Did you just let Carl Kimlinger insult Jane Austen in his VIctorian Romance Emma review?
Did you really? I mean, seriously. I’m glad you liked it, it’s a wonderful series. But, really.
JANE.
AUSTEN.
Did you also put “Jane Austen” and “Harlequin-esque bodice rippers” in the same sentence, as if to imply that they were one and the same? (By the way, Harlequin novels are actually fairly tame compared to some of the other romance novels put out by specialty publishers. I would link pictures but it’s far more fun to just walk into the romance section of the bookstore and have a blast playing Bodice-Ripper Roulette–be sure to check the inside of the cover, if there’s a glossy sheet there, because that’s where they hide the really saucy I-hope-my-mother-never-sees-this stuff. I don’t think even Kanokon paraphenalia can outdo some of the covers I’ve seen)
Did you also let him by insinuation talk smack about Bram Stoker, Mary Shelley, and Arthur Conan Doyle too?
Who’s next? Edgar Allen Poe? Agatha Christie? Edgar Rice Burroughs? H.G. Wells? Charlotte Bronte?
WILL THE MADNESS NEVER END?
We are most certainly not amused.
I should go read some Jasper Fforde to curb my literary rage, but, alas, I think I am going to go watch Natsume Yuujinchou instead.
(ps: buy Victorian Romance Emma because it has my name in the credits!)
Anime wa Bakuhatsu da! 