Gore, goring, gored
GORE, n. and GORE, v. Neither of these words comes from Romance origins, but Spooky Season is upon us and this week’s reading had me thinking about horror. I was wondering if English’s verb meaning “to pierce with a horn or a weapon” was connected to English’s noun meaning “blood, violence,” and was very surprised to learn that the answer is no.
“Gore” the verb comes from Old English gār, “spear.” You might recognize this word in the opening lines of Beowulf, “Hwæt! We Gardena,” or “What! We of the Spear-Danes.” (I think we should start identifying our tribes by their weapon of choice again. The epic poem of my people would start “What! We of the Subtweets.”)
It doesn’t seem like a big conceptual leap to go from “gore” as spear-stabbing to “gore” as the inevitable result of spear-stabbing, but that’s not what happened. “Gore” the noun comes from Old English gor, meaning “dirt, dung, filth, muck.” Its meaning of “clotted blood” happens by the 1560s according to the Online Etymology Dictionary, associated with the general grossness of battle, and around the same time we get the adjective “gory.”
Eventually the “blood” meaning overtakes the original “dirt, filth” meaning. None of the dictionaries that I checked attributed this semantic shift to the homophone gore-the-verb, but it feels quite likely to me, the person with the authority to write this newsletter.
Did you know “Edward Gorey” was the artist’s real name? I always assumed it was a pen name.
In Capital-R Romance, I’ve been reading Paris à table by Eugène Briffault, which is not at all gory. I picked up this 1846 text on French gastronomy as research for my current draft. So far it’s been more about etiquette than food, but I’m not very far into it yet. Did you know you must put a rug over the marble floor of your dining room to muffle the sound of your servants’ footsteps as they carry food to your table? Sorry to everyone who’s ever been to my house.
This week in small-r romance, I read some gory things.
Note: I keep forgetting to put “sex” as a content warning, because it’s in almost everything I read. Then again, so are various flavors of violence, and I usually remember to warn for that. I’ll do better!
Threshold (m/m, both cis and gay, historical, fantasy) by Jordan L. Hawk. This is the second book in the Whyborne & Griffin series, which is perhaps better classified as fantasy/horror, since the 11-book series follows the same couple. (The first book is called Widdershins.) But I’m putting it here under romance because it does have a hugely important central love story. These books are set in the late nineteenth century in the US and each book has its own supernatural mystery to be solved. Obviously I love Whyborne, whose internal monologue sounds like this:
The repeating nature of the symbols convinced me this was indeed a system of writing. If only there was some way to know how ancient or recent the carving might be. I longed to have an accurate reproduction in my hands, to compare with other known systems […]
He’s an anxious gay linguist! They’re investigating a creepy-as-hell supernatural murder and he’s wishing for an accurate reproduction to compare with other known systems! This is exactly what I would be doing in those circumstances—which I hope never happens—in between bouts of strenuously wishing to get the fuck out of there. I love him.
I also love the other major characters, ex-Pinkerton detective Griffin Flaherty and Dr. Christine “I’m going to work on my manuscript, but send word if you need anyone shot” Putnam. The only reason I haven’t sped through the other nine books in the series is that I am a weenie and these books are full of body horror, so I’m taking it slow. Content warnings: gore, body horror, medical experimentation, many many supporting characters die, a major character has PTSD-related nightmares/flashbacks, mentions of period-typical homophobia, sex.
The Price of Meat (historical, horror, short story) by KJ Charles. This really is more horror than romance, but it felt appropriate to follow up Threshold with something else creepy—’tis the season—and this was one of the few things by KJ Charles I hadn’t read yet. Impeccable prose as always. Some truly shudder-inducing imagery in this, plus a fearless and competent lesbian heroine. Content warnings: gore, body horror, medical experimentation, cannibalism, murder.
Gilded Cage (cis ~het m/cis bi f, historical) by KJ Charles. I’ve talked before about how some books feel like they were magically tailored to my exact wishes, and Gilded Cage is exactly that. But I didn’t have to wish this book into existence; KJ Charles just gifted it to me. And you, of course. A historical romance with a smart, prickly bisexual private investigator who bosses around the large, smitten jewel thief who broke her heart seventeen years ago while she saves him from being framed for murder, and they pose as a couple on their honeymoon, and the sex is as amazing as the banter, and they work the case together, and she’s not pretty or sweet but he loves her so much. LOOK AT THIS:
“This is… I will die happy. I want to touch you.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“Vivid awareness of the eight-inch steel hatpins within easy reach.”
And that did it. That was joy. A man who asked was good, a man who touched her so worshipfully was better, but a man who noticed her precautionary weaponry and appreciated it—that shot straight through her nerves with a tingling glee […]
I also marked “Whatever weapon you pulled on Susan Lazarus, you always, always brought a knife to a gun fight” and the line of dialogue “If you had a crest it would be a hedgehog couchant,” so I guess there was a running theme to my highlights. Susan Lazarus, difficult woman, light of my life.
