ROOBOOKON

or why good books are exhausting

Rubicon refers to a point of no return, a boundary that once crossed indicates an irrevocable commitment. 

A roobookon, on the other hand, refers to that point in a book when it’s already really late and you only have [X] amount left, so you might as well just stay up and finish it. Roobookon is the midnight math you do when you’re enjoying the hell out of what you’re reading  and really want to keep on going. This sophisticated formula takes into consideration the remaining number of pages, plus the minimum number of sleep hours required to function the following day. The roobookon differs from reader to reader and book to book. 

Roobookon is you in the wee-est of hours saying to yourself, convincingly:  just one more chapter. And again, just one more chapter; and another just one more chapter, then just one more chapter.  For a little while, you actually think you might believe yourself, until finally you hit that point: fuck it, I need to know if she solves the riddle and completes the third challenge to escape from under the mountain. Hello, roobookon.

The OG Rubicon was a river between Italy and Gaul. In 49BCE it was unlawful for a general to lead his troops out of his assigned territory. Julius Ceasar knew what he was doing when he crossed that river Rubicon, out of his province and into Gaul, ultimately sparking a civil war. He famously said “The die is cast, bitches!” Which was then paraphrased by a bunch of witches in MacBeth then Don Corleone who said “what’s done is done, bitches.”

Which is kinda where I was at 2 something this morning, heading into the final stretch of One Golden Summer, by Carley Fortune.  “The die is cast, bitches. I’m gonna be tired AF tomorrow,” I thought, having decided fuck it, I’m all in. Anyways, I am really tired today, thanks roobookon and Carly. What’s done is done.

I used to be an asshole book snob. I only read literature, because I had a literature degree. Then one day, one of the smartest people I know suggested a beach romance book. I was gobsmacked. Then curious. Then an immediate convert. Then had to binge all of the trash I’d been missing out on. Now I’m a goblin for fae smut and all things happily ever after (aka HEA).

Romance books get a lot of crap from non-romance book readers (ahem, earlier iterations of me). I’m filing this under the same bull crap: feminine joy don’t get no respect.  People who want to get down on the genre like to say the stories are all the same, follow a similar arc, then everyone ends up happy. 

Is that so bad? Can someone explain why happily ever after is not a desired outcome—in all things? Have you read the news this morning? And I don't mean any random morning, I mean this morning. Today, when our elected officials just voted for the worst option possible for everyone but the billionaires. 

Perhaps a little HEA in our every day isn’t such a bad thing. 

I agree with comparisons I’ve heard between watching sports (highly respected) and romance stories (too girly): they’re not all that different on some levels. You go in with a pretty good idea of what’s going to happen—that’s why you’re taking part, because you love the journey of it. Along the way you expect delicious moments and plot twists. Some of the players end up very happy, you just aren’t sure who and how. Some moments leave you vibrating with glee, others have you shouting in anger or disbelief. Things can change up until the end. Some are more exciting than others, some stay with you forever. One involves more wings, the other more tea. 

You can also be into both. Hockey romance is a really big thing right now, and not just for hockey people. If you want to be transported by amazing writing, characters, setting and some hockey, dedicate yourself to Fredrik Backman’s Beartown trilogy. (OMG all three books are available on Kindle unlimited right now).

Romance stories are all about connection. One of the greatest ways of creating joy for ourselves is through connection. Connections with people, our communities, but also characters. Reading about these connections, romantic and otherwise —because let's get real, some of the coolest, smartest and kindest characters in this genre can be found amongst the besties and the friend group— helps us see ways we can create these connections in our real life. 

Did I mention the oxytocin? She is the love hormone. Oxytocin is what our brain releases as we float with Charlie and Alice on the lake and catch our breath with them in the treehouse. This makes us more likely to love on those around us. I’m not talking horny shit here, although, the spicy scale in romance novels ranges from the very chaste Amish love (yep, that’s a sub-genre) to some pretty headboard grabbing levels of delicious smut. Oxytocin offers a bonding, connecting, community feeling.

So why aren’t we looking for a little more of that in our lives?

If you’re not sure where to start with romance in general, you can’t go wrong with anything by Emily Henry, Taylor Jenkins Reid, Sonali Dev, or Katherine Center; or try this list of small town romance suggestions. (gift link) I think I’m going to have to make my own list for you.

Yes, I still read literature, but isn’t Pride and Prejudice just an old school rom-com? (Also, I’m a slut for any modern reinterpretation of the story.)

see you in a few days

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