So… you can review individual books, but not authors, is that right? Hmm. Well, in that case, Wild Fire is the book that has made me decide to never read Christine Feehan again. (A statement like that will probably have many people decide to read every book she has ever written, just to prove me wrong wrong wrong.)
To be fair, there have been some that I enjoyed: Carpathians—Dark Prince, Dark Symphony, and Dark Slayer; Leopards—Burning Wild; Drake Sisters—Hidden Currents, Safe Harbor, and Turbulent Seas; and, like, half of the Ghost Walker books. So really, I’m not a hater. I’ve probably read a good twelve to fifteen of her books. I just reached my limit, and I don’t mean my limit of books—I mean my limit of Feehanisms. Wild Fire had them all, shamelessly. Not the obvious ones, the supernatural, one-mate-for-life, repetitive language bits. Here are my list of Feehanisms, minor and major, that I’m just completely tired of:
1. These books usually have a group of highly skilled, knowledgable men and one naïve woman. The author goes out of her way to point out (even having the characters say it) that this woman is very intelligent, yet the heroine is so ignorant about this supernatural world (in this case, cat shifting) and her sexuality. She has to be educated by the men about the former, and her mate for the latter. In a Feehan novel, the heroine is either completely inexperienced (usually being too psychically volatile to touch other people, or physically isolated from others) or her only sexually experiences are brutal ones. Because of this setup, the characters seem interchangeable because there’s so much explaining of the same explanation (you’re a leopard, you’re going into heat, we mate for life) and repetition of roles book after book.
2. Except for the Drake sisters, the heroine is usually isolated. Like, princess in a tower kind of isolated. They have no friends, family, or online community.
3. These people travel the world, and despite how exotic the locale (in this case the South American rainforest), the scenes break down to: a jungle/forest; a crowded party; a huge house with a big, central staircase; some kind of barracks/enemy fort; or a lair. If it is not one of these places, it is barely described (exception being the Drake sisters’ house). But what’s worse is the overlying sense of, um, American-ness to all these places and the people who inhabit them. In Wild Fire, the premise is that the leopard people have lived in the jungles since time out of mind, protecting the jungle and its inhabitants. Why then, do they all have names like Mary, Jeremiah, and Conner, and why are they all Anglicized in their appearance? When Connor wants to marry Isabeau, how is it that everyone there knows exactly what the wedding needs? How is it that a different species a continent away has the same WASPy traditions as a stereotypical American wedding? If the bride and groom hadn’t left because the bride was going into heat, I bet they would have done the Chicken Dance and the Electric Slide at some point. I assume they’re speaking English in Wild Fire, not Spanish, not because the book is written in English, but because the idioms are American. In the completely isolated cabin Conner and his mother lived in, they just brew up a kettle for tea and Isabeau pops into the shower—and the logistics of that are completely written off under something like “Conner prepared for the group’s arrival.” Really? Is there running water, or a catchment system for this tree house? How do they have lights? Electricity? Is the stove gas or electricity? How did he get lightbulbs, much less gas into the jungle? Etc. When part of the whole sexiness is that it’s wild and exotic, why does Feehan not bother to change up the setting in any significant way? It seems really lazy. Although I’ve never been to the rainforest in Borneo, so I could be way off on this point. It could all be suburbs down there.
3. These series never end! In the Carpathian books, even when the main evil wizard is killed, one of his minions escapes (and this is after, like, 20 books, including a Christmas special!) AND there’s the leopard/panther spinoff. Even the Drake sisters’ series, where you thought would end after seven books—seven sisters, seven books, right?—now there’s the “Sea Haven” series set in the same town, with more sisters! AND the brother of one of the Drake sisters’ husbands, who himself has six brothers. This could be ten more books! Making “franchise” a dirty word.
4. Why don’t any of these chicks wear a bra? The women do so much running and attacking, and—frankly—bouncing, and (as mentioned earlier) hanging out with groups of strange men, you’d think they’d feel more comfortable with a support garment of some sort. Or is going bra-less shorthand for being an ass kicker?
5. The sex is always rough. Sometimes, it is super hawt; other times, it’s an “it’s not rape because it’s true love” explanation; but always, always it is rough. Words like rasp, pound, hammer, grind, pummel, slap, pierce (I think in this book he pierces her cervix or enters it somehow), and “bruising force” are common. Teeth and biting also very common (hard to avoid with vampires and leopards, but still, there are some parts I would rather not think about being bitten hard enough to draw blood). One character in the Ghost Walker series is tortured and scarred over his entire—yup, entire—body and can only feel pleasure when humping is when it’s super rough, and that process is described… lingeringly. And their penises are always super huge, and they hump, like, five times a night. Even the heroine in Wild Fire feels it the next day, down in her junk, and she expects to be walking funny. It’s all very porn-y at times.
6. Finally, and this is the biggest one, is the violence, especially sexual violence perpetrated on the women in Feehan books. I mean, the men take a pounding (a beating not a “pounding”)—see above where I cite the guy who was tortured over his whole body—but the women are just abused over and above. There’s routine and systematic child abuse, sexual abuse, psychological abuse, psychic abuse (if that’s a real term, for when psychics harass helpless innocents), torture, a whole strange wizard blood thing in the Carpathians that surely must count as incest, rape as a part of a breeding program, pregnant women who are attacked and have their throats cut—one Carpathian woman was literally torn to tiny bits and had to, I don’t know, will herself back together. In Wild Fire, the heroine is attacked by a rival leopard, who slashes her across the breasts, down the legs, and right in the cooter. I mean, really: what does all this violence mean? What is all this violence supposed to prove—that her characters are the most bad ass of all?
What all these things make me feel is that it’s all pointless—and that’s pretty bad when your escapist fiction makes you feel nihilistic.