Paranormal Romance Research Articles

THE IMAGE OF THE VAMPIRE IN WORLD AND LATVIAN LITERATURE

The theme of the article is evolution of the popular folklore image of the vampire in world literature. From the monster of folk narrative the image of the vampire entered literary culture at the beginning of the 19th century when writers of the age of Romanticism sought material for their work in folk tales. The novel “Dracula” written by the Irish writer Bram Stoker set a large part of attributes for the image of the vampire in readers’ consciousness. It became a turning point in the evolution of the vampire. In the following years the vampire was a popular symbol in the 20th century literary experiments; however, it gained a considerable fame with a more rapid spreading of the cinema. Later, until the second half of the 20th century the image of the vampire was degraded to the level of a cheap horror monster. In the 1970s it was revived by the American writer Anne Rice in her series of novels “The Vampire Chronicles”. For the time being the latest tendency in the evolution of the vampire is represented by the novels of paranormal romance subgenre intended for young adults. In these novels the vampire has assumed the aura of a romantic character. In comparison with world literature vampire has not won a massive popularity in the novels of Latvian writers; however, some authors have occasionally used this image in their works. The image of the vampire appears in Latvian literature as a classical blood sucking monster, as a political symbol and also as a romantic hero in fantasy and adventure novels for young people. As we can see, the presence of the image of the vampire in Latvian writing reflects the same tendencies that have dominated world literature on a smaller scale. For this reason Latvian literature can be considered to be an interesting testimony of literary connections in the world.

The Whispering Dark by Kelly Andrew

Reviewed by: The Whispering Dark by Kelly Andrew Amanda Toledo Andrew, Kelly The Whispering Dark. Scholastic, 2022 [400p] Trade ed. ISBN 9781338809473 $19.99 E-book ed. ISBN 9781338809497 $12.99 Reviewed from digital galleys R Gr. 8-12 Delaney Meyers-Petrov has secured a place at the legendary Godbole School, and she’s ready to shake the image that has overshadowed her since she lost her hearing at a young age: “Tragic Delaney, who’d fallen too sick too young . . . Fragile Delaney, who needed constant coddling. But capable Delaney—that was something new.” The promise of paranormal magic at Godbole appears to be true: Delaney’s roommate practices scrying, another friend knows the future, and teacher’s assistant Colton Price can rip open doors to another world. Still, Delaney struggles with the few accommodations provided for Deaf and Hard of Hearing students, and she seems to have made an enemy of Colton, whose help she dearly needs to pass her classes. When Delaney begins to connect the recent disappearances of some Godbole [End Page 79] students to a secret society Colton belongs to, the two must work together to stop the evil at the college’s heart. Delaney and Colton’s push-and-pull relationship is the driving force of this deliciously dark paranormal romance, and Andrew’s debut has all the angst and atmosphere that will keep lovers of this genre eagerly turning the pages. The mystery aspect is not quite up to par with the romance, with opaque hints and sudden scene skips, but this still makes a strong recommendation for those looking for more dark academia like Leigh Bardugo’s Ninth House, or more teen angst like Cassandra Clare’s Mortal Instruments series. Copyright © 2022 The Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois

Repurposing Fantasy Island: Lani Wendt Young’s Telesā Series and the Politics of Postcolonial Romance

This essay focuses on the YA paranormal romance series Telesā by Samoan writer Lani Wendt Young to discuss how the author repurposes generic conventions to portray island identities and material realities as nuanced and complex. This is accomplished by revising three key island tropes prevalent in western popular narratives about the Pacific: the island as a lush and exotic paradise, the island as a place of sexual freedom, and the island as a site of danger and adventure. The novels create a culturally specific fantasy world which amplifies the scope of popular fiction and is also capable of implementing a postcolonial, feminist and ecocritical agenda, offering discussions of gender violence, neocolonialism and the impact of climate change in the region.

Crosses to Cullens

Although the figure of the vampire in Western culture has undergone significant alterations from the nineteenth century to the modern day in terms of presentation, there has always existed a strain of latent sexual concern in their depictions. In earlier works, this sexuality was couched in a negative light, often incorporating themes of sexual assault, the violation of private spaces and dangerous, ‘tempting’ aspects of sexuality. This article will argue that, although there is continuity between early Gothic vampire fiction and modern vampiric paranormal romance in terms of their connection to sexuality, there has nevertheless been significant evolution in the manner in which that sexuality is approached, as it transforms from sexualised assault to a dangerous romance.

