So, once upon a time, or last week in movie land, women’s dialogue and ‘issues’ were termed ‘the slop’. Slop. Not fit for human consumption. Good enough for farm animals, maybe. But not of any intrinsic, nourishing value.
And, of course, the romance novel is no doubt prime ‘slop’ fodder, as it’s filled with women’s dialogue and ‘issues’.
But that’s to the uninitiated, the literary snob who buys J.M. Coetzee to place on the bookshelf rather than to read, those who think poetry books are what keeps publishing houses afloat.
Romance novels have ‘come a long way, baby’. Here’s why:
It’s a lavish, three-course dinner, fit to your culinary desires, that’s guaranteed to leave you satisfied.