Ugh, don't remind me of my reading taste as a teenager

[jmc_bks]

I've broken down and fallen back on an uninspired but reliable topic for tomorrow's Readers Gab post: holiday reading.

Of course, I haven't been inspired for a while. I struggle to write something timely and interesting when my spot on the calendar comes around, but I feel a bit stale. I just don't have anything new or different to say about Romanceland. Half the time I just want to shrug when a new kerfluffle comes along. It's not so much that I don't care as feeling there's nothing new I can contribute to the dialogue.

Anyway, as I thought about my favorite holiday reads, I was reminded of a holiday-themed category (or maybe novella in an anthology) I read years ago. Have long since forgot the title or even the line, although it seems like it would appropriate for a Harlequin Superromance. All I remember is that the heroine was named Carole Chapman. An orphan, she was a strictly business kind of woman, successful and (I think) happily childless. Enter a baby abandoned on her doorstep as Christmas approached, and a foster father for the baby -- I think he may have been the detective to work on the case, too -- who wants her to be his new baby mama. I remember loving this story when I read it (hey, I was a teenager!) but I think today I would be offended by the implicit message that Carole's life was incomplete without children.

Reminded again how conservative category romance is in some ways, and how pro-baby/family it is.

ETA: I googled "Carole Chapman" and found it! Silhouette Christmas Stories 1989, "A Christmas for Carole" by Bay Matthews. OOP but available here. Dear Gravity, but I would absolutely NOT pick up that book today. However, when I check for other Bay Matthews books, it looks like she isn't writing any longer, at least not under that name. She does have a book in her backlist titled Amarillo by Morning which I would like to read by virtue of the name alone, because I love the George Strait song of the same name.

ETA again: Well, maybe not. I just read the blurb and am not thrilled by it, because it seems to contain another romance trope that I hate: country living embodies all that is good about American life, and city life is BAD! The heroine will, of course, be convinced of this by living on a ranch for a week!

Chasing big-city dreams, Amarillo Corbett had tried to forget rough-and-tumble rodeo man Russ Wheeler. But their paths kept crossing... and proximity always led to passion. Amy feared she'd never get over Russ - unless she finally married another.

Enraged at Amy's sudden engagement, Russ stormed her slick Dallas digs to strike a deal. He'd dust off his dungarees and spend seven days in her world if she'd while away a week on the range. Once and for all he'd prove they could make it. Russ may have been thrown before, but this time he was holding on - forever.

Also, slick digs? And dungarees? Very dated. I'm not sure I could get over that, even knowing that the book was published 21 years ago.

Comments

[dogzzz2002.livejournal.com]

I would read the stories of those babies and how country living was the be all and end all and darn if I didn't think they were romantic at the time. So much so that hubby and I looked at country property many times only to have me go 'What do you mean if it's yellow let it mellow?' 'What's a sewage tank?' 'Where did all these flies come from?' 'I think I'd need a shotgun to feel safe this far from the city'.

Now I read those kind of stories and snort. I need to get out of our house on almost a daily basis and the idea that I couldn't get to a store (like that bookstore that is three minutes away or a grocery store)without a 1/2 drive pretty much put the nail in that coffin.

CindyS

[jmc-bks.livejournal.com]

There's only so much "country" near me, considering the population density of the East Coast and Mid-Atlantic. But I grew up in a relatively rural area; while development has encroached, I don't know if I could go back to it. I've lived in a city for more than 10 years, minutes from anything I could possibly want or need. My problem with romance novels that glorify country living is that they do so without thinking, without examining the pros and cons of both options, and instead vilify urban living.