By JL Peridot (Guest Blogger)
I
grew up in the 80s. I thought nothing of it when Han Solo hounded
Princess Leia until she took him on. Or when Maverick got Charlie by
being publicly romantic. Or when Deckard hooked up with Rachel after
getting rough with her in his apartment. As far as I was taught, this
was normal — this was sexy.
Of
course, I wouldn’t be comfortable with any of this in real life. A
too-eager guy encroaching on my personal space is an instant
turn-off. I’ve heard moments like these in 80s cinema contributed
to the toxic masculinity rife in the world today. So with every sexy
story I write, I wonder what kind of influence my misbehaving
characters might have on real people, now and in the future.
Do
male heroes coming on strong teach us to expect that men must
come on strong to be desirable and heroic? I’ve seen plenty of men
who behave aggressively to appear strong. Or worse, passive
aggressive to demonstrate strength while still appearing polite. Is
it because they’ve been taught this behaviour is normal — that
it’s what they need to do to be sexy?
Are
there ways we can depict masculine strength with both
situational realism and respect for women? This is what I wanted to
explore.
Rhys
Carver is the strong and respectful hero of my new novel, Chasing
Sisyphus. As a cop, he holds fast to a sense of duty without
having a stick up his butt about it. He’s aggressive, but not
boorish and thoughtless. And when it comes to sex, I figure he was
more of a maverick in his younger years, but learned to rein it in
after all the fucked up shit he’s seen. At 35, he’s professional,
he’s on the level, he’s got his act together.
Then
he’s confronted by Adria, the femme fatale protagonist who won’t
back down. What do you do when the woman who gets you going could
kill you when your back is turned? What do you do when you owe her
one, but it’s your job to put her in jail? What do you do when
answering the call of duty means putting your whole city under
threat? You know, dilemmas that really test his mettle.
For
him, the struggle is in balancing the impulse to act with the
rational smarts and reasonable use of force that make him a good
detective. Taking the cop and bounty hunter stuff out of it, Rhys’s
dilemma mirrors the real dilemma I’ve observed in and discussed
with almost all the men in my life — especially the ones who I
respect the most.
In
both fiction and real life, I turn to strength’s more stoic
characteristics. It’s not the same as coming on strong, using grand
public gestures to coerce love, or forcefully imposing your will upon
others. Instead, it’s a deep-seated perseverance in the face of
your flaws, your dirty thoughts, your unsavoury impulses. It’s a
commitment to maintaining that balance in a productive way, resulting
in a quiet fortitude that makes you someone who can be counted on
when the stakes are high.
To
me, that’s sexy.
Thank
you so much, Lisabet, for having me on your blog.
Blurb
Bounty
hunter Adria Yuan is hot on the trail of her final hit: a notorious
hacker wanted by the city’s elite. With the reward, she can pay for
her brother’s surgery and finally get out of Basilica City. Trouble
is, her line of work’s not exactly legal, and she’s barely
staying ahead of the cops who want her target, too.
Detective
Rhys Carver may be a little unorthodox, but he’s a good cop. Born
and bred in Basilica, he does his part to keep his city clean. As
clean as it gets, at least. And with Adria suddenly in his sights,
it’s going to take more than falling in love for him to let her go.
As
the pair close in on their mark, they are unwittingly drawn into a
high profile conspiracy that could thrust the whole of Basilica into
chaos. Can Adria and Rhys set aside their differences, and their
desires, to save the only home they know?
Buy
Links
Amazon:
http://mybook.to/chasingsisyphus
Barnes
& Noble:
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/chasing-sisyphus-the-basilica-conspiracy-jl-peridot/1127259716
iTunes:
https://itunes.apple.com/au/book/chasing-sisyphus-the-basilica-conspiracy/id1298768446?mt=11
Bookstrand:
http://bookstrand.com/book/chasing-sisyphus
Excerpt
He
couldn’t make out her face, but he sure noticed her tight
silhouette as she walked by the Nova Legion statue. She seemed a
little upmarket for the scene and, come to think of it, he didn’t
remember seeing her leave. She was probably still there, waiting
under the streetlamp like a femme fatale in those movies Keats kept
on mute at his desk on a tiny TV.
Somewhere
nearby, a door shut. At any other time, it would have been another
pip of noise in a filthy district. But it was too quiet around here.
