Castle guilt
I feel guilty.
It's not because I'm sitting out in the open, within full view of technology professionals, eating a funfetti muffin. (Let's be honest, funfetti muffins are perverse. It's a freaking whole grain cupcake without frosting. They aren't fun. They're sad. And I can't believe I fell for this bullshit!) It's not because I'm typing this post on the clock. I have tons of serious architect things to do today, and my email is read, and this tech behemoth won't go out of business because I write for 20 minutes during the best part of the day. So pbbbblllllttttt {sticks out tongue}. It's not because I know that children are being separated from their parents at the border and I'm sitting atop my tower of white privilege complaining about a freaking funfetti muffin. (Although I know I should be spending this time writing angry letters to a congressperson and sending money to aid groups.) I feel guilty because I told Sarah and Cynthia that I would devote myself to the latest installment of the Carval series, Legendary, this week and I haven't.
Heavens forgive me. I'm confessing here, out on the open internets, that I've been reading Tessa Dare's "Castles Ever After" series instead.
Even I cringe at that name. It's TERRIBLE. And the book names are even worse. Romancing the Duke. When a Scot Ties the Knot. Look at this cover.
{pukes in mouth}
Ugh!!!!! But I can't help it... The Amazon algorithms know me! These books are about spinsters. Women so old that they're on the shelf. They're like 26 and junk. Ancient, misunderstood, book-loving, talented, unexpectedly sassy spinsters... and they keep appearing in my feed.
<sigh>
The good news is, so far they don't suck. They're predictable, but that's fine. I need that right now. The men all have a stray lock of dark hair that falls over their eye and begs to be pushed aside by a milky-white feminine hand. They're made from chiseled marble, despite probably being malnourished during extended campaigns on the continent and/or hiding away from the cruel world in a rotted out castle. Predictably, they're unbearably tall and enjoy brooding and looming over things. This can get old pretty fast, but the author doesn't overdo it too bad.
Paired with bacon and chard-yay, it's a solid Thursday night.
I should have coated these in maple syrup
After reading half the series, I think it's safe to say that I can expect more wounded warriors over sappy aristocratic or scholarly sops in the remaining books. On the annoying martyr scale, Dare's heroes fall well within the range of acceptability for sympathetic-but-not-too-depressing backstory and, frankly, they do better than most handling the "I can't be with you for irrational reason XYZ that I can't tell you about, but I assure you is quite serious and makes me unlovable" part of the regency romance story formula.
The witty banter could be better, but not all heroes can be sharp-tongued and fast like a Kaz Brekker or Will Herondale. With the wounded hero trope, I accept I'm never going to be fully satisfied in this department. Only the broken aristocrat or unexpected inheritance tropes will get me there in this genre.
Did I mention that they all have castles? Because that's a theme for a series if I've heard one. But why not? I mean, I read far more outlandish stuff in science fiction and fantasy genres. And, admittedly, it's kind of genius. Dead, eccentric, entirely absent fairy godfather gives all of his spinster god-daughters (because apparently all of his god-daughters are spinsters) their very own run-down castles in a time when women generally don't own property. Surely an attractive and unlovable man will tromp in there (or in the case of one novel, the woman will tromp in) and try to be all domineering and... well, probably just domineering. And stupid. There's plenty of stupid sprinkled in there. (Albeit, this judgment is clearly shaped by my bad ass modern working mom sensibilities and not a deficient understanding of gender politics during the regency.) Shit gets stirred up. Love/hate things happen. Eventually everyone accepts the eccentric girl is right. And Bob’s your uncle.
Girl with seemingly technical or unfeminine talent + inheriting a castle + irrationally masculine manly men who know best = slam dunk conflict.
As an aside, my unofficial romance novel support group (which is really just the Smart Bitches Trashy Books website) paired Tessa Dare's books with candles. There's a candle called Castle Library and I must have it.
In my opinion, the best romances are about the female lead. I don't do simpering princesses. I don't do glorified rap-ey pirates and I'm the opposite of interested in anything involving lairs or leather. I'm in it for the banter and the smart, sassy heroine who gets what she wants. And the dresses. And the manners. And hearing someone call someone by their first name when they really shouldn't be taking liberties like that. And for occasional sex in libraries. But mostly for the smart, sassy heroines.
I somehow managed to download book one and three, which boggles my mind. But since this series is strung together by a common theme rather than a singular story arc, it's tolerable. It's not tragedy the way it'd be if I had read book three of Lunar Chronicles (Cress) before book two (Scarlett). I'm still gonna download book two this weekend and then maybe I’ll write my congressperson.
