The Runaway Viscount by Darcy Burke

The Runaway Viscount by Darcy Burke
Rating: 3 stars out of 5

I received a copy from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. 

This was a zippy and sweet little romance that made me want to read more in the Matchmaking Chronicles series.

The book begins in a snowed in inn (see what I did there?) where Juliana, an intelligent and witty widow, and Lucas, who can probably best be described as a rake with a heart of gold who isn't very good at the rake part, encounter one another for the first time. Sparks fly and clothes fly off, but when the snow dissipates Lucas leaves without a word. A few years later they encounter one another at a house party and Juliana might have held just the tiniest grudge. The rest of the book is dominated by will-they-or-won't-they and misunderstandings, which are generally very well done.

I especially loved the wildly entertaining house party shenanigans. Juliana and Lucas' efforts to get one another's attention when, in fact, they already had one another's full attention were both heart-warming and hilarious. It was so obvious that they were besotted with one another that it always felt more like a when will they than a true will-they-or-won't they, but waiting for the when became so very satisfying. The Blind Man's Bluff game, in particular, was perfection.

I also appreciated the author's relatively realistic approach to sex-- clitoral stimulation is needed, when he is carrying her Lucas needs to set Juliana down to open doors and doesn't just kick them in, and the sex itself, while steamy enough, doesn't consist of feats that people who have actually had sexual partners know aren't possible for mere mortals.

However, a few things really weighed on me while I was reading and prevented a higher rating.

The first two chapters, which set the scene for everything that comes, were by far the weakest part of the book, and I actually thought about DNF toward the end of the second chapter. This would have been a mistake, but having never read Burke before I had nothing but those chapters to go on, and I wasn't impressed with them. These chapters were dialogue heavy, without describing much either about the setting or the main character's feelings. Juliana and Lucas did say in the dialogue why they were attracted to one another, but at that point in the book this was very much told and not shown-- for example, Lucas tells Juliana that he is impressed with her wit, but at that point we had not see her be the slightest bit witty. Brazen, perhaps, but not witty.

I also really couldn't buy into the book's stated main conflict. Juliana and Lucas were both very clear during their encounter at the inn that they only intended to be together sexually, and only until the weather improved enough for them to travel. Maybe it's because I'm in my 30's and don't have time for the pettier things life has to offer any more, but I struggled to understand why Juliana was so upset that a one-time sexual partner, who she herself only wanted to be a one-time sexual partner, failed to say goodbye to her and left when he explicitly said he would leave. Did she really have nothing better to stew on in the ensuing 2 years? It would have been different if she had wanted more to come of the liaison, but at that point she was quite insistent, even in her own mind, that she did not want more.

Now, there was a secondary conflict that was in fact far more compelling-- the fact that Juliana "was afraid to acknowledge her true feelings, let alone embrace them." At one point, after finally having this realization, she muses that maybe she is the "Runaway Widow" rather than Lucas actually being the Runaway Viscount, and that resonated with me and gave more dimension to why she was actually so upset that Lucas left. But there was no hint of this whatsoever in the book before her epiphany about it-- in fact mere pages before she was declaring loudly to Lucas and to anyone else who would listen that she didn't want to marry again. I wish this epiphany had somehow been hinted at instead of coming out of the blue.

Finally, there were a few plot threads that left me with very mixed feelings. Minor spoilers do follow. I appreciated that Burke chose to grapple with infertility in the book. I can only recall one other Historical Romance that I've read that approached this topic, and I liked how it was handled during the courtship here-- somehow both matter-of-factly and with the nuance and consideration it deserved, especially in that time period for the nobility. I also appreciated the existence of Lucas' illegitimate daughter. This is something that is also almost never written about in Historical Romance, and given how prevalent illegitimate children actually were during that time period, it was nice to see the topic get attention.

