The Romantic Armchair Traveller

Argentina: Lazaro's Revenge by Jane Porter

Lazaro Herrera has clawed his way out of the slums and to the top of Argentina’s business elite. But his bitterness against the family who turned their backs on him and his mother burns as fiercely as ever, and his long-planned revenge is finally coming to fruition.

Zoe Collingsworth is the sibling who stayed behind to take care of the family farm in Kentucky, USA, when her father fell victim to Alzheimer’s disease. Her trip to Argentina to visit her sister is the first holiday she has allowed herself in years. On her arrival, however, it is not Daisy or her husband Dante Galván who welcome her, but Lazaro Herrera, Dante’s right-hand man and half-brother. And instead of being driven to the Galván residence in cosmopolitan Buenos Aires she is abducted and taken to Lazaro’s remote estancia on the pampas.

 

Jane Porter’s Lazaro’s Revenge was the first category romance I read as an adult. At that time I was struggling with a debilitating reading slump, and this novel was one of the first I managed to complete in years.

What made me pick it up that day was a) its slimness = minimal investment of time, b) the expectation of a straightforward story = minimal investment of concentration, c) the promise of a love story with a happy ending, and, d) the non-objectionable cover – different from the typical lurid romance covers. I had never heard of Harlequin Sexy (as the Presents line is called in Australia), but remembered categories from my teenage years as quick, easy reads.

I enjoyed Lazaro’s Revenge so much it became a keeper. While these days I own all of Porter’s category romances, Lazaro’s Revenge has remained my favourite. I was curious to reread it and see whether it held up to memory.

Before I go on, I should point out that my adult self is not a fan of the category format. From its authors, the short length requires a keen sense for relevant detail, skilful manipulation of emotion, and a general stripping down to the essentials of a story. I tend to prefer fuller and more complex stories. As regards HPs specifically, in my experience their version of “big emotions” and “strong conflict” too often translates into bullies and doormats about whose HEA I have serious doubts. Driven to extremes, the typical setup of a female protagonist in a vulnerable situation and a powerful male protagonist who exploits that vulnerability to the maximum degree can become staggeringly offensive.

It has been a while since I read my latest HP by Jane Porter, but in the past her characters, too, were sometimes able to make me tremble with rage. The difference was that as flawed as her characters are and however seemingly uneven the balance of power, she usually manages to explain and redeem the hero/heroine in a way that made me empathise with both. None of her category romances have left me bored or cold.

In Lazaro’s Revenge, things are not quite as black-and-white as they at first seem to the outraged, frightened Zoe. Dante has unwittingly played into Lazaro’s revenge scheme by enabling him to set up the hated Galván as a kidnapper in addition to runing him financially by staging a hostile takeover. Zoe’s forced holiday away from Buenos Aires is in fact Dante’s idea of protecting Daisy from news that might provoke yet another miscarriage. The news? Zoe’s rumoured engagement to a despicable conman.

I really like Zoe. When Lazaro tries to calm her fears regarding his intentions and explains that he would never hurt or take advantage of a woman, Zoe swiftly disabuses him about his self-image: holding somebody against their will is harming them. (That not taking advantage of a woman is implicitly accepted here as nobler than not hurting a man deserves a rant, but I will not go there today.) She actively looks for ways to contact the outside world and tries to escape. When that fails, she challenges Lazaro into revealing enough about himself that her view of their situation, and of him, begins to change. Neverttheless, she refuses to act on her growing attraction to him until she ceases to be used as a pawn in the conflict between him and Dante. When she and Lazaro do make love for the first time it is she who initiates it. She is loving and holds on for dear life to optimism when life as she knows it crumbles around her. What keeps her together is the never-abandoned hope that things will improve.

Lazaro Herrera is a man whose quest to earn the respect of the society that rejected him leads him to seek victory at any cost. Through his act of taking Zoe hostage he gradually realizes he has become everything he most hated about the father who rejected him: hard, ruthless, and cold. Instead of elation, he feels shame and loss. I thought him a complex, interesting hero with his flaws and wounds and deep, unselfish love for Zoe. He is, in fact, on my list of favourite romance heroes.