(Para)normalizing Rape Culture

Contemporary Young Adult literature is a favored genre for exploring sexual assault, yet rarely interrogates the social structures underpinning rape culture. In its representation of heterosexual relationships, Young Adult paranormal romance offers insight into the processes and structures that uphold rape culture. Genre tropes normalize abusive behavior and gender ideals, demonstrating the explicit and implicit construction of rape culture, culminating in the depiction of supernatural possession analogous to rape. Here, I reflect on power, control, rape culture, and girlhood in a textual analysis of Nina Malkin’sSwoon, Becca Fitzpatrick’sHush, Hush, and Sarah Rees Brennan’sThe Demon’s Covenant. A constructive reading reflects implicit cultural discourses presented to the girl reader, who can apply this to her own negotiation of girlhood.

‘Daddy, I'm falling for a monster’: Women, Sex, and Sacrifice in Contemporary Paranormal Romance

This paper examines a key trope within much contemporary paranormal romance: the absence, or ineffectiveness, of the father. The first part of the essay develops an analysis of this aspect of the genre (in the Twilight Saga especially) through the work of René Girard, Luce Irigaray, and Juliet MacCannell. Of particular importance here is the extent to which Twilight and similar narratives stage female self-sacrifice as a pre-condition for the redemption of the hero and the restoration of patriarchal bonds initially compromised by some crisis in the effective functioning of paternal authority. The second section extends this analysis to consider ways in which paranormal romances featuring werewolves and vampires shift away from this conservative and reductivist romance paradigm so as to affirm and contest heteronormative, paternalistic models of masculinity and sexual desire.

Full Moon Masculinities: Masculine Werewolves, Emotional Repression, and Violence in Young Adult Paranormal Romance Fiction

Gothic monsters have recently experienced a period of focused scholarly analysis, although few studies have engaged with the werewolf in terms of its overt alignment with masculinity. Yet the werewolves of young adult fantasy fiction both support and subvert dominant masculine discourses through their complex negotiation with emotional repression and violence. These performative masculine practices are the focus of this article, which analyses how hegemonic masculine ideals are reinforced or rejected in a corpus of young adult fantasy texts, including Cassandra Clare's young adult series The Mortal Instruments (2007–2014) and Stephenie Meyer's Twilight Saga (2005–2010). Both texts feature masculine characters whose lycanthropic experiences implicitly comment upon gender norms, which may shape young adult audiences' understanding of their own and others' gender identities.

Identity and Representation in US Comics

Identity and Representation in US Comics

The Militarized Shape-Shifter: Authorized Violence and Military Connections as an Antidote to Monstrosity

This article explores the idea that monstrosity can be negated through association with a military force. Using the ideas of authorized violence and justum bellum along with an exploration of the foundations for American confidence in their military forces and the historical use of heroic, chivalric shape-shifters, the article discusses how shape-shifters with these ideals allow a heroic figure to emerge despite the violent actions he or she might perpetrate. The article uses ancient texts, military laws and oaths, military philosophies, animal behaviour texts, urban fantasy, science fiction, and paranormal romance to show how shape-shifters' association with noble causes and military affiliations allows authorized violence and has resulted in a militarized heroic shape-shifter ideal.

Sexual Content in Young Adult Literature: Reading Between the Sheets by Bryan Gillis and Joanna Simpson

