I collect vintage historical romances. They're so dated and I love how they are completely unlike anything published today. Yes, they are cheesy as hell and politically incorrect as all get-out, but that's part of their charm. I love charming classic regency novels; I love the dark, epic sagas contained in bodice rippers penned during the 70s and 80s; I love the sensationalist fictional biographies; I love the big-hair and fast-cars glitter-trash novels from the 80s and 90s.
Basically, I love romance novels.
I didn't used to, though. I used to look down on the women who read them, because I had always been told, either directly or through stereotypes in the media, that romance novels were for women of below-average intelligence, women who were too unattractive to get a man and therefore had to resort to ill-written fantasy, women who were, basically, like nothing I wanted to be.
Oh, I was wrong. So, so wrong.
The first romance novelist I ever read was Lisa Kleypas. I was recommended her by a friend I held in high esteem. A lot of my friends, who were definitely not stupid or pathetic -- as far from it as possible, actually -- were reading romance novels and I began to wonder if there was something to the genre after all. Kleypas's smart prose and sparkling wit won me over almost immediately.
From Kleypas, I moved on to Julia Quinn, Mary Stewart, Victoria Holt, and then, later, Courtney Milan. Now, I'll read almost everything once. I may not like all of what I read, and there are definitely some cringe-worthy romance novels that do the genre as a whole ill, but there are a lot of wonderful, amazing, deep romance novels that are just, well, romantic. With a capital 'R.'
A few months ago, I was shopping at a thrift store for my favorite kind of goodies and a man asked what I was looking for, and I said, "Vintage romance novels." He then proceeded to inform me that he had always thought romance novels were stupid, until he realized that some of the older ones were actually worth money to collectors. I gave him a tight smile and said, "Well, I enjoy reading them."
Creepy McJudgingyou couldn't take a hint, and proceeded to follow me around the store, bragging about some of his best finds. "I actually found a signed first edition of Gone with the Wind," he said, "I sold it for forty grand. Someone must have really messed up not to catch that, huh?"
I had stopped responding by that point, because he was starting to piss me off.
And the irony of my reaction was not lost on me. Because I used to think like that, too. A lot of people do.
Romance is a huge market. According to NPR, it's a 1.4 billion dollar industry. Other genres don't even come close in terms of netted profit. What makes it even more amazing is that romance is one of the few genres (apart from maybe YA -- although John Green has tipped the scales in that scene, and not necessarily for the better) that is dominated by women.
And yet, despite its popularity, and its ability to bring in money, the romance genre is almost constantly mocked, and so are the women who read in the genre. Does the fact that it's a genre geared almost entirely towards women have anything to do with this? I can't help but wonder if that's the case -- that a genre targeted towards women must automatically be inferior, both from an intellectual standpoint and from a standpoint of cultural significance.
Because, despite advancements made in the treatment of women, things still aren't
completely equal. Women are still shamed for pursuing sex. Women are
shamed for talking about sex. Women are shamed for showing interest in sex. And women are shamed for reading and writing romance novels.
Even when they're good.
Even when they consistently out-sell all other genres.
Why?
Well, that's the 1.4 billion dollar question, isn't it?
I, for one, will be happily, and unabashedly, reading my bodice-rippers in public -- not in a paper bag.
Further reading:
Romance Novels, The Last Great Bastion of Underground Writing (The Awl)
Beyond Bodice-Rippers: How Romance Novels Came to Embrace Feminism (The Atlantic)
Friday, October 10, 2014
Thursday, October 9, 2014
The '(f)Art' in Literary Fiction: What Smells in Here?
Every book reviewer has a different scale for rating the books that they have read, and really, a subjective star rating only scratches at the surface of the complicated interplay of reason and emotion that goes through the head of a reader while experiencing a book.
I do not rate based on literary merit. I have friends that do, and this is fine because that is their system and not mine, but I do not; instead, I rate solely based on entertainment. This is how books like Pet to the Tentacle Monsters! can get three stars, whereas literary wunderkind Dave Eggers' latest book, The Circle, can get one.
My personal philosophy is that there is no "higher plane" of judgement that makes literature exempt from the entertainment rubric that applies to trashy mass-market paperbacks. Books were written to be read. They were meant to be enjoyed (with the possible exception of Fifty Shades of Grey; I'm pretty sure they force prisoners in Guantanamo Bay to listen to a special audiobook edition narrated by Gilbert Gottfried and Bette Midler when they're trying to draw confessions).
I mean, really. When you think about it, should a book automatically be granted five stars just because it managed to stay in print for 200+ years? That's like giving a student an A just because they decided to come in to class.
And yet, it never fails to surprise me how many people believe this unspoken assumption that all classics should be rated with 4- or 5-star ratings, and how quick they are to judge you if you don't. I have one-starred my fair share of classic and modern literature, and received more than my fair share of criticisms because of it, and the arguments almost always open up in the same way each time (always from someone who has five-starred the book).
Let's briefly go over some of the distinguishing characteristics of literary fiction that make it stand out from its lesser brethren.
Someone--either The New York Times, a professor at Harvard, or Oprah--has deemed this book "literature," which is a weighted term that indicates that the book contains some other quality that surpasses mere entertainment. Usually, this means that it touches upon some relevant, controversial issue (AIDS, racism, sexism, the holocaust) or Areas of Interest in the news (i.e. Africa, the Balkans).
The book is usually written in a certain way: it gets funky with punctuation (Jose Saramago, Cormac McCarthy, I'm looking at you); it uses flowery, convoluted prose (Tea Obreht, Iris Murdoch, Charlotte Bronte); it does the literary equivalent of jumping up and down on a desk, waving your arms, and shouting, "I'm a fucking intellectual!" (I think we all know I'm talking about Dave Eggers. But just to be clear, I'm talking about Dave Eggers.)
This literary book isn't meant to be entertaining, it's meant to be art.
Sometimes, a work of literary fiction can be both. But usually, it is not. And if you down-rate a book that meets these qualifications just because you, personally, did not enjoy it, people get mad.
I have been thinking about this, and I have come to the conclusion that it's because literary fiction attracts a certain kind of individual who reads certain kinds of books because they believe that the books they read say something about who they are as a person (read: "I'm a fucking intellectual!").
I can't think of any other reason why people would get so consistently angry about what other people say of the classics, unless they had some sort of personal or emotional investment in the book. And I think that comes down to the crux of the issue. There is a dark side to the literary fiction community, rife with intellectual snobbery and inferiority complexes. Reading books too complex for the casual reader gives them a sense of satisfaction that is disrupted when they see someone writing a review about why the book is no longer culturally relevant from an entertainment perspective.
Because--*gasp*--what if that means that they were wrong?
The snob reader's opening argument is usually a quick soundbite that reads as if it's been cribbed from a college professor or a dog-earred copy of Cliffnotes. Didn't like Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas? Don't you know it's about "the death of the American Dream"?
The SR generally backs up their argument with an attack on the reader's intelligence.
"You clearly didn't read the book."
"Sorry this wasn't the beach read you expected."
"I've never seen such a willfully ignorant interpretation of a book."
(Watch out; the SR knows how to utilize thesaurus.com.)
Entering into these kinds of arguments is never a good idea, because they tend to be highly cyclic. I suspect this is because the SR often has no idea what the book they are defending is even really about, beyond what they were told it was about, and once they get tired of repeating the soundbite they will just resort to personal attacks, because "dumb slut" is a phrase that most everyone understands.
Ad hominems aside, I do think that part of the reason that literary fiction persists through the ages is because of what the books symbolize, rather than what the books are actually about, and how people apply that symbolism to their definition of themselves. For example, if a person claims that Charlotte Bronte is their favorite author, that suggests something about their character, their romantic inclinations, their worldview. Same goes with Hunter S. Thompson, Albert Camus, or Virginia Woolf. This is a necessary evil whenever something enters the pop cultural lexicon.
However, I do think that a book should also be able to stand on its own as a form of entertainment. If it doesn't, it will never receive a five-star rating from me. Two-star, tops. Clearly, some people are getting enjoyment out of these classics, and that is fine. But what works for one person doesn't necessarily work for all people, and I think shaming people for disliking a work of literary fiction (or any written work, for that matter) is wrong. Last time I checked, the definition of "art" wasn't: "you're a dumb fuck if you don't like this."
