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July 16, 2011

Kathy Miller Haines Guest Blogs

We have Harry Potter to thank for getting kids to read again.  But terrific YA authors keep young readers returning to libraries for more books.  And parents have started picking up YA titles--first, perhaps to check what kids are reading, but more and more because the stories make for great reading.  Please give a TLC welcome to Kathryn Miller Haines, who may write young adult books now, but her heart is . . . smutty. In a nice way, of course.

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The Girl is Murder, my first YA mystery, comes out on Tuesday (woot!) In preparation for the release, I’ve been doing interviews, where I’m inevitably asked, “what were your favorite books when you were growing up?”

Here’s what they want to hear: Nancy Drew. Great hook after all, right? Girl wowed by girl detective grows up to write books featuring a new girl detective. And it’s true that I read and enjoyed Nancy Drew, along with lots of books by other writers like Judy Blume, Katherine Patterson, Francine Pascal, and Lois Duncan. But I’m going to tell you a secret: by the time I hit my teens, what I wanted and what I sought out was smut, plain and simple.

Please keep in mind, I mean smut in the nicest way possible. These books took talent to write: complicated plots, detailed genealogies, research into estate law, blood diamonds, and the British military during World War II. But what drew me to people like Sidney Sheldon and that Grande Dame of the lurid, V.C. Andrews, wasn’t the careful plotting, but murder, incest, rape, and romance where the screen didn’t fade to black at the first kiss, but instead the camera lingered on all the naughty details (Nipples! Quivering! Throbbing manhood!)

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 [Aside: have you seen Game of Thrones? We just finished a marathon of season one and I kept thinking this is medieval V.C. Andrews sprinkled with some fantasy elements.]

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 I loved the complicated, dye-cut covers where everything appeared wholesome on the outside, but on the inside, when the outer cover was lifted and the stepback revealed, the beautiful heroine was in jeopardy, her physical position a little too intimate toward her equally attractive brother, her innocent face tacked onto a surprisingly come-hither body with measurements Barbie would’ve envied. And the names of those innocent, yet alluring, women! Dawn, Melody, Ruby, Heaven (and, of course, Cathy – how lucky was I to have my own name among this cavalcade of strip club headliners?)

I wish I knew what drew me to these stories. Certainly not the siren call of feminism. These were all women abused in some fashion, often by the men in their lives, whose attempts to rise through the ranks were continually thwarted by a Dark Secret in Their Past (often one that occurred in the generations before, but which continues to Haunt Them to This Day).  No one had happy endings, not really. The good died way too young and tragically (car accidents, arsenic poisoning, childbirth), the bad were eventually defeated but their crimes lingered and continued to hurt those who survived. And our heroines were often forced to do unforgiveable things, marring their own morality for the next generation to be marked by.

I suppose it was adolescent sexual curiosity mixed with a desire to escape my secure, middle-American existence that made me want read about these things.  And I had an endless supply of them, thanks to an older sister who left a trail of mass market paperbacks from her bedroom, to the lawn chair where she spent her summer afternoons baking beneath a glaze of coconut-scented Coppertone lotion.

For years, I thought I was alone in my love of these books, so it was a great relief to discover a few years ago that I was in fact one of thousands (millions?) of young women who dog-eared copies of these books or were warned against them by parents who knew what dwelled between their covers. I wasn’t a pervert, I was part of the cultural zeitgeist!

So what about you? What forbidden books found their way onto your bedside tables during your formidable years?

Go to fullsize image Kathryn Miller Haines is an actor, an award-winning playwright and the author of the Rosie Winter mystery series. BookList gave The Girl is Murder a starred review, saying, it's "a smart offering that gives both mysteries and historical fiction a good name."  Read an excerpt here.

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Forbidden books? By the time my parents realized I was reading, I'd already read their books and the neighbors'. Truthfully they didn't have many, and most seemed very old. They smelled moldy, but they worked. I was surprised when I started school and smelled a new book. The teacher wanted to know why I kept sniffing it. She thought I had a tic, I think, and sent me to the nurse's office. The nurse drove me to the doctor's office. The doctor said, "Why do you smell the books?" I told him they smell good. The nurse drove me back to school.

When we moved to a town with a library, I would sneak over there and wait for the librarian to turn her back. Then I would slip into the adults' reading room. It wasn't for "Adult" reading. It just had books restricted to reading by people 21 and up. I usually got caught and was escorted to the children's section. I would feign thanks for being shown to the children's room and slowly work my way back by from Children to Youth to Adult. I couldn't check these books out, so I found ways to hide them and sneak them into the kids reading room. Great fun, really. My own little baby thriller.

THE CARPETBAGGERS and THE INHERITORS by Harold Robbins. Hot, steamy stuff for the time.

I, THE JURY, by Mickey Spillane, and the infamous final scene, complete with Charlotte taking off her panties.

THE SPY WHO LOVED ME was the one Fleming I didn't read until I was much older. A fairly graphic description of the female sexual climax meant that particular 007 adventure mysteriously vanished.

In the 6th grade, I had Love Story taken away from me by a nun. (Okay, so I was reading it in math class.) That was about as wild as I got. My mother read Emilie Loring romance novels, so so did I. Even my reading life is lame.

Good luck with the new book! I love Rose Winters, so am expecting more good stuff.

I was never "forbidden" any books--my family trusted me to read whatever I liked, with the result that my tastes turned out somewhat...eclectic. I'll never forget the look on my grandmother's face when I was just six or seven years old, and she found me reading a book about Jack the Ripper.

And, of course, when I discovered Poe at the age of eight, it was all over for me.

My very conservative parents (and I mean that in the sociological, not political sense) made the huge mistake of subscribing to the Book of the Month Club.

I discovered Sidney Sheldon, Harold Robbins, and other books-destined-to-be-miniseries before my Mom even had a chance to read them. One summer, I took the book cover from a literary tome and simply used it to cammo whatever trash I was reading. It helped that I kept reading snippets of the tome and sprinkling comments about it.

Now our kids read online. Not sure I even want to know.

Mazel Tov and best of luck on the new series, Kathy! I loved your Rosie Winter books and will be one of the grown-ups reading your new series!

Harold Robbins wrote the steamiest, seamiest novels! I seem to remember a lot of pointy busts from The Carpetbagger, which I read when I was a freshman in high school.

My mother kept a copy of Candy in her underwear drawer, so naturally I read it. Oh. My. God. It was weird, and extremely pornographic, but in a weird, almost nonsexual way. Almost.

Good topic, Kathy. Good luck with your newest book!

There were no such things as banned books in my house when I was growing up. There is a copy of the ALA Banned Book study guide now. I am reading more YA, Princess One hasn't look at much yet.

When I was in Israel, our bus driver was reading a paperback with a hot pink cover with just a title and author on it. It took us a second to read the Hebrew. He was reading The Betsy by Harold Robbins.

Don't recall any Cathy's on stage at a strip club, but if you can swing a TLC stipend, I'll do the research.

When I was nine we lived in the country and library visits in the summer were few and far between. After the seventeenth time I whined "I'm booored..." my mom handed me a Harlequin romance and said, "Don't tell your father." It isn't as bad as it sounds. At that time the books usually had just one kiss, often at the wedding at the end of the book. Still, it started my love for books about, well, love. I remember finding my mom's Kathleen E. Woodiwiss novel, "Shanna," when I was twelve. I hid in the sweltering attic to read it, followed by "Ashes in the Wind." Talk about forbidden!

Thanks for the research offer, Alan. I'll send a fistful of ones your way to prove my datapoint.

Can you believe I've never even heard of Harold Robbins? I just googled him and it was revelatory. Ya'll have provided my adolescent self with years of potential reading material.

I was held captive in Lincoln, Nebraska, which is pretty conservative, but my family was Artistic, and so nothing was forbidden.

That said, the book that Explained it All to me was THE GODFATHER. Sonny Corleone and the bridesmaid of his sister Connie getting it on upstairs right after the wedding. Be still, my beating . . . heart.

God's Little Acre, Parrish, the books of Anya Seton, the Sins of Rachel Cade, all helped enlarge my mother's non-existent Talk about sex and intimacy.

Lady Chatterley's Lover was the biggie. My brother lived a couple of houses down from my HS. They went to Europe for a couple of weeks and I would check on their house during lunch hour and after school while I was waiting for the bus home. I was a fast reader so I got it read before they returned home.

