LynneC’s review of by The Amorous Education of Celia Seaton (The Burgundy Club, Book 3) by Miranda Neville
Historical Romance published by Avon 26 July 11
I’m on a roll. You might recall, I spent a lot of last year looking for a new historical romance author to love. Well, I read the new Loretta Chase and loved it, but she didn’t count, because I’ve loved her books for years. However, I read my first Miranda Neville this week. And I loved that, too. I know she’s not new, but she’s new to me, and that counts, right?
The Amorous Education of Celia Seaton is an old story about the society dandy and the parvenu outsider. Me, I’m a sucker for those stories, if done properly. Cinderella, all that. We first meet Celia when she’s been kidnapped by a man called Constantine. She doesn’t know why. But Constantine takes all her money and possessions, leaving her with next to nothing. Not even her outer clothing. He does the same thing to Tarquin Compton, society dandy, when he encounters him. Except that he takes Tarquin’s memory, too, by knocking him on the head.
I didn’t like the start of the book overmuch. I’m not too keen on amnesia stories, and this one didn’t treat amnesia properly. It’s a serious illness, usually accompanied by other symptoms, but in this case, it’s the old knock on the head stuff. And Celia, instead of being frightened, resigned, or even angry, banters with her assailant. It’s not as if she doesn’t want to live anymore, and she doesn’t know the man who attacked her. Then, when she recognizes Tarquin as the man who ruined her chances in society by calling her a cauliflower, and realizing he doesn’t know who he is, she gives him a new name and claims him as her fiancé. The first third of the book is a road romance, and since I’m usually a sucker for that kind of story, I settled in to read.
But as the story goes on, I begin to like Celia more. And it is her story, far more than it is Tarquin’s. She has spirit, but she’s not stupid, just disorganized, and as I read on, I came to understand that. Tarquin is a dandy and a Corinthian (although Neville avoids using that term), so he enjoys fighting and pugilism. He’s dark and sleek, and the description made me think of an otter. Tarka the otter, to be precise. He never completely comes together for me, from the gangly boy his uncle took in hand, to the tall and distinguished leader of society. I think we’re told a little too much and not shown, even though part of the story takes place in a great country house.
His uncle, the man who mentored him, describes himself early on as not preferring women. Gay, in today’s parlance. Since it didn’t play a part in the story, and his sexual preferences are never referred to again, I couldn’t see why this detail mattered.
Celia has a McGuffin. Something lots of people in the story want, but she doesn’t know what it is. She has also purloined a book that Tarquin had, one of those dirty books gentlemen used to collect, purportedly by Aretino. So her sexual education is largely from the book, although she does get to practice on Tarquin.
There are parts of this story that don’t work for me. The villain, or villains, are a little toothless and the final showdown a bit on the clichéd side. When a certain place enterd into the story I knew it would feature strongly before the end. I also guessed at the nature and location of the McGuffin fairly early on, but I haven’t spoiled your pleasure by saying what and where. And this book isn’t edited particularly well. For instance, a gem was described as having “carets.” However, I had an ARC, so that might be sorted out by the time the book comes out. At the start of the book, there are several sentences that should really have been split into two, and some without commas where a comma would have made more sense. Add to that, the ladies’ hairstyles are referred to as “coiffeur”s a few times. But I want that left in. The idea that every Regency lady walked around with a hairdresser on her head was completely irresistible.
The development of the novel form is evolutionary rather than happening all at once. Scholars tend to agree that after beginnings all over the place, it really starts with Defoe and Robinson Crusoe really on the premise that you have to start somewhere. Throughout the eighteenth century the epistolary (written in the form of letters) and the narrative were the main ones. Pamela and Tom Jones being the most memorable, although everybody should read Roderick Random at least once. The books are usually comic in tone, although Fielding’s endless Clarissa and the utterly charming Evelina by Fanny Burney buck the trend. But all these books are “picaresque” in style. That is, the principle characters go through a series of adventures to get to their happy ending. Or their unhappy one. One of the reasons Pride and Prejudice was so revolutionary is that it went against that. It showed the development of character. Each scene meant something, either in terms of plot development or character development. Usually both. In this book, Neville seems to have returned to the picaresque style. Not every scene meant something. Some seem to be there just for comic effect, and the characters involved never meet again, only referred to once or twice.
While the plot isn’t as close-knit as the modern reader is used to, and sometimes hold a hole or two, or three, once I started enjoying myself, it didn’t matter as much. Character isn’t always bound as tightly to plot, either, so motivation is a little at odds. And while there is a big supporting cast, some of them aren’t as fully developed as they should be to make them interesting. And I can’t say that the sex scenes do that much for me, but since they are written in the style of the rest of the book, with wit and panache, I’m okay with that, too. But describing a penis as a “pintle” isn’t desperately conducive to hotness.
What I really enjoyed is Neville’s style. I don’t know if she had to revise the first chapters over and over, but once I got into the book, I really enjoyed it and just went with the flow. She has a light, witty style that is totally unlike the slapstick style that isn’t to my taste when I’m reading. I don’t necessarily want to guffaw, but I do like to smile sometimes. This book makes me smile quite a lot. I’m definitely up for the next adventure.
Grade: B+
Summary:
Being kidnapped is teaching Miss Celia Seaton a few things about life:
Lesson one: Never disrobe in front of a gentleman . . . unless his request comes at gunpoint.
Lesson two: If, when lost on the moors, you encounter Tarquin Compton, the leader of London society who ruined your marriage prospects, deny any previous acquaintance.
Lesson three: If presented with an opportunity to get back at Mr. Compton, the bigger the lie, the better. A faux engagement should do nicely.
Lesson four: Not all knowledge is found between the covers of a book. But an improper book may further your education in ways you never guessed.
And while an erotic novel may be entertaining, the real thing is even better.
Read an excerpt.
Other books in this series:
