Roses by Leila Meacham

I'm embarrassed that I even read this book--that's how bad it is. I feel as if I have to explain why I read it, so that my good name is not besmirched: I am always on the lookout for good books by Texans, preferably also about Texas, for book reviews I do for TexasLive magazine. This one is set in East Texas, was written by a retired teacher who lives in San Antonio, and was a best seller a couple of years ago. Reviews compare it to Gone With the Wind and The Thorn Birds. Sounds like a good bet, yes? Wrong.

This is a family saga, so it covers several generations. The two main protagonists are third-generation East Texans, the male a timber baron and the female the heir to a cotton plantation. The story follows them through the next two generations, to the grandson of the male and the grand-niece of the female.

How do I dislike this book? Let me count the ways.

1. While Gone With the Wind is not my idea of literature for the ages, it does portray a time and a place with believable drama. The only similarity between that book and Roses is the heroine's obsession with the land. I read The Thorn Birds years ago and don't remember much about it, but I would have remembered if I had been offended by it. Thus, I don't think the comparisons hold up.

2. The characters are plastic stereotypes and unbelievable. The two primary love interests are tall, slender, and unbelievably good looking. The female is often referred to as a goddess, and the hero is frequently referenced as a "golden Apollo." The secondary (read, inferior) characters are frequently short, often dumpy, and always ordinary looking. As subsequent generations come along, they continue this pattern, so that the romance at the conclusion of the book features two tall, slender, unbelievably good looking descendents who look amazingly like the original love-interest couple. (I was reminded so much of Ayn Rand and her "super-couple" Dagny Taggart and John Galt.)

3. Racial stereotypes abound. The black characters in the book are all obsequious servants. Their conversations all sound like Gone With the Wind, even in 1985. The one Jewish character is portrayed as ruthlessly taking advantage of the financial difficulties of others; in his "mean little office" he taps his forehead with a "jaundiced-nailed finger."

4. The plot is full of holes. For example, there's a family curse, we're told. It's that the possessors of the land have few children, and most of them die before adulthood. Was this situation that unusual? Who cursed them? Why? What were they doing wrong? Loving the land too much? Or what?

5. The writing is often ridiculously overblown: "Caution and decorum flew from their restraints in surrender to her need of him, and she welcomed his possession...." Enough said.

6. All-in-all, this seems like nothing so much as a puffed-up Harlequin romance. The publisher just put roses on the cover, rather than a photo of an impossibly beautiful, photo-enhanced couple, in a passionate embrace. (He--tall, golden blond, and tan; she--tall, raven-haired, and tan.)

It's a darn good thing I didn't work for the publishers of this book, because I would have rejected it and would have deprived my company of all kinds of profits. I obviously have no clear grasp of what may or may not be popular out there in the wide world.