I can't remember much except for the Happy Holisters and the Oz books. Everything else was school related.
My dad read the newspaper and reads The Readers Digest to this day. No books.
My mom's mom started reading romance paperbacks from the senior center but I never got to see them.
I guess The National Geographic was the most risque' thing in the house.
Again...no books for pleasure that I ever saw.

"The Grapes of Wrath," forbidden by the Catholic Legion of Decency because of its "communist" leanings.
"Peyton Place," forbidden by my mother, who read it and tore each page in half. My brother and I reassembled it in the basement and read it.

All I learned about sex I learned not in kindergarten but in True Confessions Magazine.
We were so sheltered as kids that it is truly a wonder that we evolved sanely in this crazy world.
I saw the ultimate YA movie yesterday..Harry Potter. One kissing scene sent the young kids in the movie theatre gasping and hooting.
We saw the episodes of Game of Thrones and got the book which my DH is enjoying.
Bodice rippers was something I discovered as a retiree. Now I seek romantic suspense and thrillers.
Reading is fun and delicious.

I love the image of you reassembling Peyton Place in your basement, Elaine!

My wonderful niece just introduced me to Laurie Anderson's _Speak_ and _Catalyst_. Students brought me _The Giver_, and the school librarian found _Bridge to Terabithia_ for me (when a parent wanted to ban it) and recommended _The Hunger Games_ . . and _Harry Potter_.
YA Lit is real and engaging, as it should be, since young adults deal with very adult problems.

Oh, MARJORIE MORNINGSTAR. And TEN NORTH FREDERICK.

Valley ofthe Dolls! And what was the one--oh, The Other Side of Midnight!

And all the JAmes BOnds of course.

What fun to think about!

Oh yes -- Other Side of Midnight. I think that was my first Sidney Sheldon, God bless 'im. And I still have the library copy of Marjorie Morningstar that I...er..."forgot" to return.

Storyteller Mary, I think you just listed all of my favorite, legit YA books. I still can't read Bridge to Terabithia without sobbing -- that book just slays me. And Laurie Halse Anderson is one of the big reasons I wanted to write YA. If you haven't read Wintergirls yet, give it a shot.

I had heard of The Betsy and Harold Robbins. In Israel, it had a more "porn" cover, no artwork.

One day, I introduced a sweet innocent, impressionable high school girl to one of my favorite authors. Said HS student found the book so racy she felt the need to tell the priest at confession.

The book, "High Heels are Murder", by that notorious destroyer of youth, Elaine Viets. The story, from down deep in the bowels of TLC

http://thelipstickchronicles.typepad.com/the_lipstick_chronicles/2008/08/a-helluva-read.html

My mother never censored my reading so I read Harold Robbins in 5th grade. I had to ask my teacher what some of the words meant. She suggested asking my mother, as she
told me "wasn't sure what some of them meant either". Then a discreet phone call to mom, who told school, "I'm not censoring Lora's reading." They then just asked me not to bring them to school.

Harrold Robbins, Sidney Sheldon, The Happy Hooker, The Godfather, Nancy Friday...all read before 14. Naturally, with this reading background you'd think my morals would be corrupted, and my libido out the window. Nope..married for 18 years to my husband...met and dated exclusively since 1985, 4 children...converted to Catholicism 8 years ago. Just the opposite. I try very hard n ot to censor my kids reading...fortunately with boys, they don't read too much!

I read Judith Krantz, Phyllis Whitney, Sidney Sheldon...... All by the beginning of Junior High. Granted, I had to sneak a few of them. I read what Ya was available then and still do today. I don't censor my kids reading, though I do ask then if they think they're ready to read about certain things.

Oh, I'm late to a real party here . . . I read anything and everything (including Shakespeare, The Yearling, and everything that the book club or Readers Digest published, whether or not it was suitable for children) by the time I was 12. So it remains an astonishing puzzlement that when I read 'Rabbit Run' in junior high or sophomore year of high school, I took it to the principle and announced that they should not be offering it for sale in the little cubby that was our 'student bookstore'. I'm sad to say, the principle removed it from the store. Sigh. My first experience in censorship, and I was on the wrong side of the line.

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