I've decided I'm tired of trying to defend my genre. I have more important things to do than try to convince those who denigrate romance that there is value in the reading of our books (I'm sure this stance will change in time...again). But a recent conversation made me chuckle at the irony of reading snobbery.
A friend (and if she reads this, I hope she realizes that I'm not insulting her; she just made me think) read a "literary" book for her book group. She said that most of her group, including herself hated the book. So I started wondering why they would choose such books to read if they end up hating them? Because someone told them they have "value"? Because someone told them the such books are "good"? Why would I want to waste time reading something I hate?
I keep going back to the so-called "books that are good". I read one last year. It was a horrible painful story that featured, not one, but two child rapes. Yes, I know such things happen; yes, I know horrible things happen in the world; but when the novel couldn't even offer the hint of a triumph of the human spirit, I felt rotten and cheated.
Because I want to believe in the triumph of the human spirit. Whether or not it's real or possible is irrelevant. I want to believe in the triumph of the human spirit, so by God, I will, if only because it should be so.
So I will keep writing my HEA (happily ever after) stories where my characters have to triumph over evil, because that's the way life should be. And if it can't be so in real life, then, damn it, I'll make sure it's that way in the books I read.
Books I'm reading now:
Crazy for Love by Victoria Dahl
Earth by Jon Stewart