Imagine
yourself as a pre-pubescent girl in 1987 (or, not). Unlike my contemporaries, I
was not into the Sweet Valley High books. A pair of rich blond 16-year-old
twins, who couldn’t be more different. Jessica was wild and outgoing (probably
a little slutty); Elizabeth was shy and reserved; both loved boys, boys, boys.
Oh! The antics! That wasn’t me; I was a rebel. I was smarter than that, my
tastes more sophisticated. I loved fine literature. I loved history. I yearned
for fine, historical literature. Enter the Sunfire romance novels.
The Sunfire series was exactly what the previous sentence suggested, and they were geared towards teenage girls (I was a very advanced 11-year-old). These books were hopelessly (surely purposely) formulaic. Each book centered around a 15- or 16-year-old girl, with their first names as the title. In each book, the heroine would be pursued by two suiters: one, the young man her family expected her to marry; the other, a mysterious young man her family did not expect her to marry. (Spoiler alert: she almost always went with the other guy. Scandalous!).
Were they lame? Yeah, definitely; I knew this even when I was a kid. What made them page-turners were the historical settings. Rachel (duh, my favorite) was a Polish immigrant, who toiled in the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory. Merrie was a Pilgrim. Sabrina lived through the Revolutionary War. Corey escaped slavery during the War of Northern Aggression (couldn’t help myself). Cassie was a blond chick, abducted by the Iroquois when she was a wee tot, and raised as one of them (because that shit happened all the time). Yadda, yadda, yadda…you get the idea.
This core group of writers did their homework, as far as fine details regarding setting were concerned. They were meticulous in their descriptions of fabrics, smells, architecture, clothing, color, food etc. Silly as it sounds, these books actually contributed to my dream of being a writer. It didn’t matter how basic and insipid the actual storylines were; the intrigue was all in the details. I mean, how can one effectively write a scent or a taste? How can a simple thought become virtually tactile, through words alone? How can a book be a time machine? How the fuck can that even happen? How can a person who can pull that off ever be taken for granted?
I went from the Sunfire books to Stephen King, shortly before I was first committed (I’m pretty sure one had nothing to do with the other). I still can’t make popcorn without thinking about Cassie (I think that that’s marginally powerful).
Here’s an interesting aside to chew on: I looked up the Sunfire books on Amazon several months ago, and they were nestled among a slew of BDSM titles. That has since been remedied, but I wonder how long it took before someone said "eh...might want to fix that." Bearing that it mind, it's probably a good thing that Amazon wasn't a thing in 1987. I did just find in the depraved mind department without any encouragement, thank you very much.
The Sunfire series was exactly what the previous sentence suggested, and they were geared towards teenage girls (I was a very advanced 11-year-old). These books were hopelessly (surely purposely) formulaic. Each book centered around a 15- or 16-year-old girl, with their first names as the title. In each book, the heroine would be pursued by two suiters: one, the young man her family expected her to marry; the other, a mysterious young man her family did not expect her to marry. (Spoiler alert: she almost always went with the other guy. Scandalous!).
Were they lame? Yeah, definitely; I knew this even when I was a kid. What made them page-turners were the historical settings. Rachel (duh, my favorite) was a Polish immigrant, who toiled in the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory. Merrie was a Pilgrim. Sabrina lived through the Revolutionary War. Corey escaped slavery during the War of Northern Aggression (couldn’t help myself). Cassie was a blond chick, abducted by the Iroquois when she was a wee tot, and raised as one of them (because that shit happened all the time). Yadda, yadda, yadda…you get the idea.
This core group of writers did their homework, as far as fine details regarding setting were concerned. They were meticulous in their descriptions of fabrics, smells, architecture, clothing, color, food etc. Silly as it sounds, these books actually contributed to my dream of being a writer. It didn’t matter how basic and insipid the actual storylines were; the intrigue was all in the details. I mean, how can one effectively write a scent or a taste? How can a simple thought become virtually tactile, through words alone? How can a book be a time machine? How the fuck can that even happen? How can a person who can pull that off ever be taken for granted?
I went from the Sunfire books to Stephen King, shortly before I was first committed (I’m pretty sure one had nothing to do with the other). I still can’t make popcorn without thinking about Cassie (I think that that’s marginally powerful).
Here’s an interesting aside to chew on: I looked up the Sunfire books on Amazon several months ago, and they were nestled among a slew of BDSM titles. That has since been remedied, but I wonder how long it took before someone said "eh...might want to fix that." Bearing that it mind, it's probably a good thing that Amazon wasn't a thing in 1987. I did just find in the depraved mind department without any encouragement, thank you very much.
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