I do not rate based on literary merit. I have friends that do, and this is fine because that is their system and not mine, but I do not; instead, I rate solely based on entertainment. This is how books like Pet to the Tentacle Monsters! can get three stars, whereas literary wunderkind Dave Eggers' latest book, The Circle, can get one.
My personal philosophy is that there is no "higher plane" of judgement that makes literature exempt from the entertainment rubric that applies to trashy mass-market paperbacks. Books were written to be read. They were meant to be enjoyed (with the possible exception of Fifty Shades of Grey; I'm pretty sure they force prisoners in Guantanamo Bay to listen to a special audiobook edition narrated by Gilbert Gottfried and Bette Midler when they're trying to draw confessions).
I mean, really. When you think about it, should a book automatically be granted five stars just because it managed to stay in print for 200+ years? That's like giving a student an A just because they decided to come in to class.
And yet, it never fails to surprise me how many people believe this unspoken assumption that all classics should be rated with 4- or 5-star ratings, and how quick they are to judge you if you don't. I have one-starred my fair share of classic and modern literature, and received more than my fair share of criticisms because of it, and the arguments almost always open up in the same way each time (always from someone who has five-starred the book).
Let's briefly go over some of the distinguishing characteristics of literary fiction that make it stand out from its lesser brethren.
Someone--either The New York Times, a professor at Harvard, or Oprah--has deemed this book "literature," which is a weighted term that indicates that the book contains some other quality that surpasses mere entertainment. Usually, this means that it touches upon some relevant, controversial issue (AIDS, racism, sexism, the holocaust) or Areas of Interest in the news (i.e. Africa, the Balkans).
The book is usually written in a certain way: it gets funky with punctuation (Jose Saramago, Cormac McCarthy, I'm looking at you); it uses flowery, convoluted prose (Tea Obreht, Iris Murdoch, Charlotte Bronte); it does the literary equivalent of jumping up and down on a desk, waving your arms, and shouting, "I'm a fucking intellectual!" (I think we all know I'm talking about Dave Eggers. But just to be clear, I'm talking about Dave Eggers.)
This literary book isn't meant to be entertaining, it's meant to be art.
Sometimes, a work of literary fiction can be both. But usually, it is not. And if you down-rate a book that meets these qualifications just because you, personally, did not enjoy it, people get mad.
I have been thinking about this, and I have come to the conclusion that it's because literary fiction attracts a certain kind of individual who reads certain kinds of books because they believe that the books they read say something about who they are as a person (read: "I'm a fucking intellectual!").
I can't think of any other reason why people would get so consistently angry about what other people say of the classics, unless they had some sort of personal or emotional investment in the book. And I think that comes down to the crux of the issue. There is a dark side to the literary fiction community, rife with intellectual snobbery and inferiority complexes. Reading books too complex for the casual reader gives them a sense of satisfaction that is disrupted when they see someone writing a review about why the book is no longer culturally relevant from an entertainment perspective.
Because--*gasp*--what if that means that they were wrong?
The snob reader's opening argument is usually a quick soundbite that reads as if it's been cribbed from a college professor or a dog-earred copy of Cliffnotes. Didn't like Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas? Don't you know it's about "the death of the American Dream"?
The SR generally backs up their argument with an attack on the reader's intelligence.
"You clearly didn't read the book."
"Sorry this wasn't the beach read you expected."
"I've never seen such a willfully ignorant interpretation of a book."
(Watch out; the SR knows how to utilize thesaurus.com.)
Entering into these kinds of arguments is never a good idea, because they tend to be highly cyclic. I suspect this is because the SR often has no idea what the book they are defending is even really about, beyond what they were told it was about, and once they get tired of repeating the soundbite they will just resort to personal attacks, because "dumb slut" is a phrase that most everyone understands.
Ad hominems aside, I do think that part of the reason that literary fiction persists through the ages is because of what the books symbolize, rather than what the books are actually about, and how people apply that symbolism to their definition of themselves. For example, if a person claims that Charlotte Bronte is their favorite author, that suggests something about their character, their romantic inclinations, their worldview. Same goes with Hunter S. Thompson, Albert Camus, or Virginia Woolf. This is a necessary evil whenever something enters the pop cultural lexicon.
