But Richard Lawson hits the nail right on the head. He is a GENIUS. Love him.

This movie about how some old lady decided to spend her boss’s money flitting about god knows where for a year did pretty good, I guess, but whatever. Probably a bunch of sad single women with like curly hair and glasses and stuff, all crying and eating ice cream in the theater and telling each other they’re not fat, even though they’re all fat and they all look like ninth grade English teachers. (Probably because they all are ninth grade English teachers.) And then they drive home in their shitty Toyotas and the whole house smells like cat and air freshener and it’s yogurt and some pita bread over the sink for dinner again tonight and then sitting on the couch watching taped (on VHS) episodes of Lois & Clark and the Jeremy Piven Cupid and Roswell, patting their laps wanting the cat to jump up and cuddle with them, but this cat is different, not the same as Daisy-Mins, who died last February, no this one is way more aloof and scratches sometimes, but they just wear longer sleeves at work so you don’t notice the marks. And after a while it’s maybe some tea and some cookies straight from the bag and then upstairs to sleep, the ceiling fan rattling quietly, the dim red of the alarm clock casting a strange glow on the doilied nightstand. And lying there in the quiet, they think about Julia Roberts in the movie and how she rode a bicycle clear across Bali, and they think about how faraway things feel, all the time now, more and more every day. YEAH, FUCK THEM. EXPENDABLES, AWW YEAHHHHH.

(I used to have taped episodes of Lois & Clark on VHS, I swear to God.)

And Scott Pilgrim only made 10.5 million this weekend. WHERE WERE YOU GEEKS AND HIPSTERS?!? Even my dude was like, “Um, to be honest, I’d rather watch that Mark Wahlberg and Will Ferrell movie.” YOU ARE KILLING MICHAEL CERA’S CAREER WITH YOUR AMBIVALENCE!! DON’T YOU CARE?!? (Some of you are Jesse Eisenberg fans, aren’t you?)

[via Gawker]

Hannah Bryant has always been different. Since she was a child, she’s had vivid dreams of death and loss. Years later, Hannah is a successful doctor who’s gotten past the terrors that used to plague her. In a flash, everything she has worked so hard for is in danger when the dreams return with a vengeance.

But the dreams haunting Hannah’s sleep now are nothing like the ones from her childhood. No longer does she dream of death and destruction—now her dreams are of a man who elicits a reaction from Hannah’s body that’s strangely familiar and startlingly brand new at the same time.

Hannah Bryant has worked hard to be where she’s at. She’s a doctor, engaged to a nice man, and it’s been a while since she’s had one of those “episodes.” Much to her parents’ protests and dismay, she is currently working in a clinic in a reservation town in South Dakota because in return for a six-month commitment, the clinic will pay off the rest of her student loans. She doesn’t love her fiancé Marcus because as her mother told her, “feelings were fleeting and didn’t make for a long, lasting relationship,” but compatibility and similar interests are the key. Her mother, who she describes as “elitist,” believes “Women who not only acknowledged but let their baser needs control them don’t get anywhere in life.” I believe Hannah’s mother, if she weren’t such a prude, would enjoy a song by Prince ingeniously called Pussy Control:

Our story begins in a schoolyard
A little girl skipping rope with her friends
A tisket, a tasket, no lunch in her basket
Just school books 4 the fight she would be in
One day over this hoodie
She got beat 4 some clothes and her rep
With her chin up, she scolded “All y’all’s molded
When I’m rich, on your neck I will step”
And step she did 2 the straight A’s
Then college, the master degree
She hired the heifers that jumped her
And made everyone of them work 4 free?
No! Why?
So what if my sisters are triflin’?
They just don’t know
She said “Mama didn’t tell ‘em what she told me
‘Girl, U need Pussy Control’”

Hannah has worked hard for the past 20 years to suppress the psychic flashes that feel like memories—memories of a previous life as a young Mulatto woman who falls in love with a Native American warrior. Now as a doctor in a tiny reservation town called Two Kettles, the mental defenses she has put in place over the years seem to be crumbling. While tending to an old woman, Hannah gets the shock of her life when she finds herself speaking in Dakota even though she insists on only knowing English and it is not until the grand-daughter of the old woman points out that her grandmother doesn’t speak English that Hannah freaks out and leaves the room. When she comes upon the police chief in her exam room, a hot Native American named Gabe Leader Charge, her initial reaction to him is so intense that something shorts out in her brain and she passes out. She wakes up in Gabe Leader Charge’s arms, aghast by the closeness of their bodies, and pulls away from him. He calls her Sunshine, the nickname her mystery lover calls her in the dreams, and she panics. She’s afraid people will find out about her delusions, take away her medical license, and stick her in a mental institution. Much to her consternation, she is crazy-mad for Gabe Leader Charge and he appears to be crazy-mad for her. But she does NOT believe she is the reincarnation of a young “Negress” named Sarah Jane and that Gabe Leader Charge is her long-lost love Mahpiya.

Meanwhile, in the dream/flashback mode interspersed with the present, Sarah Jane, the pampered daughter of a rich man, is on the run from some mercenaries that her step-mother had sent to capture her. Her beloved father had just died and her money-grubbing step-mother wants to get rid of her. She is rescued by a Native American hottie named Mahpiya. Sarah Jane is quick to point out that she’s not a slave and Mahpiya reassures her that he doesn’t believe a human should belong to another human, no matter what color. He brings her back to his tribe, they get to know each other, sexin’ ensues plenty of times, they form a family together, and… bad stuff happens.

Back in the present time, Hannah refuses to believe Gabe Leader Charge’s assertions that they were once the doomed couple, Sarah Jane and Mahpiya, even though Hannah’s traitorous body responds to Gabe’s touch like it never has for another man. She resists, they fight— No, she is not Sarah Jane. No, he is not Mahpiya. It is madness, I tell you, madness! They kiss, sexin’ ensue, Hannah still won’t believe, Gabe gets mad. Hannah wonders if she’s not better off in a loveless, passionless marriage with Marcus because at least she won’t be feeling such a crazy, all-consuming need for another human and therefore, run a risk of losing her sense of self.

Hannah suffers from insecurity issues, the bulk of which should be blamed on her mother:

Naked, I stood in front of the mirror and studied my body. I was pudgy. It was the only word I could think of that fittingly described my body. My breasts were more than a handful and, as a teenager, a source of embarrassment to my petite mother. She thought my breast size bordered on vulgar and had said so on more than one occasion. Must have come from your father’s side, she’d say before she’d put her hands on her slender size-two waist and shook her head sadly.

My waist size was the only thing I had inherited from her. It was small, though not as tiny as hers, and unfortunately flared out into hips too wide to be considered fashionable.

Gabe Leader Charge is described thusly:

Mussed coal black hair tumbled to his waist and was held back from his face by a leather thong tied at the nape of his neck. Déjà vu swept over me—there was something familiar about him. I dismissed it, thinking maybe it was his hair—not too many men in the area chose to wear it that long.

Only his profile was visible from the doorway. A sharp cheekbone slashed downward toward full lips. His top lip was slightly bigger than the bottom and an insane urge to run my tongue along the seam sent heat spiraling through me.

And here is Mahpiya

Black hair hung free to his waist, along with two small braids on each side of his temples. He wore breeches and a shirt instead of the animal hides like the characters in the novels. He didn’t look bloodthirsty or savage, but I knew better than most that looks could be deceiving.

Gabe reveals to Hannah that they are “recycled souls”:

“As a little boy, I had nightmares. Horrible dreams I would wake from screaming. At first, my mom thought it was because of the fights I witnessed between her and my father. But even after my parents were gone and I went to go live with my unci I still had them

[…]

“At first my relatives had said I was crazy…but my grandmother knew better. She took me to a man who knew a lot about dreams and told him about the nightmares. He explained to her that our souls last forever and are capable of being recycled, and that the dreams I had were more than likely memories.”

The sexin’ is very hot and plenty. In fact, there is an actual bodice-ripping scene, which had me hootin’ and hollerin’:

My nipples beaded, stabbing into the immovable force that was his upper body as I fought for breath. Before I could blink, my back hit the bed and he was on me. Shoving my legs apart, he didn’t bother with preliminaries as he bunched my dress around my waist. He gathered the sides of the bodice and ripped it down the middle, leaving me bare to my navel. I gasped as buttons flew.

This is a novella that could have benefited from being a little longer. As it is, we have Hannah experiencing the dreams, meeting Gabe, refusing to believe they are the reincarnation of the lovers, Gabe persuades her otherwise though hot lovin’, and they have an HEA. Emma Petersen writes well and her descriptions are quite evocative. I think if some of the sex had been cut out in favor of the expansion of the plot, it could have been quite good. The fact that the story is also told from a first-person point of view of Hannah is an impediment to understanding Gabe’s motivations and true beliefs. We don’t really get to know him or his background. We find out a lot more about Hannah: she possibly only became a doctor because it would impress her mother, fears displeasing her mother in any way, has probably tried some yo-yo dieting that did not work and suffers from negative body image, only got involved with Marcus because her parents believe he would be a good fit for her, and lastly, is probably just waiting for the right moment to tell her mother to get out of her life because she’s a grown woman and can take care of herself. She is seemingly emotionally fragile and easily manipulated. Gabe seems like he can run roughshod over her and nothing in the text indicates that he wouldn’t otherwise. He basically bullies and emotionally manipulates her into admitting that they are the reincarnated couple.

While Emma Petersen writes well and is capable of creating evocative and vivid scenes, this story left me a little bit cold. I thought it ended rather abruptly— it would have been nice if there had been a denouement of sorts, maybe a scene where Gabe treats Hannah like a queen and shows us that he is as sincere about loving her as he says (I always look out for the heroine, yo!). I want to know that this love is true and not just residual of the love they had felt before. What kind of relationship can they develop without the ghost of the previous love affair haunting them? I would have liked to have seen the aftermath. As it is, the entire courtship of Gabe and Hannah is so crazy and quick and loaded with previous emotional baggages, that I don’t think these two even had the time to sit down, have coffee, and talk about their favorite colors or TV shows. I just wasn’t convinced that their relationship could be anything more than some craziness brought on by dreams and past lives. While this one didn’t quite work for me and I’ll have to give it a C+, I’m looking forward to reading more of her work.

I picked up this book because I was intrigued by the author’s nom de plume. Unless this is her real name— how awful would that have been? I bet she would have gotten in trouble at school and maybe while applying for a job, her resume would have gotten passed over even though it is awesome because the hiring managers thought her name was porny. And maybe on dates, the guy would have assumed she puts out on the 1st date and it would have been awkward every time she has to tell them she doesn’t have sex till the 10th date and then the guys would get mad and only pay for their half of the bill and yell at her for false advertising. Anyway, “Kama” is the Tagalog word for bed. It is also a Japanese word for sickle. But maybe the author was making a grammar joke “comma splice.” There’s also Kama Sutra, which I’ve heard is some kind of sex book with step-by-step instructions on how to do The Wheelbarrow (I’ve never read it— I’ve only seen excerpts on Glamour and Cosmo whenever they publish things like 25 Sexual Positions That Will Help You Keep a Man Excited and they tell you the positions are from the Kama Sutra). Or maybe Kama Spice is a spice like saffron that you add to paella and it has the same effect as Spanish Fly.

I have to admit that I kept reading the heroine’s name as Ke$ha. I’m sorry, Kama Spice, but I hate that “Don’t Stop, Make it Pop” song because she sounds drunk in it (how unprofessional is that?) and I think she’s a bad influence on young impressionable female minds. I don’t think anyone should brush their teeth with a bottle of Jack. Also, I don’t believe her when she says, “the dudes are lining up cause they hear we got swagger… but we kick ‘em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger.” Twenty-three year old girls should not be attracted to decrepit one-hundred-and-thirty-seven year old men who are old enough to be their great-grandfathers. I will definitely kick someone to the curb for looking like Mick Jagger.