On the other hand, I had a hard time finding anything likeable about Daisy and Dante, Zoe’s sister and brother-in-law. The author creates automatic empathy for Daisy by informing us that her all her pregnacies have ended in miscarriages, but when Daisy actually steps onto the scene she ruins her advantage. Rather than a woman exhausted by personal tragedy I saw a blackmailing shrew who dismisses her sister’s role in the life of their father and mercilessly cuts all bonds to Zoe when Zoe chooses to follow her heart. Dante is even worse. He neither apologize to Zoe nor ever evinces any compassion regarding Lazaro despite knowing the excruciating poverty and hardships their wealthy father forced Lazaro and his mother to endure. To him and to Daisy, Lazaro is simply an evil villain who has abused their good-hearted trust. (Daisy and Dante are the heroine and hero of In Dante’s Debt, which I realize as I write this I have never opened.)

This time the book did not have the visceral effect on me as at the original reading, but it absolutely reminded me of why I love this author’s category romances. Jane Porter’s language is precise, incisive, and intense. With a few words she can paint a clear, vivid image or sharply define a bruising emotion. She tugs at the heartstrings with characters who start out seemingly irredeemable, but who grow and mature through their love for each other. As Zoe might, it is not always the kind of love that makes you feel good – it is the kind of love that makes you feel everything.

 

Excerpt

(Harlequin Mills & Boon Sexy, Australian edition paperback, 2002, page 60):

“Zoe turned her head away, looked toward the splashing river with the swirls of white foam and jagged points of rock. The sun reflected off the water in bright sheets of light and seemed to illuminate even her heart.

If she didn’t escape Lazaro soon, she’d do something stupid.

She’d beg Lazaro to touch her, make love to her.

Lazaro tossed down the twig. ‘We should start back. We’ve got a long ride home.'

They rode along the riverbank,crossing the stream to travel up a grassy hill dotted with oaks and birch trees. The terrain leveled out, turning into more gold grasslands beneath an endless blue sky.

Zoe squinted. A building appeared in the distance. The building became a cluster of buildings. Buildings, fences, cows.

People.

Zoe’s heart thudded. People who could help her. People who could call for help.

Swiftly she calculated the distance, measuring the time it’d take to reach them. Even riding hard, she might not be able to outride Lazaro, but perhaps she could attract their attention.

If she did it, she’d have to act quickly. No mistakes. No second thoughts. No exceptions. Could she do it? Hell, yes.”

Booking Through Thursday: Fictional Beach Buddies

At Booking Through Thursday, Joy asks:

 

Which fictional character (or group of characters) would you like to spend a day at the beach with? Why would he/she/they make good beach buddies?

 

The first character who springs to mind is lovely young chef Bruno from Anthony Capella's The Food Of Love, a book I wrote about earlier this month. After a day of splashing in the surf of an Italian beach, who would not like to sit down to a campfire feast as the sun sets over the Mediterranean sea? Read the excerpt and see what I mean :-)

Viola survives a shipwreck, disguises herself as a pageboy and proceeds to succeed in a man's profession, cures Duke Orsino of his self-absorption, and generally carries the day in Shakespeare's Twelfth Night. She would have some entertaining anecdotes to contribute to the fireside conversation! (In Trevor Nunn's 1996 film adaptation Imogen Stubbs plays Viola with great verve and sensitivity, and although I have seen the play performed on stage, I think this is my favourite version.)

Finally, as night scatters her stars across the heavens, I would ask Cathar troubadour and former Templar Hugo de Franjal from Laura Gilmour Bennett's historical romance, A Wheel Of Stars, to sweeten the air with his softest melodies.

 

Feel free to share the link to your own Booking Through Thursday thoughts!

 

Transylvania: The Dead Travel Fast by Deanna Raybourn

An adventurous Victorian author-heroine, an atmospheric castle in a region made legendary by Bram Stoker, a secretive host family, and a murder mystery that coyly hints at the vampiric, all offered up in capable prose: The Dead Travel Fast by Deanna Raybourn carries the promise of delightful shivers and darkly intriguing romance. How on earth did it turn out dull?

