Musings on anything. |
I just finished a romance novel by Cheryl Biggs. She was prolific. This one was The Cowboy She Never Forgot, a modern novel about a female cop who fell in love with a rodeo cowboy. It was copyrighted 1999. I didn't mind reading about the horses, the barrel racing, or the bull-riding. Nicholas Sparks did one about a cowboy with a ranch in North Carolina. Biggs' story is in Reno. However, I did encounter a lot of what made me avoid romance novels for most of my life. One of my goals this year is to read more genres, and this book is one I found at home, probably one of my mom's books. She would read anything, except a Russian novel--too long. I kept putting it down, and thinking, "Man, this kind of young love is too hard. Who wants all that intrigue and heartbreak? Too much game playing." Then I would try just to finish it. It was repetitive. It actually had whole sections reprinted word for word, but in italics, as the character remembered a conversation or the sensations. Maybe people in a tortured relationship do relive a moment over and over, but don't make me do it. Near the end, when the stubborn, self-centered,but handsome sexy man is walking out, I'm thinking "Good. I hope he stays away. He's not good enough for her." Yet, she throws aside her pride and goes after him anyway. You know after 200 pages, they're going to get together one way or another. Very quickly, at the end, the man does dome to the shocking revelation that he is pig-headed and a fool. They make up and ride off into the sunset, each allowing the other to have a life choice, but both making compromises. They live happily ever after, Meanwhile, the police case is solved, everyone gets what's coming to them, jail or true love, buckles and titles. (Did you know a rodeo groupie is called a "buckle bunny"? It was new to me.) It was okay. But I don't want a steady diet of romances. |