by Paisley Smith
I screened this several times before I bought a copy, but somehow my brain duped itself into thinking that this was a historical novel with some LGBT romance thrown in. Not so--it was an LGBT historical romance novel. Which is all my fault. I'm not really into romance novels these days--never was, not even in the days when romance meant romance, not sex, explicit, rough and often. I'm not a prude about it and I thought the sex was pretty well done, but, enough already.
By the way, when did "I love you" become a synonym for "we had good sex and I want to go on having more sex with you"? Maybe it's always meant that and I just didn't get it. (I'm not criticizing the book here, just making fun of the human race.)
Anyway, back to the book. It reads fast. It has some intriguing things to say about guilt and fairness and deep south lifestyles in the 1950s. If the author didn't have an annoying habit of throwing in deeply, profoundly introspective one-liners at odd moments, I might have given it three stars. The "show, don't tell" rule is made to be broken, but not with phrases like, "In love. With a woman. Could she possibly be?" Boring.
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