Thought I Had Something to Blog About … Guess I Do!

I was excited when I heard about the Bowie Book Club — David Bowie’s son, Duncan Jones, started it on Twitter. The idea is to read some of the books Bowie loved. The first book selected is a 1985 postmodernist novel, Hawksmoor, by Peter Ackroyd. It’s out of print and not available as an ebook, but I requested my library system’s lone copy, and last week it arrived.

I tried, people; I really did. But I just can’t make myself read this novel. It’s a fascinating concept, per Wikipedia, “It tells the parallel stories of Nicholas Dyer, who builds seven churches in 18th-century London for which he needs human sacrifices, and Nicholas Hawksmoor, detective in the 1980s, who investigates murders committed in the same churches.” Dyer is written as working with Sir Christopher Wren, whose work I studied a bit in grad school, but apparently the historical character he is based on was Nicholas Hawksmoor, so I guess there’s some connection there. Which I would figure out if I could read the book. But every other chapter is written from Dyer’s point of view, in an early 18th-century style — you know, confusing spelling, random capitalization, long meandering sentences, indifferent punctuation. It’s hard to process, and it feels like work, especially since it’s rather small print. On paper. Which is not my preferred medium anymore. I have not been able to get into it at all, even once we switched to a third-person contemporary POV in the alternating chapters.

At first I felt some guilt over this. Have my reading muscles atrophied? Have I read so much genre fiction (science fiction, fantasy, romance, mysteries, children’s literature) that I can’t read “hard” stuff anymore? I mean, this book won AWARDS. I am absolutely sure that this is an amazing book, and the “problem” is me. But I am not ashamed to admit that this book was not to my taste. I read for pleasure, and I’m not going to force myself to read anything that isn’t giving me pleasure. I’ve made that call about a number of books, mostly literary fiction, in the last year.

Instead, I thought, what other books might I read that are outside my usual comfort zone? What have I read and enjoyed recently that wasn’t genre fiction? (Not that I think there’s anything wrong with a reading diet of genre fiction, but I feel like stretching myself in a different direction will help take away the bad taste of this “failure.” Because it still feels like that, despite my determination not to let it.) The answer, I’ve decided, is nonfiction. I really enjoyed the book Hidden Figures, so much different from the film, which I still haven’t seen, but I know it’s fabulous. So I’m going to read some nonfiction, focusing on women because that’s what interests me.

I’m starting with A Life in Code: Pioneer Cryptanalyst Elizabeth Smith Friedman, by G. Stuart Smith. I also plan to read The Woman Who Smashed Codes, by James Fagone — it was NPR’s Book of the Year, and is also about Smith Friedman. The third book on my list is Code Girls: the Untold Story of the American Women Code Breakers of World War II, by Liza Mundy. (Yes, I trained as a historian, like my father before me, so reading nonfiction quickly turns into research.) Also on my radar is Radium Girls: The Dark Story of America’s Shining Women, by Kate Moore; it came up while I was looking at the others, and it sounds fascinating.

Hopefully I will enjoy this little experiment, and maybe I’ll be more inclined to blog about it than I have been about my other reading lately. Not that I’ve been reading bad books — I have not, and I have tried to make recommendations on Twitter of the terrific books I have enjoyed, both new ones and re-reads. But that reading feels very personal, and I have not felt like analyzing it enough to write about it. These books may be different.

I welcome other suggestions for my list — what nonfiction about women do you recommend? And if anyone feels like joining in/reading along, that would be great!

We’ve Lost One of the Good Ones: R.I.P. Miranda Neville

Historical romance writer extraordinaire Miranda Neville passed away this week from cancer. It’s sad that this is what it takes to make me blog again, after more than a year of feeling that I had nothing worth saying and/or no energy to say anything. But I cannot let this death pass without paying tribute to one of my favorite writers and favorite people in the romance reading and writing community.

I first encountered Miranda through her debut novel, Never Resist Temptation, in 2009. It was a new release right at the time that I was really getting into historical romance, and it caught my attention because it featured a cross-dressing heroine (cross-gender performance being my jam). Although Miranda grew a lot as a writer in her later works, and developed deeper characters and relationships by doing series, in many ways this book was quintessentially her. Interesting characters, excellent attention to secondary characters, and solid research that doesn’t overwhelm the reader with historical information but does bring the world to life, are all hallmarks of her writing. In addition, this book features a pastry chef, so there are delightful recipes in addition to romance. (Miranda and I shared, among other things, a passion for the Great British Bake-Off.)

Miranda was one of the first people I followed when I joined Twitter in 2010. I quickly discovered that she was quick-witted, wickedly so, and that we viewed the world in similar ways. We both straddled the UK-US line, (although from opposite directions), we were relatively close in age, and she never recommended a book that I didn’t like. Not that our taste always aligned, but she had the (somewhat rare) grace of understanding that and being willing and able to make recommendations based on what she knew I liked. “Horses for courses,” we would say. She read this blog, and occasionally commented. Once she asked me for a spot of help with some research for a book, because I was traveling in the region of England where the book was set. When my honest answer to her question required revising a key scene of her novel, she didn’t blink — she wanted to be accurate, so she changed it, even though it made impossible a central image she had had of the scene. Unflinchingly honest, another fine quality.

Miranda was one of those authors who seemed to always hit my sweet spot as a reader. Even when historical stopped being my go-to, her books were always welcome returns to what I love most about the genre. Her recent independent publishing ventures with Carolyn Jewel, Grace Burrowes and Shana Galen were really fun to read; not all writers can do short works well, but she did. And Song of a Soprano was wonderful, different from anything she would have probably written for Avon. She had talked about doing a similar novel featuring a dancer, although that was way outside her area of expertise. (Being Miranda, she went immediately from the story idea to thinking about the research.) She had a set of three books, the Ladies in Disgrace series, contracted for publication next year. Part of my current grief is that we will never read those books.

Miranda was pretty private about her illness. We talked about it briefly, but she didn’t want to dwell on it, which I understood. I knew that she was unable to participate in the latest anthology project with Carolyn, Grace and Shana, How to Find a Duke in Ten Days, but she was consistently optimistic and upbeat when I heard from her.

I reviewed three of Miranda’s books here on the blog, her Burgundy Club series, books 2, 3 and 4: The Dangerous Viscount (2010), The Amorous Education of Miss Celia Seaton (2011), and Confessions from an Arranged Marriage (2012). (I had also reviewed Never Resist Temptation on the old blog, which is lost to the mists of internet time.) After that, I stopped reviewing her books, partly because I was reviewing less anyway, and most of my reviews were for the TBR Challenge rather than new releases. But the other reason I stopped reviewing her books (although I still raved about them on Twitter and recommended them widely) was that I had begun to think of her as a friend, and reviewing friends was always weird for me. In retrospect, I know that I introduced her work to some people, and she knew that I loved her books, but I wish I had done more to make sure that she knew how I valued her friendship and how very much I admired her.

Since Miranda’s death, I have seen many posts, text messages and emails telling me that many in the romance community share my grief. Many of these folks knew her far better than I did; I still deeply regret being in the wrong one of our shared countries the last time she visited the Bay Area, as it means that I never got to meet her in person. I know that many people’s feelings on her passing are deeper and more personal than mine. But I wanted to add my voice to the chorus. She was a fine writer, a great lady, and a good “pocket friend,” and she is very much missed.

September TBR Challenge: Off the Grid

This month’s theme is “no theme.” I picked Radio Silence, by Alyssa Cole, the first novel in her Off the Grid trilogy. I’ve had this book for about a year, but I haven’t been in a post-apocalyptic mood (hits too close to my fears about real life these days). Realizing that the whole trilogy is available, and trusting Carina Press for a happy ending, I risked it. To my delight. I don’t have time or energy these days for in-depth reviews, but I highly recommend this book.

This novel hit so many buttons for me, in a good way. A diverse set of characters, a lot of humor, honest consideration of racial and cultural differences and stereotypes, wonderful romance and good friendships across all sorts of potentially dividing lines. The simple plot device of all the power going out, so no technology and no information, works well to bring characters together for survival and make them think about things that truly matter. But the flip side of the tension is the need for love and laughter — romantic love, but also the love of true friends, of siblings, of parents and children. That shines in this book.

I feel I should warn potential readers that you will want to read the next book to get answers about the big blackout. It’s called Signal Boost, and the central romance is two gay men. I loved it too, and I’ve already downloaded the final book of the trilogy, Mixed Signals. I hope Ms. Cole continues to write futuristic romance; I want more!

TBRChallenge Review: Something Different

my book this month is Galore by Michael Crumney. It’s an award-winning novel from 2009, set in a
fishing village in Newfoundland. It is “mythic,” meaning strong elements of the supernatural are included as a matter of course. Not really fantasy, though. I knew it was a good choice for this month’s theme of something I wouldn’t normally read because of the epigraph from Gabriel Garcia Marquez: “The invincible power that has moved the world is unrequited, not happy, love.” Yep, that’s pretty far from my comfort zone!

I only finished part one last night, but I thought I’d say a few words about that, since I’m traveling the rest of the week and don’t know when I’ll finish it. It’s an engrossing read, and bot as depressing as I’d expected.

The book starts with a whale being washed up in a small fishing village that has seen several years of poor catches. In the body of the whale is a man, improbably alive, and the reader gets to know the other
characters by their actions and reactions in this strange situation. Although treated like a pariah at first, he leads the fishermen to good catches and is soon seen as a lucky charm. The recent history of the village, people’s alliances, enmities and secrets, are infused with superstition, curses,
miracles and even a ghost. Character is very Aristotelian — the reader gets to know each character by the pattern of choices they make, rather than a lot of internal monologue or revealing point of view. How people treat each other really seems to be the measure of their worth. There are some very funny moments, wonderfully described. The writing is excellent. Part one is in the latter half of the nineteenth century, I think; it’s hard to tell, because the village lifestyle is both primitive and isolated, so the usual context of technology or historical events doesn’t help much. I gather that part two is set later, but I don’t know how much later — I’m not reading any reviews until I’ve encountered the books for myself.

So far, I recommend the writing and the storytelling. But I’m still dreading a less-than-satisfying ending, so no unreserved recommendation yet.

TBR Challenge: Contemporary, a Bit Old School

Silhouette Intimate Moments book cover

A Soldier’s Heart, by Kathleen Korbel

I dug deep in what remains of my print TBR pile for this month’s book, because Miss Bates and others were discussing it on Twitter. I remembered buying it used, on someone’s recommendation (probably Sunita’s), back when I still permitted myself to visit used book stores and library sales. It fits this month’s challenge, because it was contemporary when written, but it was published more than 20 years ago, so I anticipated an “old school” feel.

Content warning: this book is about two people with PTSD, veterans of the Viet Nam conflict. There are some graphic descriptions and flashback incidents, which I will not discuss in detail here.

The subtitle of this book is “War and remembrance” — or perhaps that’s a connected set of books in the Silhouette line? Anyway, I knew from the back cover copy that this was a romance about a Marine veteran and a former army nurse who met in Viet Nam and are connecting 20 years later. And although she was the nurse and he was the patient, now the roles are somewhat reversed: “they’d shared the same overwhelming emotions and uncontrollable rage. But he had learned to handle the horror, while her soldier’s heart was breaking beneath her woman’s soul.”

Claire is a nurse, widowed with two teenagers, who also runs a tearoom in Virginia that she wants to open as a B&B when the building is fully restored and renovated. She has managed to keep her memories of Viet Nam suppressed, for the most part, devoting herself to her job, her B&B project, and most of all, her children. “As long as my children are all right, I’ll be all right” has been her mantra since the oldest was born. But a crisis has shattered her self-control and repression, brought on by her son’s desire to enlist as a fighter pilot and Tony’s visit to thank her for saving his life in Viet Nam.

Tony’s visit to Claire is the last in a series of encounters he has undertaken to deal with his own memories and trauma. After years of counseling, he has faced the losses of Viet Nam, saying good-bye to many of his comrades, and has visited with other survivors. Finding the nurse who wouldn’t let him die alongside his friend, when both men were badly wounded and infected, is closure that he wants, so he tracks her down and travels to Virginia to meet and thank her. But when his visit sets off a flashback episode, he realizes that she hasn’t had the help he has had, and that she is suffering PTSD as well. So he brings his own teenage daughter to Virginia and moves in to help with the B&B construction and to try to help Claire come to terms with her memories and trauma.

This is a harrowing book. I’m not sure I could have read it if it wasn’t a category romance; I knew it would work out okay in the end, and that was all that kept me going. Claire’s suffering is depicted vividly and believably, and there are no easy answers or quick fixes. The author seems to have done thorough research; it’s not info-dumped, but there’s a lot of history as well as contemporary detail in the Viet Nam memories and in the depiction of treatment of PTSD, especially for women. I did not know before that what we now call PTSD (shell shock in the first world war, battle fatigue in the second) was called “soldier’s heart” in Civil War veterans. Korbel makes good use of this in the book.

Any romance novel that depicts one character involved in major recovery faces a challenge: how does the romance intertwine with the recovery? How can the reader be sure both that recovery has taken place (without short-cuts or miracles, please), and that the relationship is based on more than neediness or gratitude? This book manages that pretty well. Tom is instrumental in Claire’s decision to seek help and healing, but it is clearly her journey (without him, for a time). They only commit to a life together once she is sure she’ll be okay. The final scene, which takes place at the Viet Nam Memorial wall, had me sobbing.

I’m not always a high-angst reader, but this one really worked for me. It was emotionally wrenching, ultimately satisfying, and avoided the many pitfalls that come with this territory. I wish the book was available digitally, but for now used copies seem the only option.

TBR Challenge Review: Series Return

This month’s challenge was to read a book in a series that I’ve gotten away from. I had to look for a while to find one of those, but when I did, it was a good one. I really liked the first few books in Kristen Callihan’s Darkest London series, but I stopped reading them because the level of violence was a bit much for me at the time. I jumped back in with book four, Shadowdance. Shadowdance book cover

I found that I easily picked up the story; Callihan excels in introducing the main characters in each book during the previous book in the series. Mary Chase and Jack Talent were important characters with a clear attraction to one another in Winterblaze, and there was skillful exposition in this book to remind me of what went before.

Mary is a GIM (Ghost in the Machine), a person whose recently dead body was reanimated with a clockwork heart before her spirit left the earthly plane. GIMs are created by one person, the mysterious Adam, and they have some supernatural abilities. Jack is a shifter, a rare supernatural being who can change his physical shape into anything or anyone. Both work for the Society for the Suppression of Supernaturals, a group dedicated to keeping supernatural beings secret from larger human society. In the previous book, it was clear that the two had a serious lust-hate relationship. Jack seems to despise Mary, but he is also attracted to her, and she rescued him from demons who were torturing him (an event that still dominates his thinking and motivates his actions). They are assigned to work together to solve a series of murders of supernatural beings, and that turns out to be just one facet of a plot that revolves around Jack and his blood, which heals anyone who drinks it.

Jack is about as tormented as a hero can be; he endured horrible things at the hands of his demon captors, and even before that, his life was difficult. He has anger management problems, he is incredibly secretive, and he often seems selfish. He is driven by both a need for revenge and a desire for justice; as long as the two can be pursued together, he manages to keep things together.

Mary also has a pretty awful past, but she likes life as a GIM and is devoted to her work. She is smart, and she stands up for herself against Jack. She insists on being his partner and his equal, and he accepts that without too much resistance.

The relationship between these two goes beyond the usual push away-pull close dynamic of a hate-lust coupling; they are tied together through work, through friends and family, and by the fact that she rescued him from death. Neither of them has even been in love before, or had a sexual relationship, so that adds a level of fumbling and uncertainty to their courtship that I found pretty believable. Love-hate stories often make me want to scream, “Oh just admit it and move on!” But in this case, I felt that I understood their obstacles, as one and then the other pulled back from their developing intimacy. There were some surprising twists and revelations, and I thought those were handled skillfully. If memory serves, all of these books climax with a confrontation with evil where both main characters’ lives are at risk, and they have to love and trust each other enough to survive. It’s a wonderful way to convince the reader, as well as the characters, of the power of the bond between them.

The world building in Darkest London is excellent, and I was as involved in the overall plot as I was in Mary and Jack’s relationship; indeed, the two are intertwined well. “Dark” is rather a mild adjective at times; rape, dismembering, murder and slavery are all features of the supernatural world of these books. But as with many fantasy settings, the reward comes from watching good people do good things in the face of all that darkness, and ultimately triumphing over at least some of it by the end of the novel. I probably won’t be reading the next book very soon, because a little goes a long way for me. But I am confident that when I do read Evernight, I’ll be able to slip back into Darkest London with ease.

TBR Challenge: Short and Sweet

This month’s TBR Challenge theme is “We Love Short Shorts!” So I dug this UK charity store purchase off the shelf.

The Temp and the Tycoon clocks in at 95 pages. It was published in 2004 in a series of shorts celebrating 100 years of Mills and Boon. Liz Fielding is an author I’ve had recommended to me, but this is the first book of hers I’ve read. It won’t be the last.

The book starts off checking a bunch of romance genre boxes. The main characters and the set-up have quite a few familiar elements.

Our heroine, Talie, is short, with uncontrollable curls; she is outgoing, talkative, impulsive and kind to strangers. She often has to rush places, or is late, because she was doing a good deed. But although she seems scatterbrained, she is actually very smart and takes excellent shorthand. And she only works as a temp.

Our hero, Jude, is a self-made billionaire who is completely focused on his business. He has no interest in romance (he got burned once by a woman who used him to get business secrets that she used for insider trading). He is a perfectionist, demanding to work for, and very handsome (“totally scrummy”).

They meet cute in the elevator of his building; she’s running late to start as a temp for one of his underlings, and there’s an instant spark. (Can you hear my “of course” after each of these?) She tells him her good Samaritan reason for being late, and he passes along word that she’s not to be given a hard time about it. She temps for a couple of weeks, but they don’t see each other — he’s never in her part of the building, and although she hangs out by the elevators, she doesn’t see him (and of course she doesn’t know he’s the demanding perfectionist who owns the company). Neither can get the other out of their mind after that first encounter.

Then his PA, Heather, takes a hand. She is supposed to accompany Jude to New York on a business trip, but her daughter goes into early labor. So she calls Talie and hires her to go in her place, without telling Jude whom the replacement will be. Big surprises all around at the airport, but off they go. Talie has always wanted to go to New York, and she has lots of things she wants to see and do, mostly from watching movies with her mother. Jude tells her that they are only there to work, so she’d best come back someday as a tourist. All of this is in the first two chapters (27 pages).

Honestly, the set-up would probably have put me off, but Fielding writes well, and Talie was an engaging character. I took longer to warm up to Jude, but eventually he stops dismissing (and resisting his attraction to) Talie and starts trying to figure her out. They both become dimensional characters, busting out of the stereotypes proclaimed in the title, and I found myself quite invested in them working it out. For Talie, that mostly involved learning to trust Jude, which understandably takes a while (not a LONG while; it’s a short book).

Although Jude is the one who resists getting close to people, in the classic “all work, no play billionaire” role, it turns out to be Talie who has the harder time opening up and letting love in. Jude is the one who has to do the work — he has to prove himself trustworthy, and prove that he loves her enough to take on her personal burden. More than that, he has to show her that he is happy to do it, and that their lives and others’ are better when they are together. I thought this passage was wonderful: “Jude didn’t hang about in the hope that she’d change her mind. He didn’t want her to change her mind. He wanted her so sure, so certain, that nothing would stop her.”

Winning Talie over involves sharing his feelings, convincing her that he really loves her, and also helping her mother, whose care is the reason Talie only takes temporary jobs. All of that resolves in the last four pages, but it works. Win.

TBR Challenge: Holiday Romance

I’ve been on quite a spree of holiday novellas lately. Short and sweet has suited my mood; real life is challenging enough, and with enough sadness, that I haven’t wanted to feel strong negative emotions in my reading. Many favorite authors produced holiday romances this year — I highly recommend Christmas In Duke Street by Carolyn Jewel, Miranda Neville, Grace Burrowes and Shana Galen. And the TBR held a collection of Carla Kelly Christmas stories, published a few years ago, entitled simply Carla Kelly’s Christmas Collection.

Kelly’s traditional Regency romances are comfort reads for me. Her central characters are reliably good people, but they aren’t always nobles (and are rarely of the highest echelons). Her stories often feature children, and finding companionship and making a family are featured highly in her happy endings. There isn’t explicit sex, but sexual attraction is acknowledged and valued within the context of the other characteristics of committed love. And there is humor, blessed humor.

“The Christmas Ornament” tells the story of an Oxford don who is encouraged by an old family friend to court his “bookish” youngest daughter. James knew Olivia as a child, and he thinks he is ready to be married, so he is amenable. But Olivia is much more than he expects, and he finds that involvement with an intelligent woman is both more challenging and more rewarding than he expected. To win her, he has to learn to see her as his equal. I liked that a lot.

“Make a Joyful Noise” is the story of a widower who is raising two children with the help of his mother and farming the family estate after military service in India. In his efforts to recruit good voices for the local church choir, he befriends a young Welsh woman, a pregnant widow who is living unhappily with her resentful in-laws. I liked the humor in this story surrounding the choir competition, and I liked how the main characters dealt with the issues of each other’s children, focusing on creating happy family.

“An Object of Charity” was not as good as the first two, in my opinion. All three stories are dominated by the hero’s point of view, but Kelly balances that better in the others. In this one, the young woman is much less distinctive and serves largely as a placeholder. Captain Lynch has a three-month break in his Navy service while his ship is being refitted, and Sally is the orphaned niece of a man who died in service on his ship. Lynch is estranged from his family, due to circumstances that felt rather far-fetched to me. He impulsively decides to take Sally and her brother to spend Christmas with the mother he’s had no contact with for many years, and to see his brother, the cause of his estrangement. It’s a bit too much story to fit in this length, so some things feel implausible while others feel rushed. I never really got to know Sally, or to understand why she was in love — except that Lynch has money and social position, while she is essentially destitute. I’m not comfortable with large power imbalances in romance, and I didn’t get the character development to convince me that Sally had real agency here. (Also, there are some similarities between this story and Kelly’s new full-length novel, Do No Harm, which I loved. This story suffered from the comparison.)

“The Three Kings,” in contrast, is told from the woman’s point of view. Sarah is in Spain with the British army, where she was working with her brother to find some lost records of Christopher Columbus’s voyages to the New World. Her brother has been killed, so she has to take the papers back to England through Portugal; this is no easy feat, given the unrest of the countryside and the danger posed by the French army. Sarah’s hero is a Spanish colonel, who agrees to escort her part way and ends up rescuing her from the French. He is trying to get home to spend Christmas with his motherless daughters. They face dangerous circumstances and close calls together, but I found the story hard to follow and the character/relationship development choppy.

I’m glad I read this collection, even though the quality was uneven. Weak Carla Kelly is still better than some things I’ve seen praised in historical romance lately.

Five Books Everyone Should Read

I wrote a guest post for Holly and Rowena over at Book Binge today. It was a fun challenge to pick only five books. You can see what I picked and why here.

TBR Challenge: All about the Hype

Wendy describes this month’s TBR Challenge theme as “a book or author that got everybody talking.” I looked through my TBR for something that I bought because lots of people were talking about it, but that I hadn’t read yet. I ended up selecting Temptation, by Charlotte Lamb.
Harlequin Presents book cover
Many romance readers/reviewers who have been reading romance longer than I have talk about Charlotte Lamb. Jane and Sunita from Dear Author have written about her, and so has Miss Bates. I’m pretty sure I bought this book because of a conversation on Twitter where I felt like everyone had read this author but me.

I can’t say that this book worked for me as a romance. It felt more like an endurance test; it’s only 188 pages, and it took me only one evening to read, but getting through it was rough. Let’s talk about why.

First, this is a 1979 Harlequin Presents, which means we will have big power imbalance (represented by money, age and/or social class). Yep, Joss White (actually Sir Joshua Wyatt) is a 39 year-old shipping magnate, with a fancy London townhouse, a lavish country estate, and lots of money to spend on cars, jewelry and travel. Linden Howard is not yet 18, the daughter of a painter, who lives in rural Yorkshire in a rented farmhouse. Joss crashes a vintage car near the farmhouse, and Linden and her father take him in while it’s being repaired. Linden has long blonde hair and looks like a “Pre-Raphaelite angel”; Joss is “dark” and “brooding” and “flinty.” (Yes, definitely a Presents!) Joss is amazed and intrigued by Linden’s innocence and quirkiness; he kisses her, dances with her, and eventually seduces her. Then he leaves.

Linden’s mother died when she was born, and her father is still heart-broken. He isn’t affectionate with Linden at all, since she looks like her mother. She spends most of the year away at school in a convent, and she expects that once she’s no longer a child, he will want her to leave. He’s a gifted painter whose work is very grim, and Linden isn’t sure that he actually loves her the way most fathers love their daughters. Having been without much affection, she responds strongly to Joss’s attention; she falls head over heels in love with him, even knowing that he is twice her age.

Linden asks Joss if he’s married or has children; he lies to her and says no. In fact, he is married, but his wife (who he didn’t love in the first place) is a “vegetable” due to a car accident. He also has a son, Daniel, who is just two years older than Linden. He falls in love with Linden, but after they have sex, he admits to her father that he actually is married and leaves. Linden is so upset that she contemplates suicide (high drama in Presents); her father comes after her, falls, and is seriously injured. She nurses him back to health and then they travel together for several months. Having almost lost her, he realizes that he loves his daughter. They develop a much stronger relationship. All of this takes less than 80 pages.