However, I do think that a book should also be able to stand on its own as a form of entertainment. If it doesn't, it will never receive a five-star rating from me. Two-star, tops. Clearly, some people are getting enjoyment out of these classics, and that is fine. But what works for one person doesn't necessarily work for all people, and I think shaming people for disliking a work of literary fiction (or any written work, for that matter) is wrong. Last time I checked, the definition of "art" wasn't: "you're a dumb fuck if you don't like this."
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
Guest Book
Have a comment? A suggestion? Leave it here. I've enabled anonymous comments (although you may have to fill out one of those annoying Captcha things. I'm sorry for that, but ever since I reviewed Asa Akira's memoir, I've started receiving 100x as many porn ads as before).
Note: Comments will be moderated.
Note: Comments will be moderated.
Why New Adult Is Getting Old
It is difficult to condemn an entire genre--obviously, there are exceptions to every rule--but man is it getting old seeing the same types of books topping the best seller charts over and over again.
If, for some reason, you've been living under a rock for the last two years and somehow missed the frenzied rush to cash in on the latest trend, "new adult" is essentially older YA that takes place in the 18-24 age bracket, typically during, pre- or post-college. And everyone is doing it.
In principle, new adult is a great idea. Before the sudden explosion in popularity, the 18-24 age bracket was sorely under-represented in popular fiction. Back in college, my roommates and I loved reading YA, but it was frustrating, being stuck with characters who were so much younger than we were, and who lived in what was, by and large, a world that even Disney wouldn't mind.
When I heard some of the summaries about popular new adult titles, I was excited. Finally, I could read about characters in my age bracket who explored real, edgy issues, like drug use, sexuality, living on one's own for the first time, going off to college for the first time, and so on. I read several of the most popular new adult titles to satisfy my curiosity, and then came to a very depressing realization: these books were not about my life--and they're not about the lives of anyone I know.
Most new adult books have been reduced to a simple formula:
Girl meets boy. Boy is trouble. Girl doesn't care. They both live happily ever after.
Worse, still: these books often include gratuitous slut-shaming (i.e. punishing a woman for being sexual, or actively pursuing sex), unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and domestic violence and rape masquerading as romance. It is not uncommon, for example, to have the male protagonist beat up men (and sometimes women) while the female character looks on. Usually, the male protagonist coerces the (usually virgin) heroine into a sexual relationship, during which they typically do not use a condom. At the end of the book, the heroine often finds out she's pregnant, and it ends with a wedding. They are racist, homophobic, and in general propagate a close-minded attitude that I'd really hate to see go mainstream because it is so hateful, and willfully ignorant.
If the book does take place in a college setting, it has been my experience that these colleges often resemble rich high schools. There are cliques, everyone seems to know everyone, and nobody seems to spend any actual time in class pursuing higher knowledge. The heroine frequently ends up dropping out, or taking a year off, and smart people are portrayed as being ugly, bitchy, or pathetic. Most women who read are highly intelligent, even if they wouldn't describe themselves as intellectuals, necessarily, and I can't help but wonder what the appeal is in a book that is so condemnatory about what is--for me, anyway--such an integral part of who I am.
That isn't to say that there aren't any good new adult books out there--there are--but from what I have seen the bad outweigh the good. Unfortunately, until these books stop making money, they are going to keep being published, and the speed and relative convenience of self-publishing has ensured that the market will remain heavily saturated. All trends must come to an end, though, and I harbor some small hope that one day, someone will wake up and realize that the lives of men and women, ages 18 to 24, are so much more complex and meaningful than we are making them out to be.
Until that day, however, I'm going to walk the moment I see a white, straight, cis couple kissing in the rain on the cover of a book that promises me an "edgy," "gritty" tale with "dark content."
If, for some reason, you've been living under a rock for the last two years and somehow missed the frenzied rush to cash in on the latest trend, "new adult" is essentially older YA that takes place in the 18-24 age bracket, typically during, pre- or post-college. And everyone is doing it.
