30 Days Book Meme: Day Four
Day four: Favourite book of your favourite series
Eldorado by Baroness Orczy
The first and titular novel is the obvious choice from the Scarlet Pimpernel series, but honestly, there is a reason why the Baroness' debut novel was rejected by so many publishers before Fred Terry and Julia Neilson staged TSP as a play. The ingredients are all there - great characters, exciting plot, historical detail - but then she rather overeggs the narrative.
Eldorado, which is the fourth novel in the series, after the random I Will Repay and the soppy Elusive Pimpernel, is where the Baroness really hits her stride. Based on the rescue of the young Dauphin from the Temple - and the theory that the prince's life was saved by snatching him from prison and installing a deaf-mute pauper in his place was still plausible when the Baroness was writing the story - this sequel has it all: history, romance, danger, sacrifice. Armand loses his head (not literally, sadly) over an actress, Blakeney is betrayed and captured, Marguerite returns to France to save her husband, and the only way for the Pimpernel to save the day is to trade the life of a little boy to save his own. Actually, the resolution is hardly a shocker, but the tortured romance between Percy and Marguerite reaches the acme of intensity during the scene in Percy's cell at the Conciergerie. Kissing stone steps? Pah! That's nothing. I know the Victorians were a bit prudish about love scenes, but modern day 'romance' writers could learn a thing or two from the masters (mistresses) of subtlety: less is more.
"La! little woman," he said with enforced lightness, even whilst his voice quivered with the intensity of passion engendered by her presence, her nearness, the perfume of her hair, "how little they know you, eh? Your brave, beautiful, exquisite soul, shining now through your glorious eyes, would defy the machinations of Satan himself and his horde. Close your dear eyes, my love. I shall go mad with joy if I drink their beauty in any longer."
He held her face between his two hands, and indeed it seemed as if he could not satiate his soul with looking into her eyes. In the midst of so much sorrow, such misery and such deadly fear, never had Marguerite felt quite so happy, never had she felt him so completely her own.
Wow, I've nearly talked myself into reading the book again!
Eldorado by Baroness Orczy
The first and titular novel is the obvious choice from the Scarlet Pimpernel series, but honestly, there is a reason why the Baroness' debut novel was rejected by so many publishers before Fred Terry and Julia Neilson staged TSP as a play. The ingredients are all there - great characters, exciting plot, historical detail - but then she rather overeggs the narrative.
Eldorado, which is the fourth novel in the series, after the random I Will Repay and the soppy Elusive Pimpernel, is where the Baroness really hits her stride. Based on the rescue of the young Dauphin from the Temple - and the theory that the prince's life was saved by snatching him from prison and installing a deaf-mute pauper in his place was still plausible when the Baroness was writing the story - this sequel has it all: history, romance, danger, sacrifice. Armand loses his head (not literally, sadly) over an actress, Blakeney is betrayed and captured, Marguerite returns to France to save her husband, and the only way for the Pimpernel to save the day is to trade the life of a little boy to save his own. Actually, the resolution is hardly a shocker, but the tortured romance between Percy and Marguerite reaches the acme of intensity during the scene in Percy's cell at the Conciergerie. Kissing stone steps? Pah! That's nothing. I know the Victorians were a bit prudish about love scenes, but modern day 'romance' writers could learn a thing or two from the masters (mistresses) of subtlety: less is more.
"La! little woman," he said with enforced lightness, even whilst his voice quivered with the intensity of passion engendered by her presence, her nearness, the perfume of her hair, "how little they know you, eh? Your brave, beautiful, exquisite soul, shining now through your glorious eyes, would defy the machinations of Satan himself and his horde. Close your dear eyes, my love. I shall go mad with joy if I drink their beauty in any longer."
He held her face between his two hands, and indeed it seemed as if he could not satiate his soul with looking into her eyes. In the midst of so much sorrow, such misery and such deadly fear, never had Marguerite felt quite so happy, never had she felt him so completely her own.
Wow, I've nearly talked myself into reading the book again!