Linden decides to attend college and study art, even though she lacks her father’s genius. She makes friends but doesn’t date; she’s still in love with Joss, although she also hates him and fantasizes about killing him. One day she meets a young man driving the same kind of classic car that Joss wrecked when they met, and they get along so well that she agrees to date him. His name is Daniel Wyatt, and his father is Sir Joshua. His mother was an invalid who recently passed away. The reader figures it out pretty quickly, but Linden has no idea that she’s dating Joss’s son until she goes home with Daniel for Christmas. (Another 16 pages gone.)

This is a really ugly situation. Joss/Josh, tells Linden that he loves her, that he’s always loved, her, that he still wants her, that he knows he doesn’t deserve her, and that he’s sorry. Very sorry. She tells him that she loves him too, but also hates him, because he is selfish and put his needs before hers. She wants him to suffer and wishes she could kill him. Linden’s dramatic exit from Josh’s room is interrupted by Daniel. He figures out some things and gets them to tell him the rest. He then denounces them both and leaves.

We’re now about two-thirds through the book, and while it has been dramatic and angsty, I’m not really feeling it. I feel sorry for Linden, and really sorry for Daniel, and I think Joss is an asshole. I think that’s how I’m supposed to feel, because now Lamb sets out to make me feel sorry for Joss. I think.

In a move that I cannot understand, Linden agrees to marry Joss. Because she loves him, but also because she hates him and wants to make him suffer. She makes him promise not to touch her and warns him that she might fall in love with someone else someday; he says he deserves whatever happens and that he just wants to take care of her and make her happy. So he spends a lot of money on jewelry and clothes for her, and they get married. Her father tries to talk her out of it, warning her that this is not a good way to get revenge. Duh!

Here’s a passage of Linden’s thoughts, after she has agreed to the marriage:

Somehow she had defeated him. He loved her. For once in his triumphant life, Joss had been humbled, that proud dark head forced to the ground, and she ought to feel a thrill of victory as she looked at him, having won where so many others had lost.

But she didn’t. She felt only weary resignation. She was going to marry him, but she did not want to do it. She loved him and she accepted that he loved her, but his love was never going to be what she wanted or needed. She could not love a man she despised and pitied. He should have been strong, he should have been a fortress for her to shelter in — instead of which she knew herself to be stronger, herself to be the one with a core of steel. That steel had been forged in the fires of anguish he had lit around her. (p. 128)

At this point, I still didn’t like Joss/Josh, but I also really didn’t like Linden. I lost respect for her completely when she decided that rather that trying to make the best life she could for herself, she was going to be all about revenge and making him suffer. Seriously, who wants to live like that? Who values another person’s suffering more than their own happiness?

The last third of the book is mostly Linden making her husband suffer. She won’t have sex with him, but they share a bed. Sometimes she lets him kiss her, even partially undress her, before stopping him and reminding him that he promised not to touch her without her permission. She flirts with his colleagues and spends his money, but she also is a good hostess and plays the role of his wife well enough to fool everyone around them, including Dolly (his dead wife’s mother, to whom he’s still very close.) She gets no real joy out of his suffering, either. Gradually she realizes that she needs him, and she’s starting to have trouble turning him away. When he leaves on a business trip, she spends time with Dolly looking at family pictures and hearing about how Joss suffered in his marriage.

She had made her plans so coolly. Now she doubted her own ability to carry them out. Her revenge was sour. She was killing herself. Lin and Dolly had been right — she could not hurt Joss without hurting herself more. She had shut him up in living hell, but she was there with him, and she did not think she could take any more.

She wanted to belong to him. She wanted to know his lovemaking again. She wanted to bear him children, sons with his dark hair and grey eyes.

At this point, I was beyond caring. I guess these two deserved each other now, but I could not find it in me to celebrate that. Daniel also forgives everybody, so they’re going to be one happy family.(I was happy that Daniel’s life wasn’t ruined by falling for a woman who ended up as his stepmother.) Joss and Linden have a big wrenching scene of sex, confession and forgiveness, and I still didn’t care. It was honestly one of the most disappointed feelings I’ve ever had at the end of a romance novel.

Maybe it’s just this book, or maybe Lamb isn’t for me.

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