However, I wish the author had the courage to follow the infertility storyline through to its logical conclusion rather than reverse course to give the cliché happily ever after we all already know and love. And it was very hard for me to believe how overjoyed Juliana was at the existence of Lucas' illegitimate child. The fact that she had no mixed feelings about this bombshell after he failed to mention the child's existence for the whole of the house party, even after they were engaged, was really too much for me.  Perhaps, though, it's more a matter of the fact that I can't relate to the things Juliana is upset about versus those she isn't--most of what really gets her going in this book seems petty beyond belief to me, but she just accepts things I'd think of as potential deal breakers of epic proportions with barely a word.

I would recommend this to fans of Historical Romance with a slightly humorous bent and a super sweet Happily Ever After.

The Magicians by Lev Grossman

The Magicians by Lev Grossman
Rating: 3 stars out of 5

If you want a book that will positively EXPLODE 100 pages from the end before tapering off into the disheartening mess that came before, you need look no further.

For those of you late to the party like me, The Magicians is about Quentin Coldwater, quite possibly the most unlikable character in the history of American literature.  He is accepted into a magic school, graduates, and then finally goes on a wild quest culminating in a particularly jaw-dropping magical fight scene that almost makes the rest of the book worth it and situates this tome safely in the three-star zone.

I have many issues with this book, large and small.  While Grossman's overall writing style is solid, avoiding gaffes of epic proportions, his well-noted overuse of similes is not exaggerated. On one page alone, the following similes occurred: "as if she were floating in a swimming pool;" "like she was blown from Murano glass;" "like a faltering radio signal;" "thin as taffy;" "translucent as cellophane."  I am probably missing one or two due to sheer desensitization.  Grossman also has a knack for putting in details- but not always the details I'd want to know.  I learned more about Quentin's pee than I have ever learned about the pee of another character in any book I've ever read.  We learn when it is acidic.   We learn when it is orange.We learn when he goes to piss against a tree.  It would be one thing if this served a point, but it did not.

Either Grossman or Quentin is sharply misogynistic.  I am not sure which, but will confess I spent most of the book thinking it was Grossman before the last 100 or so pages when I was confronted with the fact that he might know what he's doing  after all.  One woman was, in Quentin's estimation, too pretty to be a paramedic.  Another was described as too pretty to be a magician.  Yet another was described as projecting "both toughness and kindness."  Based on this description ALONE, she is described as "to the best of Quentin's ability to gauge these things, a lesbian."    I won't even touch on the implications of some of the sex in this book.

I was unfortunately left with the vague impression, even at the end, that Grossman wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do.  Is this a legitimate fantasy novel? Is it a satire or parody? Is it a cunning subversion of the genre?  I kind of think maybe it tried to be but Grossman ended up taking himself too seriously for that.

I was not exaggerating when I called Quentin unlikable.  I won't dwell on this overly much, but he is determined to be unhappy, and feels no real remorse for anything whatsoever until the very, very end of the book.  In fact, in life according to Quentin it is the world's fault for not being awesomer and other people's fault for whatever bad things that he himself did.

I did generally enjoy Grossman's writing.  At points, I was taken aback by his way with words, such as when he says "The little girl's hooded eyes expressed a precocious acquaintance with adversity" or during some of his better crafted similes.

Furthermore, in Alice, Quentin's love interest for much of the book, Grossman creates a superb and nuanced character, the moreso because you only figure her out slowly, coming to gradually understand her depths.

I'd recommend this to anyone who doesn't mind a dark book whose characters struggle with morality, anyone who thinks they might be able to read it as a satire, anyone who wants to explore the dark side of the magical, or anyone who loves a good simile ;)

Various Positions by Martha Schabas

Various Positions by Martha Schabas
Rating: 3 stars out of 5
Please note that this review may contain light spoilers. However, it does not contain anything I believe would truly diminish the experience of reading the book.

I picked this young adult title up hoping for some light weekend reading about a dance academy.  Instead, I found a heavy book about dance, yes, but also about sexual awakening, the breakdown and dysfunction of family units, lying (or at least truth that is evasive and unclear), and the ugliness of mental illness.  I'm not sure, based on other reviews, that Schabas intended the last- and it's quite obvious that if she did, most readers did not get it- but for me mental illness and its consequences dominated the book.