You’re probably wondering what this book is about, aren’t you? I’m getting there.

Valren Nimhah grew up hearing stories of Kessa Liah of the Silver lineage—one of the most powerful females in over a hundred years. As Leader King, he knew he would have to bring her back. She has risked the safety of the pride by living among humans. Besides, he was in heat and needed a powerful mate. What he hadn’t bargained for was how easily Kessa would drive him to the brink of madness, blinding him with savage desire.

Kessa Liah has managed to subdue her animal urges while living among humans. But after the death of her human mate, a Leader King finds her and promises to bring her back to everything she’s left behind. When he sends two males and a female to remind her of what a real cat in heat is like, she is powerless to resist. The familiar scent of Lith’han sex sends her into a frenzy. If this is how her body responds to ordinary pride members, resisting the lust of an alpha male will be almost impossible.

I like were-cat stories because I’m more of a cat person. I don’t really like werewolves because they probably have a wet dog smell when they get caught in the rain or something or just after a shower. Gross. I also like to picture other people in place of the book’s characters while I’m reading. It makes the book more fun. In place of Ke$ha, I pictured Cheetara from Thundercats even though she’s supposed to be a saber-toothed lion and for the black-haired hero, I substituted my dream man of the moment, the beautiful Nordic Viking god, Alexander Skarsgård. If I’m going to read some hot masturbatory material (why, yes, other authors, I may have gotten busy with myself reading your books too), I might as well have Alexander Skarsgård in there. And this book is hot. There is sex happening every five or six pages— not just with the hero and the heroine, their whole Pride revels in and celebrates sex, so a blow job is probably just a hey-how-you-doin’ so you probably shouldn’t expect anything after a sexual encounter with one of these creatures because you would probably just feel like a cheap slut if no one calls you back.

Ke$ha Liah is a widow. Her husband, Sher, with whom she shared a blissful human marriage for thirty years had died and their grown children are now living their own lives (Kama Spice, their children’s names are AWFUL). Ke$ha ditched her people long ago because she was disgusted by their depravity and licentiousness, fleeing to the world of the humans and transforming herself to a human female. In order to keep her charade as a human, she never shared with her husband of 30 years that she is one of the Cat People and used her magical cat powers to age herself in pace with him. Ke$ha has tried very hard to distance herself from her Cat People past and fortunately for her children, were-cat babies can only be produced with another Cat Person during a special ceremony where they share life essences or something, so they are not Cat People (their real name is some complicated made-up word with a glottal stop). Ke$ha comes from a long line of Silver Cat People who are very rare and powerful, so soon enough, she is found by a Lion Leader King of a local pride who is in search of a powerful mate to make his Queen. Ke$ha is not interested in going back to the Cat People lifestyle, so she sets out to escape, however she gets caught when she makes a pit-stop in the forest to make sweet, sweet love to a young interracial couple who are out camping. Ke$ha is a creature in constant heat because it is the nature of the Cat People, so when she comes upon the human couple who are in the middle of doing it, she says what’s up and they invite her to partake in the connubial good times. Isn’t that sweet? The pit-stop invites the attention of some hunter-and-tracker types dispatched by the Leader King to bring Ke$ha into the fold, so in order to save the human couple from being ravished and eaten, she runs the opposite way in order to get the minions to chase her instead. She gets caught soon enough and brought to face Valtrex**, the Leader King who wants Ke$ha to be his girlfriend.

While fighting off Valtrex—Ke$ha knows once she indulges in the good times with him, she will be fully absorbed back into the Cat People lifestyle and would never want to leave—she makes a new life for herself within the village, getting to know some folks and hanging out. She realizes that it’s not so bad—she has to sleep next to Valtrex every night and it is getting harder to resist him—because most of the Cat People seem to like her and they don’t seem to be the lustful, depraved, sex-hungry, flesh-eating perverts that she remembers from her youth, so she starts thinking, “Wow, you fuckers are all right.” But four times a year, an event called The Night of Revelry comes around and the Cat People celebrate by doing everything that made Ke$ha disgusted about the culture: indiscriminate sex-making and carnivorous consumption of bloody, meaty things. When she was a developing young Cat Person, she was caught and raped by a rogue Cat Person during the Night of Revelry, so she ran away to live among the humans. The Night of Revelry brings traumatic, painful memories to the surface for Ke$ha so she renews her determination to escape and live far, far away from the Cat People. It’s really too bad that Valtrex is not the brute she remembers meeting and has turned out to be a rational, if a bit old-fashioned, and gentle cat-man. Since Ke$ha ran away from her Pride before she could partake in the Lith’hah good times, she has never been with a Lith’han before and believes it would probably be awesome times. Which is why she will not have sex with Valtrex. It will just be too awesome.

Valtrex is a good guy. He is not one of those “mine, mine, mate, mate, heed me woman” type of Alpha-douchebags that seem to be prevalent in paranormal erotic romance these days. He listens to Ke$ha, seems to be a good leader, and it is only when Ke$ha openly defies him and questions his AUTHORITA in front of the others that he gets pissed and punishes her. And why wouldn’t he? He’s the King and for people to respect and obey him, he can’t have some feisty lady mouthing off to him and challenging his pronouncements. There’s really not much of a character development in this story for Valtrex: he seems to be a stable, steady cat who just wants to make Ke$ha his one Queen and he’s always got a ready equipment in order to satisfy her desires. He’s not weird or stalkery or overbearing or too pushy; he just seems to genuinely want this ultra-special limited-edition Cat Chick to be his #1 gal. Sure, it starts out as a matter of “pride,” being the one to capture one of these rare, elusive Silver Cat Chicks, but after getting to know her, he seems to genuinely like her. Yeah, Valtrex is a cool dude. He’s like the Matthew McConaughey of Alpha males. And why not? His tribe is all about sex, brew, weed, and good times, man.

Ke$ha, on the other hand, is more of a typical heroine: she’s stubborn, feisty, resistant to change, and can’t nobody hold her down. As Valtrex tells her, “The females want to be you, while the young males want to possess you.” It’s the usual stuff that super-special limited-edition chicks have to deal with. Oddly enough, even though Valtrex shows himself to be a fair-minded, logical, reasonable dude, she still assumes the very worst of him. I get that she has “trust” issues and she doesn’t really want to live with the Cat People and this King Dude is forcing her to stay, but— Hmm, I forget where I was going with that. I guess if I were Ke$ha, I’d be resistant to Valtrex’s advances too. Sure, he’s hot, but Ke$ha doesn’t want to be part of his pride. She wants to be an Independent, but as Valtrex tells her, that’s not allowed for Cat Chicks, so too bad for her.

This book is a very easy read. I was able to finish it in one hour. The sex scenes are hot, the h/h are not annoying and actually seem to like each other, and the story-telling kept my attention. My one point of contention is the lack of details in regards to the world-building. I didn’t totally buy it. Ke$ha is supposedly a “Silver Lith-hah” and it is mentioned early in the book that she is some kind of sabre-toothed lion, but it was unclear about what any of it means. There are other terms that are tossed about that the author doesn’t elaborate on: Awakening, Pre-Awakening, True Mate, and there are various rituals and ceremonies, but we are not shown the significance of any of it. What does it mean that Ke$ha ran away from her pride before she was “awakened”? What does it mean for her to be “awakened”? And why is Ke$ha so special? I get that she’s stronger, faster, and bigger in Lith-hah form than other females, but is that it? She seems to be able to shift her human forms so that she can appear younger or older, but is this a trait that is special to her? There also doesn’t seem to be monogamy in this pack and it just seems to be one big puppy (heh) pile. I would have liked to know more about the relationship structures. If somebody becomes your True Mate, does that mean you stop having sex with other Cat People? There is one scene where Ke$ha is watching while another naked Cat Chick approaches Valtrex and starts giving him a blow job. Their eyes meet, Ke$ha gets upset, and she runs away. Was she upset because some other chick had her dude’s penis in her mouth? I wasn’t able to sense if there was true, deep emotions about Ke$ha and Valtrex: they seem to like each other and enjoy the sexy times together, but I didn’t get the feeling that they’re in luuuuuurve or anything. Valtrex also mentions early in the book that he would like Ke$ha to be his “primary female.” Does that mean he gets to bone other chicks and she gets to bone other dudes? Is it a “free love” type of society? I have no problem with that if that’s the case, but I would have liked to read more about the culture, the customs, and the sociology of the pride. As it is, there are Ancients, the Council, the Leader King, and some warrior-types, all of which seem pretty generic.

All and all, I enjoyed Kama Spice’s writing. The prose is clean, the pacing is good, the characters are likable for the most part, and while the world-building could have been meatier, it’s worth a read. Check it out and buy it here.

** The hero’s name is not really Valtrex. I was just making a joke. It’s really Valren.

Whenever I’m about to read a J.R. Ward book, I like to put on some mood music, particularly what the kids call a “rap” song called Pimp of the Year by a genius named Dru Down. I can always count on a sexy, fun, hot time when reading a Black Dagger Brotherhood novel. If the hero and heroine get naked and dirty with each other and I start hyperventilating? If the evil nasty things called lessers are planning something insidious and gross against our protagonists and our heroes know nothing about it? If I would ever find out who those ghost-hunting buffoons are and what they have to do with the Brotherhood mythology? If the massively muscled, ridiculously handsome tattooed and pierced bois wearing designer suits worth more than my annual salary start looking at each other in a funny way and think about grinding their pelvises together? If John Matthew and Beth (who are supposed to be siblings) manage to bump into each other in this massive house and spend two minutes together and maybe just say, “Hey, what’s doin’?” to each other? These are the reasons I always have a portable electric fan on hand and my cell phone within reach so my BFF Shuzluva and I can text each other our favorite passages while giggling and swooning at the same time. It’s harder than it sounds, I assure you. Have you ever tried typing a multi-sentence text message while on the verge of passing out from over-excitement? So I was very excited to finally get my hands on this book? Because John Matthew and Xhex were my favorite characters? And I wanted to see if John Matthew was somehow going to get his voice back? And if Qhuinn and Blaylock would get drunk and make out and have dirty sex on the floor of a bar’s restroom? I was mostly wondering how Xhex and John Matthew’s story was going to play out? If it will have a similar feel to Zsadist and Bella’s story? Because Bella was kidnapped by lessers in that one and Zsadist spends a significant time in the book trying to find her? Like John Matthew does for Xhex in this book? And do we finally find out why JM keeps getting those damn seizures? Am I going to keep talking like this?

Maybe?

