O Harlequin, Where Art Thou? asks Michele Mills

Once upon a time, back in the dark ages of the late eighties, I read a Barbara Cartland.

I figured, why not give it a go? I’d heard Ms. Cartland was related by marriage to Princess Diana and the stories sounded so royal and romantic. So I went in, read maybe two of them and stopped. At the time, deeply tanned, emotionally stunted heroes and helpless virgins weren’t doing it for me.

Around this same time I also tried reading a few harlequin-type categories marketed towards teenagers. They were sweet, but a bit yawn inducing for my tastes so I gave up mmb1on those too and that was that. I didn’t bother graduating to actual Harlequins thinking I’d find more tame story lines […]