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I've been a bit absent, clearly, between having a reaction to my first shot (all done now!) and trying to keep my Job From Hell.  The rest of the summer might follow this pattern as Job From Hell must be maintained while also (1) moving to new home, (2) selling current home, (3) dealing with a bunch of stuff that had been put off due to Pandemic Reasons.  So, yes, bit of spottiness to be expected and then I shall re-establish posting with some regularity.

This book was so frustrating for me.  For one thing, De La Rosa is a delightful human being who is releasing a series about historical Latina heroines coming up and that sounds fantastic, so I'm in general excited about this writer, which by nature makes me want to like to the book all the more.  There's also at least some of the research done by Rose Lerner, whom I adore straight up in all capacities.  But as you might guess from the descriptor "fascinating" I had some pretty big issues with this piece.

The set up is, we have Charlotte, recently widowed by a man who worked for the East India Company and newly back in England with no recommendations for employment.  To make matters worse, she is lowborn and Jewish.  Through what is basically a misunderstanding, she ends up meeting Finlay, our male lead, who is a Viscount attempting to run for parliament.  They have a night of passion, he is going to offer her to be his mistress, she slips out before that can happen.

Fast forward some time, turns out she's managed to find a teaching position at a home for orphans run by a family who's helping Finlay with his political career.  I will state, there's a fair amount of this book that felt confusing because I had not read the first in the series.  I'm used to romance series being disconnected enough that not having read the first won't matter, I don't feel that's the case here.  There's a WHOLE bunch of info that you sort of slowly figure out was learned in the first book, not the least of which is that Finlay is actually illegitimate, something not known to anyone but him and his sister--who is married to a Duke and was clearly the female lead of the first book--and that his dad cheated a whole bunch of people out of money and is Not A Good Dude.

The rest of the plot runs on essentially two lines: Finlay needing a high class marriage for his political career because of Daddy's rep, and Charlotte's ex-in-laws being fraudulent anti-Semitic douchecanoes who are trying to ruin her life.

Charlotte and Finlay are both reasonably engaging characters, they have chemistry, the romance works.  All of the things that in a romance novel I would normally base my enjoyment or lackthereof on, are perfectly solid.  I wouldn't call them standout, but both characters have their own stories, their own needs, motives, etc., there's not an undue amount of drama for drama's sake, overall, as a romance, this should rate somewhere as "interesting, looking forward to seeing growth from this author."

Why does it not, you ask?

For a few reasons.  1.  As I said above, one of the first things we learn about Charlotte is that she was over in India, actively and happily engaging in colonization, which makes her a hard character for me to like.  And sure, yup, it's historically accurate that people were colonizing asshats right then, but it wasn't historically accurate that they had good teeth and good body odor and married for love, so I REALLY give absolutely no craps.  It's 2021.  I don't want to read about people actively colonizing others without a thought in their mind to it and getting happy endings.  2.  To add to this, it's made clear, several times over, that Finlay is making his money in sugar.  That is, Finlay is making his money in slave labor.  And I think we're supposed to find it attractive that he's actually in business and not caring that he has a title and all, which, okay.  But also, no, because his business is owning slaves.  So, automatically, both of these people are people who are committing significantly racist acts.  3.  Remember when I said Charlotte was Jewish?  Yeah, um.  That seems to more of a "this makes Charlotte MORE undesirable" than any real attempt to have a Jewish character.  I'm NOT suggesting the author is anti-Semitic, I'm legit not.  But Charlotte only seems to be Jewish in ways that are useful for the plot.

Examples:

a.  Charlotte was orphaned at a young age.  She's from an area that had a pretty significant Jewish community (she's from the country, but contrary to popular belief, Jews existed in both rural and urban areas).  If you look at the historical records, the specific area she mentions being from had a major synagogue.  And yet, for reasons that are unclear, she's barely taken in by family, and nobody in the community seems to care about her/help her.  That's...odd.  

b.  At a certain point in the book, she mentions going to shul regularly, but it's clear she has no community.  Not a single Jewish friend.  Again, super odd.  Like, INCREDIBLY.  It's hard to explain to non-Jews how odd that would be even today, but particularly in that day and age.

c. Her religion never seems to threaten her job or other things that, yeah, it would have.  Jewish emancipation (e.g., making Jews citizens in the eyes of the law, etc.,) doesn't really happen in most of Western Europe until the mid-1800s and it's not SUPER popular at the time it does.

d. BUT her religion is used as a sort of bludgeon by her nasty ex-in-laws, who, quite frankly, could have been just as nasty to her on the basis of class.  The British are pretty into class, as a general rule.  They didn't really need the extra thing to be crappy about when it didn't add anything.

