I always brag about reading Georgette Heyer and Laura London at age 13 – and it’s true. Early on I developed a taste for the good stuff. What I mention far less often is my undeniable huge (as in gigantic, oversized, and extra large) appetite at that age for Barbara Cartland.
During my teenage years I devoured Dame Barbara. And, considering her huge backlist, that amounted to one major league crap-load of pink-tinged dreck…er, Cinderella stories. And, considering that she wrote the same story featuring the same characters over and over and over and over, that added up to young Sandy being heavily inundated with the lady’s ideas about romance and gender. (Shiver.)
But, heck, I’m betting that a lot of us did our time in Cartland-land. And, undoubtedly, we all learned some important lessons, right? […]