What You Should Already Know But Just In Case You Don’t: John Matthew was an abandoned child who grew up with no love or guidance. Born on a restroom floor of a bus depot (train station?), ditched by his mother and raised in an orphanage, failed by the system, and raped in a dark alley by some nasty dude, he is rescued by The Black Dagger Brotherhood and offered shelter when it is discovered that he is the son of the slain Brother Darius and the sibling of the wife of the King of the Brotherhood, Wrath. He is mute and therefore cannot speak. He was raised as a human by humans and starts out as a puny, little impotent weakling who just wants to be loved. The familial love he seeks is given to him by the Brother Tohrment and his wife Wellsie and it seems for a bit that JM finally has the family he has always longed for. But it is cruelly ripped out of his grasp when Wellsie, his foster mother, is brutally murdered by the enemy of the Brotherhood and his foster father Tohrment, unable to deal with the loss of his life-mate, disappears and leaves JM pondering the nature of his unlovableness. JM soon enough finds his own way with the help of the Brother Zsadist (he is seemingly invisible to his sister Beth with whom he never interacts in a significant manner) and becomes friends with pre-transformation vampire offspring, Quinn (Qhuinn?) and Blaylock. He is tormented by another pre-trans called Lash and is often bullied by him until the tension between the two culminates in a major fight that gets Lash thrown out of the Brotherhood compound. In his free time, between training to be a warrior and bemoaning his weak, puny body, John Matthew congregates with his two friends Qhuinn and Blaylock at the club Zero Sum, owned by a vampire called Rehvenge, where they like to “conversate” about the females with whom they would enjoy sexual congress (the pre-trans are impotent, so they are only able to talk about the sexual act and wonder what it would be like). Employed by this club is a tall, lithe, lean, and androgynously beautiful female named Xhex, a half-vampire half-sympath creature. A sympath, as I understand, is an emotional vampire of sorts who can enter another entity’s mind and manipulate him from within. Because the sympaths possess this frightening power, they are reviled and typically hunted to death by the vampire community. Xhex is in charge of security, a take-no-prisoners type of babe for whom John Matthew forms an infatuation which quickly mutates into an obsession. Xhex is amused by him, but does not return his regard. Soon enough, John Matthew goes through his transformation and becomes the proud owner of size 14 boots with which one may utilize to kick cow feces if one were inclined to do so, and drapes upon his rather large frame an XXL shirt that could double as a blanket for a small child. Xhex and John Matthew indulge in what one may crudely call a “wham-bam, thanks, but lose my phone number” session, and it is not the union that John Matthew had longed for; Xhex refuses to kiss him even after allowing him to penetrate her most treasured cavern of feminine secrets. John Matthew seethes… and broods in agony.

Meanwhile, John Matthew’s comrades Qhuinn and Blaylock engage in indiscriminate sexual encounters with many women, some of whom they share together. Too many times during these marathon sessions, their stares have locked onto each other’s and held. Blaylock realizes much to his chagrin that he would much rather be on the receiving end of Qhuinn’s passionate, searing ministrations, instead of pretending he enjoys having sex with women. Unbeknown to Blaylock, Qhuinn, a vampire cast aside by his family because of a physical flaw—he has one green eye, one blue eye—shares his sexual attraction. As much as Qhuinn would like to take Blaylock for a lover, however, there is also nothing more he would like than to get back into his family’s good graces. The vampire society’s upper class, the glymera, may turn a blind eye to certain predilections, but not if one were to openly flaunt it by declaring a person of the same sex as one’s life partner. Qhuinn aims to marry a woman of “worth,” and though his many indiscretions with women may hurt Blaylock now, he knows it will be for the best when Blaylock finally turns away from him in disgust and removes himself from Qhuinn’s reach.

Xhex, an assassin and professional gluteus maximus-kicker by trade, applies barbed cilices to her inner thighs because the pain curbs her evil sympath impulses. She too was abandoned as a child and mistreated by humans and her own kind, which is why she had learned to look out for herself and herself alone. The only person she has ever trusted is Rehvenge, a fellow sympath-vampire hybrid, who has served as her boss, brother, and confessor through the years. The reason for her rejection of John Matthew is simple: she has been down that road before and does not want a repeat. Many years ago, she was involved with a member of the Brotherhood, Muhrder. When Xhex was captured by sympaths, Murhder soon followed and learned of Xhex’s hidden nature. The mental torture Muhrder received at the hands of the sympaths drove him mad and he disappeared, leaving Xhex to wonder if he is dead or alive. As she begins to feel attraction for John Matthew, Xhex strives harder to avoid him and thwart his advances. She tells herself that she doesn’t need anyone and that her “end game” would involve her own satisfaction only. She doesn’t need John Matthew’s “googly” eyes.

And now: At the start of Lover Mine, Xhex is being held captive in a force field (powered by evil?) created by Lash so that she is invisible to the outside world. Lash is the son of the Omega, the evil progenitor of the Lessers and the mortal enemy of the Scribe Virgin, the creator of the vampire race. In between torturing and raping Xhex, plotting the downfall of the Brotherhood, and reigning as the indisputable King of Douchetards, Lash is also an up-and-coming drug dealer and leader of the lessers. But Xhex, as the Brotherhood novels have shown in the past, is no shrinking violet and never fails to give as good as she gets, decorating Lash’s body with bites, bruises, and scratches. She has given up any hope of rescue and the only thing keeping her going is pure unadulterated hatred for Lash and a driving, all-consuming desire to slaughter him as soon as she gets the chance.

John Matthew half-believes Xhex is dead. In her honor, he gets a tattoo of her name in the Old Language across his shoulder blades, a place usually reserved for the name of the male’s chosen mate to be inked into his skin at the mating ceremony. Wrath has assigned a special task force to find Xhex and John Matthew is a part of it, using his cover as a warrior to hide the fact that he is half-insane in his desperation to locate Xhex and get her back. But it’s been weeks since Lash abducted Xhex and the trail has gone cold. Qhuinn and Blaylock attempt to keep up with him as he races up and down all the dark alleys of Caldwell, beating up drug dealers and threatening to bash in the skull of anyone who may know anything, but John Matthew is unstoppable. He is running on fury, sleep deprivation, bottles of hard liquor, and sheer need for Xhex. When Xhex finally escapes from Lash’s clutches, it is John Matthew who finds her hide-out and brings her to the Brotherhood mansion for healing. The two talk, get to know each other, get groiny and naked—the first few attempts are rocky and traumatic for Xhex because she can’t stop thinking about Lash when JM puts his hands on her—and seem to be on their way to falling in love… BUT! Xhex is not the kind of girl to stick around: she wants to kill Lash (and acknowledges that she might not survive the effort) and disappear. John Matthew KNOWS Xhex is not the type of woman who’ll be satisfied being somebody’s wife and mother and wonders if it’s a better idea to split up forever and spend the rest of his life trying to get over her, instead of attempting to cobble together a relationship with her, and they end up destroying each other. BUT! There’s still Lash to maim and kill, so let’s worry about the cuddly-wuddly stuff later.

Back with the Only One Of Us is Truly Gay, Honestly, But We Are In Love With Each Other Duo, Blaylock is getting sick of watching Qhuinn plow women he doesn’t love and wants to get on with his life. When Qhuinn’s slick, Rico-Suave of a cousin (who is serendipitously homosexual, hooray) starts sniffing around Blaylock and asking him out on dates, Qhuinn gets angry. While he is regularly making out with a Chosen called Layla and breaking Blaylock’s heart, Qhuinn had believed that Blay would always be for him, not over there making out with his cousin like he doesn’t understand that he must always remain steadfast and true to Qhuinn even though Qhuinn himself is attempting to have sex with the entire population of skanky, slutty, loose-moraled men and women of Upstate New York. Like WTF, amirite? Blay is DONE waiting in vain for Qhuinn and like that Rascal Flatts song, he is so moving on (Oh, like you wouldn’t be after you witnessed the object of your unrequited love working a bimbo like a child in a Nike factory while staring deep into your eyes for the fiftieth time? Come on! Every man has a “fuck that ish” breaking point!). And Qhuinn seethes with barely repressed rage and jealousy… and angrily makes out with other people.

(I swear to God, I’m positive I saw a Lifetime movie once where these 2 guys are best friends and one guy is in love with the other, but the other is a male-slut and plows anything with a vagina, so the gay one starts dating dudes and the “straight” one gets in a jealous, murderous rage and kills the gay one and his new lover and buries them in the woods or something. Or maybe that’s a Law&Order: SVU episode. Now that I think about it, maybe there’s a scene there where Stabler indignantly slams the perp against the wall and says through gritted teeth, “So you killed the only person who has ever loved you because you hate yourself so much that you couldn’t stand the thought of someone loving a piece of dirt like you?!” while Benson half-heartedly holds him back. I could be making that last part up. But come on, doesn’t that SOUND like it would have come from SVU?)

In this contribution to the Black Dagger Brotherhood series, we also see MORE Lesser drama. Yes, I know this is what you crazy kids have been praying to the Wharden for and like Santa Claus, she provides generously. Lash is determined to be the Forelesser (the big dawg) to bring down the Brotherhood and wants to create the army to do so. But he, like Kim Jong-Il, is also quite ronery. He wants his father, the Omega, to create a woman lesser–specifically Xhex– because he believes he can become stronger if he were feeding regularly from a female like the Brotherhood feeds from the Chosen. The Omega decides Lash is getting too big for his britches and appoints a newbie to be the new Forelesser. Lash, having been rejected by the Brotherhood AND the lessers, decides to kill two birds with one stone by selling out his fellow lessers to the Brotherhood and rubs his hands gleefully as the Brotherhood slaughters them. Lash is OFFICIALLY the Spencer Pratt of the Black Dagger Brotherhood series.

Oh my word: I enjoyed this book. I did. I liked it. But do you want to know why I didn’t love it? Do you want to know what made me want to stomp all over this book at one point, shred it to pieces, and burn it for warmth (Damn you, Gas & Electric!)? In this book, more than ANY other Black Dagger Brotherhood book where women are relegated to background roles like taping up scrapes, hand-holding, and in one extreme case, GHOSThood—being a creature with a vagina is such a TERRIBLE thing. WTF. Xhex, our female protagonist, complains about being a GIRL, feeling like a girl, acting like a girl, being weak like a girl… well, guess what, bitch? YOU ARE A GIRL (and not a woman). A woman would be proud of her accomplishments, her strengths, and not dismiss her weaknesses as “girl-like”. SERIOUSLY?!? A real woman can be tough and brave and just as kick-ass as ANY MAN without denigrating the rest of her sisters are weak, stupid, and emotionally fragile. I think a woman who can chop off a vampire’s head or beat the crap out of someone without breaking a sweat and is all, HELL YEAH I’M A WOMAN, FEAR MY WRATH, would be infinitely more kickass. I understand that this series is really all about the men, but do the females really have to be treated like nothing more than side-pieces, set decorations, or the chick in a threesome roped in to join two dudes because the two dudes can’t admit they’re gay, but are horny for each other, so they literally need a buffer in order to have sexual contact? I was REALLY looking forward to Xhex’s book because in the previous books I thought she was an awesome, strong, capable female, but for her to claim her own femininity as weakness in this book REALLY broke my heart, man. Look at Benson or Sarah Connor or Ellen Ripley or Dana Scully or Maggie Cheung in Hero or Michelle Yeoh in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon or Cate Blanchett in Elizabeth— and yes, my ONE TRUE LOVE, Olivia Dunham, they’re all females and they’re all Warrior Women and all of them seem to revel in the fact that they ARE Women first and foremost, and are proof positive that you don’t have to denigrate being a “girl” to make it in a man’s world. I love everything about being a woman—the menstruation, the hormones, the pain of childbirth (which I have yet to experience), the random crying at stupid shit, the empathy, the boobs that get “accidentally” jostled by creepy dudes at a bar, the ever widening hips, rocking out to Pink’s “Just U + Ur Hand Tonight” like it’s my own personal anthem— and my soul shrivels when I see such BLATANT female-bashing in books written by a woman, for Mary’s sake. I’m not saying J.R. Ward is a girl-hater or anything, but Xhex? Card-carrying girl-hater. Tell me I’m wrong, I welcome it, but back that shit up.