I have this whole thing about how because most of Western society basically sees and has seen for much of this era two types of Jews, those who are secular, and those who are haredi, and therefore completely cut off from everyone else, that there's this concept that being Jewish and living in society is really just the absence of being Christian/the lack of apparent religion.  This is a completely incorrect way of understanding modern Judaism, let alone Judaism in the mid-to-late nineteenth century.  But other than an epilogue that pays some VERY weird lip service to Charlotte's Judaism given that she has technically converted at that point to further her husband's political career and be legally allowed to marry him, Charlotte's Judaism is more of a prop in this book, than a legitimate element of her identity, culture, and personhood, and as a Jewish histrom reader, with VERY few choices in terms of Jewish main characters, that was deeply disappointing.
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I fell down a work/high holy days hole there.  But I have mostly crawled out.

As a preface to what I am about to talk about, let me state, categorically, that I believe that #OwnVoices literature is important and will always be important, even in a world where humanity could manage to stop being raging cocksnots toward each other.  And that is notably not the world we live in.  Nothing that goes after this is to suggest otherwise.  Rather, it is to suggest that (1) for diversity to exist, #OwnVoices cannot be the only people writing stories about non-privileged communities, (2) that there are ways for people who are not part of a community to responsibly write characters from it, and (3) the greater the proliferation of #OwnVoices and outsider texts there are, the greater our ability to determine what might be problematic elements in a text, and not take them as gospel truth.

At the beginning of this week, one of the romance newsletters I subscribe to linked this discussion of romances with Indian leads written by Indian-American or Indian-Canadian women .  While this summary does not do the article credit, the author argues that all of these books are written on the theme of proximity to whiteness--with whiteness being a desirable thing--and, as such, are written for white audiences.  I will discuss in a moment why I do not agree with that thesis, but I nonetheless recognize it as a valid frustration.

Today, entirely by coincidence, I read this Modern Love column in the NYT, in which a Pakistani-born, American-raised woman talks about learning from Bend It Like Beckham that white men were romantically desirable as brown men could not be, and how, when she finally fell in love with a Pakistani man, there were a million ways they understood each other that she had never managed with white men.

To explain my beliefs on this issue, it is necessary that I give a broad overview of American anti-Semitism historically and currently, and living as someone who practices Judaism as an element of her daily life. 

I am 97% Ashkenazi.  My father's family left Russia to escape the progroms, my mother's grandmother made it out of Germany in time to survive.  The rest of her family did not.  I am, in the eyes of today's world, white.

Anti-Semitism is hard to explain to anyone who hasn't experienced it, and yes, that includes people who have experienced other kinds of "isms."  For one thing, it comes in different forms from the right and from the left.  For another thing, it no longer looks the way most other isms do.

Let me be clear: this change to being more subtle is a fairly new thing.  And it is something that has been accomplished only by the majority of American Jewry's willingness to assimilate.  That is: it has been gained by our willingness to give up the things that make us Not White.

(Side note: when I presume whiteness of Jews in color, I am referring very specifically to genetic Ashkenazis.  Sephardis and Jews by Choice are often not Caucasian, and so there are a completely different set of circumstances.  That is outside the scope of what I am discussing here.)

Brandeis is the Jewish version of the HBCU.  It was created because Jews weren't allowed into the Ivys, among other institutes of higher education.  I grew up going to a Jewish country club--founded because Jews weren't accepted into the others.  In fact, it was not until the mid-1990s that Kansas City Country Club accepted someone Jewish, and they did it only when forced.  That Jewish person was Henry Block, of H & R Block.  They had turned him down, but the golf pro who played there, Tom Watson, was nationally known, and he had married a Jewish woman and had children with her.  He threatened to leave the club if they did not accept Block.  They did so, grudgingly.

The racial covenants for housing that were struck down in '48 but remain on the books until this day?  Jews were included in those covenants in many places, my hometown being one of them.

Many Americans, knowing very well what was happening in Germany in WWII, wanted to side with the Germans.  After WWII, unlike the Russians, who prosecuted Nazi scientists, America pardoned them and gave them a home.  Meanwhile, it was highly reluctant to accept the Jews streaming out of Europe, desperate for somewhere to go.

This kind of anti-Semitism fades as religious Judaism fades outside of haredi pockets like Williamsburg.  It no longer looks systemic and easy to point to, except for the incidences every few years where someone shoots up a Jewish dayschool, pre-school, Jewish Community Center, etc.

