Sometimes, you judge books by their cover.
I first caught sight of Patricia Grasso’s Love in a Mist on the leave-and-borrow shelf at my university library whilst hanging out with some friends. The cover looked like your typical bodice-ripper romance. We were correct in this assumption, and not disappointed at investigating its contents. We laughed ourselves silly over excerpts read aloud from randomly selected pages, hooted over choice bits of dialogue, and reveled in the wonderful ways the characters made their sentiments known, such as:
“I don’t give a blasted damn!”
“Hex me not!”
And the very cutting: “I don’t give a fig!”
I rarely give up on a book, once started. However, while it was entertaining, I had definitely had enough when about fifty pages in, the main character, Keely, (a Welsh pagan priestess) concludes a ceremony to invoke protection in her travels. She proceeds to thank the earth for its bounty, the streams for their water, and so on, and closes the ritual by saying something like this:
“And thank you, to the trees, for the air that we breathe.”
The year is 1575. I do not give one fig if Keely has mystical pagan powers. She does not know about cellular respiration.