In principle, new adult is a great idea. Before the sudden explosion in popularity, the 18-24 age bracket was sorely under-represented in popular fiction. Back in college, my roommates and I loved reading YA, but it was frustrating, being stuck with characters who were so much younger than we were, and who lived in what was, by and large, a world that even Disney wouldn't mind.
When I heard some of the summaries about popular new adult titles, I was excited. Finally, I could read about characters in my age bracket who explored real, edgy issues, like drug use, sexuality, living on one's own for the first time, going off to college for the first time, and so on. I read several of the most popular new adult titles to satisfy my curiosity, and then came to a very depressing realization: these books were not about my life--and they're not about the lives of anyone I know.
Most new adult books have been reduced to a simple formula:
Girl meets boy. Boy is trouble. Girl doesn't care. They both live happily ever after.
Worse, still: these books often include gratuitous slut-shaming (i.e. punishing a woman for being sexual, or actively pursuing sex), unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and domestic violence and rape masquerading as romance. It is not uncommon, for example, to have the male protagonist beat up men (and sometimes women) while the female character looks on. Usually, the male protagonist coerces the (usually virgin) heroine into a sexual relationship, during which they typically do not use a condom. At the end of the book, the heroine often finds out she's pregnant, and it ends with a wedding. They are racist, homophobic, and in general propagate a close-minded attitude that I'd really hate to see go mainstream because it is so hateful, and willfully ignorant.
If the book does take place in a college setting, it has been my experience that these colleges often resemble rich high schools. There are cliques, everyone seems to know everyone, and nobody seems to spend any actual time in class pursuing higher knowledge. The heroine frequently ends up dropping out, or taking a year off, and smart people are portrayed as being ugly, bitchy, or pathetic. Most women who read are highly intelligent, even if they wouldn't describe themselves as intellectuals, necessarily, and I can't help but wonder what the appeal is in a book that is so condemnatory about what is--for me, anyway--such an integral part of who I am.
That isn't to say that there aren't any good new adult books out there--there are--but from what I have seen the bad outweigh the good. Unfortunately, until these books stop making money, they are going to keep being published, and the speed and relative convenience of self-publishing has ensured that the market will remain heavily saturated. All trends must come to an end, though, and I harbor some small hope that one day, someone will wake up and realize that the lives of men and women, ages 18 to 24, are so much more complex and meaningful than we are making them out to be.
Until that day, however, I'm going to walk the moment I see a white, straight, cis couple kissing in the rain on the cover of a book that promises me an "edgy," "gritty" tale with "dark content."
Monday, October 6, 2014
Can You Read Bodice Rippers and Still Be a Feminist?
I think a lot of women these days are feeling as if they are being tugged in two directions: on the one hand, we have news stories that clearly show the presence of rape culture in our society, and songs that try to blur the lines when it comes to consent. (By the way, I am SUPER PSYCHED about California's "yes means yes" law.) Women see these things in the news, and of course, we feel angry and upset and afraid; because we do not want these things to happen to us, our family, or our friends.
On the other hand, we have some very anti-feminist romance novels topping the best-sellers lists. And a lot of women who claim to be feminists also like these misogynistic rape-fests masquerading as romance novels. This is not a new thing, either. The "bodice rippers" that were so prominent in the 70s and 80s were incredibly violent towards women, often featuring numerous rapes committed by heroes and villains alike. Yikes! So what gives? Shouldn't there be some kind of cognitive dissonance going on here? How is it possible to enjoy a romance novel that propagates such unhealthy attitudes towards male-female relationships and interactions; sex; and romance, in general?
First, I think it's important to note that there is a difference between rape fantasy and actual rape. Rape fantasy is about control: the woman is in charge of the scenario because it is entirely in her head, and about her desires. In a way, a rape fantasy is a paradox because the fantasy in and of itself implies that consent is implicit (unless, of course, you have OCD, or other psychiatric disorder, and the thoughts are a part of an unwanted, and unpleasant obsession).
