The Book of Love
Every so often I encounter an historical romance that reminds me why I’m attracted to the genre. Erin Satie’s book is just such a reminder. I absolutely loved it - seldom do I use the oft- repeated review finale of “I was heartbroken that this book came to an end”, but, in this case, I can report a sad sigh when my eyes turned right for a new chapter and I was confronted with a heading of “Epilogue”.
Where to start with describing the allure of this romance? Well - at first, the “Duke” issue. Like many jaded HR readers, with decades of history as a fan of the genre (and an increasingly critical eye for same-old, same-old) I have become wary of third rate books that trade on the use of Duke after Duke, instead of supplying something halfway literate and, hopefully, more than halfway plausible.
Fortunately, the Duke of Stroud is no usual HR Duke. Instead, he squashed my cynicism by being out of the box extraordinary. To my mind, in him Satie has created a HR hero who is memorable in all the right ways. ( I don’t have to want to live with a HR hero, but I do want to believe that the heroine is right when she decides to love him.) Stroud is a giant of a man, in every way (height, musculature, generosity and loyalty) but accustomed to think of himself as a dolt, who can only attract applause because of his unrivalled talent for creating and completing amazing pranks. (No wonder - he had the misfortune to be parented by a violent, cruel father who delighted in belittling him, warning “ ...here’s how dumb brutes get things done. They hire good people and stay out of their way.” His abused mother abandoned Stroud at the first opportunity, choosing freedom, Italy and affairs rather than staying near her children. How much more impressive is Stroud, therefore, than the Dukes who choose to be callous rakes and abusers themselves, with the excuse that they are driven to it by their pain? Stroud’s pranks make sense, as does the rules he imposes on how they are carried out.)
Thankfully for Stroud he has people who do love him. And then he encounters the heroine, Cordelia Kelly. Immediately, the colossus is felled by intense attraction - and then love. Cordelia is a character as great as Stroud, in part because she is sharp (all angles, tall and thin and fierce, “like a spear” according to Stroud) blunt to the point of brusqueness and fiercely independent, having left a comfortable home and, because of parental banishment, needing to work for a living. (The timing of this romance may be 19th Century, but it is post Regency, so Satie has made no error in making Cordelia a female with an occupation).
Cordelia is also a great character because her creativity and occupation are intriguing, her fierce independence is admirable and her female friendships are realistic/warm/loyal/supportive. Cordelia demands much of others, but also of herself: “What kind of person did she wish to be? The answer was so easy: she wished to be brave and strong and good. Having seized control of her life, she could only blame herself if she failed.”
In terms of the romance, Cordelia’s capacity to see Stroud’s many strengths are an indication of particular perspicacity, because most people believe him to be a fool. Even though I’m an admirer of Stroud, I concede that he would be too much for most women (me included) - and yet Cordelia finds him endearing and clever and (to his sweet consternation) handsome. She even appreciates his pranks (of course the wildly varied ones that help her with the Divorce Act, but even the sneaky switch of her slippers, with her resigned acceptance of this prank making me laugh out loud). And, of course, she appreciates his calm, gentle character, his efforts to truly “know” her, his quirky teasing and his previously untapped romantic streak. (A couple of my favourite scenes in The Book of Love are the third marriage proposal, on bended knee, surrounded by wildflowers, and the glorious follow-up, in the train carriage, when he extols the virtues of “my fiancée”, her gift of “Swedish oranges” and many other offerings - to the increasing befuddlement of other passengers, and to the delight of Cordelia. A magical romantic scene.)
Most contemporary HRs seem to sink or swim on the basis of how successfully they depict the sexual relationship between the h and H. In The Book of Love both Stroud and Cordelia engage in plenty of thinking about it before they engage in full lovemaking. Within minutes of their first meeting, before he even knows her name, Stroud is fantasising: “His first thought had been : “I wonder what she’d say to a man who disappointed her in bed.” The second, following quick behind: “I wonder what she’d say to a man who didn’t disappoint her.” Chances were he’d never learn the answers to either of those questions, and were they mutually exclusive?”
Cordelia is just as stunned, in her own way, to discover that a fleeting meeting with a stranger has aroused her sexual interest for the first time in her life. So the desire between the couple is a presence, almost from the first pages. And yet it is not acted on for much of the story, except through a steadily more enthusiastic series of kisses. Even after they marry, Stroud insists that they sleep together until Cordelia is ready. While that strategy is often used by HR authors, presumably to increase reader interest, it doesn’t always work. In The Book of Love it not only works, but allows for the understanding between the couple to become more complex, the relationship to become more passionate and the final sex scene to be romantic, as well as lusty and even amusing.
Even though Cordelia and Stroud make this story sing, there are other components in this tale which entertained and enlightened me. Satie provides a solid selection of side characters - too many to mention, but positive additions nonetheless. (In particular, the bad choices made by her friend, Olympia.)
Satie not only provides a cast of characters who may provide fodder for future stories, she also crams in loads of info about the books Cordelia creates, illustrates and puts together. I’m sure that the level of detail will not suit all readers, but it fascinated me. I was similarly intrigued by the comparison of ideology and style of the two contemporary feminist crusaders who attract and energise Cordelia’s reforming zeal. I notice that another reviewer is critical of the political aspect of this story, believing that it slows the pace, but I’m a fan of politics, particularly that driven by women, so I was riveted by it. I identified with Cordelia, who left her first meeting wanting to shout slogans in the street “like a mad preacher”, blinded by passionate optimism, only to recognise that reform is hard won and often distressingly slow.
So it’s delightful when Stroud becomes a willing, if anxious partner in delivering a result on the Divorce Bill and amusing when he and Cordelia appear to swap temperaments in order to achieve (some) success. And lovely when Stroud “whines,” on the final page, that Cordelia is going to have higher expectations of him for years and years. She agrees. Both understand that this means they will not only love one another, but can rely on one another to bring out the best in their respective characters. And if that isn’t an exquisite HEA, I don’t know what a “Happy Ever After” truly is.
I accepted a copy of this book from the author, with no requirement for a review.