Overall Quality 4.0 / 5.0 (recommended)
Gay Content 2.0 / 5.0 (a couple of secondary gay characters)
Gay Positivity 4.0 / 5.0 (mostly positive)

Out of the supernatural (straight) romances I’ve read recently, Undead and Unwed is one of my favorites so far. It’s not great literature (none of them are), but all in all, it’s just a lot of fun.

Of course, it helps for me that this book has some actual gay content.

Betsy is an urban, modern, wise-cracking secretary. Until she dies. And then comes back as a vampire. In fact, she returns as the prophesied Queen of All Vampires, a job in which she is not interested. She’s an unusual specimen for a vamp – religious icons don’t affect her, sunlight doesn’t burn her, she can control her need to feed, and she just wants restore some semblance of normalcy to her “life.”

But an evil vampire named Nostro (AKA Fred), and a seductive one named Sinclair, try to sweep her into a giant vampire smackdown. Meanwhile, her sassy friend Jessica and new gay friend Marc try to help her out, but mostly just get in the way.

It’s a fast-paced and energetic story. Davidson’s take on vampires is pretty standard – everything from garlic to sunlight gets them, with the sole exception of protagonist Betsy, who’s as non-standard as vamp’s come. She’s a cool character – through her Davidson is able to spoof vampires and romances.

Unfortunately, she’s a one-note character. I liked that note – snappy, witty, and irreverent – enough to keep reading, but the book would have been much stronger if the author had imbued her with more emotional depth. Instead, it’s just non-stop sarcasm and humor.

For example, at one point Sinclair convinces Betsy to help him by bribing her with designer shoes. It’s funny to read Betsy’s shallowness play out, but it doesn’t endear her to me.

Sinclair, the romantic interest, is an intriguing character, but the romance subplot is inconsistent. (And be advised – the romance is definitely a secondary theme) A couple of scenes reveal Sinclair as a character worthy of the central romance, but other scenes do the opposite, and at the end I couldn’t tell if Sinclair wanted to get with Betsy because he genuinely loves her, or because he wants the status she conveys on him.

The central story is also undercooked. Most of the book is: Betsy becomes a vampire, and then humorously observes what it’s like to be a vampire. The central drama about the power play between Nostro, Sinclair, and Betsy is present from the beginning, but it sits on the back burner until near the end. I wish the author had introduced a few more compelling plot points, which in turn might have given the characters opportunities to reveal more emotional depth.

Over the course of the story, Betsy befriends a young gay doctor named Marc. Like all the characters, his character is not well developed, but he’s a nice guy.

It bothers me that Betsy meets Marc when he’s trying to commit suicide. It also bothers me that he seems to lack personal agency, which is the real issue underlying “The Gay Best Friend” stereotype. Within a day of meeting Betsy, he falls into her orbit. He has no personal motivation, interest, or goals. I see this less as a slur on gay people, and more as poor characterization.

In fact, particularly in this case, consider the demographic. Sure, I would like the gay character to have a beefier role and his own romantic interest, but I’m a gay guy. The contemporary woman at whom this novel is aimed, wants to see herself in Betsy’s Ferragamo’s, and probably has a close gay friend herself.

A lesbian vampire, Tina, also puts the moves on Betsy. Betsy is put off by the advance, but everything she said was in character, and overall I thought she handled the awkwardness quite well. Tina is one of the more stable characters. She has a sympathetic belief system, and I wish she had enjoyed a larger role.

Overall, a fun if fluffy, mostly gay-friendly read. I am just disappointed because it comes so close to being a really great story, but just misses the mark. Here’s hoping the series matures in the next volume or so.

Overall Quality 3.0 / 5.0 (cute, but not really my cup of tea)
Gay Content 1.5 / 5.0 (minor mentions)
Gay Positivity 2.0 / 5.0 (ranges from neutral to mildly negative)

I decided to try some straight supernatural romance novels for a change of pace, so this volume is a bit outside my usual reading domain. Single White Vampire is the light-hearted story of Lucern Argeneau, a handsome if surly vampire who writes his family history as fiction novels, and his persistent editor Kate Leever, who is determined to get the reclusive Luc to do some promotional work for his books.

The humor keeps the story afloat; otherwise, I found the plot to be a bit too light and fluffy for my taste. Not enough real drama or tension to sink my teeth into. So to speak. Ahem.

The author’s take on vamps: they’re actually descendents of the technologically advanced civilization of the lost city of Atlantis. A scientist created a kind of nanite (a microscopic robot) that is so efficient at repairing human tissue it virtually stops aging and makes the person extremely long-lived. The downside is that the nanites require blood to work. The Argeneau clan run a blood bank, and they consume blood from blood bags, rather than hunting humans.

The book contains some minor gay content of questionable positivity.

• In the beginning, Kate wonders if Luc is gay. “What kind of guy wrote romances? And vampire romances at that? She had decided it was probably someone gay … or someone weird” (p. 16).
• Later, Luc wonders if Kate’s fellow romance novel editor Chris is gay. He says, “You are a romance editor. That is a woman’s job” (p. 138). The response: “Ah.” Chris grinned. “But you write them. Are you gay?” (p. 138).
• Finally, in one of the book’s funniest scenes, Luc is on a Quest for condoms, and he ends up in Chris’s room at the hotel where they’re all staying, when room service delivers the condoms. The bellhop clearly thinks the condoms are for Chris and Luc. “Chris whipped around to face Lucern, horror dawning on his face. ‘He thinks we – that you and I – he…’ He was almost incoherent with horror” (287).

The first couple of mentions don’t really bother me, even though they clearly associate gayness with weirdness and femininity. The story is too silly to take too seriously. Besides, both Chris and Luc defy stereotype by being straight.

The last scene does irritate me, however. “He was almost incoherent with horror” at the thought that some nameless stranger he’ll never see again, who was perfectly friendly, has the mistaken impression that he digs guys. Are you kidding me? That’s just plain homophobic. It’s not even in character for Chris. The author was just playing the scene for laughs. The whole thing is too inane to be offensive, but I still found that bit off-putting. (I’ll also point out that the only instances of inclusion are references; no gay characters or real content … but consider the intended demographic. I ain’t it!)

Recommended for fans of light-hearted, supernatural (and straight) romance novels.