The definition of rape is often hazy, but I have always considered it to be any unwanted sexual act, whether it is oral sex, digital stimulation/penetration, or vaginal/anal penetration. The critical part of the definition is that no "yes" was involved. The woman either said "no", or was unable to say "no" (e.g. unconscious, or inhibited by alcohol or drugs), and had the sexual act forced upon her, regardless. In this scenario, the woman has no control because it has been taken from her.
Romance novels may add to rape culture, which is an environment that makes apologies for or enables rapists and also shames women for being sexually autonomous, but they are a symptom, not a cause. It is troubling to see romance novels where the female lead ends up having a happily-ever-after with a rapist hero...but on the other hand, if reading the book allows a woman to be autonomous in fulfilling her own fantasies, isn't that a good thing?
The biggest problem with romance novels occurs when people attempt to translate them into reality. Romance novels are sexual fantasy, and not examples of how people should behave in real life. When fandoms get carried away in their "shipping" and call these rapist, misogynistic men their "book boyfriends," and jokingly call themselves "Mrs. Rapist," they are also contributing to rape culture; they are taking a horrible act, normalizing it, and making it mainstream.
I am not saying that these women want to be raped. But the context of a romance novel puts rape, and other misogynistic acts, into a toxic context where violence against women and rape are shown to be acts of love and devotion by a man so swept away by his passions that he has lost all control. Just think of that pivotal scene in Gone with the Wind...
So is it possible to read bodice rippers and still be a feminist?
Yes. I think it is, as long as you read wisely, with the understanding that fantasy is just that...fantasy. It is when romance novels begin to warp society's expectations for men and women that they begin to grow harmful, especially when they occlude this simple truth: there is only one person who bears any culpability for rape--the rapist.
On the other hand, we have some very anti-feminist romance novels topping the best-sellers lists. And a lot of women who claim to be feminists also like these misogynistic rape-fests masquerading as romance novels. This is not a new thing, either. The "bodice rippers" that were so prominent in the 70s and 80s were incredibly violent towards women, often featuring numerous rapes committed by heroes and villains alike. Yikes! So what gives? Shouldn't there be some kind of cognitive dissonance going on here? How is it possible to enjoy a romance novel that propagates such unhealthy attitudes towards male-female relationships and interactions; sex; and romance, in general?
First, I think it's important to note that there is a difference between rape fantasy and actual rape. Rape fantasy is about control: the woman is in charge of the scenario because it is entirely in her head, and about her desires. In a way, a rape fantasy is a paradox because the fantasy in and of itself implies that consent is implicit (unless, of course, you have OCD, or other psychiatric disorder, and the thoughts are a part of an unwanted, and unpleasant obsession).
The definition of rape is often hazy, but I have always considered it to be any unwanted sexual act, whether it is oral sex, digital stimulation/penetration, or vaginal/anal penetration. The critical part of the definition is that no "yes" was involved. The woman either said "no", or was unable to say "no" (e.g. unconscious, or inhibited by alcohol or drugs), and had the sexual act forced upon her, regardless. In this scenario, the woman has no control because it has been taken from her.
Romance novels may add to rape culture, which is an environment that makes apologies for or enables rapists and also shames women for being sexually autonomous, but they are a symptom, not a cause. It is troubling to see romance novels where the female lead ends up having a happily-ever-after with a rapist hero...but on the other hand, if reading the book allows a woman to be autonomous in fulfilling her own fantasies, isn't that a good thing?
The biggest problem with romance novels occurs when people attempt to translate them into reality. Romance novels are sexual fantasy, and not examples of how people should behave in real life. When fandoms get carried away in their "shipping" and call these rapist, misogynistic men their "book boyfriends," and jokingly call themselves "Mrs. Rapist," they are also contributing to rape culture; they are taking a horrible act, normalizing it, and making it mainstream.
I am not saying that these women want to be raped. But the context of a romance novel puts rape, and other misogynistic acts, into a toxic context where violence against women and rape are shown to be acts of love and devotion by a man so swept away by his passions that he has lost all control. Just think of that pivotal scene in Gone with the Wind...
So is it possible to read bodice rippers and still be a feminist?
Yes. I think it is, as long as you read wisely, with the understanding that fantasy is just that...fantasy. It is when romance novels begin to warp society's expectations for men and women that they begin to grow harmful, especially when they occlude this simple truth: there is only one person who bears any culpability for rape--the rapist.
