Her women are blushing, impoverished virgins, pristine of heart and fragile of appetite her men, meanwhile, are swaggering Lotharios whose wallets bulge even more conspicuously than their designer underwear. James is still out there being glowingly profiled as a transgressive, taboo-busting warrior for women’s desire, given that her fictional worlds position female characters somewhere between the saintly Dorothea Brooke and the wimple-wearing Maria von Trapp. It is strange, when you pause to think about it, that E. And if the quotes make you want to read the whole novel, don’t say you weren’t warned. I could not have written a review of this book without a lot of effort (and actually reading it) and thank goodness, I didn’t have to! Fair warning – rude bits will follow. These subjects, while current, are not exactly my forté. “pervasive whiteness” in romance novels.(Me? Self-indulgent? Never!) I’m also reposting it because of the criteria against which Gilbert measures the book, including: I am not only reposting it because it supports my point of view – that would be plain self-indulgence. (And thank you kindly, The Atlantic magazine.) I’ve bolded some of the juicier bits. įor your enjoyment and edification, here is the funny and astute review by Sophie Gilbert. James on ‘The Mister’, published Apupdated rtrvd. You know, they do their thing, I do mine, and our paths do not cross.” Kerry Lengel, Arizona Republic, Fifty Shades’ author E.L. “The critics are less enthusiastic about everything I do.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |