**/***** (2/5)
Imagine the following cast of characters. A big, late-thirties ex- State Attorney investigator divorced five times. An abjectly rich, miserly cheap and terribly incompetent plastic surgeon. A clumsy, equally-incompetent vainglorious TV reporter. The cerebral, street-smart TV producer. A bitter nurse with a secret down on men. And finally last, but certainly not the least, a 6-foot-9 bouncer sporting a facially-burnt Rice Krispie effect. Throw in a 5 year-old unsolved missing-person case suddenly resurfaced, and what's the end-result? Why, Carl Hiaasen's whacky and twisted SKIN TIGHT in this 420-page superior paperback, of course! Hiaasen sticks to his strengths: convoluted plotting, offbeat, humorous dialogue and discreetly gray characterizations. I found the pacing fairly anemic however, as I finished three other books while reading this one which is ironic since the prose lends itself to a fast, easy read. SKIN TIGHT never really grips. Settings obviously played backseat to the twisted plotting. There's a couple love subplots thrown in as well: the ex-investigator falls for the TV producer while the surgeon actually loves a TV actress in both of their own uniquely disturbing ways. Admittedly, I'm probably jaded and numbed by modern culture, but I found the book's insouciant approach to death and violence refreshing after so many sensitive romance novels.
[Stranahan] was not a paranoid person, but took a practical view of risk: when someone pulls a gun at your front door, there's really no point to asking what he wants. The answer is obvious, and so is the solution.
The title of this book I believe refers to plastic surgery, and our doctor's fumbling attempts to cover up a botched surgery. Our main character Mick Stranahan investigated a missing-persons case for the State Attorney's office when he still worked there years ago. Now assassins show up at his stilt house out on the tidal flats of Biscayne Bay, a mile from the tip of Cape Florida. Mick is a no-nonsense, smart, tough character having experienced it all, and harbors a healthy cynicism towards government and the rich. Hiaasen's twisted Florida world teems with corruption and duplicity at all levels of the government and the affluently prosperous. Many times, SKIN TIGHT seemed to speak to and about the fraudulent corruption we find in today's society. Mick wants nothing more than to be left alone in his quiet home off the bay, but unfortunately, the depraved, outside world comes a-knockin'. Mick can take care of himself though, boy can he ever.
Tina clutched his hand. She couldn't take her eyes off the fire. "Mick, have you got enemies like that?"
"Hell, I've got friends like that."
I like that many of the characters here aren't cut and dry. Only in Carl Hiaasen's story can we begin to actually empathize with a cheap, incompetently corrupt doctor who blithely hires assassins to eliminate threats, bribes city officials for his own divinations and yet at the end discovers love with a TV actress in his own twisted way. Only here, can we begin to understand a grotesquely murdering 7-foot bouncer. I also liked Mick dictating the majority of circumstances and situations after he fends off an early assassin. Our 7-foot bouncer Chemo proves a much larger obstacle to Mick however. Still, it was nice to see Mick in control of the bizarre circumstances he didn't set in motion.
Chemo got the impression that he was losing control, which made no sense, since he was the one with the pistol.
The wacky plotting mostly features Mick fending off Chemo while striking back at the root cause of the entire affair (the botched surgery and consequent cover-up), Chemo willing to do anything for costly dermabrasion treatments for his burnt face, and Dr. Rudy Graveline providing Chemo the means and motive to kill Mick. Mick and the TV producer Christina Marks share an adventure through all this.
SKIN TIGHT isn't bad, and I liked the twisted plotting and characters. But I thought the book failed to really capture and retain interest. It wasn't outright funny, and its strength lies with a mishmash cast of gray yet colorful characters. I may check out another Hiaasen book down the line.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
An adjustment to my review of KEW's Ashes in the Wind
I find I harshly underrated Kathleen E. Woodiwiss' ASHES IN THE WIND, a book that charmingly combines history, plotting and a love story. Originally, I gave it 3 stars, but I've since deservedly bumped up its ranking to 4 stars.
Click: Ashes in the Wind, by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss [4]
Click: Ashes in the Wind, by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss [4]
Monday, October 8, 2007
The Saint, by Madeline Hunter [1]
*/***** (1/5)
This series on the Dueling Society marks some of the more monotonously leaden writing I've read from Madeline Hunter. I thought THE SAINT couldn't possible be any worse than the novel that started this series (THE SEDUCER **) but it manages to anyway. Like its predecessor, THE SAINT grasps at setting the stage for subsequent books rather than focusing on telling its story. Worst, I found THE SAINT bereft of an engaging storyline. After the opening chapter, the plotting floundered for over 250 pages while the deadpan hero-and-heroine interaction further paralyzed this plot's pacing. THE SAINT reveals the crux of the mysterious plot in conversations spanning 10 discontinuous pages or so towards the end. Rather than inviting interest, I found the contrary dynamic between our hero Vergil Duclairc Viscount Laclere and his heroine American Bianca Kenwood very blase.
Based on THE SEDUCER and now THE SAINT, this series on the Dueling Society seems to explore how love muddles the best laid plans (or enriches, depending on you look at it). In THE SEDUCER (**), love with Diane obfuscates Daniel's single-minded plot for revenge whereas here, "Saint" Viscount Laclere's love complicates a gifted heiress' dream to sing in the opera, something considered taboo for the time period. Although I found THE SEDUCER's plot drab and its hero Daniel's contrivances to call out a superior shot stupid, THE SAINT's plot is worse as it conveys the salient points of the mystery in prosaically conversationalist diction. Nothing happens for the first 250 pages in this one other than Countess Glasbury's (Vergil's sister) vocational party lasting a few days. More than ever, I wanted this MH book to "show, don't tell." For example, Bianca and Vergil discuss the background behind Vergil's older brother's death from discovered letters, while Adrian Burchard and Vergil reveal other elements in two separate discussions. I also found THE SAINT more predictable than most, as I guessed Vergil's deceased brother's blackmailer from the mysterious blackmailer's first reference in the novel. The finale feebly concludes the novel with a duel to decide everything including the fate of the love story. I thought a very stagnant plotting and pacing supported its lackluster love story.
I can't say either the hero or the heroine really stood out, though both had potential. A contradicting dichotomy of innocence and desirous promiscuity characterizes our virgin heroine Bianca. Despite the book's efforts to make this contrasting dichotomy seem like a novelty in virgin heroines, it was nothing new. Good romance novelists usually present their virgin heroines with a hint of aggressive reciprocation. With the exception of the opening chapter, I found the verbal exchanges and love scenes between Vergil and Bianca in this novel incongruously uninteresting and completely forgettable. The last two or three pages seemed to rush a resolution to the strained love story which didn't fit. I thought Bianca should have went on to perform in Italy for a few years if Vergil was going to conveniently throw propriety out the door at the end anyway. With his sister Penelope, a dubious reputation mars Vergil's family already, so what's the point in preserving some pretense with Bianca and her dreams? I mean you have all this tension in the love story due to society's rules and norms and at the end, you throw them all out the window like it was much ado about nothing. Weak!
I thought Bianca "won" her way most of the time in this novel in spite of Vergil's so-called guardianship restricting her, while Vergil's love seemed to overshadow Bianca's (I discount Bianca's protestations of love in the throws of virgin passion, and no, her reassurance of that love later didn't balance the scales). THE SAINT reverses gender roles a bit: the guy here wants marriage and a life together while the girl wants to just have sex. I thought Vergil made all the concessions and he's the only one who considered both of their individual dreams and combined futures. Vergil has to be careful not to spill his seed inside her so she can continue her dreams to sing. It's Vergil who reiterates again and again that he doesn't want to coerce Bianca into marriage with a pregnancy or a soiled reputation. It's Vergil who refuses a strictly sexual relationship with Bianca to protect her from a notorious reputation. Later, Vergil concedes Bianca's platonic sexual liaison when she persists in refusing marriage. At the end, it's Vergil who first concedes defeat by agreeing to disperse Bianca's money so she may travel to Italy for her singing career and promises to visit as often as possible. Vergil does all of the servicing in the love making; for a virgin heroine with advertised hints of a mistress' aggression, she's pretty self-absorbed in all the love scenes. The love scenes are primarily described from Bianca's egocentric perspective. Losing yourself to passion is one thing, losing yourself again and again without the least bit of any desire to reciprocate is quite another.
This book gave me flashes of Emma Holly's BEYOND INNOCENCE (**) where its hero attempts to pass off the heroine to his brother (for different reasons), though falls in love with her himself. Here, our hero Vergil wishes to marry Bianca off to his rakehell younger brother Dante, a vapidly standard romance-hero characterization whose story in THE SINNER I have no desire to read. I could have done without so much Dante and this book's attempts to make him seem deeper for a future novel wasn't very convincing. Between returning THE SEDUCER's hero and heroine Daniel and Diane St. John, trying to paint characterizations for this book's story and setting up characters for future novels, I thought THE SAINT had its hands full. As a result, THE SAINT failed to tell a compelling tale of its own. I'm trying to remember if Cornell Witherby appeared in THE SEDUCER. I don't remember Witherby dueling in THE SEDUCER. Both Adrian Burchard and Julian Hampton continue to intrigue and I'll have to read their stories in THE CHARMER and THE ROMANTIC, respectively.
The Premise.
American Miss Bianca Kenwood's grandfather Adam left her a fortune and named the Viscount Laclare her guardian until she turns 21 or marries, whichever comes first. A talented singer, Bianca dreams of singing with others for a big audience in a grand setting. Vergil Duclairc the Viscount Leclare gets in the way. Titles, money and English propriety mean little to American-born Bianca, and she forges her own path towards disreputable singing career. After a very engaging opening chapter, the book sags considerably for over 250 pages under the guise of a gathering amongst Penelope's "inner circle" of friends and acquaintances at Laclere House in Sussex. There's two apparent attempts on Bianca's life while other characters arrive for the social gathering. Bianca's cousin Nigel Kenwood, Dueling Society members St. John, Witherby and Dante all join the party at Laclere House. Penelope's friend Mrs. Gaston, an eccentric sponsor of the arts, also joins the party. The ill-reputed Duclairc family is in full form: Vergil, Dante, Penelope and Charlotte all appear. While Bianca plots to realize her dream as an opera singer in Italy, Vergil investigates his older brother's suicide.
The action moves to London for a bit before returning to the country in Manchester where Bianca owns a percentage in a mill. It returns to London as Penelope prepares Charlotte for her first coming-out. The book concludes on the coasts of luscious Normandy in France where a duel lasts about 2 pages found in the last 7-8 pages of the novel. The pacing lolls for days and vacuously zips along for weeks and months. It all seemed disjoint and incongruous. Besides the opening chapter, nothing in the novel invited interest or attention.
I'm thinking THE CHARMER and THE ROMANTIC are better.
This series on the Dueling Society marks some of the more monotonously leaden writing I've read from Madeline Hunter. I thought THE SAINT couldn't possible be any worse than the novel that started this series (THE SEDUCER **) but it manages to anyway. Like its predecessor, THE SAINT grasps at setting the stage for subsequent books rather than focusing on telling its story. Worst, I found THE SAINT bereft of an engaging storyline. After the opening chapter, the plotting floundered for over 250 pages while the deadpan hero-and-heroine interaction further paralyzed this plot's pacing. THE SAINT reveals the crux of the mysterious plot in conversations spanning 10 discontinuous pages or so towards the end. Rather than inviting interest, I found the contrary dynamic between our hero Vergil Duclairc Viscount Laclere and his heroine American Bianca Kenwood very blase.
Based on THE SEDUCER and now THE SAINT, this series on the Dueling Society seems to explore how love muddles the best laid plans (or enriches, depending on you look at it). In THE SEDUCER (**), love with Diane obfuscates Daniel's single-minded plot for revenge whereas here, "Saint" Viscount Laclere's love complicates a gifted heiress' dream to sing in the opera, something considered taboo for the time period. Although I found THE SEDUCER's plot drab and its hero Daniel's contrivances to call out a superior shot stupid, THE SAINT's plot is worse as it conveys the salient points of the mystery in prosaically conversationalist diction. Nothing happens for the first 250 pages in this one other than Countess Glasbury's (Vergil's sister) vocational party lasting a few days. More than ever, I wanted this MH book to "show, don't tell." For example, Bianca and Vergil discuss the background behind Vergil's older brother's death from discovered letters, while Adrian Burchard and Vergil reveal other elements in two separate discussions. I also found THE SAINT more predictable than most, as I guessed Vergil's deceased brother's blackmailer from the mysterious blackmailer's first reference in the novel. The finale feebly concludes the novel with a duel to decide everything including the fate of the love story. I thought a very stagnant plotting and pacing supported its lackluster love story.
I can't say either the hero or the heroine really stood out, though both had potential. A contradicting dichotomy of innocence and desirous promiscuity characterizes our virgin heroine Bianca. Despite the book's efforts to make this contrasting dichotomy seem like a novelty in virgin heroines, it was nothing new. Good romance novelists usually present their virgin heroines with a hint of aggressive reciprocation. With the exception of the opening chapter, I found the verbal exchanges and love scenes between Vergil and Bianca in this novel incongruously uninteresting and completely forgettable. The last two or three pages seemed to rush a resolution to the strained love story which didn't fit. I thought Bianca should have went on to perform in Italy for a few years if Vergil was going to conveniently throw propriety out the door at the end anyway. With his sister Penelope, a dubious reputation mars Vergil's family already, so what's the point in preserving some pretense with Bianca and her dreams? I mean you have all this tension in the love story due to society's rules and norms and at the end, you throw them all out the window like it was much ado about nothing. Weak!
I thought Bianca "won" her way most of the time in this novel in spite of Vergil's so-called guardianship restricting her, while Vergil's love seemed to overshadow Bianca's (I discount Bianca's protestations of love in the throws of virgin passion, and no, her reassurance of that love later didn't balance the scales). THE SAINT reverses gender roles a bit: the guy here wants marriage and a life together while the girl wants to just have sex. I thought Vergil made all the concessions and he's the only one who considered both of their individual dreams and combined futures. Vergil has to be careful not to spill his seed inside her so she can continue her dreams to sing. It's Vergil who reiterates again and again that he doesn't want to coerce Bianca into marriage with a pregnancy or a soiled reputation. It's Vergil who refuses a strictly sexual relationship with Bianca to protect her from a notorious reputation. Later, Vergil concedes Bianca's platonic sexual liaison when she persists in refusing marriage. At the end, it's Vergil who first concedes defeat by agreeing to disperse Bianca's money so she may travel to Italy for her singing career and promises to visit as often as possible. Vergil does all of the servicing in the love making; for a virgin heroine with advertised hints of a mistress' aggression, she's pretty self-absorbed in all the love scenes. The love scenes are primarily described from Bianca's egocentric perspective. Losing yourself to passion is one thing, losing yourself again and again without the least bit of any desire to reciprocate is quite another.
This book gave me flashes of Emma Holly's BEYOND INNOCENCE (**) where its hero attempts to pass off the heroine to his brother (for different reasons), though falls in love with her himself. Here, our hero Vergil wishes to marry Bianca off to his rakehell younger brother Dante, a vapidly standard romance-hero characterization whose story in THE SINNER I have no desire to read. I could have done without so much Dante and this book's attempts to make him seem deeper for a future novel wasn't very convincing. Between returning THE SEDUCER's hero and heroine Daniel and Diane St. John, trying to paint characterizations for this book's story and setting up characters for future novels, I thought THE SAINT had its hands full. As a result, THE SAINT failed to tell a compelling tale of its own. I'm trying to remember if Cornell Witherby appeared in THE SEDUCER. I don't remember Witherby dueling in THE SEDUCER. Both Adrian Burchard and Julian Hampton continue to intrigue and I'll have to read their stories in THE CHARMER and THE ROMANTIC, respectively.
The Premise.
American Miss Bianca Kenwood's grandfather Adam left her a fortune and named the Viscount Laclare her guardian until she turns 21 or marries, whichever comes first. A talented singer, Bianca dreams of singing with others for a big audience in a grand setting. Vergil Duclairc the Viscount Leclare gets in the way. Titles, money and English propriety mean little to American-born Bianca, and she forges her own path towards disreputable singing career. After a very engaging opening chapter, the book sags considerably for over 250 pages under the guise of a gathering amongst Penelope's "inner circle" of friends and acquaintances at Laclere House in Sussex. There's two apparent attempts on Bianca's life while other characters arrive for the social gathering. Bianca's cousin Nigel Kenwood, Dueling Society members St. John, Witherby and Dante all join the party at Laclere House. Penelope's friend Mrs. Gaston, an eccentric sponsor of the arts, also joins the party. The ill-reputed Duclairc family is in full form: Vergil, Dante, Penelope and Charlotte all appear. While Bianca plots to realize her dream as an opera singer in Italy, Vergil investigates his older brother's suicide.
The action moves to London for a bit before returning to the country in Manchester where Bianca owns a percentage in a mill. It returns to London as Penelope prepares Charlotte for her first coming-out. The book concludes on the coasts of luscious Normandy in France where a duel lasts about 2 pages found in the last 7-8 pages of the novel. The pacing lolls for days and vacuously zips along for weeks and months. It all seemed disjoint and incongruous. Besides the opening chapter, nothing in the novel invited interest or attention.
I'm thinking THE CHARMER and THE ROMANTIC are better.
Friday, October 5, 2007
3:10 to Yuma, directed by James Mangold [2]
**/***** (2/5)
Watching this movie reminded me how much I miss westerns. Although I didn't like the ending and Christian Bale's weak character in Mangold's 3:10 TO YUMA, I enjoyed other parts of it and the music was nice. It felt like a very slick western, which is a novelty these days. I've heard this is a remake of Glen Ford's THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN made in 1957, and though I haven't seen the original, this one is good.
Russel Crowe stars as notorious western outlaw Ben Wade while Christian Bale stars as the honorable and crippled husband Dan Evans in need of funds. Sharpshooter Ben Wade and his redoubtable gang just robbed an armed stage coach carrying the Southern Pacific Railroads payroll. Railroad representative Butterfield recruits paid volunteers to escort Wade to the 3:10 train to Yuma bound for prison. Christian Bale's poor and crippled character Dan Evans joins the escort for 200 dollars. This movie is about this escort while Wade's gang is hot on the trail. Wade himself manages to eliminate a few comprising his escort service and you start to wonder who's the real captive(s) and captor(s). Eventually, the movie turned into a journey of male bonding between Crowe's Wade and Bale's Dan Evans.
I liked the movie, but I thought Christian Bale's Dan Evans was too dumb. Bale's Dan Evans is another one of those "brave and honorable" men who are too dumb. He's crippled, he isn't the gunman Wade and his gang are, and yet he wants to escort Wade for a chance to make his sons proud. Okay, I guess. Crowe's Wade pretty much plays with Christian Bale's Dan Evans the entire movie and while Crowe was enjoying himself, Bale's character was struggling to survive.
If not for the stupid, honorable and meaningless characterization of Bale's Dan Evans, I would have liked this movie more. I miss westerns!
Watching this movie reminded me how much I miss westerns. Although I didn't like the ending and Christian Bale's weak character in Mangold's 3:10 TO YUMA, I enjoyed other parts of it and the music was nice. It felt like a very slick western, which is a novelty these days. I've heard this is a remake of Glen Ford's THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN made in 1957, and though I haven't seen the original, this one is good.
Russel Crowe stars as notorious western outlaw Ben Wade while Christian Bale stars as the honorable and crippled husband Dan Evans in need of funds. Sharpshooter Ben Wade and his redoubtable gang just robbed an armed stage coach carrying the Southern Pacific Railroads payroll. Railroad representative Butterfield recruits paid volunteers to escort Wade to the 3:10 train to Yuma bound for prison. Christian Bale's poor and crippled character Dan Evans joins the escort for 200 dollars. This movie is about this escort while Wade's gang is hot on the trail. Wade himself manages to eliminate a few comprising his escort service and you start to wonder who's the real captive(s) and captor(s). Eventually, the movie turned into a journey of male bonding between Crowe's Wade and Bale's Dan Evans.
I liked the movie, but I thought Christian Bale's Dan Evans was too dumb. Bale's Dan Evans is another one of those "brave and honorable" men who are too dumb. He's crippled, he isn't the gunman Wade and his gang are, and yet he wants to escort Wade for a chance to make his sons proud. Okay, I guess. Crowe's Wade pretty much plays with Christian Bale's Dan Evans the entire movie and while Crowe was enjoying himself, Bale's character was struggling to survive.
If not for the stupid, honorable and meaningless characterization of Bale's Dan Evans, I would have liked this movie more. I miss westerns!
The Secret Pearl, by Mary Balogh [3]
***/***** (3/5)
"If I loved you, Fleur," [Adam] said, "and knew that you loved me, I would turn heaven and earth upside down [for you]"
I found Mary Balogh's THE SECRET PEARL a chronically addictive reading experience containing the right touches of an impossible, challenging road to love and featuring tortured characters that never really leave you. Unfortunately, I thought THE SECRET PEARL needed to balance the memorable characters and heart-rending love story with better pacing, prose and settings. A majority of this 399-page paperback amounts to meandering introspection. Granted, one of the advantages of literature includes sharing the thoughts of characters but some novels (often of a romantic nature) makes the introspection and thoughts very interminably exasperating. THE SECRET PEARL contains a lot of introspection and if it weren't for the uniquely endearing characters and their plight, I probably would have found the book pretty bad. Not your typical rosy romance fare, the characters and premise alone offer a worthwhile reading experience. Although the ending wasn't bad, again I thought it resorted to amateurish introspection instead of gripping plotting or possibly a chapter or two of marital bliss. The love here is mutually giving, and it isn't just the hero giving everything.
Rarely are romance heroes as interesting or honorable as THE SECRET PEARL's Duke of Ridgeway Adam Kent, and I thought the novel belongs to him. Adam's time with the English infantry at Waterloo scarred him terribly along his face and body, so he isn't handsome by the time our heroine Isabella Fleur Bradshaw meets him. Adam is vulnerable, and harbors insecurities of his own, though it isn't belabored. After a shocking opening scene in which Adam hurts Fleur -- knowingly, for reasons that are clear from the context -- Adam's vulnerabilities and his efforts at atonement afterwards really melt your heart. Also very much unlike the last romance I read (Joyce's VOICES OF THE NIGHT), the hero Adam here astutely infers the heroine's situation, figures out her pursuers, consequently takes steps to discover her complete history, and in turn, really helps her. THE SECRET PEARL's Adam Kent is a man of action, from beginning to end. I think I'm a sucker for a romance novel in which the heroine really detests the hero all the while he's doing everything in his power to help and protect the heroine. I'm not sure why or how, but I'm ineffably drawn to a heroine's intense, unwarranted hatred for her hero (not superficially insulting, imprecating). In this respect, THE SECRET PEARL resembles Hunter's superior THE RULES OF SEDUCTION (*****) and its heroine Alexia's unwarranted enmity for her hero. Even though the title of this book refers to the heroine, I thought the hero Adam was a hidden treasure in his own right. If only this novel offered something more in terms of prose, pacing, settings, and love scenes.
It was the first time he had seen her smile almost directly at him. And it had been a total smile, lighting up her face, making of its beauty a dazzling thing. He could have sworn that all the rays of the sun had been directed at her face when she had lifted it to the sky, even though the clouds had still been low and heavy.
The Story, possible SPOILERS.
Our horribly-scarred Duke of Ridgeway Adam Kent picks up a prostitute from the street after the theater. It's been a long, torturous time for Adam since his last time with a woman and so he doesn't mind a reticent, uninviting prostitute. When taking off his clothes, Adam is ashamed by his unseemly, scarred appearance in front of a whore, which in turn drives him to anger and vengeance at Fleur's expense. Adam takes her, knows he's taking a virgin from the first thrust and yet doesn't relent. The prostitute turns out to be a deceased baron's daughter, Isabella Fleur Bradshaw. Fleur is running from a murder charge and a second cousin's obsessive pursuit who assumes the baron's title after Fleur's father passes away. Later, she learns of a theft charge mixed in as well. Scared, alone, fleeing the noose and hiding amidst London's poverty-stricken streets, a hungry, grimy Fleur turns to the last thing she has to sell: her body.
We learn more about Adam which makes this story's road to love, so challenging and heart-wrenching: Adam has a five year-old daughter and an estranged wife who cheats on him with his own younger half-brother. With the exception of that one time with Fleur, Adam has been faithful to his wife for five years despite his wife cheating on him with other men. Adam is all too aware of his wife's cheating.
Following Adam's violent coupling with Fleur, Adam feeds her and pays her thrice as much as the norm before parting ways. Nightmares of a cruel, scarred monster haunt Fleur while Adam takes steps to locate Fleur and employ her. Eventually, Adam's secretary hires Fleur as a governess at his estate in Willoughby. Fleur is unaware of the identity of the child's father when she accepts the governess position. She's thrilled to escape a life of prostitution.
The bulk of the novel takes place back at Adam's beloved home at Willoughby. Adam travels back to Willoughby for damage control when he hears of his wife's plans to invite a few notorious guests for a few weeks. Fleur is already there tutoring Adam's daughter Pamela, and soon, Adam's half brother Thomas arrives with Fleur's obsessed second cousin Matthew. The more we learn of Adam, the more your heart will melt for him. There's plenty of introspective musings both on Adam's part and Fleur's part during the time Adam's wife entertains many guests at the Willoughby palatial estate.
Again, THE SECRET PEARL's road to its happily-ever-after is challenging, and it isn't rosy. If you buckle up for a substantive love story, I found the love story and its lead characters very rewarding. I just wish better plotting, pacing, settings and prose equaled the heart-rending love story and the unique hero-and-heroine characterizations.
"If I loved you, Fleur," [Adam] said, "and knew that you loved me, I would turn heaven and earth upside down [for you]"
I found Mary Balogh's THE SECRET PEARL a chronically addictive reading experience containing the right touches of an impossible, challenging road to love and featuring tortured characters that never really leave you. Unfortunately, I thought THE SECRET PEARL needed to balance the memorable characters and heart-rending love story with better pacing, prose and settings. A majority of this 399-page paperback amounts to meandering introspection. Granted, one of the advantages of literature includes sharing the thoughts of characters but some novels (often of a romantic nature) makes the introspection and thoughts very interminably exasperating. THE SECRET PEARL contains a lot of introspection and if it weren't for the uniquely endearing characters and their plight, I probably would have found the book pretty bad. Not your typical rosy romance fare, the characters and premise alone offer a worthwhile reading experience. Although the ending wasn't bad, again I thought it resorted to amateurish introspection instead of gripping plotting or possibly a chapter or two of marital bliss. The love here is mutually giving, and it isn't just the hero giving everything.
Rarely are romance heroes as interesting or honorable as THE SECRET PEARL's Duke of Ridgeway Adam Kent, and I thought the novel belongs to him. Adam's time with the English infantry at Waterloo scarred him terribly along his face and body, so he isn't handsome by the time our heroine Isabella Fleur Bradshaw meets him. Adam is vulnerable, and harbors insecurities of his own, though it isn't belabored. After a shocking opening scene in which Adam hurts Fleur -- knowingly, for reasons that are clear from the context -- Adam's vulnerabilities and his efforts at atonement afterwards really melt your heart. Also very much unlike the last romance I read (Joyce's VOICES OF THE NIGHT), the hero Adam here astutely infers the heroine's situation, figures out her pursuers, consequently takes steps to discover her complete history, and in turn, really helps her. THE SECRET PEARL's Adam Kent is a man of action, from beginning to end. I think I'm a sucker for a romance novel in which the heroine really detests the hero all the while he's doing everything in his power to help and protect the heroine. I'm not sure why or how, but I'm ineffably drawn to a heroine's intense, unwarranted hatred for her hero (not superficially insulting, imprecating). In this respect, THE SECRET PEARL resembles Hunter's superior THE RULES OF SEDUCTION (*****) and its heroine Alexia's unwarranted enmity for her hero. Even though the title of this book refers to the heroine, I thought the hero Adam was a hidden treasure in his own right. If only this novel offered something more in terms of prose, pacing, settings, and love scenes.
It was the first time he had seen her smile almost directly at him. And it had been a total smile, lighting up her face, making of its beauty a dazzling thing. He could have sworn that all the rays of the sun had been directed at her face when she had lifted it to the sky, even though the clouds had still been low and heavy.
The Story, possible SPOILERS.