There are also so many storylines going on and from varying points of view that if you’re not paying close attention and accidentally skip a few pages, you’ll find yourself lost and asking what the fresh hell is going on. Here they are, from what I gathered:

1) John Matthew and Xhex
2) A healthy slice of Darius’ past (in italics) - which reveals why Tohrment takes in John Matthew as his foster son and oddly enough, why JM and Xhex are so MFEO.
3) Lash and his never-ending quest to be the biggest douchebag in the universe— yes, even a BIGGER one than John Edwards, Blago, the flesh-bearded Spencer Pratt, Jon AND Kate Goselin, and that shitstack who’s the CEO of BP ( “I would like my life back” FUCK YOU, guy. Seriously, die in a goddamn gas fire, motherfucker!)
4) Payne, who HATES her mother the Scribe Virgin (females hating females *sigh*) and wants to escape and have a real life and inflict her goth-girl angst and issues on some poor unsuspecting schmuck who is blissfully unaware of her existence right now and is possibly living a happy life as of the publication of this tome
5) Layla, who just wants to “feel like a Woman” and does not feel complete unless she is ravished and devoured like a scrumptious blueberry pie fresh out of the oven with a side of pecan ice-cream by a healthy, good-looking “heterosexual” male who wears a watch worth several thousand dollars, name-brand clothing specifically tailored to his rather large form, big leather boots designed for stomping and kicking of feces, and pure, unadulterated pain that can only be kept at bay by whiskey and sitting in the dark listening to Evanescence
4) And what seriously made me scratch my head and go, “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU PEOPLE AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE” - an aging hipster who “sold out” to make money and a big-breasted, blond-haired woman (the hipster has no respect for her because he thinks she’s a skank and an idiot, but secretly, she’s really smart and in love with him and doesn’t sleep around as much as he thinks) who are supposed to be ghost-hunters like those idiots in that show on the Sy-Fy Channel. They visit some out-of-the-way bed and breakfast because it’s supposed to be SUPER haunted and the ghost is some Fabio-type who stalks young women in night or something and has sex with them. MAJOR SPOILER: THIS is how Muhrder is re-introduced? FOR REALS?!?! *sigh*
5) Wrath - the Blind King who does not want to feel helpless and weak, so he has sparring matches with Payne on the Other Side. They punch and kick and head-butt each other. And they’re BFF. I quite enjoyed this part.
6) John Matthew and his tenuous, but slowly developing relationship with his older sister Beth. The two are wary of each other at first, but what starts out as an accidental meeting in front of the fireplace while everyone else is at sleep becomes regular heart-to-heart sessions; they talk about each other’s childhoods, JM asks her for advice regarding Xhex, Beth confesses to her little brother her concerns about the increasingly emotionally distant Wrath and how scared she is of losing him, all over a couple of steaming mugs of cocoa.

Psyche! I’m just kidding about the last part.

What REALLY pleased me about this book is that it fulfilled most of the “wishlist” that my good friend Shuzluva and I have talked about in the past and when I read the “checklist” that she put up in her review at Dear Author, I resoundingly said, “Yep” as I mentally ticked off the items. If I may gratuitously borrow from my sister from another set of parents, Shuzluva: John Matthew does NOT get magically fixed by his fated mate and their subsequent sexin’. Xhex’s issues do NOT get swept-aside and she does not turn into the sadly prevalent stereotype of a whimpering, simpering female who’ll wimpily throw her gun at the monster and leave the ass-kicking to the hero. The developing relationship between the male and female protagonists is front and center and not just background to the overall narrative. The Scribe Virgin does not step in and wave a wand to make everything all better. The hero and the heroine actually WORK on resolving their own issues themselves. Imagine that. No magic wand, no deus ex machina; just two adults hashing things out and making the decision to stay together even though it won’t be easy and neither of them are all the way “okay,” but it just makes sense TO THE TWO OF THEM to be a couple and that’s that. There will be pain, there will be blood, there will be tears, but the alternative would be brooding, angsty, lonely, bitter, drinking hard liquor in the dark and an all-around pain-in-the-ass to other people, so they resolve to be the one of the most fucked-up couples in the history of romance novels. YAY.

Shuzluva and I recently talked about what it is about J.R. Ward’s Black Dagger Brotherhood series that makes us, the readers, wait breathlessly for the next installment to the saga even as we gnash our teeth and vow “Never again!” while ineffectually shaking our fists. And I think I’ve figured it out: WE CARE about these fictional people. J.R. Ward somehow created larger-than-life characters that make us laugh, cry, rant senselessly on our blogs, and pre-order the books on Amazon. And really, that’s all there is to it. That’s the magic. That’s why we crave her books like red velvet cupcakes with cheesecake frosting. I give a shit about these people who don’t exist except in J.R. Ward’s fertile imagination. And that’s why I’m going to keep plunking my money down for each and every installment. Keep ‘em coming, Wharden.

P.S. Will you throw me a bone and make Blaylock+Qhuinn=4EVA in the next book, please? Kthxbai!

Our hero Ig Perrish, the son of a Leonard Cohen-type legend and a showgirl, is an all-around good guy. He’s not as handsome or as talented as his older brother Terry, the host of a late-night show and a musician, but he is happy with his lot in life. His girlfriend, Merrin, is beautiful, kind, and going to school to become a doctor and they have been in love with each other since they were fifteen years old. For as long as Ig could remember, his heart has always belonged to Merrin and he has never wanted anyone else. The two of them meet at church when Ig notices a pretty redhead playing with her cross necklace so that it catches light and flashing it at Ig in what appears to be Morse code. Ig is convinced that he and Merrin are going to get married, have children, live happily ever after, and die in each other’s arms in their sleep. And then one day, Merrin, universally loved by man and critters, is brutally raped, murdered, and everyone in town believes that Ig did it, even his own friends and parents. All of a sudden, everything in Ig’s life starts to go wrong. He drops out of college, starts drinking heavily, shacks up with his high school’s skank, refuses to get a job, and spends every waking moment obsessing about his dead girlfriend. It gets even worse when he wakes up with a bitching headache, puts his hand up to his temples, and finds protrusions from his skull. He looks in the mirror and yep, horns.

But the horns are only the beginning. Ig is horrified to learn that the horns have an unexpected effect on anyone who sees them. Instead of freaking out, they only marvel at the horns for a moment, then blurt out to Ig the vilest, nastiest stuff brewing deep inside of them. They are not just surface confessions, but secrets that people don’t even allow themselves to think about. These are things that most people would deny in their deathbeds, would not even think of telling the people closest to them, and yet the sight of Ig’s horns alone compels them to babble like Tila Tequila on a case of Red Bull and a week of sleep deprivation. What’s more is that they all seem to be asking for Ig’s permission to sin, if Ig thinks it would be okay if they ate an entire box of stale grocery store donuts or backhand their wives for having a smart mouth. Another one of Ig’s powers is the psychic touch. When he puts his hand on a person, all of their past sins and transgressions are revealed to him, and it happens enough times that Ig is almost afraid to touch family members in fear of finding out the dirty, nasty, evil things they’ve done. Now don’t think that Ig turns into a superhero or anything because dude still gets his ass kicked in this book. A LOT. It’s a good thing he heals quickly or he would be dead.

This story unfolds in parts. First we meet Ig and learn that his beloved girlfriend has been dead for a year and he hasn’t been doing a lot of good living ever since. We are also introduced to his horns and new powers. The second part is a Stand By Me kind of thing (SBM is based on a short story called The Body written by Stephen King, Joe Hill’s father): Ig’s brother Terry and his friend Eric enjoy blowing things up with a cherry bomb and Ig tags along with them. They meet up with some kids from the wrong side of the tracks at an abandoned foundry and hang out with them, though the kids are leery of the Perrish brothers because they are rich and their father is famous. Ig, who is asthmatic and not very athletic, decides he’s going to show off in front of their new friends, and rides a shopping cart down a very dangerous hill NAKED. The shopping cart hits a bump, tips over, and Ig goes flying, cannonballing into a river where he almost drowns because he can’t swim. Luckily he is saved by a dude named Lee Tourneau who blows Ig away with his sheer unflappability and all around coolness. These little vignettes of Ig developing friendships and romantic entanglements are interspersed with Ig making a decision to find Merrin’s real killer by using his new powers and punishing the culprit like Liam Neeson and Frank Castle had an ugly baby born with the crazy compulsion to put the hurt on some motherfuckers. There are some disturbing scenes with Ig finding out what his parents and grandmother really think of him as well as a whole section told from the point of view of Merrin’s killer. We get to peek into his devious mind and find out what the hell is wrong with him. It’s really the creepiest part of the book because dude is MESSED UP. It was also interesting to see the story from the killer’s perspective versus how it REALLY happened.

HORNS is the ultimate plea for Sympathy for the Devil. Though Ig is supposed to be a demonic entity, he is not evil. He is truly a good person saddled with the Devil’s powers. My favorite part of the book is Ig standing in front of his reptilian flock (he becomes a pied piper for snakes) like a deranged naked preacher and waxes poetic about the Problem with God. As he tells his ex-girlfriend later on in the book, Lucifer is the first superhero, a powerful being who turns himself into a serpent so he can help Adam and Eve escape from a “megalomaniacal despot.” How can the devil be bad, Ig asks, if he is on the same side as God? God hates sinners and the devil is in charge of punishing them. Even the cute little cameo of Lucifer that pops up in an integral part of the book is portrayed from a romantic angle.

Oh my word: HORNS is a lot of fun to read, yet there are few thought-provoking moments as well. While reading it, I actually found myself contemplating (damn) what I would do if I woke up one morning with horns and Ig’s powers. (I would seek Jennifer Aniston with a tape recorder in hand, get her talking, and sell that shit to TMZ, just to finally to settle that whole “Jennifer Aniston is the sweet, nice girl-next-door everyone wants to be friends with” and “Angelina Jolie is the evil, man-stealing whooooore who took away Jennifer’s one true love” bullshit that I keep seeing on the covers of rags while waiting in line at the grocery store even though that shit happened a decade ago and for that matter, WHO THE HELL ARE THESE KARDASHIANS EVERYONE KEEPS TALKING ABOUT AND WHY SHOULD I CARE HOW KHLOE LOST HER BABY WEIGHT?!?!) Yes, he does some fucked-up stuff (spoiler: he shoves his infirm, wheelchaired grandmother down the hill when he finds out that she believes 1. Ig’s mother [her own daughter] is no better than a hooker, 2. Ig’s brother is a no-talent junkie loser, 3. Ig killed and brutalized Merrin because he’s always been “different” and she always “knew” there was something “off” about him and that he deserves to rot in jail for what he did), but one could rationalize that he was just lashing out because he’s in deep pain and honestly, he only really attacks douchebags. Observe: in the absence of the love of his life, a young man turns into a demon. For Ig, Merrin is the only source of light. It is a metaphor for the different ways people deal with grief; in a moment of extreme vulnerability, we are open to the darkest part of ourselves. And that’s really the most fascinating aspect of this book: the dirty, nasty, depraved things that people tell Ig are the secrets that we bury deep inside ourselves and refuse to acknowledge for fear they will surface and we might lose the fight against the temptation to do these vile things. Just imagine the veritable trove of what-the-fuckery that you keep to yourself versus what actually comes out of your mouth. Now imagine the things you would want to do if your id took over and you stopped listening to the voice in your head that says, “I wouldn’t do it if I were you… it’s hip to be square” and sounds alarmingly like Huey Lewis. HORNS is a cautionary tale, a flashlight-under-the-covers story, and… yes, a love story. Everyone who deserves a happy ending gets one (in a way) and all the assholes get what they deserve (in an awesome pay-off scene where the villain gets what’s coming to him, I actually had to look away from the pages for a few minutes and think happy thoughts before I could continue reading for the sake of my fragile little mind). Yes, there is a chunk of the narrative near the end that is supposed to be a twist and seemed gooey and cheesy and made me go, “what the hell is this Notebook shit?” but when I thought about it later, it was kind of awwww and damn it, I enjoyed The Notebook because Rachel MacAdams and Ryan Gosling are awesome actors. Anyway, check it out. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll wince… you might think it’s better than Cats. Or at least one of those creepy, quirky, funny stand-alone The X-Files episodes that you might stumble upon on the Sy-Fy Channel at 3 in the morning (like “Clyde Bruckman’s Final Repose,” “Jose Chung’s From Outer Space,” “Small Potatoes,” the whole “Dreamland” arc, or “Bad Blood” with a dash of “Terms of Endearment”—the Bruce Campbell episode, not the Shirley Maclaine movie).

