No, Susan, you cannot.
*These are real books. That I have read. I’m happy to tell you all about them. Compulsively.
While some might chalk that addiction up to an extreme lack of literary sophistication, or perhaps a very rare mental condition, I like to delude myself that attribute it to a deep-seated need to be prepared for any and all romantic eventualities. Because this is the real world, and not all encounters are going to be your garden variety office nemesis hookups, accidental rock star marriages or artisanal blueberry compote crafter meet-cutes. One of these days the shit is gonna get real, and I will thank my lucky stars that I know that answers to the following crucial questions:
- If one’s lover steps directly out of a painting, are the parts not rendered still anatomically correct?
- Is selling one’s virginity a viable way to pay for a friend’s medical care?
- Does amnesia make you forget you are straight?
- How do gay mermen have sex?
- What is the most passive aggressive way to snare your mate involving a rodeo clown?
Recently, one of my old crazy-fic-picks “Transcendence” by Shay Savage has had a renaissance of interest, exposing a new generation of readers to the delights of this romance between a pre-verbal language caveman (Ehd) and a mysterious woman (Beh) who wandered into his animal trap. If you are tempted to think “that doesn’t sound so cray,” let me drop some additional info into the equation: 1) the woman is from, like, 10,000 years in the future, and 2) the story is told from the point of view of the CAVEMAN WHO CANNOT TALK.
Shhhh, just let the crazy wash over you . . .
This book dared to answer the questions:
- How much mint is required to combat caveman stink?
- How many mate “mouth sounds” does it take to induce a caveman headache?
- Do even caveman think the Jordache brand is so last Ice Age?
- And, most importantly, can a broken caveman learn how to “luhff” again?
For all of you who have been bitten by the Transcendence bug (#BehluffsEhd – you know it!), and are in need of a crazy af romance fix, here are a few of my top picks:
Day and Knight – Dirk Greyson
This book, whose very title comes straight from the mind of Stephen J. Cannell, follows the story of two closeted agents (DAYton and the mysterious, mononymous Knight) who are sent to a Central American country in order to thwart a cyber-terror plot against the United States. This all sounds pretty rote until the secret agency that employs them determines that the only way they can enter the fictional country undetected is by posing as a couple and traveling on a gay cruise!
YES! Whaaaaa?
Where most people would read this and say things like: “How is that the most discreet way to enter a foreign country?,” ” Doesn’t this organization have top-secret radar-evading helicopters or boats?,” and “For chrissakes, riding a Segue into the jungle would make more sense!,” I look at this and say “THAT IS ONLY LOGICAL SOLUTION!”
I had to read this book to find out the answers to these and other crucial questions:
- Are the agents forced travel around the ship via conga line?
- Are the villains members of the gay mafia, or the Streisand mafia?
- Are there any embarrassing dining misunderstandings around the phrase “sausage party?” (“We meant andouille,” explains the exasperated maitre d’ to an elegant dining room packed with naked , buff men wearing only starched collars and bow ties.)
And, most importantly, how do the two heavily closeted men (one still mourning a dead wife and son) accidentally hook up? Do they encounter rough seas while the agents are bathing in a common shower, causing a power outage and the ship to cant sharply to the port side, and only after the lights are restored do they discover to their horror (and dawning excitement) that Knight’s P has accidentally become lodged in Day’s B?
I made this gif. You’re welcome.
This is a thing I need to know!
I will not spoil this for you except to say that there is a Top Gun style shirtless beach volleyball match, and that the sticky stuff that coats their torsos when they wake up in bed together one morning is not dried sea spray.
Fortunately for cray-lovers this is the first in a series of adventures with these characters. Tragically, none of them of them are an M/M/M romance thriller titled “Bacon, Lettis and Tamayto.” (Dear author, please get on that)
Rock Star Baby – Erin M. Leaf
Among all the “what the hell are you thinking” nay-sayers, the “I’m too good for that hot mess”-ers, and the “how are you not institutionalized” factions, I know there are some of you who are saying “these storylines are way too realistic! What I want is a book that reads like someone dropped Jacob/Edward slash-fic, a porn knockoff of Braveheart and Call of the Wild into blender, digitized the pieces and turned it into a word cloud!”
What he said.
For those of you wanting to achieve the ultimate enlightenment on the subject of the absurd allow me to present: Rock Star Baby
This fatabulistic cacophony of fiction features a gay shifter (Bardulf) who attends a meet and greet with a gay rocker (Ryan) in place of his sister, only to find that the rocker is his true mate. But there are complications ahead for these 2! The rocker discovers to his surprise that he is gay and also has shifter blood within the span of 5 minutes, as a mutual wanking sesh not only leaves him sated, but covered in fur and obsessed with chasing his tail (for realz). In the midst of all of this crazy, Ryan has a moment where he proves that he just gets me:
If he was going to turn gay in a fraction of an instant, he was going to fucking enjoy it as much as possible.”
Yesssssssssssss.
They are torn apart way too soon as Bardulf has to go home to attend to shifter council business, while Ryan has to finish his rock and roll tour, putting them both in danger! Bardulf is forced to defend himself not only from his homophobic dad, who is enraged that he and his mate will not produce an heir (or will they?), but also from sinister forces trying to take control of his clan. Ryan, struggles to figure out both the “being gay” thing and the “being a wolf” thing alone, while fending off attacks from random packs he meets on his tour. So much drama!!!
The story reveals key insights into these and other great mysteries:
- Is there a synthetic derivative of wolfsbane that is specifically tuned to werewolf psychology in order to produce dementia?
- Is there a creative way for a rocker to incorporate his massive, mate-induced boner into his guitar solo?
- Can a closeted gay male alpha-werewolf shifter get pregnant by his recently-turned rocker mate?
- And if so, how the f*ck does the baby get out?
RIGHT?
(Spoiler alert: anyone hoping for a little gender-parity in the “baby size to birthing hole” ratio will be sorely disappointed)
Suffice it to say, this is a must-read for anyone who fears they, or someone they love, may accidentally end up instantly gay and a werewolf someday. You know who you are.
Ice Cube sees you. Do not disappoint him. Read the book.
Although I am poking fun at my ridicu-fic obsession, let me make something very clear: I loved these books. Are they well written? Not really. Are they actually less crazy (and a fuckton more fun) than your average weekday front page of the New York Times right now? Definitely. Will the information you glean from them someday save your life? Quite possibly. Are they are a great excuse for day drinking?
HELLS YEAH
So grab a book of cray, a cocktail, and your willful suspension of disbelief, and enjoy the ride!
And never forget: #BehluhffsEhd4eva