Our horribly-scarred Duke of Ridgeway Adam Kent picks up a prostitute from the street after the theater. It's been a long, torturous time for Adam since his last time with a woman and so he doesn't mind a reticent, uninviting prostitute. When taking off his clothes, Adam is ashamed by his unseemly, scarred appearance in front of a whore, which in turn drives him to anger and vengeance at Fleur's expense. Adam takes her, knows he's taking a virgin from the first thrust and yet doesn't relent. The prostitute turns out to be a deceased baron's daughter, Isabella Fleur Bradshaw. Fleur is running from a murder charge and a second cousin's obsessive pursuit who assumes the baron's title after Fleur's father passes away. Later, she learns of a theft charge mixed in as well. Scared, alone, fleeing the noose and hiding amidst London's poverty-stricken streets, a hungry, grimy Fleur turns to the last thing she has to sell: her body.
We learn more about Adam which makes this story's road to love, so challenging and heart-wrenching: Adam has a five year-old daughter and an estranged wife who cheats on him with his own younger half-brother. With the exception of that one time with Fleur, Adam has been faithful to his wife for five years despite his wife cheating on him with other men. Adam is all too aware of his wife's cheating.
Following Adam's violent coupling with Fleur, Adam feeds her and pays her thrice as much as the norm before parting ways. Nightmares of a cruel, scarred monster haunt Fleur while Adam takes steps to locate Fleur and employ her. Eventually, Adam's secretary hires Fleur as a governess at his estate in Willoughby. Fleur is unaware of the identity of the child's father when she accepts the governess position. She's thrilled to escape a life of prostitution.
The bulk of the novel takes place back at Adam's beloved home at Willoughby. Adam travels back to Willoughby for damage control when he hears of his wife's plans to invite a few notorious guests for a few weeks. Fleur is already there tutoring Adam's daughter Pamela, and soon, Adam's half brother Thomas arrives with Fleur's obsessed second cousin Matthew. The more we learn of Adam, the more your heart will melt for him. There's plenty of introspective musings both on Adam's part and Fleur's part during the time Adam's wife entertains many guests at the Willoughby palatial estate.
Again, THE SECRET PEARL's road to its happily-ever-after is challenging, and it isn't rosy. If you buckle up for a substantive love story, I found the love story and its lead characters very rewarding. I just wish better plotting, pacing, settings and prose equaled the heart-rending love story and the unique hero-and-heroine characterizations.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Voices of the Night, by Lydia Joyce [1]
*/***** (1/5)
"Perhaps you are being the one taken advantage of," Maggie said with no small amount of asperity. "Perhaps I am using my body to try to tie you to me, to squeeze more money out of you. I have no regrets" --yet-- "so why should you?"
Wow, for a book with above average settings and prose, I was thoroughly disappointed by Lydia Joyce's VOICES OF THE NIGHT. Although I found our heroine Maggie King's spirit, pride and determination methodically admirable, there's nothing attractive about her from a physical standpoint to justify our hero Charles' instant and incessant lust for her. I absolutely hated our hero Charles, he's lusting after Maggie for no reason I could ascertain; he hasn't met a single woman who's fiery, spirited and determined before Maggie? Worse, Charles' behavior at the end of the novel takes stupidity and ineptitude to new lows. He can't figure out anything by himself and he doesn't think and observe. These historical-romance heroes like Charles are good for little more than looking pretty and flaunting the power and wealth they were born into, an attractive combination for a spirited, yet ordinary-looking heroine's happily-ever-after. I'd prefer romance novelists write strictly from the heroine's point-of-view than torture and annoy me with Charles' ludicrous thoughts and lack of brains. Or maybe have him appear sparingly to service the heroine from a carnal standpoint in the middle, and then drop by at the end so the heroine can marry into the wealth and title the hero was born into. As the villain continues to terrorize, our dumbfounded Charles cannot figure out his identity and worse, doesn't even make an attempt to think about it before the climactic conclusion which has him scrambling.
This book obviously belongs to its heroine Maggie King down to every word. A prostitute's daughter growing up amidst London's poverty first as a pickpocket and then a dancing hall singer, Maggie perseveres, finds love and exhibits a far more cunning persona than our dumb hero Charles could ever hope to match. The book is all about Maggie and her problems with the local mob boss Danny. I may have enjoyed maybe one, or at the most, two moments in VOICES OF THE NIGHT. I liked how Maggie was aggressive sensually, street-smart, compassionate and cunning, but Charles is an impotent Ken doll by comparison. There's nothing to Charles except have him there at the end so Maggie can marry into the title and wealth Charles was born into.
I was reminded of a prior book and a movie reading this one. The essential premise reminded me of MY FAIR LADY though this book's central plot and hero are nothing like the movie's misogynistic male lead Henry Wiggins and its focus. I was also reminded of Jo Goodman's A SEASON TO BE SINFUL (**) also featuring a feisty, aggressive pickpocket of a heroine living in poverty whisked off by an weak hero born into his wealth, beauty and title. I thought Goodman's book had better prose and settings than this one though, and there were some genuinely witty exchanges in Goodman's A SEASON TO BE SINFUL whereas this one just resorted to having the hero lust after an unattractive child for the entire novel. Charles fails to think and act on his own to proactively protect the heroine from the villain hounding her.
The Story, possible SPOILERS ahead.
Tall, rich, and handsome Lord Edgington, Charles Crossham, makes a bet with his sister to pass off a street urchin as a lady of the peerage at the next Edgington social gathering. Charles wants his sister Millie to retract some harmful words slandering a girl Charles helped introduce into Society (unknown to his sister). If Charles is successful passing of a guttersnipe into society without anyone taking notice, Millie agrees to not only retract her harmful words, but to convince their mother to introduce the victimized girl herself next Season.
Meanwhile short, scrawny and plain-faced Maggie King and her "retinue" of poor friends ("chavies") survive day to day in poverty. Maggie is a dance hall singer and manages to make enough to pay for a small, congested flat for 8 or 9 of them total. The dance hall she worked at fired her and she can't seem to convince any other dancing hall to take her. She needs money to pay the rent and quickly all the while she ignores requests for a meeting with the mob boss Danny O'Sullivan.
At an audition, opera connoisseur Charles takes notice of Maggie and whisks her away for the wager he intends to win. He installs her in a row house, gives her an allowance of two pounds a week, arranges for new gowns, sets up all of her chavies with jobs and at schools, has tutors train Maggie in Society etiquette, speech and deportment, arranges for singing lessons to help Maggie after the wager runs its course. Charles gives everything he is to Maggie including going down on her. The main plotting with villain Danny and wager between Charles and his sister, both come to head at the party where Maggie must fool Charles' peers into believing she was gently bred.
As a warning, what follows details an account of my gripes with the plotting and especially our hero Charles.
Towards the end, Charles watches a blatantly distressed Maggie abruptly leave a room full of guests in the middle of a game, and yet he fails to notice the villain (whose identity is a secret to Charles) trail after her. He can't put 2 and 2 together at all? Instead of trying to figure something out and T-H-I-N-K on his own, he spends the rest of the time trying to convince Maggie to tell him who, amongst the guests, she suspects. My gawd I was dying a thousands deaths at this doofus of a hero rack his nonexistent brain to try to figure things out. To the very end, he's completely incapable of putting two and two together on his own and needs Maggie to drop small hints before finally convincing her to spell it out for him. She refuses. Her hints? Maggie asks subtle questions behind the origins of the wager which Charles should have been thinking about and piecing together on his own way before!! Charles = biggest inept dolt in the world. Charles notices nothing and thinks for himself even less. While dressing Maggie, we have: "...the shape of the revolver seemed to shout itself through the cloth of the pocket, but Charles did not seem to notice." Have I mentioned what an oblivious dumb ass Charles is yet?
If Maggie can rise and overcome in Charles' upper-class world by fooling them, I don't understand why Charles can't even make an effort to help Maggie in her world by neutralizing her nemesis Danny. The mob boss Danny O'Sullivan torments Maggie, Charles knows about it, and yet he doesn't even make attempt to dig deeper behind the connection between Maggie and Danny, let alone try to extricate Danny. He pusillanimously accepts Maggie's decision to escape Danny by leaving the country after the end of the wager. He doesn't have to try to strongarm Danny or anything, but maybe he could think of something from a patrician's point-of-view to help remove Danny? Or try to find out more about Maggie's history with him? Or barring all of that, at least investigate what role Danny played in Charles' wager with his sister since Danny apparently set up Maggie's audition which started it all? Instead of proactively doing any of this however, Charles meekly waits around for Danny to strike...
I didn't quite appreciate the way Charles comes to condescend High Society after spending time with Maggie. After Maggie, Charles views those of his class beneath him and their concerns petty (which they probably are), but he cultivates a healthy aversion to the thoughts and concerns of all people from his class, and seriously hates his mother and sister. "Yet his sister's manner of speech was not so different from that of most of the women of his acquaintance. The sophisticated ones were arch and their words barbed, and the ingenues simply burbled..." He's too good for his peers all of a sudden? What does he want them to talk about instead, was he too naive to understand the different concerns between the poor and rich from the beginning? It's reality, get over it, start helping the poor if you feel guilty for being rich, or start living amongst the poor if you feel you're too good for the rich now. I really could have done without Charles' supercilious, condescending attitude towards the upper classes. The contrasting concerns between the poor and rich seemed like a revelation to Charles, is he really that naive? More nonsense from Charles in the same vein: "Part of [Charles] wondered if [Maggie] could possibly ever be taken for a lady, not because she was too coarse but because she had an edge, a certainty and strength and definitiveness that he had never seen emerge from protected parlors of the gently bred." First what does "edge, a certainty and strength and definitiveness" exactly mean? It's too vague. And now not only is he too naive to understand the starkly contrasting problems the poor and rich deal with, but again he wants to generalize all of the "gently bred" as insipid and thoroughly lacking in character. Late in the novel, Maggie receives another note from Danny and after she shares the note with Charles, like a wide-eyed dolt, Charles asks, "What should we do?" Maggie confidently answers she wants to kill him. Charles is in awe of Maggie's determination from living amidst less-than-favorable conditions. Is he really that clueless? I had a tough time abiding this naivety and condescension in Charles' characterization.
I don't know, I really don't believe guys are as deep as so many romance novelists would have us believe. Charles' instant, lascivious desires for child-like, plain Maggie so early in the novel jarred me out of my reading every time. There's really nothing about Maggie for Charles to go ga-ga over: no lips, ordinary hair, plain eyes, no legs, no buttocks, no breasts. When VOICES OF THE NIGHT's heroine Maggie steps onto the stage, our hero Charles finds himself attracted to how proudly Maggie carries herself: chin up and shoulders squared. Now Maggie's proud bearing engenders admiration definitely, but lust? Maggie's miniature, thin, child-like frame and grubby appearance doesn't cool Charles' desire for her one bit. I was a bit repelled by Charles' attraction to Maggie. The book mires Charles' introspection and thoughts with references to Maggie's sharp mind, proud demeanor, "definitiveness," etc., etc. How, then, is he physically attracted to her? It doesn't seem like Maggie possesses any visibly desirable characteristics, and I found Charles' attraction to child-like Maggie 40 pages into the novel on the first day they meet a bit disconcerting to say the least. He wants her based on her proud constitution and, at times, snide remarks? Joyce never fails to remind us how small, frail and scrawny Maggie is and every time she's in Charles' arms, I have this creepy mental picture of a pedophile with a small child. I wish the book stuck to writing from Maggie's perspective because Charles' amorous thoughts towards a small, scrawny Maggie seemed forced, and prompted me to stop, shake my head and remind myself: ah yes, this is a female author writing this guy after all, I have to make some allowances for these unbelievable desires towards a grubby, child-like heroine. These jarring moments occurred every time we're privy to Charles' thoughts.
Conspicuously, not even once does Charles use the word "pretty" or "beautiful" to describe Maggie (even though he's attracted to her). Not even when Maggie dresses up and bathes much later in the novel. Why is Maggie allowed to see Charles as handsome (fairly consistently) but Charles not allowed to see Maggie as beautiful if the attraction is mutual? Maggie notices Charles' broad, tall frame at every turn and how he's "very handsome." Later, the novel has Maggie view him as, " so handsome, unmistakably rich, so smooth and golden, like an idol..." At the dinner table of the party where Maggie acts like a lady, Maggie again sneaks a peak at Charles and is struck by how much he looks like a "handsome Adonis." So why isn't Charles allowed to think of Maggie as "pretty" or "beautiful" even once? Instead, he has deep thoughts admiring Maggie's mind which cause him to have a hard-on. Wow, VOICES OF THE NIGHT harbors a deep, inflated picture of the male psyche and its sexual desires, while simplifying Maggie's attraction for Charles based on his tall, broad-shouldered and handsome countenance. I didn't like any of it.
Much of Charles' salacious reactions to Maggie seems more like a girl's response. For example, "...reaction shot through his body from groin to gut..." Why does this sound like a girl's warm, tingling reaction rippling through her center? A guy's lust isn't this deep! Or better yet, why this reaction at all? What's the foundation? Maggie's intelligence and pride? And this triggers lust? Seriously? So point me to a romance novel where a woman is attracted to a poor, untitled Plain-Joe of medium height for his cunning mind (except Hoyt's THE LEOPARD PRINCE ;)).
Many of Charles' thoughts and musings on Maggie seemed like what a romance novelist pressures on her romance hero, not really a guy's plausible reaction. For instance, "Maggie's face rose in his mind, cunning, wary, her expression alive with intelligence and precocious knowledge of the evils of the world..." And this subsequently drives him to lust: "...the memory came of her, in his arms, her small body drawn...he shifted uncomfortably, willing his erection away..." ?! Again, I have to shake my head and continue as dissonant as all this sounds to me given Maggie's very unattractive appearance.
Lydia Joyce sure doesn't miss a chance to convey Charles' amorous desires for Maggie (yet jarring) in every passage from Charles' perspective. Even when the neighborhood villain brutalizes Maggie's friend Nan, and Maggie's hand visibly tightened on a boy's arm, Joyce makes Charles think again about his desire for Maggie again. So a woman is brutally beaten and raped, Maggie hand simply "tightens" around another boy's arm as a reaction and you have Charles wishing it were his arm? Are you kidding me? It is this type of baseless, lustful introspection from the hero's perspective which make this novel very difficult to digest, I mean a woman was just beaten and raped and Joyce is more interested in making Charles feel more lust for a small, thin, unattractive girl like Maggie.
