Spies Always Remember Their First

I was looking at my huge pile of books on the floor of my room, trying to figure out where I'm going to store them (the shelves are full, if you can't tell) because my assistant is insisting that they. Have. To. Be. Put. Away. I guess she's just tired of walking over and around them ;-). She did such a great job shoveling out my study, I dare not put anything in there in case it messes up the feng-shui. LOL. My books have this habit of multiplying by themselves, you see.

Anyway, when I am forced to pick up my books, then usually, I end up doing what I do best--book-playing. That is, I start to read parts of this and that book, and end up having a grand old time pulling off other books FROM the shelves because I remembered a scene I just have to read again. This is NOT conducive to book-arranging. In fact, I end up with even more books on the floor.

Today, while rereading some wonderful sections by all my favorite authors, I started to try to remember my first historical, my first suspense, etc. etc., to see how far back my memory went. It was a fun exercise since I had no idea what the titles of those old stories were...it'd been that long.

I started with historicals because that was my first love. I really enjoyed historical romances, the big epic style stuff that moved the heroine all over the world. To a child/pre-teen with limited pocket change, those world-traveling heroines who were always eighteen or even younger certainly seemed to have a more exciting lifestyle (okay, so I ignored stuff like being kidnapped, or being enslaved, or worse, having no money...). I was envious about the traveling.

Most people cite Sweet Savage Love by Rosemary Rogers as their first sojourn into historical romantic epics. Although it was one of my few dozen books, and definitely one of the more shocking ones since that was the first time sex was actually detailed, I remember another historical trilogy that really has haunted me through the years. I still try to find who the author or titles of those books were. They were probably not as good as I remember them, but the plot was different. The heroine was a slave girl just "imported" from Africa and she was sold for a very high price because she looked Caucasian, except that her eyes were black. The hero first saw her when she was a mere child.

The plot took this heroine through her captivity and of course, she later married the hero. In those older historicals, the romance was done very, very slowly, sort of like a Danielle Steel book, with the heroine moving all over the world in her quest for "freedom" or "love" or "revenge."

The second book of that trilogy dealt with the daughter of the couple from the first book. She was very beautiful, like her mother, and there was some kind of a forced marriage/seduction. She gave birth to a black child and was, of course, banished (?) or rejected by her husband. The child was stillborn. In tho seventies, romances allowed their heroines to die too, and I remember reading about the first book's heroine's death while traveling with her husband.

Then the third book dealt with this last child, who was, of course, not stillborn at all. He as the first secret baby theme I read, I guess! He grew up and he was very "dark-skinned," but just enough to give him that Wuthering Height's Heathcliffe look. Of course, he had a lot of revenge in mind too.

I've always wondered about these three books because I wanted to reread them, to see whether they were still as interesting to me now as they were then. No doubt, there would be tons of things that I wouldn't like any more, like when I reread Sweet Savage Love or The Flame and The Flower, but I still enjoyed those latter books, even the hero-raping-heroine scenes. I grew up reading those books so there is no raging feminist screaming in my head that I'm being politically incorrect to even pick the book up ;-P.

I also loved straight biographical historicals. One of my favorites was a book on Cleopatra. It probably had the worst beginning ever for a book but I thought it was pretty cool at that time. It spent perhaps a whole page going..."I, Cleopatra, daughter of blah-blah, descendent to blah-blah, queen of blah-blah, sister to blah-blah, Empress of blah-blah..." on and on. Told you it wouldn't work today! But I was very impressed, LOL, and wanted to be Cleopatra myself after reading that book. Even back then I loved kick-ass heroines! Oh, and it was my first first-person book, and I didn't find it limiting or boring or distracting. It was just very different. And of course, it was cool to be Queen Cleopatra in my head.

My first suspense/mystery book (and I meant adult stuff, not Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew mysteries) was another series of detective books that I have no clue who the author was. The name of the hero was Napoleon Bonaparte and he wasn't particularly handsome, just damn smart. I don't remember any element of romance in those books. But they gave me an idea how books could be plotted differently, with no traveling all the world or great big adventure, just a man and his mind.

Then a title popped up out of nowhere that made me laugh. I believe also, that I read my first chick lit way back in 1978! Amazing that I even remembered the title! It was called Coffee, Tea, or Me, a cutesy and suggestive title with the story about an air-hostess and her crazy adventures. Yes, this was during the days when we called them air-hostesses and they were all tall, model-figured women with pleasant demeanors who would offer you more than peanuts, heehee. But anyway, I don't think I even got through the first chapter of that book but the title stayed in my head. Funny how I still can't get through the first chapter of most chick lits these days. Funny too, that I still love their titles today--very sexy and cutesy, just like this old book.

The first book that scared the heck out of me was something by Stephen King. Can't remember what it was. Just that his imagination scared mine! LOL.

I'm going back to when I was probably just twelve or fourteen here, so I have no idea how accurate I am. But I still see the book covers and remember parts of scenes that I'd reread. In essence, I haven't really changed much as a reader. I loved my romances very sexy and very emotional, and I still do today. I wanted bad boys ;-) ala Steve Morgan (SSL) and I still want him today! Even when he's actually a rapist in today's environment. Ah well. Fantasies.

Which brings me to the shape-shifting paranormal genre. I don't think I've ever thought vampires sexy till I read Interview With A Vampire, which even my then boyfriend recommended. Of course, he thought it was an intellectually interesting read because of all the talk about life and the meaning of death, etc., but hey, all I wanted was bad boy Lestat to kick Louis' ass!

Ann Rice's Ramses The Dead was probably the first romance-paranormal that really, really opened my eyes, that expanded my very conservative idea of human-specy romances. LOL There was no looking back. Today, Laurell K. Hamilton still rules in my horror-romance reading.

No, I didn't accomplish my goal of putting away my books. And now I feel like googling on the internet for those long lost stories. It's fun to book play!

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