Loose Id, $5.99, ISBN 978-1-59632-387-2
Contemporary Erotica, 2007
Under a Silver Moon is different from the previous two ChildsPrey book in that this time around, the hero is more definitely more pretty and wears more make-up than his lover. Imai Shimizu, the lead singer of ChildsPrey, ends up falling for a woman, Kim Donovan, and no, it’s not because he secretly wants to get his hands on her wardrobe.
Kim is a stylist who decides to accept a six-month stint in Tokyo. Little does she realize that Imai, the person she’s going to be styling, is currently stuck with a broken leg and he’s not going to be very mature about his current predicament. Because Kim has gone to nursing school, her employers feel that she’s also suited to be Imai’s caregiver on top of being his hairstylist. She accepts the position since it comes with accommodation and the opportunity for her to bring her daughter over to stay with her. The money is better too, of course. But Imai is going to be one high-maintenance fellow indeed, heh.
I don’t know if it’s a “Japanese” thing, but one thing I notice here is that when the authors tackle an American heroine, this heroine doesn’t come off like a thirteen-year old girl the way these authors’ Japanese girly boys tend to do. And in this story, Imai unfortunately comes off too much like a spoiled brat to do much for me. Kim and Imai’s romance seems to be some bizarre mix of mother-son thing and lust since the authors spend more time describing these characters’ sexual interaction. And when they try to show how “romantic” Imai is, unfortunately it seems to be romance from the viewpoint for a thirteen-year old girl.
Kim cries when Imai performs this song.
My tears are gone
Gone like the light you were to me
Goodbye, dear one
Like a beautiful flower
Petals unfolding in my hand
Fallen now, blown away like sand
Goodbye, dear one… my light… my precious flower…
Yes, I know J-pop songs have English lyrics that are similar to this kind of thing, but yes, I’ll be crying too if Imai sings that song in front of me. Only, I’ll be crying as tears of laughter roll down my cheeks.
It’s a cultural difference thing, perhaps, because at the end of the day I really cannot get into the whole deal about all these petulant pretty boys behaving like overgrown thirteen-year old girls looking for love. I suspect that ultimately I am the completely, absolutely, totally wrong target audience for this book.
