This book is a bizarre mishmash of elements - tortured hero, cutie-pie magic and abstracted heroine, thinking-positive-thoughts that actually affects the outcome of a trial, rapy tangential villains, mysterious did-he-or-didn’t-he-kill-his-wife plot involving only secondary characters (the victim being a character who never actually appears), 18th-century proto-environmentalism, and a protagonist couple that competes at which of them can think the other is stupid with the most frequency (I'd say the hero wins, hands down).
Merely Magic was one of the most artificial and inconsistent romances I've ever read. For one thing, the hero is constantly harping on how logical he is and how illogical she is. If my name were Inigo Montoya, I would only be able to say to him, “You keep using that word. I do not think this word means what you think it means.” For example: when his brother says to him (trying to convince the hero to mistrust his entirely kind and loyal wife), “When was the last time an Ives could trust his wife?” the hero reflects, “There the question stood in all its stark cold logic, asked by the latest victim of an entire string of failed Ives marriages dating back generations.” Um, no, actually I’m pretty sure that the question is an example of a logical fallacy, and emotional manipulation, but nevertheless, despite his constant equation of his emotional reactions with logic, the hero in this book is constantly held up as some kind of intellectual giant.
Another kind of inconsistency is in the narrative itself. Aside from the overwritten sentences with bizarre syntax (“Handsome enough already to have proved his Ives ability to procreate, Ewen crouched on the overgrown drive and attached a gear to what appeared to be a junk heap of scrap metal.”), there are scenes that mood-wise, don’t make any sense. For example, Ninian (the heroine with a gift for supernatural-level empathy) notes on leaving a haunted room that it “[reeks] of anguish and anger,” but never at any point during the preceding scene there does her behaviour give any indication that she’s perceiving anything negative at all. Instead, she’s incongruously cheerful: “her dimples appeared in a bewilderingly unreadable smile,” and she shows “her dancing dimples” and inspires the hero to want to “kiss the mischief off her rosy lips.” WTH? Another example would be when moments after the hero asks her “Why do you insist on believing in superstitious nonsense,” the heroine internally praises the hero for his “open mind that did not exclude her as so many others did.” Again, WTH? As the book is filled with details that seem randomly included, there’s no sense of authenticity in any of the scenes or characters.
Added to the mire of inconsistency are descriptions that just made me want to laugh out loud. It was sometimes because of made-up words like “cacaphonic,” and it was sometimes because of some pretty turgid love-scene moments, such as the reassurance that our intellectual giant hero is no mere pocket protector-wearing geek: “Here was no studious scientist but a stallion in the prime of life, willing and able to service any mare he cornered.” Or, even better: “Moisture pooled in her womb, and her body readied itself for this act she’d never expected to know.” Oh, baby.
Mostly, though, what made this book an ordeal to get through (while at the same time commanding my attention in the same way a traffic accident would), was the constant harping on how bad women are – they’re constantly being described as using machinations, wiles, etc. for the purposes of gaining wealth and status, or deceiving a man into believing another man’s child was his own, or just because they're bored. They’re hellcats, they’re “whining women” that a man must endeavour to avoid “saddling” himself with. Despite the fact that men are apparently helpless victims of women’s scheming, though, women are apparently also pretty thick. When the hero isn’t mistrusting the heroine, he’s dismissing her intelligence – she’s addlepated, a simpleton, crackbrained, illogical, a lunatic, a moonchild. From the perspectives of the female characters, there’s not a great deal more respect for women. The heroine occasionally tries to assert herself, but mostly in a fairly passive way, waiting for the hero to figure out that she actually does know something. Even the heroine describes her (female) family as “pampered” and “light-minded” and this is despite the fact that she knows what their magical abilities are – they helped her in that chanting thing that saved the hero’s bacon in a lawsuit, and later help bring him back to life. Things eventually improve over the course of the book, with the hero becoming more willing to trust the heroine, but this is only in the last 10% or so (and things are not entirely improved, though – the heroine’s condescending description of her family comes in that last stretch, and he's calling her crackbrained right to the end). This and the previous 90% of the book just makes me shake my head; I don’t think I’ve read a romance that felt so overwhelmingly misogynistic in a long time.