New Blog!
I already have a reviewing blog, but my friend thought it was weird that I didn't have one for my books and writing stuff as well. She's a writer as well and I was nagging her to write, and she was like, "MAKE YOUR BLOG, NENIA." So I was like, "OK I AM MAKING ONE NOW YOU WRITE, BITCH." It is through such retaliatory gestures that success happens.
So this is Nenia's Books. The name is pretty self-explanatory, I guess, but I'll walk you through the site layout. (I spent hours on the HTML and making sure all the hyperlinks worked properly.)
The banner at the top is for navigating my blog.
'HOME' will take you to my blog entries.
'ABOUT THE AUTHOR' is about me, the author. I used the brief bio that's currently on Goodreads.
'LIST OF WORKS' is a list of all my current works. I've added pages for all the main books. I think there are three that I haven't gotten to, yet (Tantalized, Witchfire, and How to Write Good). Generally, though, if a book is listed but doesn't have a hyperlink, that means it hasn't been published yet.
'TWITTER' takes you to my Twitter page. This is one of the best ways to get in contact with me; all tweets are synced with my phone, so I can pretty much answer you anytime, anywhere.
'FACEBOOK FAN PAGE' takes you to my Facebook fan page. I would be honored to have your 'like'!
'GOODREADS AUTHOR PAGE' takes you to my Goodreads Author Page. When I'm on the computer, I'm usually on Goodreads, so this is the second best way to get in contact with me.
'INSTAGRAM' takes you to my instagram. Most of the stuff on here has nothing to do with my books, although occasionally I make personal thank-you cards and banners here for readers.
'PINTEREST' takes you to my Pinterest. I have boards here for most of my stories, published or not.
'REVIEWING BLOG' takes you to my other blogger blog, The Armchair Librarian. It is where I post reviews of the books I read. I love reading, and welcome comments from fellow book-lovers!
'BUY ON SMASHWORDS' and 'BUY ON AMAZON' take you to my author pages on Smashwords and Amazon, respectively. This is where you can buy my available books.
Thank you so much for being a fan! <3
So this is Nenia's Books. The name is pretty self-explanatory, I guess, but I'll walk you through the site layout. (I spent hours on the HTML and making sure all the hyperlinks worked properly.)
The banner at the top is for navigating my blog.
'HOME' will take you to my blog entries.
'ABOUT THE AUTHOR' is about me, the author. I used the brief bio that's currently on Goodreads.
'LIST OF WORKS' is a list of all my current works. I've added pages for all the main books. I think there are three that I haven't gotten to, yet (Tantalized, Witchfire, and How to Write Good). Generally, though, if a book is listed but doesn't have a hyperlink, that means it hasn't been published yet.
'TWITTER' takes you to my Twitter page. This is one of the best ways to get in contact with me; all tweets are synced with my phone, so I can pretty much answer you anytime, anywhere.
'FACEBOOK FAN PAGE' takes you to my Facebook fan page. I would be honored to have your 'like'!
'GOODREADS AUTHOR PAGE' takes you to my Goodreads Author Page. When I'm on the computer, I'm usually on Goodreads, so this is the second best way to get in contact with me.
'INSTAGRAM' takes you to my instagram. Most of the stuff on here has nothing to do with my books, although occasionally I make personal thank-you cards and banners here for readers.
'PINTEREST' takes you to my Pinterest. I have boards here for most of my stories, published or not.
'REVIEWING BLOG' takes you to my other blogger blog, The Armchair Librarian. It is where I post reviews of the books I read. I love reading, and welcome comments from fellow book-lovers!
'BUY ON SMASHWORDS' and 'BUY ON AMAZON' take you to my author pages on Smashwords and Amazon, respectively. This is where you can buy my available books.
Thank you so much for being a fan! <3
This book is an omnibus edition of books 1-3 in the Horrorscape series.
A young woman gets entangled with a burgeoning psychopath who will do anything to possess her.
The titles contained in this edition are:
Fearscape
Horrorscape
Terrorscape
Buying these books bundled saves over $1 in retail value.
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