Fall ‘22 DNFs
Photo by Klim Musalimov on Unsplash
I read some, I skimmed some. I thought, “Dear Book, it’s not you, it’s me.” I put them down, side-eyed ‘em and finally gave up. Then I found the one, the story I need right now. You can read about that here.
I’ll come clean that when I can’t find the feels or the fun I dip into the juggernaut that is Goodreads reviews. I know, I know, I should have my own thoughts and opinions. And I do! I’m just looking for validation. But also—true story—I’m looking for other readers to convince me why I should stick with a book I’m not loving. And sometimes they do!
This also means sometimes my reviews are influenced by the big old “virtual book conversation” we’re all having online. Reviews are part of the dialogue between authors and the consumers of their work, and reader-to-reader, of course. That said, my reviews might echo something that’s already been said, but also because I agree with said review(s). I try to be original but I suppose we’re all derivative in the end. And so, without further ado, let’s dip into my most recent “did not finish” pile.
Rafe, you buff male nanny, you, waiting there after work with your rippling muscles. And tattoos. And sparkling clean kitchen! And dinner in the oven. A feast for all the senses! Well, some of them…(Paid Link)
There was a lot in this book. The part I focused on was the sexy, chore-doing beefcake who fills the car with gas, does the laundry, chefs it up like a pro, promptly gets the kids to bed and gets off his woman off after that. More than once, too. Not a bad life, right?
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much of a story to go with all those tasty, domestic live side dishes. By the time I stopped reading (I think I made it about half way), it wasn’t clear what Rafe wanted besides his woman and this insta-family.
Guys with no ambition? No can do! I need to have stakes right up front. (Rafe can probably cook a mean steak, however.) Meanwhile our lovely heroine, the young, driven, medical prodigy Dr. Copeland, sounded like a total smoke show. She was oddly naive when it came to men and sex and dating, so that equation didn’t compute for me.
The story read like a series of connected scenes, mostly stuffed with “way too much kid stuff.” As in, kids going to school, kids doing bath time or eating dinner, kids sorting out their social troubles, and so on. Most of those moments didn’t move the plot and it reminded me of my own life, but mine is way less shiny, lacks a swimming pool, and the plot of which isn’t always discernibly moving forward. (But I do have this blog!) Also subtract the part where I’m a hot-as-hell surgeon.
There wasn’t any drama, except, “Will our lady doctor get one orgasm or three?” or “Will we tell the kids I’m sleeping with my live-in employee?” Since there was no HR for Rafe to call, I suppose that point was moot. But if parents should be role modeling for the kids…oh never mind. Their dad was crazy so I suppose that bit was already shot. Crazy was their new normal and their biker-nanny was about to become their other dad. It’s fine.
Why did I try this book? Goop told me to do it, and if there’s anyone I trust, it’s Gwyneth Paltrow. It’s surprising to me that this title made her curated list, surely cobbled together by her dutiful, attentive minions. I guess you can’t yuck someone’s yum, and that’s forever true on weird and wonderful Planet Romance.
If this is true for you: helpful partner + lots of juicy sex = homemaker erotica, then get reading! In the Amazon book description, it does say, “This stand-alone romance is fluffy. So fluffy. It’s fluff. Low. Angst. Fluff.” In my *vast* experience, it’s become clear that the phrase “low angst” is code for not much story arc—if any! So now we all know.
(Paid Link)
This is a young adult novel, and my first go with this author. There was so much to love about Solomon’s writing and this story, which includes a forced-proximity premise—they both work in the wedding business!—there’s a friends-to-lovers angle, both parties in the couple are grappling personal obstacles (mental health issues being one of them), as well as family expectations.
The soil was fertile and the wedding cake was moist, but it didn’t hold my attention. Which isn’t saying much…because right now I have the concentration of a gnat. Probably less. So maybe it’s me? (Or maybe it’s pandemic malaise. Which is real, yo.)
Anyhoo, I think I narrowed down my gripes to these:
The characters were too young for me, falling in the mostly extinct “new adult” category. This is fine for many but doesn’t fit my current reading mood.
Early on, Quinn’s approach to getting physical with some rando dude at a party was off-putting. I mean, it was kind of real-lifey, and there’s a way that she’s not precious about sex that could be a good thing, but it repelled me instead of endearing me to her. The devil’s in the details there.
Quinn’s repression of her own hopes and dreams felt claustrophobic. Instead of creating tension it made me angry. Why didn’t she speak up? Why was her family so out of touch with her? Why did she allow for that disconnect? Why was she hiding her interest in the harp? I know, roles, habits, history, closets full of family baggage, etc. But still.
Quinn’s harp stuff wasn’t working for me. I’m not even sure why…I was classically trained on the piano and spent a lot of hours playing beautiful, old-ass music. You’d think I could appreciate it, but…nah.