 

1858. Author Theodora Lestrange leaves stifling family expectations and a disappointed suitor behind in Scotland to travel to her school friend Cosmina’s wedding in the Grand Principality of Transylvania (under the rule of the Austrian Habsburgs). She expects to find inspiration for her new novel there, and indeed discovers more than she bargained for.

Firstly, the wedding is off. Secondly, the supposed bridegroom, Count Andrei Dragulescu, casts smouldering looks over Theodora. Thirdly, a servant is found dead with puncture-marks on her neck. Add howling wolves and superstitious townspeople, and this becomes a soujourn that will change Theodora’s life – if it doesn’t kill her first.

 

I must point out that despite my flippant summary, this is not a comedy. The logo on the book spine classifies The Dead Travel Fast as historical fiction but I deem the tone and style vintage gothic romance. The cover, too, seems to imply a dark, sensuous, shivery read (the evocative title is drawn from the first chapter of Bram Stoker’s Dracula), depicting a candle-lit head-and-shoulders portrait of a woman in blood-red brocade. Although why she must thrust her breasts at the reader quite so generously escapes me; the level of sensuality in the book is certainly not spicy.

The Dead Travel Fast treads predictable paths. That in itself is posed no hindrance to my enjoyment: I have a fondness for gothic traditions and welcome the first person point of view. The first chapter caught my imagination with smooth writing, interesting characters, and a nice period voice. As for the paranormal component hinted at by the setting and the developing mystery, I like seeing tropes turned on their head and rather hoped that the vampire element would be revealed to be a smoke screen. Above all, I appreciated the well-wrought details that went into creating an eerie atmosphere full of murky undercurrents.

Where the novel fell flat for me was in the portrayals and interactions of the heroine and hero. After a solid start that sets Theodora up as a competent, intrepid individual whose unconventional leanings make her a heroine who is true to the period yet possesses attributes that make her naturally gravitate toward non-conformism, her character undergoes a marked change after she arrives at the castle. It is not merely a case of the atmosphere affecting her nerves or the experience of falling in love. No, I felt I lost hold of Theodora because her character suddenly becomes vague, morphous, inefficient; it was almost as if the author forgot herself and began using Theodora mainly a conduit for experiencing the other characters.

As for Andrei, he is too busy being a gothic stereotype to become a fully-fledged character in his own right. By turns aloof, by turns melodramatic, he seems intended to be a darkly seductive Byronic or Brontëesque hero yet fails miserably in the charisma department. Worse, he did not convince me that he deserved Theodora’s love. The lack of chemistry I perceived between Andrei and Theodora became especially problematic in their first love scene (the only one I read). Clinical and unemotional in tone, it also felt awkwardly written. Due to the manner in which the author chose to handle the scene it seemed as if the characters were having sex mainly to get it out of the way, and were both embarrassed about involving emotions. The latter could in theory have worked nicely both as an illuminating flash of period behaviour and a vehicle for character exploration. Instead, the technical execution left me with a slight feeling of distaste.

By contrast, Theodora’s rejected suitor, her publisher, Charles Beecroft, was well-developed, real and solid, winning my sympathies by proving an eminently likeable gentleman and true friend. Reading the first chapter I was even wondering whether the author was intending to pull a refreshing trick and have him instead of the back blurb’s nobleman be the actual hero. Theodora is straightforward and self-confident with Charles, whereas in the company of Andrei she becomes shy and almost childlike in her tremulous fascination.

Consequently, once the suspense began to falter, too, the story began to drag for me. I started putting the book down frequently, and when I picked it up again I would resort to skimming.

 

Warning: end spoiler:

Ultimately I skipped ahead to the end in a last effort to muster enthusiasm. Unfortunately, the pragmatic tenor of the relationship dismayed me. The buildup of the relationship had revolved around romantic attraction of the romance genre type rather than being an exploration of the meaning of love as seen in literary fiction. The last chapters jolted me from a romance into mainstream fiction. There is an HEA, but the impression it left on me was melancholy rather than uplifting. (In fact, it reminded me of the depressing quality of some of Victoria Holt’s books; an unspoken message that one must not demand too much of love, which does not have so much to do with an attempt at realism as with a certain gloomy outlook on life.) The very last paragraph reconciled me somewhat because in it Theodora’s story is shown to have come full circle. It is a fitting end that reflects an endearingly smug contentment.

