We're all a little mad around here

The Uninvited Guests - Sadie Jones (Harper, 2012)

2012 wrap-up coming tomorrow-ish, I hope. (If not, at least know that according to my blog count, I read 50 books this past year. Decent enough statistics.) Until then though, what better way to close out the year than a trip to the turn of the last century: Edwardian England.

This book reminded me of two things: a sitcom episode in which events spiral increasingly out of control, and one of those dreams in which you can't ever get to that thing that you desperately need to do, b/c other things keep happening. Now throw in a dash of Gothic ghoulishness.

It's Emerald's birthday. Her stepfather is away, trying to save the "family" home impractically purchased by Emerald's dead father. He - the stepfather - has only one arm, a fact of no major importance, but dwelt upon all the same. Emerald's mother is weird in that way 19th-century English literature mothers often are. Emerald's brother sulks, her younger sister runs around in a dirty nightgown, hatching schemes that only neglected youngest siblings do, and the housekeeper has only one more set of hands to put together a birthday party. And then there are guests: another set of siblings, and a wealthy farmer's son.

And then there are more. A train accident, and for some reason haggard survivors descent en masse to the house. In a series of events fairly reminiscent of Clue, the family shuts the survivors in a room and then tries to get back to the matter of the dinner party. Except increasingly creepy things start happening, and eventually all hell breaks loose.

The novel turns into something of a fever dream, until the fever breaks. And people awake, a little hungover, but really none the worse off, all things considered.

The absurd marriage makes a lot more sense in books set in the 1800s

His at Night - Sherry Thomas (Bantam Books, 2010)

Ravishing the Heiress - Sherry Thomas (Berkley Sensation, 2012)

And returning to historical romance, which is a far more hilarious genre than I had really given it credit for being. A few months back, I read my first novel by Thomas, which launched the trilogy that RTH picks up. And for a variety of reasons involving book requests, I also ended up with His at Night.

And Thomas doesn't disappoint in the earlier novel, with my favorite "marriage under false pretenses" scenario. Elissande sees unexpected company as her chance to get herself and her aunt out of an abusive home, and swindles a poor, hapless duke into getting caught with her in a compromising position. Of course, he is neither poor nor hapless (just pretending to be) and he sees her trap (which, of course, doesn't stop him falling into it) and hates them both for it.

So again! Everyone's pretending to be something they're not, and lust and romance ensue. Plus there's a scandalous plot involving (more!) secret identities and scandals. Yippie. But again, high on the ZOMG SO CUTE scale.

I was less satisfied by the second read. It's a more ambitious plot - "marriage under forced pretenses" so to speak. Millie is an heiress, Fitz an accidental duke who has to marry well to save his family's land and whatnot. But he has a childhood sweetheart that he really really does not want to let go of. So the book bounces back and forth between the present, eight years after their wedding, and the past, concerning the early days and years of their marriage. It's a lovely testament to the possible success of arranged marriage, as what makes their relationship sparkle is the friendship and respect that have grown over time. But at the same time, you miss the wicked banter and push-and-pull of the romances where both parties are simultaneously attracted and repulsed by one another. But that's coming in the third installment of the trilogy, so huzzah for that.

Dreams and Destruction, or Heyday

When I finish a book that has created a world for me, I get a little dazed and dreamy. Like I'm in love. It's this intense satisfaction, and a tiny effort to hold onto it instead of letting it go and returning to reality. For a long time I wondered if I was the only one who felt this way - but I saw a friend do so last week as he finished Everything is Illuminated (Jonathan Safran Foer) and happily realized I am not alone.

Usually I wait at least a few hours after finishing a book before starting my review, but I am still clutching at the feel, and thinking that writing about Heyday will help. I couldn't tell you how Kurt Andersen's novel made it on my list of books to read. (I sometimes think that books just magically appear on there, but no mind.) Normally I wouldn't expect a novel about mid-nineteenth-century America to appeal to me, but this one involved a "band of brothers" and their quest for a beautiful woman, and hell, I like that. And then Andersen drew me into the complicated and fantastical world of 1848 and 1849 - years of European revolution and counter-revolution, and an American rush for gold in my favorite of states.

Our central hero is Ben Knowles, Londoner transplanted to the land of his adventuresome dreams. But there is also Duff and Polly Lucking - he a soldier with a secret, she his actress (and more) sister - and Renaissance man Timothy Skaggs. Ben's immediately infatuation with Polly forms the heart of the plot. But the central theme is that of discovery and creation - and its converse. America is being born and torn down all at once - even then a land without history. And each character (oh, and there are more that the central four) has his or her own obsessions that relate to creation and destruction. But it's a theme that fits so well with that period in time that it doesn't seem overbearing - even at its most explicit.

My quibble with Heyday is the name-dropping. Of course Knowles is related to Toqueville and Skaggs used to write about Lincoln when he was a small-town lawyer and the group would run into attendees of the Seneca Falls Convention and ... well, you get the point. It's a little out of control. I understand that Andersen is trying to make clear exactly how free-wheeling and eventful and wild this period was, but I could have done with a few fewer references.

What I loved - California. The Golden State, even before it was a state. Andersen refers to the "topsy-turvy summer of '48" in California, and it's an apt term. American exceptionalism runs rampant, and I get bored of it, but I never tire of Californian exceptionalism. I am a snob. :) Even 150 years ago, a magnet for dreamers.