Too few people to make a sound like that seem normal. Anywhere else,
it would be the sound you shut out. Here, to Rhys, it was a dog
whistle.
“Keats,
I heard something,” he said. “Gonna go check it out.”
“Not
a good idea, Carver. There’s a chase at the north end. Cap’s
called the cars in. You got no backup.”
“Don’t
need it. If the kid’s still here, he’s alone.”
“You’ll
be in deep shit if the boss finds out. How do you even know it’s
him?”
“We’ve
been watching this guy for weeks. I got a feeling he’s onto us. Or,
if not us, then someone else who wants him out of action.”
“C’mon,
Carver—”
“Keats,
I just know, all right? I’m going in. You got eyes on me or not?”
“Jeez!
All right…where you heading?”
“Building
two thirty-four on the corner. Going in via the south entrance.”
“CCTV’s
busted on the west side, but I got eyes on the north exit. Actually,
building report says the east and west fire escapes are busted, too.
You keep the south door covered and your boy ain’t going nowhere.”
Weapon
in hand, Rhys crept inside and shut the door behind him. It was dark.
The only light came in from the street through gap-tooth blinds and
dusty windows. It took a second to adjust.
Broken
floor tiles and peeling wallpaper lined the foyer. A lamp hung from a
wall, still intact. This might have been a nice place once, before
the city’s worst years. Now it stood waiting for the official
condemnation that would put it out of its misery. Like the rest of
this district.
The
stairs creaked under his weight, the ceiling creaked above him.
“Keats,
we got residents here?”
“Negative.
Power and water were cut off twelve years ago. Why, you see
something?”
Gunshots
exploded above. No time to answer. Rhys popped the safety and legged
it up the stairs.
*
* * *
Adria
hadn’t counted on the tripwire. This kid knew someone would follow
him home one day. He’d strung a line of empty soup cans across the
apartment hallway. When she kicked that out, a hefty serving of iced
water came down squarely on her head. Gooseflesh prickled her neck
and shoulders. The muscles in her jaw seized in the cold. Against the
shock, she scrambled to her feet, fired up to catch the stomping and
crashing in the other room before it got away.
A
figure ran past the doorway.
“Stop!”
she yelled.
It
rounded the corner. Adria gave chase.
She
scanned the room. It was dim at best, thanks to the streetlights from
outside, but she saw enough. Computer equipment and various
peripherals lay strewn across the floor, some still plugged into a
transportable battery in the corner, emitting tiny lights and
numbers.
A
window slammed shut. The glass shattered. Shards crunched and ground
beneath Adria’s boots as she hurried in pursuit of her fleeing
target.
When
she stepped out onto the fire escape, two hands rammed her into the
ladder. The whole balcony shuddered from the collision. Pain flared
down her shoulder, but she kept her grip on the gun. She held it up
with her good arm and fired.
Two
shots.
Missed.
She
stumbled backward, clutching her burning shoulder, but the railing
crumbled under her weight. Adria grabbed what was left of it with
both hands as her footing slipped away.
It
looked like a four-storey drop. Maybe five if she’d miscounted. Her
legs dangled over thin air while from below came the clatter of
broken pieces of railing, along with her gun, as they hit the
concrete.
Overhead,
her target stomped away on the rungs and disappeared onto the roof.
Adria’s
shoulder raged. She tried to pull herself up, but couldn’t take the
weight with just one good arm. Her feet kicked out, searching for a
foothold, but the grill beneath had long withered away to slivers of
rust and sharp edges.
Water
and sweat dripped into her eyes. She swiped them helplessly on her
sleeves and winced as rough seams grazed the skin. The railing
creaked in her clammy grip. She could always let go. If she timed her
landing right, maybe she’d get away with a broken ankle and a
tetanus shot. Surely it only looked like a long way down.
Then
she heard a gunshot from inside the apartment.
About
JL Peridot
Blog:
http://jlperidot.com
Twitter:
http://twitter.com/jlperidot
Instagram:
http://instagram.com/jlperidot
Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/jlperidot
GIVEAWAY!
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2 comments:
Welcome to Beyond Romance, JL!
That's a really dramatic excerpt.
Hope your tour is really successful.
Thank you so much, Lisabet ��
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