TEST
Many writers improve over time. Practice makes perfect, and all of that. And Bertrice Small, with as many books under her belt, should have some mastery of the novel. Now, I haven’t read any of her earlier books, but if The Border Vixen is written better than her early novels, I shudder to think what those looked like. This book is a mess.
Maggie Kerr is the only heir to the laird of an important passage between the hills bordering Scotland and England. For centuries it had been used for peaceful purposes, and it’s important for this to continue. However, as Maggie is a woman, she needs a husband to help her. Her grandfather sets up a competition– whoever can outrun, outride, and outfight her can marry her. None of the locals can do this, and one scorned loser goes off to the king of Scotland, hoping he would order Maggie to marry him. Instead, he sends a distant cousin, Fingal Stewart, to marry her. He is the only one who is equal to her athletic skills, and they marry. Luckily they get along, and fall in love. In the meantime, politics, war, scheming and conniving neighbors, and a bout of amnesia get in the way.
As a student of history and a lover of historical romances, I’m aware of the patriarchal society that existed in Europe at this time. However, what matters to me is that even within a male-centric society, the characters respect the dignity of the women in their lives. Oddly, this book is the opposite. They give public praise of Maggie’s abilities and mean for the wedding challenge to be out of respect for her, but in truth the men treat her as an empty uterus that needs to be filled. Despite the sheen of equality over the competition, and arguing that it’s so Maggie can respect her husband, there’s something horrible about only letting her marry someone who is superior to her; anyone that she can best is sent packing. It just sets Fin up to be able to say, “I’m better than her.”
And he does. I hated him. He was domineering, arrogant, condescending, and, oh yeah, a rapist. On their wedding night, he basically tells her he had forced women against their will. And he’s the hero of this farce. He says he loves her, but is in truth so patronizing it’s painful to see her love him back. Of course, there is no chemistry between them and nothing that makes me believe that either of them actually love the other. In that sense, this can barely be called a romance. He also cared nothing for his children. In my experience, good parents (hell, even bad ones) want to see their kids after a long separation. He decides to put it off a few days so he can mount his wife.
The construction of this story is just a shambles. There are so many unnecessary plot twists, undeveloped puppets of characters, gratuitous sex (including a totally random threesome), and poorly constructed sentences. This book is just badly written. Huge blocks of history were included, but choppily. Sex scenes are either embarrassingly purple or crude, and characters have the most bizarre sense of sexuality as I’ve ever seen, and for whatever reason it’s considered a favor and a good deed to a married couple when the town widow has sex with the husband when the wife is expecting. Call me crazy, but I think a man cheating on his pregnant wife is an awful thing to do.
Normally I feel bad about writing reviews like this. But for those of you looking to buy a new book: skip this one. The entertainment derived was similar to watching a car crash. I just couldn’t look away.
Grade: F
Book Type: Renaissance Romance
Sensuality: Burning
Review Date: 18/10/10
Publication Date: 2010/10
Related Reviews
Recent Comments …
Yep
This sounds delightful! I’m grabbing it, thanks
excellent book: interesting, funny dialogs, deep understanding of each character, interesting secondary characters, and also sexy.
I don’t think anyone expects you to post UK prices – it’s just a shame that such a great sale…
I’m sorry about that. We don’t have any way to post British prices as an American based site.
I have several of her books on my TBR and after reading this am moving them up the pile.