Imagine reading a mainstream, highly praised novel set in the present were white people own black people. The characters repeatedly use a litany of racist black inferiority stereotypes page after page.

And that’s the whole book.

There’s no reckoning. No conflict. No emancipation. Life goes on as if this is just the normal state of things. It’s as if somebody created a racist Lake Wobegon and nobody bothered to challenge it.

The book would quickly and rightly be completely shamed.

And yet somehow in 2013 the misogynistic equivalent of this was printed. Published. Sold on Amazon and others.

This fundamentally flawed, backwards attitudes and thoughts regurgitation of one of the most crippling clichés in heterosexual romantic relationships was presented as reputable literature.

Do you, as a woman, because let’s face it no man is going to voluntarily read this, need another author normalizing this dysfunctional masochistic relationship pattern that’s already hailed as the way things should be in eons of other popular culture songs, videos and books:

Woman falls for “free spirit” (euphemism alert: should say “emotionally unavailable/commitment phobic”) exotic bad boy. Tries to tame him using unconditional (and unrequited love). After completely giving up every vestige of her own life to immerse herself completely in his, both literally and metaphorically, he discards her (in this case, again, literally)–usually in an underhanded passive aggressive way–until way way way later making some pronouncement of the incredible impact she had on his life. To no avail, of course. He’s married with kids anyway. So it’s way too late.

Except its not too late for her. Because now she can get a self-esteem boost and maybe even closure knowing she served the ultimate goal of womanhood: to be useful to a man no matter how fleeting or what the cost to her. Like an accelerant for fire: momentarily crucial then completely consumed in the process.

If it sat on the Harlequin Romance shelf sandwiched between “Beloved Rogue” and “The Vixen’s Revenge” (yup, real books both) I wouldn’t be so critical. No one goes to Comic Con thinking a few yards of red satin affixed to their costume will let them jump safely off the roof.

But no.

This was categorized as literature with critics from Kirkus, Paris Match and others actually praising it. Happily I‌ could find no mention of it from The New York Times, London Review of Books, Bookforum or other sources I profoundly respect.

Finally, winning a tie with the preceding two items for the most offensive part of this novel:‌ The author cloaks this tired romantic trope in a cloak of the timely serious issues of racism and nationalism seemingly to add gravitas or legitimacy to what is otherwise going straight to the $1 cart at The Strand.

Five thumbs down. ( )

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