out with. Their witty dialog should be a joy to behold, and the world should sparkle because they’re alive.

Check. Oh boy, was Bet Me funny. Great dialog, lots of LOL moments, smart and likable protagonists. Next?

If you’re going to play the boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl game, the ‘loses’ part had better not involve some stupid misunderstanding. Smart people don’t have stupid misunderstandings. Never never never. Maybe they do in real life, but I don’t want to read about a stupid misunderstanding, okay?

Check. Sure, the misunderstanding over the bet is a tad artificial, but Ms. Crusie plays fair with it. Trust me, I read and reread the relevant scene to make sure of this. And besides, it’s not the only thing that keeps Min and Cal apart; other, more believable road blocks arise — factors that arise thanks to Min’s and Cal’s own personal foibles, or to those meddlesome exs. Next?

It’s not that I have anything against graphic sex; it’s just that so few people do it well. Also, as any student of Cheers will tell you, sex dissipates all tension between your male and female protags.

Check! It is AMAZING how much mileage Ms. Crusie gets out of kissing. I never thought I could get wood reading about a kiss. Damn. But anyway, Ms. Crusie must have read my mind. Next?

If you’re going to include graphic sex, please, please don’t get goofy about it. Sex is not an expression of love. Sex is an expression of lust. Some time ago, I wrote a post about what guys think about during sex. . . . . Lots of “One Mississippi, Two Mississippi,” if you must know. So, hot tip: keep it in the gal’s POV. Women may have the same problem as men, but I don’t know that, so you can write whatever you like from the gal’s POV and I won’t know if you’re bullshitting me.

Check! We get some kisses and some breast-gropes from Cal’s point of view, but no hot-and-nasty. (And, in fact, we get a great one-liner from Cal after the deed which shows the author truly does understand guys.)

Okay, we’re almost home.

One last point: the HEA (happily ever after — just wanted to let you know I’m not completely ignorant)? I’m not that hooked on it, or at least, I’d like to see a few liberties taken. Maybe they end up happily ever after with other people. Maybe they drift apart and realize they’re not right for one another.

Y’all handed my head back to me on that one, deservedly so. I get it now. Is that what you want to hear?

But the great thing about Bet Me is, not only do we get the HEA, but the author plays with it. The HEA is something the characters obsess about constantly, so that when the epilog arrives, we’re ready to see how each and every player, major and minor, meet their HEA. Ms. Crusie is having fun with it — indeed, I bet she had a blast writing this book.

Well, there you have it. I’m not full of shit after all, or perhaps only a little bit full of shit, given that HEA stuff. I guess I can trust me after all.

D.