(no subject)

[dira]

It's not just a quiz, it's a quiz from the BBC! Gacked from kikala:

You are a Linguistic Thinker

Linguistic thinkers:
Tend to think in words, and like to use language to express complex ideas.
Are sensitive to the sounds and rhythms of words as well as their meanings.

Other Linguistic Thinkers include
William Shakespeare, Sylvia Plath, Anne Frank

Careers which suit Linguistic thinkers include
Journalist, Librarian, Salesperson, Proof-reader, Translator, Poet, Lyricist

What Kind of Thinker Are You?

So, on my way out the door this morning for work, I had to grab a book to read at lunch, since I finished Jingo last night. I couldn't remember off the top of my head which book was next in the City Watch sequence (is it Carpe Jugulum?) and instead picked up the romance novel that's been sitting on the shelf for months: Beyond Innocence by Emma Holly.

I was a little worried about starting it, because the unrelenting het-ness of mainstream romance novels can be jarring when you deal mostly in slash, but as it turns out,

First paragraphs of the book:

"A footman!" Edward raged. "You were caught in your bedroom with a footman?"

Anger had pulled him to his feet behind the study desk. Now he gripped the edge of the carved bog oak as if pressure alone could will his brother's confession away.

...

"It's the calves," he said in a weak attempt at humor. "Never could resist a man with a good pair of legs."

[Edward's anger isn't so much anger as concern over what might happen to his baby brother if word gets out; he's regarded fondly, the sort of much-beloved-if-foolish baby brother I have myself, instead of being villainized like the other gay male characters I've encountered in romance novels.

Edward is persuaded that the best thing is to find Freddy a beard nice unsuspecting girl to marry, and is given an opportunity to observe the prime candidate (who, of course, he's going to end up with himself) while she's at her dressmaker's.]

Unfortunately, this caution did not quell his fascination as the dressmaker arrayed Miss Farleigh in the frock. Had he ever watched his mistresses being dressed? If he had, he could not recall it. Surely, few sights could be more seductive than that of a woman tying another woman's petticoats, or steadying a bustle, or dropping a rustling silk skirt over two submissively raised white arms.

Miss Farleigh herself seemed conscious of the erotic charge. ...

Though het will doubtless prevail for our Hero and Heroine (well, unless he hires her a really pretty lady's maid...), I have hopes for Baby Brother being left to his own devices. Must write Emma Holly and tell her how wonderful she is...