REVIEW: Claiming the Courtesan by Anna Campbell

Readers were arguing about Anna Campbell's debut, Claiming the Courtesan, before it was published. An Avon historical that was actually offending readers? This I had to see. And as I sat down to read, I expected to be shocked, looked forward to it, even, because I was really craving a book that shook up my sensibilities for a change.

Unfortunately, Claiming the Courtesan wasn't that book, but it wasn't a bad book, either. For a first book it was compelling and promising, with some fresh phrasing and a bold use of the old captive heroine motif. Sure the hero is a brooding, tormented nobleman –" the duke who fears he's as crazy as his father and mother and who seeks the healing effect of the heroine's body and soul. But this heroine isn't quite the virginal innocent nor the feisty TSTL aristocratic lady, and her relationship with the possibly insane duke kept my jaded self riveted for the first half of the book. As for the second half . . . well, I'll get to that.

Justin Kylemore, aka Cold Kylemore, has spent the last year enjoying the fruits of a five-year pursuit of one of the most notorious courtesans in London, Soraya, aka Verity Ashton. We meet them on the last day of their contractually-arranged relationship, and the eve of Soraya's secret plan to flee London with her bodyguard (aka her brother Ben disguised as an Arab eunuch) and take up country residence as a chaste and anonymous widow. Justin, however, has no plans to end this satisfying liaison, instead deciding hastily to marry Soraya and thwart his mother's plans to make her ward a duchess. When Justin discovers that Verity has fled without a forwarding address he is extremely angry and betrayed.

So what is a bereft and slightly crazy duke to do? Spend three months tracking his lover down and kidnapping her at gunpoint, then taking her to his remote childhood home in Scotland to punish/worship her foreverandever. Verity isn't flattered at the duke's obsessive attentions, though, and Justin has to contend with a combative and reluctant captive ensconced in a place that still echoes the torments and trauma inflicted on a young child by an abusively unstable father and ruthlessly ambitious mother.

Despite the extremely melodramatic dimensions of this set up, I was completely sucked in by this part of the novel, partly because it was just so extreme. Verity regrets her life as a courtesan, and once she is Justin's captive, she refuses to give him the pleasures of her body willingly, both because he has taken away her will and because she has never viewed sex as a real pleasure to be experienced. Justin, though, wants more than Verity's physical surrender; he wants the passion he identifies as Soraya's, because he has convinced himself that she is his salvation. Justin doesn't like it when Verity is passive or remote. Verity doesn't trust Justin when he shows her kindness. Justin realizes that he is acting unforgivably, but he keeps pushing himself on Verity, who represents a bewitching combination of innocence and experience Justin craves. Verity, on the other hand, tries to remain unfazed by Justin's fluctuations between angry kidnapper and smitten paramour.

In the most fundamental way, Justin is trying to force seduction on Verity. Part of Justin wants to punish Verity for leaving him, while another part is disgusted by his actions, wanting instead for her to truly desire and care for him. Yes, it's twisted, but Campbell doesn't shy away from the unsavory aspects of Justin's character or its effects on Verity. She doesn't use this motif to conveniently have Verity connect with her inner vixen. “Anything you take, you take as a thief,” she tells Justin, even as he pleads with her: “Verity, think what you do. It doesn't have to be like this. The pleasure we shared was a miracle.” She cannot be convinced, however: “That implies something freely bestowed” (pp. 127-128). Even more complicated for Verity, however, is the fact that her body isn't unresponsive to Justin's after a year as his mistress, and she is ashamed of these sensations, especially knowing he violated her. And although Justin is well aware of how far gone he is, he keeps to his course, disturbingly accepting of his own self-disgust.

This portion of the book is uncomfortable, and it made me uneasy to think about how these characters were actually increasing their emotional intimacy within this unnatural and unequal situation. That Justin has a ton of past trauma and raging night terrors doesn't mitigate the wrongs he does to Verity. That Verity sees sex as somewhat debased doesn't mean that she needs to be forced to experience pleasure as a way to enjoy it without guilt. Much internal dialogue ensues during this section of the book, as Campbell lays out in great detail the complex and sometimes unsavory relationship between Verity and Justin, as well as their own internal –" even parallel — conflicts. Both characters are emotionally masked and they each find an internal balance through battling with one another.

With so much emotional drama front-loaded, however, the second half of the novel suffered from a lack of momentum and the burden of conflict-manufacturing clichà©s, from Justin's scheming mother to Verity's needless self-sacrifice. While I'm glad Verity and Justin (Truth and Justice?) didn't arrive at page 375 with “I hate you –" I love you,” I wanted the plotting of the novel's second half to be as intense as the emotional tenor of the first. I was also somewhat ambivalent about another heroine who, if she can't be an actual virgin, is ashamed of her sexuality in substitution for her missing hymen. Again, though, Campbell did something interesting by having Justin refuse to judge Verity for her past: “Verity is sweet and virtuous and Soraya is a woman who goes after what she wants without regret and fear. Those two women unite in you” (p. 242). For me, though, the first half of the novel did not unite seamlessly with the second.

There is definitely a strong sense of emotional justice in this book, and a relatively traditional Romance novel-y finale for Justin and Verity, which makes me think this book will appeal to mainstream Romance readers. I anticipate that some will dismiss it as a mere bodice-ripper, although I think it is more a meditation on bodice-rippers. That said, I understand why readers who do not like rape or forced seduction might hate this book. In general, I am one of them, and the only thing that saved this book for me was the way Campbell honored Verity's honor by not making what happens to her about love or mutual desire or absolving Justin of the need to grovel in a major way. I also know there are readers who believe that rape in historical Romance is “historically accurate,” but I am not one of them, and I did not feel Campbell was letting herself off that easily, either. Claiming the Courtesan has a very daring dimension to it, and hopefully Campbell will continue to push further at some of the old genre conventions in future books. In the meantime, B- for this one.

Best regards

Janet (aka Robin)

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