For the first 100 pages or so, this book was a literary Krispy Kreme doughnut: utterly devoid of nutritional value, but glazed in pure happiness. And then, like the best junk food, my joy immediately turned into regret, and my proverbial teeth felt like they were rotting out of my skull.
Act Like It is about a man (Richard) and woman (Lainie) who star in stage production in London. He’s a celebrated actor (emphasis on the last syllable), she’s a budding young star. He’s a rogue with a devilish reputation, she’s squeaky clean and noble. To rehabilitate his image, his agent and the play’s director hatch a plan to have the two pretend to date in order to drum up publicity and sell tickets. Lainie agrees to the charade only after it’s agreed that some of the profits will go to her favorite charity.
You still with me? If you haven’t bailed, then this book might be for you. I must admit that it didn’t seem particularly interesting to me, so it’s probably no surprise that it left me with the feeling of rotten teeth in my head. But, I only read it because it’s in contention for being the most popular book of the year.
Let’s get one thing out of the way: I find the unrepentant asshole in need of redemption the single most mind-numbingly idiotic trope in fiction. There’s nothing I hate more than someone who loves Jane Austen a little too much attempting to create their very own Mr. Darcy. Stop it. His ultimate and inevitable redemption belies the unerring truth that the romantic hero is, in fact, an asshole.
I say all that, but I will concede that there were legitimately enjoyable moments in the beginning. The relationship between Richard and Lainie almost had a Sam-Diane from Cheers quality, except Lainie didn’t give as much as she got from Richard. Their back and forth was largely one-sided.
This didn’t really affect my opinion of the book, but at one point Parker uses the word “propinquity”. That word doesn’t really mesh with other sentences written in this book, and its use is jarring and inexplicable. I know this is absurdly nit-picky, but it was so out of place I actually remember it.
Anyway, the story is just…..so utterly predictable. There were no turns from the expected. Lucy Parker hit every note, and struck every chord. This book was as paint by the numbers as you’re likely to see. I mean, I could write this plot in my sleep:
1. Two characters don’t like each other.
2. They get thrown together under fairly contrived circumstances.
3. Against their better judgement, they fall for one another.
4. There’s got to be some kind of jilted ex-lover or deep, dark secret (turns out, this book has both!)
5. Jilted ex-lover/deep, dark secret comes in between the budding romance and the two break up.
6. Just kidding! They still end up together.
There you go. Generic romance in six easy to remember steps.
I don’t understand why so many loved this, nor do I think I’ll ever be a fan of the romance genre. I’ll still give Courtney Milan a shot – because you guys seriously love her.
15 reviews in CBR8, for an average score of 4.00. The Mama is the only one to give it a rating under 4.0. Whoever you are, I tip my glass to you in solidarity.
Well done you! I’m love seeing Cannonballers try new genres because of reviews they’ve read here. Can’t wait to hear what our romance mavens have to say!
Thanks!
I’ve branched out so much since joining CBR.
I can understand why you don’t like it, but for romance the predictable plot is often part of the genre. Romance always ends with a Happily Ever After or HEA, and that’s why I and so many others read it. We want that guarantee. A lot of times I need that guarantee. Reading is my happy place, and I don’t want it making me depressed. Some authors, such as Milan, turn the entire genre up on it’s head, but she still always gives me the ending I need. I will definitely add my voice to that recommendation.
It’s not the happily ever after that frustrates me, it’s nearly every plot point had been laid out in advance by our cultural expectations of what a romantic comedy is.
It’s just lazy, shallow writing. We can still get to the same place without following the same path every time.
This isn’t Lucy Parker’s fault. I generally liked her writing. But I do think it’s a limitation of the genre.
I see it more as part of all genre fiction. Whether you’re reading a mystery, a romance, a fantasy, there’s so much laid out straight from the get go. You get the beats you get at the same point pretty much every time. When someone doesn’t follow that, I notice right away, but I don’t mind “classic style” at all when written well enough. Act Like It is an excellent, modern example of a marriage of convenience plot. It’s a very traditional plot in historical romances, but can be tricky to update to our modern age (for obvious reasons). I thought Ms. Parker was quite clever here in how she forced Richard and Lainie together right from the get go. It’s a traditional trope in an nontraditional setting.