The pacing meandered a bit and didn’t propel me through this story.
Quinn’s sister and that relationship/storyline bothered me. It felt like a distraction to the main plot and added to the equation of Quinn not being seen, which I suppose is where this novel was headed—Quinn’s finding agency and finally being seen—but I will not be there at the end to find out.
I skimmed a lot and made it up to about 63%. When I lost interest in all outcomes I let it go. This wasn’t for me, but it might be for you.
(Paid Link)
Some Karla Sorensen romances I have loved, like Focused (paid link), which made me cry multiple times, but others have not had that special spark. This one was too small-town perfect (read, hokey). I was bored. There’s a lot of “telling” in this story and I always prefer much more showing. Don’t we all? (Wink, wink.)
This one’s a second chance romance, and the reason for the couple’s big split was held out there in the story past yonder hill for so long I stopped caring about the source of all the pain.
Right before they have sex for the first time in this book, Hunter says “good girl,” to Iris, which is a pet peeve of mine. I have heard this is called “praise kink” but it doesn’t matter what book it crops up in, it doesn’t work for me. It’s like, with those two words, the woman is distilled down to something less than what she is—something younger, someone more naive, and most importantly, is not seen as the adult woman in the presence of her lover.
As if patriarchy doesn’t take down women enough! And no, I don’t care if they knew each other when they were kids. But, I suppose one could make the argument that on Planet Romance, being seen as younger and even naive is a kink. In theory I should respect that—I’m trying to at least minimally understand the variety of kinks as I read these books—but if it seems demeaning I can’t do it, and “good girl” always comes across that way.
Hunter, the hero, tutors Iris’s younger brother, who’s under her care, and also other things happen: Iris starts her small business, Hunter mows the lawn, old people dish out their time-won crumbs of knowledge, and the couple eats blueberry muffins in public after their bang fest. It’s all very sweet with the shadows of dysfunctional people-of-the-past and the great, ancient pain waiting in wings to make dramatic appearances—or not. I’m not sure if any of those things ever show up, as I’ve already left the theater. (DNF at 60-ish%)
(Paid Link)
Unlawful Contact was one of those books I couldn’t even give two shakes of a lamb’s tail. That’s not how that metaphor works, you say? Fine. You are right. I will say I’d rather watch a lamb shake its tail than read this book, so I did not even make it to 10%.
When we meet some of Sophie the heroine’s friends, it reminded me of a watered down Charlie’s Angels scene. Nothing was working for me here: the writing, characterization, or plot. I’m not much of a consumer of romantic suspense, mystery or crime thrillers, so maybe don’t depend on me for any guidance there, but you know, try new things, right? But seriously. Hang up the phone on me. I won’t be offended.
I did laugh out loud when we first meet Marc Hunter, who is busy doing furious push ups. His first chapter starts like this,
“One hundred twenty-one. One hundred twenty-two. One hundred-twenty-three.”
ROFL. I’m not dying, you’re dying! Want to know how many push-ups Marc Hunter can do? Read for yourself to find out. Sexy cover though, right?
Cute cover? Check! Amazing title? Check! But then I started reading... (Paid Link)
Seriously, friends, I had stars in my eyes over the possibilities of this one, but oof. The problems stacked up rather quickly, however, so I was decisive with my DNF. At least there’s that.
The book hinges on the heroine’s pivot from her existence as a yes-woman to Liv’s use of her NO widely and liberally. And pretty out-of-the-blue. Liv’s shift in character is jarring, and there’s not enough behind her sudden change to make it believable. Also there are some weird character quirks that make her slightly alien, including a weird scene where she makes milkshakes for two with half a bottle of Bailey’s. Has she ever seen hard alcohol before or does she kind of want her stomach pumped?
Liv has this friend group that dates back to college, and early on, one member of her friend gang—the hot, single, man-friend she secretly wants, of course—suggests she doesn’t speak her mind enough. This idea burrows under her skin, leading to her sudden departure from work and joining her BFF crew in South Africa on their vacation.
The friend group never does it for me, and they’re too much to track. It seems like Liv has hidden herself from them, which makes me wonder why she’s stayed in touch with them all these years. And, if they’re busy planning expensive vacations she' can’t ever attend, how good of friends are they? They also make a pact to not date each other, because, after ten years…that’s a solid idea.
The South Africa part offers some mental vacation “candy” but it added more details to track. The constantly changing scenery and the awesome nature just seemed extra and did not contribute to the main plot threads.
Like I do, I skimmed up to the first mini love scene, and there I realized I didn’t care for Liv enough to root for her. Instead I kind of wanted her to start over and find a new group of buds.