Reviewed by: Sexual Content in Young Adult Literature: Reading Between the Sheets by Bryan Gillis and Joanna Simpson Christine N. Stamper (bio) Sexual Content in Young Adult Literature: Reading Between the Sheets. By Bryan Gillis and Joanna Simpson. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2015. Bryan Gillis and Joanna Simpson’s survey of young adult novels with sexual content serves as a comprehensive overview of how and why sexuality and sex acts are used within books for adolescent readers. The authors state their hope that the book “provide[s] parents, teachers, and librarians with a better understanding of the role that sex in young adult fiction plays in the socioemotional and academic development of adolescents” (ix). In looking at specific novels, genres, and time periods, Gillis and Simpson’s analysis is often punctuated with quotations from authors about how and why they include scenes that contain explicit sex or emotionally charged intimate situations. While this approach certainly gives insight into the scenes that Gillis and Simpson analyze in their study, it also serves to illustrate (perhaps to concerned parent readers) that the sexual content in adolescent literature is not included without intention and character/plot development. Rather, sex is often used in these novels as a space for character growth and maturation, providing fictional models for teens to explore safely. The book opens with two chapters that contextualize why the use of sexual content in novels matters for real-world teenagers, looking at identity formation within adolescents and, briefly, at the history of public school sex education in the United States. These chapters are brief but informative, summarizing how identities (including normative gender roles) are socially constructed, and how the US came to have the abstinence-only sex ed currently provided in many schools. Gillis and Simpson then turn their attention to literature, looking at sexual content within the Western canon that is often taught in high schools. This chapter highlights the sex present in works by authors that many expect high schools to be teaching to teenagers, such as Shakespeare, Chaucer, Hawthorne, and Homer. Looking at pedagogy, the authors argue that teachers are often able to avoid discussing sex when using these works, which are linguistically difficult for their students; however, removing the sexual content from these novels does them a disservice: “If we are requiring students to read adult content, then we should treat them as adults or choose alternative texts” (34). The authors then shift to young adult literature from the 1950s through the 1980s. Here they illustrate how sex was often punished with awful consequences, such as pregnancy, unfulfilling marriages, or being forced to leave school. However, they then look at prolific authors at the time—such as Judy Blume and Norma Klein—who redefined gender roles and included female characters who showed sexual agency and desire, [End Page 465] which had previously been virtually absent in literature for teens. In the next three chapters, Gillis and Simpson examine contemporary young adult literature by genre, dividing the field into dystopian novels, romance novels, and contemporary realistic fiction and giving a brief history of each of them, both within and outside of adolescent literature, along with short analyses of representative novels. Within the dystopia chapter, they investigate several of their own subcategories, including government-controlled sex, disease-induced sexual abstinence, and sex and romance in dystopian series. These categories all serve the same purpose of examining how sex, romance, and love are governed within these repressive societies. The authors posit that “Dystopian YAL is popular because these stories create worlds that challenge the protagonists to question the status quo,” and expressing their sexuality is one way in which characters can rebel against authoritarianism (98). Similarly, the romance chapter is divided into paranormal romance and realistic romance, discussing how in this category sexual content must be emotionally linked to character and plot development. Whether the romance takes place in supernatural worlds or in familiar settings, it is the “honesty [of sexual relationships] that draws readers in and keeps them reading. A lack of honesty, particularly emotional honesty, is what has led to the failure of school sex education programs across the country” (121). It is also this honesty that allows...

In a World Just Right by Jen Brooks (review)

Reviewed by: In a World Just Right by Jen Brooks Karen Coats Brooks, Jen In a World Just Right. Simon ,2015 432p Trade ed. ISBN 978-1-4814-1660-3 $17.99 E-book ed. ISBN 978-1-4814-1662-7 $10.99 Reviewed from galleys R Gr. 7-10 After surviving a plane crash that killed his family years ago, eighteen-year-old Jonathan Aubrey discovered he had a gift to make alternate worlds that he can slip in and out of at will. The most significant alternate realm is Kylie-Simms-is-my-girlfriend, a reality-based world where his scars from the accident don’t matter and popular Kylie is in love with him. The worlds have always been completely separate from each other and from reality, so he’s a little weirded out one day when real-world Kylie notices him and alternate-world Kylie asks for space; it seems that the two are merging, and it’s adversely affecting both Kylies’ mental health. As he finds out more, he realizes that creating and controlling fantasy beings who must behave the way he wants them to may not be entirely ethical. While readers may have lingering questions about the physics of Jonathan’s worlds, they will cycle through sympathy and moral uncertainty as he confronts his deepening understanding of what he has done and what he now must do. Moreover, they will appreciate Brooks’ pacing as she slowly brings both Jonathan and the reader to the knowledge that something is not right in this paranormal romance, so that the reveal is both unexpected and exactly what they suspected all along. Jonathan is both profoundly sad and profoundly boy in his struggle with what it means to be a good person when your moral compass has been shattered and you are left with the power to be your own god. Readers will find multiple points for empathy and reflection in this intriguing take on what-if. [End Page 482] Copyright © 2015 The Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois

Ashes to Ashes by Melissa Walker (review)

Reviewed by: Ashes to Ashes by Melissa Walker Karen Coats Walker, Melissa. Ashes to Ashes. Tegen/HarperCollins, 2013. [336p]. Trade ed. ISBN 978-0-06-207734-9 $17.99 E-book ed. ISBN 978-0-06-207736-3 $9.99 Reviewed from galleys R Gr. 7-10. Callie has always dulled her pain over losing her mother with daredevil stunts, and after her dad gives her a fast BMW, she’s simultaneously testing its limits and answering her cell phone when suddenly she’s broadsided and pulled into another dimension. She’s greeted by a set of glowing teenagers and informed that the most handsome one, Thatcher, is to be her guide through a way station on the road to the afterlife, an intermediary place from which she can help the living gain peace with her death. Thatcher is cautious and uptight, though, and Callie comes to prefer the company of a group of wild teen ghosts who have a different idea of the purposes and potentials of haunting, and who are using her mysteriously strong energy to possess humans. Callie may struggle to understand the reasons behind Thatcher’s rules, but readers will know immediately that she is making all the wrong choices with her afterlife, and this is what drives the suspense here: will her reckless decisions and misplaced trust lead her to a fate worse than—or at least subsequent to—death? A gentle didacticism aimed squarely at risky teen behavior pervades the story as Cassie learns to appreciate her father’s style of care, and her glaringly bad judgment will have readers shaking their heads; the lure of an after-death romance on top of [End Page 288] the tried-and-true premise of a teen’s imagining what will happen to friends and family after her death, though, will keep readers enthralled. Walker has chosen a perfect setting in Charleston, SC, where ghosts are a matter of course and steamy summers heighten the gothic atmospherics of teens courting danger. The ending is a bit of a tease—sequel, or just a wink to resist closure? Either way, readers will be intrigued by this entry in the paranormal romance genre. Copyright © 2014 The Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois

After Eden by Helen Douglas (review)

Reviewed by: After Eden by Helen Douglas Alaine Martaus Douglas, Helen. After Eden. Bloomsbury, 2013. [288p]. ISBN 978-1-61963-130-4 $17.99 Reviewed from galleys R Gr. 8-12. Sixteen-year-old Eden leads a fairly ordinary life in her seaside Cornwall village, attending school, studying for exams, and hanging out with friends. When gorgeous new guy Ryan Westland appears halfway through the school year, Eden is instantly intrigued, but a few things about him don’t add up. Eventually she uncovers a shocking truth: Ryan is from the future, on a mission to stop Eden’s best friend Connor from making a discovery that will eventually lead to the Earth’s destruction. Initially heartbroken, Eden is soon drawn into the secret conspiracy to thwart Connor’s find in an effort to save humanity. Complicating matters are Connor’s unrequited feelings for Eden, Ryan’s growing attraction to her, and Eden’s seeming inability to keep a secret. When she hints to the wrong people that she knows more about the future than she should, she endangers not just the mission but the lives of everyone around her and the future of the Earth itself. What’s on offer here is essentially a science fiction version of paranormal romance, as the story focuses on the burgeoning relationship between Eden and Ryan more than the underlying concept. Fans of the genre will recognize its conventions, including a super-average heroine, an extraordinary hero, a love triangle, and otherworldly obstacles for the couple to overcome, and they will likely delight in the time-travel take on a narrative they love. Those willing to suspend disbelief and scientific skepticism for the joy of the ride will find themselves swept up in Eden’s adventure and excited for expected sequels. Copyright © 2014 The Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois

Welcome to Fright Night: A Review of Vintage: A Ghost Story and The Less Dead

Two novels with LGBTQ themes and characters move queer young adult publishing beyond the usual coming-out stories and into more mainstream young adult genres. Vintage: A Ghost Story offers paranormal romance with an LGBTQ twist, while The Less Dead presents a queer take on serial killer fiction.

