Dear Author » 18th-century

REVIEW: The Amorous Education of Celia Seaton by Miranda Neville

Janet — Tue, 26 Jul 2011 15:00:30 +0000

Dear Ms. Neville:

When I was offered the chance to review The Amorous Education of Celia Seaton I had no idea what to expect. I’ve had mixed reading experienced with Avon historicals, and while I have enjoyed our few brief exchanges on Twitter, I really had no sense of where your books fit in within the Historical Romance subgenre. The title and cover art are formulaic Avon (i.e. not remarkable to me at all), and the marketing seems to put your writing style somewhere between Lisa Kleypas and Julia Quinn, which wasn’t a big help, either. And I’ll confess that for perhaps the first few chapters of the book I was skeptical: a young woman kidnapped, stripped of her clothes, and abandoned (temporarily) in a deserted Yorkshire cottage; a dandy and member of the ton conked on the head, partially stripped and robbed, who wakes with amnesia. Said dandy is precisely the man who cut the heroine dead with one of his “witticisms” (in this case that she had a head like a cauliflower) and ruined her chances with a prospective suitor. How these coincidences persist given all the English Regency characters running around Historical Romance, I’m not sure, but one lesson I did learn (again) from reading this book: it is unwise to judge a book solely by its cover and title. Because The Amorous Education of Celia Seaton proved to be a witty, interesting, trope-busting read.

Celia Seaton has had a run of very bad luck. First her mother dies, then her father — who is raising her in a remote area of India, supposedly under the aegis of the East India Company – is killed on his way to meet Celia on a ship bound for England, leaving Celia to sail alone and without any prospect of family or employment upon arrival. Celia, who has never set foot on English soil, is briefly taken in by her uncle, who dies before he can provide for her economic security. From there she gains a position as a governess to four boys, whose widowed father proposes marriage, only to throw Celia out when the man’s sister convinces him (erroneously) that Celia has a lover. She is currently on her way to visit a Mrs. Stewart, a stranger who has written Celia to say that she knew her parents and her recent “misfortunes,” when she is kidnapped at gunpoint and left nearly naked in the abandoned Yorkshire cottage. Celia’s kidnapper has, however, suggested he will return to have a little “fun” with her later on.

With that promise lingering, Celia manages to get herself out of the attic where she’s been imprisoned, only to find an unconscious and half-dressed man lying across the cottage’s doorway. Recognizing him as Tarquin Compton – ton dandy and all around jerk – Celia manages to rouse him, seemingly intact except for his memory. At which point Celia tells Tarquin of the danger to them both, but fibs a bit about Tarquin’s identity; she tells him that they are a betrothed couple and that he – Terence Fish – is studying to be a vicar. Terence/ Tarquin is not convinced of the story’s truth (for one thing, he despises the name Fish and has vague, periodic memories of a rather high-flying lifestyle), but he is certainly aware of the predicament he and Celia are in, and together they set off across the moors, hopefully to find refuge with the mysterious Mrs. Stewart. Neither has any money (Tarquin has his boots, his breeches, and an erotic novel he recently purchased on his way to his Yorkshire property, while Celia has an old, tarnished silver baby rattle that belonged to her mother and that apparently escaped the thief’s eye), both are only half-dressed (Celia’s shift is far too short and her only other garment is a pinned-up blanket that serves as a makeshift skirt), and neither has any conscious idea of where they are or in what direction salvation may lie.

As Terence/Tarquin and Celia trudge across the moors (part of which, not surprisingly, turns out to be Tarquin’s Yorkshire property), they encounter everything from sheepherders who think they’re thieving gypsies to a farmer who agrees to give them a ride and a meal but who later wants to purchase Celia for a bride, and always they are aware that Celia’s kidnappers are in close pursuit. What neither can figure out is why a young woman of so little social consequence would be the object of such a dedicated kidnapping plot and search, and while Terence/Tarquin struggles with his memory loss, he can only rely on Celia to fill in the blanks of his now-forgotten life. She is terrified he will remember who he is before she can tell him about her lie, but even more she is afraid that once he knows who he – and therefore she – is, he will abandon her to her less-than-illustrious fate. For Celia’s experiences of Tarquin Compton have not been pleasant. Several times introduced to her, he never remembered her name, and once he publicly designated her a cauliflower (due to an unfortunate attempt to make her red hair appear lighter and blonder), the little chance she had to make a good match was destroyed. Consensus indicates that Celia is not possessed of great beauty, and she had only the most tenuous of connections to the ton. Once those were spent she really was an outsider to respectable society, both in position and perspective, and she has no faith in Tarquin Compton to help her.

Terence Fish, on the other hand, is an entirely different sort of man. He is protective and solicitous, suspicious of the story Celia told him of his life but trusting that she told him what she genuinely knew. In fact, Terence had a growing fear that he might be a “nobleman” but not a “gentleman,” recognizing the quality of his boots, for example, not to mention the erotic volume he has to keep snatching back from Celia. More importantly, Terence Fish finds Celia Seaton extremely appealing, and he wastes little time in seeking the physical commitment from her that a betrothed man might convince his fiancée – especially a fiancée who seemed to enjoy reading erotic fiction – to indulge.

That so much happens before Tarquin regains his memory might suggest a quick resolution to the plot once he comes back to himself. However, one of the surprising delights of this book is that Tarquin’s recollected life is actually a catalyst to the real heart of the novel, as well as most of its trope-rich action. For by the time Tarquin realizes who he is, the connection he shares with Celia is far more than casual, and even though his social position would allow him to abandon her with impunity, his conscience – not to mention a lower part of him – won’t allow him that option. With the mystery of Celia’s kidnapping still opaque, Tarquin takes her to Shropshire, where his best friend, Sebastian Iverly, is staying with his new wife’s family. Of course, Tarquin forgets that Diana is very close to delivering her first child, and the scene at the Montrose’s home is, to put it mildly, chaotic. What happens from this point on is really too complicated to explain (and would entail some spoilers and delicious details best discovered by the reader), but I can say that while I had guessed the great mystery quite a bit before its revelation, the way it is incorporated into the larger plot strains of the book is very logical and clever.

While the set-up for Celia and Tarquin’s amnesiac road trip seemed somewhat tedious to me, the momentum continues to build throughout the novel, making each chapter more engaging and suspenseful than the last. The outrageousness of the set-up is subtly admitted to within the book itself, especially by the clever framing device of Tarquin’s erotic volume, The Genuine and Remarkable Amours of The Celebrated Author, Peter Aretin, a genuine 18^th C novel that Celia finds outside the cottage. The little book provides almost constant subtext, making many amusing contributions to Celia and Tarquin’s growing sexual attraction, not to mention quite an education for Celia, and, later in the novel, one of the younger Montrose sisters. The book becomes a clever way to negotiate around a heroine who is both virginal and sexually aware (her life in India and her father’s Indian companion also provided her with a rather unconventional sexual education). It also allows for some pretty funny bits involving the hero’s, well, bits, which riff off the standard Romance expectation that the hero is always well-endowed and often overwhelming to the heroine’s inexperienced eyes. In fact, one of my favorite things about the novel is that numerous genre conventions — amnesia, the road trip, the house party, the rusticating hero, just to name a few — are renovated and renewed in interesting ways.

The writing is witty, too. When Tarquin looks down upon Celia sleeping in the midst of much birdsong, and the reader expects some sentiment about her hair or face, Tarquin “wondered if she could be deaf in one ear.” There are clever turns of phrase, as when women would “flutter like deranged doves” around Tarquin. And there are some laugh-out-loud scenes, like the one in which Sebastian drunkenly worries about the physics of a baby’s head and the usual size of the birth canal as his wife labors without complication elsewhere in the house.

On a deeper, level, though, The Amorous Education of Celia Seaton is itself a novel about learning lessons and lessons learned, around which the novel’s more poignant elements are revealed. Celia has felt like an outsider all her life, and as an unbeautiful woman she sees herself as “a shabby wraith in the shadow of [Tarquin’s] magnificence.” How can she believe that a man like Tarquin could ultimately love her, especially when so much of his ego seems to depend on the good opinion of others? And Tarquin, who has spent so much of his adult life so privileged he no longer consciously sees himself as privileged, attraction to Celia is both challenging and vexing. After all, the woman lied to him, humiliated him, and then has the gall to question his intentions and his feelings for her — whatever they may be. There is a point in the novel where Celia is done-over by Diana’s maid, and while she cannot wait to surprise Tarquin with her new look, his attraction is already past her surface appearance. It’s really a lovely moment, because it highlights the disparities in their perceptions of each other at that point in the novel. And while the consummate insider and the absolute outsider do share an early personal history of sadness, the crucial difference between Tarquin and Celia – that he has had influential people to count on at crucial points in his life – stands as a very real obstacle between them. Not as much because of the social implications, but even more because of the emotional consequences of their very different life conditioning.

Despite the length of this review, I feel as if I have barely broken the surface of my feelings about this book. There is so much I admire and appreciate about the craftsmanship and a great deal that entertained me in a fresh, unexpected way. The way the different tropes play on surface v. substance and appearance v. reality, for example, and illuminate the different prisms through which people view themselves and each other. In some ways it is light, but not in the way of wallpaper historicals or straight romps; the light is emitted from the effervescent voice and prose. So what kept it from being an A read for me? This is the hardest part to articulate, because in the end it distills down to a matter of chemistry. Sure there were some anachronistic-sounding phrases, and Celia delivered a number of impassioned comments on the relatively disempowered status of women that fit her outsider status but still sounded a bit modern to me (or at least as vehicles for sharing historical details that might not otherwise be easily worked in), but mostly my issue with The Amorous Education of Celia Seaton is that I never felt deeply emotionally invested in Tarquin, Celia, or their relationship. In fact, I was more emotionally drawn to Sebastian and Diana, whose book I’m now going to go back and read. Had I fallen in love with this book to the degree that I admire and appreciate it, it would have been an easy A. Without that emotional clincher, though, it’s a B+.

~ Janet

REVIEW: The Rebellion of Jane Clarke by Sally Gunning

Jayne — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 17:00:49 +0000

Dear Ms. Gunning,

You are getting quite the reputation for writing detailed, women-centric books about Colonial life in America. “The Rebellion of Jane Clarke” is the third book which centers on the people of the village of Satucket on the island of Cape Cod and it takes us ever closer to the point where Britain and her restless and unsettled colonies will come into conflict over their fate.

Jane Clarke has always been her father’s favorite which is why he’s probably so angry with her when she suddenly decides to closely question the man her father has all but picked for her husband. It’s not that Jane doesn’t like Phinnie Paine and she’s certainly aware that he’s probably the best catch she could hope for in this small community. But something makes her need to know where he stands on certain issues before she comes under his control after their marriage.

But Phinnie decides not to answer and instead quickly leaves the Clarke household. Refusing to write the apology to Phinnie her father demands of her, Jane is bundled off to look after an older, ailing aunt in Boston and discovers a town seething with thoughts of rebellion. Some colonists advocate a break with England – and will go to any lengths to instigate it – while others are horrified at the idea. When Jane witnesses a pivotal event which the would-be rebels attempt to use for their own purposes, she must decide how much she’s willing to do to see that her truth is known.

As with your other books, this one follows women of the time and how they dealt with and were dealt with by their men. A few had it good, such as Jane’s grandmother, but even she had only achieved a degree of power in her marriage the second time around. And Jane is a strong, thinking woman who would have frightened most men. She thinks for herself, reasons for herself, keeps up with what’s going on in Boston, asks uncomfortable questions and refuses to simply accept what men tell her. Not that she doesn’t make mistakes in her judgment but then she’s off the island for the first time in her life and suddenly surrounded by momentous events and people actively trying to sway her.

Jane is breaking free of restraints and control just as Boston is kicking over the traces. But she’s not some gung-ho rebel – she thinks about what’s going on and looks at all angles. She sees honor and injustice coming from both sides. Since we see things only from Jane’s POV and she’s still coming into her own, still firming her viewpoints, there are several issues and characters you keep us in the dark about. Jane’s run-ins with the various factions in Boston help her to begin to critically judge people and give her a perspective on Phinnie that she didn’t have while on Satucket.