OmgIhavetofindabottleofPurellrightnow. I feel so itchy now!

Enough of my neuroses, here’s the blurb.

She hadn’t even known his name…

As an inexperienced drama student, Clare had been shocked and disgusted by the sudden and rough lovemaking of Luke, an older, handsome stranger. She had turned away from love—for good.

Now, nine years later, Clare was a famous actress. She valued her friendship to Macey Janson, a leading playwright and producer, because Macey was willing to leave it at that—just friends.

But when chance suddenly thrust Luke back into Clare’s life, she faced a strange situation that was a threat to all her relationships.

Spoiler, it’s not lovemaking of any kind. It’s rape, that’s it, end of. *blood boiling* Clare is an 18-year-old Londoner struggling to be an actress. She is shy, wide-eyed, and innocent. She has a friend named Leonie who is a vivacious, voluptuous, blousy redhead. She is the type of friend who tells Clare she needs to grow up and get out more.

“We must bring you up to date,” she had said bluntly. “We’re in the nineteen-eighties now, remember. You’re not a schoolgirl anymore.”

She brings Clare to a party on New Year’s Eve where Clare meets a man named Luke

He was a tall, slim man with wide shoulders and an elegantly proportioned body under the dark evening suit he wore. She looked at it, recognising vaguely that it had an expensive cut and styling, which must mean that he wasn’t in anything like her own income bracket.

It was hard to tell in the muted light, but she suspected he was much closer to thirty than twenty, and his sophistication was genuine, unlike her own imitated variety.

Clare is absolutely awed by Luke. She dances with him and because of the whiskey she had consumed on an empty stomach, flirts outrageously with him. Clare gets dizzy and tells Luke she wishes they were in a quieter party and Luke tells her he has a quiet party in mind. Luke kisses her and touches her naughty parts. Clare enjoys his attention at first even though she dimly realizes that the man is allowing himself the liberties she had never given any man. And then it gets ugly.

She went into a frenzy of panic, struggling violently, hitting him with flailing hands which had no idea how to cope with his superior strength, clawing down his face as she fought to get away. She felt her nails raking his skin and he swore with a savagery that appalled her.

“You little bitch!”

Her scream split the apartment. His body violently invaded hers and his hand clamped down over her mouth as she went on crying out in wounded protest.

She went on struggling wildly to escape the pain he was inflicting on her, icy fear making her cold from head to foot, her brain now very clear and stricken with misery, but he ignored her muffled cries, the hands pushing at his broad, naked shoulders, the damp palms sliding on his skin.

This was the girl who thought she was in love with this man, struck by how handsome and sophisticated he was. The scene I quoted above is not “forced seduction,” it is rape. Unbroken by the experience, Clare decides to brush herself off and vows to herself that she will never be tricked by a man ever again. Years later, she becomes a famous stage and film actress and the only man she has ever allowed herself to get close to is a playwright named Macey Janson. Macey is in love with Clare, but Clare can no longer trust any man. Macey is seemingly uninterested in changing the status quo, but drops hints to Clare that he is unhappy she won’t love him back. He writes a play based on what he thinks may have happened to Clare in the past that could make her so cold and indifferent to men and wants Clare to play the lead female part. Though Clare is uncomfortable with the similarities of the play with her own personal tragedy, as an actress, she is willing to accept the challenge. It is while Luke and Clare are vacationing in the South of France that Clare meets up with Luke again and Luke appears to have every intention of finishing what he started with Clare seven years ago. Macey notices Clare’s very strong reaction to Luke and surmises that Clare and Luke must have a PAST. Clare is recalcitrant and won’t correct Macey’s assumption that she’s in love with Luke even as Luke becomes more insistent and threatening about claiming her. Clare finds herself trapped between two strong-willed men who won’t leave her alone and don’t know how to take no for an answer.

The Heroine

…a rather young eighteen, straight up from the country, her big green eyes still wide and innocent, her previous ideas of parties had faded tonight into dim insignificance

She had learnt to skip meals and exist on bread and baked beans […] She had only eaten beans on toast again today and whisky was doing something strange to her metabolism

She was just a young, doe-eyed starving actress trying to make her life for herself in the big city.

Whatever the cost in emotional emptiness, she had determined never to let a man get too close to her again […] Ever since that night, the very idea of a man touching her had made her shudder in sick rejection.

Clare had changed radically from that New Year party. The innocent wide-eyed girl had become a sophisticated woman of twenty-seven whose huge green eyes and sensuous body were plastered all over magazines and posters. Her hair had been styled in light, curling strands which blew around her head, making her look like a sexy boy until one saw the rounded body below her head.

And still she blames herself for the rape

[Luke] had treated her like a tramp and she had behaved like one. It didn’t help to remind herself that she had been very young and very innocent, that she wasn’t accustomed to drink and that she had been alone in a vast city which she found strange and disorientating.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell someone?”

“Rape?” she asked in a slow, tired voice. “How many people would believe me? I went with him of my own accord. And to do him justice, I suppose he thought I was willing, too. He thought he knew what I wanted. How was he to guess I was as thick as a plank?

No means no, girlfriend.

The Hero

She caught the blue flash of his eyes and heard him laugh under his breath. “No wonder our famous friend said you were a frigid little bitch,” [he] drawled.

“You think I’m not dying to give you what you want?” he asked harshly through white lips. “My God, you stupid little bitch, I didn’t close my eyes all night. How could I sleep, knowing you were in the next room and that I could have you if I went in to you?”

“No!” she cried out in tones of strangled terror, thrusting him away with both hands on his chest.

[…]

“I can’t,” she moaned, swinging away to scramble of the other side of the bed.

[His] hands hooked her back mercilessly. He was breathing hoarsely as he forced her down on to the bed and wrenched her head around, one hand thrust into her damp little curls to hold her still.

“You’re not tantalising me and getting away with it, you little bitch,” he grated thickly. “You started this— I’m going to finish it. My God, what do you think I am? I warned you not to play games with me, Clare.”

No, it isn’t Luke.

Clare stared at the strong, male profile with which she was so familiar but which she felt she was seeing for the first time. Macey’s intelligent forehead, heavy-lidded blue eyes, the powerful structure of cheek and jaw, the straight nose and firm mouth—she had seen them all a thousand times and never absorbed them with the intensity she did now.

“Don’t lie—I saw you. He’d been kissing you. What came next? If I hadn’t been so inopportune, would you be in bed by now?”

“No,” she groaned in sick disgust, her body trembling.

He flung her around, his fingers biting into her arm with cruel precision. “Don’t lie to me! I’ve known you for years, remember. I’ve never seen you react to any man the way you react to him.” He paused and asked on a low, driven note, “Are you in love with him?

Aww yeah, Clare, he’s the better catch, all right.

says: It was the 80’s, there were mounds of cocaine to be found on any flat surface, people were gargling with whiskey, and folks were just getting around to acknowledging that a woman wasn’t just three wet holes and two fleshy mounds on her torso that one might call funbags. In this novel, the heroine can barely say rape without second-guessing herself and thinking she deserved what happened. “She was asking for it,” “She was a tease,” “She was drunk,” yada-yada-yada. I couldn’t even buy the romance because the so-called hero kept calling her a “little bitch.” While Clare tells herself she will never be hurt by a man again and will never be so foolish again, the man she falls in love with manhandles her and calls her names. Yes, they start out as friends, but once he realizes Clare might share his feelings, it is then that he becomes suspicious and jealous, accusing Clare of playing games or sleeping with Luke even though it’s obvious that Clare is frightened of the man. Clare never truly heals from her ordeal and Macey doesn’t give her the chance to. Having to bury her own trauma so deep inside of herself that she becomes an entirely different person, then being forced to confront it seven years later and have those wounds torn open, Clare is basically a walking, talking psychological breakdown waiting to happen. Macey bullies her into the relationship at the end and Clare succumbs, having convinced herself that she MUST love him.

I haven’t even scratched the surface here. I realize these two are supposed to be on vacation in this story, but Clare and Macey do nothing but drink alcohol at night and drink copious amounts of coffee during the day. Coffee, Alcohol, Sunbathing, Coffee, Alcohol, Sunbathing. I wouldn’t be surprised if these two are actually alcoholics and suffering from both ulcer and liver damage. Yes, they’re celebrities, and uh-uh it was the 80’s, but seriously, that is all they do throughout the book, interspersed with scenes of Clare white-knuckled and knock-kneed, trying to escape both Luke AND Macey. Clare goes for a swim and sunbathes in the morning, she and Macey banter while drinking coffee/champagne, they go out to dinner, drink alcohol, they almost kiss, Macey becomes convinced that Clare is trying to tease him, Clare runs away to bed, and the whole thing starts over again the next day and repeats ad nauseam. Except for all the attempted rape and the grabbing and verbal abuse, it almost sounds like a nice vacation… in hell.

Sleep tight, kiddies. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.

Cathy and Chris sing like a canary on a karaoke-high as soon as the good doctor asks what’s going on. “Um, our dad died and our disinherited mother begged her parents to take us in but as soon as we got to their mansion, my grandma and mother colluded to lock us up in the attic for four years with no fresh air and sunshine, no other company except for ourselves eating only stale food. Oh and did I mention the poisoned donuts given to us by our mother because she wanted to get rid of us for good? Yeah, arsenic is not good times. Anyway, my baby brother died because he stuffed himself full of the donuts and somewhere along the way, my older brother Chris started looking real good to me and I mean, uh— did I mention my mother is totally evil? And all I wanted to do is dance, dance, dance, and grow up to be a prima ballerina! Is that too much too ask?” Dr. Sheffield thinks the kids are nutzoid at first, but Cathy’s wide cerulean eyes and pretty blond hair sell it like a pro and Dr. Sheffield finds himself totally buying. The good doctor commences to be the best father ever, offering to send Chris to medical school and take care of Cathy and Carrie. Cathy thanks Dr. Sheffield the only way she knows how: by cozying up to his lap, batting her eyelashes at him, and cooing to him in her best Marilyn Monroe impression.

Cathy is the ultimate evil woman in all of us. She is our id. Desire, vengeance, lust, Elektra issues, and conniving manipulation all wrapped up in a trim, slim package of big hair, big blue eyes, and pretty pink nails. Her one consuming goal in life is to make her mother PAY. The one thing she knows will hurt her mother more than anything is if she, Cathy, were to steal her mother’s wealthy, handsome boy-toy Bart Winslow, once she, Cathy, became the most famous, richest ballerina of all time. She doesn’t quite know how she’s going to reach her goal, but she’s pretty sure she can dance, dance, dance her way to it. Every man she encounters become ensnared by her beauty, each man a victim. Behold, the carrion in her wake:

Chris- the beleaguered, long-suffering brother. He is the personification of everlasting, unconditional love. He will love Cathy and Cathy alone for the rest of his life because through his formative years, she was literally the only woman in the world for him. He is a good guy, a martyr. He will follow Cathy to the ends of the earth all the while kissing the ground she walks on. He will never waver in his love for her because he believes he is the only one who can truly love her the way she deserves.