Social Media and the Review

Social Media and the Review Jeffrey R. Di Leo Where should you go to find out about the latest novel by your favorite author? Or to learn about the hottest works in your area of interest? Until the end of twentieth century, the clear and unambiguous answer to these questions was “book reviews.” Today, though, “book blogs” and “social reading” are competing—and compelling—responses to these questions. So, how do you choose? In many ways, book reviews are now the throwback choice. Written by specialists and generalists alike, book reviews populated magazines, journals, newspapers, and other forms of print media up until the rise of the World Wide Web. Some were written by nationally recognized writers for nationally distributed publications like the New York Times Book Review and The Nation; others by “professional reviewers” who sold their reviews to different publications; and still others by “non-professionals” who gave their efforts to scores of periodicals that put aside valuable print space for reviews. Reviews have been contested and controversial throughout their history, and there have always been efforts to improve them. In perhaps the best recent study of book reviewing, Gail Pool’s Faint Praise: The Plight of Book Reviewing in America (2007), three specific suggestions are made: 1) “we need to devise a better means of choosing books for review”; 2) “we need to find better ways to reward reviewers”; and 3) “we need to better train. . .reviewers and review editors, better preparing them for the technical constraints and demands of the genre and, more broadly, alerting them to critical and ethical issues in the field.” But as the print publication age gives way to the electronic age, concerns like those raised by Pool seem distant—particularly when viewed through the lens of “book blogs” and “social reading.” The issue of a “better means of choosing” books evaporates when the constraints of print publication gives way to the expanses of the electronic dissemination. Book blogs cover and recover every imaginable corner of the book world. Book Blogger Directory (bookbloggerdirectory.com), for example, has links to “Fiction Book Blogs,” “Non-Fiction Book Blogs,” “Religious Book Blogs,” and “Young Adult Book Blogs.” The sublinks under “Fiction Book Blogs” alone then list “Children’s Under 12,” “Comics & Graphic Novel,” “Erotica, GBLT & Adult Romance,” “Historical, Classic Literature,” “General Fiction, Poetry, Everything!,” “Action Adventure, Mystery, Horror & Thrillers, Espionage,” “Romance,” “Science Fiction & Fantasy,” and, last but not least, my favorite of the sublinks, “Paranormal Romance & Urban Fantasy.” In the world according to book blogs, Pool’s “better means of choosing” issue translates into “opportunities for coverage.” Book blogs as a genre don’t have selectivity issues because anything can be covered or “selected.” Whereas Pool was concerned with lack of selectivity in book reviews because it leads to “overlooking good books, overpraising bad ones,” in the case of book blogs, the concern is not “overlooking good books” (How is it possible to miss one when all seem to be included?) but “overpraising bad ones.” To be sure, the most obvious negative potential to be found in the book blog is its capacity to become a bad books paradise. Pool’s comment about finding better ways to train reviewers and review editors seems remote from the world of book blogging. While there are bloggers and blog editors that meet the demands Pool is placing on book reviewers, the vast majority of book bloggers and blog editors do not. Nor is it reasonable to expect them to become versed in the “technical constraints and demands of the genre” since server space is their only technical constraint and time is the main requirement of the genre. Critical and ethical issues involved in book blogging are only beginning to emerge. However, unlike book reviewing for financial compensation, which has its own ethical and critical issues, reviews in book blogs are seldom compensated. Still, opportunities for logrolling—or even blogging on one’s own work—are widely available. Book reviewing can also be hindered by academic career aspirations. In a recent article for The Chronicle of Higher Education, Rachel Toor, who spent a dozen years as an acquisitions editor at Oxford and Duke University Presses, wonders if “the time...

Kill Me Softly (review)

