by Georgette Heyer
ages: adult
First sentence: “The library at Fontley Priory, like most of the principal apartments in the sprawling building, looked to the south-east, commanding a prospect of informal gardens and a plantation of poplars, which acted as a wind-break and screened from view the monotony of the fen beyond.”

Actually, that first sentence up there is pretty indicative of the whole novel. And part of the reason I bailed halfway through.

See, I wanted to like this. For many reasons: I really liked the last Georgette Heyer, this is the one we’ve put out for my face-to-face book group in a couple of months, it’s the favorite of a really good friend of mine. But… it’s long winded, schmaltzy, and not nearly silly or light-hearted enough.

The basic plot is decent: Adam Deveril is a captain in the army when he learns of his father’s, Viscount Lyndon, death. Upon returning home, he also learns that his father was overly extravagant, and piled up so many debts that Adam is going to be forced to sell not only his horses and London home, but the family seat, also, in order to just pay off his debts and provide for his mother and sisters. However, that will leave him penniless, so he can’t marry the woman he loves: Julia. Instead, in order to save his ancestral seat, he contracts with a wealthy upstart businessman to marry his daughter, Jenny, in exchange for the money to keep his home. Jenny is practical about this: she knows Adam doesn’t love her and even though she feels affection for him, she doesn’t ever really expect to have him feel it back.

And that was the first half of the book. Sure, I get that Jenny is long-suffering and patient and loving, and will venture to say that Adam will soon learn to value her qualities (beauty is not among them) more than he valued Julia’s beauty and singing voice. (They always do, you know. Men.) And I’m sure there will be a soaring conclusion where Adam and Jenny if not fall happily into each others’ bosoms, then at the very least, marriage will not be so odious and they will be happily practical together. Which is all fine and good.

But I couldn’t wade through the exc!mation marks, and the pages and pages of clothing descriptions and bad dialogue to get there. I wanted light-hearted humor, I wanted a dash of adventure, I wanted silliness, dang it. And I didn’t get any of those.

So, Georgette Heyer, all your books are not equal (which is forgivable). I’ll just have to try another one.