Propaganda is a useful tool and has been for time immemorial. Jane learns first hand how it can be used, abused and manipulated to serve particular interests when she herself is involved in events which the rebels wish turn to their own advantage. This serves as yet another way to mature her in her judgment and actions. She begins as a very naive young woman who trusts that the truth can come out and be known then learns how hard it is to keep from becoming a pawn.

The time in Boston had to be such a freeing experience for Jane, even with the obligation she feels for her aunt. She’s out from under the control of her domineering father, hardly sees her brother and with her Aunt’s permission – for reasons of Aunt Gill’s own – Jane can move more freely than most young women of the time. Her choice to question her almost-fiance and halt the easy slip into the settlement of marriage took courage. Here it’s almost a done deal, arranged by the men in her life, when she decides she wants to know more about this man with whom everyone expects her to spend her life and who would assume control over her at that point. It would probably be a very unsettling thing for a man to come face to face with. Jane is not some biddable, compliant young woman, willing to accept what she’s told.

After she witnesses the “Boston Massacre,” Jane’s faced with the choice of speaking out or keeping silent. The tide is heavily against the British by then but Jane’s sense of honor won’t let her stand idly by. Her conscience demands she tell what she saw as truthfully as she can and by doing so, she remains true to the character you’ve given her. But as much as I enjoyed the ring side seat to events which I honestly have to admit that I haven’t studied much, I do wish there might have been a little more fire. Seeing both sides of a conflict is wonderful for getting a more unbiased view of it but does leave the passion that must have pervaded the times somewhat damped and lacking.

Jane’s time in Boston also shows her that maybe her father doesn’t know everything, that his judgment isn’t perfect, that what she once thought of as true might not be and that she can’t trust what anyone tells her as they all have their own agendas to push. She has to open her eyes, do even more thinking for herself and reach her own conclusions. She’s like Robinson Crusoe, cast ashore in Boston, and when she returns home, she isn’t and will never again be the same woman who left.

After just looking at a historical mystery wherein the lives of historical personages seemed to be totally reworked into deeds they never did, I appreciate the fact that when you insert actual people into your story, you take great care to use them correctly. Correct dress, correct actions, and correct language. And the truth is in this case as fascinating as any fiction could be.

Since it’s historical fiction and not historical romance, the book is mainly Jane’s path to knowledge of herself, her family and the political events of the times. There is some romance but it’s a long time in being realized and even at book’s end, it’s more open ended and a possibility than a fact.

It’s nice to see the historical detail just flow, almost effortlessly into the story. I never got the feeling that it’s being deliberately worked into the narrative or any awkward information dropping. No, “look what I found out and just have to include” moments. But what is with the cover of the hardback book? A dark haired woman in what is obviously Victorian dress and hairstyle instead of a blonde Colonial? I’ll just keep my eyes focused on the image of the harbor.

You write historical fiction from a woman’s POV which seems like it would limit how much you can get them into the action and still remain historically accurate. Yet I like to think that our foremothers were letting their thoughts be known to our forefathers even if the women weren’t front and center on the historical stage. The book is more about Jane and how the events and people around her shaped her instead of being focused on the events themselves. I would be curious to glance ahead into the future and see which side Jane supports once war breaks out. B-

~Jayne

REVIEW: An Echo in the Bone by Diana Gabaldon

Jennie — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 21:00:33 +0000

Dear Ms. Gabaldon,

Though the classification of your first book, Outlander, as a romance has apparently been a bone of contention for you, I have to say that it was Outlander that started me on romance reading 15 years ago. I had joined a mail-order book club, one of those where you get nine books for a penny and then have to commit to buying a certain number of books over a certain period of time. Leafing through their catalog one day, I came upon an offer for the first three books in your Outlander series: Outlander, Dragonfly in Amber and Voyager at a special price. I don’t remember what hooked me – the description of the plot or the possibility of knocking three books off of my commitment at once. In any case, I ordered them, and my life as a reader changed.

I was hooked on Outlander from page 1; I cried buckets at the end of Dragonfly in Amber when Jamie and Claire parted, and was incredibly grateful that I had Voyager at the ready to start immediately after finishing the second book. In fact, I had to flip to Jamie and Claire’s reunion in Voyager, and then go back and read the first 300 or so pages; yes, I knew I was “ruining” it for myself but I would not have been able to function otherwise.

These books got me started on romance; I began to try to recreate the incredible reading experience I had with them. Easier said than done, I soon found, but I did end up, through much trial and error (The Flame and the Flower…shudder) finding other books in the genre that I loved. So even if Outlander is not a romance, I have it to thank for that.

Meanwhile, after finishing Voyager, I had three long years to wait for Drums of Autumn to come out (and I remember the day I bought that book; strange, when I can’t remember what happened last week!), and another four years for each successive book in the series. Which brings me to 2009, and the release of An Echo in the Bone.

My experience of this series has changed as the series itself has evolved – I no longer devour each book the minute it comes out. The books have gotten longer, and the storylines more complex. I bought An Echo in the Bone within a week of its release, but it took me until January 1 to finish (it’s a bit over 800 pages). This wasn’t a reflection on the quality of the book; some of it was merely logistical (the book was too heavy to tote everywhere, especially after I broke my wrist at the end of November). I think there’s also often a psychological factor related to how long it takes me to finish long, complex books; when I want to read in bed for 10 minutes before turning the light out, picking up a tome like An Echo in the Bone and trying to get back into the complicated story and (seeming) cast of thousands just feels like too much work.

A word about that complicated story and huge cast of characters: I have very little memory retention for what I read any more. I used to have an excellent memory, but that all changed around age 30, and I’m 10 years past that now. I have trouble remembering the plots of books I read and loved in 2009. So it goes without saying that there are huge holes in my memory where important plot points of previous books in this series should be. Since it took me so long to read, I actually forgot plot points from earlier in An Echo in the Bone by the time I was halfway through reading it. It’s sad, I know. I would actually love to find decent synopses of the entire series somewhere. I should check out The Outlandish Companion to see which books it synopsizes. It’s actually the later books I have more of a problem with; I remember the first two pretty well.

Okay, to end this digression and get back to An Echo in the Bone – I liked it a lot. I wasn’t sure I would, because honestly, the previous two books in the series, The Fiery Cross and A Breath of Snow and Ashes were uneven for me. I particularly recall A Breath of Snow and Ashes as feeling like it was comprised of bits of thrilling action interspersed with hundreds of pages of boring minutiae about colonial rural life. I still gave the book a B+, but it’s my least favorite of the series, so I did approach An Echo in the Bone with some apprehension.

I needn’t have worried – the quotient of thrilling action in this book is quite high. I’m very impressed with that; it seems like quite a feat to write 800 pages and not have, in my opinion, any notable stretches where the story lags. I think it helps enormously that the story follows quite a few different characters. Outlander was told in the first person from Claire’s point of view; I want to say that all the subsequent books have added other perspectives, but my sense (I’d have to look back at the books themselves to be sure) is that each book has had a wider scope in terms of the number of characters that are given voice and the time spent in their POVs (although only Claire’s is first-person; the others are third-person). In An Echo in the Bone, in addition to Claire, we get inside the heads of Jamie, Brianna, Roger, Jamie’s nephew Ian, Lord John Grey, his stepson (and Jamie’s secret illegitimate son) William, a young Quaker named Rachel Hunter, and perhaps a few others I’m forgetting.

I appreciate this for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that after seven books, I have a bit of Claire-fatigue. I don’t dislike Claire, exactly…but I don’t like her a lot either, at this point. She’s hard for me to warm up to as a reader, because she doesn’t show very much vulnerability and at times she seems a little too pleased with herself. I feel bad saying this, in part because it feels vaguely anti-feminist (I think to some degree I am indicting her for not being feminine enough, for being so darn capable and in charge) and in part because it just feels wrong to say that I don’t really like the heroine of what is one of my favorite series of all time. But there you have it.

(For what it’s worth, Brianna has the same effect on me; she’s definitely her mother’s daughter.)

So, the plot. The modern part of An Echo in the Bone takes place Scotland in 1980; Roger and Brianna have returned from the past, a return necessitated by their daughter’s heart condition. Amanda is fine now, having had surgery in Boston, and the family settles into Lallybroch, the ancient family homestead that was Jamie Fraser’s childhood home. The children, Mandy and Jem, adjust to modern life well, but Brianna misses her parents, and Roger feels at loose ends back in the 20th century. Their lives are eventually disrupted by a very unexpected visitor, and their family is threatened by an enemy whose motives remain unclear even by the end of the book.

The 18th century part (which cover from about 1776 to 1778) chiefly follows Jamie and Claire as they leave their home at Fraser’s Ridge, preparing to travel back to Scotland to deal with unfinished business, both personal and professional (Jamie wants to retrieve a printing press he has in Edinburgh; he intends to use it to print seditious pamphlets back in America). The trip is delayed and beset by so many of the usual sorts of calamities that Jamie and Claire regularly seem to confront in these books (their ship is fired upon and then commandeered, for one), I began to think they wouldn’t reach Scotland at all in this book (eventually, they do).

Lord John Grey’s stepson William, who is of course Jamie’s secret illegitimate son, is featured extensively for the first time, and he’s a very appealing character. He’s young and raw, but he has the strong sense of honor that both Jamie and John share, and a strong desire to acquit himself well in the British military as the conflict in America deepens. He’s attracted to Rachel Hunter, a young Quaker whom he encounters when injured. He reminded me of a younger (English) Jamie crossed with a younger (straight) John, and that’s a good thing.

Ian, Jamie’s nephew, continues to mature in this book; he’s involved in an unavoidable tragedy early in the book that haunts him for the rest of the story. He also becomes enamored of Rachel (as is typical in this series, Rachel, Ian and William’s paths cross so often you’d swear they were confined to small village they shared with only a couple of dozen other people, rather than roaming all over the colonies peopled by a couple of million). But Ian also has to reconcile his feelings for his first wife, an Mohawk Indian whom he encounters along with her new husband. I’ve had a soft spot for young Ian since he first appeared in Voyager, and really want to see him happy – he’s been put through the wringer over the past few books.

We also get to visit familiar and well-loved characters such as Jamie’s adopted son Fergus and his wife Marsali (who herself is Jamie’s stepdaughter from his marriage to Laoghaire); a subplot involving a medical emergency for Fergus and Marsali’s son Henri-Christian, who suffers from a form of dwarfism, is pretty engrossing. (I do like the medical facts you include in these books; they are generally described in layman’s terms so I feel like I’m learning something while being just lurid enough to entertain.)

As I mentioned above, I had trouble keeping track of some of events in the book simply because the story is so long and byzantine. There were some characters whose purpose in the story was unclear to me, even at book’s end. These characters were chiefly related to an espionage (I guess?) subplot which I assume will play out in future books. But their appearances were so few and far between and the scenes involving them were so murky, the existence of the subplot felt pointless, at least for me. I won’t remember any of this in the next book because I hardly understood it in this one. (This is causing me to muse that you aren’t much given to the sort of awkward info-dump exposition that some other authors who write series indulge in. I’m mostly quite glad about that, because awkward info-dumps are well, awkward and break up the flow of the narrative. On the other hand, a few more reminders in the text refreshing my memory about characters and events long forgotten wouldn’t be amiss.)

I mentioned the characters running into each other; that and other improbable coincidences are hallmarks of your books, and I can see why some readers might roll their eyes occasionally at them. On the other hand, there is, of course, a pretty strong paranormal element that forms the bedrock of this series; somehow that makes story elements that aren’t exactly realistic more palatable to me as a reader. I rather enjoy all the opportunities various characters have to exclaim, “You!” in surprise when encountering each other unexpectedly in the course of the story.

My chief criticism of An Echo in the Bone has to do with a development late in the book that I thoroughly disapproved of. I don’t want to spoil it, but I will say that it did not feel true to the characters, and instead felt as if it were a cheap manipulation of those characters for the purpose of creating conflict. Though it did not change my opinion of the book that much over all, I kind of dread having to deal with the consequences of this development in the next book.

Still and all, An Echo in the Bone is an excellent addition to the series. My grade is an A-.

Best regards,

Jennie

This book can be purchased at Amazon (affiliate link), Kindle (non affiliate link), Books on Board (non affiliate link) or other etailers.

REVIEW: The Birthday Present by Alison Richardson

Janine — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 21:00:09 +0000

Dear Ms. Richardson,

I had a blast reading The Birthday Present, the third and final story in your Countess Trilogy. To readers who have not read the earlier stories, but would like to read this one, I have to suggest reading this series in order.

Like The Countess’s Client and An Impolite Seduction, The Birthday Present is a Harlequin Spice Brief set in the late eighteenth century and narrated by its heroine, Anna, Countess von Esslin, who details her sexual adventures and her encounters with the Scottish scientist James McKirnan. James is a thorn in Anna’s side, but he makes her hot as well as bothered.

It’s been fourteen years since James and Anna first met in a Paris brothel and eleven years since their encounter in Derbyshire. Both are now living in Munich, since it is where Anna prefers to live and since she had, in retaliation for James’s actions in the earlier stories, spread rumors about him that made it difficult for him to live anywhere else.

Anna’s thirty-fourth birthday has arrived, and although she is the hostess of a popular salon, she feels dissatisfied. As she explains:

Most of the regular visitors to my salon were either distinguished old men or energetic young artists and scholars. The former held no interest for me for reasons that should be obvious, and the latter, if more appealing in physical form, proved equally unsatisfying when consumed as a regular diet. The new, romantic generation was far too high-strung and sensitive for my tastes–young men bored me, though they clustered around me like gnats and, after a few years in Munich, the thought of spreading my thighs for yet another adoring and submissive young poet was enough to make me cry with frustration.

Anna’s celibacy has lasted for two years, and she is therefore morose when she is invited to King Maximillian Joseph’s first court ball. Her birthday falls on this same night. At the ball, James McKirnan insists on a dance with her, and since he has some influence with the royals despite his common birth, Anna cannot afford to snub him in public.

Therefore, Anna dances and spars with her enemy. The banter between the two is delicious:

“Will I ever get anything but frowns from you, Countess?” James had just asked me in his usual light, mocking manner. He was leading me through the first steps of a complicated rondeau.

I told him coldly that if he ever did anything to earn a smile from me, I would certainly not withhold it.

Before James can reply, the dance is interrupted by Anna’s cousin Robert, who wants to present her with a birthday gift elsewhere in the palace. Robert claims his present is what Anna wants most in the world. He leads her to a closed door in the Palace’s east wing, and insists on blindfolding her, saying that he cannot give her this gift if she refuses to wear the blindfold.

Anna’s curiosity gets the better of her and she agrees to Robert’s condition. Inside the room, she encounters a nude, well-muscled and aroused man who gives her the vigorous, satisfying sex she has been craving. But one encounter is not enough for Anna, and she asks Robert to set up another.

Will Anna uncover her secret lover’s identity? Will the man satisfy her again? And how will Anna’s contest of wills with the Scotsman who is the bane of her existence resolve itself?

Like An Impolite Seduction, The Birthday Present is both sexy and hilarious. I think the plot here was the cleverest of this trilogy yet, but I won’t give it away. The lovemaking is very erotic, but this is also the most romantic of the three stories IMO.

In my review of The Countess’s Client I said that the jury was still out on James, but between the second story and this one, he has won me over.

One of the most satisfying things in this story was the way Anna and James remained true to themselves yet had matured and softened a little with the passage of time. I liked that both remained two strong-willed people; that Anna’s snobbery did not disappear overnight and that her sexual appetite is here to stay. She is only a bit less entrenched in her views at the end of the trilogy than she was in the beginning, but that bit is enough for me to believe in the happy ending.

And speaking of the ending, although it was not a traditional HEA, I thought it was perfect for these characters. It made me hoot with laughter, and spread a silly grin across my face, too. A- for The Birthday Present.

Sincerely,

Janine

This book can be purchased in ebook format from Sony or other etailers.

REVIEW: An Impolite Seduction by Alison Richardson

Janine — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 21:00:16 +0000

Dear Ms. Richardson,

Recently I reviewed The Countess’s Client, the first Spice Brief in your Countess Trilogy. I enjoyed the story, and especially its haughty narrator, Anna, Countess von Esslin, a young widow with a taste for good sex on her own terms. To read more about her, I purchased An Impolite Seduction, the second story in the trilogy.

As An Impolite Seduction begins, three years have passed since Anna has last encountered the man who makes her heart, and other parts, go pitter patter. As she puts it:

I have had many men in my short life, and in every case but one, I have left them on cordial terms. The one exception, an execrable Scotsman I had known in Paris, was guilty of the basest treachery against me, and after we parted my one consolation was the knowledge that I could likely live out the rest of my life without ever having to set eyes on him again.

But Anna was too quick to console herself with James’ absence from her life. While visiting England to attend her cousin Charlotte’s wedding, Anna discovers that James is the neighbor of the man Charlotte is affianced to. Anna will be forced to spend much time in his odious, common, and oh-so-sexy, company.

And that is not the only problem afoot. It seems that Charlotte’s betrothed is a pious earl entirely lacking in sexual experience, and Charlotte herself is also a virgin. Anna is worried that her cousin’s wedding night will be disappointing at best.

What is a cosmopolitan countess to do but invite an Italian gentleman to seduce cousin Charlotte out of her pitiable inexperience, and maintain utmost decorum at dinner while a certain execrable Scotsman strokes her to orgasm beneath the table?

I had tremendous fun reading An Impolite Seduction. The sex was sexier here, in my opinion, than in The Countess’s Client, enhanced by Anna’s snobbery, which added to the sexual tension in paragraphs like this one:

Yet the right suit of clothes does not make a man a gentleman, and I was well aware that James was nothing more than the son of a common tradesman, whatever pretensions he might affect. Men from the lower orders have their uses, of course (and James, to be frank, fucked like a prize-winning Thoroughbred), but they should understand that they serve at our pleasure; they must not try to lead where it is their duty to follow.

Of course James does not understand this at all, and I loved the way the antagonism, and sparks, between Anna and James kicked into higher gear, as each of them attempted to rout the other.

I did wish that their relationship was developed a bit more outside the bedroom than it was, but this is erotica after all. Also, the story is written with a wink at the reader, leading us to understand that Anna doth protest too much; the narration sometimes indicates that Anna means yes when she says no. I mention this because it is something that some readers may object to, but while I understand why, I was able, for the most part, to view this story as a lighthearted romp.

Several moments had me guffawing; the blend of hilarity and sexual tension was highly entertaining. The last paragraph was priceless and I am now eager to read the final story in this trilogy, The Birthday Present. B+/A- for An Impolite Seduction.

Sincerely,

Janine

This book can be purchased in ebook format at Sony and other ebook retailers.

REVIEW: The Countess’s Client by Alison Richardson

Janine — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 23:09:04 +0000

Dear Ms. Richardson,

When your Countess Trilogy was recently recommended to me by no less than three friends, I sat up and took notice. I quickly purchased the first of the three stories, downloaded it to my Sony reader, and devoured it.

The practice of genuine virtue leads to a life of odious boredom–of that there can be no question, and I cannot imagine that there is a woman alive who honestly aspires to the unhealthy ideal of true feminine chastity. The appearance of virtue, however, is a very useful thing.

So begins the first story (a Harlequin Spice Brief), The Countess’s Client. The year is 1785; Anna, the widowed German Countess von Esslin, is the narrator, and she is a very different kind of heroine.

In order to fulfill her sexual appetites, Anna has often turned to soldiers. Since she is “the only daughter of Fredrick the Great’s most famous general,” and “Everyone knows that fucking the general’s daughter is a hanging offense in the Prussian army,” she feels secure in the knowledge that army men will keep their mouth shut, and thus can be counted on to satisfy her while maintaining the impression that she is chaste.

The story begins when Anna journeys to Paris with an elderly aunt so as to visit her cousin Robert, who resides there. Abstinence is difficult for the young countess, but what is a girl to do when there are no soldiers to seduce?

This problem is solved after Anna catches her cousin with a prostitute at his house. Robert is so relieved that Anna doesn’t condemn him that he invites her along on his weekly visit to a brothel. All the prostitutes at the establishment owned by Madame Barthez are female, and Anna is only attracted to men, so she fears at first that the sole pleasure to be had at the place is voyeurism.

But that fear is allayed when Anna learns that there is one customer, a foreigner, whom the girls don’t like to service because he is no aristocrat and because his tastes are so plebian. In this Anna sees the solution to her problem: she will pose as a lady of the night, service the man, and satisfy her sexual hunger in the process. The man, thinking she is nothing more than a whore, will not spread any gossip about the Countess von Esslin, and since he is a commoner, they will likely never encounter each other outside the brothel, so Anna’s reputation will remain spotless and safe.

Of course, the course of true lust doesn’t run so smoothly. I had fun reading The Countess’s Client, a frothy erotic tale narrated in Anna’s cynical and superior tone.

Not only is Anna somewhat free with her sexual favors, she is also, not to put too fine a point on it, a snob. She believes she is better than the commoners she sleeps with, a fact that gets her into trouble in this story. Nonetheless, I found myself liking her, partly because she was a woman who knew what she wanted and went after it, and partly because I found myself laughing out loud at her boldness.

The jury for me is still out on Anna’s lover, the Scottish scientist James McKirnan. He is certainly intelligent and sexy, but I think it is debatable whether or not the last sex scene in the story is consensual. But for me, this did not detract from the bitingly humorous tone of the story, and since the prose was smooth and the characters intriguingly flawed, I enjoyed The Countess’s Client.

My understanding is that Anna’s story continues in An Impolite Seduction and concludes with a happy ending in The Birthday Present. I will be reading further to see where things go for Anna and James. B for The Countess’s Client.

Sincerely,

Janine

This book can be purchased in ebook format from Sony or other etailers.

REVIEW: The Privateer by Danielle Thorne

Jayne — Fri, 17 Apr 2009 21:00:36 +0000

Dear Ms Thorne,

I’ll come right out and admit that this book took me a long time to get into. There’s a huge cast of characters and while this normally doesn’t bother me, here I felt adrift for ages before I finally began to get a handle on them. And not only was I adrift in sheer numbers but unsure as to which ones were destined to play major vs. minor roles.

The plot meanders along and I had to have faith that at some point you’d tie it all together. And while the title indicates that this story will center on pirates and privateers, what we see for most of the book is the Royal Navy and only towards the end do any pirates show up. Perhaps the word unsettled best describes my feelings as I read it since it took a long time to settle into the story.

There are rumors swirling throughout the Caribbean. Something major is happening and it involves a mysterious pirate. His name is uncertain, his goal is unknown and the flag he sails under changes with each attack on any ship he finds. Julius Bertrand has his spies out trying to unravel the whole mess but up until now, he and Royal Naval Captain Shane Adair have had to hunt relentlessly through the islands to try and catch their man.

Miss Kate O’Connell and her father are recently arrived on the island of San Madrid. Formerly attached to the Navy himself, Dr. O’Connell and Kate have traveled the world far from their native city of Boston in the colony of Massachusetts. We quickly see that twenty-five year old Kate is an outspoken woman whose passionate defensive and offensive debates can put her at odds with polite society. While this might ruffle the feathers of the women, many of the men admire her spirit even if they come to rue being on her wrong side.

What no one on the island knows is that Julius Bertrand is as much a hunted man as he is a hunter of men. There’s a relentless old enemy with a score to settle and if he must pillage and destroy the island to get Bertrand, he’ll do it with a smile on his evil face.

So we’ve got Kate and Bertrand, Kate’s father, Bertrand’s crew, Miriam – a San Madrid shopkeeper, the various persons of society on the island, Captain Adair, some spies, a bad pirate, a loathsome planter and assorted other characters. Who goes with whom, who I should be cheering for and who should get booed when they show up took a lot of energy as I read the story. It took a long, damn time to become engaged with the characters and there is initially a lot of stuff introduced and explained and shown that only made me shrug and wonder why you took the time with it. For some of them, I could see why you kept me in the dark but for others, a scorecard would have been nice.

In a book called “The Privateer,” I expect some privateering. I expect more swashbuckling. I expect more adventure and not just all crammed in at the end. The blend of life on San Madrid and hunt for the pirate is not evenly done. I almost forget about the privateer aspect in all the social stuff on the island. Once the action truly begins, it’s a runaway train but we have to sit and sip a lot of tea before we get there.

Kate is impulsive and outspoken yet steadily so. You make this a central part of her personality from the start and while she might temper it slightly at the end, she’s still basically the same person. Points for this. I do like how she and her father are devoted to each other and her family support from Boston shows she is loved.

Bertrand is more of a mystery. There were times when I almost didn’t like him. His toadying to Lady Spencer left a bad taste in my mouth even after the explanation of his reasons. He goes to Kate after the shark attack to probe her feelings for him then proposes to another woman? WTH? But on the other hand, it did accurately convey the conventions of the time, namely that social position was very important and that people would sacrifice their feelings to advance.

McAllister – what’s the deal with him? I was left with the impression that he felt he had in some way betrayed Bertrand but the whole relationship was never finally explained to my satisfaction. There’s also a lot of things we have to wait until almost the end of the book to understand such as how Bertrand and Adair’s plans were known to the enemy, how Meriam knows all Bertrand’s secrets and Bertrand’s history with the pirates.

I don’t understand relationship between Meriam Beckett and Kate. Most of the time, Beckett is mad and spitting at Kate, enough that you have Kate recoiling as if she’d been slapped. Yet Kate keeps insisting the two are friends and at times, Meriam thinks so too. Again, much of this just doesn’t add up.

I also had problems with some of the adjectives you used. One character is described as having violent freckles – do they pick bar fights when they’re drunk? Jewels leaking from a casket make me think of calling a plumber. At one point you say that sounds of battle travel further than sights yet the sight of the battle is what was seen, and described, first. Anger splattered Kate’s face. Like a pie fight? The image of ragged breeches working on a ship made me laugh. Kate is described as shying away as if from something she can’t see. WTF? Why shy from something that’s invisible to you? Yet I will say that other descriptions were wonderful such as the nice imaging of the island shore before the shark attack or the island forests wreathed with stars at night.

There’s lots of violence that isn’t tempered. Readers need to be prepared. That being said, this is a pirate novel and I felt it was realistic for the genre, the characters involved and the time. My bloodthirsty inner wench was happy that both Bertrand and Kate end up taking care of their personal villains. There’s nothing left for any court to decide or take care of and no one is sent off somewhere to live in exile and repent all their days. That was very satisfying.

In the end, I am glad I persevered and finished the story. As long time readers here know, I adore a book that uses unusual times and/or places so “The Privateer” does get bonus points for that. I see from your MySpace page that this is one of your first published novels so I hope that you will continue to hone your craft. Despite this grade, I look to see more stories from you. C+

~Jayne

REVIEW: False Colors by Alex Beecroft

SarahF — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 22:00:32 +0000

Dear Ms. Beecroft:

Rarely, oh so rarely, I’ll read a book that is so sublime, so transcendent, I actually come away from it a little melancholy, because it’s over and I can never read it for the first time ever again, because I know I’ll never be able to do justice to it in my review or analysis, and because I know I won’t meet its equal for many a year. But the process of devouring the book, of eking out its layered, textured meaning, of savoring its descriptions, and the emotions–oh, the emotions!–leaves me flying for days and the melancholy only makes it all the sweeter.

This is one of those books. It ravished me. It scoured my insides. I feel like I’m stuck in it and I don’t ever want to get out.

False Colors is one of two debut releases (April 12) for Running Press’ new M/M Romance line that is being shelved in Romance in bookstores (and my mother, who works in Barnes & Noble [30% off all the time, baby!], checked for me–yes, it will be shelved in romance, at least in B&Ns across the country, and her store has five copies on order). I think it’s fascinating that they’re marketing it as “M/M Romance,” rather than as “Gay Romance,” thereby speaking directly to the mostly female online m/m market and ignoring (?) any potential gay male audience who probably aren’t often seen in the Romance aisle.

The book is set in 1762/3, in the Age of Sail (a la Patrick O’Brian–although I’ve never yet managed to get through a PO’B). John Cavendish is a Lieutenant in the Royal Navy who has just been given the captaincy of a French prize ship. But he is being used as a sacrificial lamb on the Barbary Coast, an excuse for the British to declare war when he’s sunk, and even though he knows this, he accepts his mission, as he must. Lieutenant Alfie Donwell volunteers to go with him, and they begin what John thinks is an unusually close friendship, but what Alfie knows is a slow seduction. Alfie’s seduction, in fact, is so gradual and tentative that John is still completely clueless when Alfie’s first captain, Charles Farrant, Lord Lisburn, a completely flamboyant gay man and Alfie’s first crush, arrives on the scene. John misreads the situation and assumed that Farrant abused Alfie as a young teenager. To avoid John calling Farrant out in revenge, Alfie reveals himself to John, who withdraws from his best friend in immediate and violent disgust. Alfie runs to Farrent’s ship and although John and Alfie actually spend very little of the rest of the book together, I almost didn’t notice, because they are so much in each other’s thoughts and motivations and actions as they slowly find their way back to each other.

Alfie understands his own proclivities. He knows and accepts, even appreciates, that he prefers men in a world that would see him hanged upon discovery. His pain lies in that he’s a romantic and the secretive life and anonymous encounters his preferences force him to accept will never allow him the companionship, love, and faithfulness he yearns for. John, on the other hand, is religious, resourceful, smart, and a natural leader, and doesn’t understand why the rest of the world has such problems with the chastity that’s so easy for him to achieve. He’s innocent only because he’s ignorant, and he’s a bit of a prig, although an adorable one. Farrant is older, wiser but so much more cynical than the two primary characters. He is married and loves his wife, platonically, but despairs of his own sexuality, except when he’s reveling in it. His life shows us what Alfie and John could end up as, without each other.

The true beauty of this book is its sweeping scope, both geographical and emotional, that reminds me of my favorite Laura Kinsale romance, Seize the Fire, also about a sailor (although set in the mid-nineteenth century). False Colors roams from Gibraltar and the Mediterranean, to Jamaica and pirates, to the Arctic and icebergs, back to Jamaica and reconciliation. But that physical geography pales in comparison to the mental and emotional journey both John and Alfie undergo. What makes the emotional landscape so broad, so devastating, is how the perfection of the characterization allows the barriers to and conflicts in their relationship to arise during the book, in reaction to their individual experiences and to the changes in the relationship. The best romances do this, I find. The characters must deal with the effects of their past on their present, but they must also deal with the new problems that arise in the present. John’s emotional journey, for example, is his discovery and acceptance of his own sexuality, done in his own personal way–that is, in accordance with his own understanding of his religion and his honor–that only arises because of his betrayal of Alfie when Alfie reveals himself to John. Alfie’s journey is more adapting to how he changes because of John’s betrayal and because of his affair with the self-destructive but sympathetic Farrant. John must realize, once he actually understands his own desire, that he is as fallible as anyone else in matters of the flesh, and that he loves Alfie enough to not only lie and cheat for him, but also to believe that lying and cheating are the right and honorable thing to do. Alfie must accept and forgive both John and Farrant for being who they are and relearn his acceptance of his sexuality and his joy in life.

I usually skim descriptions in books. That’s why I like Suzanne Brockmann so much–her books are mostly dialogue, very sparing with description. But the descriptions here are included so seamlessly and are so rich and rewarding that I savored each one, reveling in your wording and imagery. Light plays such a huge part in the atmosphere of this book. And smells–it’s the eighteenth century after all. There’s lots of smells. And temperature. In the Arctic:

Cold water dripped in a steady patter of drops from the orlop deck above and trickled down the stinking, filth-daubed bulkheads. A faint light shone through the two layers of canvas wrapped about the bow, drawing him to the hole in the hull. The greasy sails bowed inwards there, held in place against the gap by sheer pressure of water. Runnels, squeezed through the fabric, slid in the shifting light down into the ballast — it sucked marsh-like beneath his feet. Flickering light, and the deep, underwater silence, made him think of the stories of Davy Jones’ locker; of the cities beneath the waves, where mermaids dragged their captive souls to live damp and fishy lives far away from human love.

The battles and ship maneuvers are brilliantly depicted. Even when I didn’t know half of the words that were being thrown around, nautical as they were, I could figure out what’s going on, because the focus of the scenes–the focus of everything in the book–are the men, not the shipping terms. These men are men, tongue-tied and completely unable to articulate what they feel:

Bowing his head into his hands, he swallowed, rubbing his eyes. Damp under his fingertips seeped through his eyelashes. He sniffed to clear a nose that had unaccountably become blocked. His breath caught in his throat with a soft “ah”, and at the sound he dipped his pen again, angrily, drew it back to hover over the page.

In fact, the emotional weight of the story is in the internal thoughts of the characters not the dialogue. There’s so little these men can say aloud, not only because they don’t know how, but because, if they do, they might be killed. And usually, if books focus so much more on the internal that the dialogue becomes almost superfluous, I get very bored, very quickly. But this book is so well-written, so compelling, so rich and layered and textured, it was impossible to get bored, even on the third read-through. And even though John and Alfie spend almost half the book apart, I didn’t notice the lack of interaction, because their emotional lives, their primacy in each other’s thoughts despite their separation, was so well-demonstrated.

Additionally, I love how the politics of a one scene, apparently pertinent only to that scene, reverberate throughout this perfectly plotted book. That John succeeds at his mission on the Barbary Coast, for example, means that he loses his ship because his orders weren’t official and it looks like he attacked a neutral nation unprovoked. But later he is able to call in a life-saving favor because of this mission. But this plotting is all so subtly and naturally done,that I didn’t see it coming and could only marvel at it afterwards.

I have to quote what is, for me, the one most sublime moment in the whole novel:

It had seemed so simple. It had, after all, always been so simple before to curb his thoughts, to lose himself in mathematics or music, and emerge feeling purified. The mere knowledge of his desires should not make them ungovernable. Now it was as if his eyes had been opened. Blind, he hadn’t seen the beauty that surrounded him, but Alfie had given him sight.

On the first day afloat he had come out on deck and stopped dead, ravished by the turn of Lt. Oxford’s throat. Looking away, flushing, he saw the men of the lower deck with their shirts off in this mild weather, hauling on the ropes, their muscles limned in gleaming sweat.

Oh God no! he’d thought. God, no, please! But God, if he was watching, must have been laughing up his sleeve, because the sudden awareness had only grown.

The one problem I had, and I had to look hard for this, was that, on my third reread, Alfie’s final feeling of betrayal seemed the slightest bit contrived. Yes, my third reread, because I could not stop reading this book again and again. John betrays Alfie once, and then, Alfie thinks, betrays him again. And Alfie finds the second (non)betrayal as difficult to overcome mentally as the first. But to me, his perspective of the second betrayal seems slightly less natural and slightly more forced because necessary to the narrative than all the other emotion in this book. But the game of “will they or won’t they find their way back to each other” at the end of the book more than makes up for this minor flaw.

This stunning book is not an erotic romance. It’s a romance between two men, sure, but that doesn’t make it an erotic romance. It’s not focused on sex, even though it’s all about their sexuality — because the book does NOT shy away from dealing with the fear and shame and hatred of being a sodomite, an “invert” in the eighteenth century. This book is romance, pure and simple. I don’t think I’m giving anything away to say that John and Alfie don’t even kiss until the end, although there is one incredibly hot sex scene between them. But the emotions are so rich, so bright and hard and painful, even the good ones, that this book can be considered nothing less than the best of romance, heart-wrenching and perfect.

Grade: A

Sincerely and desperately looking forward to your next book,

-Joan/Sarah F.

This book can be purchased in trade paperback from Amazon. No ebook format.

REVIEW: The Pirate Bride by Shannon Drake

Jayne — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 21:00:42 +0000

Dear Ms. Drake,

It’s about time I tried one of your books. I do believe I actually have a few in my ever growing TBR book mountains but this is the one I chose. Why? Because (drumroll) it’s A Pirate Book! I was so excited when I saw the title and cover (though it doesn’t accurately convey what the heroine wears) that I knew I had to try it. I’m a pirate book lover from way back, having cut my teeth on “Captain Blood” and other Rafael Sabatini books. But when was the last time I actually see a new (non-Regency) swashbuckling book? Oh, ages and I’ve missed them.

The date is a bit past the “Brethren of the Coast” era but still within the time frame of the pirate era as we see from the inclusion of one of the secondary characters, Edward Teach – the famous Blackbeard himself. As with Teach, Captain Red Robert became a pirate in a round about way. None of which interests Laird Logan Haggerty when his ship is cornered by Red Robert. Foolishly he agreed to transport a treasure to the Colonies – a treasure that slowed down his ship and caused him to delay recruiting more hands.

Now Logan counts on the honor of pirates to demand single combat. If he wins, the treasure is divided with half going to his crew who will be free to sail on. If he loses, Red Robert and his crew get it all plus Logan’s ship. But either way, he will remain as a captive awaiting a ransom. Logan’s not thrilled with the terms but it’s the best he can hope for and the sword fight begins.

Even though Red Robert is a pretty darn good swordsman, Logan wins. Though barely. But something’s wrong about the situation. Robert is known for being somewhat effete and the more Logan looks at him, the more he realizes Red Robert is really something else. A woman, to be exact. And further more, all the crew knows it. When they reach the town of New Providence in the Bahamas, Logan proves his mettle even as he discovers that Red is after the same man who Logan’s hunted for years.

Blair Colm is evil incarnate though he works for the Crown. Both Logan and Red ended up in the Colonies due to Colm’s habit of selling young prisoners as indentured servants. Both of them also watched Colm kill their parents. Red has made her hunt into almost an obsession, letting nothing and no one stand in her way. She knows Colm is aware of her search, though not of her true identity and is equally aware she will find death at his hands should he ever catch her.

After disposing of the treasure and resupplying her ship, Red and her crew sail off only to be caught in a vicious storm. Washed overboard, she would have drowned except for Logan’s quick thinking in following her and their luck in grabbing a barrel that washes ashore on a deserted island. Now Red’s crew has to calculate the current patterns and hope that both survived to be found. And pray that they reach the two before Colm, known to be sailing in the area, discovers them first.

Red’s got a pirate-y crew complete with pirate-y names yet none of them end up coming across as cardboard characters. You give them depth and you give them personas. Peg-leg is obviously devoted to his captain and fiercely defends her against any skepticism. Silent Sam observes everything. Both are murder in a fight. O’Hara might be too quick a convert to the flock of the Church of Red but you give him a legitimate skill to offer the crew in exchange for his life and a chance to escape Colm. However, the laundry and bath detail does come across as cloying.

You also don’t sink to relying on stereotypical behavior when it comes to the actions of the pirates. There’s not an excess of swashbuckling merely for the sake of it. Red and Logan are quite willing to fight single combat in order to avoid damage to their ships and the potential loss of crewmen. Teach fosters his ruthless persona in order to influence merchantmen to willingly surrender to him rather than resist and risk injury. Logan plays on the well known superstition of seamen to save what he can of his cargo.

Red is a strong woman, both physically and intellectually. She knows her limitations and usually sticks to them. When she doesn’t, it’s because the opportunity to gain the revenge that’s driven her since childhood is too much for her to ignore. Her quest has become so single minded that at times it does overcome her common sense.

Colm is a delicious villain. He doesn’t foam at the mouth and rant histrionically nor does he indulge in any “tell all” moments before he and either Red or Logan fight. He’s cold, calculating evil. He works within the corrupt system and milks it for all it’s worth which, in a way, makes him even more awful. He nurtures his hate, considers his punitive actions and strikes where it’ll hurt the most. All of this makes it very realistic that so many people hate him and want him dead. Also that Red will risk her own safety to be sure, absolutely sure, he’s dead.

The tables are turned slightly in the “desire for revenge” category. Generally it’s the hero who is consumed past the point of idiocy with the drive to mete out his own version of justice on the one he thinks did him wrong. The heroine, meanwhile, acts as a tempering influence on his actions and sort of reigns him in when he threatens to run amok. Here it’s Red who won’t listen to Logan’s urgings to end her quest to kill Colm, to retire with the wealth she’s made as a pirate and find revenge in living a good, happy and long life. Logan lost as much as Red but didn’t suffer as she did during his indenture so I can see that it’s easier for him to be willing to turn away from the white hot need for vengeance.

The prologue puzzled me in that we see the defining moment when Colm killed the family of one of the protagonists (and it took me a long while to figure out which one featured in it) but not both. I’m curious as to why you selected to show the actions against only one and that particular one. Is it to show that despite the horror of watching his mother’s death, Logan was still able to think logically about the situation and overcome his need to revenge his family?

As I read the glowing adjectives used by Logan to describe his hoped for fiancee Cassandra (would she have been described as Lady Bethany? No, I don’t think so) I had a horrible feeling that she would morph into a cosmic shrew when she finally stepped on stage but, yippee skippee, she turned out to be an intelligent, intrepid, shrewd character who coolly measured up the situation she and her father (a wonderful, honorable man) were in and sought to ensure their safety as best she could.

Being stranded on a desert island sure is easier with a lot of salvaged cargo. Red and Logan almost had something looking like a Sandal’s resort cottage by the time they were finished. Okay, I’m being unreasonable here but I would like to have seen them have to rough it and use their ingenuity to survive rather than just cracking open yet another barrel and discovering the sugar to go in their fine porcelain cups of tea. The exception being when Red discovers a crate of books and squees with joy. Gotta love a woman who loves books. This section was useful in letting them examine their past lives and show each other their individual need for revenge on Colm but ended up circling the same topics too much. But points for their clever, is somewhat stomach turning, subterfuge to cover their tracks.

The epilogue is one of these sugary sweet Care Bear (® Mrs. Giggles) ones that’s almost best to skip. Did everyone have to get paired off for a HEA after the immense treasure was located so everyone would also be filthy rich? After reading it, I guess so.

But despite the few problems I had with the story and characters, I’m thrilled that you wrote it and that I got a chance to indulge my inner “Avast Me hearties” self. Arrrrrr. B

~Jayne

This book can be purchased in mass market from Amazon or ebook format from the Sony Store and other etailers.

REVIEW: Untamed by Pamela Clare

Jayne — Mon, 22 Dec 2008 10:00:01 +0000

Dear Ms. Clare,

After Michael Mann made the French and Indian Wars sexy, a few authors began to use this mainly forgotten episode in North American history. However, you’ve taken it to a whole new level by using it for not only one but two historical series. Brava you!

Major Morgan MacKinnon knows that, even desperately wounded, he’ll live long enough for the French who’ve captured him to try to beat information out of him. After all, he and his Rangers have bedeviled the French and their allies for years now with superior woodland and soldiering skills. A chance to extract vital details from him about the Rangers and their British overlords will not only be militarily beneficial but also an opportunity for a little revenge. But it will take more than the French can dish out for Morgan to break. He’ll never betray his brothers in arms.

Yet he wouldn’t be human if his blood didn’t run cold at the thought of what the French commander plans to do with him after the interrogation. The Abenaki, one of France’s Indian allies, have long hungered for revenge for the attack the Rangers carried out against an Abenaki village. And as the French gleefully tell Morgan, he’ll feed the fires – literally – of Abenaki hatred. His only option to avoid a fate worse than death is to tell General Bourlemaque what he wants to know and then the commander will see to it that Morgan, a Catholic Highlander, is given last rites and killed quickly. Some choice.

Which is why Morgan refuses it until Amalie Chauvenet, the young metisse daughter of a now dead French officer, offers Bourlemaque the key to turning Morgan. After he tells the lovely woman who nursed him back to health about how he and his brothers were forced to fight for the British even though their historical loyalty was to the French allies of the Highlanders dispossessed after the failed Rebellion of ’45, she sees the opportunity for Bourlemaque to enlist Morgan for the French. He can then fight for a Catholic king and thumb his nose at the British officer who blackmailed him into the service of England. For Morgan it’s a chance for life. But only if he can keep the French from realizing the double game he’s embarked on.

“Untamed” is a bit of a throw back to the historical novels of yesteryear. It’s longer than many books published lately and uses a different setting. It’s packed with historical details which add to the feel of the story and features some genuine conflicts and long term consequences. The hero is noble in thought, word and deed so the dilemma he faces is truly agonizing for him. The heroine has real reasons to initially hate him since he and his men were responsible for the death of her father and did do the deed – though they had their reasons – for which the Abenaki seek revenge.

War is ugly and we see that in full throughout the book. Spying is something that most men of the age thought abhorrent and we see that too. Violence is real and always lurking to snatch those who aren’t strong enough or wily enough to escape it. Life is rough during this book and you don’t sugar coat that. As Morgan says, the frontier is a hard place, especially on the women.
Even though the rest of the review is going to state what I didn’t like or that bothered me, keep these two paragraphs in mind to explain my final grade. Okay on to what bugged me.

Enough with the heroine’s hair! In case someone misses the 23 references to it, let me say the heroine has long, beautiful, wavy hair. This doesn’t change over the course of the book and no one’s opinion of it changes so I’m mystified as to the reason to be told again and again about it. Same with Morgan’s height and the size of his arms. He’s big all over and I say that with both a straight face and a smirk.

As for the Rangers, I couldn’t help thinking of them as full sized dwarfs as they walked with Amalie and Morgan away from the fight with the Abenaki. They’re just so sweet and bashful towards Snow White – ah, sorry – Amalie. However, I did enjoy the male comradeship complete with the wounded Ranger Morgan’s trying to carry while under fire from the French yelling to him, “You run like a lass! Can you no’ go faster?”

How is it that Lady Anne has acquired a Highland brogue? I can see a little vocal assimilation over the course of her marriage but sheesh, she sounds like a wee Highland lassie now. And why would she have lost her title of Lady? As the daughter of an Earl, wouldn’t she carry it for life no matter who she married?

I will admit to skimming almost all the love scenes. I’ve read them countless times before in other books and after reading one here, saw that they would offer nothing new.

The middle section of the book sagged a bit after Morgan had started playing his double crossing game with Bourlamaque. Lots of his and hers lusting, tons of scenes of Amalie shedding her innocence as she’s awakened to the flames of passion, lots of smoldering hate with Rillieux – who was basically nothing but a puppet villain though I was happy that once he was out of the book, there was no chance of him suddenly showing up again to cause one last conflict.

Och, the Highland brogue. There isna a page of the book wi’out it. Something I kenned early on. Those who cannae stand it will either hafta put up wi’ it or bail out early. But I did learn several interesting new Gaelic words such as how to call someone a whoreson. “Macdiolian” for those who want a new curse word for their vocabulary. Never let it be said romance books aren’t instructive.

Why is it that all heroes of the French and Indian Wars books have to look like Daniel Day Lewis? Complete with long, dark braided hair, blue arm tattoos and buckskin clothes? Please God, give me a blond hero someday.

But at least there’re real conflicts going on here. Morgan is faced with a horrible death or betraying his brothers and brothers in arms. He also sees what life could be for him serving under the command of an officer he respects and also one who is Catholic. By books end, he is torn at the thought of either losing Amalie or taking her with him into a life on the run from both sides.

No doubt Connor will have his story in due time yet I can’t help but want to see Lord William Wentworth brought to his knees by some strong woman. I await either or both with intense interest. Thanks for not leaving us hanging with this series. B

~Jayne

This book can be purchased in mass market from Amazon or ebook format (Kindle only as far as I can see).

REVIEW: Bound by Sally Gunning

Jayne — Sat, 05 Apr 2008 21:00:04 +0000

Dear Mrs Gunning,

A friend of mine told me about your first book in this series. Raved about it in fact. And I had put it down on my TBB list but just never got around to making the purchase. When Jane sent me the arc for “Bound,” I got all excited and told myself that this one would be a book I was definitely going to try.

I love how you unobtrusively slipped in the everyday details of life in mid 18th century America. From producing cloth to sailing to Cape Cod to disseminating information in a world with no Internet nor 24 hour TV newscasters. I learned a great deal about indentured servitude, politics, how important religion still was in the Massachusetts colony and the many varied ways that women could be screwed over by men and the system. Literally. It’s almost enough to make a modern girl weep.

Alice Cole has only the vaguest memories of London, nightmares about the passage to America which cost the lives of her mother and two brothers, and dreams about the life she would like to have with her father in Philadelphia. But financial realities determine that he has her bound in order to pay her passage. At age seven she begins eleven years of service of which only eight had been completed before the daughter of the house marries. Alice is sent with Abigail to her new home to finish her contract and almost immediately discovers how helpless she is in the face of the sexual abuse her new master casually inflicts on her.

When she realizes she’ll get no help from Abigail, she flees. When she finds no assistance from her former master, she runs even farther. A chance encounter near the docks of Boston determine her fate as she stows away on a ship headed back to Cape Cod. And at this point in her life, finally luck throws her a few crumbs.

Lyddie Berry is a woman who knows how hard life can be on a woman. And she senses that regardless of what Alice will admit to, life has knocked her around too. Lyddie’s boarder is less ready to trust the young woman and gives Alice all the rope needed to hang herself. But after a while, even Eben Freeman admits that Alice is a hard worker, trustworthy in all things except her mysterious past and not one to shirk a task. But how far will these two be willing go to help when Alice’s past finally catches up with her?

Alice is bound to her master as America was bound to England. Eben Freeman sues for Alice’s freedom from the laws binding her “with cause.” It ends up costing her to gain her freedom from the oppression of Verley even though she was the injured party just as it will ultimately end up costing America to gain its freedom from England. Just as I learned much about indentured servants, I discovered I still have some things to learn about American history namely about James Otis and how he helped spark the cause of liberty in Boston. As I finished the book I wondered if Alice’s mother and brothers hadn’t died, would she and her father have separated into servitude? As well, if James Otis hadn’t fanned the flames of rebellion would we have ventured down the road to independence from England when we did?

I was frankly astounded that Alice can’t speak in her own defense during either trial. Clearly I have a lot to learn about trial law in the 18th century. I wasn’t as surprised to learn that she’s subjected to men no matter where she turns – her first master turns her over to Verley who abuses her then when she runs, Verley can place ad to get her back. She must suffer the loss of her reputation due to what was done to her yet is still dependent on a male lawyer to argue for her and an all male jury to judge her. All of this reinforces what Widow Berry has already learned, that a woman’s independence is a hard won thing and not to be taken lightly. I can see the fact that Alice is still too young to realize how important that is and why Lyddie refuses to remarry.

The book is sparse in dialogue. These aren’t intellectuals who debate for fun nor hold salons. They’re hardworking people who can’t afford the luxury of endless chatter. Life is hard and you must work non stop in order to provide for you and yours. The descriptions of Cape Cod are wonderful: the land, the sea, the seasons, the flow of life there. We see neighbors pulling together (at the watermelon frolic) and sitting in judgment on each other (during trial). Church is still important and Alice is shocked when Lyddie not only doesn’t go to meeting but actually works on the Sabbath.

One question I’m still working out is why does Alice make the choice she does at book’s end? I can see why she denies her pregnancy both to herself (if I deny it, it doesn’t exist) and Widow Berry and Freeman (if I deny it, I can stay in place of safety for that much longer). But Widow has put up money and Freeman has given of his time to remove her from Verley. I suppose she’s looking to start fresh, away from the lies and judgments she left in Cape Cod.

I’m glad to have had a chance to try your work and have already purchased an ebook copy of “The Widow’s War” (love the instant gratification of ebooks!). After a trip to your website, I’m happy to see that you have further plans for novels set in this world and eagerly await them. B for “Bound.”

~Jayne

Available as a hardcover Amazon and at Powells or ebook

REVIEW: Mistress of the Revolution by Catherine Delors

Jayne — Thu, 13 Mar 2008 20:00:13 +0000

Dear Ms. Delors,

First, I must compliment you on your mastery of the English language. It wasn’t until I was over halfway through the book that I went to your website and read your bio. Are there plans to translate the book into French? Second, I must say brava for managing to convey what was going on without the book turning into a history lecture – and this is five years of madly shifting politics and complete social upheaval. You are also able to show the changes from not only the viewpoint of the aristocracy – those for whom things are getting worse – but also of the peasants and bourgeoisie – those for whom things were looking up.

There are really two stories here: first about Gabrielle’s life and second about late 18th Century France just before and during the Revolution. It’s bittersweet story of love found, lost and found again. I don’t think it has so much a happy ending as a realistic one. The times were uncertain and it seems that most of the major Revolutionary figures ultimately came to brutal ends. While reading it, I tried to remember that most of them were not necessarily bloodthirsty people but men trying to mold a totally new nation and society on the fantastic ideals of equality, liberty and brotherhood. That events went too far is obvious, that they somehow lost control is a certainty but their goals were admirable.

As I read, I couldn’t help making a few comparisons between the young Gabrielle, barely educated and unsophisticated, and the heroine of the Angelique novels. Both are country raised daughters of impoverished French nobility. Both were brought up in ways that confound my notions of rich, indolent aristos living in luxury. Both end up getting some hard knocks from life. The detail you provide of life in French countryside is amazing. The story of Gabrielle’s cheapskate mother, controlling brother and ghastly first husband is chilling. Today it’s mind boggling to read about a woman who doesn’t see her own daughter from the child’s birth until she’s eleven years old. Was this normal for the aristocracy? Thank God I didn’t live like this.

After her ‘living hell’ of a marriage was over, I totally agree with Gabrielle’s decision to strike out on her own and head for Paris. But then given her husband’s will, she really had no choice. Did you take the details of that from actual wills? Hopefully not the family ones you mentioned at your website. Though Gabrielle ends up making some bad choices in life, I think they all, in the end, were her attempt to be able to provide for herself and not to be dependent on the uncertainties of a man’s whim.

I enjoyed reading about Gabrielle’s Abbess sister, Helene who seems one of the few family members who ever really loved her. Would Gabrielle have given into Viller’s entreaties without the information conveyed to her by Helene – i.e. what constitutes sin? Would she have been able to survive what was to come if she hadn’t? This first section seems to show that, for some, life was lovely then but for most it was awful – i.e. the lettres de cachet (as I remember depicted in Evelyn Anthony’s “The French Bride,”) lack of parental love/feeling, subjugation of wives, how horrible life was at Versailles with cabals/cliques and dirty living conditions. In other words, the beautiful world wasn’t really so beautiful.

So, should Gabrielle have fled France with the other émigrés? I can see why she didn’t want to leave – because she was one of the upper-class who believed in the ideals of what could happen as the country totally changed from the hidebound aristocratic privileged world it had been for centuries, because she saw the possibility of a new and wonderful world and she wanted to be part of it. And also because this was her home, she loved it and who ever wants to leave their home? One keeps hoping until the last that things will improve or at least not get any worse and that one’s world will be all right. I laughed at the mention of female rights and Gabrielle’s wry observation that most of the male Revolutionaries were conspicuously silent on giving women equal rights with men. She and Abigail Adams should have sat down to tea to commiserate.

Aurelien de Villers – what a total breakdown of a man. At first he seemed so charming and I agreed with Gabrielle’s desire to marry, despite her first marriage, and be secure. Then he seemed to be behind the social changes and determined to be a part of them and see that France became what the Revolution promised. And then — whoa Nelly, what happened to him? Was this the effect of the massive changes going on in his world? That he was losing control of his input into the Revolutionary changes and he had to maintain control over something and that something was Gabrielle?

Pierre-André Coffinhal was a (literally) larger than life Revolutionary figure about whom I’d never heard a word before this book. It was thought provoking what he said about trials during the ancient regime (again as in, for example, the Angelique novels) and how the Tribunal was better. With so much historical emphasis on the Terror that came after, it’s easy to lose sight of the fact that in the early days of the Revolution the accused did have attorneys and that some of them were acquitted.

A quick check didn’t reveal much information on the Internet about Coffinhal in English. It was poignant when Gabrielle mused on what their lives would have been like had they been allowed to marry when younger, or if she had sought him out when she arrived in Paris. But as you say, he does have his cruel side and threatens Gabrielle at times and often repeats his order for her never to importune him for favors. Yet when she does (and she does it for good reasons and not just on a whim – she was steadfastly loyal herself, as he was to Robespierre, to those for whom she felt obligations showing a true example of noblesse oblige) he almost always gives in to her and tries to do what she asks even though he is in as much danger as anyone else.

His life was a good lesson of the times. It doesn’t matter who you are or how high you stand in the hierarchy – you can go down in an instant. Thanks for introducing me to several historical figures of the Revolution of whom I knew nothing and for trying to show events from the standpoint of each character and not historical viewpoint (i.e. Marie Antoinette’s trial from Coffinhal’s POV).

The first person POV worked well for the beginning of the novel. But later it means that Gabrielle can’t be at most of the early historic events of the Revolution and has to learn of and about them from people she knows who were there. It kind of makes these events seem distant and leads to a past tense/dissociated feel. It wasn’t until things began to impact Gabrielle directly that I started to get a feeling of immediacy again.

And what horrible events they were: Gabrielle’s imprisonment at La Force and the storming of the Tuileries. Chevelier des Huttes’s death – oh, how awful – and the fate of the Princess de Lamballe – my knees were weak as I read. One of the most interesting tertiary characters was Martial – the guard at La Force who befriended and stood by Gabrielle – even promising to make sure she was killed quickly and painlessly. Well, I guess you have to take what niceness in the world you can find.

In the end I see Gabrielle as strong and as a survivor. She survived her childhood, her first marriage, the Revolution and the loss of so many who were close to her. She saw her world upended yet managed to save herself and her daughter. And in the world you so fantastically portray, that’s no mean feat. I would liked to have seen a little more of how she ended up in England but with the length of the novel, it’s understandable that you needed to make some cuts. I have one final albeit trivial question. Were you refering to the Beast of Gevaudan early in the book? Just curious. B

~Jayne

available in hardcover

REVIEW: Marike’s World by Catherine Rae

Jayne — Thu, 17 Jan 2008 09:00:35 +0000

Dear Ms Rae,

Your book, “Marike’s World” sounded so interesting. Set during the turbulent years of the American Revolution, I had hoped to see it through the eyes of this young Dutch-American woman. Instead what I got was literally only Marike’s world and not much else.

The story reads more like a soap opera about Marike’s life. We see her as a young woman scrubbing the house, falling in love, getting in trouble, having a child, finally getting married then living with her awful mother-in-law, then the troubles with her sister-in-law. Okaaaaay.

Yes it’s a historical and we see how cold the winters were and how hard Dutch women worked but it could almost have been set in any time before the mid 19th century. Very little of the momentous events going on, the Revolution and the early setting up of a new nation, seem to affect these people and precious little mention is made beyond “we heard later that…” or “it was said that…” It was like watching someone skip stones – random mention was made of these events and with about that much depth. Philip fought for a year but all we hear is that he stood guard duty and hated it and that he was cold and hungry. They lived in NYC while it was controlled by the British and the most we get is that they didn’t bother Philip because they needed the supplies from his chandler’s shop to outfit their ships. I mean….come on. These people hardly seemed to notice what was going on around them. Most of what we get is Marike dealing with her in-laws and the awful man her sister-in-law took up with.

Marike’s a nice person but rather bland so …why did you choose to tell this story? What I gained from it is no real sense of the history, a little about the place and weather, some about the interaction of the native Indians with the Colonists but not much more. It was a fast read, it wasn’t a hardship to read it, but I don’t really feel a great impetus to recommend it to anyone. C

~Jayne

This book is out of print but still can be purchased either in e-form or on the secondary market.

REVIEW: Lord John and the Hand of Devils by Diana Gabaldon

Jayne — Tue, 27 Nov 2007 20:00:48 +0000

Dear Mrs Gabaldon,

I put pen to paper to tell you how much I have enjoyed the latest batch of short stories about Lord John Gray. I think he is, by far, my favorite character you’ve invented and I dare to hope that you have several more stories in mind for him beyond the one you’ve already promised us. As always your writing is filled with great period feel and historical details which are so nicely fitted into the storytelling that there’s no awkward “take note of this class” feel to them. The information flows and the story flows with it. I feel that I am in the house of a celebrated London hostess as dark undercurrents of the Hellfire Club ebb and swirl. Or in a dank German graveyard with a tipsy band of soldiers trying to discover in which grave a succubus is lying. And finally waiting in the Arsenal, trying to stifle my startled jumps as cannon are fired mere yards away.

Each story starts with Lord John being presented with a mystery to be solved, none of which he can ignore. Who killed a young man John met once in the Lavender House and how does this tie into the infamous group known for their black masses, drugged whores and depravity? What was the cause of death for a soldier in wartime Germany and how can their commanders keep their other troops from being too scared to fight? And what caused the explosion of the cannon manned by John during one German battle and how does this tie into a missing young woman and his half brother’s powder factory? By the end of all three stories, the disparate elements all come together with Occam’s Razor-like quality. Everything fits together no matter how unrelated it all appears at the story’s beginning and makes perfect sense.

As Lord John says, fighting (being a soldier) is hard but nothing on politics. You don’t just tell us how complicated the political scene was then (but then when have politics ever been clear cut?) but show us the murky depths in which these sharks swam. We see how good a soldier John is by the way he deals with the not only his superiors but also the men under his command. Superstitions ruled the day and shaped the lives of the enlisted men and any officer who ignored or was unaware of them would pay for his absentmindedness. Add to that the fact that John has to liaison between the English and their German allies, fend off an amorous widow and deal with a potential Gypsy curse and we see that he has to tread very carefully no matter if he’s on duty or not.

I love the character of Tom Byrd, John’s valet. You just can’t get good servants like him anymore. I laughed at John’s description of his handsome but amazingly intelligence-spared half brother Edgar. I felt John’s caution in expressing his true inclinations to a potential lover and his regret that those feelings would not be acted upon. But oh Lord, there’s more Jamie Fraser worship. Will John ever be over his attachment to the Scot? Thankfully, Jamie doesn’t intrude too much into these stories. Did seeing the artillery ghost at the Arsenal mean that John had luck in solving the mystery of the exploding cannons? I also debated with myself about who was worse to poor abandoned Anne Thackery, the one who left her pregnant or the one who took such horrible advantage of her plight? John’s compassion in this matter, even if initially only grudgingly given, shows him to be a man of honor.

Thank you for including an order in which these stories can be read. Since I’m reading them all out of order, it shows that readers don’t have to be anal about that. I think people should know that the last story comes about from an incident in previous book (Brotherhood of the Blade). It’s not necessary to have read it first though as there is ample explanation without it turning into a book synopsis. Previous Lord John fans will find much to enjoy here yet I think it is also welcoming to newbies. Good job. B

~Jayne

This book can be purchased in hardcover or ebook format ($9.75 from BooksonBoard).

REVIEW: Manga review: Emma: A Victorian Romance by Kaoru Mori

Jan — Thu, 22 Feb 2007 10:00:44 +0000

Emma by Kaoru Mori. Published by CMX. Retail: $9.99 2/7 Volumes released in English. Series complete in Japanese. Rated T+ (teens and up; female nudity in a matter of fact manner, mild sexual references, kissing) . A-

Note: I feel distinctly uncomfortable addressing a frank letter to a Japanese mangaka. It’s so… Ugly American. So I will be addressing readers for the most part in these reviews so that I don’t have to be so circumspect.

Dear Readers,

One thing you’ll discover if you read much manga is that accuracy in setting isn’t something that really concerns most mangaka, if a story is set outside Japan. But there are exceptions. Emma is one of them.

Admittedly, there are a few things used here and there that are slightly anachronistic, such as having a model airplane in a few panels well before the first one ever flew, but they are used to make the story a little more colorful and are not major plot points so they don’t bother me. It’s the feel of the story I love.

I opened this manga expecting a lot of the typical Japanese trappings for romance. Instead I was pleasantly surprised to find something that felt very British to me (I’m an American, so I admit that it might not feel that way to the Brits.). The pacing, the main characters, the detail in the artwork, especially the drawings of London, and the period feel (1896) are all well done.

The romance is a nice one as well. Both Emma and Mr. Jones feel very like they must have been: a maid trying to become better than she is but knowing there are some boundaries she should not cross, and a rash young man who has fallen in love and won’t listen to reason about those very things. I love how they try to do what’s right by society’s rules, but unhappiness, and awareness of what they’re missing eventually overwhelms them and brings them together again. In the end there are no magical answers for the two of them, even though they do get some unexpected help along the way. Their relationship felt real to me.

This is a romance for older teens, so it has its share of emotional romantic moments, such as here, where the h/h are reunited at one point (panels are read right to left, top to bottom).

But it also has more than its share of quiet reflective moments, such as a lovely but sad chapter where Emma goes through the motions of cleaning her mistress / teacher’s house after the older woman dies. There’s very little dialogue but it says plenty: One thing that may genuinely bother readers concerned with authenticity is the most colorful and lively character, Hakim Atawari, Mr Jones’ best friend, an Indian prince. Everything about Hakim is fantastical, especially his free and open interactions with British upper class society. However, he brings such life and fun to it, that I for one do not care about his authenticity. I have learned to view such things as windows into the Japanese mind and to enjoy them as they come.

Other readers however, might prefer to have those windows closed when they’re reading about Victorian London. But to me, it’s one of the things I like best about Emma (and manga in general), comparing it to what I know of history, and pondering why things were interpreted such a way through a Japanese lens. And Hakim is just charming.

So unless you’re one of those readers from the Regency list for whom mention of a spoon made of a certain metal alloy at the bottom of page 87 when that particular metallurgy wasn’t introduced until 1825 which is decidedly not Regency just ruined the whole book for you, then you should be able to enjoy this romance despite the few things that might be off. Because seriously, for manga, this is very well researched, and very true to its times.

Right now only the first two volumes of the seven book series are out in English. I have already read all seven volumes from the Japanese, and can assure you that it belongs on a romance list. I think this story is one of the most accessible for Western lovers of romance, and urge anyone interested to pick up the first two volumes and give it a try.

Sincerely,

ã‚¸ã‚§ãƒ¼ãƒ³
(JÄn)

REVIEW: Devil in Winter by Lisa Kleypas

Janine — Tue, 02 Jan 2007 22:00:22 +0000

Dear Ms. Kleypas,

I realize I’m probably the last person in the solar system to read this book, but read it I did. It took me a while to get to it because I was disappointed in the previous entry in your Wallflowers series, It Happened One Autumn, so I am happy to say that I enjoyed Devil in Winter very much.

Evangeline “Evie” Jenner is shy, prone to stuttering, and the daughter of an ex-boxer and gambling club owner, so despite her considerable fortune, no gentlemen have offered for her. Evie lives with her mother’s nasty relatives, the Maybricks, and now the Maybricks have decided to keep her father’s fortune in the family by marrying Evie to her cousin Eustace. Not only is Evie not even a little attracted to Eustace, she knows that she will never get out from under the Maybricks’ thumb if she marries her cousin. And getting away from the Maybricks has become imperative: Evie’s father is close to death, and the Maybricks’ won’t let her go to him.

So Evie takes matters into her own hands. She escapes the Maybricks’ home and goes unchaperoned to see Sebastian, Viscount St. Vincent, a notorious rake who kidnapped Evie’s friend Lillian because she was an heiress and he desperately needed to marry into money. Evie figures that if Sebastian is that desperate, he won’t sneer at the idea of marrying her instead.

And indeed, Sebastian, once he’s done getting over his surprise, agrees to Evie’s proposal. He will marry her for her fortune and free her to visit her father at his deathbed. There is one condition of Evie’s that Sebastian doesn’t care for: they will consummate the marriage to make it legal, but after that, no sex. Evie doesn’t want to fall in love with a man who is sure to become a philanderer.

Sebastian and Evie journey to Gretna Green together in miserable, snowy conditions. They marry, and that consummation scene? Hot, hot, hot. Once back in England, the newlyweds move into the gambling club. Evie nurses her father while Sebastian takes stock of the club. He realizes that its worth isn’t as much as Evie and he had believed, so he throws himself into the work of turning the club around. For Evie, her now hard-working husband is a temptation, and she wonders if she should allow their marriage to become real.

What Devil in Winter proved to me is that as tired of rake-and-virgin pairings as I sometimes feel I am, an author with a talent for creating chemistry between her main characters can still find gold in that much-mined vein.

Chemistry is one thing the pairing of Sebastian and Evie has plenty of. Sebastian isn’t quite the devil of the title, but he has a languid and slightly dangerous demeanor that makes him magnetic to Evie. Intellectually I know that a stuttering virgin like Evie should not attract a rake like Sebastian, but when I read their scenes together, I can feel the attraction between them, almost as if I were in the same room with a couple who can’t look away from one another, and that makes all the difference.

Another aspect of the book I liked was its gambling club setting. It was a welcome change from the London houses and country mansions where so many nineteenth century historicals take place.

My main quibbles with this book are twofold. First, I felt that the characters’ transformations were too easy. Evie loses her stutter and finds her confidence without much of a struggle, and in Sebastian’s case, his overnight transformation from bored pleasure-seeker to an industrious club owner should have left me in disbelief. That I was having too much fun to care is a tribute to your ability to make the interactions between Sebastian and Evie sparkle. Second, I felt that the book wobbled a bit when the other wallflowers entered the stage. Anabelle, Daisy and Lillian’s presence felt obligatory at times, and in particular, Lillian and her husband Marcus’s forgiveness of Sebastian for kidnapping and threatening to rape Lillian felt much too quick.

All of this made me aware that the people I was reading about inhabit a happily-ever-after world that doesn’t bear much resemblance to this one. But again, my thoughts on these are just that — thoughts. My feelings, on the other hand, were completely engaged when I read the book. This was the most fun I’ve had reading one of your books in years. B.

Sincerely,

Janine

REVIEW: Forbidden by Susan Johnson

Jane — Tue, 21 Nov 2006 09:00:44 +0000

Dear Ms. Johnson:

Long before there was Jaid Black and Ellora’s Cave. Long before the rise of erotic romance and the publication of lines like Aphrodisia, Spice, and Avon Red, there were authors like you who wrote historically rich, emotionally deep and impossibly erotic romances. There are three of your books that I re-read with some frequency and this is one of them.

Forbidden is a book full of rule breakers. The book itself is a rule breaker because it features a heroine who is a minority, an Absarokee Indian; a hero who is married and then proceeds to get a divorce; a heroine who lost her virginity well before meeting up with the hero; a hero who actually has adult children and one grandchild; and a long separation; it’s set in 1891 and its in France and America. You would think that all of those things would tend to irritate the crap out of people but Forbidden is still in print today, some fifteen years after its original publication in 1991.

But it is your rule breaking that makes this book so wonderful. Daisy Black is a serious person, not given to frivolity. Raised amonst the Absarokee tribe in the region of Montana, Daisy has been imbued with a sense of purpose and devotion to her people and her land. Her father went to Harvard and when she was of age, Daisy went to Harvard as well. She became one of fifty female lawyers in America and represented her tribe’s land interests in court and out. Her half brother, Trey, begs her to go to France to oversee the succession rights of a member of Trey’s family. Daisy agrees reluctantly.

Etienne, Duc de Vec, is a man of great passion and excess. From the beginning he seems ill suited for Daisy. Daisy views him with disdain as she perceives his life is devoted to pleasure, everything about him as anethma to her. Etienne’s marriage is a dynastic one and since the requisite heir was born his wife and he have had little do with one another. They co exist side by side in society with little common interests. She has never minded his affairs in the past and she really doesn’t begrudge him Daisy. When Daisy and Duc first meet, they are both a bit unimpressed with the other. Daisy because he’s a profligate wastrel and Duc because she’s just another woman who would bed him for his wealth and not much else.

Of course, their passion for life makes them a perfect match; the serious Daisy is evened out by the live for pleasure Duc. Etienne’s life of frivolity is given meaning by Daisy’s love. Their need to be together gives rise to Etienne shocking society and his wife by filing for divorce. What proceeds is one of the nastiest divorce fights I’ve ever encountered, in fiction and real life. The suspense is whether Etienne can actually get divorced. His seeming inability to overcome his wife’s influence with the church and the monarchists (her cousin is the Archbishop) drives Daisy to believe that it isn’t meant to be; that the spirits do not intend for them to be together. Daisy returns to America. Time, distance and her belief that the divorce will never happen leads her to end things with Etienne.

There is a great scene in which Daisy and Etienne exchange frank and heartbreaking telegraphs.

Don’t understand. Won’t understand. Can’t understand. You’re killing me, he added at the last, a wrenching admission for a man of his pride.

I’m sorry. Words of duty, practical words, words that dimmed the sun.

Don’t be. I’m not. Etienne had replied, a prideful man, resentful and frustrated after two hours in the telegraph office at the Bourse under the interested scrutiny of the key operator. Affronted at having exposed his private life to the world, he stalked out of the office and strode to the Jockey Club to drink himself into an oblivious state of disregard for all women, friends or otherwise.

This book is a series of great scenes. There were great love scenes, particularly the ones where Etienne and Daisy make love in his lodge in Colsec. The scene in which Etienne and Daisy’s father and brother meet on the polo grounds in Newport and try to kill each other. Etienne and Daisy’s reunion. The flaw to this beautiful romance is its wordiness. What some authors can say in only 5 words, you use 15. For some reason, because of the lushness of this story, the grand passion, the expansive nature of the love between Daisy and Etienne, the wordiness fit. I am thankful that this is a book I can revisit frequently, particularly in this day of erotic romances, just to remind myself of how a really good erotic romance reads.

Best regards,

Jane

REVIEW: The Smoke Thief by Shana Abé

Janine — Mon, 20 Nov 2006 22:00:30 +0000

Dear Ms. Abé,

Imagine a place so ripe and thick with the promise of magic that the very air breathes in plumes of pearl and gray and smoky blue; that the trees bow with the weight of their heavy branches, dipping low to the ground, dropping needles and leaves into beds of perfume. A place of white sparkling mountains and black forests and one high, ancient castle. Of diamonds that churn up raw from the marrow of the earth to lace the woods, unseen, in necklaces of ice and fire.

The first book in your drákon series begins in this fashion, with a prologue that tells of a species of dragons who, in order to survive the encroachment of mankind, took human shape and traveled from their home in Eastern Europe to England. Although I am usually a fan of luxurious language, the descriptions in the prologue verge on being too rich for my blood. They are very effective at conveying that drákon’s origins are the stuff of fables, but I am nonetheless glad when the prologue gives way to chapter one and The Smoke Thief settles into a lovely style that is still poetic, but more restrained.

The girls had paused in a soft valley between the hills, clutching their hats as the breeze turned brisker. Sunlight showed honeyed locks flying and flaxen, strawberry blond and ginger red. Four girls, smiling and chattering amid the green. Someone loosed her flowers, and the August wind blew them into bright confusion.

The year is 1737 and the girls are being observed by sixteen year old Kit Langford, Earl of Chasen, just as his father, the Marquess of Langford, and the men on the drá kon’s council are discussing the fact that no female in four generations has completed what they call the Turn. Kit, bored with the discussion, watches as a younger, mouse-like girl appears in the meadow and the other four girls begin to chase her. She is Clarissa, whose father was human, and who for that reason is considered a "Halfling" of no importance to the drá kon tribe. Kit gives little thought to Clarissa, who is in love with him, and five years later, when he is away at school, he learns that she has drowned.

Nine more years pass, by which time Kit’s father has died and Kit has become the tribe’s alpha. He and the others on the council are plagued by the growing notoriety of a London jewel thief associated with smoke, dubbed "The Smoke Thief" by the press. Such a thief could only be a runner, a member of the tribe broke their laws and escaped their village of Darkfrith. To do so is punishable by death, and this particular runner’s high-profile thefts are endangering the safety of the entire tribe, whose survival depends on passing for human.

In order to capture the thief, Kit and his fellow members come to London to display the tribe’s cherished jewel, the Langford diamond, in order to tempt the thief into carelessness. When the diamond is displayed at The Stewart, Kit makes a stunning discovery: that the Smoke Thief is female — the girl whom everyone believed dead — and that unlike any other drákon female, she possesses the power to turn herself to smoke and then to dragon. Before he can capture her, the woman disappears, and someone else steals the diamond.

Rue, as she is now called, always felt like an outcast among the tribe and has carved a life for herself in London. She does not want to return to Darkfrith, but when Kit and the council find her, they don’t give her a choice. Were she male, she would face execution for her crimes, but the fact that she’s a female who can Turn makes her far too valuable. She is now the tribe’s female alpha, and the man whose mate she’ll become will have supremacy. Like the other men, Kit covets Rue for himself and he intends to have her, one way or another.

But as much as she is attracted to Kit, Rue craves her freedom more, and so she strikes a bargain with him: she will help him find the Langford diamond and capture the drákon who stole it, in return for liberty from the tribe. Kit agrees, but has no intention of honoring his end of the deal.

The Smoke Thief is one of the best examples of paranormal romance I have found in my reading so far, a successful blend of romance and fantasy, fable and gritty reality. Going into it, I expected that any book about people who can turn into dragons would be at least a little bit cheesy, but I was happy to have my prejudice refuted. The fantastical aspects of the book are married so well with its romantic aspects, its historical atmosphere, and its jewel thief subplot that what emerges is a nearly seamless creation, the written equivalent of a creature that can fly and thieve and perform dazzling tricks one moment, and in the next be as naked as a newborn, stripped down to its essentials.

Rue and Kit are such creatures too, and they display both human and dragon characteristics. Each of them is in his or her own way covetous, ruthless and pragmatic, and they fight not only for each other, but for the upper hand and for the having of the other on their own terms. But through their streaks of selfishness and self-possession wind threads of generosity and bravery, and this combination of traits make them not only multidimensional and real, but also right for one another. I closed the book unable to imagine Kit with someone other than Rue, or Rue with someone other than Kit.

As I was debating what to grade this book, I thought of giving it a B+, because a few things did interfere just slightly with my enjoyment, namely the lushness of the prologue, the presence of yet another orphan urchin, the emphasis on Rue’s purity, and a few same-scene viewpoint shifts that were a bit jarring to me. But while I was debating, the book and its characters stayed with me, like an unusually vivid dream.

In this season of gratitude, I’m thankful to have discovered you with this book and that I have your backlist to explore. Writers who put words together like jewelers crafting bracelets, whose characters have as many facets as polished diamonds, whose creations sparkle and gleam, make me glad to be a reader in a genre rich with possibilities. A-.

Sincerely,

Janine

REVIEW: Veiled Promises by Tracy MacNish

Jayne — Thu, 28 Sep 2006 22:00:59 +0000

Dear Mrs. Macnish,

Reviewers who have said your book “Veiled Promises” is a step back to the sweeping sagas of yesteryear with lovers who endure much to be together yet are separated for a lot of the book, but without the asshat hero, are correct. I can’t recall reading anything like this, at least that was written within the past 15 years, in a long time. But I do have to ask, did you hate your heroine? Were the trials and tribulations you put her through a cathartic exercise or therapeutic revenge on someone? Because I closed this book thinking to myself, “Sheesh, I’d hate to be one of her heroines.”

Camille Bradburn is a woman most people would think has it all. She’s young, beautiful, cultured, educated and the daughter of a Duke when that really meant something. But in reality, her life is hell on earth. Her father couldn’t care less about her and her mother is one bitch-ass, whack job. The FBI profilers would have a field day with this woman. Camille has been controlled, through beatings and deprivation, all her life. She yearns for freedom but knows she’ll never get it. Her life is preordained and her only hope of escape is through marriage which her mother will probably arrange.

Patrick Mullen is immediately captivated by this young woman. It’s her beauty which draws him first but he quickly realizes here is the woman he’s only dreamt of. As their love blossoms, he begins to think of forever. That is, until her sadistic mother learns of their plans to escape and intervenes. Now the two lovers must surmount untold obstacles and horrors in their quest for a HEA.

As I read this book, I couldn’t help comparing it to a soap opera. Like an 18th century “As the World Turns” it’s got just about everything except a character who returns from the dead and an evil twin. This is dark romance at its darkest and you single out Camille for the brunt of the abuse. Yes, the hero has some bad things happen to him but nothing like the whippings, lashings, rape, mental abuse and descent into a brandy bottle that awaits Camille. Halfway through the book, I felt like I needed to start Prozac.

I do give you credit for creating a consistent villain. Amelia is evil from beginning to end. Yet, I felt her reasons seemed to change as the book progressed. First she comes off as a religious fanatic, then her actions are because her mother beat her even worse and finally she hates Camille for being young and beautiful. And as for Bret, mother’s hand picked husband for Camille, I don’t care that in the end he was crippled with guilt. He did what he did and as Amelia said, no one could make him do that if he didn’t want to. He’s a loser bastard.

And I also had to think of the hero as a loser during his attempt to rescue Camille. After all the time he takes setting up their first attempt to leave, the second time he just appears, with no plan, no backup, no escape route or ship or horses or anything. He knows what her mother is capable of, sees Camille is as drunk as a skunk and still tries to get her out of the house. Then, when he’s caught, he acts surprised that Amelia’s going to have his ass thrown in jail. What the hell? Why does he completely lose all common sense?

And how does Patrick manage to wander all over a Ducal estate night after night? Where’s the nightwatchman? Where are the mastiff guard dogs? Why doesn’t anyone question why he’s still in town for a month and going out every night til all hours? And when in London, how can Camille wander through the stables so much and there be almost no servants there? How can her mother not see what’s going on or be told what’s going on for so long?

And as for Camille’s HEA. I just don’t see how this woman has much chance of happiness after all she goes through. I’m sure Patrick will try and make her happy but in the back of my mind, I keep thinking of Sybil and her 16 personalities.

From the reviews I’ve read of “Veiled Promises,” I know it’s working for a lot of people. I did enjoy your writing style and appreciate that you made your characters act like 18th century people. I just wish more of the book had worked for me than it did. C-

~Jayne

REVIEW: Independent Heart by Juliet Waldron

Jayne — Fri, 08 Sep 2006 09:00:09 +0000

(Being the account of Angelica TenBroeck’s flight from New York City during the late War of Independence, her would-be lovers, and a bluebird quilt)

Dear Mrs. Waldron,

I’m a sucker for 18th century historical romances and novels so finding your books was a delight for me. So far, I’ve read two but am saving the last. I hope you have plans to publish more as I hate to finish the last of any author’s books.

The above description is listed at the beginning of the book and it about covers the plot. Angelica is a daughter of an old Dutch New York family who has fled the frontier where she was born and raised and is staying with an aunt in New York City, recently lost to the British. It is here she meets one Major George Armistead who proves himself to be no gentleman when he attempts to kidnap her and force her to marry him. A man to whom she’s recently been introduced at a ball comes to her rescue and together they set out to return her to her home. But to get there, they will have to brave brigands, bandits, the British, the loyalists, the patriots, the Indians and each other. It’s quite a journey.

Readers who like very detailed historical novels, road romances, and war stories might find An Independent Heart to be for them. Angelica is a woman of common sense and bravery who falters only rarely under immense strains and pressures. Jack Church is the mystery of the story and we see many sides to him and learn about him when and as Angelica does. Is he the civilian we first meet? The younger son looking for land of his own and with family ties in the area? The former cavalryman who is no stranger to dirty fights and killing? Or someone else altogether? And when Angelica finally discovers who he really is, can she forgive enough for them to find a future if they even manage to survive the savage frontier fighting that rages all along the Hudson River?

You’ve got a slightly old fashioned style of writing that reminds me of books I read in the 1970s. At times flowery, slightly emotional at others, down to earth and blunt when needed. It’s also clear you’ve done your research which is threaded through the story and not dumped in heaps on the reader’s head. Lynne Connolly, mentioned you on the regency site and I’m very glad she did. Parts of it aren’t pretty but then civil wars (and that’s what the American Revolution was at times) never are.

Independent Heart isn’t without flaws (Jack’s kisses and caresses turn Angelica’s “no, no, no’s” into “yes, yes, yes’s” a few too many times plus the villain is a tad two dimensional) but for a different view of that War, I highly recommend it. B+ and perhaps verging higher upon reflection.

~Jayne