Reviewed by: Kill Me Softly Kate Quealy-Gainer Cross, Sarah . Kill Me Softly. Egmont, 2012. [320p]. Trade ed. ISBN 978-1-60684-323-9 $17.99 E-book ed. ISBN 978-1-60684-324-6 $17.99 Reviewed from galleys Ad Gr. 8-10. At fifteen, Mirabelle commits her first act of rebellion by running away to Beau Rivage, the hometown of her late parents and a place expressly forbidden by her strict, overprotective godmothers. Among the fairy-tale themed casinos and skeevy hotels, Mira meets a host of teens with strange characteristics (a girl whose mouth [End Page 450] " drips jewels, a boy who can seemingly enchant animals), each bearing a birthmark that curses them to fulfill a role in a particular fairy tale; Mira shares a similar mark, in the vague shape of a spinning wheel. Before she can play out her fate as Sleeping Beauty, however, she falls in love with Felix, a boy marked as a villain whose role would inevitably cost Mira her life, unless she can change both their destinies. Like the superhero teens of Cross' debut, Dull Boy (BCCB 9/09), Mira and her friends are an entertainingly motley group forced to deal with extraordinary circumstances. The author throws them together in a way that emphasizes the heartbreak of each fairy tale: the Huntsman, for example, is hopelessly in love with Snow White even as he knows he will be asked to kill her, while Blue, Felix's brother, actively resists Mira's friendship (despite his affection for her) for fear that it would lead to her becoming another victim of Bluebeard's curse. Unfortunately, many of these more dark, subversive elements are left behind as the story increasingly focuses on Mira's relationship with Felix and then Blue, leading to a conclusion where the happiness is forced and the loose ends are multiple, with the fates of both Felix and Mira's parents remaining undisclosed. A paranormal romance that has the girl choosing the nice guy over the broody bad boy, however, is a rare gem these days, and readers may find that enough to be enchanted by Beau Rivage and its residents. Copyright © 2012 The Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois

The Queerness of Children’s Literature

The Queerness of Children’s Literature Matthew B. Prickett (bio) Innocence, Heterosexuality, and the Queerness of Children’s Literature, by Tison Pugh. New York: Routledge, 2011. The queerness of children’s literature—or of childhood, for that matter—is a growing topic in scholarly discussions. While past works on children’s literature and queerness focused on LGBTQ literature for children and young adults, or close deconstructive queer readings of texts, the ways in which we discuss queerness is changing. I’m thinking, for example, of Lee Edelman’s No Future: Queer Theory and the Death Drive; Steven Bruhm and Natasha Hurley’s collection Curiouser: On the Queerness of Children; and Kathryn Bond Stockton’s The Queer Child; or Growing Sideways in the Twentieth Century. All of these books expand the traditional approaches to queerness and ask scholars to see it more radically, especially as it pertains to children. Children’s literature studies, like queer theory, is also expanding, and Tison Pugh’s Innocence, Heterosexuality, and the Queerness of Children’s Literature is a brilliant study on how we can enlarge our conventional notions of children’s literature and queerness. Pugh begins his study explicitly and succinctly. “Children,” he argues, “cannot retain their innocence of sexuality while learning about normative heterosexuality, yet this inherent paradox runs throughout many classic narratives of children’s literature” (1). He focuses his book on two key concepts that he believes are central to many works of children’s fiction, whether explicit or not: innocence and sexuality. The tension between these two seemingly contradictory concepts, Pugh argues, is what renders children’s literature as queer. In the introduction, he pulls from many queer theorists—including Edelman and Stockton—to complicate his overall approach to queer theory. Despite dealing with some dense, theoretical material, Pugh expertly summarizes these works and reveals their potential for discussion of children in general and children’s literature in particular. As the title of his book suggests, Pugh focuses on heterosexuality rather than homosexuality; queerness, in his view, is far broader: “[Q]ueerness provides an apt metaphor for considering the psychosexual development of children, if one views queerness not as a synonym for homosexuality [End Page 292] but as a descriptor of disruptions to prevailing cultural codes of sexual and gender normativity” (6). The chapters that follow each present a kind of case study of different texts. The first chapter argues that L. Frank Baum’s Oz books are a queer utopia whose idealistic nature “is undercut by its antisocial and antireproductive edges” (28). The second chapter moves from the world of fantasy literature to the realistic fiction of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House series. Here, Pugh focuses on eternal childhood, tomboyism, and a fascinating argument about erotic triangles between child characters and horses. The middle chapters of the book concern three of the most popular fantasy series in contemporary children’s literature: Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials, J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series, and Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events. The impact of these three series on contemporary children’s literature cannot be overstated, and one might assume that these books (especially Rowling’s) have already been exhausted as topics in scholarly debates. Pugh, however, provides some meticulously close readings that are original and complex. The chapter on A Series of Unfortunate Events is the strongest, in part due to his discussion of the relationship between the mysterious Beatrice and Lemony Snicket as the narrator. Chapter six is about Eoin Colfer’s Artemis Fowl books. Again, the analysis and close readings throughout the chapter are excellent, but Pugh hesitates to draw any firm conclusions about the books because the series is still incomplete, which somewhat weakens his arguments. The penultimate chapter on Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight series explores the paranormal romance series in terms of abstinence and masochism. Much of this material will not be new to readers who have heard critical discussions of the series, but the highlight of this chapter is a brilliant argument about Bella Swan’s “bug-chasing hunger for infection and death” (157). The book concludes with a short discussion of David Levithan’s Boy Meets Boy. While this chapter could...

