There is so much win on this page.
The motions are conveyed so well, from Rachel swiping that novel away from Tuna to hitting him with it mere panels later. And the emotions! Tuna goes from peeved about losing the romance novel to surprised at being hit with it to furious with Rachel.
And then there’s the visual of Tuna, pencil firmly stuck into butt, writing a romance novel by scooting his rump across the floor.
This page is a Rachel and Tuna tour de force.
A word about Native American Romance Novels
I was a big fan of Native American-esque romance novels–mostly because I dig guys with long hair.
Once, as a teen talking about Native American romance novels with another teen friend of mine, she said, “They make me so sad. I can’t read them.” Why? “Because in another hundred years, all their kids are dead or shipped off to a reservation where they don’t want to be.” Puts a damper on the fantasy, doesn’t it?
It’s very hard to find authors who can write well, research a culture thoroughly, and compel you, and hoping for all three in a romance novel? The odds are not in your favor. So although I read a number of “Passion on the Prairie”‘s, I only deeply enjoyed one or two. The rest made me feel embarrassed for all parties involved. There were moments when I hoped no Native Americans ever read what I was reading–it was so bad. How do you apologize to nations of people (not all of which still exist even) on behalf of a handful of crappy writers? Here, let me try:
I’m sorry for all the crappy romance novels wherein the Native American Rival Female to the Great White Heroine is a psychotic, obsessive bitch. I’m sorry for the number of times the sons of Indian Chiefs have hooked up with infantile, helpless, unskilled, and frightened white females and chosen them as wives, in spite of the lady’s inability to cook even a proper meal or shoulder a rifle. I’m sorry for the bad naming conventions. I’m sorry about the number of times the author pushed her religious agenda onto the characters. I’m sorry for all the lame stereotypes. I’m sorry the lead male is almost always half white. I’m sorry that the lead female is almost always either desperate or an outcast.
But there is one thing I will not apologize for: that scene, in Grey Eagle’s Bride, under the tree, when the creepy rapist is looking for her in the forest. Yeah. That was a good scene. Mraow.