Hot Head (Head #1)
I
have a personal bias when it comes to romance novels. For the most part I feel
emotionally distant when the author is male (and don’t get me started on
Nicolas Sparks—whatever accolades he’s received, he’s gotten none from me, nor
is he waiting. So we’re good). And I don’t even have to know from the jump, it’s
almost as if word for word they reveal their gender. Opinions and posterior
orifice, yeah-yeah, I know the drill (no pun intended). If I ever get published
this bit of masturbatory diatribe is certain to come back and bite me in the
nether region—praise pseudonyms—I’ve got to get me one of those.
Okay
wow. And wow some more. Damon Suede’s “Hot Head” still has me wowing. Not so
much the title, but the novel more than compensated. I’m not quite at the — point, but I liken
myself to “The Vistor,” from the DS9 episode. Yes, I’m a trekkie. And please
don’t get me started with the PC BS. I’m an old Hispanic trekkie, not hardly a
mature Latina “Star Trek” aficionado-whatever. But like the visitor I would
gladly knock on Mr. Suede’s door to tell him how his words were so beautifully
moving—from the heartbreaking references to 911 (yes, I’m a native New Yorker),
to the repeated refines in narrative that twisted at my insides and eviscerated
me. “Tell him you love him,” was never so powerfully written as in Mr. Suede’s
novel. So clearly is he the exception, he makes me want to throw away the rule.
No comments:
Post a Comment