Get Your Death Out of My Flowers!

My beloved wife has a post where she dispenses wisdom (or, at least, opinion) on a recent bit of turbulence in the flowing stream of the romance novel genre.

Time was when the Romance section of the bookstore was a safe and cozy retreat from all things unfrivolous. Sure, there might be an occasional gothic or mystery romance with a terrifying moment, but one could basically rely on the fact that any book you took off the shelves would be sugar and like, like standing in the confectionary section of a bakery.
 
Not anymore.

 Read the whole thing here

My comment: I don’t have any comments about romance novels except (1) as a genre, hearts-and-flowers books have more dignity and antiquity than my genre, which is spaceship-and-raygun fiction (2) you can certainly see more about what women really think and what they really think about by looking at this form of fiction aimed at the tastes particular to the fairer sex. There is a process and an art to falling in love that menfolk are by and large unaware of. On the other hand, if you want to find out what guys really think about, read a slaughter novel, such as THE ELECTROCUTIONER #31–Manslaughter in Marrakesh!