...way out on the corner of fucked up and evil...

I mostly love the Parasol Protectorate, but every time I read Blameless I feel all ragey that Alexia takes her husband back even though he acts like an ABSOLUTE FUCKING NOBBER. And, okay, I get that she's pregnant, that she really does love Conall, and that this is Victorian England and her options are basically take him back or get to a nunnery, but all I can think of is that if somebody I'd slept with treated me like that, I would never, ever speak to them again, because OH MY GOD, FUCK YOU LORD MACCON, FOR ALWAYS.

Probably this unforgiving temperament is the reason I am not the lead in more steampunk supernatural Victorian-era romantic novels.

Posted via m.livejournal.com.

Oh, also, I have started reading the Parasol Protectorate. Acidicly well-mannered science-loving Victorian lady, fighting crimes with the help of her werewolf husband who is, I swear to God, basically Daddy Winchester in written-word format. I'm on the second book now, and I'm only part-way through so I can't say for sure, but I think it's shaping up to deliver Utena-style lesbianism at some point.

This may well be my favourite series of 2011 thus far.