All that, and the book is cleverly connected to KJ Charles’s other series and features Justin Lazarus from An Unnatural Vice in a way that made me so emotional. Good parents are something of a rarity in genre fiction—fantasy and sci-fi often start with the farmhouse burning down, and in romance, well, Therese Beharrie said it best:
Therese Beharrie @ThereseBeharrie
Me, initiating new romance authors: And are your main characters' parents alive?
New author: They are.
Me: They are?
NA: They are.
Me: They...are?
NA: ...Yes.
Me: Are they?
NA: ...
Me, slamming my hands on the table: ARE THEY?
September 2nd 2019 79 Retweets 754 Likes
To make “people fall in love with each other” into a novel-length affair, you need conflict, and the core of that emotional conflict often stems from tragic backstory involving bad or absent parents. There’s nothing wrong with this—I love seeing romance explore all kinds of family dynamics. But all kinds includes good ones, too, and this book delivers found family in spades. It’s very satisfying to see, in Susan and Justin’s conversation, how their different upbringings shaped what they want from their partners. He never had anyone who could help or take care of him, so that’s what he wanted; she always had those things, so she wanted someone who would let her be herself. This kind of deep, thoughtful characterization is what makes “people fall in love with each other” endlessly interesting to me as a framework, and KJ Charles is a master. As soon as I finished this book, all I wanted was to start it over again. Content warnings: murder, violence, discussion of a main character’s miscarriage, sex.
P.S. The ~ in front “het” in this book’s description up top is because everyone in this book thinks Templeton has a crush on his partner in crime Jerry Crozier, and at a certain point you gotta start asking yourself if there might be something there.
Pretending He’s Mine (m/f, both cis and het, contemporary) by Mia Sosa. This is the only romance I read this week that didn’t have horror or suspense elements, which was a nice break for my poor scared brain, but damn if this wasn’t tense as hell anyway—in a fun, sexy, emotional way, not an “oh shit they’re gonna get murdered” way. I love a fake relationship, and this book introduces some nice twists to the trope in terms of who knows the truth and who doesn’t.
Julian is a Hollywood agent and his biggest client is the actor Carter Stone, who’s also a childhood friend. Carter’s little sister Ashley has had a crush on Julian for a long time, but she doesn’t want to live in her big brother’s shadow. Julian and Ashley are both lovable characters—with great dialogue—and they have an engaging journey of figuring out what they want from life, both in and outside of their relationship. Julian’s arc centers around fighting for better representation for actors of color, and Ashley decides to take a risk and share her music with the world. Even when they don’t have each other, they have friends and family and passions. Their “all is lost” break-up moment is wrenching, because you’re as desperate for them to get together as they are, but it’s never really “all is lost.” Life outside the relationship is something I love to see in romance novels.
Another tiny thing I love to see in romance novels is “one character is really into the other character even when that person is a disheveled mess,” and it makes a lovely appearance in this book. Content warnings: sex, discussions of childhood bullying, judgmental family members, discussions of racism in Hollywood, mentions of dementia.
And in other books, this week I finished beta reading a friend’s manuscript. Getting to see books before they’re completely finished and participate in the process of bringing them into the world is one of the pleasures of having other writers as close friends. The manuscript I read this week does not have a publication date yet, but it is the third installment in a series. The first book is Breaking the Ice by K.R. Collins, and it’s about Sophie Fournier, a pro hockey player in a fictional league that integrates women players into its men’s teams. Sophie’s the first, and she faces a lot of scrutiny. Her goal is to be good enough that other women will be allowed to play in the league, so she puts a lot of pressure on herself. The books follow her journey of learning to trust herself and her team, and accordingly, they have a lot of really great moments of found-family goodness in them.
By book 3 of the series, there are a few other women players in the league, and one of them is on Sophie’s team. They play well together on the ice, and off the ice they’re both best friends and roommates and Sophie’s heart goes pitter-patter every time Elsa smiles at her. What could it mean? You probably know the answer already, but Sophie definitely does not. Watching Sophie and Elsa’s blossoming relationship is deliciously agonizing. If this sounds like your sort of thing, please read these books and then come find me so we can shout about them together. Content warnings for Breaking the Ice: sexism, bullying, emotional abuse (Sophie’s dad is a huge jerk).
I also read a draft of my own forthcoming book out loud this week, seeking out typos and other inconsistencies, an activity I can neither avoid nor recommend. It’s way nicer to read other people’s books, which is why I write this newsletter.
Happy Halloween if you’re celebrating! As always, if you have questions or comments or requests for which words I should discuss in the future, you can reply to this email or @ me on twitter. And if you know someone who would enjoy this hodgepodge of etymology, history, romance novels, and whatever else I feel like, please forward this email or share the link with them.