This book is about Georgia, a 14-year old with what could best be described as a miserable and checkered home life.  She auditions for, and receives, admission to one of Canada's most prestigious ballet academies, conveniently located within easy driving distance to her home.  As the book continues, Georgia, who is prudish and disgusted by sex at the beginning of the novel, develops an attraction to, and ultimately an unhealthy obsession with, her ballet teacher, Roderick.

I have to disagree with the somewhat disingenuous reviewers who claim that this book is not at all about dance and is all about sex, claiming to have been scandalized and shocked, shocked at the volume and explicit nature of the sex in the book.  In reality Georgia only has sex once in the book, toward the very end, and the scene is neither explicit nor vulgar.  It is true that a large portion of the book focuses on her sexual awakening and the development of a sexual awareness on her part.  While I don't know that I'd let my nonexistent 12 or 14 year old daughter read this book, I didn't find these kinds of feelings or emotions coming from a 14 year old character surprising, and was not put off by them (though I will admit, I could have done without Schabas's descriptions of internet porn involving people running purple popcicles down their 'boobs' (her word) and the like.)

I will admit that the book was less about dancing than I expected, though I'd say that dancing gets a fair number of pages, and that Schabas doesn't flinch away from dealing with some of the real problems in the dance community, from the pressure and the cliquish nature of the dancers to eating disorders.  To me, though, the focus was not sex either.  It was, as stated above, the perils of undiagnosed mental illness and how they will destroy peoples families and lives.  We quickly realize that Georgia's mother has major mental problems, including, at a minimum, major depression so bad that she can't get out of bed to take Georgia to the most important ballet audition of her life and Georgia has to call her sister to do it.  She also possibly suffers from delusions  including the delusion that Georgia's father is unfaithful.  Her dad, in the meantime, literally does not talk to anyone and is almost psychopathic in his desire to cut everyone down.

It comes as no surprise, then, when Georgia begins to suffer from delusions of her own halfway through the book- these centered around Rodrick, her much older dance teacher, and the fact that he wants to have a sexual relationship with her.  They can only be called delusions because, other than touching her thigh a few times while giving her legitimate dance corrections and driving her home once after a very late rehearsal  he literally gives her no encouragement.  None.  In the meantime she becomes increasingly obsessed with him.  None of this was to a degree that was normal.  I was left with the firm conviction that she was mentally ill.  She'd have thoughts such as this to justify the fact that he acted like he had no feelings for her:

"Roderick  knew it was dangerous to put moves on me.  He wasn't in my head like I was, had no proof how I would react."

In the end, after he rejects her as we all know he will, it blows up in her face as everyone believes due to her representations and actions that he actually put the moves on her, perhaps even raping her.  This could have gone in an interesting direction.  Instead, Schabas seemed not to know what to do now that something really interesting and consequential had happened and gave the whole thing up.

And that brings me to what, for me, was the real problem with the book (other than the fact that I'm not positive Schabas even intended the mental illness angle): the ending.  First, Schabas seems to want us to believe that Georgia's mother is not mentally ill, but that her reactions were normal given what she was going through.  I am sorry, but her actions were not normal no matter what she was going through.  Mentally healthy people can get out of bed and can be decent mothers to their children.  She also seems to want us to accept that Georgia has just neatly moved on with her life and that her obsessions and delusions were normal too.  I was 14 once.  So were all my friends.  We had crushes on teachers.  None of us came to believe that they wanted to have sex with us or got to the point of true obsession and ruining their life.  This is not normal either.  Georgia needed help beyond just moving to a new city, which Schabas seems to think would just solve all of her and her mom's problems. Only therapy and possibly medication could possibly do that. Finally, after all the focus on Georgia's sexual maturation, her loss of virginity takes less than a page and is promptly totally forgotten and never mentioned again.  That was unacceptable to me.  All of this prevented me from giving the book the 4 stars I was inclined to and made me think seriously of bumping it to two stars.  All books need some closure and logic, and Schabas did not do that.