No, guys really aren't that deep... considering what Charles has to go on, his desire for Maggie seemed way too forced. Later in the novel, at the actual party, Joyce describes her heroine Maggie like so: "...her painful slenderness was transformed into ethereal sublimity, the translucency of her skin glowing like alabaster in the pale light of the gas jets." It isn't clear if this is Charles viewing Maggie as such, but if it is, it's another contrivance. What does "ethereal sublimity" look like anyway? Is that supposed to be pretty? Am I too shallow to ask? In my opinion, it's another example of romance's persistent contrivances at matching up tall, rich, "very handsome" men with ordinary, Plain-Janes.
Other times I had to laugh and ask myself if any guy would truly believe the utter bullshit Charles spews half the time in his thoughts and words. For example, when he's sermonizing, "The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones." Oh... my... lord. Does he even know how he sounds? This is so damn stupid, I don't have the proper words to express my reaction to Joyce's laughably ludicrous characterization of her hero Charles. Is he trying to be deep? Brooding? Tortured? All of the above? Well, it's coming across as foolish and preposterously idiotic.
It's a good thing I was reading Hiaasen's SKIN TIGHT at the same time where the men are hunks and the women are pretty to substantiate the guys' initial lust.
"Perhaps you are being the one taken advantage of," Maggie said with no small amount of asperity. "Perhaps I am using my body to try to tie you to me, to squeeze more money out of you. I have no regrets" --yet-- "so why should you?"
Wow, for a book with above average settings and prose, I was thoroughly disappointed by Lydia Joyce's VOICES OF THE NIGHT. Although I found our heroine Maggie King's spirit, pride and determination methodically admirable, there's nothing attractive about her from a physical standpoint to justify our hero Charles' instant and incessant lust for her. I absolutely hated our hero Charles, he's lusting after Maggie for no reason I could ascertain; he hasn't met a single woman who's fiery, spirited and determined before Maggie? Worse, Charles' behavior at the end of the novel takes stupidity and ineptitude to new lows. He can't figure out anything by himself and he doesn't think and observe. These historical-romance heroes like Charles are good for little more than looking pretty and flaunting the power and wealth they were born into, an attractive combination for a spirited, yet ordinary-looking heroine's happily-ever-after. I'd prefer romance novelists write strictly from the heroine's point-of-view than torture and annoy me with Charles' ludicrous thoughts and lack of brains. Or maybe have him appear sparingly to service the heroine from a carnal standpoint in the middle, and then drop by at the end so the heroine can marry into the wealth and title the hero was born into. As the villain continues to terrorize, our dumbfounded Charles cannot figure out his identity and worse, doesn't even make an attempt to think about it before the climactic conclusion which has him scrambling.
This book obviously belongs to its heroine Maggie King down to every word. A prostitute's daughter growing up amidst London's poverty first as a pickpocket and then a dancing hall singer, Maggie perseveres, finds love and exhibits a far more cunning persona than our dumb hero Charles could ever hope to match. The book is all about Maggie and her problems with the local mob boss Danny. I may have enjoyed maybe one, or at the most, two moments in VOICES OF THE NIGHT. I liked how Maggie was aggressive sensually, street-smart, compassionate and cunning, but Charles is an impotent Ken doll by comparison. There's nothing to Charles except have him there at the end so Maggie can marry into the title and wealth Charles was born into.
I was reminded of a prior book and a movie reading this one. The essential premise reminded me of MY FAIR LADY though this book's central plot and hero are nothing like the movie's misogynistic male lead Henry Wiggins and its focus. I was also reminded of Jo Goodman's A SEASON TO BE SINFUL (**) also featuring a feisty, aggressive pickpocket of a heroine living in poverty whisked off by an weak hero born into his wealth, beauty and title. I thought Goodman's book had better prose and settings than this one though, and there were some genuinely witty exchanges in Goodman's A SEASON TO BE SINFUL whereas this one just resorted to having the hero lust after an unattractive child for the entire novel. Charles fails to think and act on his own to proactively protect the heroine from the villain hounding her.
The Story, possible SPOILERS ahead.
Tall, rich, and handsome Lord Edgington, Charles Crossham, makes a bet with his sister to pass off a street urchin as a lady of the peerage at the next Edgington social gathering. Charles wants his sister Millie to retract some harmful words slandering a girl Charles helped introduce into Society (unknown to his sister). If Charles is successful passing of a guttersnipe into society without anyone taking notice, Millie agrees to not only retract her harmful words, but to convince their mother to introduce the victimized girl herself next Season.
Meanwhile short, scrawny and plain-faced Maggie King and her "retinue" of poor friends ("chavies") survive day to day in poverty. Maggie is a dance hall singer and manages to make enough to pay for a small, congested flat for 8 or 9 of them total. The dance hall she worked at fired her and she can't seem to convince any other dancing hall to take her. She needs money to pay the rent and quickly all the while she ignores requests for a meeting with the mob boss Danny O'Sullivan.
At an audition, opera connoisseur Charles takes notice of Maggie and whisks her away for the wager he intends to win. He installs her in a row house, gives her an allowance of two pounds a week, arranges for new gowns, sets up all of her chavies with jobs and at schools, has tutors train Maggie in Society etiquette, speech and deportment, arranges for singing lessons to help Maggie after the wager runs its course. Charles gives everything he is to Maggie including going down on her. The main plotting with villain Danny and wager between Charles and his sister, both come to head at the party where Maggie must fool Charles' peers into believing she was gently bred.
As a warning, what follows details an account of my gripes with the plotting and especially our hero Charles.
Towards the end, Charles watches a blatantly distressed Maggie abruptly leave a room full of guests in the middle of a game, and yet he fails to notice the villain (whose identity is a secret to Charles) trail after her. He can't put 2 and 2 together at all? Instead of trying to figure something out and T-H-I-N-K on his own, he spends the rest of the time trying to convince Maggie to tell him who, amongst the guests, she suspects. My gawd I was dying a thousands deaths at this doofus of a hero rack his nonexistent brain to try to figure things out. To the very end, he's completely incapable of putting two and two together on his own and needs Maggie to drop small hints before finally convincing her to spell it out for him. She refuses. Her hints? Maggie asks subtle questions behind the origins of the wager which Charles should have been thinking about and piecing together on his own way before!! Charles = biggest inept dolt in the world. Charles notices nothing and thinks for himself even less. While dressing Maggie, we have: "...the shape of the revolver seemed to shout itself through the cloth of the pocket, but Charles did not seem to notice." Have I mentioned what an oblivious dumb ass Charles is yet?
If Maggie can rise and overcome in Charles' upper-class world by fooling them, I don't understand why Charles can't even make an effort to help Maggie in her world by neutralizing her nemesis Danny. The mob boss Danny O'Sullivan torments Maggie, Charles knows about it, and yet he doesn't even make attempt to dig deeper behind the connection between Maggie and Danny, let alone try to extricate Danny. He pusillanimously accepts Maggie's decision to escape Danny by leaving the country after the end of the wager. He doesn't have to try to strongarm Danny or anything, but maybe he could think of something from a patrician's point-of-view to help remove Danny? Or try to find out more about Maggie's history with him? Or barring all of that, at least investigate what role Danny played in Charles' wager with his sister since Danny apparently set up Maggie's audition which started it all? Instead of proactively doing any of this however, Charles meekly waits around for Danny to strike...
