Valentine’s Day is just around the corner and the shops are already heaving with romance merchandise. Once upon a time all it took to win the heart of a loved one was a bunch of flowers – not anymore! Get ready to either splash the cash, or think outside the box. That might include acting the part of a romantic literary figure. But a word to the wise: be careful who you choose. For example, pretending to be Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pride and Prejudice carries its own set of risks. Darcy may be handsome but good looks are no excuse for arrogance or bad manners and even though he turns out to be a fairly decent guy, it’s the first impression that sticks in the memory. The moral of the story? If you want a Valentine’s Day to remember, then don’t do a Darcy!
All of which leads to my next point. By now you’ll have probably guessed that to me Valentine’s Day is about as welcome as smallpox! I will never understand why romance is hooked to February 14th, or why love stories are (supposedly) better if they’re read on that date. So, for all you cynics out there, this is my pushback against Cupid’s arrow: a sober, reflective list of books, some of which I like because of the writing or sly humour, others which I will never read again because the “romantic” heroes are about as acceptable as a dose of flu. You might beg to differ!
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
Let me start by putting my cards on the table. I absolutely hate this book! There, I’ve said it. I know it’s a literary classic shot through with flashes of feminism, and that it has legions of fans (including Dame Jacqueline Wilson), but me and this book have never clicked. Why? Maybe because I find Jane irritating while the “hero”, Edward Rochester, is beyond despicable! Tall, dark, and handsome he may be but he’s also a potential bigamist and a misogynist who imprisons his mentally ill wife in the attic of his gothic pile. What kind of man does that and then tries to marry his kid’s nanny? He’s about as romantic as a dead snake!
Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
Oh dear, here we go again! Yet another romantic “hero” we’re all supposed to like because apart from being “complex” (a catch all word open to many interpretations), Heathcliff is also dark, needy, and brooding…in other words the embodiment of Byronic allure. How many times does it need to be said that good looks do not compensate for shitty behaviour, and Heathcliff is a shit! Okay, so he had a tough upbringing while Cathy, his soul mate (who’s also “complex”), ditches him for the rich bloke on the estate next door. Life wasn’t meant to be fair, so get over it! Except that Heathcliff can’t and after an absence of so many years, he returns to Wuthering Heights to pursue a vendetta against everyone who ever wronged him. He dies, but only after leaving a trail of death and emotional carnage behind him. Verdict? Heathcliff and Cathy are as toxic as Chernobyl!
50 Shades of Grey by E.L James
Where do you start with a book that’s so dreadful you can feel yourself losing the will to live before you’re even halfway through the story? Let’s take it from the beginning! College graduate Anastasia Steele is “romantically” involved with handsome young businessman Christian Grey. So far so bland, except that Christian’s sexual tastes include BDSM (Bondage, Discipline, Sadism, and Masochism) which the virginal Ana has never tried before, although she soon gets the hang of the acronym! After tedious bouts of bonking along with BDSM sessions in Christian’s “playroom”, Ana belatedly realises that she and Christian aren’t compatible (any fool could’ve told her that!) and she pulls the plug on their “relationship”. This book is utter pants!
Riders by Jilly Cooper
I actually liked this book when it first came out. But I have to admit that reading it many years later pushed my toes into a violent upward curl. Cooper is a decent enough writer. She’s engaging, funny (in all the right places), and very observant but Rupert Campbell Black, the main protagonist, is an absolute stomach-churner. Okay, so he’s vaguely amusing, strikingly handsome, and an excellent horseman but to put it bluntly he’s also a right bastard! He’s ruthless, has a colossal sense of entitlement, is shamelessly adulterous, horribly aggressive (he attacks his wife), and extremely sexist (like the book cover!). Lovable bounder? No, a man who should carry a public health warning!
My Sister the Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite
Okay, so serial killing and romance don’t necessarily go hand in hand although Oyinkan Braithwaite has brilliantly juxtaposed the two. Set in Nigeria this is the story of sisters Korede, a nurse, and her younger sibling Ayoola. When Ayoola does away with her boyfriends, she knows she can always rely on her big sister to help clean up the mess. It’s an arrangement that generally works until Ayoola starts dating a doctor at the hospital where her sister is employed. As it happens, Korede has the hots for the same medic which means she must break up the relationship to stop him getting a knife in his back. A smart, wonderfully written black comedy!
Girl 20, by Kingsley Amis
Take a wicked, satirical trip down memory lane into 1970s London permissiveness, where music critic Douglas Yandell is enlisted by Kitty Vandervane to keep an eye on her wayward husband Roy, an eminent, politically “right on” orchestra conductor with a zip problem. Kitty’s suspicions are more than justified as Roy’s latest “conquest”, Sylvia, is younger than him and about as likeable as a plate of frozen fish fingers! Things get even more complicated when Douglas becomes enmeshed in his own relationship dramas, while Roy tries to use him as an alibi. A likeable read with genuine moments of bitter sweetness.
Jake’s Thing by Kinglsey Amis
Literature’s master satirist does it again with a wry send up of the male impotence industry. Oxford don Jake Richardson is looking for his lost libido. Not easy given the multitude of quacks and charlatans plying their trade with so-called miracle cures. But with a record of lechery and philandering to uphold, Jake is unlikely to disobey his doctor’s orders. Cue a hilarious journey into a world of sex labs, gadgets, therapy rooms, trendy “workshops” where everything hangs out, porn mags read behind closed doors, in fact anything that gets a rise. What’s love got to do with it?
The Seventh Son, by Sebastian Faulks
Sebastian Faulks paints a chilling picture of what happens when a surrogacy arrangement between a young woman and a married couple, is cynically corrupted in the name of science and ego. The child, Seth, discovers the truth of his origins as an adult. From then on his life is spent living in the shadows avoiding conspiracy theorists, religious fundamentalists, and a hungry out- of- control media fixated with his DNA. Depressing stuff, but sometimes a thought-provoking reality jolt is no bad thing…even on Valentine’s Day!
Whitby Vampyrrhic by Simon Clark
There’s nothing like a good old fashioned vampire story to sink one’s teeth into and Whitby Vampyrrhic delivers on the nose. Beth, Sally, and Alec are in the Yorkshire town of Whitby – where Bram Stoker’s Count Dracula made land – in the winter of 1942 to shoot a government propaganda film. What they don’t realise, until it’s too late, is that the town is also home to a local vampire posse that’s getting bigger (and hungrier) by the day. Blood, sweat and tears!
Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier
This is one of those books that divides opinion amongst my friends! Rebecca is either a romantic classic about a young woman who marries an older rich man and lives in his big house (Manderley), where she’s intimidated by his dead first wife and a demented housekeeper; or it’s the story of a young woman gaslit into marrying an older rich man, who moves her into his big house where she’s intimidated by his dead wife and trolled by a demented housekeeper. Take your pick!