Julian Marquette- the ultimate bad boyfriend. He represents angsty teenage boy lust and sexual desire. If he can’t have Cathy, he’ll die of blue balls. God, can’t Cathy understand that a man has needs and he must have her or he will… oh, he will break something, that’s for damn sure. He is a ballet dancer, all lithe, lean muscular physique and a devil-may-care smile. He will do anything to have Cathy, even if it kills the both of them. If he can’t have her, no one can. NO ONE. He’s the kind of guy who will stomp on Cathy’s toes so she can never dance again, then go home and wreck everything that’s ever meant anything to her. That’ll show her. But the joke’s on him because Cathy’s all about Pokerface: “I want to hold em like they do in Texas Plays. Fold em, let em hit me, raise it baby, stay with me (I love it). Luck and intuition play the cards with Spades to start. And after he’s been hooked, I’ll play the one that’s on his heart.” Yep, he can play the bad boy all he wants, but Cathy’s got the ace… or however it is you win in poker.

Dr. Paul Sheffield – The daddy figure. He will fix everything that’s wrong in Cathy’s life. He will pick her up when she’s fallen. He will kiss her booboos and make it all better. He will allow her to fly and fly free. He will wait for her until she realizes he’s the only one who can ever truly love her the way she deserves and comes back to him. And they will live happily ever after, at least until she has to stick him in a retirement home and get on with the rest of her life. With a younger man.

Bart Winslow– The prize. He is a sophisticated, intelligent, and wealthy playboy, but none of his skills will do him any good because he is nothing but a pawn in Cathy’s plans. He is nothing but a means to an end, the ultimate weapon against Cathy’s mother. To have and to hold Bart means Cathy has supplanted her mother in every way: she’s more beautiful, more desirable… younger.

If you’re asking yourself: where are the other women in this book? Are you kidding? Have you not read the last few paragraphs I just typed? There is no other woman in the world that matters but Cathy. She is her own yin and yang. Everyone else is set decoration. The baby sister Carrie exists only to be jealous of Cathy, to worship her and resent her at the same time. She will never be as good at anything as Cathy or as beautiful as Cathy, so she might as well just die. Henny, the old obese black lady, is the caretaker. She’s no competition to Cathy. She’s old. And fat. And mute. And she probably smells like flour and lard. There’s Yolanda, the ultimate understudy, always waiting in the wings, praying for a chandelier to fall on Cathy’s head so she can take over. And of course she’s a tramp and a slutbag whore who will sleep with any man just to get what she wants. But not in the same way Cathy does it. When Cathy sleeps with a man just to get what she wants, it’s for a greater purpose. It’s not the same at all. Don’t you get it by now?

And then there’s Mother… oh, always there’s Mother.

This book was a lot of fun to read. It’s vintage cheesy, gooey VC Andrews goodness with overwrought dialogue, overcooked descriptions, and melodrama that likes of which General Hospital has never seen (but it can never beat Passions—no way, nothing can ever beat Passions in terms of crazy). Every situation in this book is a matter of life and death and Cathy is always in the middle of it. She is the ultimate teenage girl who swears that her life is OVER just because one little thing in her day went wrong. When Cathy is scorned, the whole universe is humped. The entire world is a stage and Cathy is right there in the spotlight, giving her best Oscar-worthy actressin’ performance. When Cathy’s unhappy, no one will ever be happy again. She is sunlight. She is moonlight. She is destruction. She is rebirth. She is Catherine Doll. And that’s why this is one of my most favorite books EVER. Verdict: AWESOME.

So I must not have been in church on the day that they talked about stigmata. I had not heard of it until I saw that awesome-awful movie starring Patricia Arquette. Is there something I’m not understanding about this idea of receiving the wounds of Christ (punctures through the palms and feet, bleeding forehead, a stab through the side, not to mention the wicked-weird visions and God talking to you) and suffering not just pain but people thinking you’re hurting yourself for attention, just because YOU REALLY LOVE the LORD AND THIS IS YOUR REWARD?!? And why would anyone inflict this thing on a 7-year-old Jewish girl whose parents are in the middle of a really bad, really ugly divorce?

KEEPING FAITH by Jody Picoult is about a thirty-something dollhouse maker named Mariah White. She is married to a sales rep named Colin, a college sweetheart whom she has always secretly thought she doesn’t deserve. She’s an awkward, studious, quiet Jewish girl and he’s the charming, handsome jock she tutors in French. They’re supposed to be in love, unable to keep their hands off each other, can’t even spend a night away from each other. Seven years ago, Colin cheated on Mariah, sending her into a tailspin which pushes her to slash her wrists open. Colin’s idea of helping her is having her committed to a mental institution. While heavily medicated with Prozac and some anti-psychotic drugs, Mariah discovers she is pregnant. She and Colin manage to patch things up (WTF!) and Mariah gives birth to a baby girl named Faith. Mariah is sure of her feelings for her husband―he’s the greatest man ever, she can never live without him, she loves him ohsomuch―but not quite sure about her love for her own daughter. Faith seems to be more like her gregarious, outgoing, and clever mother than herself; moreover, Mariah can’t help but look at Faith and wonder if there’s something wrong with her due to the drugs Mariah had taken during her pregnancy. Mariah would rather spend her energy loving her husband and making tiny dollhouses (with no dolls; you can’t play with all of the dolls all at once, so some of the time, some of them are just lying around lifeless and neglected). She would often watch mothers playing with their children and ask herself why she can’t love her daughter the same way.

Mariah’s tenuous hold on happiness slips away from her fingers altogether when she comes home one day with Faith (they were on their way to Faith’s ballet practice, but Faith had left her leotards at home) and finds Colin half-naked in their bedroom with his new girlfriend taking a shower in their bathroom. Mariah keeps it together long enough to get to her mother’s house, push Faith into into her mother’s welcoming embrace, and lock herself in the guest room for three days. Colin contacts her 4 days later and says he doesn’t love her anymore and wants a divorce. During this time, Faith decides to stop talking, retreating to a corner with her crayons and drawing pad, while Mariah is unable to shake off the funk. Mariah’s mother takes over the care-taking of Mariah and Faith, at times loving, at times berating Mariah to get over herself and take a look at her daughter. Though haltingly and awkwardly at first, she approaches her daughter and develops a friendship with her.

And then one day, Faith confesses that she’s been talking to God. Mariah is surprised by this because even though she is Jewish, religion has never been practiced in her home. There is no Bible there, they don’t go to church or temple, and they’ve never spoken about God. Mariah takes Faith to a child psychiatrist who tells her that imaginary friends are normal for children to have, but when Faith starts quoting scriptures and telling Mariah things she can’t possibly know about, Mariah begins to wonder if Faith might be talking to GOD, after all. Mariah seeks the help of rabbis and priests to no avail. When Faith’s bemused psychiatrist brings the case to a symposium for help―the anti-psychotic drugs do not work on Faith―gossip and speculation about what’s truly going on with Faith begin to spread like wildfire. Soon enough there are reporters, tabloid riffraff, and paparazzi hanging out on Mariah’s lawn. One of them in particular, a charming and handsome anti tele-evangelist named Ian Fletcher takes a special interest in Mariah rather than Faith. Ian’s job is to expose charlatans and supposed religious miracles for the fakes that they are; he is a renowned atheist. Ian is convinced that Mariah is a conwoman using her own daughter for her attention-whoring purposes, yet… aw, damn it, she’s real pretty and Ian can’t stop thinking about her. As the scandal and hype around Faith begin to grow―she brings her own grandmother back from the dead, cures a baby of AIDS, helps reconcile a feuding couple about to get a divorce―Mariah realizes there is no one she can trust and she is the only one who can save and protect Faith.

I picked up this book because of one thing only: the stigmata. I was intrigued by the notion of such a grotesque, yet supposedly beautiful thing being visited upon a seven-year-old child. Can you imagine bleeding from your hands and feet for no reason whatsoever and the doctors can’t find anything wrong with you? I was also curious to find out if the little girl was faking it to get the attention of her feuding parents or if Mariah was a psycho who was hurting her child to get her husband to talk to her again (what a twist!) But this is not that kind of book. Even though this story has plenty of intrigue, drama, and fantastical things, at the heart of it is really Mariah finding her own worth as a woman and discovering that she can take care of her own child without the help of anyone else. In the beginning of the story, Mariah is a scared little thing who would rather lock herself up in her room rather than face her own child who needs her. Faith is a special girl: she’s artistic, more outgoing than her mother, and seemingly more sophisticated than a girl her age. This book is supposed to be about these two females finding each other and bonding together against all odds.

And yet… not so much. I was expecting to find a lot more scenes of Mariah sitting down next to Faith and just talking to her, getting to know her better. After all, at the beginning of the story, Mariah is unable to relate to Faith. She says Faith is more like her mother, more likely to fight back, when Mariah would rather tuck tail and hide. While there are scenes with Mariah and Faith bonding together, there just wasn’t a moment where Mariah looks at Faith and thinks, “Okay, I get you now.” Mariah spends a bit of time worrying about Faith, what’s happening to Faith, and how the hell she’s supposed to deal with Faith, but a lot of it is just that: worrying. When she’s not being neurotic about Faith, she’s fantasizing about a way to get Colin back and soon enough, mooning about some other guy. I found it a little odd that Mariah would be so willing to jump into a relationship with someone so immediately when she just had her heart torn out by a man she thought was her one true love. It seemed to me that the author could have thrown a couple of scenes with Mariah REALLY TALKING to Faith and finding out what’s really going on with her. It was just kind of weird that she would be willing to get involved with a guy already when she still has a life to build up and a possibly emotionally disturbed daughter to raise. Where’s your head at, Mariah?

This is the first Jodi Picoult book I’ve read and I finished it in one sitting. It took me about six hours to read the whole thing and I was utterly absorbed. There were times when I was frustrated with Mariah for being so distracted with everything else instead of actually sitting down to talk to her kid, but for the most part, I really enjoyed this book. Even though the topic is Christian mythology, the religious aspect of it doesn’t beat you over the head. The Christians aren’t right, the Jews aren’t wrong, no one is trying to convince anyone of anything, you don’t have to tithe 10% of your salary to your church after reading this book if you don’t want to. Maybe God is really talking to little Faith or maybe it’s just her imagination, you decide. There is a surrealistic, magic feel to the story, but it is woven well enough with the not-so-magic aspects of it that it really works. The pacing is good, the writing itself is lush and beautiful, and there’s even some awesome Kramer vs Kramer courtroom drama at the end. It’s a fun way to spend a few hours. Pick it up if you feel like heading down to the beach, stripping down to your bikini, and reading under the sun.

I may accidentally reveal how the movie ends. I’m terrible that way.

The movie opens with a bunch of drunken fools on videotape telling the camera how much they love the newly married couple and wishing them good luck. The video dissolves and we see a couple driving around in a Jeep all goofy and laughing, with the bride’s foot hanging out in the window. The groom is Steve Zahn and he is a screenwriter from Venice Beach and his bride, Leeloo Multipass is Mrs. Screenwriter’s Wife from Pacific Palisades. They are recounting the events of their wedding with Steve Zahn mentioning that his douchebag brother from Massachusetts just had to give him one last noogie and Leeloo counters that she thought the brother was from Maryland and Steve Zahn says, “Whose brother is it, anyway?” They giggle like newly married tools. Leeloo’s foot hits a low-hanging branch as Steve Zahn drives a little close to the side of the road and Leeloo shrieks, but Steve Zahn apologizes and kisses her.