I was almost eighteen when I figured out that (white) churches didn't hire security for every service, the way synagogues did.  All religious buildings are inherently dangerous, right?  I was a full-grown adult when I learned that not everybody has a passport that they keep updated religiously (pun intended) which they've had since birth just in case they need to flee the country.  

Every single year that I was in school, every single one of them, there was one teacher who would be an absolute dickmunch about me taking two days for Rosh Hashanah and one for Yom Kippur.  Without fail.  Employers were often worse.  This year, I put in for a religious accommodation at my work and was told that I didn't need one, but I could take a disability accommodation instead if I got a doctor's note.  Thankfully, my therapist is Jewish.  I cannot even begin to tell you how many major work trainings and life events get scheduled on major Jewish holidays.  AwesomeCon in DC was impossible for me to make for years because it was always on Passover, which is not an easy holiday to work around.  The amount of resistance I have encountered around certain requests for essentially vegetarian meals to make sure I wasn't getting something egregiously unkosher has been unreal at times.  Also, people treat keeping Kosher like you're a high maintenance picky eater.  (True story: I can find something to eat ALMOST anywhere.  Except soul food restaurants.)  

A lot of anti-Semitism is being treated on a semi-constant basis, like you're a problem.  And if you would just stop being a problem, everything would be fine.

There are also the elements of just not being welcome in certain spaces, like my complete discomfort with lesbian spaces since they've started disallowing Jewish star flags in parades.  That's a sign of my religion.  You have told me, a lesbian, I'm not welcome in this lesbian space.  

My point to all this is that while I might not be able to speak to the experience of proximity to whiteness, I can certainly speak to the experience of proximity to Christianity/secular Protestantism, and if you think the two are all that different in the U.S., I would truly advise you (a) to consider whether you would think that if this were a Muslim talking, and (b) to think about the fact that the closest thing there's been to a non-Christian president in the U.S. was a Catholic.  And that was quite the uproar at the time.  (I see Catholics as Christian, but within the U.S. there is no question in my mind that theirs is an existence of proximity to Protestantism.)

When Jews are in the media, which is exceedingly rare, it is always and forever about their proximity to Christianity.  Jews in media (1) are so assimilated that the only thing that signals their Judaism is either their name or something far more offensive such as a high level of neuroticism mixed with dark hair and a longer nose, (2) relate to their Judaism only through Hanukah which any practicing Jew will tell you is one of the least important holidays of the year and only well-known because, yup, of its proximity to Christmas, or (3) both.  I saw one representation of Judaism in the media that I was like "okay, this could be something," and that was when Kate Kane was brought to the screen.  It wasn't amazing.  But there were elements of Kate's Judaism woven in slightly, beyond "I don't celebrate Christmas" aka, Judaism as the ABSENCE of Christianity.  Then Ruby Rose left, and they kept Batwoman's lesbianism and jettisoned her Judaism.

In romance, Judaism is even more rare.  And if there exists a romance novel where both hero and heroine are Jewish, I'm unaware of it.  (That doesn't mean it doesn't exist.  But at the same time, I have looked.)  The closest, I would say, is Felicia Grossman's second, Dalliances & Devotion, where the heroine is the child of a mixed marriage but identifies as Jewish, and the hero is Jewish.  Grossman's first, Appetites & Vices is an intensely smart commentary on the safety acquired by moving toward the Christian norm (and the dangers in trying to get there).

Here's the thing, though, and this is why, in the end, I disagree with the assertion that because a story is about proximity to the dominant culture, it's written for the dominant culture: for a lot of Jews, this is their story.  It's not mine.  My Judaism runs on a calendar wholly apart from the Roman one, it involves a community that is nothing short of family, and it knows exactly what the Pakistani author is talking about when she discusses how she fits with another Pakistani more than she ever managed with someone white.  I tried dating Christians.  Unlike the author of the article, for me it was "this is what there is" rather than "this is what I prefer", but I tried.  And no matter how secular they were, Christianity was always a thing between us, largely because Americans often think things that are Christian are secular.  

While a story that aligns to Christianity being a default might be more comfortable for a Christian/secular American reader, that doesn't make it for that reader, in the same way that because white readers might find stories of racial assimilation more understandable, it doesn't make those stories for white people.  I feel like it's harsh to say that because someone desires assimilation/acculturation, their experience isn't legitimate and they don't deserve to see themselves in fiction.  The issues underlying that desire are certainly a problem, and one that we, as a society, should be working on, but I don't think delegitimizing the experience of living in a problematic society is a fair  or even productive way of going about that.

