So there I am, sitting at my computer, when I glance over at my bookshelf and realize that my books are growing mold. o_O !! I didn’t think that happened in real life. It’s like really heavy-handed symbolism, straight from the pages of some moody gothic novel.
This is not about romance novels; as a genre, they don’t interest me because I don’t believe in an ideology that privileges romantic love over everything else. In fact, I will vengefully excoriate any book that fosters such ideals. That said, love enriches human lives, both real and fictional, and there’s a lot to be said about the writing of it.