The pair are in Kauai and are about to go hiking and find a kickass beach in the middle of nowhere to have sex in where they are likely to stumble upon a lost tribe of Filipino cannibals who’ll skin them alive and roast them like spam to eat with their warm bottles of San Miguel Beer. They stop at a tourist gift shop to pick up the necessary permits and some sun-and-sand paraphernalia. Leeloo picks up sunblock and stuff like that while Steve Zahn talks important manly hiking stuff with the cashier. Leeloo drops her armload of crap on the counter and demands from Steve Zahn a declaration that he missed her while she was gone for nine seconds, but Steve Zahn ignores her even as she rubs up against him and promises to give him a blowie in the car if he did so. Steve Zahn continues to ignore her and Leeloo gets huffy until Steve Zahn kisses her and reveals he was just pretending to ignore her all along. The cashier rolls his eyes. Steve Zahn is oblivious as he pulls out a big wad of cash to pay for their stuff as some squirrelly looking brown people look hungrily at the money and mutter some gibberish native language to make the white honeymooning couple and the audience suspect that the locals will follow their dumb cracker asses, beat the shit out of them, and steal their money. And possibly rape the wife. The two idiots drive away happily as the locals stare at them in their squirrelly manner. They run over a newspaper reporting the massacre of two haoles in Oahu and the suspects are still on the loose. Foreshadowy!

Steve Zahn and Leeloo Multipass are driving merrily along when they come across a couple of unwashed hippies thumbing for a ride on the side of the road. Much to Leeloo’s distress, Steve Zahn stops and invites the couple to hop on. Leeloo gives Steve Zahn the death stare and wonders out loud why they would do something so incredibly stupid now such as pick up hitchhikers when it’s something that they normally wouldn’t do. Steve Zahn is slightly cowed by the daggers in Leeloo’s eyes and lamely reasons that it’s Hawaii and NOTHING BAD EVER HAPPENS IN HAWAII. (except earthquakes and volcanoes and the possibility of the islands getting swallowed by a giant tsunami and dumb tourists who wake up in a tub of ice with their kidneys removed… or is that Mexico?)

The dirty hippie girl is played by Marly Shelton whom I’ve always thought is really pretty, but she’s got dreadlocks in this movie, gross―and hops happily into Steve Zahn and Leeloo’s Adventure Jeep even though Leeloo is still giving Steve Zahn a death glare and being totally obvious about not wanting dirty hippies in their Adventure Jeep where they apparently partake in dangerous sexual exploits while driving. Steve Zahn ends up reneging on the invite by telling the hippies they’re probably not going as far as they are and Marly Shelton’s boyfriend pops up calling Steven Zahn on his bullshit and he’s obviously some kind of criminal and has a tattoo on his bare chest that says Do Not Revive which makes Steve Zahn totally nervous.

Sensing her partner’s mounting rage and aware of his inclination to crush the faces of smug hippies with his fists, Marly Shelton hurriedly brings out photos of their dirty hippie wedding which she shows to Leeloo Multipass. Leeloo, who is obviously a sucker for cheesy pictures, changes her mind about taking in potentially murderous hitchhikers and says what the hey, come aboard. But Do Not Revive’s manhood has been totally insulted and they would rather walk, fuck you very much, and drags Marley Shelton out of the Jeep. Mr and Mrs Steve Zahn, while totally freaked about Do Not Revive’s violent outburst, shrug it off and continue on their merry way.

At this point, I turn to Marc and tell him I don’t think they’re the killers. Why would they be? Sure, Do Not Revive looks like he would happily kick a puppy through a field goal and would probably be the type to smack a woman around for having a smart mouth and there’s something about the way Marly Shelton looks that suggests these two have a filthy drug habit and that Do Not Revive isn’t opposed to pimping out his wife so they can score the cash to buy some sweet, sweet meth. Not that meth isn’t an evil thing that pushes people to do crazy things like joyously murder people while in the act of mugging them and who’s to say that Marly Shelton and Do Not Revive wouldn’t have been the kind of people to mug the folks who kindly offered them a ride. But I said bullshit because… oh come on.

“Ten bucks say Steve Zahn and Leeloo Multipass are the killers and they’re not who they say they are,” I say to Marc.

“That would be pretty cool,” Marc says.

“Yeah, this movie would suddenly be a hundred times cooler.” And as I said that, I realized that if this movie were indeed full of “twists and turns,” my speculation would be the likely “twist.”

Steve Zahn and Leeloo set off on their hiking trip and there are some really kickass and breathtaking scenes that made me wish I had a lot of money and could just take off for Hawaii tomorrow especially since Newport Beach’s weather has been total ass. Along the way, they encounter a scary cliff that Steve Zahn hesitates to scale because he wears glasses and he’s a Hollywood screenwriter and that’s just not the kind of stuff he’s into. He and Leeloo are gawking in fear at the very real possibility of death by falling off a cliff when a tall, muscular, a-little-too-friendly bloke easily steps over the crevasse they’ve been staring at and encourages Steve Zahn in a gruff, macho way to stop being a vagina and just take a step. Steve Zahn makes it to the other side though not as gracefully, then extends his arm to Leeloo telling her it’s not a big deal. Leeloo goes for it but her foot slips and she would have plunged to a certain death had it not been for my favorite happy-go-lucky sociopath, Timothy Olyphant (who will always be sexy-delicious to me because of Deadwood) who easily reaches out and grabs her arm before she could fall. Steve Zahn and Leeloo Multipass look upon Timothy Olyphant’s rough, granite-hard visage with equal parts fear, awe, and possibly sexual arousal ’cause dude is just that awesome. The man has been known to impregnate women just by winking and smiling at them. True story.

Timothy Olyphant is obviously the macho alpha to Steve Zahn’s bespectacled beta as evidenced by the former’s lack of gear because real men don’t need hiking accoutrement like sissies. Steve Zahn and Leeloo, however, are packed like they spent their year’s salary at Dave’s World O’ Camping and have it all strapped to their backs. Timothy Olyphant tells the twosome that he’s heading for this kickass beach that no one knows about and Leeloo is totally like, “ZOMG, can we tag along?” Steve Zahn is a little more reluctant, but Leeloo is looking like she wants to shove new hubby down a ravine and attach herself to Timothy Olyphant’s back like that creepy Yoda backpack. The honeymooning couple follow Timothy Olyphant like he’s that surly, gay British actor who plays Edward Cullen and they’re 13-year-old Twihards at a Fangbanger Convention.

On the way, the threesome bump into a bunch of shrill, hysterical college girls on vacation who are totally freaking out because the father of one of the girls saw the Oahu massacre on the news and wants his daughter to come home. Leelo is concerned and asks if there are suspects in custody, but the girls are too busy panicking, though they manage to reveal that the killers are a couple: a man and a woman. “Oh, yeah, like Natural Born Killers!” Steve Zahn looks at Timothy Olyphant like he’s wearing a hockey mask and wielding a machete, but Timothy Olyphant is like, “Whatevz, bitches. Come or don’t.” Leelo reminds Steve Zahn that they’re on they’re honeymoon and Oahu is, like, a million miles from Kauai, and they go with Timothy Olyphant anyway because he’s by himself and could not possibly be a part of a couple. During their companionable chitchat, Steve Zahn reveals he’s a screenwriter and Timothy Olyphant immediately looks interested and calls him a “screenplay writer,” even though Steve Zahn insists it’s just “screenwriter.” Timothy Olyphant says if Steve Zahn is looking for ideas, he should probably write about Timothy Olyphant because he’s awesome and has seen more fucked up things in his life that anyone who has ever lived. He adds that there would be many “twists and turns” as well as a few “red snappers,” to which Steve Zahn says, “It’s ‘red herring’,” and Timothy Olyphant says, “I’m pretty sure it’s called a ‘red snapper,’ dude, but you’re the screenplay writer.”

The three of them manage to make it to this super-secret beach where there is a very hot, very gorgeous, very naked chick floating on the water in a raft. Timothy Olyphant immediately strips off his clothes and jumps in to join her, introducing the woman as the “crazy love of my crazy life.” That’s apaprently one to many “crazy” in one sentence for Steve Zahn and he totally wants to book it ’cause uh, HELLO, the killers are a couple and Timothy Olyphant is no longer a solitary dude! Leeloo Multipass must have taken some oblivious clueless pills this morning because she totally ignored Steve Zahn’s look of alarm, takes off her own damn clothes, and dives into the pool to join the crazy couple in love. While Leelo Multipass is canoodling with their potential killers, Steve Zahn hears a noise and goes to investigate—dingleberry!—guess who he finds? The meth-head lovers, Marly Shelton and my favorite skull-fucker, DO NOT REVIVE, of course! Do Not Revive makes threatening, grandstanding gestures at Steve Zahn who’s all, “Gulp!” and says, “Oh, so you’re a lying liar who lies and couldn’t give us a ride because you were going the other way and now here we are, somehow ending up at the same place. Quelle coincidence, no?” Timothy Olyphant jumps to the rescue and scares away the meth-heads. They go back to the pool where the girls are, tells the girls to hurry, but Steve Zahn just has to look through their bags to look for their hiking permit. He is unable to find it, but he finds the bag of Marly Shelton and Do Not Revive and looks through it too, just to be sure that their hiking permits haven’t been stolen by the dirty hippies. Suddenly, Timothy Olyphant is all, “Dude, seriously, get a move on,” and Steve Zahn hauls ass and away they go.

They end up at a cliff just as the sun is starting to set and the four of them are all awed by its beauty. They decide to camp out for the night and hang out for a bit before continuing the hike down to the beach. Timothy Olyphant announces he’s hungry and is going hunting for wildlife and taunts Steve Zahn for being a pussy when Steve Zahn says he’s not very comfortable with killing animals. Timothy Olyphant starts babbling about himself being in the Special Forces and how he’s really hard to kill since he once took a shrapnel to the back of the head and half of his skull is made of titanium now. Pretty Blond Girlfriend gives him a look like, “shut the fuck up, bro,” and Steve Zahn and Leeloo Multipass get nervous and shoot each other anxious WTF stares.

Suddenly, the guys hear a noise in the jungle and set off to investigate while the girls are left alone to talk and do what girls do. The pretty blond girl who plays Timothy Olyphant’s girlfriend starts talking about her childhood growing up in Virginia or Georgia or West Virginia (I forget) and how good she is with guns and killing things and even Leeloo Multipass who is totally oblivious to the fact that their hiking companions could be serial killers is like, “Gulp!” When Blond Girlfriend is finished talking, she points to Leeloo Multipass and tells her it’s her turn. Leeloo Multipass is reluctant at first and Blond Girlfriend mocks her about her perfect life and Leeloo Multipass gets annoyed and says her life is hardly perfect and she just really wants to have kids and talks about her own childhood and tells a story about a guy she dated named Rocky who showed her a dead dog he mutilated on their 1st date. Blond Girlfriend is all, “WTF!” The guys return and Steve Zahn and Leeloo Multipass go into their tent and plot some way to escape their would-be killers without alerting the other two that the jig is up. They decide to stay till morning and wake up to helicopters ordering them to get out of their tents. The foursome is wondering what the heck is going on when they see a bunch of cops arresting Marly Shelton and Do Not Revive who are violently resisting. The cops tell the foursome that they found a little box full of teeth in the bags of the meth-head lovers which makes them the killers because the killers liked to take out the teeth of their victims.

After the cops are gone, the foursome look at each other and laugh, saying stuff like, “Whoa, we thought you were the killers,” and “Noooo… we thought YOU were the killers. Oh, funny coincidences! Now that neither of us could possibly BE the killers, we can all let our guards down and relax. Hooray!”

But you knew the meth-head couple couldn’t possibly be the killers because we have about twenty minutes left in the movie. So who’s the killer now?