End of spoiler.

 

The Dead Travel Fast is a novel to which I eagerly looked forward based on the setting, the subject matter, and praise for Deanna Raybourn’s romantic mystery series featuring Lady Julia (which I have not read). Although at times the story came close to earning a favourable opinion the characters ultimately failed to click with me. Still, the elements I did like were sufficiently engaging to entice me to give the book another chance at some future date. A snowstorm roaring around the eaves and a mug of hot chocolate at my lips might help tip the scales.

 

Excerpt (MIRA Books, 2010, page 178):

"He braced himself to pull away his coat and waistcoat, and it was then that I saw the first scarlet drops seeping through the white linen wound about his neck.

A chill ran through me, and I felt my heartbeat hard and fast in my throat as I stared in horror.

'What is it?' he demanded. Seeing the direction of my gaze, he put his hand to his neckcloth. His finger came away red, and he stared at it.

'An accident, when I shaved,' he said, but his complexion had gone white as marble, and he thrust himself away from me. The word strigoi hovered unspoken between us, souring the air.

'Go now,' he said harshly. He turned from me, and I rose, hesitating. Even then, I did not wish to leave him, even then, when the first seeded doubts about what he was began to flower.

He glanced once over his shoulder. 'I will save you even if you will not save yourself,' he said, his voice low and menacing. 'Go to your room and bolt the door. Hang the basil and say your prayers. Go now!' he roared, and I gathered up my skirts and fled from him."

Teaser Tuesday: The Man In The Brown Suit by Agatha Christie

Teaser Tuesday is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by Miz B of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

 

• Grab your current read
• Open to a random page
• Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
• Be careful not to include spoilers! (Make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away. You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
• Share the title and author, too, so that other Teaser Tuesday participants can add the book to their TBR lists if they like your teasers!

My teaser

From The Man In The Brown Suit by Agatha Christie (Triad Grafton, 1986, page 51):

"My histrionic talents had been wasted. I pulled the cabin trunk out a little farther and said: 'Come out at once, please,' in an acid voice."

One of Agatha Christie's earliest novels, The Man In The Brown Suit is as much a hot-blooded romance as it is a humorous mystery. Long a favourite of mine, I suspect it will appeal greatly to other fans of Elizabeth Peters, too, specifically those who love the Vicky Bliss series and Peters's stand-alone gothics. It features an enormously likeable heroine who in the course of a murder investigation spends her last money on an adventurous ocean voyage to South Africa, where she hopes to start a new life. Nonstop action, humour, an intriguing plot, eccentric characters, an alpha-male hero, and beautiful African settings add up to bliss for a romantic armchair traveller.

(Note, the cover I have posted above is not that of my edition, which is so horrid I could not stomach putting it up here!)

 

Feel free to post a link to your own Tuesday Teaser!

China: Tempted Tigress by Jade Lee

Jade Lee’s Tempted Tigress belongs to that rare species, a romance that honours the label ‘historical’. Its characters are creatures of a specific time, place, and culture. It also happens to be an erotic romance, which took me by surprise and at first put me off. As it turns out, my purchase of Tempted Tigress - an impulse primarily motivated by the uncommon setting, China – proved the luckiest of mistakes.

 

1900. In the twilight years of the Qing dynasty, China is riven by internal as well as external power struggles. The traditionalist Empress Dowager has staged a coup and put the reforming young Emperor under house arrest, and foreign empires are assaulting Chinese sovereignty. British merchants are flooding the country with opium.

Tau Zhi-Gang, a mandarin known as the Emperor’s Enforcer, has been tasked with executing anyone involved in drug trafficking. Leaving the politics of the Forbidden City behind he continues battling the opium trade that is enslaving his homeland even as he searches for clues to the whereabouts of his sister, who was sold to pay for Zhi-Gang’s education.

