Roll Me Over, Royce, in My Rolls Royce

As you all know by now, I approach every subject I write about with objectivity, integrity, and a sense of fair play—three characteristics that are, er, characteristic of me. Characteristically, then, and with no thought aforethought of being judgmental, I dove open-mindedly yesterday into the pages of Nora Roberts’ The MacGregor Brides.

Jesus, what a piece of shit.

Okay, I confess that I didn’t read all 370 pages, but I did read 50 of ’em. Hell, if I’d finished the whole book I’d be back in the hospital, this time getting my brain pumped.

A brief summary of the first 50 pages: Laura MacGregor, fabulously rich and fabulously beautiful, is fabulously adept at protecting the sanctity of her fabulous knickers. Royce Cameron, a fabulous pussy hound who thinks with his fabulously small schlong, is nearly into Laura's fabulous knickers by the end of Chapter 3. Laura is a fabulous attorney and Royce a fabulous security systems designer, but in the course of human affairs they are both as vapid, as vacuous, and as dumb as a box filled with fabulously dead spiders.

Publishers Weekly said about the book, “[Roberts] delivers the goods with panache and wit.” And the always-well-regarded-and-reliable Los Angeles Daily News said, “Roberts is indeed a word artist, painting her story and her characters with vitality and verve.”

Liars, liars, pants on fire.

Here is a sample of Roberts’ “panache and wit” (page 33):

Royce: “If you change your mind about the meal, you’ve got my number.”
Laura: “Oh yeah, I’ve certainly got your number.”

Here’s a sample of her “word artistry” (page23):

“Her hair was black as midnight, straight as rain, and tumbled to a waist that just begged to be spanned by a man’s two hands.
“And she was wearing some of the sexiest underwear it had ever been his pleasure to observe. If the face lived up to the body, it was really going to brighten his morning.”

And here’s some “vitality and verve” (page 47):

“He lowered his mouth toward hers, stopping an inch before contact. He saw her eyes darken, heard the long intake of breath, knew she held it. He waited, while his blood surged, waited until they were both suffering.”

Make that three, pal; I was suffering right along with the two of you.

But as shitty as this book is, both writing- and story-wise, here are a couple of reader comments from Amazon.com:

“This is a sheer delight from start to finish, Nora Roberts at her very best.”

“I loved every part of this book!! I couldn't put it down. Anyone who loves romance will love this book. It won't [let] you down!”

So what the hell is wrong with these people?

Or is it me?