Self-control of a rabid weasel ...

[d_aulnoy]

So, since the insomnia-monster had me in its jaws last night, I went back to my comfort books: I reread the first two of the old LKH novels.  And, you know what?  I wasn't imagining their appeal in some sort of a poignant nostalgic glow ("Ah, the lost days of my youth, when vampires were cool!").  They really *are* good books, and the vampires are the least of it.  I love the world-building - from the existence of "The Animator" to the possibility of getting a degree in prenatural biology to the details that go into the nature of homo arcanus - but what I love(d) most was the sense of having this sort of an ... alter ego, not to put it to egotistically.  I *liked* reading about this mean, funny little woman with violent tendencies, this broad who carried her dysfunctional background with her everywhere she went like so much carry-on baggage, this lady who didn't have the time or the energy to deal with men who insisted that she conform to some image that they had about what women should be - feminine, pretty, quiet. 
I will admit (guiltily, after my last little rant on this subject) that I actually bought Cravings, the paranormal romance collection that features LKH's name prominently on the cover.  It was the triumph of hope over experience ... after all, how much smut could one person fit into a an 85 page story?  You'd need some space for plot, right?
Wrong.  It was *awful.*  I'm not even going to give you the details, but one character encourages Anita to expand her "heram," because, all together, they're just like having a "wife."  You know, someone for sex, someone for professional support, someone for house-keeping ...  I have nothing against polygamy: I have nothing against gendered household roles being reassigned.  It's just that ... I don't give a rat's ass about domesticity, and I don't want to read about it.  This ... female ... who's taken over the role formerly played by Anita Blake sets my teeth on edge.  It honestly has me on the wrge of wanting to write my first ever piece of fanfiction ... starring, say, Lt. Mary Soo, RPIT's newest member, who goes to the Executioner for assistance, finds her debauched and uncaring, in the middle of some grand bacchanal, is sent off alone, discovers Anita's involvement in the nefarious deed which initially caught her fancy, and puts her (and us) out of her misery.  Her "heram" too.  And the little dogs they rode in on!  [pant]
And, part of me wonders if, in some ways, I'm interfering with authorial license by feeling this way: this would be the part of me that reads docbrite 's journal.  I loved Poppy Z. Brite's gothic pieces when I was ... well, pretty much at the same point where I loved LKH.  I actually loved them a great deal *more,* simply because while I could empathize with LKH's characters, I *recognized* PZB's, or rather, recognized their characteristics: the unspoken terrors attached to acceptance, the innocent vanity of the transgressor, the amoral lasciviousness ... PZB caught what it was like to be a teenager and an outsider.  However, does this mean that I hate her for turning her style ass over teakettle?  Um, no.  In fact, I'm very glad that she did: while I can relate to the world of restaraunteurs less so than to the world of goth kiddies, these novels retain all of the details (actually, reading over Drawing Blood, recently, I found myself smirking over the sensory descriptions of food, and particularly the market scene; talk about your foreshadowing!) and sensitivity that had me feeling that I could immerse myself in her words, that made me want to visit N'Awlins (pretentiousness intended).  PZB's books are, well, "good 'riting," no matter where they're set or what they cover ... so long as she's happy (cause I have to say that the last few short story collections after Exquisite Corpse struck me as stinkers - all gore, no feeling). 
I dunno.  Maybe I'm right up there with the trippie black-clad whiners when I say that I'm sad to see a beloved series go down the tubes.  Maybe I'm wrong to assume that LKH has lost interest in her subject matter and is just hacking them out at this point.  Maybe she really, really loves the metamorphosis that Anita is undergoing, and is happy to never have to go into whatever happened to the granny who knew voudon, of how the hell Anita ever got into this weird profession in the first place, or what's up with Brewster's Law ... maybe it's more fun to write about kinky sex.  All I know is, it's not more fun to read it.  I officially give up.