Fava Beans and
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Light Bondage: My Safe Word is Elephant
Becky Flade
ome time ago, my cousin’s wife sent me
begs the question: Why is there such a stigma on
a copy of an ad she saw on craigslist – a
romantic fiction?
couple were looking to unload their hand-
No one assumes I’m a cannibal because I read
crafted BDSM playroom. This confused
Thomas Harris’ books, or that I practice witchcraft
me. Why would she be sending me this? And that’s
since I’ve read the Harry Potters. I don’t abuse my
what I asked her.
children (I have every book by V.C. Andrews); or
“I know you read the Fifty Shades books,” was her answer, to which I replied, “I also read the Hannibal Lecter books. Want to come over for dinner Saturday?” She laughed.
intend to kill all my neighbors in a televised fight to the death (Hunger Games). I have an eclectic taste in books, as evidenced by my extensive collection (Stephen King novels?
I laughed. And the awkward
moment was over. But this interaction has lingered on the edges of my subconscious since. It
Got ‘em all), but because I read [and write] primarily romance – clearly, I’m a fetishist? And she’s not alone in her assumption. Society on a whole denigrates the readers and writers of romantic fiction. Novelist William Giraldi makes us all out to be idiots. Thankfully, the Washington Post doesn’t agree with his opinion, but most people who don’t read romance fiction [and don’t think this is limited to men either. I read a scathing article by a female psychologist insisting romantic fiction is the lonely woman’s refuge] seem to share that opinion.
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