Huzzah! Successful library book sale haul today. Brought in all of Madeline Hunter's 19th century quartet, all in new condition, for fifty cents a pop, plus assorted other historicals and inspirationals both paperback and hardcover. A couple books for the husband, an art gallery book for Dad, and most of all, managed to not turn around and thump the romance-bashers standing behind my friend Linda and me in line to get in.
I really don't get genre-bashing, as a whole. You don't like something, fine. Don't read it. Free country. Personally, I don't "get" straight mysteries or appreciate straight fantasy or SF the way some of my friends do, but I don't feel the need to talk them down, loudly, especially in front of people who are obviously buying them.
Hearing things like "Author X writes the mysteries, and those are good, but then she writes love stories...you know, sex things. I bring those back or throw them out." Well, okay, then. As my DH would say "Have at it, Sparky." Read and let read. Nice to know that was one less person grabbing for the historicals.