So, just because the Jewish stories I see around me aren't my Jewish story doesn't mean they shouldn't get told.  What it means is that someone like me, or someone who's not Jewish, but is interested in writing about someone like me, needs to write more stories.  Now, is it risky for someone who's not Jewish to write about my kind of Judaism?  Boy howdy.  Jews are insular for a million reasons, we're a hard nut to crack.  A good way to crack it, though, to crack that problem with any community, is to find sensitivity readers.  And not just for the sake of using their brains.  For the sake of listening to them as humans who have lived whatever it is you're writing.

And sure, if we could say "only #OwnVoices get to represent" and that meant that tomorrow there were--for simplicity's sake, leaving out religious, sexual orientation, and gender identity disparities, among others--20% Latinx creators, 20% Black, 20% Arab, 20% Asian, and 20% white, that would be a pretty sweet world.  In the meantime, as the author of the critique notes, eight percent of romance writers are non-white.  So if only #OwnVoices write non-white characters, only eight percent of romance novels get to have them.  And within those eight percent, as discussed above, only certain types of minority experiences get told.  Frankly, that's a shitty solution.

To be clear, like all problems with representation, I don't think there's a good or right answer here.  The only thing I can say with any certainty is that I don't believe limiting representation works nearly so well as pressing for an increase in the sheer volume of it, even when that road has foreseeable pitfalls.
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TW/CW: rape, racism, homophobic tropes.

For those of you who have been following the news, you may have seen that the term "white, Jewish woman from Kansas City" is not a good look at the moment.  And as someone who's pretty grossed out by the term #notallmen, I feel like the only way to engage with that dialogue is to essentially not do so, and just keep trying to be a person who works on herself to be anti-racist and a worthwhile addition to the human race, but jeez.  

Given this, romance had ONE JOB this weekend and let me tell you: it has failed.

It began when the whispers started circulating that there were serious problems with Dunmore's sophomore effort.  Reviewer Aarya's review on Goodreads is a truly fantastic breakdown of the lack of awareness around cultural appropriation/recognition of the harms of colonization in the book, and it turns out there's a Gay Villain.  Both of which should have been caught on a first read through, let alone before it made it out the door and on to shelves. 

Now, let me pause for a moment to say that as a queer person who knows other queer people, we come in all flavors, from awesomeblossom to douchecraft carrier.  It's not that I deny that gay people can be bad people.  It's that there's a long, unfortunate history of queer or queer-coded villains being the only queer representation in media.  And since it's unlikely that in a Victorian-era romance you're going to have a groundswell of LGBTQIA+ characters who make it clear that, oh, queer people are just people, I feel that perhaps a bit of caution in enacting that choice is due.  Given that I was super excited about that book, maybe more than I'd been for any in a long time, that news sucked a lot.

Perhaps I would have recovered by this morning, had I not been finishing Quinn's book last night.  Sadly, I was.

I want to try and be fair here.  I've never read Quinn before, which is interesting, given that she was actively writing in the nineties and is almost exclusively historical, and that's my bag.  I picked up this one specifically because Shonda Rhimes has optioned it through Netflix, and that idea excited the hell out of me.  Nobody has ever attempted to adapt what I would consider to be a true genre historical romance.  Even just the deal itself was a sign of a watershed moment in recognizing that women have money and buying power as a fan block.

I knew the Bridgerton series was a thing, and I hadn't been avoiding it, but it had always just struck me as more lighthearted than my usual preferences.  I want suffering and heartbreak and pining and possibly a torture scene or two before I get my HEA.  What's a little light torture between friends, I ask?

In any case, now was the moment.  In retrospect, I should have thought "self, this was written in 1999.  It was the wild west back then.  Johanna Lindsey (may she be living it up in the ever after) was still putting dubiously consensual spanking scenes in nearly all of her novels.  Gird your loins appropriately."  I was tricked, though, by the fact that it had been optioned for a 2020-and-beyond audience and had a new cover.  Lulled into complacency.

Quinn is a good writer, and her framing device of having a gossip sheet by an unknown author deliver most of the exposition is enjoyable.  As characters go, I feel like both Daphne and Simon are insubstantial, at best.  Daphne's the girl who is always thought of as a friend, possibly because being the fourth of eight children, and the first girl, she has somewhat grown up being one of the boys, although that element of her character is not really developed.  The only element of her character that is developed, so far as I can tell, is that she's kind.  And, uh, aside from being a fairly amorphous trait, that makes what truly bothers me about this book even worse.

Simon had potential.  He's the only child of a duke, his mother dies in childbirth and the duke, who's a waste of space, tells everyone his son is dead when he discovers Simon has a stutter.  But basically Simon just figures out how to control his stutter and fucks off to travel around the world after school for six years.  It's not even clear what he's doing.  I mean, probably for the best, given that he's going to countries where he was likely exploiting the locals for profit in some manner, but it's just as if they're both outlines of characters that were supposed to get filled in at some point but never did.