I didn't quite appreciate the way Charles comes to condescend High Society after spending time with Maggie. After Maggie, Charles views those of his class beneath him and their concerns petty (which they probably are), but he cultivates a healthy aversion to the thoughts and concerns of all people from his class, and seriously hates his mother and sister. "Yet his sister's manner of speech was not so different from that of most of the women of his acquaintance. The sophisticated ones were arch and their words barbed, and the ingenues simply burbled..." He's too good for his peers all of a sudden? What does he want them to talk about instead, was he too naive to understand the different concerns between the poor and rich from the beginning? It's reality, get over it, start helping the poor if you feel guilty for being rich, or start living amongst the poor if you feel you're too good for the rich now. I really could have done without Charles' supercilious, condescending attitude towards the upper classes. The contrasting concerns between the poor and rich seemed like a revelation to Charles, is he really that naive? More nonsense from Charles in the same vein: "Part of [Charles] wondered if [Maggie] could possibly ever be taken for a lady, not because she was too coarse but because she had an edge, a certainty and strength and definitiveness that he had never seen emerge from protected parlors of the gently bred." First what does "edge, a certainty and strength and definitiveness" exactly mean? It's too vague. And now not only is he too naive to understand the starkly contrasting problems the poor and rich deal with, but again he wants to generalize all of the "gently bred" as insipid and thoroughly lacking in character. Late in the novel, Maggie receives another note from Danny and after she shares the note with Charles, like a wide-eyed dolt, Charles asks, "What should we do?" Maggie confidently answers she wants to kill him. Charles is in awe of Maggie's determination from living amidst less-than-favorable conditions. Is he really that clueless? I had a tough time abiding this naivety and condescension in Charles' characterization.
I don't know, I really don't believe guys are as deep as so many romance novelists would have us believe. Charles' instant, lascivious desires for child-like, plain Maggie so early in the novel jarred me out of my reading every time. There's really nothing about Maggie for Charles to go ga-ga over: no lips, ordinary hair, plain eyes, no legs, no buttocks, no breasts. When VOICES OF THE NIGHT's heroine Maggie steps onto the stage, our hero Charles finds himself attracted to how proudly Maggie carries herself: chin up and shoulders squared. Now Maggie's proud bearing engenders admiration definitely, but lust? Maggie's miniature, thin, child-like frame and grubby appearance doesn't cool Charles' desire for her one bit. I was a bit repelled by Charles' attraction to Maggie. The book mires Charles' introspection and thoughts with references to Maggie's sharp mind, proud demeanor, "definitiveness," etc., etc. How, then, is he physically attracted to her? It doesn't seem like Maggie possesses any visibly desirable characteristics, and I found Charles' attraction to child-like Maggie 40 pages into the novel on the first day they meet a bit disconcerting to say the least. He wants her based on her proud constitution and, at times, snide remarks? Joyce never fails to remind us how small, frail and scrawny Maggie is and every time she's in Charles' arms, I have this creepy mental picture of a pedophile with a small child. I wish the book stuck to writing from Maggie's perspective because Charles' amorous thoughts towards a small, scrawny Maggie seemed forced, and prompted me to stop, shake my head and remind myself: ah yes, this is a female author writing this guy after all, I have to make some allowances for these unbelievable desires towards a grubby, child-like heroine. These jarring moments occurred every time we're privy to Charles' thoughts.
Conspicuously, not even once does Charles use the word "pretty" or "beautiful" to describe Maggie (even though he's attracted to her). Not even when Maggie dresses up and bathes much later in the novel. Why is Maggie allowed to see Charles as handsome (fairly consistently) but Charles not allowed to see Maggie as beautiful if the attraction is mutual? Maggie notices Charles' broad, tall frame at every turn and how he's "very handsome." Later, the novel has Maggie view him as, " so handsome, unmistakably rich, so smooth and golden, like an idol..." At the dinner table of the party where Maggie acts like a lady, Maggie again sneaks a peak at Charles and is struck by how much he looks like a "handsome Adonis." So why isn't Charles allowed to think of Maggie as "pretty" or "beautiful" even once? Instead, he has deep thoughts admiring Maggie's mind which cause him to have a hard-on. Wow, VOICES OF THE NIGHT harbors a deep, inflated picture of the male psyche and its sexual desires, while simplifying Maggie's attraction for Charles based on his tall, broad-shouldered and handsome countenance. I didn't like any of it.
Much of Charles' salacious reactions to Maggie seems more like a girl's response. For example, "...reaction shot through his body from groin to gut..." Why does this sound like a girl's warm, tingling reaction rippling through her center? A guy's lust isn't this deep! Or better yet, why this reaction at all? What's the foundation? Maggie's intelligence and pride? And this triggers lust? Seriously? So point me to a romance novel where a woman is attracted to a poor, untitled Plain-Joe of medium height for his cunning mind (except Hoyt's THE LEOPARD PRINCE ;)).
Many of Charles' thoughts and musings on Maggie seemed like what a romance novelist pressures on her romance hero, not really a guy's plausible reaction. For instance, "Maggie's face rose in his mind, cunning, wary, her expression alive with intelligence and precocious knowledge of the evils of the world..." And this subsequently drives him to lust: "...the memory came of her, in his arms, her small body drawn...he shifted uncomfortably, willing his erection away..." ?! Again, I have to shake my head and continue as dissonant as all this sounds to me given Maggie's very unattractive appearance.
Lydia Joyce sure doesn't miss a chance to convey Charles' amorous desires for Maggie (yet jarring) in every passage from Charles' perspective. Even when the neighborhood villain brutalizes Maggie's friend Nan, and Maggie's hand visibly tightened on a boy's arm, Joyce makes Charles think again about his desire for Maggie again. So a woman is brutally beaten and raped, Maggie hand simply "tightens" around another boy's arm as a reaction and you have Charles wishing it were his arm? Are you kidding me? It is this type of baseless, lustful introspection from the hero's perspective which make this novel very difficult to digest, I mean a woman was just beaten and raped and Joyce is more interested in making Charles feel more lust for a small, thin, unattractive girl like Maggie.
No, guys really aren't that deep... considering what Charles has to go on, his desire for Maggie seemed way too forced. Later in the novel, at the actual party, Joyce describes her heroine Maggie like so: "...her painful slenderness was transformed into ethereal sublimity, the translucency of her skin glowing like alabaster in the pale light of the gas jets." It isn't clear if this is Charles viewing Maggie as such, but if it is, it's another contrivance. What does "ethereal sublimity" look like anyway? Is that supposed to be pretty? Am I too shallow to ask? In my opinion, it's another example of romance's persistent contrivances at matching up tall, rich, "very handsome" men with ordinary, Plain-Janes.
Other times I had to laugh and ask myself if any guy would truly believe the utter bullshit Charles spews half the time in his thoughts and words. For example, when he's sermonizing, "The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones." Oh... my... lord. Does he even know how he sounds? This is so damn stupid, I don't have the proper words to express my reaction to Joyce's laughably ludicrous characterization of her hero Charles. Is he trying to be deep? Brooding? Tortured? All of the above? Well, it's coming across as foolish and preposterously idiotic.
It's a good thing I was reading Hiaasen's SKIN TIGHT at the same time where the men are hunks and the women are pretty to substantiate the guys' initial lust.
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