I know I shouldn't make too much fun of romance writers. Suffice it to say that I really like Joanna Lindsey, usually, when she writes historicals. They're hot! When she tries to write SF, however, she's so stuck in the early 1960's:
He looked at the android with impotent fury, though his words were addressed to Shanelle. "You should have said he was your companion. Caris said your mother owned him, so I assumed you wouldn't be sharing sex with him, but--"I know, I haven't written anything substantial for a while, but maybe it's just that between this stuff and John Updike, the whiplash is so bad I don't know where to start.
Shanelle's soft laughter cut him off. It was melodious and infectious, the kind of laugh that forced a smile even from strangers who merely heard it in passing. It had the ability to take the edge off his own jealous anger, particularly since it was genuine humor he was hearing, not anything ridiculing or sarcastic.
"I'm sorry, Jadd," she said after a moment, "but if you knew my father, you wouldn't have jumped to such a conclusion. Tell him, Corth."
Without expression, the android replied, "The Challen Ly-San-Ter would not allow me near his daughter until the Martha agreed to reprogram my abilities. I am no longer capable of sex-sharing."
"Oh, that's real tough, Corth." Jadd grinned with immense relief.
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Date: 2006-07-07 04:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-07 04:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-07 04:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-07 07:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-07 02:33 pm (UTC)So, they've always been there. You just had to know where to look. Though, as is similar today, the language (but not the scenes themselves!) is more explicit in contemporary romance than it is in historical.
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Date: 2006-07-07 03:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-07 04:07 pm (UTC)The best part about these popcorn series is their identifiability. You can walk into any used romance store and instantly find what you want: the spines are color coded (black for kink, red for sex, light red for euphemistic sex, pink and purple for suggestive scenes that end before the action becomes embarassing, and blue for no sex "just superromance.") with letter codes indicating just how much sex, etc, and icons for the kind of plot you're getting: handcuffs indicate the hero is a policeman, a clock indicates a whirlwind courting, a pistol for a private eye, a stork indicates a baby by the end of the book while a carriage indicates the protagonist is an unwed mother, etc. etc. Just by looking at the spine you can find exactly the kind of story you want. It is as shamelessly targetted at its female audience as some pornographer's "Two hot bi babes do it all for you!" would be to its male audience.
That's for the thin books. For the thicker historicals there's a solid rule of thumb: the more skin on the cover, the more sex between. Small's The Innocent breaks this, of course: the heroine is shown in profile, fully dressed in demure clothes, but inside the villainess is given the best sex scene as she takes on three (!) of her henchmen in one very explicit scene that wasn't nearly as touching as the heroine's next-chapter deflowering (which was Small's whole point, of course).
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Date: 2006-07-07 03:53 pm (UTC)