This movie turned out to be a lot more fun that I thought it would be. It’s not an Academy Award contender or anything, but it’s still an okay way to spend about eighty minutes especially when you don’t have cable and you’re wondering what you should watch while enjoying Tuesday’s Macaroni Surprise. Steve Zahn plays a good hapless husband who’s a total dork and can/can’t fend off a couple of crazed killers and Leeloo Multipass is always nice to look at and even though she’s not the best actress of her generation, she and Steve Zahn do well together. As for Timothy Olyphant, it’s always nice to see this guy because I enjoy him as an actor even though he always seems to be playing a badass who knows his weapons and may or may not be a serial killer, but that’s just his charm. Blond Girlfriend whose name I can’t be bothered to look up was also nice to look at and does a passable job with what she’s given. The four of them work well enough together and have good chemistry. The dialogue is a little painful, but the director knows pacing and sustains the tension and suspense well enough throughout the movie even though you’ll probably guess who the killers are midway through but will watch the rest anyway just to see if you are right. I give it an Aiiiiiight and a 75/100. Surprisingly better than it should be, but I did see the trailer originally and thought, “Oh, man, this movie is going to be TERRIBLE. I have to see it!”

But fate is seemingly kind to pretty, blond people and the princess called Corinne and the dirty uncle called Christopher, change their last name to Dollaganger, manage to build a happy little life together, in love and utterly ensnared with each other’s remarkable golden blond looks. Genetics be damned, the two pretty pretty people make love like pretty pretty blond monkeys and produce two perfectly beautiful blond and blue eyed children with two arms, two legs, and are luckily intelligent and talented in their own special way. The blond girl-child is named Cathy and the blond boy-child is named Christopher, after their father. The two children are so utterly perfect and doll-like that they are nicknamed the Dresden Dolls. The girl-child is beloved by the father and shows signs of growing up to be one of those creatures seeking a man to marry who will love her the way Daddy had loved her. The boy-child is favored by the mommy. The mother Corrine, unsatisfied with her current lot and practically mocking fate to give her mutant deformed babies, gets pregnant again and has two more perfectly golden blond babies, fraternal twins called Cory and Carrie. Cathy pouts when she discovers she will no longer be the baby of the family and solicits a promise from her daddy that he will not love the new girl-child more than he loves her and as a testament to that promise, Daddy puts on a heart-shaped garnet ring on Cathy’s tiny doll-like finger.

The Dollagangers live happily for a bit, though it’s obvious there are some unsavory things brewing in the mist. Young Cathy, for example, seems unhealthily attached to her father and is almost hostile to her mother. Young Christopher, on the other hand, thinks the world of his mother and that all women should strive to be like her, the paragon of womanly perfection. The twins Carrie and Cory are left to their own devices, but that’s okay because they’re eerily attached to each other and speak their own alien language. And then Fate decides she’s sick of the Dollagangers creepy little homelife and takes away the father with a brutal car accident (VC Andrews’ favorite character-killer). According to the police, he would have walked away from the initial impact with only minor bruises and scrapes, if his car hadn’t been hit by another car, causing it roll over and over, and explode into flames. Cathy is despondent, Mother doesn’t know what to do because she had been raised only to depend on a man and really knows nothing about living in the real world without one, and little Christopher realizes he is now the man of the house. The twins Carrie and Cory coo in the corner and wonder what the hell is going on.

Corrine, unable to cope with the mounting unpaid bills and her own inability to take care of herself much less her four growing children, write and plead with her truly evil, unforgiving parents to take herself and her little family in. When inquisitive little Cathy asks why Corrine was disinherited in the first place, Corrine is forced to admit that she married her dirty uncle and her parents were disgusted with her. She explains to her children that her family is rich—very, very, very rich—and they could be the heirs to a great fortune if Corrine could only get her father to forgive her. The letter from Corrine’s mother finally arrives and Corrine commands her children to pack as lightly as they could and ushers them into a train in the dead of night—lest they are seen by debt collectors—bound for Virginia. When the train gets to Virginia, Cathy is confused when her mother asks the conductor to stop in the middle of nowhere so that they can get off. Corrine tells the children that they would have to hike to the mansion now. Corrine reasons that the father does not know about the children, so Corrine would have to hide the children in the attic of the mansion first before catching up to the train at the main stop and pretending she had traveled by herself. Corrine begs Cathy to understand that the father must forgive Corrine first before she could introduce the children to him and she’s absolutely sure that the evil father will love the beautiful blond children as much as they’ve ever been loved by their beautiful blond parents.

The children are ushered into the attic via a hidden staircase by their apologetic, anxious mother and a large, forbidding, austere woman that Corrine introduces as the children’s grandmother. The woman calls the children “devil’s issue” and says they should never have been born because they are an abomination. Corrine assures her beautiful blond babies that it will only be for the night, two at most, and then they will be let out of the attic and they can all live happily ever after in the lap of luxury. Cathy is suspicious, but allows herself to be convinced even as doubt and resentment begin to fester in her tiny little heart. She studies the dusty, dank room and glares at her mother, who smiles feebly. Cathy frowns at the two beds. The grandmother orders that the girls will share one bed and the boys will share the other. And they are never ever to be naked in each other’s presence. And to be very, very quiet or they will get the brunt of her cold rage. Corrine promises she will see them soon and blows kisses before she is dragged out of the door by the wide-shouldered grandmother. The four beautiful blond children stare in horror at the closing door and gulp as the lock ominously clicks.

The overnight stay turns into three days, stretches into a week, then a month. Corrine sneaks a visit to the children as often as she can, each time promising them that it will be just a little bit more. The father, it turns out, is a little more unforgiving than she remembered and with that, she shows the children the whipping lashes on her back. Her punishment, she says. The grandfather will die soon, she tells the children, and they will inherit everything and they’re all going to be so filthy rich. The children plot to win over the grandmother, but that proves to be an impossible task because the woman hates them and refuses to talk to them every morning that she hauls up the big picnic basket filled with the children’s provisions for the day. At first, they are veritable feasts, each meal more delicious than the next. And then, little by little, the quality of the food they are brought begins to deteriorate: the chicken is bland and cold, the bread is stale, there’s never any dessert, and the soup is never ever hot. Even the mother’s visits become more infrequent. And yet each time, she seems to be more beautiful, cheerful, happier, and healthier than she has ever been, bringing them lavish gifts and solemn promises that the day they are set free will be soon, a week at most. Much to the dismay of her brother Chris, Cathy begins to taunt her mother, confronting her with her lies: “You said it was just going to be another week, Mother,” “Where have you been, Mother?” and “Why haven’t you come to visit us in a month, Mother?”

As the months stretch into years, the children entertain each other by cleaning up the attic and making it a more livable space. Cathy dreams of becoming a prima ballerina and practices with the barre that Chris has installed for her. Chris wants to become a doctor someday, poring over the books their mother brings especially for him. The two of them become the default parents of their two younger siblings, rousing them from their nightmares, staying up to watch over them when they have a cold, comforting them when they are hurt. But because they are deprived of sunlight, the twins remain sickly and thin, their heads growing much faster than their bodies. They are pale and wan, crying for their mother. Cathy, feeling helpless and unable to do more for the twins, begins to blame the mother, hating her for putting them in such a dreadful situation, even as Chris attempts to placate her, inventing excuses for why their mother hasn’t visited them in two months.

With Cathy growing more embittered, Chris half-heartedly believing that their mother still loves them, and the twins becoming more wan and sickly each day, they stare fruitlessly at the door, waiting. But the door remains locked. And no one ever comes to guide them out.

If you think this story is about four children who eventually win over their grandparents, the servants, and their own selfish, inconsiderate mother with their winsome, charming ways and live happily ever after, you are wrong. I saw the movie before I read the book. I was maybe eleven years old. It was two o’clock in the morning, I couldn’t sleep because I had the worst head cold, so I was browsing through the channels, and stumbled upon the movie on TBS. There was Kristy Swanson from Buffy The Vampire Slayer, some guy whom I always thought was a blond Craig Sheffer, and two creepy blond children. They were locked in an attic by their mother and grandmother for four years and Kristy Swanson and the blond not-Craig Sheffer were starting to give each other looks that said, “Hey, how you doin’?” And I was like, “Ewwwww!” but I was fascinated and kept watching. I was in the 7th grade when I found the book by V.C. Andrews. I was looking for some Babysitters’ Club books when I came across Flowers in the Attic. I brought it home and devoured it, neglecting my homework, chores, dinner, and favorite TV shows, one of which was Beverly Hills, 90210. I was hooked: disgusted, scared, creeped out, and yet breathless for the moment that Cathy and Chris might finally kiss… yeah, yeah, I was twelve, all right?

This book is about the ultimate evil: a mother who deliberately locks up her own children in an attic so she can pretend to be a single woman, living a life of luxury and riches that they will never know, all the while promising her children that everything will be okay. The mother figure is the one person a child should be able to trust, when she tells you “It’s all right, sweetie, there are no monsters in the dark,” a child should be able to believe her. It doesn’t quite work when the mother IS the monster in the dark. Corrine is manipulative, greedy, and will stop at nothing to get what she wants, even if it means torturing her own children. Which brings me to what made me feel really uncomfortable about this book: there is not one redeemable female character in it. Every woman in this book, down to the five-year-old Carrie, is despicable. It pits woman against woman, mother against daughter, and sister against sister at every turn. Olivia, the grandmother, is embittered, overly religious, uncaring, and punishes her own daughter through her children because the daughter eloped with her own uncle while she herself is unloved by a cheating, philandering husband who sleeps with the wife of his own brother and gets her pregnant. Corrine, seemingly well-intentioned and a loving, though clueless mother, collapses emotionally after the death of her husband, and in her desperation, begs her cruel, sadistic parents to take her back, forsaking her children when her parents tell her that they’re not part of the deal. Cathy, though young and inexperienced, is already vindictive and suspicious, plotting the downfall of her mother and using her not inconsiderable charms to manipulate her brother who already sees her in a not-quite brotherly way. Carrie, the child, just whines and… is annoying. The males in this book, however, are portrayed as weak creatures who are easily swayed by feminine wiles, susceptible to the lures of the flesh and other vices, and… well, they have this tendency to succumb to their dirty, dirty urges, and rape the woman when the need shoved them to do so.

What makes this book a classic, a total smorgasbord of cheese and over-the-top what-the-fuckery that would make a Mexican telenovela veteran writer go, “What the shit was that?!?” is the overwrought, overcooked prose. The seventeen year old MALE Chris, for example, talks like Dame Barbara Cartland wrote. The entire third act was basically Chris narrating the whole thing to Cathy complete with lurid descriptions of everything down to the furniture and their mother’s Joan Collins wardrobe and dialogue tags with adverbs. This book would not have worked without it. It had to be lurid and over-the-top and cheesy because otherwise the contents and the plot are probably scary enough to make you have nightmares for years. There’s poison, incest, torture, unkind grandmothers who give her grandchildren spoiled chicken and stale bread instead of warm gingerbread cookies, creepy dirty uncles, blond-haired blue-eyed children whose heads are too big for their bodies, a dusty dirty attic with a toilet that tends to get backed up and no way to unclog it except with your hands and a wire hanger, daddies dying in a massive car explosion, and pretty blond girls who have to go bald because their evil grandmothers poured hot tar on their hair while they’re sleeping. This book also made me afraid of powdered donuts, mice, and sitting in a crowded, hot bus getting progressively nauseous without anywhere to throw up. The bad—nay, dramatic writing exists to protect the reader from the cornucopia of evil things happening in this book, so you can tell yourself afterward that it’s just a fairytale as conceived by the bastard child of Dame Barbara Cartland and Clive Barker. That’s all it is.

Did I ever tell you about my irrational, yet bowel-loosening fear of blond-haired, blue-eyed children?