Blood Ties: The Vampire Lover in the Popular Romance

A perusal of the popular novel section in any bookstore will affirm that the paranormal, and specifically the vampire figure, is enjoying a resurgence of interest among readers. Not to be outdone, the film and television industry is currently benefiting from this interest and producing works like the film Twilight, based on the book by Stephanie Meyer, and the TV show True Blood, based on Charlaine Harris's Sookie Stackhouse series. That these particular examples originate from novels that fall into the popular romance genre is not unexpected. According to statistics brought out by Romance Writers of America, in 2009, the paranormal subgenre made up 17.16% of the popular romance genre, which in itself comprised 54% of all books sold by the publishing industry.1 Until a few years ago, only a few popular romance authors, for instance, Christine Feehan, Emma Holly, and Sherilyn Kenyon, were writing paranormals. Since then, this subgenre, and with it the preponderance of vampires as lovers that feature in these books, has increased exponentially in terms of sales and popularity; so much so that well established authors in the field who were usually linked to historical or contemporary romances, such as Norah Roberts, Heather Graham, and Christina Dodd, are now writing paranormals. That the paranormal, and by extension the vampire figure, would appear so prominently in popular romance novels is not altogether surprising as the romance genre is one that is dynamic and constantly reflecting and lending itself to the inclusion of current social and cultural trends.2 In the paranormal romances, the conventions and practices of the vampire found in horror novels are appropriated and transformed by popular romance writers into the essence of women's fantasy heroes. In these novels, the image of vampire as predator and, more importantly, the taking of blood or the blood exchange between the protagonists become the very elements that enhance, consolidate, and secure the couple's romantic relationship. Though the traditional vampire with its association with evil or its persona as an agent of the devil may seem an unlikely model for the archetypal popular romance hero, the vampire hero, in fact, follows closely the paradigm of what Jane Gordon calls the sympathetic vampire. Gordon differentiates between the vampire figures in horror novels as inherently evil whose over [their] prey is both extraordinary and cruel (230), and the sympathetic vampires who rather than being super-killers are super-survivors (230). These vampires must live in harmony with their world, be flexible, adaptable, and possess stamina, writes Gordon, adding that in this new depiction the sympathetic vampire retains its strength, but loses its terror (230). Gordon goes on to suggest that generally women who write about the vampire avoid the horror genre as, in that particular genre, relations reflecting the cultural male view where the is subjugated to his will are reproduced. In contrast, according to Gordon, in women's vampire fiction there is no hierarchy of where either the male or are the dominant figures but instead a partnership based on equality is formed. The relationships reflect female notions of power where [the] does not involve a rigid chain of command or competition; instead it focuses on cooperation and endurance (230). This view is especially pertinent when considering the vampire romance novel (a genre predominantly written by women for women) which sets out to redefine perceptions of the traditional vampire and vampire lore. Typically, the vampire archetype in the paranormal romance adheres closely to the model of the Gothic romance hero in the Heathcliffean or Byronic mode, a standard in the romance novel genre. In the gothic romances, the hero is usually depicted as dark and brooding, writhing inside with all the residual anguish of his shadowed past, world-weary and cynical, quick-tempered and prone to fits of guilt and depression. …