Simon was good friends with Daphne's eldest brother, Anthony, at school and there's a lot of deeply paternalistic stuff happening on Anthony's side  (as well as Benedict's and Colin's, her other two older brothers) throughout the book.  Their father being dead, Anthony is the head of the family, so there's some logic to it.  At the same time, it goes well beyond "my sister's too good for anybody" to "we're all basically raving psychos who want our sister to live out her days in a convent conceiving in the immaculate fashion."

The plot as it were, is a bit of a hot mess, but to sum up: Daphne and Simon pretend date, they get caught kissing by Anthony, who challenges Simon to a duel.  Simon lives on a combination of rage at his dead father and world-weary resignation, so instead of ask the woman he rather likes and could see himself being happy with to marry him, he accepts.  Daphne, knowing Simon is going to delope and Anthony is going to kill a duke over her, which, messy, basically lies to Simon, telling him others had seen them, and she will be ruined if he doesn't marry her.  Simon tells her that he cannot give her children, and she makes the decision to marry him despite this.

They get married, sex it up a lot, Simon's all in on the withdrawal method, and nobody has ever told Daphne anything about how things work, so she doesn't realize for a while that it's not that he's physically incapable of having children, as she believed, it's that he has chosen not to.  When she figures that out, she accuses him of lying to her over the difference of "cannot give you children" and "will not give you children."  And, okay, I suppose there's an argument there, except, not really, because he conveyed the pertinent sentiment, which was that he was unwilling to have children with her.  She refuses him her body because she's mad.  Seems reasonable, it's her body, they're fighting, she doesn't want to sleep with him.  Cool.

Simon goes out and gets drunk.  Also the right of a fully grown human.  He comes back to the house about fourteen sheets to the wind and asks her to stay with him while he sleeps.  She agrees.  She's sitting beside him, when he begins to have an erotic dream.  And without any hesitation, she thinks "he's asleep, probably kinda still drunk, if I get atop him right now and bring him to completion, he'll have no way to withdraw."  And then goes right through with that.

Yes, she rapes her husband.  Quinn later tries to create some gray space around this, but it's too little too late.  Simon, understandably, wigs the everloving fuck out, and leaves for one of his other estates telling her that if she conceives, she should ask his steward for his direction.

Now, what follows is all my reaction and nowhere in the text, because the text barely seems to even recognize that what Daphne has done is not okay.  There's some sense of "oh, I shouldn't have gone against his wishes" but otherwise, Daphne is portrayed as the victim, Simon as the cold brute of a spouse, leaving her so shortly after their marriage.  When he comes back he says that "he isn't happy with what she did," but that it was really his words locking up in his mouth and that sense of being a child again and being unable to speak that sent him fleeing.

Um.  I'm not sure how anyone can disconnect the fact that he was just RAPED from his reaction/inability to speak in that moment.  There's a clear a to b causality happening.  Particularly in that era, where husband-on-wife marital rape wasn't recognized because a husband quite literally owned his wife, Simon, even if he could speak, would have no words for what had happened, and nobody to speak them to.  His closest friend is her brother, who is threatening to beat him up over leaving her.  

It's hard for me to even remember what happens after that, because my brain was in a non-stop rotation of "whatthefuckwhatthefuck."  Even in the seventies and eighties, most romance novels recognized outright rape for what it was.  Was there a whole bunch of ravishment-fantasy-she-liked-it-so-it-was-okay stuff that needed to be unpacked like a moving truck?  Yes.  Were there husbands raping wives that were later redeemed from something that's not necessarily redeemable?  Looking at you, Catherine Coulter and Judith McNaught.  But I don't know that I've ever seen a dismissal of someone's consent so complete be essentially glossed over almost to the point of ignoring it.

I'm not an assault survivor, I have no sexual trauma caused by anything other than society's expectations of me, and this book made me want to vomit.  I'm still blinking in shock that a) this is considered one of the classics of the genre without serious and ongoing conversation about how not okay Daphne's actions and the books treatment of them are, and b) this is what is being optioned as the first historical romance adaptation to hit screens.  Really??  REALLY??

I'm going to go to my safe place and read a Tessa Dare.  I need to know nothing horrible is going to happen for the space of one novel.

Because writing this kind of sucked donkey balls, I leave you with something wonderful:

Jennifer Holliday, Broadway Legend, pwning I Am What I Am

Keala Settle, up-and-coming Broadway Legend, making To Dream the Impossible Dream hers

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