She wouldn’t yell “sh*t” if she had a mouthful
“Libby’s London Merchant” by Carla Kelly
OK I’ve always heard that Carla Kelly is a great writer, along the lines of Georgette Heyer. So when I saw an anthology at the bookshop, I figured what the hell, I’ll give it a try.
Lola: Hello Thin Pale Scary Lady.
Thin Pale Scary Lady: *picking up book and gazing at it critically* Lola, this book has no sex, you realize?
Lola: *highly affronted* Are you implying good woman, that I am only attracted to the carnal interactions between individuals, with nary a thought for the emotional and spiritual development of their transcendental love?
Thin Pale Scary Lady: Yes.
Lola: Fair enough.
So I headed back to the RMB office, determined to prove that I do not just need to read about hot nookie between the sheets, on the table, against the wall or anywhere else. As I walked through the door, I sought affirmation. “Sheridan, am I shallow?”
Sheridan continues leafing through Vogue without looking up. “As an evaporating puddle.”
Pah.
So the description of “Libby’s London Merchant” seems pretty typical. Benedict Nesbitt, the wildly handsome and eligible Duke of Knaresborough agrees to help his friend investigate the country miss to whom he’s supposed to become engaged. And since the Duke is trying to avoid the matchmaking efforts of his mother and sister, the chance to escape into the country as a chocolate salesman is highly welcome. That’s right. CHOCOLATE salesman. But when he gets to the country, he slips off his horse and injures himself, right in front of Libby Ames’ house. Libby is the cousin of the girl who Benedict’s friend is supposed to marry. With me so far? She’s very beautiful, slightly headstrong but a caring person. Sorta like me, but I have better clothes.
When Tall Dark and Ducal falls in front of her, Libby is engaged in a conversation with Dr Anthony Cook, the town physician. All I remember of him is that he’s described as being rather ugly, and built like a brick sh*thouse (but in the slightly more genteel terms utilized by Ms Carla Kelly). I skim through the interactions of Libby and Dr Cook, never particularly interested in secondary characters unless they have Potential For Hero In Next Book plastered all over them. There’s no way this Anthony Cook could ever be the hero of the next book. And I was right. He’s not. He’s the hero of THIS book. I discover this when I idly flip back to the last page, just to assure myself that Libby gets together with the Duke. This is a habit harking back to the time I read Cameron Dean’s vampire trilogy when the hero got staked and turned into cereal dust. And I have proven once again that my habit of flipping to the last page is the right one when I discover that to my shock and horror, our heroine does not in ride off into the sunset and make sweet love with the fabulously wealthy duke but instead, gets together with the country doctor who resembles an outhouse.
I freely admit, this review is a biased one, and is probably lacking in supportive evidence and objective reasoning, simply because well, I didn’t finish the book. But the gist of it I got, and from trawling through some reviews on Amazon by people who DID love the book, was that Herr Doctor Sh*thouse was in love with Libby the entire time, although Libby was blown away (sadly, not literally) by the charms of the Chocolate Duke. And Chocolate Duke was charmed by Libby as well and apparently offered her marriage but upon discovery that Libby had no fortune, revised the offer to hot nookie without the benefit of matrimonial chains. And so Libby, heartbroken and realizing that she needed someone she could depend on, chose Dr Sh*thouse instead, even though the spark of passion was sadly absent. This is understandable, seeing as how her beloved resembles a toilet.
And then Chocolate Duke discovers the error of his ways and heads back determined to win Libby back again, but Libby has decided to choose security and warmth of friendship over passionate love and a ducal coronet. Some may say Libby is a sensible and level-headed girl. I say she’s an idiot.
And so, dear readers, I leave you with three inescapable truths, with a caveat that again, I did not finish reading this book, but rather, skimmed through it like low-fat milk:
1. I am as shallow as an evaporating puddle.
2. Chocolate and sh*t may both be brown, but one is sweet-smelling and tasty and won’t make you sick when you eat it.
3. If you make your bed, then you must be prepared to lie in the sh*t.
Bridget Locke said,
May 12, 2009 @ 12:36 pm
Oh, Ms. Lola…you do have a way with words. *snicker* Books like this are why I’m not a fan of Ms. Heyer. Ms. Austen, yes. Ms. Heyer, no.
cutepolishgirl68 said,
May 12, 2009 @ 7:56 pm
I am not (too much) sorry to say *sheepishly looking down* that I have an entire shelf in my kept pile of regency romances….
Frannie said,
May 12, 2009 @ 9:51 pm
I read my first Georgette Heyer (Venetia) on my 13th birthday (holy crap, that was 47 years ago!), and I still think she’s one of the finest writers of romance ever. No hot sex, true, but it was my first introduction to the alpha male and my newly discovered libido went “OMG-I want some of that!” I’ve only read a couple of Carla Kelly’s, but don’t think there’s any comparison - Heyer is witty, and charming and funny as hell. “Tall, dark and ducal” — also funny as hell.
Dulce said,
May 13, 2009 @ 6:10 am
It is always a rare treat to read interactions between the infamous thin pale lady and one of you gals. :)) OK I shall never read this book; add me to the shallow bandwagon. No way would I choose George Constanza over a hawt duke. The sacrilege!!
Lola said,
May 14, 2009 @ 5:22 pm
I do like Georgette Heyer though. Yeah there’s no nookie, but she has a way with words that’s so darn funny! Maybe it was a wrong choice with this particular book, but I don’t think Carla Kelly’s writing can really compare.
And Dulce, I loved the ref to George Constanza! Hilarious but true.