There are certain things, when I indulge my occasional craving for romantic fiction, which just set my teeth on edge. Here are my two current bug bears: “flame-haired” beauties, and characters who describe themselves while looking in the mirror.
I was reminded of my irritation with the former when this novel, in which “flame-haired beauty Chloe Collard [who] promised herself something a long time ago: she would get a proper education and make something of herself”, came across my path in the line of duty.
Perhaps it’s sheer envy - I’d probably love flaming locks of my own. But it’s just such a swooning-heroine, easy-shorthand-for-a-fiery-tempered-dame sort of a description.
I put the phrase through Google Book Search. And just look at how many of them there are.
“‘Your father?’ The flame-haired beauty turned, wrenching her arm from Drake. ‘ls Colonel Wakefield your father?’”
“Her flame-haired beauty was as evocative of wonder as the ivory pallor and coppery raven hair of Alice.” (Coppery raven hair, hmm?)
“Her hair came loose from its chignon, and fanned out, blowing wildly in the breeze created by her speed. He dashed after her. He was not only intrigued, but excited by this flame-haired beauty with her blunt speech.”
“He would saddle her horse all right, but he was tempted to cut the cinch nearly through so it would break during her ride and spill the haughty flame-haired beauty in the dirt, where he thought she belonged.” (Mean!)
I’ll stop. But I could go on, especially if I expanded it to include “unruly auburn curls”, which is also grating.
“Her mouth grew dry as his gaze slowly swept over her, from the top of her unruly auburn curls, across the white blouse and past the faded jeans to linger on her tattered sneakers.”
“So she’d woken up late, with coffee to chase the cobwebs from her brain, no blow-dryer or straightening iron to tame her mass of unruly auburn curls, no steamer to tame her even more unruly clothes, and no light in her windowless bathroom.”
“She emerged from the shower with the towel wrapped around her head as she tried to tuck away a few of her unruly auburn curls.”
It’s all a certain type of book. And it’s annoying! I want my heroines with straight brown hair in the future, please. And if your hair is so unruly, put it in a flipping pony tail.
Ditto the mirror thing – lazy, and it’s not only me it annoys. It makes a fabulous list of writerly cliches from Joanne Harris, along with “Hair as a substitute for personality” (“Wild hair; mad hair; unruly hair – whichever way you look at it, it’s still only hair”) and “Exposition Man” who says things like: “As you know, we’ve been brothers for 20 years …”
I love Harris’s example passage. “The bedside alarm rang loudly, wresting Lake from her fitful dreams of the devastatingly handsome and charming stranger she had met just the night before at a college party … She yawned, stretched and with an endearing clumsiness, made her way across the untidy bedroom to the mirror, where she studied her reflection. A heart-shaped face stared back at her, framed with unruly auburn curls tumbling across her vivid green eyes.”
She’s even got unruly auburn curls! I’m glad it’s not just me. Do share your own pet peeves – or tell me to get over mine (or perhaps to stop reading the kind of books which feature them).