Outposts: Literary Landmarks & Events

outposts LiteraryLandmarks& Events Located on York Street across from the Queen Victoria Building inSydney, Galaxy Bookshop specializes in science fiction, fantasy, and hor ror. A cardboard Gandalf and skeletal pterodactyl guard the entrance to their current location, their fourthsinceGalaxy's founding in 1975.From Gulliver's Travels toTwilight, the collection of 14,000 titlesspans four centuries of writing and 240 square meters of floor space. It also includes hard-to-find books from small publishers, works by Australian authors, and titles that are otherwise difficultto find inAustralia. In addition tobooks, Galaxy sells movies, board games, and action figures related to the media worlds represented in theirprint collection. They offer their patrons book signings, a monthly newsletter, and bimonthly meetings of a paranormal romance book club. Science-fiction enthusiasts have access to a cata log through the store's website, located at galaxybooks. com.au, which also features a list of a ward-winning SF titles and the most recent edition of Galaxy's news letter. Chris Dearner ChrisDearner isa studentinlinguistics and English writingat the University of Oklahoma. His firstexperience with science fiction was readingTheHitchhiker's Guidetothe Galaxy,and he has never regretted it. 801World Literature Today ...

Core Collections in Genre Studies

Building genre collections is a central concern of public library collection development efforts. Even for college and university libraries, where it is not a major focus, a solid core collection makes a welcome addition for students needing a break from their course load and supports a range of academic interests. Given the widespread popularity of genre books, understanding the basics of a given genre is a great skill for all types of librarians to have. It was, therefore, an important and groundbreaking event when the RUSA Collection Development and Evaluation Section (CODES) voted to create a new juried list highlighting the best in genre literature. The Reading List, as the new list will be called, honors the single best title in eight genre categories: romance, mystery, science fiction, fantasy, horror, historical fiction, women's fiction, and the adrenaline genre group consisting of thriller, suspense, and adventure. To celebrate this new list and explore the wealth of genre literature, The Alert Collector will launch an ongoing, occasional series of genre-themed articles. This column explores the romance genre in all its many incarnations. Five librarians gathered together to write this column and share their knowledge and love of the genre. Each was asked to write an introduction to a subgenre and to select five books that highlight the features of that subgenre. The result is an enlightening, entertaining guide to building a core collection in the genre area that accounts for almost half of all paperbacks sold each year) Georgine Olson, who wrote the historical romance section, has been reading historical romance even longer than the thirty years or so she has been recommending good reads to fellow readers, and is a regular contributor to NoveList, editor of Fiction Acquisition/Fiction Management: Education and Training (Haworth, 1998), and chair of the Alaska Library Association Adult Readers Roundtable. Kristin Ramsdell, who wrote the Regency romance section, works at California State University, East Bay, and won the 1996 Romance Writers of America (RWA) Librarian of the Year award. She also is the romance review columnist for Library Journal. Joyce Saricks won the RWA Librarian of the Year award in 2000 and is the author of two groundbreaking readers' advisory titles, Readers' Advisory Service in the Public Library and The Readers' Advisory Guide to Genre Fiction. Lynne Welch, who wrote the paranormal romance section, reviews for Booklist, contributes to NoveList, and was the 2004 RWA Librarian of the year. Neal Wyatt, the Alert Collector editor, contributed the contemporary romance section. Note: Romance titles are frequently republished. Publication information is given for the newest in-print version of each title listed. Out-of-print titles are indicated with o.p.--Editor The romance genre can be divided into five main subgenres: contemporary, historical, Regency, suspense, and paranormal. Each offers readers an emotional connection with characters, an expected story arc that, while providing plenty of room for twists, turns, and innovation, also offers the comfort of familiarity and the assurance of a happy ending. Romance novels are built around the relationship between hero and heroine and the conflicts within that relationship. They are ultimately positive and optimistic novels that involve the reader on an emotional level. Fans of this genre love the snappy dialogue, well-crafted scenes, connection between the characters, and details of the character's lifestyles. TRADITIONAL REGENCY ROMANCES Tracing its origins from the witty, perceptive social commentaries of the critically observant Jane Austen, the traditional Regency romance often is considered to be the most elite of the romance subgenres. Graced with sparkling dialogue; intelligent, well-turned phrases; a glittering, though highly restrictive, social backdrop; and a preoccupation with the importance of social consequence and behavior, these chaste, refined comedies of manners have captured the imaginations of writers and readers alike; while few now are being published, they still have a small but militantly devoted fan base. …