Also thanks for giving me something to think about this day before vacation when I’m trapped at my desk doing the most boring work imaginable!
No worries.
Of coyrse, I think you’re right. The more I thought about what I said, the more I realized I was far too narrow in my criticism.
While my opinon of this book hasn’t changed, I’ve only read two “Romance” books (Colleen Hoover’s November 9). I haven’t read nearly enough to condemn the genre.
The common tropes of fantasy, sci-fi, and mystery don’t bother me as much as this one. But you are right to say all genres have their shortcuts.
As a non-reader of romance, it might help you to know that we who love the genre read it BECAUSE we can predict the story beats, and we want them. It’s like comfort food. There is a pleasure in knowing what’s coming, anticipating it, and then getting what you were anticipating. Every once in a while, an author like Milan comes into the picture to shake things up, but like Beth Ellen says, even she knows to give us what we came for, even as she’s stirring the pot.
Also, I didn’t LOVE this as much as most people seem to have. It was just a fun quick read. I did want more from it. If you want to judge the genre based on just a couple of books, seriously, try Courtney Milan (I recommend The Countess Conspiracy) and The Hating Game. If you don’t like those books, romance probably isn’t for you.
I plan on reading The Hating Game at some point. I think it was Malin who said it’s not a typical “Romance” book.
And I have the Governor’s Affair on my phone right now (it was free on Amazon).
This might be alien to me.
Like, I don’t look forward to the hero’s journey in fantasy. It’s something I put up with because I like what else the genre has to offer.
The romance I enjoy (say, Eleanor and Park) generally eskew the girl meets boy, girl loses boy, girls wins boy back trope that annoys me so much, or they at least don’t make it so obvious.
I don’t know what it is about romance that does this. I don’t read any other type of story the way I read romance. I feel like people might have studied this, but you’re right that it’s probably alien. It’s alien to me, too, in that I DEFINITELY look for other stuff in all the other types of books I read, and I get a different kind of pleasure out of them.
I tip my glass right back at ya.
Kudos for trying a new genre, and whether you liked the book or not, great review.
As many eloquent ladies have said before me, the somewhat predictable tropes are part of the reason a lot of readers find romance so comforting to read. Frankly, one of the things I really liked in this book is that Richard ISN’T suddenly turned into a fluffy bunny of a man because he falls in love with Lainie. He’s still grouchy and hates most people, he just loves her. Trust me when I say that in quite a lot of (not very well-written) romance, he would be a drastically changed (and much less interesting) man by the end.
If you don’t like the idea of historical romance, The Governess Affair may not be for you. Try Trade Me or Hold Me, one of Milan’s contemporary novels instead, maybe? Also, fair warning, there are quite a lot of really predictable plot beats in The Hating Game as well – most of the plot is telegraphed a mile away. That’s not why the book is so good – it’s because the characters are so much fun to read about. Their banter is excellent.
I don’t like the idea of historical romance (and have struggled with Jane Austen), but I’ll give it a shot. I’ve never actually read any, so I can’t fairly judge it.
But I’ve already downloaded The Hating Game, so that review should be coming soon. The plot synopsis sounds interesting, at least….
Agree with all of what has been said above. I am someone who is new to romance, in that I’ve only been reading it for the last three years or so, but who has read a pretty good amount of it in that time. Part of my hesitation to get into it had to do a lot with the predictability (as well as the bad reputation for cheesiness.) I didn’t really understand the appeal.
Now, a lot of my reviews of romances talk about the different ways that authors maneuver around the tropes and expected plot points, and, how in their own way, these are worthy expressions of creative talent. A good romance vs a bad romance for me often comes down to the cleverness of the story even as it’s leading exactly where you’d expect. If you think back to when we all read The Bollywood Bride, one of the reasons it wasn’t received well here was because how the author decided that TONS! OF! DRAMA! (of the generic, tragic-backstory variety) was the shortcut to an exciting story, rather than letting the characters’ relationship develop around one or two more minor obstacles. By comparison, someone like Courtney Milan often features two players that have clear motivations and whose goals may initially not align or even be antagonistic, but through normal interactions they develop a healthy measure of respect and appreciation for each other and realize they’d be well-suited as a team. It’s predictable, but the intricacies of how the two become perfect for each other is what makes the story work.