A final word about the author and her writing, especially as this is her first work.  I picked this book up on a whim mostly based on it's cover.  I'd never heard of the book or Schabas, but the picture was pretty (yes, I know, so shallow) and reminded me of the fact that I used to dance myself and still love a good ballet.  Despite rating the book only 3 of 5 stars,  Schabas is a talented writer and I hope she will write more.  Her writing style is clear, smooth, and concise, and I think she could do great things with a more polished ending and a clearer focus on what she is trying to convey.  I will definitely give whatever she reads next a try.

Where We Belong by Emily Giffin

Where We Belong by Emily Giffin
Rating: 3 stars out of 5

This book cemented for me the fact that though, while I like Emily Giffin, it doesn't seem as though I'll ever love her.

The premise of the book is that Marian, who I would definitely say is the protagonist despite the fact that the narration is split equally between her and her daughter, Kirby, gave up her child for adoption 18 long years ago.  Now, at the age of 36, Kirby finds her and both their worlds are turned upside down.

I'd like to begin with a word about Giffin generally.  She writes New York city like a mezzo soprano might sing a love song- with rich, warm, compelling undertones.  Anyone who has ever been in New York City and loved it will long to be there again.  This isn't to imply that the book focuses much on New York- it does not- but the snippets Giffin incorporates are lovely, the more so due to their understated nature.

Unfortunately, beyond that, I was unable to become fully immersed in the book.  Maybe it was due to the glib, utterly stereotypical portrayal of adoption and the emotions of the persons involved in adoptions.    Maybe it was the fact that switching between two viewpoints constantly didn't prove the best narrative technique in this book because it didn't allow me to become fully engaged with either Marian or Kirby before being yanked back to the other.  Maybe it was because my ex boyfriend once flirted with a 18-year-old named Kirby at a New Years Eve party in New York City right in front of me and I never fully got over it. (True story.)

But I think it was mostly because Giffin seemed determined to make Marian as unlikable as possible, and most of the other characters either as stereotypical as possible or as utterly incomprehensible as possible.  A novel where you can't really relate to or root for any of the characters is a bleak novel indeed.

I honestly don't know what exactly it was.  Giffin has proven herself well able to make characters doing bad things come across as sympathetic and easy to relate to.  (See Something Borrowed if in doubt.)  However, the problem with Marian is that, throughout the story, she is never made to face the consequences of her actions in any real way.  She continues to make excuses for her heartless, immature, and arguably morally reprehensible decisions and never expresses anything I'd consider to be real remorse.  In the meantime, people forgive her left and right after what could only be described as supremely minimal effort on her part.

I vaguely gathered that we were supposed to dislike her boyfriend, Peter, but I couldn't.  I mostly saw a mature person who was unlucky enough to be dating Marian.  She continually acted out against and blamed him for her own poor decisions, refusing to listen to what were reasonable concerns and suggestions from him.  I actually ended up feeling he was too good for her and that he dodged a bullet- and when the story swung too predictably for it to even be a spoiler to her and Conrad, her 'baby-daddy' I felt strongly that he was too good for her too.

However, unlike some, I greatly enjoyed the ending of the book.  Some describe it as a cliffhanger or a disappointment or a setup for a sequel.  I think those people don't understand what Giffin actually did- leave things slightly ambiguous, just like in real life, while allowing Marian to show her first real character growth in realizing that she can be at peace within herself and move forward.  To me the book was not about romance as much as it was about finding yourself and forgiveness, though, so I approach this from that angle.

I also truly enjoyed Kirby's voice and wish we had gotten to know her better.  I'd recommend this book to anyone who likes Giffin's other novels, clear and crisp writing, or a feel good book that does not require you to think too hard.