An unwanted orphan turned drug runner, Anna “Sister Marie” Thompson struggles with opium addiction, her one clear goal to get out of China alive. But a white devil, a ghost barbarian, has no allies, and when she is caught by the Enforcer everyone expects her to meet a swift death. The delicate political climate complicates the matter, however. There is only one way the Enforcer can guarantee the white opium smuggler’s death without causing an international incident: marriage. A concubine can be killed by her husband without anyone caring…

 

In Anna and Zhi-Gang, Jade Lee brings together two intelligent, resourceful protagonists whose attempts to outwit each other create a wonderfully dynamic read. As they challenge each other, they slice through their opponent’s self-deceit and hypocrisy to expose failings and flaws with ruthless clarity. In doing so, they recognize a shared darkness that has shaped who they are. Both have sought to forget pain and shame, he through sex, she through opium.

At first, Zhi-Gang is reluctantly intrigued and entertained by the enigma Anna poses (she masquerades as a nun), but as they journey through China their mutual liking builds and they transform from enemies to lovers. He gently coaxes her to reveal herself to him mind, soul, and body, and her courage in doing so increases his respect for her. Moreover, in helping Anna fight against her addiction Zhi-Gang gains a reprieve from his own darkness.

Exposure of self plays a crucial role in this story. Pain can only be healed if it is exposed. When Anna and Zhi-Gang turn to each other, sex becomes a form of self-confession, which is why (after my initial surprise) the erotic scenes felt entirely appropriate. Self-revelation leads to compassion, acceptance, and mutual support. Consequently, when this unlikely pair falls in love it is wholly believable.

Unlike many romances, the power of love does not turn these interestingly flawed characters into perfectly healed centerpieces of an adoring world; instead, love becomes the force that enables them to trust each other and carve out a future together despite the odds.

Descriptions of surroundings are rudimentary: a muddy lotus field, a dilapidated tea-house, a two-tiered junk. Yet there is never any question about where we are, because social values, moral attitudes, customs saturate everything that is said and done. Anna, Zhi-Gang, and the supporting cast are not generic figures in a quaint landscape. The author also shows skill in how she gradually weaves in tantalizing glimpses of backstory that awaken understanding and then sympathy for these two seemingly irredeemable characters.

My criticisms are minor. There are a couple of editing slip-ups. At the beginning of the book Anna’s hands are seen as “long and unusually large”. By page 195, they have become “tiny”. As for the love scenes, there is explicit sex before there is emotional connection, and the content, particularly at the beginning, made my mouth purse. That is a subjective and unimportant quibble, however, especially since the sexual content is less than I braced for, and, as motivations are revealed, none of it is gratuitous.

Tempted Tigress is not a romance for the faint of heart or those who prefer fluffiness and morally admirable characters. While the Boxer Rebellion is not directly alluded to, the period in which the novel is set is turbulent. Racial prejudice is rampant on both sides of the cultural divide. As drug trafficking, slavery, and addiction clash, violence permeates everything.

Yet, as books prove every day, good storytellers can draw you into reading experiences you never expected to enjoy. Tempted Tigress goes onto my keeper shelf.

Excerpt

(Dorchester paperback, 2007, page 32-3):

"As if on cue, the boat crew began a low chant. They had been calling to one another in their own boatman's cant for some time. But now the chanting began. The junk was moving, and Anna's smile became genuine. The boat moved smoothly, didn't jerk roughly, every inch dragged from a hundred coolies pulling against the flow of the water. That meant they were traveling south; nearer and nearer to Shanghai and the boat that would take her away.

'Arabian Nights, then,' she said. 'I accept.'

He clearly did not understand the reference. She explained.

"There is a book. It tells the story of a woman trapped by a wealthy man. She is tasked with entertaining him every night. If her stories bored him, she would be killed in the morning."

'How long does she live?'

'A thousand nights - until she is set free,' she lied.

'After telling stories?'

She nodded.

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. 'I will not be amused by stories.'"