In Which I Have Very Little to Say

This morning before breakfast I spent about an hour and a half writing a lengthy, thoughtful post to weigh in on the latest round of romance bashing sparked by a recent article in the New Republic. I reviewed some of the responses–in the Washington Post, Kirkus Reviews, and Eloisa James’ interview on–but when all was said and done I decided not to let anyone read it. Once I got my annoyance at the New Republic piece off my chest, I realized I had said everything I wanted to say on the subject in my last post.

I am weary of the argument, and extremely tired of listening to people who haven’t even bothered to read the books they denigrate. And so I will bow out of the discussion, close my browser windows, kick back on the patio in the sun, and bury my nose in a book.

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